Fic: No Prey-Beast (Drace/Fran, worksafe)
No Prey-Beast
The first time she ever saw a viera who was not citified -- hair undyed, expression closed, willing to meet her eyes -- Drace was already a Judge, well on her way to the Magistry, and it was on the road to Archades, and she was alone.
Final Fantasy XII, Drace/Fran. 500 words.
Worksafe.
Archades was not so far from the viera homeland, but by the time Drace was thirty she could count the viera she'd seen on both hands. The first time she ever saw a viera who was not citified -- hair undyed, expression closed, willing to meet her eyes -- Drace was already a Judge, well on her way to the Magistry, and it was on the road to Archades, and she was alone.
She did not travel alone frequently, or lightly; there were even then many who saw the head of a Judge as a fitting prize. But there was little to be done for it: someone needed carry the message back from the battlefield, and it was not a message that could be entrusted with a lesser soldier, and nor could they spare a guard for her. So she went swiftly, on her favorite chocobo hen, and did not pause until she saw the viera alone by the side of the road, her hair bright silver in the firelight, and her eyes wild.
Drace almost stopped, but chose, at the last moment, to spur her chocobo on past.
She did not expect to see the viera again, but two days later she rounded a bend to find the same viera woman in combat with three brigands. She held her own well -- for a moment Drace hesitated simply to watch her fight, for though she had the long ears of a rabbit she moved like no prey-beast -- but she was much outmatched. After her moment's admiration, Drace drew her sword, turned it flat-forward, and spurred her bird into the fray to break it up. It was not seemly to tolerate brigandry on the road to Archades, even were the victim a viera.
She did not permanent damage, striking as she was with her sword's flat, but swiftly the thieves scattered, swearing loudly and calling curses upon her head. They made for the bushes, and she was content to let them, for her message was more important than the pursuit. But as the last went his way, he paused and turned and there was a shimmer on the air, and then time slowed to a crawl, and Drace found her limbs as unresponsive as if she were swimming in cold honey. Her chocobo turned too sharp, and her stiffened limbs could not account for it, and she fell.
The viera came close to her, and knelt, and raised the visor of her helm. Her face was very much as a hume woman's, and yet -- not. Her eyes were too feral, the fingers of the hand still resting on her visor tipped with vicious claws. She put her head to one side -- her hair cascaded pale and cool over her shoulder -- and said, "You came to my aid."
My honor would not bid me do otherwise, Drace meant to say, but she could not force her mouth to form words.
"I would not have expected it," the viera said. She smelled strange, too, not the smell of sweat and soap and skin that Drace knew as a human scent, but a smell like doeskin and crushed herbs. "Still, I do not trust you." She let go of Drace's visor and got to her feet, and was at the edge of the forest before she cast Haste.
The first time she ever saw a viera who was not citified -- hair undyed, expression closed, willing to meet her eyes -- Drace was already a Judge, well on her way to the Magistry, and it was on the road to Archades, and she was alone.
Final Fantasy XII, Drace/Fran. 500 words.
Worksafe.
Archades was not so far from the viera homeland, but by the time Drace was thirty she could count the viera she'd seen on both hands. The first time she ever saw a viera who was not citified -- hair undyed, expression closed, willing to meet her eyes -- Drace was already a Judge, well on her way to the Magistry, and it was on the road to Archades, and she was alone.
She did not travel alone frequently, or lightly; there were even then many who saw the head of a Judge as a fitting prize. But there was little to be done for it: someone needed carry the message back from the battlefield, and it was not a message that could be entrusted with a lesser soldier, and nor could they spare a guard for her. So she went swiftly, on her favorite chocobo hen, and did not pause until she saw the viera alone by the side of the road, her hair bright silver in the firelight, and her eyes wild.
Drace almost stopped, but chose, at the last moment, to spur her chocobo on past.
She did not expect to see the viera again, but two days later she rounded a bend to find the same viera woman in combat with three brigands. She held her own well -- for a moment Drace hesitated simply to watch her fight, for though she had the long ears of a rabbit she moved like no prey-beast -- but she was much outmatched. After her moment's admiration, Drace drew her sword, turned it flat-forward, and spurred her bird into the fray to break it up. It was not seemly to tolerate brigandry on the road to Archades, even were the victim a viera.
She did not permanent damage, striking as she was with her sword's flat, but swiftly the thieves scattered, swearing loudly and calling curses upon her head. They made for the bushes, and she was content to let them, for her message was more important than the pursuit. But as the last went his way, he paused and turned and there was a shimmer on the air, and then time slowed to a crawl, and Drace found her limbs as unresponsive as if she were swimming in cold honey. Her chocobo turned too sharp, and her stiffened limbs could not account for it, and she fell.
The viera came close to her, and knelt, and raised the visor of her helm. Her face was very much as a hume woman's, and yet -- not. Her eyes were too feral, the fingers of the hand still resting on her visor tipped with vicious claws. She put her head to one side -- her hair cascaded pale and cool over her shoulder -- and said, "You came to my aid."
My honor would not bid me do otherwise, Drace meant to say, but she could not force her mouth to form words.
"I would not have expected it," the viera said. She smelled strange, too, not the smell of sweat and soap and skin that Drace knew as a human scent, but a smell like doeskin and crushed herbs. "Still, I do not trust you." She let go of Drace's visor and got to her feet, and was at the edge of the forest before she cast Haste.