Chapter 4 – My Name is Generic Young Man #2, and I Have a Problem...
Author's Notes: Wow...I honestly never saw myself going back to this again after how Chapter 3 turned out, and now...it's totally snowballed out of my control. Got Chapter 4 here, almost done Chapter 5, and even a plot mapped out for the rest! I have a plot figured out in advance?! Something's wrong. Mus' be the Kupo Nuts.
Anyway, I would like to express my fervent and endless thanks to those of you out there who have seen fit to read and review this so far. And now, enough with the notes, and…………………………………(you can smell it coming!)……………………...
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the chapter!!!!
It was, the young man behind the desk reflected sadly, sipping at the cool, bitter liquid in his large coffee mug, far, far, far too late for any sane person to still be awake. A rather odd thing, as the sun had set not three hours ago. Sane people seemed to be going to bed much earlier as of late. Could there possibly be a reason for it? Was some sinister force stirring, slowly turning the inhabitants of Gaia into inside-out vampires? Would the insane fraction of the population soon be the only ones left in control of their minds? The young innkeeper shook his head, shifting in his hard wooden chair in attempt to rid his posterior of the pins and needles that had overtaken it. Or perhaps the entire thing was entirely in his head, a delusion brought about by too much cold coffee, coupled with the boundless monotony of this job? Probably the last one, he decided. By the gods, how had he come to be here? How the hell? He had always been brilliant in his studies as a young lad; he had been ambitious, hard-working, likeable – what had gone wrong? How on earth had his lofty dreams of becoming the world's greatest engineer been shoved aside in favour of sitting all night behind the desk of the world's least-visited inn? Sighing morosely, he let the wave of memories engulf him, take him back to that last year of his schooling, two years ago, when he had discovered the one object that had seemed at the time to make his life complete...the object that, later on, would prove to be his greatest curse: the Kupo Nut.
He had known from the first moment that he had caught a whiff of that bewitching aroma, that his destiny must ever after be closely entwined with those of the Moogles. After all, where there were Moogles, there were Kupo Nuts. It was this reasoning, descending upon him in the proverbial burst of light one might, one endless night when he lay awake, tossing and turning and longing with all of his being for Kupo Nuts, that had led him to what had been considered by his friends and family a most shameful act. He had purchased a Moogle Suit from a Lindblum theatre company, had abandoned his studies, and had lived for the next ten months with a group of Moogles. The furry little fools had never known the difference; likely didn't to this very day. He had collected every Kupo Nut he could find, hoarding them all against the blessed day when he finally had enough to last him his life, and he could take his leave of the loathsome little creatures, who lived, he firmly believed, only to divest him of his Kupo Nuts.
One day, while in a tavern with one of the few cronies that he had not alienated with his odd obsession, this friend of his had posed for him the question of why he didn't simply buy the Kupo Nuts that his soul craved in a store. Not long after, this acquaintance had gone mysteriously missing, never to be found. Evidently, no one had ever warned him of the danger in questioning a maniac.
After a time, the mother of the young engineer-turned-moogle, a loving and sensitive soul, hurt to the quick by her son's abandonment of his family, not entirely understanding what he saw in the food of the Moogles, but unwilling to give up on him, had hunted him down. Although he was kept busy with his letter delivery duties (all the more busy, being that he lacked the amazing speed of the Moogles), he had, of late, felt pangs of longing for his old life; for his friends, his family, his home, and as such, he had been delighted to see her.
Although somewhat nonplussed at first by his fierce accusations that she had come for the Kupo Nuts, the young man's mother quickly put her fear aside and stated the real reason for her visit.
"My son," she had whispered brokenly, taking his hand, "your father and I are worried about you. If you are willing, we want you to come home, get the help you need, and eventually, rejoin society."
She had felt it quite unnecessary to mention that her husband's concern was less for his son and more for the money that his son had stolen to purchase the expensive, carefully made Moogle Suit.
The young man, seeing the anguish in his mother's eyes, could no longer stand it. He had left a note stating simply that he would no longer be a part of the letter delivery system, and had left with his mother the very next morning.
