"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIEEEEEES!"

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIEEEEEEEEES!"

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADI…OW! WHO THREW THAT?"

Zell hated mornings. Zell also hated that Selphie thought that he should be the one to usher in those mornings, waking an entire cast of actors with vicious hangovers. If he was beaned by one more, just one more, empty bottle, then he was packing up his bells, joke cards, and pink unicycle and capering on out the gates. After all, a fool could only handle so much embarrassment before he wanted to trade his cream pies for an assault rifle. He huffed and thumped louder on his goatskin drum. There was such a thing as foolish dignity, the problem was that the ignorant masses saw him only as comic relief.

Zell continued his cries, shouting through the faire and pounding his drum, his pointy shoes carrying him nimbly from tent to tent and somehow managing to help him avoid any more airborne glassware. Perhaps the faire would realize his role as joking jester was vital to the smooth operation of the festival. There hadn't been any more bottles since he bellowed his indignation and rage, maybe they were finally coming to understand his importance in the grand stage that was the Balamb Faire. A bit more cheerful after these soothing thoughts drifted over his troubled mind, Zell pounded his drum with greater enthusiasm, the tattoo on his face crinkling in a broad grin.

The boot that hit his head came as a complete surprise.

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Quistis needed coffee.

Desperately.

Heads would roll if she didn't get her java fix.

It had happened before, and it could happen again…starting with the man that currently had his face buried in her long tresses, his blonde head pinning her own fair strands to the cot. Quistis couldn't get her coffee when she was chained to a snoozing Seifer by her own hair. She snorted, figuring that a scenario like this would be absolutely perfect fantasy fodder for the proper sort of bondage freak. Damn it, she needed that coffee and she needed it now. Almost twitching from caffeine withdrawal, she gave him a rough shake. "Seifer. Seifer! Wake up!"

"Mmm? Milady, stirrest thou from thine sweet dreams? Hush, beautiful aureate queen, for the nightingale yet sings her sorrowful nocturne. Sleep again, for the cock hath yet to summon the sun that shall soon set thine honey'd hair to flame with glorious gilded light. 'Til we hear his cry, hush and a'bye, Milady, rest…mmm…" Seifer, speaking to Quistis, but not yet with the waking world, was still lost in some romantic dream involving witches with tea fetishes, an evil black knight, and a nude and nubile lady that was in dire need of his skills with his lance. Impressed by his words, but still imprisoned by threads of her own silk, she poked him in his broad shoulder. And something about his poetry was very familiar…this from the guy who came up with names like Chickenwuss and Puberty Boy? Hmm…

"What ho, my fair buxom lass? Are there brigands about? I shall smite them with the fury of a thousand suns…" His hand flew up, grasping the hilt of a dream-sword, eager to draw the blade through the guts of any knave that would dare offend his lady. Quistis felt her breath freeze in her throat when his arm fell across her belly, the strong limb drawing her closer to his chest. "Fear not, Milady. The rogue shall not plague thee while I guard thine slumber."

"Seifer! Wake UP!" Her pleas went unanswered, except for the rumbling snores and occasional muttered 'Fiend!' or 'Ruffian!'. Quistis struggled mightily, but she was unable to make that hard, muscular body slide over…or under…or on top…or behind…Stop it, Quistis! You've already had this discussion with yourself. Taking a breather, she watched Seifer sleep and dream, No doubt riding his mighty charger, sword held aloft to do battle with his imaginary foes or slay the fearsome ruby dragon and win the lady fair. Even in sleep, he seemed so serious about his knightly duties, so determined, so damned good looking. You're doing it again, girl. You may as well just give it up and see what he wears under that doublet. I bet it's the same thing he wears under his armor, more or less. Hopefully less. Want me to get all poetic like he did? Okay…the nightingale has long finished her song, but wasn't this in a movie or play? He's good looking, but he ain't exactly a poet. Anyway, that damn bird quit whistling and here you are, still yearning for that strapping lad and his powerful…wit. Morning has broken and the cock must crow. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Quistis groaned. Her puns, even those of her lusty and recently very vocal subconscious mind, were never as witty or as entertaining as as Seifer's, although the horny little bitch was proving to be every bit as annoying as Seifer on his worst days.

Ah well, if she couldn't out-pun him, she'd settle for messing with his mind while he slept, toying with his dreams of valor and chivalry.

Lifting her hair off of his face so it didn't seem as if he was losing a battle against a golden hydra that happened to have incredible bounce and shine, Quistis moved closer to Seifer and began whispering in his ear. "Lord Almasy, my brave knight! Oh, woe is me! Thou must make haste and come to my rescue, for evil deeds have been done 'ere break o' the day." She smiled when his eyebrows drew together and his face became grim, rightly guessing that that the teasing green eyes hidden behind those closed lids would be burning with a righteous fire. "Milady? Art thou troubled? Tell me, that I may aim my arrow at the black heart of the devil that worries thee." Quistis almost giggled. Oh, but this was fun. Maybe Seifer had the right idea about this faire from the beginning. Not that she would ever tell him, of course.

