Warning: there is nothing redeeming about absolutely anything that follows.
So while at work, I amuse myself with various little dialogue snippets of varying levels of not funny. Thus, fic. STRICTLY IVALICE EDITION, FOR NOW.
“…do as the Archadians do,” said Penelo, sighing as Vaan began to eye a vase with a particularly alluring gold embossment. She tapped his shoulder.
Vaan shook his head and looked back. “What, dress really frilly and push people out of skytowers?”
“…Larsa doesn’t push people out of skytowers.”
Vaan folded his arms behind his head. “How do you know?”
“Vaan.”
“He looks like he could do it.”
“Vaan.”
“You know he could.”
“Vaan.”
Vaan waggled his eyebrows. “So why not?”
“Because. Larsa’s more gentlemanly than that.”
Vaan shrugged and took a lazy step forward, just happening to tip a small devotional cast of the Archadian war goddess into his pack. “Okay. Fine. He’d be polite about throwing people out of skytowers.”
The guard looked deeply confused. They always did when they had to go over this. Penelo really wished they’d just send out a palace wide memo. It would defeat the purpose of covert operatives, however. “So you’re the Emperor’s…”
“Friend,” Penelo supplied, at the same time Vaan said, “Bitchboy,” which caused them both to look at him.
Vaan looked back. “I could be his bitchboy.”
“You’re a little old for it…”
“I’m young at heart.”
Penelo rubbed her forehead. “At least he admits it.”
Vaan grinned at the guard. The poor man looked more lost than a cockatrice in a feywood. “So, my good man!” Vaan clapped him on the shoulder. “Let us see Gabranth, already!”
“You’ve ridden before, haven’t you?”
Argath looked back from goggling to wrinkle his nose. “Yes,” he said, stiffly. His cheeks colored a splotchy rose on his sallow Limberry complexion. “I rode here, did I not?’
Delita raised an eyebrow, and chose not to mention the fact he had done it sharing a saddle. It’d been an uncomfortable trip. “In any case,” he said instead, “Best step back, that’s Lord Zalbaag’s mount.”
Instead of listening, Argath turned back to the tethered bird with a renewed interest. “Really?” he said, nearly tipping his head into pecking distance.
Delita rolled his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest. “Given to him as a name day gift by our late Lord Barbaneth, God rest his soul, and plague us every night with the terror of that fowl. No, truly. Step away, Argath.” The bird had begun to shake the feathers in her neck in irritation. Delita leaned against the wall. Ramza would be back anywhere between a minute and a fortnight, he estimated. The deciding factor was whether or not Alma had gotten hold of him. He reached out, grabbed Argath’s shoulder, and hauled him back as Lavinia began to hiss. It wouldn’t do to have to bring a guest to the surgeons, he wagered. “You’d probably prefer to keep that ear.”
Argath caught his balance and spoke as though he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “Do they all come so large?” he asked.
It took Delita a moment to realize the question had not been in jest. “Oh. Yes,” he answered with a slow solemnity. “Gallionne proportions do tend towards the impressive.” He placed Argath back beside him against the wall, good two inches lower in height that the Limberry noble was. He pretended not to notice the other squire’s very pointed glare.
Ramza had his men assemble infront of his tent at dawn. It took some doing. Ladd had run off and Ser Beowulf and Lady Reis had been preoccupied…. staring at eachother adoringly. Somehow though, an assembly was managed. Mustadio and Agrias marched Ladd in at gunpoint, crate was brought to the front, a jar was set atop it, and Ramza cleared his throat. “Sers and Ladies,” said Ramza. The chatting ceased.
Their commander nodded approvingly, and continued. “It has become necessary to inform you all, that our front line mage Davyd was tad too familiar with an enemy witch in the evening past. As a result,” he gestured to the jar, “He has been turned into a toad. As those of you who had the pleasure of joining me in tracing him through the bog already have cause to know.”
Murmurs among the men, some laughter, some groans from the few who’d ended up knee deep in muck. Ramza had offered them an extra rationing of mead for their troubles, but he doubted that quite wiped the stench out of their boots. His certainly still reeked aplenty. Davyd, in his jar, croaked miserably.
“Now I understand that some of us would prefer to keep some aspects of our lives personal, being that we are heretics, charged with various heretical activities of which I shall not list, as they add new ones by the day.” And his men were now supplying in droves: ‘Immoral acts in St. Mateus Basilica!’ ‘Impersonation of a clergyman!’ ‘Being a clergyman!’ “-as an aside, I will state that the allegation regarding the chocobo is most empathically untrue.” He shot a hard look among the rows.
He gestured to the jar, palm upturned. “But to return to the matter at hand,” he said, “I understand your rights and desire for privacy, but in the interest of brotherhood and camaraderie, in the interest of charity, and in the interest of not having this incident occur again, I am required to ask…”
Ramza raised his chin and folded both arms behind his back. “…who among us is yet a virgin?” There was a long, stunned silence. Ramza scowled. “Oh, please. Do not all offer yourselves at once.”