Upon arriving home, he had been coldly informed by his father that he would be expected to take a job to pay back every single gil that he had stolen to buy the Moogle Suit. The following months had seen him find this job in this very isolated inn, and seek help to overcome his Kupo Nut addiction.
Yes, nine months later, this young man was continuing to advance, slowly, but steadily, down the path to healing. Certainly, there were still nights when the longing for the tasty treat of the Moogles seemed unbearable, when he felt that he would have surely sold his soul for merely a whiff of one; there always would be. But he no felt the urge to maul every Moogle he came across, pick them up by the small red pom-poms atop their heads and shake them until they handed over the blessed Kupo Nuts.
He shook his head; he certainly had been very fortunate. Not all addicts to the Kupo Nut escaped so unscathed as he had. All in all, he was a very lucky young man. He still had his health, his mental faculties, he had found a reasonably well-paying, if mind-numbingly boring job, and he was earning back the love and trust of his family and friends. Still, at times like this, two hours into the most hellish shift possible, late at night, when the meagre possibility of a traveler dropping in shrunk to a total impossibility, it was very difficult to count one's blessings. Slowly, his eyes slid shut and he fell forward, his forehead connecting with the smooth mahogany of the desk with a hollow 'thud.'
"Hey," Zidane greeted the young man behind the desk cheerfully. He frowned at the distinct lack of response from the prone form slumped over the large chunk of wood. He tried again, more insistently. "Hey!"
"Zidane!" Dagger admonished severely. "The man is asleep! Shouting at him and waking up the rest of the guests here is a horribly rude thing to do!"
"Yeah," Zidane agreed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I guess you're right."
With that, he leaned down and snatched the Mace of Zeus from a rather bewildered Vivi, flipped it over, and poked the young man several times. Awake on the first poke, it took the poor innkeeper some time to struggle to a sitting position, given the staff poking him repeatedly in the head and all. He flailed desperately, unsure of what exactly was going on. By the gods, had he been right about the evil threat? Had he been kidnapped by the fiend? Was he now to be turned into an inside-put vampire, just like so many other poor souls?
"Oh, good," Zidane commented as the man behind the desk began to respond to the repeated pokes, "you're awake. We need four rooms for tonight."
Yawning, the young man pointed to a set of narrow, bare painted wooden steps behind him.
"Right up there, folks," he informed them, the shock of actually having a customer not yet penetrating the fatigued fog surrounding his brain, before slumping forward over the desk once more. Seconds later, a soft snore echoed through the cozy, though somewhat shabbily decorated room. Zidane sighed, snatching Vivi's staff up again and rapping the young man gently on the head with it. Said young man bolted upright, glaring at the thief.
"Do you mind? I told you, the rooms are upstair!"
"Actually, I do kinda mind. You never gave us keys to get into the rooms."
"Oh...right." Grinning sheepishly, the young man slid three keys across the desk toward Zidane. "Two beds per room, one-hundred gil per room per night. Enjoy your stay."
Waving his thanks, Zidane turned and approached the rest of the group. He held the first large brass key, a number 4 etched into it, out to Steiner.
"Okay, Rusty, you and Vivi can share Room 4." He smiled sympathetically at the small mage. "Sorry 'bout that, Vivi. But don't worry; if he starts to snore too loud, you know what to do, right?"
Vivi tilted his head to the side, gazing up at Zidane in confusion.
"You hit him with a pillow until he stops," the young thief clarified. Vivi shook his head.
"B-b-but Steiner doesn't snore. It's you who snores, Zidane."
"That's a dirty, rotten lie, and you know it!"
"Actually, Zidane, Vivi is quite right. You do snore," Dagger interjected. "Just ask anyone."
"You certainly do," Freya agreed.
"Like a cement mixer...whatever the hell that is," Amarant added.
"They speak the truth," Steiner conceded, nodding. Zidane pouted.
"I don't snore! You're just all against me."
"Of course, Zidane," Dagger giggled. "None of us have anything better to do that meet daily and plot against you."
"I knew it!" the young man shouted triumphantly. "It was all just a matter of getting you to admit it!"
