[FFXII] A Drop and a Ripple, part 2/19
Title: A Drop and a Ripple: Shades of the Unexpected (part 2/19)
Canon: FFXII Original
Timeline: about 2 years pre-game
Characters/ Pairings: Fran, Balthier, Dr Cid, Nono
Rating: G
A/N: [1, 551] Three short episodes about learning to work with a viera.
He had sky-pirating in his blood. Ever since he first decided to run, ever since he first laid eyes on the little beauty that was his Strahl. Ever since he realized what his father had become. Four years ago, he had welcomed him back from his trip to Jagd Difohr. He still remembered it painfully clearly. When he had asked him if his exploration had been successful, he had laughed. A strange, knowing little cackle-there was no other word for it. As if he were laughing with someone…and not with him.
“Oh, yes, most successful, my boy. Most successful, wasn’t it?” he had added under his breath.
And whether it was the evening sun, or some other trick of the light, he didn’t know, but the glint in his father’s eyes at that moment had been one that sent a chill down his spine.
Back then, he was a boy of sixteen who had no idea why he was studying in the Military Akademy, no idea how he had ended up in a Judge Mediator’s armour, but a very definite sensation that he was on the wrong track. So much deceit, so much servility, practically crawling at the mere mention of the name Solidor, or of any of the Judge Magisters. Snakes and hyenas, backstabbing and begging for scraps, and whatever definition of justice was included in the job description, it was a mere formality. The only reason he ever decided to put up with it was because it had been his father’s wish. But the man who came back that day wasn’t his father. And then none of it made sense anymore.
He’d first heard about the Strahl in a discussion Dr Bunansa was having with his main engineer, how she was too costly to maintain and should be scheduled for scrapping. Then he’d had a glimpse of her through one of the dock bays, and the rest…the rest was history. History of the desperate escape kind. History that included shaky flights, dubious activities, a plethora of mostly nameless women, but best of all, freedom, complete and uncompromising. He felt alive, and he knew he had finally steered onto the right course. Or at least, it seemed so much like the right course that he never wanted to believe it could be otherwise.
(Four years. You’d think I’d be doing this right by now. How did this blasted fool find me?)
He stood very still, pinned against the wall of the large cargo craft’s storeroom by a lone guard’s sword, apparently very eager to be more closely acquainted with his neck.
“Gig’s up, sky pirate. Ain’t got nowhere to run now, do we?”
He cringed. To be caught by such a mumbling fool. He almost had a mind to correct his grammar, but infuriating a man who was tickling his jaw with a blade didn’t strike him as a particularly good idea.
The ship-a lumbering, run-of-the-mill, Archadian cargo vessel-was bound for the capital, docking in Bhujerba for repairs. Word was on the street that it was filled with plunder from the Empire’s latest forays along her northern marches. Now, how was a sky pirate to resist such a perfect occasion of both furthering his own financial affairs and playing a good prank on the imperials? Especially if said sky pirate had a personal bone to pick with the latter.
They’d made their move at nightfall. Fran efficiently neutralized the guards with her bow and soft-tipped, soporific arrows, perched high up on the rafters of the dock. The woman’s agility was incredible, as was her stealth. Apart from the faint whiz of the shafts through the air, there was absolutely no way for them to spot her, crouching catlike and silent right over their heads. This was already their third job together, but he had to admit her marksmanship still didn’t fail to impress him.
Speaking of Fran…where was she? He had instructed her to keep watch at the ship’s door, but if this guard had managed to slip through…who knew what was going on outside?
But he didn’t have time to ponder on the subject any longer. Suddenly, two sets of long, coffee-hued fingers slithered over the jeering guard’s shoulders, both indexes pointing translucent pink, but very sharp claws at his jugulars. Fran’s mouth was at his ear.
“I would not do anything as rash as this, if I were you,” she purred menacingly.
