I just want to sleeeeeeeep.
I don't own anything, anyone or anywhere you recognise. Sapphire, along with a few others who'll crop up every now and then, are mine.
What time of day is it, you ask? Does it even matter? Sleep is sleep. And I yawned typing that sentence just thinking about how much I'd like to sleep.
Is this it? Am I...old? (Don't answer that question.) Hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Chapter 8 - Snap
Four days after our late night arrival at the coast, the first boat from the eastern continent docked in Costa del Sol port. Elin retrieved the supplies bound for the engineers at the launch pad, quicker than I had thought possible in his urgency to get back to work. He had spared the time to bid me farewell with a warm hug (perhaps dressed in flip-flops, shorts and a loose buttoned shirt, I cut a less intimidating figure) and took off down the road before I could warn him to take it easy.
Unfortunately for him, he took off so quick that he failed to notice he was missing one Shinra Employee ID card. I felt bad, but I needed it more.
Two days after that, the same ship was set to leave, myself among the couple dozen passengers on board. The butterflies in my stomach were swarming. For every one that was tentatively excited for shortening the distance to my destination, there were six for the anxiety I felt about venturing into the SOLDIER stronghold of Junon.
I hadn't been there before, at least not that I could recall. It would've been nice to be optimistic in my ignorance, but I had overheard too much from the other passengers to be even remotely ignorant of what awaited me in the city. Regular people fussing about papers, rehearsing their reasons for travel, speaking in hushed whispers of stories they'd heard.
They were ordinary people. They had nothing to fear. Where did that leave me?
I just tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. I carried only a rucksack of the few items I had, and wore the rest. I packed a couple changes of clothes that Elin had bought me when we had arrived, and the wallet that had a slightly healthier sum than I was accustomed to (I hadn't been idle all of the time I was in Costa del Sol, making a few thousand gil between odd-jobs and disposing of nuisance critters close to the resort).
The previous night, I had burned my SOLDIER uniform. My brief encounter with Cid had convinced me that keeping it was more trouble than it was worth. Plus, with the much heavier presence of SOLDIER on the eastern continent, the risk felt greater and the reward smaller for using it to impersonate one. Not to mention, if my bag got searched on my arrival in Junon, how would I explain a SOLDIER uniform tucked away, out of sight?
It had seen better days anyway, so I wasn't too broken up over ridding myself of it. The boots, on the other hand…
…So I was tempting fate, I know, but they were tucked away at the bottom of my bag beneath the rest of my clothes. I'm sure I could pass them off as a custom order, or perhaps a lucky find at a thrift store, if push came to shove. I still had my sword from Nibelheim with me - the cheap one that was becoming more of a mace than a sword with how blunt it was getting - so I did have the look of a thrifty nomad at least.
Sunglasses felt like more of a tourist vibe than a nomad one, but with my painfully conspicuous SOLDIER eyes, there wasn't much I could do about that one. But then sunglasses and a hood would look weird, so I'd have to wear a hat to cover up my hair…
That had been another painful loss. After all, I loved my long blue curls, and we had been through so much together. That they didn't all explode out of my helmet and give away my secret identity at all while I was in SOLDIER was a minor miracle in itself. But if Shinra was looking for me, they were a little bit too much of a giveaway.
Not to mention… well. Something I'd been trying to ignore. The reality was, I just couldn't pull off two-toned hair. I didn't have the devil-may-care persona that came with it. Also, I just wasn't a fan. It looked like a bad dye-job.
Yep. It had to go, and in reality, I'd kept it for far too long. And my head felt so light, with over a foot less hair weighing it down. Sure, it sucked that I had gone grey at seventeen, but I'd rock this look. Unfortunately, my hair wasn't long enough now to keep the little strand of beads tied in to one of my curls (not that I remembered their origin, but they were oddly comforting) so I secured them with a piece of string and tied it to the hilt of my sword instead, as a keepsake.
It was hard to pin down how I felt as I watched the strands burn, but I wasn't sad.
And then I felt bad, because as it turns out, burning hair smells absolutely rancid. Could still smell it now, even as I tied up what little amount was long enough to stay up, tied a headband over the roots and back, and pulled a wide brimmed hat over the lot.