"Enough of this ridiculous banter!" Steiner chastised the young couple severely. "It is late, and we would all like to go to sleep. Hand out the rest of the keys, Zidane, and let us see about sleeping some time tonight."
"Oh, fine. You have no sense of fun. You know that, don't you?" Zidane took another key from his pocket and handed it to Amarant. "Alright. I guess, by necessity, you two are sleeping togeth – uh, sharing a room. Just...uh...try not to kill each other before morning, alright?"
"Oh, don't worry, Zidane. If I feel the indescribable urge to kill something, you'll do nicely," Freya informed him. Amarant crossed his arm, looking no less silly than the last time he had done so.
"You'll have to race me to it," he growled, not put in any better a humour by the knowledge that he was, indeed, an immensely silly sight to behold.
"Hey, come on guys!" Zidane protested. "Once again, this is NOT all my fault!"
"Right. It's only about three quarters your fault," Freya agreed.
"Exactly! And you can't hold it against me forever!"
"Not forever. Only until these damn cuffs come off," Amarant replied with a snort.
"Alright, look, you guys. It's obvious that this isn't an ideal situation for either of you. It isn't really my idea of a great situation, either. But come on! Try to make the best of it! See this as the opportunity to strengthen your friendship. Get to know each other!"
"I'd sooner gouge out my own eye with a spoon," Amarant shot back. Freya gave a soft chuckle.
"Well, thank-you!"
Amarant scowled at her.
"I could gouge out your eye, if you'd prefer," he offered coldly.
"Quite alright, but thank-you just the same."
Zidane grinned.
"Good job, Freya! That's the spirit!" Then he turned to Dagger with a mischievous. "So, Mrs. Tribal, I guess it's just you and me."
"Um...alright, I suppose..." Dagger conceded hesitantly. She turned and began to climb, her feet echoing hollowly on the narrow wooden stairs, their middle covered by a grey threadbare carpet with blue tulips spattered liberally over it. Zidane sauntered after her, grinning hugely.
"After you, Master Vivi," Steiner offered, stepping aside with a sweeping motion of his arm. Vivi ambled up the stairs, and Steiner followed, clanking merrily all the way. At the top of the stairs, he bid the rest of the group goodnight, and clanked into Room 4, wincing slightly as Vivi's foot caught on the little bit of raised wood on the floor of the doorway, sending him plummeting to the ground with a 'thump.'
Zidane, still grinning a most cheesy grin at Dagger, slid his key into the lock on Room 5 and opened the door, stepping back to let her through first, and taking the advantage to enjoy a nice, long look at her shapely posterior. Luckily for him, Dagger was, by now, too tired to notice. Had she been more widely awake, Bahamut may have found himself summoned from Cool Hat Land, where he resided along with all the other Eidolons (see 'Of Godly Bunnies and Godly Hats' by Bezo and Yezo – pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase read it! We know it's at least mildly amusing! And Amarant has a very large role, if there's anyone out there – anyone at all – who might like that sort of thing), to kick Zidane's own shapely posterior into a few years down the road.
With a resigned air, Amarant withdrew a key from his own pocket and unlocked the door of Room 3. Freya, with an equally resigned air, opened the door and followed him in. She had realized, somewhere around the middle of the wagon ride, that there was really no conceivable way to operate independently when chained to another person at the wrist, and to even try would be a futile endeavour.
And so, as the three door slammed shut simultaneously, thus began a night of horror, madness, violence, and many, many contrived little plot devices. Read on!
Ending Notes: Hmm...I'm doing a lot of these lately, but this has just been kind of a filler chapter until I could get on into all those contrivances and plot devices...and maybe even a few interesting events. Chapter 5, which shall contain all of these things (and a monkey – monkeys are cool. There should be more stories about monkeys). But, yeah. It all started when I was wondering if any people from the FF9 universe ate Kupo Nuts. Then I started to wonder why they wouldn't. Then I figured that perhaps, to people, they're horribly addictive. And from there, the whole thing was a runaway train hurtling down the track into utter ridiculousness.
