A/N: So here it is. It wouldn't be here without one Bazil Stag Hare, so love her, damnit. Blah and blah-er are still not mine to command, more's the pity.
A/N 2: Reviews! I love them! They make me happy! Actually.. I don't like begging for reviews, but they do make me more inclined to keep writing, so please tell me what you think. Criticism is welcome, as are fluffy happy praises. Flames will be… well, who'd flame something like this?
…
I'm really not that arrogant. Honest. I'll shut up, and you can read this week's installment. Which I also don't really like that much, just cause this style of writing is hard for two characters to interact in. Oh well. Too lazy to change it. Enjoy, and try to ignore any character bashing that sneaks in. I try, really I do.
Zapping out of one existence and into another one is a peculiar experience, and I don't use that work lightly, though it has been receiving undue abuse as of late. But this whole yanking a soul from one place to another without even some flashy lights or swirly colors is just... strange. And it's not anything like most people assume it is. You're lying peacefully in a bed in the Farplane, with the stars, if that's what they really are, twinkling outside your window, and then it's early afternoon and you're standing in the middle of an old junk shop dressed in black pajamas under a big sweltery red coat with Yevon knows what piled all around you. Not even a bang or a pop to announce your presence. Bugger. If Jecht had gone from one existence to another he probably would have gotten a "poof" and a "bang". Bugger again.
So, lets see what the facts are, if any. Fact one: I'm wearing my old guardian clothes, and sunglasses. That's why it's so damned dark in here. I remove the sunglasses and I can see… crap heaped in every direction past my ears, with some sort of trail leading through. Brilliant. Fact two: due to lack of hate knowing at my soul, I can assume I'm alive. Score: Auron 1, Universe 0. Ok. Not bad old chap. Now to try taking a few steps.
…
That was a mistake. Good to know I can still walk, however the crazy monk skills seem to be lacking. I was never this clumsy in my previous life, really. But all in all, I suppose the scenario could be worse. So I sneaky sneak around the piles of junk, and come out in the center of what appears to be a microcosm. That's a very good word, isn't it? I should use it more often. Microcosm. But this is really just a cleared space surrounded by, you guessed it, more junk. Let's give the designer of this cesspool a hand folks, assloads of metal everywhere really goes far when you're on a tight buget.
When did I develop a sense of sarcasm? Nevermind. I don't want to know that badly. And there's the owner of this fine establishment sitting at a table, back ever so conviently turned away from me. Damnit. There goes the sarcasm again. If I don't cork it… keep it quiet, people are going to think I've lost it. Well, people are going to think that /they've/ lost it when they see a Sent Guardian walking around. Nothing to worry about.
So I, like the genius I am, instead of keeping my distance from the stranger and calling salutations from afar, I use my mad monk skillz to creep up behind the person, and peer over their shoulder. Damnit. I'm acting like a teenager. This is… so uncool. For fuck's sake. I am a man. I am a monk. I am a responsible adult, and a Legendary Guardian to boot. I will not act like a teenager. I am above that sort of thing. Really. Acting like a nimrod is an occupation better suited to Tidus and that Al Bhed girl, Sikku or whatever her name was. Weird name.
So, this person with peculiar black and yellow hair, is sitting in front of some of the grungiest cards I have ever seen in my life. They're disgusting. And she or he's loosing, which is even more pathetic. Allit needs to do is move that black jack onto the red queen, andit can move the red king down from the crap pile. What? Yevon monks invented Solitaire. We had to learn to play so our superiors could degrade us even more than they all ready did. Good old public education and all that.
Of course, I'm so busy yattering like some sort of old woman to you children, that I'm playing over the person's shoulder without even realizing it. I really have been dead a long time. Crap. As you can imagine, my playing for the person, let's call him Joe, because it's stupid to keep calling it a person, lets out a freaking scream. Too many horror shows on SV these days. Really. Or maybe it's a personal space thing. Kids these days. And then I realize that there'sa big ugly metal CLAW about two inches from my eye.
