"Irvine. Irvine! Do you not hear the trumpets?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah, I hear 'em. I wish they'd quit. I can barely hear that pretty twinkly music from that tree over there." Irvine used his turkey leg as a pointer, gesturing towards a tree with low hanging branches.
"Twinkly music...? Kinneas, just how high are you?"
"Can't you hear it?" Irvine watched the Black Knight pace and stomp. He noticed that Squall had a peculiar hair-flicking habit when he was losing patience with the world. The way he would toss his dark hair from his face made Irvine think of the girls in shampoo commercials...and Squall joked about him being vain? Honestly! "Humph, no, I guess you can't. It's the music of the gods, man! Music of the gods!"
"I don't hear anything but the trumpets. We need to go!"
"Aw come on, Squall! Let's stay and listen! How often do you get to hear music like this?"
"I told you, it's time to go! Those trumpets mean..."
"And besides, you need to taste this. I don't know how they cook these bitches, but these turkey legs…Goddamnit man, they kick ass. Do you think that they really ate nothing but turkey legs back in the day? I know they didn't have the four food groups or the dietary pyramid, but surely they ate more than just turkey."
Irvine regarded his half-eaten poultry limb. Bloodshot eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Hey Squall! Do you think if there was like a GIANT turkey and it got in a fight with a chocobo, do you think it might win? I think it could, but it would have to be a really BIG turkey." Squall pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered about starting a drug screening program at Garden. Irvine didn't notice. He was in his own happy world where food tasted better, colors were brighter, and absolutely fucking genius ideas were hitting his brain with an amazing frequency.
"And yuck! My hands are pretty damn greasy now. Do you think they used napkins back in ye olden times? Or do you think that they just had some harem girls to lick their hands clean? Wait...would they have been harem girls or would they have been called strumpets? Hmm...and don't strumpets get paid? I think harem girls are kind of permanent, like furniture, just furniture that you can fuck. 'Cause, you know, that would be pretty damn sweet and speaking of sweet, this wine is fucking awesome."
"Irvine, let's go! That's your fifth leg! And those trumpets mean that it's four o'clock. If we're not there, then we forfeit!"
Irvine sighed. How could he be expected to truly enjoy the sights and sounds, the smells and fucking awesome tastes of the faire if Squall wanted to do nothing but compete? He admitted that there was a certain beauty to competition, but damn it, there was a hell of a lot more to life than just winning some stupid archery contest! And of course Squall could only hear the trumpets. Subtlety was never the Black Knight's forte, so the soft sounds of the hidden harp would be lost on him. Irvine sighed again. Squall was missing out on the whole faire experience by losing himself to the thrill of competition.
Hidden by a screen of brown and gold leaves, a harpist watched the exchange between the two as she played her music. Her strong fingers plucked a pleasant melody for the enjoyment of the patrons below, but only a few people seemed to notice the delicate sounds of her instrument. Irvine tried to ignore Squall for one more minute, listening to the final notes of her song as they were lost on the cold breeze. The song ended and Irvine quickly finished his food so Squall would stop tapping his booted foot. He tipped his hat as they passed below the unseen harpist, a master of one art paying tribute to the mistress of another. She smiled, then began a new song. At least somebody appreciated her talents.
"So, when you beat Seifer today…"
"If I beat Seifer. He is really good at this stuff."
"Don't start this again, Irvine. You have to beat him. I don't know if I can…"
Irvine shushed the Black Knight as a scarlet and gold blur flew by the archers. "Was that Quistis?" It had to be. There was nobody else at the faire that could jiggle like that with every step. He watched the figure flee the crowds and head to the camping area, obviously eager to be away from any questioning eyes. Hmm…
"What? I'm not sure, but that is definitely Seifer right behind her."
Irvine scanned the crowd, which was extremely easy considering that the Thirteen Dwarven Treasure Hunters with One Professional Burglar and the Melodic Midgets from Midgar were the only people around him at the time. Over a sea of pointy hats and thick beards, he glimpsed the White Knight, who was clearly in search of...someone. Hmm…
"What the hell is he looking for? Doesn't he know that it's four o'clock? Surely he remembers that we are still in this tournament."
Irvine tapped his gloved finger against his lip as he watched Seifer's head turn left and right, looking for a very particular someone. He dragged Squall closer, kicking dwarves and weird little guys with very hairy feet out of their way. "Forget him, Irv. Let's just get back to the…OW! Why'd you pinch me?"
