Freya Crescent was absolutely, positively resolute not to speak to Zidane Tribal the rest of the day, if ever again.

It was not supposed to be a traumatic day. Everyone was still searching for clues regarding the reappearance of the wretched Mist, yet every lead was as scattered and confounding as the Iifa Tree's great, plundering roots. Though the intrepid little group held their heads high against the odds of finding and defeating Kuja once and for all, in light of the lack of sunlight, it seemed as if their long struggle was going to be in vain. Morale was on the verge of stagnating, though as the group's queen-to-be pointed out, this lull in their journey was an excellent opportunity to replenish their supplies, upgrade their armor and weapons, and otherwise prepare for the inevitable.

Quina was eager to resume hir training under Master Quale (or s/he had a good excuse for going to hunt more frogs), so the group decided to park their airship by the marshlands the Qu called home, leave Quina to hir business and march to the Dragon's Gate, to rest and restock in Lindblum.

It was a combination of bad luck, the Mist, an aside from Dagger about marshes being "cursed," a seemingly trivial outburst from Quina about the local fauna and a certain thief's impetuous curiosity that completely derailed their simple excursion, and by the time the party finally reached the city limits Freya was in such high dudgeon that even Vivi was impressed by her moody silence.

"She seems mad..." the tiny mage whispered gravely as he watched the dragon knight storm up the stairs, her naked tail kicking up the skirt of her coat like a blood red war banner. They were traversing one of the iron-forged access tunnels that led into the city proper, and between the rusty archways and churning ventilation fans, their conversation echoed like a lightning bolt through a copper pipe.

"Can you blame her?" Eiko piped up. She squared her hands on her hips and tossed a lecture over her shoulder. "Zidane, you spoony thief! That was a really thoughtless stunt you pulled back there! You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

"Hey!" the accused spouted from the back the line. "Don't lay it all on me! Quina's the one who said we could bag one!"

"And you're the one who took off with all our gear to make a trap for it without asking!" Eiko fired back.

Defensive to a fault, Zidane projected loud enough for the interested party to hear, "Oh com'on, it wasn't that big a deal! It's just a ribbon! If it's any consolation, I lost mine too!" He ruffled his untied mop of dirty blonde hair to illustrate.

Freya shook her head and huffed loudly enough to pause a courtroom, not even glancing back. Eiko carried on her case, righteously argumentative. "And all our rope, and our skillet, and our best medicine bag! Now we have to waste our precious gil replacing it all!"

"Alright, alright, geez, I'm sorry!" Zidane belted impenitently. "It's not like I planned for that ironite to show up! If it hadn't set off the trap, we could've caught a real live leafer! You have any idea how rare those are? Most people don't think they exist! The pelt alone would've raked us in a ton of money." He indicated the princess with a flat hand. "Besides, I was doing it to prove to Dagger those marshes aren't cursed. A leafer foot is the best good luck charm in the world, you know."

"Looks like you went ahead and proved yourself wrong," Dagger remarked with an airy smirk. Her bodyguard, who likewise appreciated the irony (if for no other reason than to see it prevail against the thief), flashed a smugly pleased look, and that set the Genome fuming.

"Oh whatever, you guys suck," was his final statement. With a sulking shrug he followed them out of the passage and into the Business District, where the party immediately and remorselessly dispersed.

---

Whatever his score of wrongdoings with women, Zidane knew better than to push his luck with an angry female--much less three of them. He avoided the whole lot until after dark, when it was time to check in for the night. It was easy to lose oneself in Lindblum, a city abundant in distractions, and Zidane had no doubt his friends could take care of themselves. Since he wouldn't be missed, he could have pestered his Tantalus brothers for a sleeping pad and avoided the hassle of an inn altogether, but even if his traveling companions were set in their own ways, he wanted to ensure they all had a safe place to rest.

Besides, as a final blow to his ego and some manipulative form of punishment for the leafer fiasco, Eiko had confiscated the group's purse from him (despite his appeals to Dagger, who only agreed with the indomitable six-year-old.) He would still like to keep track of their money, even if he wasn't allowed to touch it.