So I do the typical ex monk thing to do. Seeing that the katana is obviously AWOL right now, I do the next best thing: sort of jump out of the way and do a complicated martial artsy thing that I think was taught to me when I was still a monk. Anyway. The net result is my assailant drops his, or maybe her weapon and rubs her shoulder. "Owwww! Rape! Murder!" And thenit tries to kick me There. You know the place. Where No Man Should Be Kicked. It's a she. No mane would kick another man there. Ever.
"What would I want to rape you for?" I ask, completely disgusted, not to mention in a crap load of pain. This is ow. A very big ow.
"I don't know. And gimme my cards back, you pig licking bastard."
"I don't have your cards, kid."
"Don't call me kid, asswipe. Gimme back my cards!"
This is ridiculous. I don't have the girl's cards. So I do something that feels familiar, you know, the cold hearted bastard routine. I very slowly take my sunglasses out of one of my secret pockets and stick them on my nose, and push them up oh so slooowly, giving the girl a death glare.
Those eyes. No, I am not drawn into them, I am not drowning in them, I can breathe. That's right… I can breathe fine. You just don't see Al Bheds in the Farplane, and most of them wear sunglasses, to hide such a distinguishing feature. I see why. A war in the Farplane would get very messy. Especially one between the meanest, the Guados, and the fiercest, the Al Bheds. Stark mad each and every one.
The girl blinks. "What are you staring at? Give me my god damned cards back!" And then the familiarity of the gesture sinks in. "Holy…. Auron? That you?"
I do some sort of lip curling smirk sneer thing. "Of course it is." Crap. Is this Sikku? Tikku? Damn. Ah. Rikku. Like that man whore I met while in a bar at the Farplane.
She dives behind a contraption smothered in sterile white foam, still hissing slightly. Two crossed fingers re appear. "Go 'way. You're a result of the fumes. Right. Fumes. Heh heh heh." Wow. That laugh scares the crap out of me, even when I was dead, technically, and couldn't really be killed all that easily.
"Where is the Lady Summoner?"
An irate head peeps around a table leg. "There isn't a Summoner anymore. Go 'way." This is ridiculous. Never before has a glare of Doom failed to work, especially on someone inferior to me. "Yunnie's not home."
As though on cue, a door cracks open somewhere and the scratchy voice of someone who had been sobbing hysterically up until recently inquires, "I'm s-sorry, R-rikku. Are you t-talking to someone in there?" A hiccup.
"No! No one! It's just me and my lovely cards, Yunnie!" She groans melodramatically, and grabbing my cowl, yanks me down and pushes me under the table. Which she then steps in front of. Stupid bint.
Black boots and a blue skirt appear in front of the table. "Ooh. Okay, then." A pause. "What's that on the table, Rikku?"
"Erm…. It's a device. To shuffle cards."
Yuna ignores this rather blatant lie. "Have you seen one of my spheres? The one with me and Tidus at the beach? It's missing." Sniffle. I'd almost feel sorry for the girl, except she's crying over Tidus. Mr. Insufferable. The bottomless pit himself when it came to eating.
"Um… no! Why don't you ask Wakka? Maybe he took it by accident." The crazy wench trods on my fingers.
"Ooh. Okay." The black boots disappear and I roll out from underneath the table with as much dignity as is salvageable. I did just get manhandled by a girl. A puny little blond girl, at that.
"What the hell?" I'm pissed now. Very, very pissed. And I definitely scare Rikku a little. Score Auron 2, Universe 300. Damn the bastards.
She turns on her cute little Al Bhed heel. It's not cute, but it is very little. I got a good look at it while residing under the table. "I'm leaving." Phew. Time for some Auron try to pull his act together time. "And you're coming with me." So much for that idea. But I follow, like a good boy.
Somewhere between my ears I can hear Jecht laughing his head off.