“…do as the Archadians do,” said Penelo, sighing as Vaan began to eye a vase with a particularly alluring gold embossment. She tapped his shoulder.
Vaan shook his head and looked back. “What, dress really frilly and push people out of skytowers?”
“…Larsa doesn’t push people out of skytowers.”
Vaan folded his arms behind his head. “How do you know?”
“Vaan.”
“He looks like he could do it.”
“Vaan.”
“You know he could.”
“Vaan.”
Vaan waggled his eyebrows. “So why not?”
“Because. Larsa’s more gentlemanly than that.”
Vaan shrugged and took a lazy step forward, just happening to tip a small devotional cast of the Archadian war goddess into his pack. “Okay. Fine. He’d be polite about throwing people out of skytowers.”
The guard looked deeply confused. They always did when they had to go over this. Penelo really wished they’d just send out a palace wide memo. It would defeat the purpose of covert operatives, however. “So you’re the Emperor’s…”
“Friend,” Penelo supplied, at the same time Vaan said, “Bitchboy,” which caused them both to look at him.
Vaan looked back. “I could be his bitchboy.”
“You’re a little old for it…”
“I’m young at heart.”
Penelo rubbed her forehead. “At least he admits it.”
Vaan grinned at the guard. The poor man looked more lost than a cockatrice in a feywood. “So, my good man!” Vaan clapped him on the shoulder. “Let us see Gabranth, already!”
“You’ve ridden before, haven’t you?”
Argath looked back from goggling to wrinkle his nose. “Yes,” he said, stiffly. His cheeks colored a splotchy rose on his sallow Limberry complexion. “I rode here, did I not?’
Delita raised an eyebrow, and chose not to mention the fact he had done it sharing a saddle. It’d been an uncomfortable trip. “In any case,” he said instead, “Best step back, that’s Lord Zalbaag’s mount.”
Instead of listening, Argath turned back to the tethered bird with a renewed interest. “Really?” he said, nearly tipping his head into pecking distance.
Delita rolled his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest. “Given to him as a name day gift by our late Lord Barbaneth, God rest his soul, and plague us every night with the terror of that fowl. No, truly. Step away, Argath.” The bird had begun to shake the feathers in her neck in irritation. Delita leaned against the wall. Ramza would be back anywhere between a minute and a fortnight, he estimated. The deciding factor was whether or not Alma had gotten hold of him. He reached out, grabbed Argath’s shoulder, and hauled him back as Lavinia began to hiss. It wouldn’t do to have to bring a guest to the surgeons, he wagered. “You’d probably prefer to keep that ear.”
Argath caught his balance and spoke as though he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “Do they all come so large?” he asked.
It took Delita a moment to realize the question had not been in jest. “Oh. Yes,” he answered with a slow solemnity. “Gallionne proportions do tend towards the impressive.” He placed Argath back beside him against the wall, good two inches lower in height that the Limberry noble was. He pretended not to notice the other squire’s very pointed glare.
Ramza had his men assemble infront of his tent at dawn. It took some doing. Ladd had run off and Ser Beowulf and Lady Reis had been preoccupied…. staring at eachother adoringly. Somehow though, an assembly was managed. Mustadio and Agrias marched Ladd in at gunpoint, crate was brought to the front, a jar was set atop it, and Ramza cleared his throat. “Sers and Ladies,” said Ramza. The chatting ceased.
Their commander nodded approvingly, and continued. “It has become necessary to inform you all, that our front line mage Davyd was tad too familiar with an enemy witch in the evening past. As a result,” he gestured to the jar, “He has been turned into a toad. As those of you who had the pleasure of joining me in tracing him through the bog already have cause to know.”
Murmurs among the men, some laughter, some groans from the few who’d ended up knee deep in muck. Ramza had offered them an extra rationing of mead for their troubles, but he doubted that quite wiped the stench out of their boots. His certainly still reeked aplenty. Davyd, in his jar, croaked miserably.
“Now I understand that some of us would prefer to keep some aspects of our lives personal, being that we are heretics, charged with various heretical activities of which I shall not list, as they add new ones by the day.” And his men were now supplying in droves: ‘Immoral acts in St. Mateus Basilica!’ ‘Impersonation of a clergyman!’ ‘Being a clergyman!’ “-as an aside, I will state that the allegation regarding the chocobo is most empathically untrue.” He shot a hard look among the rows.
He gestured to the jar, palm upturned. “But to return to the matter at hand,” he said, “I understand your rights and desire for privacy, but in the interest of brotherhood and camaraderie, in the interest of charity, and in the interest of not having this incident occur again, I am required to ask…”
Ramza raised his chin and folded both arms behind his back. “…who among us is yet a virgin?” There was a long, stunned silence. Ramza scowled. “Oh, please. Do not all offer yourselves at once.”