"Oh, save me, my good and true sir, save me. A great treasure hath been spirited away by a wicked goblin, a burning liquid which containeth in it's mahogany depths my very life force. I fear that without this bless'd brew, my lifeless form shall stir from this bed nevermore. Alas!" Quistis finished with a sigh, waiting for Seifer to perhaps…"Fear not, Milady. This thieving ogre shall feel the sting of my…OOF!"…bloody hell, just fall off of the cot and onto his ass. Oh well, it was all for the best anyway. Quistis leaned over the edge of the mattress and pouted her lips, disappointment quickly turning to impish mirth when she viewed the prone figure of one royally pissed-off knight on the tent floor. "Why, good morrow, Sir Knight! Dost thou favor the company of the cold ground more than mine own? Has this earthy wench tempted thee away from my own 'exquisite azure skies' with promises of great fortune hidden in her depths? For none but dwarves are bold enough to bury their tools in her wide caverns."

"Goddamn it, will you shut the hell up?" Seifer rubbed his head, throbbing from an excess of red wine and a few bruises from the previous night's brawl. Damn it, the ground was hard and he had been so very comfortable. He angrily sat up and met the blue eyes peeking at him through tangled blonde hair. "Why'd you throw me outta the fucking bed?"

"Oh woe! Oh spite! He is possessed, speaking a foreign tongue that is unknown to me! Alas, m'lord lost to an ageless whore whose body of clay hath been trampled by many men…" Quistis was laughing loudly by this point, nearly breathless, her lyrical notes filling the tent with a sweet music. "…and many women as well. Thine eagerness to leave my own warm bed and fall into her dirty lap leaves me with a chill that freezes m' heart, oh sir. And yet…mayhap my knight feels kindly enough towards his old mistress to fulfill his destiny and complete his quest? 'Twas but a moment ago that m'lord pledged his undying love to me and eternal loyalty to my noble cause, vowing to veil the light of yon burning celestial orb if 'twould bring me my heart's desire. Oh fickle fate, what sin was mine, that thou hast turned his eye from me?"

Quistis finally stopped laughing when she saw that Seifer really was very uncomfortable. Were those bruises on his face there last night? It was very dark, and the torches scattered about the faire were probably more for enhancing the medieval mood than they were for actually illuminating anything practical, like the huge contusions on Seifer's face and neck.

"Oh fuck, what damn quest?" Seifer rose from the floor and plopped on the cot next to the newly dramatic Quistis, who was watching him with a keen, piercing interest. Damn it. Were her lips always that shade of pink? And what the hell was she talking about? And why was she finally getting into the spirit of the faire at six in the fucking morning? And why couldn't she have decided to play along when his pain from the fight was still dulled by the wine?

God, she pissed him off sometimes, but he didn't want her to stop talking like that just yet. Even though his head was throbbing, he couldn't help but notice how good she looked with that whole wrinkled-dress-tangled-bedroom-hair-sleepy-sexy-blue-eyes vibe she had going this morning. And coupled with those words he liked so much, he found that his pulse was pounding a bit lower than just that one painful spot behind his eyes. A lot lower. "I mean, umm, what quest, Milady?"

"Oh cruel fates! My knight hath forsaken me! He hath forgotten his oath to fetch the elixir of life, the essence of mine soul, the bless'd and holy coffee." She tried smiling at him with this final jest, hoping to put him in a better mood, but he just groaned and fell back on the cot. "Fuck, Instructor, don't make me go fetch coffee right now. I've got one bitching headache and I just want to go back to sleep."

"Hmm. Does your head hurt from the wine or that huge bruise on your cheek? And you should go get some coffee. It will help your hangover. Well, that , and about half a dozen aspirin." Leaning over Seifer, she carefully studied the angry mark that had been hidden by her hair earlier, lightly brushing the purple edge with her fingers. "But we may need to see about getting a potion for your face. That is a nasty bruise, Seifer."

"How the hell am I supposed to know which damn thing is splitting my head in two?"

"God, I was just asking! Hell, see if I ever try to help you again, you hateful fuck!" Furious at his switch from poet to asshole, Quistis stood and tried to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from her costume, but gave it up as a hopeless case. Selphie would be so disappointed, but Quistis was overjoyed. Maybe she could find something else to wear besides the dress she had to keep for that bet. Ducking under the canvas flap, Quistis shot one more venomous glare to the miserable knight. "And you better get over your little ailment quickly, Almasy. You have to beat Irvine in archery today, or you'll be wearing this corset with your helmet. And I hope to hell it squeezes the breath out of you." A quick blast of chilly air and Quistis was gone, stomping through brittle autumn leaves on her way to find her friends and a better costume. "Stupid Seifer and his damn lines…maybe he has that poetic shit written on his palms. I know he's not that damn smooth."