The Lucky Bobo Inn was where Vivi stayed his first night in the big city, and the first place Zidane checked. His guess was rewarded correctly, as he found three rooms set for the party upstairs. Unfortunately, the first relevant person he encountered was Steiner, who grudgingly indicated that they would be sharing the third room, since the ladies and children occupied the other two. Amarant had fallen off the map, and no one was expecting his return until morning. This didn't surprise Zidane in the slightest; Amarant was much like the cats from which he fashioned his fighting claws, with a penchant for solitude and contempt of crowds that drove him from sight whenever his presence wasn't absolutely necessary (or supper wasn't being served.)

Zidane shrugged off the knight's warnings about "behaving," "respectable establishments" and "giving the princess some peace" to roam the halls for a while before bed. Some familiar, childlike squeaks drew him to a door that cracked open without a hitch. When he stuck his head through, the girl perched on the farther of the two beds tipped a reproving frown his way.

"Zidane, you should knock," Dagger chided, though her tone lacked force, and the thief could swear she tucked away a smile as she resumed her bedtime grooming.

He shrugged affably. "I like to surprise people."

"You like to get in trouble, you mean."

"It's what I do best! So... what did you do today?"

"We went shopping. What about you?"

"Ah, just..." His eyes glued to the silver hairbrush in the princess's hand, its handle glazed with mother-of-pearl. It was the only item of luxury she had insisted on carrying. Her hair once fell to the small of her back, a beautiful river of black silk, and she always took special care of it, but it was obvious she wasn't used to handling short hair by the way her arms jerked in clumsy circles at every missed stroke. Zidane would have pounced on her plight with an offer to "help" if he weren't too absorbed with the luscious slope of her back, kindly exposed by the low cut of her overalls. 'Damn, she never stops lookin' fine...'

A spatter of shifting color on the floor next to the other bunk snagged his attention, followed by a little girl's sharp, cheerful command. "Zidane! Come here!"

He stepped around the foot of the bed and beheld the mess: Vivi and Eiko getting eaten by a pile of dusty quilts and pillows. The Black Mage was studying the patchwork quagmire in his lap with a confused pinch to his eyes, while the white mage flapped a pillow in each hand like a bloated set of wings.

"Uh, what's up?"

The day's earlier misgivings were apparently forgotten as the girl petitioned matter-of-factly, "Tell Vivi how to make a pillow fort! He doesn't know anything."

Vivi craned a "please help" look up to the Genome, and Zidane smirked benevolently. "Aw, that's not true. Vivi knows how to set a cat's tail on fire from fifty yards off."

"W-Why would I do that?" Vivi stuttered, mortified, as Eiko countered, "We can't make a pillow fort out of fire!" As if needing to reinforce that, she bluntly told the mage, "No fire."

"I know that!" Vivi squawked like a baby garuda. "I'm just saying, I don't think we have enough pillows to make a fort."

Zidane squatted on the wooden floor, taking stock of the cushy materials. "Vivi's right, you really don't..." He gathered a pillow in each hand, a grin sneaking onto his face. "But you have just enough for a pillow fight!"

"Wha--" Vivi's question was smothered by his hat as he fell under the first strike. "Eee!" Eiko squealed, jumping up and fighting in his stead. She took one large pillow by the hilt and swung it over her head, blocking the lighthearted barrage of linen and stuffing from the thief. Vivi recovered a moment later and, suddenly catching the spirit of the game, picked up the last pillow and flailed with all his might, eyes squinted shut.

Zidane treated them with a villainous stage-laugh. "Ahaha, I take you both on at once! I am super dual-wielding pillow master of quilt mountain!"

"Noooo!" Vivi wailed as he landed in a heap of titters and thrashing limbs, his pillow more of a shield than a club. Their weapons' downy innards began to rain over the three as the battle escalated, each blow like an exploding dove. In a burst of bravado Eiko leapt onto her assailant's back, declaring "En guarde!" while she pummeled the back of his head.