It felt very conspicuous, which was kind of the exact opposite of what I was going for, but I had spent so long that morning trying to figure out what was conspicuous and what wasn't that I lost all real understanding of the word.
At the very least I wouldn't be recognised at first glance. And hopefully I wasn't so obviously disguising myself that someone official decided to call me out on it. At the very least, I hadn't spotted anyone really sparing me a second glance, which was no small relief.
Unfortunately, it didn't bring me any peace or settle my nerves any. They tortured me the entire way, the boat ride taking several hours, and predictably just got worse as time wore on. Well. Peace of mind is overrated anyway.
If I had to use an expression for how it felt to approach the city of Junon by boat, it was that we were heading into a den of monsters. Forget warning signs, red flags and the like; we were sailing straight towards a giant cannon aimed at us. At least, it looked giant from miles and miles away. Closer, giant seemed like an insult to just how colossal the weapon was.
Just what was that supposed to be used for? It looked like it would obliterate the entire western continent if it went off. That, or dislodge the eastern continent and send it drifting until it bumped into the far side of the western continent.
There was an unnerved hush that fell over the passengers as, one by one, they noticed the intimidating sight. Companions whispered to one another when they had previously spoken, seeking comfort. Others gazed in silence, their faces stony. I was sure not all of these people were travelling this route for the first time, but I couldn't imagine such a harrowing sight becoming common.
It hit me, for the first time. The magnitude of the task I had assigned for myself. To take down one of the executives of the company that built that?
I bowed my head. My nerves eased off a little, and made room for a desperate hopelessness.
…
Alighting from the boat at Junon was unnervingly anticlimactic.
Maybe the staff who process the new arrivals assume that the cannon is threatening enough, and that if we had anything to declare we would confess just based on the sight of it. Or maybe they were just super busy processing things after the delays caused by the storm that they didn't have the time to scrutinise every passenger and piece of cargo. It certainly seemed busy, masses of people and workers laden down with bags and crates, bumping shoulders with everyone around them. The buzz of activity had me feeling antsy, the sheer volume of overlapping shouts making it difficult to keep my eyes ahead and focus on getting out of the city without drama.
There was one dockworker who seemed to be involved with our arrival, and as we milled off the boat in single-file, he strode past us twice as fast, waving us forward with an urgency that suggested he was not one bit interested in us. He hadn't even looked at me as he blew past. I adjusted my sunglasses, unsure if I really was this fortunate.
I was, as it turned out. From the crowd that bustled along in every direction some metres away, individuals started to emerge and rapidly approach. Our line disbanded as passengers greeted their loved ones, and I joined the bustling mob of people, following a steady flow along the road north out of the city, signposted for Midgar. The first bin I found received Elin's ID card, torn down the middle. Least I could do was ensure no other sneak would get to use it, only me.
Putting aside my newly-invigorated fear of Shinra, I set my sights on travel to Midgar. After all, it was a huge city. If it was so easy to fly under the radar at Junon (granted with no shortage of good fortune), Midgar should be a piece of cake, as long as I kept my distance from the Shinra building. Until such time as I threw caution into the wind and took on my insane mission once again.
Feeling safer out of Junon, I held up an arm to the road from the sidewalk, thumb raised. It was a long way to Midgar.
Not five minutes out of the city, a thunderous sound—
Mechanical roaring, screeching, rattling, grinding—
Weightlessness, the world spinning, being launched from my seat, impact, dark—
The train raced past, a great distance away yet so loud as if I was on it. It only got louder as it disappeared from view, roaring in my ears, deafening.
Orange flickers of fire, black shadows with guns, brown dirt and white snow blurring beneath me, grey sky, red, black, all black—
Heat almost seemed to surround me, producing sweat, and deep in my chest was a burning, a pain—
Screaming, grunting, crying, shouting, a growl "Package retrieved,"—
Nope. That wasn't happening right now. No. That burning was because you're not breathing, so just inhale, inhale, wait no exhale first, exhale, do it, do it.
There. Now in- there you go. Like you've been doing it all your life.
