a/n: Happy 5th Anniversary in the West. The traditional 5th anniversary gift is wood, and so we have a small team collecting samples of flora. Also collecting trouble. And miracles.
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.
Cross scratched discretely behind one ear, readjusted the flower that was tucked there before it even dared to droop, and hefted the tool the Outfitters had insisted was the best. A little too bulky, maybe, but the added panels on the handle increased the quality of any samples collected, or such was the promise. Cross gave it a twirl in the air out of boredom. The blur of the wedge-shaped blade marked out a satisfying wall of destruction above their head, but the weight of the tip of the axe was heavy enough to pull them off balance.
Dancing to a halt, Cross examined the weapon with a wry smile. "I feel like a fool, swinging this around."
"It's not for swinging," Hope pointed out kindly.
"Not much good if you can't swing it."
"Not like that," she agreed. "But for chopping..." she mimicked a short jerky movement in front of her torso, "it really is the best solution."
"Of we could have brought a skell," suggested Lin, not for the first time. The bright eyed 13 year old tucked a dark strand of bobbed hair behind one ear and started to describe her ideas in detail. "We could rig a chain-saw on one arm, brrrrrrrrrzzzzzh! And then maybe a circular saw on the other, gnnnnanawwwwwnnnn! It would be lumberjack and sawmill in one sweet package."
"...," pointed out the fourth teammate. Phog ducked his blond head until his face was completely hidden by floofy hair. He also carried an axe, but on him it looked more like a tool and less like a potential weapon.
"Yes, probably too loud even for Cauldros," Hope agreed.
Cross admired her patience with teenage chatter, but was equally intrigued by Lin's vision for novel weaponry. Testing skell chainsaws would make for an interesting mission. This one was, to be honest, a little boring. They'd been sampling fauna on the different continents of Mira since before lunch, and the sunset had rolled across the sky a few hours past. The mission hadn't been exciting at the start, and the tasks hadn't improved with repetition. Find the target (a largish tree-like plant of some sort), chop a few fragments out of it, tag them and bag them, wait while Hope muttered over the properly identified splinters and Phog plastered some kind of plant-healing goo on the cut, then move on. Cross was itching for something a tiny bit more exciting, and Lin was clearly a few chops shy of open revolt.
They were now on their fourth continent. All the wood gathered in Primordia had been too wet, and Oblivia had been too spongy. Cross had hoped that Noctilum would be just right. They had thought it would happen when they watched Hope start to smile with satisfaction over the chunk of wood they'd collected. Then the sliver in her hand had released a puff of ether so bright that she'd dropped it with a sharp cry. The rest of the team had clustered around Hope in concern, but she'd denied that she'd been hurt. "It was the surprise of it," she assured them, but her gentle face was even more thoughtful as she slipped it into a sample bag. Cross was relieved when she declared that the silica content was too high. The glowing trees of Night Glow Forest shaded the land and lit up the nights, but maybe they could defend themselves as well.
Now they were in Sylvalum, silvery and sandy and featuring pearly floating gas balls that were tethered rather than supported by the tangled vines connecting them to the ground. They chopped a wedge from the composite trunk of the first tree they met upon reaching the pale shore, but Hope frowned and shook her head after the first glance. "Far to flexible," she said, nonetheless dropping it carefully into a sample bag. The team had collected a few more chunks, from larger bubble trees. Each time Hope had shown polite interest but no enthusiasm.
By unstated agreement, the team had not turned toward the base of the Noctilucent Sphere, just as they had not flown up to the Roost in Noctilum. Nothing would stop BLADE from completing missions, but there were some areas that you didn't enter unless it was absolutely necessary. The massive sphere hung to their right as they swerved toward Lake Ciel, blocking more sky than even the largest of Mira's moons, and was soon left behind. Their skells cut through the shallow waters of the lake, spraying sheets of water and swerving around the legs of towering but sleepy indigen. Hope guided them to the far north of the lake, toward a swampy reed meadow dotted with yet another type of tree. Cross wasn't sure if these were adult trees or giant seed pods or even segmented multi-organism colonies, since every three meters the structure of the plant changed wildly: first a smooth column that genuinely resembled a tree trunk, then a series of stacked shapes resembling pancakes or spools, then a misshapen fringed bladder balanced on the top. They'd have to perch on the top of the skell to get samples from every level, maybe even take a few wacks at it while flying.
Cross knew something was special about this sample from the first axe strike. The blow rang across the waters with a bright crispness. Hope must have noticed it too, because she was at their side immediately. Cross snagged the the largest wood chip before it could splash into the lake, a pliant strip as long as their arm, and handed it to Hope before collecting the rest of the needed samples. Then the familiar tag, bag, wait. Except this time Hope was studying her sample intently, and after tending to the gash in the tree thing Phog had joined her instead of wandering off to lick a promising rock.
Cross would have poked their nose into the discussion but something in the sky had drawn their attention. The sky, all the darker for the gleaming moons tacked in their fixed orbits, had started to flicker and flash. First along the rim of the horizon, then rolling upwards, a crimson aura filled the sky with tongues of orchid flame. Hope noticed almost as quickly as Cross and was ready with weapons drawn. Aura events aggravated the indigen of Sylvalum, and a fight was certain to start, soon if not immediately. Cross was slightly relieved to see Lin safely seated in the team's skell, but they were still far from relaxed.
Phog, however, didn't draw his weapons. He didn't even stow away the sample. Instead, he propped the wooden strip against his thigh, bouncing it slightly before bending it in a shallow arc. Cross had already fixed their eyes on a coronid pawing the lake at a distance. The beast was small for the species, which still meant that it was taller than a handful of skells, and the aura was already setting it into a frenzy. Cross looked over at Phog impatiently. The young man was carefully fixing a fine wire from one end of the branch to the other, making an impromptu bow. He plucked the wire and a strikingly clear chime sounded.
There wasn't time to figure out what Phog was doing, not even enough to yell at him in the hopes of snapping him out of whatever focus that was gripping him. Cross crouched in readiness as the coronid made up its mind and charged across the lake towards the huddle of BLADEs. The skell was humming with weapons lit up, ready to blast, but this beast was more than one skell could handle. It would be up to the ground team to do their share of damage.
Then the sound started. Cross didn't turn around, but they didn't need to. The music wrapped itself around the group, a simple tune that wavered and rolled, then spread like a fog over the lake. A brief glance snatched over their shoulder revealed the source: Phog and his brand-new one-stringed instrument, one of his sheathed swords drawn across it like a bow. There was no time to marvel, because there was a greater marvel in front of them. The coronid had skidded to a halt before it had engaged the party, and was dipping its head into the music as if it were drinking from the lake itself. Cross didn't trust this change, but they raised a empty fist above their head, warning Lin not to engage. Hope was stunned enough to lower her knife, although her launchers hovered obediently, one at each shoulder. Behind them, Phog sawed away steadily, a constrained range of notes that slipped past each other, rippling across the otherwise silent waters.
The aura ended, the song ended, the coronid wandered off to its usual foraging spot, and Cross whipped around to stare at Phog. "What the..."
Phog beamed from behind the stardust of his bangs. "Yup. This will make you a great cello, Hope, at least for the front of one. We still have to find something strong enough for the sides. So, Cauldros next? It's our fifth stop and five is one of my favorite numbers."
a/n: IsrafelCello on tube of You getting me through the last half, where I chickened out of a fight after writing myself into an aura. I just realized: in another anniversary story, Phog and Frye manage to charm a saltat with brass instruments. (Phog + music + unlikely indigen) amuses me.
I love Xenoblade X with all my heart and I would love a port but even without I still have a brain full of dreams.