Zidane wavered as the little girl boxed his ears, and his cackling broke into crude laughter. "Ack, ahaha, what? Pillow fighting--is not--ahaha--a contact sport!" he sputtered, feathers muffling his vision. They traded a few futile swipes before he rolled headlong into the sheets and quilts, taking the little girl down with him. Eiko screeched and Vivi yelped as all the bed linens washed over the three like a tidal wave, leaving a simmering pool of chocobo down, cotton and giggles.

"Hey now," Dagger's matronly voice cut into their bedlam, "All of you cut it out! You're going to ruin those pillows."

"Avast!" Zidane exchanged the ridiculous villain act for a ridiculous pirate one, emerging from the layers of covers with a flourish. "What have we? A party pooper? Get 'er!"

Like a pair of soldiers, the children eagerly rushed the princess's bed, pillows in hand. "Pillow fight! Pillow fight!" they chimed as Dagger took a fluffy beating.

"Eek! Ehehehe!" Dagger scrambled for one of her own pillows and feebly held it against the pincer attack. Her crying laughter reached a high pitch once Zidane joined the fray, springing onto the bed and doubling the pillow offensive. "Oh--oh quit it! I--hehe--h-help!"

As if on call, the door swung wide open, Steiner's imposing bellow filling the room. "What's all this racket? People are trying to sleep around here!" His gaze stopped on the besieged princess, crowned with a wreath of stray feathers. Her freshly brushed hair suddenly resembled a raven's nest. "What are you doing to the princess now??"

Zidane's devilish grin brightened, and he aimed a finger at the knight. "Whuh-oh, the fun police! Attack!"

Vivi and Eiko swarmed him at once, this time chanting, "Fun police! Fun police! Fun police!" while their pillows buffeted his pajamas. Bewildered, Steiner recoiled into the hallway. "What? Stop that! Desist! Cease this assault!" A prominent hit sent a plume of feathers into his face, and the knight rocketed to the wall with a sneeze. "Ah, ACHOO!!"

The kids delighted in Steiner's bumbling manner, and they hounded him all the way to his quarters. "Fun police!"

"Stop that! I can't stand--ah--ah-choo!"

"Hehehehehe!"

Left alone on the bed with the princess, crafty thief fingers crept across the covers, accompanied by a leer. "Hmm, now it's just you and me..."

Dagger stopped him in his tracks with an outstretched foot, gruffly shoving him off the edge. "Oh, get off."

Zidane caught the floor and sprang back, "I've been trying to!"

A pillow chased him from the room. "Get out."

---

Steiner eventually ejected the pirate kids from his room and went on a hunt for their captain, but the thief knew how not to be found, so the knight's threats went to naught.

Zidane knew he couldn't hide forever, of course, and once the hall was dark and quiet he stalked it freely again. He was just passing another door on the way to bed when it abruptly flew open, casting him in a swath of oily lamplight. He was so startled that he almost didn't recognize the silhouette towering over him, clad in a simple blouse and breeches and ears pointed at a menacing angle, like demonic horns.

"You!" a she-voice boomed. It was Freya. She sounded pissed.

Clueless and caught in the headlight, Zidane fecklessly pointed at himself. "Me?"

"In here," she barked, her bruesque manner a page straight from Amarant's book. Before Zidane could say another word he was being hoisted by the collar through the threshold, protesting with all the eloquence of an oglop. "Wha--gwk!"

Freya slammed the door more neatly than humanly possible, dragged him to the foot of the bed and threw him down, the bedposts scuffing the floor with the forceful jolt. She had her claws so tightly ensnared in the lace of his tie that he could hardly swallow, much less break away, though after a few moments of being stared down like a criminal at the execution block, he managed to croak, "W-What's up?"

"You know what's up," she snapped, her stance not relenting.