In the length of time it took me to gather my wits, two people had awkwardly shuffled past me with no shortage of staring. I allowed them the privilege of walking past without looking up to meet their eye (mine still hidden by sunglasses) in an attempt make them feel even a fraction as uncomfortable as I felt.
Not that I could blame them. With a sword on my hip and an issue that appeared as though I wasn't in my right mind, in their position I might have seen my way to dodging that bullet.
That thought brought about the realisation that I was unlikely to hitch a lift. Ugh. How far is it to Midgar?
I directed my question to the next person I came across, a youngish man with a tent attached to his backpack and a cheery disposition. "On foot?" he asked, incredulously. "You know there's an overnight train from Junon that'll take you right into Sector One, and it's actually pretty reasonably priced."
"An overnight train?!" I exclaimed, grimacing. I hadn't thought this through. "It didn't look that far on maps…"
He spun his finger in a circle to gesture me to turn, and pointed over my shoulder at the leftmost edge of an impressive rocky mountain range on our left side. It must've spanned dozens of miles along the edge of the continent. "Midgar's on the other side of that lot. There's only one way through the mountains, and that's through Mythril Mine, like one-hundred-and-fifty miles—"
I slammed my hand down on my right hip, where his other hand was creeping its way to a pocket with my wallet inside. I held it steadfast as he tried to pull away, and spun to scowl at him head on. "Really?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow, with an extra squeeze to his digits.
"Gah- alright, sorry! I saw an opportunity, thought you were just some tourist. Man, but that's some grip you got!" He laughed nervously. "I've learned my lesson, alright? Look, I told you what you wanted to know, so can we just part ways already?"
Claiming a more secure grip on his hand, I interrogated, "How else can I get to Midgar without wasting a month of my life?"
He spluttered, "Get a car?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Do I look like I have a lot of money?" I retorted, exaggerating a look down at my pocket for his benefit.
"Steal a car?" he proposed next, which was met with another squeeze. "Ow- well I dunno! Get a bike?"
"Like a bicycle?" I asked for clarification. Not much faster than walking, but it would be a lot less likely to kill me than a vehicle I'd never ridden before. A decent suggestion.
"Uh, sure?" the would-be thief agreed, sounding suspiciously like he was agreeing just to not get his sticky fingers broken.
"Where would I get one?"
"Um," he intoned, and fell silent for a few moments, contemplating. "There's a village maybe twenty miles from here, Odale, it'll be signposted. It might have something. But honestly, I really don't know, I've never had any reason to buy a bike!"
His voice reached a higher pitched, more urgent tone at the end of his pleas, and well past sickened with myself for my actions, I let go of his hand. "Thanks for your help," I murmured, and brushed past him. With accelerated pace, I kept my eyes peeled for any signs. Though it's not like I'd cruise past without seeing anything anyway, I was on foot after all. Walking. For maybe hundreds of miles.
With little else to do, my mind drifted…
…
"That was quite the spectacle, SOLDIER," my tutor mentioned with raised eyebrows and a smirk, getting to his feet to look down his nose at me.
"I'm sure I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as you did," I shot back, deeply frowning.
He pouted, tilting his head. "Why so glum?"
I fixed him with an exasperated look, huffing a breath. "Since when do you ask stupid questions?" I rebuked. I folded my arms defensively, preparing for an angry retort.
Instead, to my surprise, the auburn-haired SOLDIER looked contemplative. "Good point," he conceded, then held a hand out to me, palm to the stark white ceiling. He proposed, "A game, to take your mind off of it?"
"I dunno," I sighed, uncrossing my arms and reaching up to self-consciously play with the choppy ends of my hair. "Maybe you should just compose an entire poem out of Scrabble tiles while I mope."
"We're not playing Scrabble," my tutor denied, stepping to the side and waving behind where he once stood. The same low wooden table, the same dark brown cushions, but sure enough, no board. Instead, two stacks of cards with brightly patterned backs were placed by each seat.
The man circled the table to sit on the opposite side, while I curiously squatted and picked up the first card from the pile, examining it. "Oh, Snap?"