"Can you be quiet for one damn minute? I'd swear that you got a contact high from those greens, because I've never heard you talk this much before in my life!" Irvine pulled Squall behind a convenient tree and together they carefully spied on Seifer. The White Knight was muttering and cursing, livid about something, glaring at the odd dwarf unwise enough to get close to him. Squall chuckled. "This is fantastic! Look at him! He's shaking! If he keeps twitching like that, then he'll never be able to send an arrow to the center of the target." Irvine said nothing, noticing that Seifer held a white ribbon in his hands, idly stroking the fabric as if it could summon the very person that he was so keen to find. Hmm...
Squall tugged on Irvine's sleeve, eager to leave the furious Seifer behind and focus on the contest. "Let's go, Irv. He's not the only archer left, you know. Besides, Selphie will expect you to wave at her before you pick up your bow and Rinoa will be hurt if I don't do the same. We need to hurry, or we won't have time to greet our noble ladies before we start."
Irvine nodded, smiling when he saw Seifer kiss the ribbon and tuck it into his sleeve. Yes, the competition was looking for a very particular someone indeed. Interesting. "Yeah, I reckon you're right. Can't keep the ladies waiting, now can we?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quistis sat on Xu's cot, chugging away at a bottle of Mimett Merlot and cursing herself for being a fool. Humiliation at being discovered by Seifer's posse was evaporating in the heat of a lust that would make Ifrit consider calling the fire brigades. She hoped to drown herself…umm, her inner self with wine, but it seemed that the horny bitch was able to swim. And the more she drank, the mouthier she became. Quistis laughed at the thought that she was a paradigm of good behavior and decorum, while her inner self was the crazy chick at a party that drank too much and fucked the football team on the pool table.
Well, darling. You may as well tear that costume off and switch with Zell. You'll look terrible in his clothes, though, because your legs are a hell of a lot longer than that short fucker's. You need to dress the part now that you are the single biggest fool in this whole fucking faire! I can't believe you! Seifer had his tongue down your throat and his hands were EVERYWHERE. And you let an audience stop you! If it had been ME, I would have told them to make some popcorn, kick back and enjoy the show.
Shut up, you bloody damned exhibitionist.
Hell no, darling. I told you that I would make you suffer if you continued to ignore me and now I…
Damn you, don't you think I'm suffering a bit myself? I feel like I am on fire right now!
Are you now? Welcome to my world, because I feel like that ALL THE FUCKIN' TIME! Oh boo-fucking-hoo! But there is a way to end your suffering, dear. Run back to that man, take his sword in your hands, and impale yourself on his blade.
I'm hardly suicidal just because I didn't get laid.
Oh, I wasn't talking about THAT sword. Don't be facetious, dear. You know EXACTLY what I meant. And you better hurry, before he finds someone else to fuck. If you won't let him breach your defenses, then I'm sure that he will find another, easier land to conquer. He does have a lot of female fans throwing their laurels in his face; all perfectly willing ports for a big wooden ship and two man crew. You wouldn't want him to sink his anchor in some whore's murky waters, would you? Not when he can take a dip in a pristine lagoon?
Stop it. He wouldn't do that.
Oh really? And why not?
I-I don't know. He just wouldn't. Would he? He was so different today, almost…
Well, keep denying him and see where he sets his rudder. You'll see nothing but his mast sailing off into a completely different sunset, dear.
Wait. What's with all of the nautical innuendo? He's a knight, not a pirate!
Eh, I've used the sword thing so much that I thought I'd try something new. Anyway…he's not just a knight, he's YOUR knight. And you're his lady. But you're right. He was much different today, wasn't he? Who knew that he could be so damned charming, eh?
Well, yes. He was rather…
And who knew that he could be so damned chivalrous?
I-I guess so, but there was nothing…
Ooh! Say no more, because I know exactly what you're thinking! There was NOTHING chivalrous about that kiss, eh?
No, it was…
Quistis chuckled, finally in drunken agreement with her libidinous id. She tipped the bottle up and finished what remained of the sweet liquid, knowing herself better than she realized. Without a push, be it from her friends or a friendly bottle, Quistis Trepe simply didn't pursue her desires. And right now, all she desired was the fellow brave enough to face her rather infamous temper.
Well, go on! It was enough to make you want to stop being a lady for a bit, wasn't it?
Oh ho! Trust me, there was NOTHING ladylike going through my mind just a little while ago…
Good girl. Turn around and head back towards the archery contest. See if he'll let you guide the flight of his shaft, won't you? I daresay you'll be begging for more once his arrowhead hits your bulls-eye a few times.
God, where the hell do you come up with these things? Do you spend ALL of your time comparing perfectly innocent objects to various anatomical bits?
Oh, I have nothing else to do…seriously. Now get going so I can find another way to occupy my time, or I'll get really creative, darling.
