Disclaimer: No, I still do not own FFTA…I may cry over this! In fact, I think I will! )(cries)(
To my reviewers:
Mako-Streak: I am the evil lady of cliffhangers, as much as I hate to admit it. Hopefully, this chapter will be posted soon, or I may have to stab myself.
Jhon 117: My stories are confusing, weird, and, above all, full of quirky characters. So far Nils seems to be the fan favourite!
'twas a fyne day when thee tale of Loraine, the Lady of Violence, commenced, settyng a fair cast uponne the – OW! Okay, okay, geez…
Alie: Write properly or I may have to eviscerate you. And maybe some of your reviewers will have to as well.
Yes ma'am…
"What is with Ingg lately?" hissed Katarina, sending a sharp elbow into Darios's ribs, making him wheeze. "She's been all moody and quiet since last night!"
"Last night was when her brother arrived, kupo," explained Oskar patiently. "Sometimes you're as blind as you seem to think Darios-kupo is, kupo." This earned him a glare from the two viera, a sheepish grin from Darios, a pair of incredulous looks from Montblanc and Basil and a worried glance from Marche before the clan leader turned back to his maps.
"Kupo, you're off your head, kupo," commented Basil, chancing a look at the sniper and the summoner before shuddering. "Never, ever say that within a mile of them, kupo."
"I can afford to say a lot, kupo," said Oskar, grinning, and tipping his chair back. "I know things about them they would kupo kill to keep secret." At that, Katarina jerked up from her seat and swiped the Mythril Staff before her like a Spear, with an outraged yell.
"I ought to kill you, you dastardly little white fluffball! I'm going to string you up by your heels and leave you to – " With that, Kat's coherence degenerated into a mixture of insane profanity, threats, and mad staff-waving that finally resulted in Montblanc, Basil, Marche and Darios having to hold her down and Oskar aside with the innocent grin plastered all over his face which was rapidly wiped away as Etoile, rising out of the scrum with her bow very casually nocked, began to run at him.
He ran. What smart mog wouldn't, with a mad viera like Etoile on your trail?
"What in Exodus' name are you doin-" began Loraine, but she was cut off by Miserie in one sharp motion, who leaned forward and motioned her closer. The assassin bent forward.
"Raine, no one knows you're not Killer Rayne here. If they see me talking to you, I'm… I'm as dead as a KO in a jagd, all right?" whispered Miserie. "And my name isn't Miserie. Not here. It's Eldalie. They all call me El, or Li."
Loraine nodded, somewhat confused, before leaning back against the tree trunk. "Why couldn't you just tell them I'm not Rayne?" she said irritably. "It'd save me a lot of pain."
"Belief is a powerful thing, Rayne," Miserie - or rather, El – said in reply, rising. "I'll leave the food here. You can just reach it? Ok."
"Belief is a powerful thing, Ingg," murmured Matias, running his fingers along the blade gently, belying his shaking hand as he pressed it to her throat a little more firmly. "I believed she was dead for so many moons years. Sixteen moons since yesterday. I even memorised the date she vanished from my life forever. The tenth of Sagemoon, in the third year of Remedi's Rule. And I never stopped hoping." He swallowed. Ingg, unperturbed by the saber on her windpipe, watched his eyes, her face placid. Her brother hadn't used profanity much, unless he was really upset. Currently, his emotions were crossing between overwhelming happiness and soul-deep rage, swinging an unsteady dance between the two. She moved into the silence that fell as his emotions warred, like a hawk spotting the kill.
"Yes. We couldn't let her go back, and be driven out by your clan leader. He would've turned a cold shoulder to her, and he would've-"
"You think I care about half of what Sotel does any more?" yelled the blue mage, pulling the Shamshir away and stabbing it into the ground. "I don't! If he had done that, I'd just have run away sooner, with Raine! I couldn't let her go! Do you know how much she means to me!" He paused for breath, and sighed. "No. No, you don't. You've never known what the hell love is, all your life, so you wouldn't understand what I'm feeling!"
"True! But I wouldn't send her back, not if it meant she would be happy with you, not if it meant she would have been happy forever, not for all the gil in Ivalice!" yelled Ingg, advancing like a stalking Panther, grabbing him by the shoulders. "And do you know why?"
"Why?" he shouted back, jabbing her in the chest so hard she nearly stumbled back. "Why, because you didn't want someone to be happy when you weren't? Because you were so-"
"Shut. Up," she ground out, cutting him off mid-sentence with a few choice jabs of her own. "Think beyond yourself for once. Raine was recovering from two mortal wounds-"
"That you put in her!" he shot back, outraged.
"Yes, I did," she acknowledged through clenched teeth. "That aside. She was recovering from two mortal wounds. She was recovering from mental injury and a lot of inner pain, that your precious clan caused her."