"Yes," he confirmed simply, looking up at me. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but even when he was just agreeing, the man somehow sounded smug. "And you'll be playing first, since you know your first card."
"Snap gets really competitive," I mentioned, hesitant.
"Does it?" the First Class asked, provoking a glare. That was definitely smug. "Then it will do just nicely for this particular task."
I put my hands on my hips, raising my eyebrows. "To distract me from my nearly snapping some guy's fingers?"
He waved to the cushion as an invitation to sit, which I took with reluctance. "Precisely," he concurred, a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Go on, play the card."
"So what's brought this on?" I asked, tossing out the card without care. Play it cool, Amell.
Smirking as he threw his own, he explained, "You didn't seem to enjoy the last round of Scrabble we played. I thought this might be more to your tastes."
"Oh yeah," I recalled, playing another. "Infinite, then mystery. Not only cheating, but all kinds of annoying on top."
"I think you're forgetting where we are." After throwing his second card, he grandly gestured to the white that surrounded us. Taking the opportunity, I threw my next card with haste, hand hovering in anticipation, but nope, different. Typical.
"You're not supposed to draw attention to that," I grumbled, while he played his next. Different. I played mine quickly after. Different.
His. Different. Mine, different.
His, different, mine, different.
The next one took a little longer, so I looked up (noticing I had hunched over the table) at the redhead, who had his hand over his deck. He was smirking again. "You got invested very quickly. This should be entertaining," he teased, elegant gloved fingers dancing over the stack of cards a few moments longer, before adding it to the pile, only removing his hand to reveal the card once it rested.
Sa— no, same colour, but different. I glared at him, my hand suspended halfway to slamming onto the stack, as he chuckled. "I don't like this game," I griped, throwing my next card with a pout. Different.
"Neither do I," he complained, though his smile as he took his time drawing his card said the opposite.
"Sure you don't," I muttered, fixated on his hand. After all, if I looked away and that hand played a card the same as I had, I needed to be ready to pounce and get in before it did. I just had to count on his reaction time being just a hair slower while his hand hovered above as he processed that it needed to slam down onto the table.
And it would slam down, with force, I'd bet. Flatten my fingers, leave the back of my hand tingling, but it'd be worth it if I got in ahead. If not, then my hand would just limply fall on his, and no one wanted that—
Oh. Wait, I forgot this game required touch. And sure, maybe he was fine with touching me, even teasing once or twice, but me? Putting my hand down onto his? How would that play out?
Probably just crack a joke at my expense, either due to losing the cards or being too slow or whatever. Probably. And I'd play at annoyance, maybe glare at him, maybe huff or roll my eyes or accuse him of cheating.
But could I look at him, with my hand over his? Would that be weird? How soon should I withdraw my hand? Would it be insulting to recoil too quick, or weird to linger too long?
"And I thought Scrabble required a lot of thinking," my opponent jibed, snapping me out of my trance. "I didn't realise Snap would be so intellectually stimulating for you as well."
I carefully placed my next card, scowling at him as I did so. "I was just thinking, and realised you've got an unfair advantage at this game too."
"Oh?" Next card tossed. "Do tell."
"Reaction time," I supplied, adding mine to the pile. "Since you're a First Class SOLDIER, you'll react before I can even see what the card is. Or something."
My old tutor didn't look too impressed, raising his eyebrows as he played another card. My arm tensed, ready to spring, but it was a pair of one I had thrown out two turns prior. He didn't seem to react at all, I noticed with bitterness, as I tossed another. "You are aware that SOLDIERs receive the same treatment and have the same enhancements, regardless of what rank they are?"
I tilted my head, only letting my eyes rise to him after assuring myself that his card wasn't a match to mine. "But then what makes you better?" I asked.
His lips tilted upwards in the corner, tilting his head to see me with both eyes - that fringe of his always seemed to be in the way. "I suppose it could be any of a number of things. How is anyone better at anything than anyone else?"
I frowned. "Uh… practice?" I guessed. Was that a rhetorical question? Was this a lesson?
He huffed a breath of laughter, returning his eyes to the table. Something changed in his demeanour, and suddenly the air between us became sombre, though his smirk remained on his face. "Perhaps," was his noncommittal response, "or maybe they were born that way."