----------------------------------------------------
"Move the targets back another ten paces!"
Brddrrrrdrrrrr--DUM! Zell beat his drum as the targets were moved again.
Thunk! Two more archers eliminated. Leonhart, Kinneas, and Almasy remained.
"And another ten paces!"
Brddrrrrdrrrr--DUM!
Th-thunk!
Brdddddd...
Zell dropped his drum in disbelief. The Black Knight missed! "Lords and Ladies! Another competitor hath been eliminated! And that leaves us with only two more brave champions! Alas, our own hero, the great, the valiant, the true...the Black Knight himself, hath loosed his final arrow and OW! Quit it! It's not my damn fault he missed!" Picking up his drum and using it as a shield, Zell ducked and dodged the missiles launched by irate archery fans.
Somehow an angry group of Leonhart supporters managed to hijack the catapult used for historical demonstrations and send a watermelon into the stands. This aerial assault was followed by a wave of raven-clad warriors wielding their souvenir swords and battle axes into the crowd. A handful of sticky Almasy fans, their white clothes now spattered with pink pulp and black seeds, started throwing punches and screaming obscenties. Some Kinneas faithful joined the fray and soon half the audience was bloody and bruised. Security arrived, but they were turned back by the sheer magnitude of the battle. Reinforcements were called, but even then it took nearly an hour to get the crowd back under control.
Squall stood in stunned silence. It was almost impossible to hit the targets from such a distance, but even so, his arrow barely missed the bulls eye. Furious, he broke an arrow over his knee and stomped back to his gear. Gathering his bow and bag, he looked to Seifer, fully expecting to be met with a cocky sneer. He was surprised to see Almasy ignoring him, his green eyes scanning the stands.
But at least Irvine seemed to be right about the chocobo greens and their effects on concentration. His accuracy, which amazed Squall anyway, was absolutely freakish after that smoke break. He allowed himself a smug grin, confident that it would be Irvine that he faced in the final joust.
Before walking away from the competition, Squall clapped Irvine on the arm. "Great job, Irv. Keep this up and you'll win for sure. It'll be the Black Knight versus the Ranger in one hell of a joust tomorrow, eh?" Irvine gave Squall a broad smile and returned his attention to his bow. "Yeah, thanks Squall. Now you better get your ass in the stands to cheer for me!" He watched Squall disappear into the crowd before turning to consider the tall knight beside him. Yep, he was still looking for someone. He grinned and slid closer to Seifer, who didn't seem to notice that a tall Galbadian was standing right next to him.
"Hey, Almasy. Selphie told me that she talked to Quistis earlier today. It seems that the two of you have a bet going. What exactly was the wager?" Seifer ignored him, instead focusing on his bow. Irvine carefully picked his next arrow. Running his fingers over the dyed green feathers, he tried once more to get the attention of the knight. "Ooh, Seifer, you're about to drop that ribbon in the mud. Better be careful, man."
"What?" Seifer clutched at his arm, afraid to drop that precious reminder of his lady. The ribbon was where he left it, safely tucked in his sleeve. He warily eyed the grinning green-clad ranger. Irvine's smile grew wider when he saw the concern in Seifer's face. "Ooh, I must've been wrong. Glad to see that you are so worried about it though."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Well, if you had just shrugged or something, I might've thought a bit less of you."
"What the hell?"
"Who gave it to you?"
"Who gave me what?"
Irvine licked his thumb and ran it on the edge of one feather, making the tiny barbs adhere a bit closer together. "See, the thing is, I keep getting loads of ribbons and favors from all of these chicks. I have so many that Selphie had to cram them in a sack. They're pretty much all the same to me, so I don't wear any favors while I'm competing. It wouldn't be fair to my favorite little fairy to wear a ribbon from another woman." He wiped his thumb on his sleeve and pointed to Seifer's arms. "I've not seen you wear one yet either. Zell's not even competing, but he keeps a pink ribbon on his arm because his little bookworm girlfriend gave it to him."
"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?"
Irvine pulled his bow, testing the draw. He watched as the targets were moved back another ten paces. "I do, however, make sure that I carry that bag with me when I get ready to compete. Do you see it?" He jerked his thumb towards his gear. Seifer saw a plain cloth bag lying next to Irvine's quiver. "Yeah? So, you carry all of 'em around so she won't get pissed if you wear just one?"
"Well, Selphie likes it that all of these women are so into me. She reckons it's flattering, so that's why she keeps all those ribbons. They don't mean a whole lot to me, but that bag over there does. So, since I can't really wear a big ol' bag around my neck, I just carry it with me."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Irvine grinned again. "Not really. I'd pour every one of those ribbons in the mud and carry the bag in my pocket, but she likes to see me tote it around. It's...kind of like wearing a ribbon for her."
