… I knew being on the last pages of one story would make me hyper about another. And there’s no Kerr here either ;_; Damn, this part is really boring to write but I need to get this thing moving again. You’ll get this random excerpt because I can’t find any floppies and the real .doc of this badboy is on the comp Jing is hogging (again. Ah well…), so I’m transfering it over the board. Inconvenient, but you get some sneak previews of stuff the world has not yet seen
Is this any interesting at all?
Backstory: It’s from my AU FF6 where Gestahl stopped Kefka (Kerr) from going mad on the floating continent. Gogo, being Kefka’s twin brother (Read Moment’s with Celes, Gogo’s Secret: Another face and Worshippers of Insanity ^^; has been brought into action and has spent several days trying to keep himself and Siren alive, locked up in the same room as his reeeaaally unstable bro. Meanwhile part of the hero gang is going to Maranda, which has been rebuilt by the empire (Gestahl didn’t die and thus acquired the power of the statues. You do the math) to try and free some prisoners for the Returner’s cause.
They had taken a risk by traveling by day, to be able to arrive to Maranda by nightfall. Setzer and Locke consulted the map surely ten times more than was truly necessary along the way, but considering their situation they couldn’t be too careful. If any low flying clouds were offered to the travelers, then those were used as hiding places. But overall most of the heaps of water particles stayed a couple of thousand feet too high to be useful. There were after all limits to how high one could come and still be able to breathe well, not to mention the chill. Besides, when in a cloud one could feel safer – for the prize of feeling lost at the same time.
While their gambler drove, Locke, Celes, Terra, Shadow, Mog, Sabin and Cyan stood along the railing with their eyes wide open in the hunt for any sign of the floating island. Interceptor stood beside the ninja of the troop, like a statue.
The daylight was nothing but a mortal enemy, however it would be safer to keep moving while they could be seen but get away quickly, than to be seen when they landed in enemy territory. While they were still on their way they were less sure to have to deal with the empire setting up a welcome committee at least. It would get more complicated if a soldier saw the Falcon land near Maranda.
Few words were exchanged, but the tension was tight. They made a small troop, and as this had been planned the discussion had been hot on whether to send more or less people. It was a dangerous mission, more fighters would mean better backup. But the rebels could hardly claim that they could afford risking too many of their more or less skilled magic users. This importance of achieving more fighters had in the end won the discussion and the final number of warriors involved had been eight and a dog.
If they would be victorious, the Returners would gain a valuable amount of new blood. If they failed, the blow would be devastating.
Edgar had considered coming along too. He had been voted out.
His tired attempt at a dry chuckle haunted the minds of all who had seen him back then. Their leader was near a collapse and they knew it. But he was too valuable to be let out where the vultures could even get a chance to see his shadow, no matter how he protested. The idea of letting him back on the battlefield to raise the spirits of the common people might have sounded good the first time he talked about it, but whenever it was proposed now, everyone hesitated. It was now a week since they had arrived to Figaro castle from the Coliseum, and the euphoria at being safe no longer clouded their judgment of danger. Right then however, the infiltrators’ minds were far from king Edgar; they had to focus on what they were heading towards. In the final, dying sunrays they sighted the southern coast of the western peninsula, once the outmost part of the expanding empire. It had been the last part taken over with “normal” warfare and not with the power of the statues. Setzer let out a slow breath as the shades grew deeper, embracing the Falcon and the Returners upon it in the safety of darkness. The evening had been cloudy, so there were room for hopes of a moonless night. The winds steadily became chillier and he wrapped his jacket tighter around him with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel. The gambler made sure one last time, with the dying breath of the sun, that the course was steadily set to go at least half a mile from Maranda. He turned his head and regarded the shadow behind him.
“I’ll be right back,” Terra promised and turned around, heading towards the stair leading down into the ship.
They had left one lamp on down there, in order to let her find the way when it was time. The warriors waited, the only sound being the wind, the mumbling engine and Terra’s footsteps. She went down the stair, and stepped into the nearest room to her left. After giving the window a quick glance to once again make absolutely sure that the curtain was down, she closed the door and stood in complete darkness. Only when she after this was sure that no light would be seen by anyone down on the ground, as not even the open hole to the deck was a danger, Terra reached into the pouch in the sword belt around her waist and produced a vaguely glowing stone. The flame within the green crystal flicked, but slowly. The young woman closed her eyes, holding the magicite before her in both hands.
“It is your turn, father,” she gently whispered.
Their bond as parent and child demanded no fancy calls to bring forth the esper’s spirit. Though Terra kept her eyes shut and Maduin tried to keep the light down, the flash from the summon wrecked havoc on the half-human’s acquired night vision. She blinked against the wisps hopping before her sight as she opened her eyes again. They were quickly forgotten though as a pair of soft, strong arms encircled her and the smell of warm fur tickled her nostrils. Smiling, Maduin melted away, down through the floor. His daughter would only be able to keep him summoned for a short while, there was no time to waste. Then again, a sign of affection to fill the void they both “lived” with were no seconds spent poorly. With a gentle smile still touching her own lips, Terra turned around and fumbled for the door, still holding the magicite in her left hand. She hurried back up on the deck as quickly as she could, finding only more darkness as she did so. But as she looked towards the east northeast, she saw a vague hint of illumination. Maranda. Below the Falcon, the horned esper swept forwards, following the airship but at a far lower altitude. And he was sending reports to Terra’s mind, which she passed on.