If he’d had the leisure to think, he would have expounded at length on the “dear gods” that crossed his mind once again at this new inflection of her voice. As things stood, however, he was mostly relieved that she had shown up just at the right moment.
“Perfect timing, my lady huntress,” he beamed at her, and was rewarded with the rare sight of a wily smile.
“A sky pirate who does not watch his back soon becomes a dead sky pirate,” she quipped.
“Eh, spare me the criticism, I know you win this round,” he grumbled, “Just help me tie this fellow up.”
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“Kupooo…”
The little white moogle stood at the entrance to the engine compartment, scratching his long, silver-lined ear.
“What is it, Nono?”
“Oh, Master Balthier, you’ve come. This is really something, kupo, you have to see it,” and he slowly pointed a finger at the inside of the compartment.
Balthier peered inside as instructed, and his expression took on a very similar appearance to the moogle’s. Her shoes discarded on the floor, her long legs folded out of the way underneath her, Fran was busy rooting around the entrails of the main engine.
“What the…?”
She seemed to pay little heed to the two bewildered faces that followed her every movement, proceeding to leave a large smudge of oil on her forehead as she pushed a stray strand of hair out of the way.
“It’s incredible, kupo. She asked me if she could help out, and the next thing I know, she’s fixing things as if she’s been doing this all her life!”
“There, it is finished, I believe,” and Fran’s voice had a satisfied note in it.
She stood up, reaching out for the piece of cloth Nono was holding out to her to wipe her grimy hands.
“And here I was, thinking that viera didn’t have a clue about mechanics, kupo.”
She smiled as she fastened her shoes back on.
“Viera who do not take interest in mechanics do not have a clue about it,” she corrected, “we are not all alike.”
With a disbelieving shake of the head, Balthier took the piece of cloth in his own hands and motioned to her to stand still.
“You are really full of surprises, my lady engineer,” he grinned, rubbing at the smudge on her forehead.
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“You won’t find fine arrows like this just lying around anywhere, guaranteed,” the large blue seeq grunted as he eyed the viera with his beady black eyes.
Fran gingerly picked up a bundle of shafts and observed it meticulously. They seemed decent, but nothing out of the ordinary. She frowned a little, cast a look about the stall, but it only confirmed that there was little variety to be had. It was not surprising, considering the size of the town, so she would have to make do.
“I would prefer that we stop at a larger shop next time,” she remarked offhandedly to the hume at her side.
Balthier was busy examining the contents of a bullet pouch and seemed just about as pleased as she was.
“Ah, well, it’s not my fault that people in this region haven’t congregated into a larger commercial centre. But I suppose I’d rather use this than my bare hands.”
The seeq, anxious at the possibility of losing customers, put on his most inviting grin.
“My merchandise won’t let you down, sir. But I see that you and your lady are used to fine things, so how’s about I give you a bargain? The bullets and the arrows here for 300g each. Whaddaya say?”
The price seemed a little high, but Balthier was about to agree. However, a look at both Fran and the seeq stopped him short.
Fran suddenly became very still. She didn’t move, she didn’t speak, she just fixed her eyes on the merchant’s face and held them there, unflinching. She wasn’t just staring, she was practically boring a hole through the seeq’s skull.
The merchant paled very visibly. He seemed to want to avert his eyes from that steely glare more than anything else in the world, but he stood transfixed, incapable of moving. All he could do was to suddenly start shivering uncontrollably, every inch of his large body wobbling like a bowl of Nabradian jelly.
“P-p-please, b-b-by all means, 200g f-f-for the lot! S-s-sorry!”
Fran seemed satisfied with the answer. Slowly, without taking her eyes off the wretched seeq, she opened her pouch and put the money down in front of him.
As they were returning to the Strahl, Balthier glanced back to see the merchant still shivering in his stall, casting terrified looks at the retreating viera.
“You really know how to handle your business, don’t you?” he laughed, eyeing the perfectly calm Fran.
“It is only a matter of knowing the worth of things,” she commented casually.