"What inner pain?" he asked bitterly. "The only inner pain was what you caused her by ripping her away from a clan who loved her, nearly killing her, and turning her against her former clan."
"The inner pain that you caused, Mat," said Ingg bleakly. "If she had chosen, at that moment when she was coughing blood onto the streets we played on when we were kids, to live, and go, and spend eternity with you, only to waste away and die the next day, would it have been worth it? Instead, she lived. And she'll meet you again. Isn't that what you want?"
"No," he growled. "You've got it all wrong. You could've given her to us and not told us, told me, a lie about her being dead!"
"And you know what Sotel would have done?" she hissed, one hand fastening and unfastening around the hilt of her Masamune. "He would've turned her back. And she'd be clanless. And if you had followed, he would have put out every notice in town, denouncing you as a wanted criminal. You and her both. Sotel seems, to me, to be exactly the type to do that. He wouldn't care about the consequences, but under no circumstances would he let you go. He would have you, or no one at all. Who chose your clan name? He did. Who made the decisions? He did. Who chose who stayed or went? He did. If he had to, he would have dragged you back kicking and screaming, and if it meant he had to clap you in irons, he would, just to make you stay. And he wouldn't give two hoots about her. She failed once, whose to say she wouldn't fail again?" She took a deep breath. Ingg rarely spoke much in the company of her clan, but when she argued with her brother, words turned to razors in her mouth. "What I'm trying to say…not very well, I suppose…Is that Sotel doesn't care. He turns her away. You go to join her, he drags you back. That's it. The sad truth. He doesn't care about you as a person. He cares about those who he thinks are strong, the ones who will make his clan great."
"Killer Rayne, get up," growled the Soldier, giving her a rather unceremonious kick. Loraine grunted and slowly stretched burning muscles, rather painfully, and staggered to her feet.
"Faster!" She sucked in her breath sharply as the flat edge of a rapier hit across her ribs, a burning brand on her chocobo-riding bruises. Administering a glare to the Elementalist, she aimed a kick at the other viera, who danced out of the way and back, scowling.
"No time to be funny, Rayne. We're going to get you to the Cyril Watch as soon as possible, and you'll be safely locked up, so you can pay for all the crimes I-"
"Didn't commit?" interjected Loraine sarcastically. "Yeah, yeah. Look, I know you've heard it already, but here's the truth one more time. You stupid flan-brained morons have the wrong viera. My name is Loraine Thrieltalne. I'm not Killer Rayne. I'm just a Sniper. All right?"
"Shut up!" shouted the Elementalist, and hit her again. This time, Loraine stomped, which caught the other viera on a slipper-clad foot. She howled, and hit her again, drawing a searingly painful line on Loraine's shoulders. Hissing, Loraine tried to claw her, but the Soldier and a Fighter intervened, dragging her back from the other viera. "Just get her on the chocobo, away from Eloise!"
Privately, the assassin sniggered. The other viera had her comeuppance, and if she tried anything else with that damn rapier, she was going to suffer a little more than a few bruised toes. Actually, screw 'a little'. Make that significantly more.
Once they were on their way, Miserie – El – drew level with her, also on a chocobo of her own.
"Well done," El said dryly. "You've been able to make two enemies so far."
"Excellent," answered Loraine, just as sarcastically. "At this rate, they'll be tripping over each other for a chance to kill me."
"Not really," the other viera said, a tad thoughtfully, and rather worriedly. "But Eloise has a nasty streak, and she's a real bully. She won't hesitate to use that rapier, and she desperately wants to beat you black and blue with it. So watch out tonight."
"Thanks for the advice, Mi – I mean, El," said Loraine casually. "Don't they get suspicious watching us talk?"
"No, because I explained last night that I'm trying to get you to confess where you hid the bodies of Enrique and Muglio, that Beastmaster/Animist duo that was murdered a few weeks back, and I'm hoping to bait you into it by conversation," answered El, rather absent-mindedly. Loraine developed a sudden and loud hacking fit, which the white mage blinked at. "Cough? I developed a cough cure-"
"No thanks," gasped the assassin. "I'm all fine."
"Really?" asked El. "I can even cast Esuna, I find that works-"
"I'm really fine," choked Loraine. "Honestly."
"So where do we know they went?" asked Kat, tracing the edges of the paper in a way that was making it crinkle and crease beneath her touch and leaving jagged holes along the edges. Actually, 'tracing' might not have been the appropriate word; 'clawing' was more like it, thought Darios ruefully.
"Well, we know they went along here and down here, because it's the only way they could go, since there's mountain ranges on either side," said Marche thoughtfully, prodding at the location sculpture. He had quite a collection of them, and was rather proud of them, to the disgust of all the female members of the clan.