“Still water. Stay on course, we’re almost there,” she muttered, standing beside Setzer again.
Minutes passed with a few more reassurances from Maduin that they were still flying above the ocean.
“We have reached the shore now,” Terra finally announced, “there are some spruces below, can’t land yet… he’s going ahead…”
Setzer licked his drying lips in the cold winds, tense as a bowstring. Everyone else just waited, nervously. In the darkness they were safe from the enemy eyes, but they were also blind. The espers were not however, spiritual beings that they were. The gambler knew that he could trust their guide, but to not being able to see anything and flying at the same time was making him nervous, despite the fact that the height wouldn’t let them hit any trees. The lack of mountains in this area was of course comforting too.
“Start to slow down, we’ll be able to land soon,” Terra reported.
Setzer willed himself not to hit the brakes too hard, he knew the tension caused a risk.
“Alright… begin to descend…”
“Slower… we’ve got about fifty yards to the ground… forty… thirty… slower… twenty… good…”
Every member of the group grabbed the railing, apart from Setzer who held the wheel already and Terra who was too far away from the edges of the airship and instead sat down on her knees, still holding the magicite in a secure grip. As if he understood, Interceptor curled up beside his partner in crime.
“Ten yards… now!”
The thick wheels on the bottom of the ship and their metallic tentacle holders absorbed most of the impact, and considering the circumstances it was a fairly soft landing. Maduin returned to his magicite as the Returners got back on their feet and breathed out of relief as they could conclude that they were safely on the ground. The thought of the next step reverted them back to their tense state however. A couple of minutes worth of checking equipment one last time later, Celes, Cyan and Locke with Shadow and Interceptor in the lead headed off towards the glum prison city. The others stayed behind, in order to make sure the Falcon would be safe. In Terra’s case it was more a question about recovering after several minutes of keeping an esper in existence outside of his magicite; it had been quite a drain. There was however another reason to why she stayed behind; her bond with Maduin made her the best one to receive and call out warnings should anything happen. In an inner pocket of the dark cloak Celes wore, Ifrit’s magicite rested, ready to be used for an SOS call or a warning to lift off immediately within a moment’s notice. They all would have preferred to use some less powerful esper than the fire beast, but as Edgar had announced a day earlier, the healing espers were training medics in Figaro castle, and since the Returners now only owned four pieces of magicite it didn’t really matter which one they risked; they were <I>all</I> far beyond priceless. Of course, they always had been even when more of the magical rocks were in the rebels’ possession, but the circumstances had been more extreme than ever lately. Go figure.
Next up: Super stealthy Shadow stealths his way into Maranda and why can’t that seem compelling to write about?
Bah. I’ll throw in a bit of the lovely relationship between Kerr (Kefka) and Gogo just because I love the lil’ psycho.
:fungah:: “Beaten by a giggling madman. I don’t know whether to cry or be relieved.”
Gogo awoke with a groan and pressed his hand against his forehead.
It was too damn bright… He blinked a few times, then glared at the room overall. Where the light came from he couldn’t figure out, and he was too irritated by the sudden awakening to even bother. With a sour grunt he sat up in the sofa and rubbed his eyes. The extra door slammed into the wall. Gogo jumped by the crash.
“Damn! What the heck are you doing?!” he growled, glaring at the opening to the bathroom.
Kefka leaned backwards so that his head became visible in the opening. With a big, amused sneer on his pale face.
“Still sore in the mornings?” he said with a cackle and snapped back to finish whatever he was doing.
“Not any worse than you,” Gogo growled and stood after another few seconds of collecting himself.
“I’m smiling, see?”
Gogo stumbled over to the door, finding the inside a rather exaggerated bathroom. Separate shower and bath tub? Come on… Everything in the room had a creepy shade of red, and somehow the mimic wasn’t too surprised. Kefka smirked at him, standing in front of the porcelain washbasin with a tiny brown pot of something white in his hand. Gogo glared at his brother. Mornings had never been the mimic’s strong side, even the monsters in the zone eater had learnt to know that well. The painful way. Those who had known Gogo never believed him when he mentioned morning gruffness. But his brother hadn’t ever liked them either; the two men were both night persons.
“You’re awfully cheerful…” Gogo muttered and leaned at the doorframe, rubbing his face.
Kefka chuckled again and put the pot down. He exchanged it for another one out of the collection of various items beside the basin. Mostly pots of different kinds looking to contain a variety of soaps, and several of them didn’t even seem to ever have been opened.
‘Well, he never cared much for that kind of luxury…’ Gogo absently thought.
Kerr had been focused of complicated calculations and machines, and in the later business there was no use being hysteric about keeping clean all the time. At least that was the same…
“Why did you have to turn the bloody light on like that?” the mimic grunted aloud, drawing himself from the thoughts.
“Hey, at least I didn’t pour water on your face,” Kefka smirked.
Had Gogo not been so tired, his mind would have jumped far ahead in the conversation at once and seen what was to come. But as it was…
“Don’t make me punch you…” he growled and tried to straighten up.
“Watch it, I’m older than you,” Kefka snickered without turning away from the mirror.
“Yeah, five minutes. Big deal.”