Author Rudely Sticking Her Big Nose Into the Story To Say Something Dumb (aka A/N): So here's a trial run on the story. Just to see if I can actually pull this off. And because I know absolutely nothing about FFX-2, it's just not going to happen. Oh well. Not big loss, right? Kidding. Sorry. But yes. Just leave a review regarding if you want more, and how I can make this better. You're all wonderful.
I'm a nasty dirty greasy Rikku right now. And if any one of you overly hormonal perverts reads anything into that, I shall kick you. Really.
…
Kidding. I'm kidding. Honestly. Lighten up already. You sound like Mister Dying Under This Big Red Coat Which I Won't Take Off Because Then Everyone Will See That I Wear Pajamas Underneath. I'm just tinkering with something. Hopefully it'll work out this time. Goodness knows the last seventeen times have been complete and utter failures.
Stop looking at me like that. I know what I'm doing. I'm Rikku – Mechanic Extradordinaire, remember? I've just never tried turning someone not alive into someone alive. I sto… found some information about it a little while ago. And there's someone who I miss. Someone we all miss and would like to have back in our merry band of idiots.
Jesus, will you stop thinking like that? You're worse than Brother, I swear. I'm talking about a little blond whiny kid, maybe you've heard of him? Tidus? Ring any bells? What is it with you and this Aurikku crap? We are NOT an item. Jeez. Besides – what did the big dummy do for Yunnie? For me? Don't answer that second one. You are all sick, sick, sick people. I love you, any way.
So back to my grand experiment: I stick a sphere into the little niche I carved into the metal for that reason. What's in the sphere? Just Tidus and Yunnie playing tag on the beach. Sounds kind of dumb, but all it needs to be is something with the essence of the person in it. And theoretically – since my lovely cousin isn't dead, it won't try to Unsend her. If it does – I'll rip the god damned thing to shreds. But first we'll see if the little gizmo I picked off… picked up helps any. It's supposed to draw extra magic out of the air to give extra power to the machine. So I push the button, which I painted big and red solely for my amusement. Immature? Of course, but there's something gratifying about pushing it, anyway. Leave me alone. It's my machine – I can paint whatever the hell I want on it.
It starts doing its normal machine thing, whirring and putting to its little hearts content. Machines have hearts, sillies. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean they don't have it. You can't see the little bugs in your eyebrows either, but you have them anyways. Same principle. Almost
This is going to take a while, and only about half the buttons are lit up, so out come my trusty old cards, for another couple rounds of… da duhhhh! Solitaire. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
…
To save you from reading the numbers one through one thousand, I'll just say a lot. So I sit down and I play. And play. I'm actually doing pretty badly. If I was playing for gil I'd be waaay into the red. But it's peaceful, the little taps of hard cardboard against each other, swishing over dirty metal surfaces. And I'm getting black finger prints on the pictures. Oh well.
Finally the damned lights are all on, and the machine starts growling and clacking to itself, spitting little bits of something out. It leaves burn marks on the metal it touched. Uh oh. This is not going according to plan. Wait – the Genius Mechanical Whiz Rikku doesn't need a plan. So I do the thing all little blooming Al Bhed mechanics are taught to do if something goes haywire. Run around panicking for roughly thirty five seconds, and then blast the thing with heat retardant chemical stuff. So, like a good girl – I follow the procedures. The screaming and running in circles are all my own idea though. If you're going to panic, do it right.
The machine lets out one final Uuurp, and sort of dies. A very thorough soft of. Sort of collapsing in on itself. Shit, damn, and all those other lovely words that you can use to express dismay. I give the hunk o'junk a pretty good kick – not my Super Ninja Karate Kick of Doom, but it's close. This results in a rather excruciating pain in my foot. Stupid Rikku. Stupid Tidus. Stupid Machine.
So, having run out of alternatives, I sit back down to my game, pushing blond hair streaked with black oil out of my eyes and flip over the next card. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. A jack of spades. What the HELL am I going to do with a jack of spades?
Today absolutely sucks.
