[FF Tactics] Meme archive - six ficlets
Oct. 29th, 2008 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runiclorePrepare for a bit of spam. I'm going to post the meme archives as I finish them, so apologies in advance. It'll be quick.
Prompt: 23 - Swimming-In-The-Buff Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reynardfox
Words: 379
..........................................
They call it a creek. Agrias clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering and sloshed into the shallows. Finnath was no creek, thank you, and it froze the blood in her legs. Bits of ice pricked her calves. Alkoun waded behind her, dipping his beak into the swirling foam, and behind her Rafa squeaked and slipped into the water with a splash. Agrias rolled her eyes and waded back to where the sky knight had surfaced, lips blue and shivering.
"Mind the rocks," she repeated, a good deal more calmly than she would have liked, and hauled the girl out by the arm.
"I was careful," Rafa gasped, clinging to regain warmth. "It rolled right out from under me--"
"Aye, of course." Agrias pulled away, twisted her arms out of the other girl's grasp, and crouched in the water to wet her hair. Chocobo blood caked her braids and fingernails, dried hard since the battle and impossible to get loose without a good soak. But of course they couldn't risk a fire. "Wash as quickly as you can, or we'll both freeze."
Damned birds. The water turned a murky red around her thighs and swept away in streaks. She scrubbed her skin clean, worked her braids loose when they were good and soaked, and wondered if her teeth were chattering as loudly as Rafa's - enough to wake the dead. Agrias wondered, for just a moment, how she would fight an undead chocobo in just her skin, and shuddered - from the cold. A good battle might start her blood moving again.
Rafa edged closer to her again, glancing at the shore, then at Agrias, who sighed. "What--"
"Someone is back there, in the bushes," the sky knight said, rubbing her arms. The gesture didn't appear to make her any warmer. "Another chocobo?"
"Unlikely," Agrias muttered, trying to look back through her tangled, blood-soaked hair. A bird would have attacked; at the very least the beasts were straightforward, and would not think to hide. And yet, a flash of yellow-- Agrias faced forward, lips thinning. That little-- She stood, braced against the current. "Alkoun!" she called, and pointed to the bush. "Go!"
She'd have given a great deal to see Mustadio's face, but Alkoun was in the way. Alas. Agrias nudged Rafa aside and continued washing.
..........................................
.
Prompt: 10 - Dancing Character
Character: Ovelia
Requested by:seta_suzume
Words: 338
..........................................
The sun slanted between the columns at a sharp angle, and Ovelia led her friend through the steps of the only court dance she knew, counting out time to make up for the lack of music. Their hard leather heels clicked on the stone floor in unison. Even reed pipes were forbidden behind monastery walls; if one wished to praise God through music, doctrine said, one should lift the voice in song rather than rely on instruments made by another's hand. Music for pleasure was simply out of the question. She couldn't remember the last time she heard a flute, or a violin.
Alma tripped over her hem on the next turn, catching herself just before she stumbled and grasping Ovelia's forearm tightly. "Sorry. I'd thought we were done with that step."
Ovelia shook her head, releasing the other's hand when she'd steadied. "Your attention wandered. I watched your eyes move to the window no less than three times."
The other girl bit her lip, and her head turned a hair in the direction of the windows before she realized and faced forward again. Her fingers wove together. "They said mid-morning. They're never late."
Ovelia reached for Alma's hands and squeezed them, glancing at the windows. It was mid-afternoon, nearing evening, and they'd heard nothing from the Beoulve party since the night before. She had no doubt they were caught up in a simple delay; the brothers were accomplished warriors one and all, or so she was led to believe. A bandit - even a group of bandits, a regiment - would be hard-pressed to prevail against any of them. Her friend was fortunate to have such distinguished siblings. Moreso because they cared, because the middle brother made this journey to see Alma home for Yuletide when the family could have sent retainers.
What would Yuletide bring to court this year? Ovelia wondered. An exotic show of fireworks, a new dance, a new composition? Brother Simon would surely tell her about it.
"Come," she said, releasing Alma's hands. "Why don't we try again?"
..........................................
.
