Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: This is, in part, for Aozorain, who wondered about how Kefka began wearing the makeup. I suppose it's my own twisted interpretation of it, so I hope you enjoy one of the many different ideas I had.

Prompt 009

Beginning

An eleven-year old Terra sat on a stool, gentle gaze carefully browsing the small pots and jars lain out before her on the vanity. She looked very serious about her choices, and Kefka inwardly wondered what he'd signed himself up for.

Gestahl had wanted to throw some stupid and elaborate costume party for his birthday. Kefka didn't know how old the man was, but he certainly didn't believe whatever number he'd been told, and furthermore he saw no reason to stop what he'd been working on to attend an idiotic party. That was, of course, until Terra caught wind of it.

"A masquerade?" she'd squawked.

That was all the encouragement it had taken her. What could he expect, though, really? She may have been a magnificent creature of myth and modern-day wonder, but she was still a girl (she'd never not be girlish, even if she cut her hair off and donned men's clothing) and she was still a child in many ways. She had begun to brainstorm about all of the possible things they could be, and that had been Kefka's last protest about the attendance of the party.

"I hate to interrupt, but do you think you could tell me what it is you're doing?" he asked. She was facing him, face twisted into a very stern expression, a particular jar raised as her fingers swiped into its contents.

"No," she replied. She reached out and globbed something on his face. "It's a surprise."

"Terra, how am I supposed to know what to wear if you won't tell me what I'm going to be?" he protested. Something inside him, very quietly, demanded to know why she always had control of the situation when she was just a child and half his size. He brushed the thoughts off as nothing, though it did bother him that he ever thought like that at all to begin with. He gave Terra the reigns to do whatever she pleased, and she regarded that carefully despite only still being a child. She was wise beyond her years.

"Oops," he heard her say. He regretted his last sentiment as he watched her look down at her smock, where she'd dumped glitter on herself. His floor had also fallen victim.

"Great. It's going to look like a pixie threw up in here," he remarked, though his tone lacked any bitterness.

"Sorry," she said, cheeks flushing with a hint of colour. "But it was a necessary sacrifice," she informed him. "Glitter was getting' too close to my other stuff. Wouldn't wait its turn. Had to go." She nodded.

He had gawked at her reasoning; she was applying things she'd heard him say about incredibly brutal skirmishes to her child's play. He didn't know whether to shake her or hug her, but at the moment he couldn't do either or else she'd say he was "disrupting her work" and this ordeal would begin again, as it had twice now. He had no idea face-painting was such an involved process.

"Hmmmmmm... I don't know if I like this," she said after a long span of silence. She'd switched between her hands and had moved on to a brush that tickled him and made his face twitch, but he'd endured because he'd promised. Terra would be utterly unmanageable if he'd tried to go back on his word, as he had seen once when she was four and he'd attempted to leave for a few days before having "tea" with her.

"Well, you tried," he said, thankful that it was over. "I can wash it off and then we can go."

"Hold it!" she said, pointing the brush at his face in a menacing manner. "Not so fast. I have an idea." She narrowed her eyes at him, and then grabbed a tube of lipstick from the stash on the counter. He grimaced. She was going to cross-dress him. He should have known. He'd gone this far without having to be subject to one of those puffy dresses, it should only be fair that now he'd be stuck wearing one. At least he wouldn't be alone – most of the men who were attending had no ideas for costumes and so he deeply suspected the party would be very curiously ambiguous.

She dabbed it on his mouth first, and then dragged it to the left and to the right. She seemed proud of herself for a moment, and then made a horrible face. "I think I did too well," she said slowly, her hand to her chin, wiping red and white onto her face by accident.

"Why? Can I see now?" he asked, trying to crane his head around so he could see the mirror. She'd made him sit with his back to it, and she had been careful not to get up so he couldn't peek, either.

"I think I made you too scary and not so funny," she trailed, letting him see himself.

"Good god, Terra! I thought you hated clowns!" he exclaimed, shocked. She'd done a very good job of thoroughly coating his face in that stuff (he prayed he wasn't going to have an allergic reaction to it) but it was too good a job. He didn't look like a silly, fun clown. He looked like he wanted to killmurderkill, in that order.

"I think it's the smile," she said, teeth bared in a sneer-smile at her work. "I think I went too far."

He looked like a slasher victim. He kind of liked it. It appealed to his darker sense of humour, actually, quite a bit. Clowns were supposed to be funny, right? Nobody ever expected one to be a serial killer. He leaned closer and examined his face, turning his head left and right. The smile definitely did it.

"Do you want to start over?" he asked. "We still have time."

"No," she said honestly. "Too scary is okay for this, I think." She was still looking at him with that expression on her face, the what-did-I-create stare.

"If it really bothers you, I'll wash it off," he offered. He still had no idea what he was going to wear, so going as a psychotic killer clown (maybe even from outer space, if he played his cards right) wasn't something he was totally committed to.

She grinned, crossing her arms. She still had that paint on her own face, and she looked adorable. Of course, she didn't have to try hard for that. "No, it's fine. Besides, I still know it's you in there," she said with a 'duh' tone to her voice. "You look freaky, but you're still my Kefka. As long as I know that, I'm not gonna get scared."

"Not even a little?" he asked. He lunged for her, and Terra let out a shrill shriek as she tried to dart away, laughing madly. In the end, Terra had managed to evade him long enough to find him the rest of his costume (a colourful number that she said made him look like a 'scary rainbow'). Terra went as (what else) a princess, and the duo had much fun and adventure and the night turned out to be mostly tolerable, especially when Terra convinced him to dance.

He had no idea how important her words had been, then or ever; it was like she knew, on some level, that she would lose him. He didn't consider it until much later, when she was already scared and he was no longer hers.