Yes dear, but it wasn't the bad quotes that had you ready to jump him, was it? One look at those thighs of his and you were ready to test his stamina like you NEVER tested it in class. And if he can keep you in a state like this for much longer, you're either going to have to engage him in a sweaty, lovely, give-and-take battle that will leave you screaming and begging for more, or you are going to have to invest in your own special lance, my dear. And I don't think they sell batteries at an event like this, honey. Cause let's face it, he's driving you, me…us, absolutely mad, isn't he?

Shut up, brain.

No darling, I'm about as far from brainy as you can be, remember?

Well, no actually. I've simply not very acquainted with you yet…

Yes, yes…I know. Believe me sister, I fucking know. Now don't you go running too far from that lad, even if he talks in his sleep like a madman. He was dreaming about taking you for one hell of a ride, you know that right?

How the hell do you know?

Oh, I keep up with his horny, down-to-fuck side on a regular basis. You might call us very old friends. We've been in contact ever since you started teaching him. Remember how he drove you crazy back then? Well, that was Seifer's id and myself having some hellacious conversations about you.

No, he just pissed me off everyday. I certainly wasn't attracted to him.

No dear, you've always had it for him because he's the bad boy after the good girl. And yes, that was us, always tickling the backs of your minds, hoping that you would eventually end up fucking like animals. Pheromones, you know.

Chemical signals that are utilized in beasts to…

Hey, shut up, Brain! I'm trying to get us laid here!

I know, but with SEIFER? Did you not just listen to how he combined three of the world's most beloved plays into one clumsy seduction attempt? Oh, if the Bard had heard such a bastardization of his work…

He would have said, 'Jolly good show, Seifer. Now get in there and make her moan in iambic pentameter.' That's EXACTLY what he would have said, Brain. Now go back to your end of the body, I'm handling things on the other end.

That's what I'm afraid of, and anyway, I hardly think that one of the worlds most beloved playwrights would….

SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, ER…US! My God, I think I've lost my mind.

Just as long as you have at least one or two orgasms before you get thee shipped to a nunnery…

Damn it, that is NOT what he meant in that play. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Yes, it is. You talk too much, Brain

No, it isn't. And at least I think before I speak, you great slut.

Is.

Isn't.

Quistis stuck her fingers in her ears and, ignoring the Trepies whose pupils bounced along with her, ran to find Selphie. If any single person would know what to do about jabbering voices and animal lust combined into one crazy package, then Selphie Tilmitt was her girl.

Well, there was always the possibility of sitting down with Seifer and having a rational conversation, discussing perfectly adult matters like…

Adult matters? Now you're talking…

God…not again.

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Seifer groaned louder after Quistis left him to wallow in his misery. With the exceptions of the nutty hag, getting punched in the eye, the fight in the wine tent, hearing his posse have very strange sex, his terrible headache, and Quistis' bitchy attitude…plus, the worst case of blue balls he could recall; yes, with these exceptions it had been a pretty good night. Hell, it would have been a great night if he had thrown Raj and Fuu out of his tent, instead laying his lady down on his own cot, which was a lot roomier than Fujin's.

In fact, he could have almost sworn that…did she really say 'thrust and penetration'? Hmm…maybe his headache wasn't as bad as he thought. After all, a mere headache couldn't stop the White Knight from soundly defeating the Emerald Ranger and getting one step closer to claiming his beautiful prize.

Why the hell did she have to leave in such a fit? And why did she have to look so fucking hot when she got mad? And why wasn't he chasing after her? He didn't even get the chance to really enjoy her company last night…well, he did enjoy her company, but he would have really enjoyed the chance to show her that he was a most generous host. And damn it, she had to run off, taking that costume with her. That costume and her soft skin, and that hair that smelled so fucking good, and those lovely, perfect…

So, why aren't you running after her, eh, Seifer?

"Trust me brain, running isn't exactly an option right now. I don't even think I could fit into my armor without snapping off my favorite weapon."

Seifer buried his face in the bed that still smelled like her lavender and chamomile shampoo, the shape of her body still faintly visible in the twisted blankets.

God, what a bitch.

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Note: Sorry, it's kind of short, but work is really fucking busy, so I'm having to rush this. I'll go back and fix stuff when my shift is over.

And Seifer always seemed like he would have a thing for characters that make grand and memorable speeches, hence his reliance on twisting Shakespeare's (or the Bard, as I'm calling him in FFVIII universe) lines.

I used to have a fairly odd teacher that would pull quotes from Shakespeare's plays and have us guess the hidden meanings behind some of the really famous shit, like "Get thee to a nunnery" could have meant a convent or a whorehouse, which I thought was perfect for Q and her confused, horny little self in this chapter.

This teacher thought this shit was hilarious, he called it Bastardization of the Bard. Fun game, if you like that sort of thing. I used it here for S to try to get into Q's pants. Just seemed to fit him. So, I think I've used bits of lines from a combination of Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing, Hamlet, and a sonnet…ooh, can't remember which one right now. I'll look it up later.

Oh, here's another coughing, hacking patient, time to go back to work. Yuck. Once again, I'll make my additions to this chapter at the end of the shift.