Seifer rolled his eyes. "You two have a really weird concept of monogamy, you know."
Irvine chuckled. "Give me that ribbon for a sec."
"How the hell do you know about my ribbon?"
"I just do. I've got a fairy for a girlfriend, remember? I reckon some of that pixie dust she's been sprinkling on me has given me magical powers."
Seifer pulled the ribbon from his sleeve. "I thought you had a whole bag of ribbons. Why the fuck do you want mine?" Irvine snatched it from his hand. "Hey! Give that back before you get an arrow up your ass, cowboy!"
"Easy, killer! I just want to look at it."
"Well, give it back before I turn this from a faire to the scene of ye olde homicide." Seifer lunged for the ribbon, but the wily Irvine dodged his hand.
"Hold your arm out, Seifer."
The knight looked at Irvine like he had just grown a second head. If it had been Squall, he would have laughed in his face and shoved him into the mud, but he was curious about the cowboy's motives. Irvine tied the ribbon around Seifer's upper arm then stepped back to his position by his gear. "There. Now your lady will be able to see that you have her favor on your arm."
Seifer did laugh at this. Turning back to his target, Seifer released his arrow, barely hitting the outside edge of the innermost circle. The targets were so far that it was nearly impossible to get a bulls eye. "Fuck!" Angry now, Seifer waited for Kinneas to hurry and eliminate him from the tournament. He knew that Irvine wouldn't miss. "That's great, cowboy. I don't think she's anywhere around. She took off and I can't fucking find her."
Irvine laughed this time. "Well, word will get around anyway. Don't worry about it. Squall has worn Rinoa's favor since this thing started, and people know about Selphie and me, so you are kind of the mystery man of the faire. Everybody wants to know, you see. It'll be a big deal when you wear that white ribbon tomorrow in the joust." Stepping to the line, Irvine pulled back and carefully judged the target.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Thunk! Irvine's arrow hit the second innermost circle, just beyond the bulls eye. Bowing when the shocked crowd booed and hissed, Irvine winked at Seifer. "Well, hell's bell's. It looks like I missed. Gee, it must have been the wind."
Seifer dropped his bow, unable to even try to believe that Irvine Kinneas, master marksman and deadly sniper, missed his last shot. "How the fuck did...?"
A strange sort of smile passed over Irvine's face. "I just noticed a lady a little while ago that seemed like she might need to see her knight win the joust tomorrow. It's a funny thing how seeing a pretty blonde can make a man's mind wander, isn't it, Seifer?"
Seifer dodged a tomato that was thrown at his head. Then he dodged a potato, two carrots, a boot, a wine bottle and a dwarf. Deciding that the crowd might soon be after him with more than just produce and hobbits, Seifer decided to make a break for the relative safety of his tent. Glancing back one more time at the still-grinning cowboy, Seifer yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Kinneas!"
"Yeah?"
"Why'd you..." Shit! Another dwarf. Who throws a dwarf? Honestly! "...decide to dress like a ranger?"
"I like the tights!" Irvine yelled back at Seifer's rapidly diminishing form. "Why do you ask?"
Seifer laughed when another tossed dwarf hit a group of Leonhart's fans, knocking them down like medieval bowling pins. "I just wondered! You would have made a pretty decent knight, you know!" Seifer jumped over the moaning black-clad body of a bruised supporter and disappeared.
Ducking into the trees, Irvine wondered if he should try to find Quistis and let her know that Seifer had just miraculously won the archery contest. Hmm...no. He'd let her see the ribbon around Seifer's arm the next day. That would work out better for both of them.
But, then again...he also needed a smoking partner. Selphie would rather have her moonshine, Squall and Rinoa were wound too tight, and it made Zell too nervous. Irvine laughed. Yeah, he probably would have made a good knight, but then he wouldn't have nearly as many women checking out his ass. It was a tough job, being so damn pretty, but sacrifices had to be made...for the good of mankind, of course. Or would it be for the good of womankind? Tough question. And tough questions needed to be pondered in certain states. Patting his pockets, Irvine extracted his pipe and a small bag. Now that he was knocked out of the competition, he might be able to actually enjoy the rest of the faire. Irvine felt pretty sure that Quistis would be appreciate the company. He had a couple of things he wanted to discuss with her, anyway.
And maybe she could help him figure out if a giant turkey would win against a chocobo. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep until he got the answer for that one. Quistis was always the smart one, after all.