The game continued then in uncomfortable silence, with the redhead uneasy and melancholy, and myself struggling to understand the meaning behind his turn of mood. Eventually it ended with not a single matched card, and he bid me farewell with that same weak smirk. My heart ached.
…
With the boat journey having ate up several daylight hours, the sun set over the sign by the road that indicated the village of Odale was still five miles away. The road was still fairly busy, a pair of headlights every minute if not more frequently, and being a main road it was well lit. I decided to continue, in the hopes that the village might have a hotel or somewhere that I could get a room to sleep in for a few hours when I arrived.
Plus, it was a beautiful night. A few wispy clouds almost seemed to make the moon shine brighter, and the stars were out in abundance. For the third time, my foot caught the corner of the curb, and I skipped back to the middle of the sidewalk before tilting my chin back once again to gawk at the stars, never learning my lesson. Some sights were worth the risk.
Eventually I came to the turnoff for the village, and walked for another mile on a much rougher stretch of road. Thanking my lucky stars (har har) for meeting no traffic on the unlit, tree-bounded road, I huffed a speculative breath as I examined my destination.
It was… smaller than expected. And more rural. Something as niche as a bike shop would not exist here. They might have a garage, but it was a long shot. If they did, they'd probably only service pick-up trucks, and tractors.
I may not have been robbed, but I'd been hoodwinked. Though I suppose my request had been a little too specific.
What was worse, there were no lights on. And no building that I could see that would let out rooms. Not quite the tourist destination that I'd started the day in, that was for sure.
Perplexed, I jogged into the centre of the village and down a couple streets only as far as the buildings started looking residential. No lights, no sound, no nothing. It was eerie. And I was left absolutely stumped, because I'd come all this way deliberately to get a decent night's sleep, and now I'd have to pitch my tent and sleep in it anyway. Would sleep under the stars but if I slept in late (unlikely, but it was fairly late in the night already) I didn't want a village full of country folk staring at me while I slept.
As for where… probably inside the village border, but only just. Less likely to be bothered by pests closer to civilisation.
Just a few trees into the treeline around the village, I set up my tent and fell asleep very quickly, despite the rough bed of tree roots and stones. I woke up a few hours later, out of a fitful dreamless sleep, to a sound that I recognised despite having never heard it in person.
My legs turned to jelly beneath me, as I sprung up to a seat and looked in the direction it came from. I was in trouble. I needed to do something. I needed to get out of here. Would I be pursued? Should I not move, lie back down, play dead?
The sound repeated itself, along with a voice, demanding, "You wanna come out and show your face, stranger?"
Without any alternative, I attached my sword to my hip and crawled out from my tent, with one hand raised as a gesture of my surrender. I slowly rose to my feet, looking directly at the man who had addressed me, who wore a cowboy hat and other assorted cowboy gear; I could only assume he was a nine-year-old boy, though I hadn't seen such an impressive beard on anyone under twenty-five. I tried not to cringe as I greeted him, "Morning. I hope I didn't disrupt anyone, I arrived pretty late. Didn't seem like anywhere was open that'd have a spare bed."
"We don't usually get tourists, if that's what you are. And never late at night," he agreed. I was grateful for that, even if what he said was pretty obvious. "Where'd you come from, then? And why're you here?"
His tone was friendly, even if the multiple questions he asked seemed a little… interrogationey. I shuffled on my feet, trying hard not to appear uncomfortable, while putting on my cheery tourist tone. "Originally from a small town on the western continent, decided I wanted to see the world. Just arrived into Junon yesterday. Was hoping I could find a way to travel that'd let me see the sights, just on a small town budget."
That sound again, and the local smiled widely, spreading his arms. "Well then you've come to the right place, stranger! No better way to get to know the terrain than on the back of your chocobo!" As if knowing it was being talked about (hardly likely, bird brain and all) the man's steed reared its head, flapped its wings and warked cheerfully.
Ugh. This was so not what I had in mind.
Seeing that I was… dazzled, maybe, the man laughed again. "You'll see what I mean when we catch you your own."