"So let's get them!" crowed Etoile, raising her bow triumphantly, making Nils glare suspiciously at her and Matias shoot her a peculiar look. The rest of the clan, accustomed to internal eccentricity, stayed silent, although Basil sighed and Oskar rolled his eyes.
"We might," frowned Marche. "The problem here's that there's only one way to get them. If we go up the pass this way, we might not be able to catch them, because when we reach it they'll be at the top already and past the hard bit."
"And if we go around, kupo, we'll take an extra week or so and they'll definitely be past by then, kupo," rejoined Montblanc. "So there isn't much chance of us catching them."
"What about if we fly in?" asked Matias, pointing to a spot on the map just in front of the path. "Nils has quite a few wyrms in the monster bank. They'll be more than – what's the matter with you?" he asked, looking at Marche curiously, who had turned a rather interesting pasty colour.
"I…" was as far as the clan leader got out before Basil jumped in with, "He's scared of chocobos, kupo."
"Chocobos? Me dragonets ain't no big yellow birds! They's these pretty scaly colourful things and I luff them. They's mine! Miiiiine!" shrieked Nils in outrage. The rest of the clan looked at him, confusion all over their faces.
"He says wyrms aren't anything like chocobos," translated Matias, grinning. "Don't worry. A wyrm ride is awesome. You'll love it." Marche's face was a shade of green that contrasted pleasantly with his hair.
"Excuse me a moment," he choked out, and stumbled out of the tent. Ingg rose and followed him, with all the offended grace of a tame Coeurl. Matias' eyes followed her, with a half-amused, half annoyed spark dancing through them.
"He gets travel sickness," offered Darios. The other Blue Mage nodded, grinning.
"That's because he's a pansy," added Etoile, grabbing one of the location sculptures and turning it around in her hands.
"Er, Etoile, kupo, don't do that," squeaked Montblanc uncharacteristically, making a desperate grab for the sculpture as, with a casual toss, the Sniper threw it to the Summoner, who caught it easily and began throwing it up and down.
"Oh, but Monty, why not?" drawled Etoile. Basil grinned and pulled his Longbarrel out of a pocket, aiming at the sculpture casually so that the barrel of the gun followed the flight path of the sculpture: a rather nice Ulei River rendition, but not nice enough for Basil to care. Oskar also grinned, pulling out his Cinquedea and aiming at the sculpture.
"Bet you I'll get it first, kupo," taunted the Thief. The gunner replied with a cocky grin and a, "You're on, kupo. Prepare to pay through the kupo pompom!"
"Wait a minute, guys," said Darios nervously, raising his hands. "I don't think this is a good idea-"
"Yes, yes. What my fellow mage means is that we should let Marche see how proficient his clan is at accuracy," cut in Matias, smirking. Etoile cast him an appraising glance.
"I like you," she confessed, pulling her greatbow off her back.
"Most ladies do," he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets as the sound of retching came from outside and the disgusted hiss of a certain ninja floated in.
"Arrogant, aren't you," observed Katarina. "Shall we?"
"Kupo," answered Oskar, pulling the knife back until it was just level with his ear. "And I demand that Etoile-kupo does not participate, kupo."
"What!" shrieked the Sniper indignantly.
"It's right, I mean, the soft toy's right," admitted Nils. "Arrow-lady has an unfair advantage of longness and bigness and powerness and betterness over the fluffballs."
"He means you're taller, bigger, stronger and more experienced than the mogs, so you shouldn't try it," translated Matias, drawing hostile glares from just about everybody, except Montblanc, who buried his face in his hands and growled, "Marche is going to be kupo pissed…he's going to kupo crack a rod at all of us, kupo…"
"I'm going to what?" mumbled a nauseated Marche, stumbling in through the tent flap.
"Ah, esteemed leader," Ingg said sardonically, following. "I think our clanners have prepared a little show."
With that, Katarina threw the Ulei River symbol high up in the air. Oskar's knife and Basil's bullet left at approximately the same time, and Nils' insane laughter sounded at the same time as Montblanc's girly scream and Etoile's triumphant shout of "YES!"
"Get off," hissed the Soldier, pushing Loraine off the chocobo, making her stumble. Eloise had made good on her threat. So far, the assassin had suffered about fifty bruises, nineteen rapier hits and two bitch-slaps, making her exceedingly pissed.
"Er…are you sure you don't want me to…" mumbled El, trailing the Soldier worriedly.
"I'm sure, El," snapped the soldier, with a quick grimace. "Criminals like her don't deserve healing."
Casting a wayward glance and an icy smile at El, Loraine's hands tightened into fists behind her back. When her clan caught up to her, these people were in trouble. Big, big trouble. And she was going to make that stupid bitch Eloise pay. Pay, damnit! She swore by Exodus, even if it was the hugest cliché ever, she was going to make the elementalist pay!
"Wyrms?"
"Screw Marche. Wyrms."