Prompt: 26 - Exhausted Character
Character: Delita
Requested by:oniric_angel
Words: 361
..........................................
The bedroom was dark, and Delita unbuckled his gloves by feel and memory, then the braces, then his boots and greaves, leaving them atop their chest to be polished later. A candle stub burned by the mirror. The flame swayed, and Ovelia's figure under the blankets, visible in the glass, looked for a moment as if it moved. He paused, watching her over his shoulder - her back, the shift of her legs, the curve of her hip - but it was just an illusion. She breathed deeply and evenly, and her golden hair spilled over the edge of the mattress in streaks that glinted in the candlelight.
He was expected hours earlier; if Ovelia were awake, he would have bent knee to apologize, though he'd not done so since the wedding. Her letters to the front were many and worried. Beneath the fold of the quilt, the embroidered collar of her court dress was visible round her shoulder, and the hem of the skirt they called the mantle of lions in jest, embroidered in gold with stylized lions marching in step, peeked out from under the duvet.
Delita went back to his task, fumbling with the buckles of his knee guards. It was testament to the length of his day when he dropped one and let it clatter on the stone floor, and he couldn't be bothered to follow its passage under the wardrobe. He straightened and sighed, the other guard dangling from his fingers. His wife's reflection did not stir. He wished it would, but laid the guard on the trunk as quietly as he had the others. If she'd awaken - he would pause to help her undress, and perhaps he was too tired for more, but he would have had the satisfaction of seeing her smile, and felt her soft white arms wrap around his neck to welcome him home.
When he'd rid himself of the armor he joined her in bed, half-dressed as she was, and his eyes drifted closed. For once he didn't dream of Tietra or Ramza, but of Ovelia before her crowning, holding a strip of grass to her lips and trying to make a sound.
..........................................
.
Prompt: 02 - Happy Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:reynardfox
Words: 435
..........................................
Agrias knew the tread of each of her allies by heart. Ramza's steps were firm, even, and heavy because he could no longer afford to remove his armor, even to rest; Rafa's came with the slap of sandals against her bare heels, light and scuffling; Mustadio's could only be called careless, uneven, and he gave himself away with the clank of his gun, of spare bullets, and the pouch of tools he never seemed to remove from his belt. She was tending the night's stew - more a porridge, of boiled rice and bits of venison - and heard his approach over the snapping of the fire.
"Agrias!" Something metallic dug into the dirt beside her, and she prayed it was not what she thought. "Can it sit for a minute?"
She straightened, leaving the ladle resting on a flat rock, and glanced over her shoulder. "Surely you jest."
"Nothing funny about it." Mustadio dropped onto the log beside her and dragged the accursed creation around the end, propping it against his knee. "You did say--"
"--'Give me a gun with a blade and we will discuss the merits of firearms.' Yes. I recall." That conversation must have taken place before she knew of Bunansa's delusions of granduer. He was a fair hand with seige machines when they had need of such equipment, and he managed to rig armor for special missions on occasion, all thanks to his skill in engineering. When it came to inventions, however-- "You're welcome to try it - over there," she said, pointing to the clearing to their left, "where you will not set anything important on fire."
Mustadio frowned. "That was an accident."
Agrias snorted. "Of course." The gunblade - ridiculous name - was a flat, mirror-like plane of a blade, bevelled at the edges, and she knew by the glint it was sharpened. The hilt, though, looked awkward; it slanted like the handle of a gun and looked too light, and the barrels, while they might add necessary weight, would only throw the thing off balance. "Do you mean to tell me this thing will actually fire without singing its own blade?" She reached over and seized the handle. It was light as she thought; the blade would be unweildly at best.
"It fires." Mustadio propped his elbows on his knees and tossed a twig into the fire. "As for the blade..."
"Unusable."
"Then tell me how to make it usable. I'll bet you ten gold I can do it."
Agrias sank the blade back into the dirt. "Idiot."
He grinned, showing teeth. "I have the capital. You?"
Her lips thinned. She was a knight, not a vagrant. "Two days."
"Deal."
..........................................
.
Prompt: 13 - Caring Character
Character: Ovelia
Requested by:reynardfox
Words: 390
..........................................