Zidane really didn't understand what Freya's problem was. Unlike Eiko and Dagger, the dragon knight's grievance was far beyond mere annoyance, because if that were the only matter she would have clocked him on the head and been done with it hours ago. Sure, he could have asked permission before taking her tail ribbon, but he was too excited at the prospect of a rare catch and too eager--once again--to prove himself to Dagger to mind such simple courtesies. Apparently the trap needed a lot more rope and string than he had expected--he'd even sacrificed his ponytail tie for the job, and at the end of the day all he had to show for it was a bad rap and a lousy hairdo.

At any rate, this shouldn't have surprised Freya; she already knew him to be too rash for his own good, sometimes. So why the nasty treatment?

"Are you still mad about that leafer trap? It wasn't that big a deal! Were you especially attached to that ribbon for some reason? Did I break some kind of secret dragon knight club taboo thing? Is it your time of the month, what??"

She wrenched his tie into an effectively painful choker as she seethed through her teeth, "Keep digging."

"Grk--okay I'm--I'm sorry!" he wheezed, struggling against her steely grip. With a disdainful snort she let him go and paced away. Zidane glanced around the room while he caught his breath and straightened his collar.

The quarters were smaller than Dagger, Eiko and Vivi's, with a single bed and lonely window box, though the ornate dresser with a mounted looking glass compensated for the lack of space. Bare wooden floors and rafters were fenced in with flowery wallpaper the color of fresh mould, and in the blue night light with a few candles and lanterns lit, the walls looked like they were made of stale cheese. Standing in the corner directly across from him was a sharpened halberd, Freya's leather satchel hanging by its curved ridges.

He chanced a look over his shoulder and found her rifling through a dresser drawer, no explanation pending. What was she thinking? What was she planning? The silence was dreadful, the need to break it like an itch crawling up his raw throat. The best he could muster, though, was a rather petulant, "I'm sorry."

There was no response, save the punctuating clap of metal striking the wooden slab of the dresser. She stood with her back in his line of sight, so he couldn't see what she was toying with, and that mystery only heightened the tension. Zidane swallowed and tried again, this time modulating his tone to something almost earnest. "I am, really."

Surprising him once again was the flat, soft drop of her voice. "I know you are."

He shook his head, thoroughly confused. "Then why are you--"

Freya crossed the room in three swift, soundless strides, landing behind him on the bed and catching him by the ruff of his neck. His last thought was snuffed out with a harsh tug on a fistful of blonde hair. "Ah! Ow woman, that hurts!"

"I don't want to hear the sound of your voice tonight!" the dragon knight declared, the stranglehold on his once-ponytail all the authority she needed.

"But I--"

"No."

Zidane bit his lip, considering his options. He could try to jump away and get hurt or try to talk his way out of this and get hurt. He wasn't even sure what "this" was yet, but it wasn't shaping up to be good.

Freya promptly laid out her terms. "If you want to make it up to me, you'll be quiet." Though it was impossible to see her face the way she was kneeling behind him, he could practically hear an awful, devious smile in her next words. "And let me fix your hair."

Vow of silence instantly forgotten, Zidane whirled around, hackles raised with a nonplussed screech. "What's wrong with--"

A smart cuff on the side of the head bent him back the other way. "Shut up. Sit still."

Wary of further punishment, he folded his hands in his lap and screwed his eyes shut, not daring another peep. He didn't know what to think. At least when the boss was mad at him, retribution was immediate and obvious: he got his lights knocked out. Freya was being an awful female about it, though, and damned if he knew how women worked. Then again, even Ruby spelled out her bad tempers, loud and clear; everyone within two city blocks would know what was ruffling her feathers.

Freya was just being, so... so Freya.

The sound of slicing metal grew distinctly close as the object she'd procured from the drawer became evident: a pair of scissors. He shuddered, a nervous spasm flicking his tail across the cool surface of the bed. 'What is she doing? Is she really going to cut it off? I like my hair the way it is! Is she THAT mad at me? Does she expect me to just sit still and take this? What if I don't? ...What if I do? Is this some kind of test?'

No matter how upset she got, Freya would never do anything to seriously hurt him, right? He placed his bet on that bizarre form of trust and spoke up, reasoning against madness.

