Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue.
Author's Note: Hey all, I know, I probably have all of you wondering how Vivi's sons are getting along and don't worry, we will definently be hitting those points by next chapter, I promise!
NeoNaoNeo
Chapter 12: I'm Sorry....
"What a charming dupe you are, 'cute mute little One'…"Mr. 192 talking to Black Waltz No. 1, 'How Fair This Place' By Bmv no Miko (first flavor quote I've have for awhile!, and a cute one I think, aw, 'cute mute little one'!)
The small bell on the weapon shop's door rang merrily as Angel entered. The owner, a tall, gaunt Type C mage by the name of Mr. 14, looked over the counter at the customer, observing him with a quiet, reserved attitude.
"Do you have any hats?" the waltz asked.
"Of course," Mr. 14 said. "What kind?"
"Erm...what do you mean?" Angel asked.
"Well, I've got more than one kind of hat," Mr. 14 replied. "But I think the only thing I have small enough to fit YOU is a leather hat I've had for God knows how long."
"O-okay," Angel nodded.
The chime on the door rang, announcing the entrance of another person.
"Alright, that'll be 100 gil." Mr. 14 said, tossing Angel the hat over the counter.
"W-what's that?" Angel asked, not knowing the meaning of currency. Suddenly, Mr. 176 walked up to the counter, two 50 gil notes in his hand.
"Here you go Mr. 14!" he said chirpily. The mage at the counter took them gratefully and slipped them into small drawer.
"Thank you," Mr. 14 responded. Mr. 176 turned to Angel, a bright smile apparent in his eyes. The Type A mage noticed a small, lonely weapon in the corner, toddling towards it to investigate further.
"When'd you make this Mr. 14?" 176 asked, looking the clumsily made sickle over curiously. The handle was beautifully made from a sturdy, hard wood, varnished to a chocolate brown sheen. The blade, however, was bent at a sharp, ugly angle instead of the agile curve its type was supposed to possess, the silvery metal still shone with pride and dangerous elegance.
"A few nights ago, just as an experiment, but as you can tell by the blade, I don't think I was meant to forge scythes," Mr. 14 chuckled. "But it can still be used, the brunt and blade were put together very firmly so you won't have a problem using it in a battle."
"I like it," Mr. 176 praised, looking the sleek weapon over again. He noticed Angel eying it longingly, running his small, clawed hands over the handle. "How much is it?"
"Well, if you really want it, 25 gil sounds fair enough to me." Mr. 14 replied.
"Okay," Mr. 176 agreed, paying the small price with what little money he had. "Go ahead and take it Angel, you wanted it, right?"
"Really? I can just have it?" the waltz confirmed. Mr. 176 nodded.
"Yeah, that way you can protect yourself from monsters when you have to go home," Mr. 176 replied. "And besides, it's just the right size for a little fella like you."
Angel didn't mind the pet name 'little fella', Lenore often reffered to him as 'little one' or the like. He picked up the scythe by the mahogoney handle, holding it firmly in his hands as he continued to look over his gift. Angel bit his lip as Mr. 176 nudged him.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" Mr. 176 asked.
"No, it's not that." Angel replied. "I wanna go home..."
"Oh, okay. Are your wings feeling better?" Mr. 176 responded.
Angel replied with a nod.
"Are you sure you can fly?" Mr. 176 prodded. The waltz tensed his newly repaired muscles, nodding with an air of uncertainty. "W-well, o-okay....if you're sure..."
Why does he look so sad? Angel wondered to himself as Mr. 176 began walking out of the shop. The waltz ruffled his feathers out slightly, adjusting his new hat. Maybe I should say good bye and tell him thank you and everything...that would make sense, then maybe he wouldn't be so sad!
"Wait, Mr. 176!" Angel called, jogging after. The stout Type A mage turned around, tilting his head to one side. "I-I just wanted to say thank you for everything."
"Oh, don't worry about it, I couldn't just leave you laying in the middle of the forest," Mr. 176 said, shaking his head.