"Hold still, or I might catch your skin," Ovelia said, holding her knight's arm in one hand, bandage pinned in place with her thumb. She dipped the needle with the other, catching the next layer of linen and stitching top layer to bottom. Sewing was one of the few things she could manage wtih skill, relative to the others. Noblewomen were supposed to be adept at needlework - thus, it appeared on her cirruculum at the monastery.
Agrias nodded, her pale hair backlit by a gap in the pines beyond, appearing to be gold in truth where the wisps drifted loose from her braids. "Your kindness is appreciated," she said softly, her eyes carefully averted. Ramza and Lavian discussed their route to Lionel at the edge of their camp site, and the chocobos picked around the field past the trees, rustling the high grass and snapping their beaks. "I--" Agrias's mouth worked. "I am obligated to remind you, however--"
"That I should not dirty my hands with this common task? Yes, I know." Ovelia knotted the thread twice and cut it close to the fabric with a small knife. Then she helped Agrias fit her vambrace over the bandage. It glared between the buckles, showed near the elbow where the plate didn't reach. "If I allow another to care for you, I can't be sure of your health. At the least, if I do this now, I can watch you raise arms and know better."
She fit the knife and thread into their leather case, and worked the needle into its tiny pincushion. When they left Orbonne she'd thought it useless to pack; at home she would have access needles, threads in silk and cotton, linen, and so many different colors one's head could spin. She would have real scissors and fine fabric for her embroidery. She'd imagined it when stitching the simple homespun robes of monks and her own plain dresses.
To think such a small thing would prove useful after all - perhaps it was a metaphor.
"Please forgive me," Ovelia said when she'd secured the case and tucked it into her travel bag. "The others have suffered worse injury, but I find myself worried even when you've only been scratched." She smiled and fiddled with her braid. "I'll try not to worry so much as long as you promise to take care."
..........................................
.
Prompt: 25 - Disheveled Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:reynardfox
Words: 385
..........................................
Though Agrias was loathe to put her trust in Riovannes for anything after the battle was finally over, she collapsed with the others when Ramza declared the place safe - or empty, at least, for the time being - and told their comrades to find shelter in the ballroom, where they might all fit without complications. They took their mounts; she found the idea of the birds dirtying the church's fine treasures and rugs tolerable, if not pleasant.
She bedded down in the far corner, away from the windows, and used her folded coat as a pillow, though it wasn't soft enough to make a difference. The marble floor made a cold bed, and her cloak, though lined in dark fur, was just short enough to leave some part of her bare to the chill of the air. The others had similar problems by the sound of it; she heard armor clank and scrape the floor, chain mail jingle, and shoes scuff as people turned, lay flat, or abandoned sleep altogether and left the room to supplement the guard. Chocobos snuffled on the other side of the room, their clawed feet clicking with every step.
Agrias had just drifted into a half-sleep when a blast of moist air to her face jolted her awake. "Wha--" She sat up quickly, found herself face-to-face with Alkoun, and jerked back with a curse. He snapped at the air over her ear. No. Go! she whispered, shoving his beak away. Bloody bird, get over there were you belong! Alkoun warked softly and nudged her hair. What. What do you want? The twins stirred, wedged into the space between a column and the wall not three meters away; Malach's eyes glinted, and Rafa muttered in her sleep.
She glared at her chocobo. Well?
Alkoun snapped his beak again. Snap, snap, sn--
Oh. Agrias's lips thinned, and she grabbed a tuft of his feathers to haul herself to her feet. She'd forgotten to feed him. Of course. Idiot, she muttered, and wasn't quite sure if she referred to herself or the bird. Couldn't he have chewed his way through the grain pouch?
She sighed. Ah well. It wasn't as if she'd slept well anyway.
..........................................
.
Prompt: 23 - Swimming-In-The-Buff Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:
reynardfoxWords: 379
..........................................