"What was so special about that ribbon, anyway?"

To his relief, his question wasn't met with injury, just scorn. "Hrmph. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Try me!"

"...He gave it to me," she said at length, the weighty undertones lingering beneath her tongue.

"Who?" Realization slapped him in the face. "Oh. ...Oh." He slouched as much as he was allowed, feeling truly contrite for the first time that day. "My bad."

"It was the only thing I had left of him, before he..." Freya let the memory go with a tapering sigh.

"Well he's still alive, right? He can give you a new one. Ow!" Freya pinched his ear hard enough to draw a freckle of blood. "You are the least sensitive fool on the planet," she said bitterly.

"I'm just trying to hel--ah! Ow! Oh gods!" Once his arm was twisted half-way up his back he gave up, nothing left to fight once the strident edge to her voice returned.

"Did you hear nothing in that part about shutting up?? Honestly, you are the gods' bane, Zidane Tribal."

She gave back his arm and let him stew in whimpers. For many grueling minutes the only sounds in the room were uneasy breathing and the munching of shears. He could feel her clawed fingers combing his hair, hitching on tangles and (if only he could explain) feathers, and once in a while she would cluck, "Tch, filthy," as if he were meant to apologize for his unkempt state, too. Telltale wisps tickled his shoulders and slid away, gone for good, and for lack of any mercy from his captor, he simply squinted his eyes, curled his toes, crossed his fingers and prayed it would all be over quickly.

"...There. I'm done."

Though he could sense her moving away from him, he didn't budge for several seconds, lest sudden movement rekindle the lady's wrath. Zidane gradually--cautiously--slid off the side of the bed, getting back to his feet and running his hands through his scissor-ravaged hair. He couldn't feel any damage, nor blood, nor a draught... It was just trimmed a bit, neat and away from his eyes. He hardly felt any different, just a little... lighter. It was a rather soft, savory sensation. He blinked, confounded. Was that all she wanted to do?

He didn't have much time to mourn over the pile of sandy-blonde trimmings left on the mat before Freya swept them into a rubbish bin, packed the shears away and set a heavy hand on his shoulder, driving him towards the door. "All right, go."

Zidane stumbled and hesitated in the opening, until his feather-addled thoughts found a voice. "Uh... that's it?"

"Do you want a cookie?" Freya snipped, the sarcasm strangely neutral. "Go on, go to bed."

Obediently, he started to leave. "Oh wait," Freya held him back, inducing a cringe.

'I knew that wasn't it,' he lamented, yet endured the rueful wait. He watched her dig something small and obscure out of her travel pack. On her return, she faced him the other way and ordered, "Hold still. One more thing." After some fidgeting she stepped back and announced, "There. That's it."

He reflexively reached around his neck and sought out her addition, and in a second his fingers twined around a strip of thin, smooth material...

A ribbon. She'd tied back his (now shorter) ponytail with a ribbon. He gaped at her, utterly cowed by the gesture. "Freya, I..." don't know what to say.

She stood tall in the doorway, ears relaxed and fine silver hair slicked with gold in the ample candlelight. Any trace of malice was missing from the midnight pools of her eyes as she peered down at him in a funny, tilted, appraising way, as if admiring her own work.

Finally she said, impressively deadpan, "You're forgiven." And shut the door in his face.

Zidane was left alone in the hall, appreciative, guilty and mystified.

---

The next morning Amarant showed up on the inn's doorstep, no questions asked, and the group departed Lindblum with refreshed spirits.

The spent pillows cost them 250 gil, which was about all that was left by the time Eiko returned the purse to Zidane. Before he could interrogate her on the matter, she cleverly interrupted, "Say, you look a little different! Hmm... Hey, did you cut your hair?"

Zidane scratched his head, considering it. "Uh yeah, I did! Dagger's not the only one allowed to, y'know."

Eiko then bounded away, blameless and satisfied, and the thief was left to contemplate their poor savings, exotic traps and haircuts.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if it meant something, to be given a red ribbon.