I like trains. *Grin*
Author's Notes: Wow...I honestly never saw myself going back to this again after how Chapter 3 turned out, and now...it's totally snowballed out of my control. Got Chapter 4 here, almost done Chapter 5, and even a plot mapped out for the rest! I have a plot figured out in advance?! Something's wrong. Mus' be the Kupo Nuts.
Anyway, I would like to express my fervent and endless thanks to those of you out there who have seen fit to read and review this so far. And now, enough with the notes, and…………………………………(you can smell it coming!)……………………...
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the chapter!!!!
It was, the young man behind the desk reflected sadly, sipping at the cool, bitter liquid in his large coffee mug, far, far, far too late for any sane person to still be awake. A rather odd thing, as the sun had set not three hours ago. Sane people seemed to be going to bed much earlier as of late. Could there possibly be a reason for it? Was some sinister force stirring, slowly turning the inhabitants of Gaia into inside-out vampires? Would the insane fraction of the population soon be the only ones left in control of their minds? The young innkeeper shook his head, shifting in his hard wooden chair in attempt to rid his posterior of the pins and needles that had overtaken it. Or perhaps the entire thing was entirely in his head, a delusion brought about by too much cold coffee, coupled with the boundless monotony of this job? Probably the last one, he decided. By the gods, how had he come to be here? How the hell? He had always been brilliant in his studies as a young lad; he had been ambitious, hard-working, likeable – what had gone wrong? How on earth had his lofty dreams of becoming the world's greatest engineer been shoved aside in favour of sitting all night behind the desk of the world's least-visited inn? Sighing morosely, he let the wave of memories engulf him, take him back to that last year of his schooling, two years ago, when he had discovered the one object that had seemed at the time to make his life complete...the object that, later on, would prove to be his greatest curse: the Kupo Nut.
He had known from the first moment that he had caught a whiff of that bewitching aroma, that his destiny must ever after be closely entwined with those of the Moogles. After all, where there were Moogles, there were Kupo Nuts. It was this reasoning, descending upon him in the proverbial burst of light one might, one endless night when he lay awake, tossing and turning and longing with all of his being for Kupo Nuts, that had led him to what had been considered by his friends and family a most shameful act. He had purchased a Moogle Suit from a Lindblum theatre company, had abandoned his studies, and had lived for the next ten months with a group of Moogles. The furry little fools had never known the difference; likely didn't to this very day. He had collected every Kupo Nut he could find, hoarding them all against the blessed day when he finally had enough to last him his life, and he could take his leave of the loathsome little creatures, who lived, he firmly believed, only to divest him of his Kupo Nuts.
One day, while in a tavern with one of the few cronies that he had not alienated with his odd obsession, this friend of his had posed for him the question of why he didn't simply buy the Kupo Nuts that his soul craved in a store. Not long after, this acquaintance had gone mysteriously missing, never to be found. Evidently, no one had ever warned him of the danger in questioning a maniac.
After a time, the mother of the young engineer-turned-moogle, a loving and sensitive soul, hurt to the quick by her son's abandonment of his family, not entirely understanding what he saw in the food of the Moogles, but unwilling to give up on him, had hunted him down. Although he was kept busy with his letter delivery duties (all the more busy, being that he lacked the amazing speed of the Moogles), he had, of late, felt pangs of longing for his old life; for his friends, his family, his home, and as such, he had been delighted to see her.
Although somewhat nonplussed at first by his fierce accusations that she had come for the Kupo Nuts, the young man's mother quickly put her fear aside and stated the real reason for her visit.
"My son," she had whispered brokenly, taking his hand, "your father and I are worried about you. If you are willing, we want you to come home, get the help you need, and eventually, rejoin society."
She had felt it quite unnecessary to mention that her husband's concern was less for his son and more for the money that his son had stolen to purchase the expensive, carefully made Moogle Suit.
The young man, seeing the anguish in his mother's eyes, could no longer stand it. He had left a note stating simply that he would no longer be a part of the letter delivery system, and had left with his mother the very next morning.