Catch? We were catching them now? "Not that I'm not grateful, I am, but I don't really think I'm cut out for that," I tried to explain, biting my lip. I really hoped it wasn't rude to turn him down over this. Small town folks were far too nice.
"You afraid or somethin'?" he quizzed me, leaping the dizzying distance from the bird's back to the ground. Swallowing my pride, I reluctantly nodded. The bright grin that followed did not fill me with confidence. "Well then let's get you past that fear! People are far more dangerous 'n chocobos! So let's go." He, and under his guidance the chocobo, turned and began to march back towards the village.
Didn't say I wasn't afraid of people though, did I? But I couldn't say that because that'd make me sound like the nutcase. Officially out of ways to back out, I lumbered after the bird's huge fluffy yellow butt, my mind conjuring all sorts of scenarios for how poorly this particular adventure could go.
Cute wild animals and I hadn't meshed well together in the past, and I held little hope for this instance being any better, given that these animals were a lot bigger than the last ones I had sparred with. And I lost last time. To littler creatures. Monsters. Hellspawn.
I followed the duo through town, blissfully quiet since dawn was only just breaking, and to the outskirts on the opposite side of the village. His tiny little ramshackle house stood next to a dozen chocobo stalls that looked to be in far better condition, all in front of an expanse of rolling hills and trees. As someone who grew up in a small town not unlike Odale and loved every minute, this kind of lifestyle was so far away from even my tastes.
The commotion from those stables at the sight of their owner bringing back fresh meat sent a cold, tingling shiver down my spine.
"Wild chocobo roam the plains a mile or two south of here. We can do a little lap on my grounds first if you wanna get accustomed to riding, the birds here are well broken in. The one we rope in for you will be a little more lively though, so it'll be a couple days work until you're both inseparable!"
Closing my mouth from when it had fallen open midway through his insane rant, I opened it again to comment, "Everything you said just now makes me want to run, and run far." Apparently that was a funny thing to say, as the man threw back his head and belly-laughed, but I wasn't quite sure how.
"And you from a small town? Must be in the rear end of nowhere if it ain't even got chocobos!" he exclaimed, prompting a look of sheer bewilderment from me.
"Is that supposed to be ironic?" My genuine enquiry was met with another guffaw. Seriously, was this guy just screwing with me now? His chocobo's head snaked towards me, beak primed to tear at my unprotected flesh, so I leapt out of its reach. The lunatic as good as fell on his own rear end in his hysterics.
"What's all that noise?" came the no-nonsense tone of a woman, who burst out of the small house a moment later. A woman more sensibly dressed in loose and comfy-looking clothing, in her thirties at a guess, so I assumed she was the nine-year-old's mother. She looked between us for a moment, the man just recovering from his giggles and myself a wary few feet from him, trying valiantly not to glare at the bird. "Welcome to the ranch, there, stranger! Hope my husband hasn't startled you."
Husband, huh? Well, live and learn. Something caught my attention about her, distracting me from my nerves while I attempted to figure out what it was. "Nothing I won't recover from," I returned warmly, put at ease by… whatever it was.
"Hey, why would I have startled her?" the chocobo rider protested, approaching his wife and embracing her. My eyes darted back to the chocobo, daring it to move one inch in my direction, but it just followed after its owner. My eyes caught on the woman again. I admired her hair, a long plait of silky black that tapered off at the hip. I reached over my shoulder to the scraggly ends of my freshly cut hair at the back of my neck, lamenting my loss.
They separated, and the woman reached a hand out to me. "Meryl," she introduced herself, giving my hand a gentle shake before gesturing to her husband, who took my hand and shook it firmly, "and Digo."
How did she know he hadn't introduced himself? "Call me Mell," I offered another alias, starting to lose track of how many names I had gone by in the last year. Meryl offered me a beaming smile, a contagious one.
"Snap! That'll be an easy one to remember. So close to my own!" With a light and soothing laugh, she looked to Digo, then back to me. "Will you be staying a while?"
I hummed noncommittally, turning to Digo. "She wants her own chocobo, for travelling the country. She'll stay with someone in town until I get her set up."