They call it a creek. Agrias clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering and sloshed into the shallows. Finnath was no creek, thank you, and it froze the blood in her legs. Bits of ice pricked her calves. Alkoun waded behind her, dipping his beak into the swirling foam, and behind her Rafa squeaked and slipped into the water with a splash. Agrias rolled her eyes and waded back to where the sky knight had surfaced, lips blue and shivering.
"Mind the rocks," she repeated, a good deal more calmly than she would have liked, and hauled the girl out by the arm.
"I was careful," Rafa gasped, clinging to regain warmth. "It rolled right out from under me--"
"Aye, of course." Agrias pulled away, twisted her arms out of the other girl's grasp, and crouched in the water to wet her hair. Chocobo blood caked her braids and fingernails, dried hard since the battle and impossible to get loose without a good soak. But of course they couldn't risk a fire. "Wash as quickly as you can, or we'll both freeze."
Damned birds. The water turned a murky red around her thighs and swept away in streaks. She scrubbed her skin clean, worked her braids loose when they were good and soaked, and wondered if her teeth were chattering as loudly as Rafa's - enough to wake the dead. Agrias wondered, for just a moment, how she would fight an undead chocobo in just her skin, and shuddered - from the cold. A good battle might start her blood moving again.
Rafa edged closer to her again, glancing at the shore, then at Agrias, who sighed. "What--"
"Someone is back there, in the bushes," the sky knight said, rubbing her arms. The gesture didn't appear to make her any warmer. "Another chocobo?"
"Unlikely," Agrias muttered, trying to look back through her tangled, blood-soaked hair. A bird would have attacked; at the very least the beasts were straightforward, and would not think to hide. And yet, a flash of yellow-- Agrias faced forward, lips thinning. That little-- She stood, braced against the current. "Alkoun!" she called, and pointed to the bush. "Go!"
She'd have given a great deal to see Mustadio's face, but Alkoun was in the way. Alas. Agrias nudged Rafa aside and continued washing.
..........................................
.
Prompt: 10 - Dancing Character
Character: Ovelia
Requested by:
seta_suzumeWords: 338
..........................................
The sun slanted between the columns at a sharp angle, and Ovelia led her friend through the steps of the only court dance she knew, counting out time to make up for the lack of music. Their hard leather heels clicked on the stone floor in unison. Even reed pipes were forbidden behind monastery walls; if one wished to praise God through music, doctrine said, one should lift the voice in song rather than rely on instruments made by another's hand. Music for pleasure was simply out of the question. She couldn't remember the last time she heard a flute, or a violin.
Alma tripped over her hem on the next turn, catching herself just before she stumbled and grasping Ovelia's forearm tightly. "Sorry. I'd thought we were done with that step."
Ovelia shook her head, releasing the other's hand when she'd steadied. "Your attention wandered. I watched your eyes move to the window no less than three times."
The other girl bit her lip, and her head turned a hair in the direction of the windows before she realized and faced forward again. Her fingers wove together. "They said mid-morning. They're never late."
Ovelia reached for Alma's hands and squeezed them, glancing at the windows. It was mid-afternoon, nearing evening, and they'd heard nothing from the Beoulve party since the night before. She had no doubt they were caught up in a simple delay; the brothers were accomplished warriors one and all, or so she was led to believe. A bandit - even a group of bandits, a regiment - would be hard-pressed to prevail against any of them. Her friend was fortunate to have such distinguished siblings. Moreso because they cared, because the middle brother made this journey to see Alma home for Yuletide when the family could have sent retainers.
What would Yuletide bring to court this year? Ovelia wondered. An exotic show of fireworks, a new dance, a new composition? Brother Simon would surely tell her about it.
"Come," she said, releasing Alma's hands. "Why don't we try again?"
..........................................
.
Prompt: 26 - Exhausted Character
Character: Delita
Requested by:
oniric_angelWords: 361
..........................................
The bedroom was dark, and Delita unbuckled his gloves by feel and memory, then the braces, then his boots and greaves, leaving them atop their chest to be polished later. A candle stub burned by the mirror. The flame swayed, and Ovelia's figure under the blankets, visible in the glass, looked for a moment as if it moved. He paused, watching her over his shoulder - her back, the shift of her legs, the curve of her hip - but it was just an illusion. She breathed deeply and evenly, and her golden hair spilled over the edge of the mattress in streaks that glinted in the candlelight.