Upon arriving home, he had been coldly informed by his father that he would be expected to take a job to pay back every single gil that he had stolen to buy the Moogle Suit. The following months had seen him find this job in this very isolated inn, and seek help to overcome his Kupo Nut addiction.
Yes, nine months later, this young man was continuing to advance, slowly, but steadily, down the path to healing. Certainly, there were still nights when the longing for the tasty treat of the Moogles seemed unbearable, when he felt that he would have surely sold his soul for merely a whiff of one; there always would be. But he no felt the urge to maul every Moogle he came across, pick them up by the small red pom-poms atop their heads and shake them until they handed over the blessed Kupo Nuts.
He shook his head; he certainly had been very fortunate. Not all addicts to the Kupo Nut escaped so unscathed as he had. All in all, he was a very lucky young man. He still had his health, his mental faculties, he had found a reasonably well-paying, if mind-numbingly boring job, and he was earning back the love and trust of his family and friends. Still, at times like this, two hours into the most hellish shift possible, late at night, when the meagre possibility of a traveler dropping in shrunk to a total impossibility, it was very difficult to count one's blessings. Slowly, his eyes slid shut and he fell forward, his forehead connecting with the smooth mahogany of the desk with a hollow 'thud.'
"Hey," Zidane greeted the young man behind the desk cheerfully. He frowned at the distinct lack of response from the prone form slumped over the large chunk of wood. He tried again, more insistently. "Hey!"
"Zidane!" Dagger admonished severely. "The man is asleep! Shouting at him and waking up the rest of the guests here is a horribly rude thing to do!"
"Yeah," Zidane agreed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I guess you're right."
With that, he leaned down and snatched the Mace of Zeus from a rather bewildered Vivi, flipped it over, and poked the young man several times. Awake on the first poke, it took the poor innkeeper some time to struggle to a sitting position, given the staff poking him repeatedly in the head and all. He flailed desperately, unsure of what exactly was going on. By the gods, had he been right about the evil threat? Had he been kidnapped by the fiend? Was he now to be turned into an inside-put vampire, just like so many other poor souls?
"Oh, good," Zidane commented as the man behind the desk began to respond to the repeated pokes, "you're awake. We need four rooms for tonight."
Yawning, the young man pointed to a set of narrow, bare painted wooden steps behind him.
"Right up there, folks," he informed them, the shock of actually having a customer not yet penetrating the fatigued fog surrounding his brain, before slumping forward over the desk once more. Seconds later, a soft snore echoed through the cozy, though somewhat shabbily decorated room. Zidane sighed, snatching Vivi's staff up again and rapping the young man gently on the head with it. Said young man bolted upright, glaring at the thief.
"Do you mind? I told you, the rooms are upstair!"
"Actually, I do kinda mind. You never gave us keys to get into the rooms."
"Oh...right." Grinning sheepishly, the young man slid three keys across the desk toward Zidane. "Two beds per room, one-hundred gil per room per night. Enjoy your stay."
Waving his thanks, Zidane turned and approached the rest of the group. He held the first large brass key, a number 4 etched into it, out to Steiner.
"Okay, Rusty, you and Vivi can share Room 4." He smiled sympathetically at the small mage. "Sorry 'bout that, Vivi. But don't worry; if he starts to snore too loud, you know what to do, right?"
Vivi tilted his head to the side, gazing up at Zidane in confusion.
"You hit him with a pillow until he stops," the young thief clarified. Vivi shook his head.
"B-b-but Steiner doesn't snore. It's you who snores, Zidane."
"That's a dirty, rotten lie, and you know it!"
"Actually, Zidane, Vivi is quite right. You do snore," Dagger interjected. "Just ask anyone."
"You certainly do," Freya agreed.
"Like a cement mixer...whatever the hell that is," Amarant added.
"They speak the truth," Steiner conceded, nodding. Zidane pouted.
"I don't snore! You're just all against me."
"Of course, Zidane," Dagger giggled. "None of us have anything better to do that meet daily and plot against you."
"I knew it!" the young man shouted triumphantly. "It was all just a matter of getting you to admit it!"