"I know, but...well...I thought the world outside the Desert Palace---"
"D-D-D-D...Desert Palace!?" Mr. 176 yelped, his voice much louder and higher than he had intended. "Y-You come from the Desert Palace!?"
Even at the mere mention of this hellish place, many mages clamored loudly and scattered to their assigned huts. The waltz nodded slowly, as though he had done something wrong. A few of the black mages that were still out walked down from their posts, a challenging look in their eyes.
"Well, whatever Kuja wants, tell him we won't have anything to do with it!" a Type B mage said to the waltz, voice dripping with malice.
"Yeah, we're not going to be fooled again!" another mage beside him added with the same spitefulness.
Angel was taken back by these sudden, contemptuous statments, his wings forcing themselves onto his back in slight fear.
"I-I---" Angel stammered, shrinking back. Wait, why am I afraid of them? All it would take is one spell, that's it. Angel narrowed his eyes slightly. Why not? They don't seem to care about me. Mr. 99 joined the group, hoping to break them up, when a spell began accumulating in Angel's palms, the power easily tapped into. Mr. 99 caught sight of this spell and went to make a reach for his own magic when Mr. 176 stepped in between the small group of mages and Angel, stopping both conjurations.
"You leave him alone! He wasn't sent here by Kuja!" Mr. 176 barked, the large Type A mage's presence was made more intimidating and commanding by his size and growling tone of voice. He broke off a moment and ordered the other mages away with a small comment, "S-so just go home!"
"176..." Mr. 99 murmured as their counterparts walked away, grumbling and fuming. Mr. 176's counterpart walked up. "He was going to kill us!" He shouted at his partner.
Angel gulped.
"No he wasn't! They scared the poor little thing out of his wits," Mr. 176 defended, looking to Angel, who he now noticed was shivering slightly.
"Why don't you ask him?" Mr. 99 replied, putting his hands on his hips in a matter-of-factly way. "Well, were you?"
Angel grumbled a small curse.
"Speak up," Mr. 99 ordered, cocking his head to one side.
"...yes..." Angel said, a little louder.
"Ha! I told y---"
"But I didn't!" Angel snapped, interupting Mr. 99's sentence. "I didn't! Doesn't that count for anything?"
"No! You probably would have done it if Mr. 176 hadn't gotten in the way," Mr. 99 spat.
Angel narrowed his eyes.
"That's enough 99," Mr. 288 said, walking up to the two, staff at hand.
"He was going to kill us, he even admitted it," Mr. 99 reported, showing his obvious abhorrence for the small waltz.
"Well, he didn't, correct?" Mr. 288 asked. Silence ensued. "Besides, I think I can safetly say that you aren't entirely innocent of those thoughts either."
Mr. 99 was horrified Mr. 288 had stooped down to that level, bringing up such a touchy subject to prove a point.
"I'm sorry," Angel muttered, slightly ashamed that he had drawn so much attention to himself. The waltz wried his hands nervously over the brunt of his new weapon, just wanting to go home. He remebered Lenore, thinking of how furious she would be when she found out about his escape. Maybe if I fly home really fast, she'll never know...
"You ungrateful little creature!" a voice bellowed from above, the heavy, bass beating of large feathered wings filling the air. Lenore, on top of a Silver Dragon, came down, arms crossed indignantly and eyes narrowed in anger and spite. The black mages turned to one another, Mr. 176 grabbing Angel by the sleeve.
"Come on! We have to get out of here!" the black mage pleaded, giving Angel's sleeve a tug. The waltz pulled away, wings to his back in pure terror. Mr. 176 bit his lip and quickly followed Mr. 99 to their hut to hide.
"You disobedient, coniving whelp!" Lenore snarled and dismounted her dragon. She slapped Angel across the face, sending the waltz to the ground with a small cry. "You would already have been dead if you weren't so hard to replace. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I apologize for leaving," Angel murmured. "But I'm not sorry."
"Hm?" Lenore grunted, advancing on the waltz.
"I-I'm glad I left...I had fun, I---" his voice turned to a gag as Lenore lifted him off the ground by the shirt collar, handling him roughly.
"Come on, we're going home," she snarled, getting back on the dragon.
