FFXII: Early Morning
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Fran catches Balthier talking to the Strahl. For the_sandsea.
It's early -- early enough that Balthier thinks he's got the drop on Fran and can wander around and muse aloud as much as he likes. Which he does: one hand skimming along the familiar walls, he walks slowly, aimlessly. "We haven't been to Rabanastre in a while. I wonder how the fledgelings are doing. Vaan won't make a bad sky pirate if he tries a little harder and tries to forget everything he thinks he knows. I wonder if Ashe will see us -- Fran and I, that is -- this time. Last time she was too busy..."
The Strahl doesn't answer, of course, but he feels as if it does respond -- a lightening of the atmosphere, a shift as if everything moves into alignment with him. It makes him smile as he moves to the controls, running his hands over the seats -- newly recovered, the material stiff and smooth and cool under his hands -- before sitting down and closing his eyes, his head tilted back as he relaxes.
"You know," he says, softly, "I think Rabanastre would be nice this time of year. And it should be the rains in Giza, so it won't be so infuriatingly dry... although it might well be twice as humid as usual just to make up for it."
"Are you talking to the Strahl again?"
Balthier opens his eyes, twisting round to look at Fran. He didn't hear her approach, so caught up in his thoughts.
"What can I say?" he says, to her sceptical look. For a moment, his hands stroke lingeringly over the controls and then he straightens up a little, getting ready to take off. "The Strahl has more sense in her than some Humes."
"Including her pilot," Fran says, pointedly, but the sting is lost in affection.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Fran catches Balthier talking to the Strahl. For the_sandsea.
It's early -- early enough that Balthier thinks he's got the drop on Fran and can wander around and muse aloud as much as he likes. Which he does: one hand skimming along the familiar walls, he walks slowly, aimlessly. "We haven't been to Rabanastre in a while. I wonder how the fledgelings are doing. Vaan won't make a bad sky pirate if he tries a little harder and tries to forget everything he thinks he knows. I wonder if Ashe will see us -- Fran and I, that is -- this time. Last time she was too busy..."
The Strahl doesn't answer, of course, but he feels as if it does respond -- a lightening of the atmosphere, a shift as if everything moves into alignment with him. It makes him smile as he moves to the controls, running his hands over the seats -- newly recovered, the material stiff and smooth and cool under his hands -- before sitting down and closing his eyes, his head tilted back as he relaxes.
"You know," he says, softly, "I think Rabanastre would be nice this time of year. And it should be the rains in Giza, so it won't be so infuriatingly dry... although it might well be twice as humid as usual just to make up for it."
"Are you talking to the Strahl again?"
Balthier opens his eyes, twisting round to look at Fran. He didn't hear her approach, so caught up in his thoughts.
"What can I say?" he says, to her sceptical look. For a moment, his hands stroke lingeringly over the controls and then he straightens up a little, getting ready to take off. "The Strahl has more sense in her than some Humes."
"Including her pilot," Fran says, pointedly, but the sting is lost in affection.