"Enough of this ridiculous banter!" Steiner chastised the young couple severely. "It is late, and we would all like to go to sleep. Hand out the rest of the keys, Zidane, and let us see about sleeping some time tonight."
"Oh, fine. You have no sense of fun. You know that, don't you?" Zidane took another key from his pocket and handed it to Amarant. "Alright. I guess, by necessity, you two are sleeping togeth – uh, sharing a room. Just...uh...try not to kill each other before morning, alright?"
"Oh, don't worry, Zidane. If I feel the indescribable urge to kill something, you'll do nicely," Freya informed him. Amarant crossed his arm, looking no less silly than the last time he had done so.
"You'll have to race me to it," he growled, not put in any better a humour by the knowledge that he was, indeed, an immensely silly sight to behold.
"Hey, come on guys!" Zidane protested. "Once again, this is NOT all my fault!"
"Right. It's only about three quarters your fault," Freya agreed.
"Exactly! And you can't hold it against me forever!"
"Not forever. Only until these damn cuffs come off," Amarant replied with a snort.
"Alright, look, you guys. It's obvious that this isn't an ideal situation for either of you. It isn't really my idea of a great situation, either. But come on! Try to make the best of it! See this as the opportunity to strengthen your friendship. Get to know each other!"
"I'd sooner gouge out my own eye with a spoon," Amarant shot back. Freya gave a soft chuckle.
"Well, thank-you!"
Amarant scowled at her.
"I could gouge out your eye, if you'd prefer," he offered coldly.
"Quite alright, but thank-you just the same."
Zidane grinned.
"Good job, Freya! That's the spirit!" Then he turned to Dagger with a mischievous. "So, Mrs. Tribal, I guess it's just you and me."
"Um...alright, I suppose..." Dagger conceded hesitantly. She turned and began to climb, her feet echoing hollowly on the narrow wooden stairs, their middle covered by a grey threadbare carpet with blue tulips spattered liberally over it. Zidane sauntered after her, grinning hugely.
"After you, Master Vivi," Steiner offered, stepping aside with a sweeping motion of his arm. Vivi ambled up the stairs, and Steiner followed, clanking merrily all the way. At the top of the stairs, he bid the rest of the group goodnight, and clanked into Room 4, wincing slightly as Vivi's foot caught on the little bit of raised wood on the floor of the doorway, sending him plummeting to the ground with a 'thump.'
Zidane, still grinning a most cheesy grin at Dagger, slid his key into the lock on Room 5 and opened the door, stepping back to let her through first, and taking the advantage to enjoy a nice, long look at her shapely posterior. Luckily for him, Dagger was, by now, too tired to notice. Had she been more widely awake, Bahamut may have found himself summoned from Cool Hat Land, where he resided along with all the other Eidolons (see 'Of Godly Bunnies and Godly Hats' by Bezo and Yezo – pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase read it! We know it's at least mildly amusing! And Amarant has a very large role, if there's anyone out there – anyone at all – who might like that sort of thing), to kick Zidane's own shapely posterior into a few years down the road.
With a resigned air, Amarant withdrew a key from his own pocket and unlocked the door of Room 3. Freya, with an equally resigned air, opened the door and followed him in. She had realized, somewhere around the middle of the wagon ride, that there was really no conceivable way to operate independently when chained to another person at the wrist, and to even try would be a futile endeavour.
And so, as the three door slammed shut simultaneously, thus began a night of horror, madness, violence, and many, many contrived little plot devices. Read on!
Ending Notes: Hmm...I'm doing a lot of these lately, but this has just been kind of a filler chapter until I could get on into all those contrivances and plot devices...and maybe even a few interesting events. Chapter 5, which shall contain all of these things (and a monkey – monkeys are cool. There should be more stories about monkeys). But, yeah. It all started when I was wondering if any people from the FF9 universe ate Kupo Nuts. Then I started to wonder why they wouldn't. Then I figured that perhaps, to people, they're horribly addictive. And from there, the whole thing was a runaway train hurtling down the track into utter ridiculousness.
I like trains. *Grin*