"Who?" Meryl asked, sounding innocent but somehow seeming not to be.
Digo stammered for a moment, before bowing his head, sighing. A moment later, he looked at me, something stern yet pleading in his expression. "Mell, I'll ask around town if anyone can offer you a room. I'm happy to help you get a chocobo but you will not be staying here. That much is out of the question."
"Digo!" Meryl gasped, slapping his chest. "That's so rude!"
I wasn't sure how I came to the realisation, but I examined Digo's resolute expression, and accepted with a slow nod. He was a joker, and seemed eager to go above and beyond just because he could, which I appreciated. But he was a husband, and a future father, and he wasn't going to put his family in any sort of danger. There was no offense to be taken there.
"I'm more than used to sleeping rough," I reassured him, though I was quite sure it wasn't needed, his conscience would be clear regardless. "In fact, I prefer it. Sleeping indoors has a rubbish view."
"That's one way of looking at it!" Meryl smoothed over the interaction with a laugh. "Sorry about that. He's protective."
Digo huffed, "Not like we have the space to spare, regardless." I had to agree with him on that point, but it'd probably be rude to say so, so I kept quiet. "You wanna come with? Can do the rounds, introduce you to some prospective landlords," he offered, petting the beast that had head-butted him, aggressively demanding his attention.
I shook my head, to his surprise. "I'd prefer to sleep outside. I wasn't kidding before," I explained with a smile.
The couple looked at each other, an entire silent interaction happening in that one look that was lost on me. "Well that speeds things up!" Digo declared in satisfaction, grabbing the reins of his chocobo and giving Meryl a kiss on the forehead before waving me to follow. "We can start on your riding lessons straight away, then!"
Instant regret. I spared Meryl a desperate glance, which she laughed off (was she always laughing?) while taking my arm in hers and pulling me along in pursuit of her husband. "I'm coming with. Digo teaching a newbie how to ride a chocobo is… something I have a vested interest in watching," she explained, her voice dancing with giddy humour. "I swear, it's not just because it'll be funny."
"You two are just the best," I retorted sarcastically with a pout. Though in actuality, I was grateful for their friendliness, and their eagerness to help.
Meryl simply winked at me in response, and gave my arm a squeeze, held captive in her own.
I hummed contemplatively a minute later. "Digo didn't mention a price, for the lessons or…" everything else. The several things he was doing for me, having just met me. Was I just outrageously lucky or was everyone in small towns just the extra mile sort?
The woman let go to spin a little pirouette in front of me, her dark plait spinning prettily with her. I was getting serious hair envy, if that was a thing. Again I found myself tugging at the tips of my hair, as if that might encourage it to grow faster. "I'm sure he'd do it for free, you know? He might seem a little gruff at times but the chocobos are his life, he just loves spending time with them no matter what he's doing."
My eyebrows raised, I laughed in surprise before disagreeing, "Aren't they his livelihood too? Seems like this'll take a while, I'm not just taking that for free."
"I'm sure I could talk him into a discount for you!" Meryl offered excitably, her hands under her chin. She was still walking backwards in front of me, forcing me to keep a wary eye on her feet and take short strides to be ready to launch forward without delay if she tripped.
I shook my head with a chuckle, "Aren't they your livelihood too? Why do you wanna make less gil?"
Meryl frowned, before shrugging. "I have all I need," she answered plainly.
My jaw dropped a little. I had more reason to be envious of this woman than just her hair. Because, if I was honest, I just wanted to have my own little world that ran independently from anyone I didn't let in. A world that was sustainable, without depending on the kindness of strangers, a place where I knew exactly who I was and who I had been.
But before Meryl had a cosy little home and the peace of mind to cosy up to strangers with swords, she'd had her own adventure. She had to build it up, she'd faced challenges, and look at what she'd done with it. I was just a little behind her. I had my adventure, my struggles, and once they were done, I'd have my life.
Midgar first. That was my challenge. Before I made my own little life, I needed to see to it that no one else would have theirs taken from them the same way mine had been.
And before that, apparently, I needed to learn how to ride a chocobo. Oh boy.