He was expected hours earlier; if Ovelia were awake, he would have bent knee to apologize, though he'd not done so since the wedding. Her letters to the front were many and worried. Beneath the fold of the quilt, the embroidered collar of her court dress was visible round her shoulder, and the hem of the skirt they called the mantle of lions in jest, embroidered in gold with stylized lions marching in step, peeked out from under the duvet.
Delita went back to his task, fumbling with the buckles of his knee guards. It was testament to the length of his day when he dropped one and let it clatter on the stone floor, and he couldn't be bothered to follow its passage under the wardrobe. He straightened and sighed, the other guard dangling from his fingers. His wife's reflection did not stir. He wished it would, but laid the guard on the trunk as quietly as he had the others. If she'd awaken - he would pause to help her undress, and perhaps he was too tired for more, but he would have had the satisfaction of seeing her smile, and felt her soft white arms wrap around his neck to welcome him home.
When he'd rid himself of the armor he joined her in bed, half-dressed as she was, and his eyes drifted closed. For once he didn't dream of Tietra or Ramza, but of Ovelia before her crowning, holding a strip of grass to her lips and trying to make a sound.
..........................................
.
Prompt: 02 - Happy Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:
reynardfoxWords: 435
..........................................
Agrias knew the tread of each of her allies by heart. Ramza's steps were firm, even, and heavy because he could no longer afford to remove his armor, even to rest; Rafa's came with the slap of sandals against her bare heels, light and scuffling; Mustadio's could only be called careless, uneven, and he gave himself away with the clank of his gun, of spare bullets, and the pouch of tools he never seemed to remove from his belt. She was tending the night's stew - more a porridge, of boiled rice and bits of venison - and heard his approach over the snapping of the fire.
"Agrias!" Something metallic dug into the dirt beside her, and she prayed it was not what she thought. "Can it sit for a minute?"
She straightened, leaving the ladle resting on a flat rock, and glanced over her shoulder. "Surely you jest."
"Nothing funny about it." Mustadio dropped onto the log beside her and dragged the accursed creation around the end, propping it against his knee. "You did say--"
"--'Give me a gun with a blade and we will discuss the merits of firearms.' Yes. I recall." That conversation must have taken place before she knew of Bunansa's delusions of granduer. He was a fair hand with seige machines when they had need of such equipment, and he managed to rig armor for special missions on occasion, all thanks to his skill in engineering. When it came to inventions, however-- "You're welcome to try it - over there," she said, pointing to the clearing to their left, "where you will not set anything important on fire."
Mustadio frowned. "That was an accident."
Agrias snorted. "Of course." The gunblade - ridiculous name - was a flat, mirror-like plane of a blade, bevelled at the edges, and she knew by the glint it was sharpened. The hilt, though, looked awkward; it slanted like the handle of a gun and looked too light, and the barrels, while they might add necessary weight, would only throw the thing off balance. "Do you mean to tell me this thing will actually fire without singing its own blade?" She reached over and seized the handle. It was light as she thought; the blade would be unweildly at best.
"It fires." Mustadio propped his elbows on his knees and tossed a twig into the fire. "As for the blade..."
"Unusable."
"Then tell me how to make it usable. I'll bet you ten gold I can do it."
Agrias sank the blade back into the dirt. "Idiot."
He grinned, showing teeth. "I have the capital. You?"
Her lips thinned. She was a knight, not a vagrant. "Two days."
"Deal."
..........................................
.
Prompt: 13 - Caring Character
Character: Ovelia
Requested by:
reynardfoxWords: 390
..........................................
"Hold still, or I might catch your skin," Ovelia said, holding her knight's arm in one hand, bandage pinned in place with her thumb. She dipped the needle with the other, catching the next layer of linen and stitching top layer to bottom. Sewing was one of the few things she could manage wtih skill, relative to the others. Noblewomen were supposed to be adept at needlework - thus, it appeared on her cirruculum at the monastery.