Author's Note: Hey all, I know, I probably have all of you wondering how Vivi's sons are getting along and don't worry, we will definently be hitting those points by next chapter, I promise!
NeoNaoNeo
Chapter 12: I'm Sorry....
"What a charming dupe you are, 'cute mute little One'…"Mr. 192 talking to Black Waltz No. 1, 'How Fair This Place' By Bmv no Miko (first flavor quote I've have for awhile!, and a cute one I think, aw, 'cute mute little one'!)
The small bell on the weapon shop's door rang merrily as Angel entered. The owner, a tall, gaunt Type C mage by the name of Mr. 14, looked over the counter at the customer, observing him with a quiet, reserved attitude.
"Do you have any hats?" the waltz asked.
"Of course," Mr. 14 said. "What kind?"
"Erm...what do you mean?" Angel asked.
"Well, I've got more than one kind of hat," Mr. 14 replied. "But I think the only thing I have small enough to fit YOU is a leather hat I've had for God knows how long."
"O-okay," Angel nodded.
The chime on the door rang, announcing the entrance of another person.
"Alright, that'll be 100 gil." Mr. 14 said, tossing Angel the hat over the counter.
"W-what's that?" Angel asked, not knowing the meaning of currency. Suddenly, Mr. 176 walked up to the counter, two 50 gil notes in his hand.
"Here you go Mr. 14!" he said chirpily. The mage at the counter took them gratefully and slipped them into small drawer.
"Thank you," Mr. 14 responded. Mr. 176 turned to Angel, a bright smile apparent in his eyes. The Type A mage noticed a small, lonely weapon in the corner, toddling towards it to investigate further.
"When'd you make this Mr. 14?" 176 asked, looking the clumsily made sickle over curiously. The handle was beautifully made from a sturdy, hard wood, varnished to a chocolate brown sheen. The blade, however, was bent at a sharp, ugly angle instead of the agile curve its type was supposed to possess, the silvery metal still shone with pride and dangerous elegance.
"A few nights ago, just as an experiment, but as you can tell by the blade, I don't think I was meant to forge scythes," Mr. 14 chuckled. "But it can still be used, the brunt and blade were put together very firmly so you won't have a problem using it in a battle."
"I like it," Mr. 176 praised, looking the sleek weapon over again. He noticed Angel eying it longingly, running his small, clawed hands over the handle. "How much is it?"
"Well, if you really want it, 25 gil sounds fair enough to me." Mr. 14 replied.
"Okay," Mr. 176 agreed, paying the small price with what little money he had. "Go ahead and take it Angel, you wanted it, right?"
"Really? I can just have it?" the waltz confirmed. Mr. 176 nodded.
"Yeah, that way you can protect yourself from monsters when you have to go home," Mr. 176 replied. "And besides, it's just the right size for a little fella like you."
Angel didn't mind the pet name 'little fella', Lenore often reffered to him as 'little one' or the like. He picked up the scythe by the mahogoney handle, holding it firmly in his hands as he continued to look over his gift. Angel bit his lip as Mr. 176 nudged him.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" Mr. 176 asked.
"No, it's not that." Angel replied. "I wanna go home..."
"Oh, okay. Are your wings feeling better?" Mr. 176 responded.
Angel replied with a nod.
"Are you sure you can fly?" Mr. 176 prodded. The waltz tensed his newly repaired muscles, nodding with an air of uncertainty. "W-well, o-okay....if you're sure..."
Why does he look so sad? Angel wondered to himself as Mr. 176 began walking out of the shop. The waltz ruffled his feathers out slightly, adjusting his new hat. Maybe I should say good bye and tell him thank you and everything...that would make sense, then maybe he wouldn't be so sad!
"Wait, Mr. 176!" Angel called, jogging after. The stout Type A mage turned around, tilting his head to one side. "I-I just wanted to say thank you for everything."
"Oh, don't worry about it, I couldn't just leave you laying in the middle of the forest," Mr. 176 said, shaking his head.