Agrias nodded, her pale hair backlit by a gap in the pines beyond, appearing to be gold in truth where the wisps drifted loose from her braids. "Your kindness is appreciated," she said softly, her eyes carefully averted. Ramza and Lavian discussed their route to Lionel at the edge of their camp site, and the chocobos picked around the field past the trees, rustling the high grass and snapping their beaks. "I--" Agrias's mouth worked. "I am obligated to remind you, however--"
"That I should not dirty my hands with this common task? Yes, I know." Ovelia knotted the thread twice and cut it close to the fabric with a small knife. Then she helped Agrias fit her vambrace over the bandage. It glared between the buckles, showed near the elbow where the plate didn't reach. "If I allow another to care for you, I can't be sure of your health. At the least, if I do this now, I can watch you raise arms and know better."
She fit the knife and thread into their leather case, and worked the needle into its tiny pincushion. When they left Orbonne she'd thought it useless to pack; at home she would have access needles, threads in silk and cotton, linen, and so many different colors one's head could spin. She would have real scissors and fine fabric for her embroidery. She'd imagined it when stitching the simple homespun robes of monks and her own plain dresses.
To think such a small thing would prove useful after all - perhaps it was a metaphor.
"Please forgive me," Ovelia said when she'd secured the case and tucked it into her travel bag. "The others have suffered worse injury, but I find myself worried even when you've only been scratched." She smiled and fiddled with her braid. "I'll try not to worry so much as long as you promise to take care."
..........................................
.
Prompt: 25 - Disheveled Character
Character: Agrias
Requested by:
reynardfoxWords: 385
..........................................
Though Agrias was loathe to put her trust in Riovannes for anything after the battle was finally over, she collapsed with the others when Ramza declared the place safe - or empty, at least, for the time being - and told their comrades to find shelter in the ballroom, where they might all fit without complications. They took their mounts; she found the idea of the birds dirtying the church's fine treasures and rugs tolerable, if not pleasant.
She bedded down in the far corner, away from the windows, and used her folded coat as a pillow, though it wasn't soft enough to make a difference. The marble floor made a cold bed, and her cloak, though lined in dark fur, was just short enough to leave some part of her bare to the chill of the air. The others had similar problems by the sound of it; she heard armor clank and scrape the floor, chain mail jingle, and shoes scuff as people turned, lay flat, or abandoned sleep altogether and left the room to supplement the guard. Chocobos snuffled on the other side of the room, their clawed feet clicking with every step.
Agrias had just drifted into a half-sleep when a blast of moist air to her face jolted her awake. "Wha--" She sat up quickly, found herself face-to-face with Alkoun, and jerked back with a curse. He snapped at the air over her ear. No. Go! she whispered, shoving his beak away. Bloody bird, get over there were you belong! Alkoun warked softly and nudged her hair. What. What do you want? The twins stirred, wedged into the space between a column and the wall not three meters away; Malach's eyes glinted, and Rafa muttered in her sleep.
She glared at her chocobo. Well?
Alkoun snapped his beak again. Snap, snap, sn--
Oh. Agrias's lips thinned, and she grabbed a tuft of his feathers to haul herself to her feet. She'd forgotten to feed him. Of course. Idiot, she muttered, and wasn't quite sure if she referred to herself or the bird. Couldn't he have chewed his way through the grain pouch?
She sighed. Ah well. It wasn't as if she'd slept well anyway.
..........................................
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-31 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-31 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-31 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-03 11:41 am (UTC)I want to think he demanded her more than she was capable of giving from herself. Sure his scheme was not meant for her happiness as he said, but that doesn't mean she was only a tool. I think he would have be willing to loved her if she'd showed more faith in him.
For the fun of pointing the obvious : I love Delita. :P
The guy may have quite hard means to achieve his goals, but in final, didn't he meant good to the realm and brought durable peace ?
Ok Ramza never stopped showing him faith and kindness when in return, he could not abandon a pointless jealousy, but that is not a reason for his wife to see him as a monster (the guy's just human éè)
Whatever, when they pretend to love someone are they supposed to stab him<>her for personal vengeance ? DelitaxOvelia is for me a story made of "what if"s.