"I know, but...well...I thought the world outside the Desert Palace---"
"D-D-D-D...Desert Palace!?" Mr. 176 yelped, his voice much louder and higher than he had intended. "Y-You come from the Desert Palace!?"
Even at the mere mention of this hellish place, many mages clamored loudly and scattered to their assigned huts. The waltz nodded slowly, as though he had done something wrong. A few of the black mages that were still out walked down from their posts, a challenging look in their eyes.
"Well, whatever Kuja wants, tell him we won't have anything to do with it!" a Type B mage said to the waltz, voice dripping with malice.
"Yeah, we're not going to be fooled again!" another mage beside him added with the same spitefulness.
Angel was taken back by these sudden, contemptuous statments, his wings forcing themselves onto his back in slight fear.
"I-I---" Angel stammered, shrinking back. Wait, why am I afraid of them? All it would take is one spell, that's it. Angel narrowed his eyes slightly. Why not? They don't seem to care about me. Mr. 99 joined the group, hoping to break them up, when a spell began accumulating in Angel's palms, the power easily tapped into. Mr. 99 caught sight of this spell and went to make a reach for his own magic when Mr. 176 stepped in between the small group of mages and Angel, stopping both conjurations.
"You leave him alone! He wasn't sent here by Kuja!" Mr. 176 barked, the large Type A mage's presence was made more intimidating and commanding by his size and growling tone of voice. He broke off a moment and ordered the other mages away with a small comment, "S-so just go home!"
"176..." Mr. 99 murmured as their counterparts walked away, grumbling and fuming. Mr. 176's counterpart walked up. "He was going to kill us!" He shouted at his partner.
Angel gulped.
"No he wasn't! They scared the poor little thing out of his wits," Mr. 176 defended, looking to Angel, who he now noticed was shivering slightly.
"Why don't you ask him?" Mr. 99 replied, putting his hands on his hips in a matter-of-factly way. "Well, were you?"
Angel grumbled a small curse.
"Speak up," Mr. 99 ordered, cocking his head to one side.
"...yes..." Angel said, a little louder.
"Ha! I told y---"
"But I didn't!" Angel snapped, interupting Mr. 99's sentence. "I didn't! Doesn't that count for anything?"
"No! You probably would have done it if Mr. 176 hadn't gotten in the way," Mr. 99 spat.
Angel narrowed his eyes.
"That's enough 99," Mr. 288 said, walking up to the two, staff at hand.
"He was going to kill us, he even admitted it," Mr. 99 reported, showing his obvious abhorrence for the small waltz.
"Well, he didn't, correct?" Mr. 288 asked. Silence ensued. "Besides, I think I can safetly say that you aren't entirely innocent of those thoughts either."
Mr. 99 was horrified Mr. 288 had stooped down to that level, bringing up such a touchy subject to prove a point.
"I'm sorry," Angel muttered, slightly ashamed that he had drawn so much attention to himself. The waltz wried his hands nervously over the brunt of his new weapon, just wanting to go home. He remebered Lenore, thinking of how furious she would be when she found out about his escape. Maybe if I fly home really fast, she'll never know...
"You ungrateful little creature!" a voice bellowed from above, the heavy, bass beating of large feathered wings filling the air. Lenore, on top of a Silver Dragon, came down, arms crossed indignantly and eyes narrowed in anger and spite. The black mages turned to one another, Mr. 176 grabbing Angel by the sleeve.
"Come on! We have to get out of here!" the black mage pleaded, giving Angel's sleeve a tug. The waltz pulled away, wings to his back in pure terror. Mr. 176 bit his lip and quickly followed Mr. 99 to their hut to hide.
"You disobedient, coniving whelp!" Lenore snarled and dismounted her dragon. She slapped Angel across the face, sending the waltz to the ground with a small cry. "You would already have been dead if you weren't so hard to replace. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I apologize for leaving," Angel murmured. "But I'm not sorry."
"Hm?" Lenore grunted, advancing on the waltz.
"I-I'm glad I left...I had fun, I---" his voice turned to a gag as Lenore lifted him off the ground by the shirt collar, handling him roughly.
"Come on, we're going home," she snarled, getting back on the dragon.