Africa!
I watched Top Gear 10x4 earlier today! It was fantastic. However, I have an exam tomorrow morning and am about to run to bed, so I really only have two things to say.
ONE: I was completely unsurprised both at Jeremy's car troubles and the fact that the Lancia came through in the end, but for a completely irrational reason: Wheeljack's a Lancia. No wonder it spontaneously burst into flames on occasion.
TWO: RICHARD HAMMOND AND OLIVER = CUTEST THING EVER. OH GOD. HEARTS. hearts hearts hearts hearts hearts ♥
And now for something completely different.
I'd written part of this a while back. It got sent in the mail, and I've no idea if it's arrived yet, but nor do I care. I have been working on it since then, but I am not sure why. This is rionaleonhart (and her writing VARCHET/MOOGLE OTP at me for like an entire page)'s fault entirely. Yes, I am revisiting this. (Varchet is back at his post, for the curious.) The following is not intended to be serious in the least.
Varchet sighed in disappointment as yet another Adventurer waved off his pleas for a gambling partner. It seemed no one was willing to partake in an honest game of chance these days.
One of the many Moogles who lived in the city fluttered over, apparently concerned by his despondency. "What's wrong, kupo?"
"Oh," Varchet answered sadly, "It is just that I can find no one with which to share my greatest passion."
The Moogle stared at him thoughtfully - or, at least, he thought it did. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with their scrunched up eyes. "That's too bad, kupo."
Varchet nodded, and sighed again.
The Moogle hovered indecisively for a moment, then spoke again. "I could play with you, kupo."
"Do you mean that?" Varchet asked hopefully, looking closely at the creature for the first time. "But, no, shouldn't you be attending your duties as a member of the M.H.M.U.?"
The Moogle's pompom wilted and the little creature sank in the air. Varchet moved to catch it, alarmed. But it recovered and answered, "My Adventurer left today. He said he was going back home, kupo..."
Varchet nodded in understanding. Sometimes Adventurers quit the field. The Moogle left behind was often reassigned eventually, but was also often depressed over the loss for some time.
"And so," he said, "you have come to me in the hopes that an honest game of chance may be just what you need to lift your spirits?"
The Moogle shook its head. "I have nothing to do and you looked sad, kupo," it explained.
Varchet smiled, a bit ruefully, then tossed a ten-gil coin in the air. "Just as well, I suppose. So, what say you? Evens or odds?"
*~*~*
Surprisingly, Varchet's luck held up a bit better than usual: he broke even against the Moogle, and they parted ways that evening both in considerably better spirits than they'd met each other. He even managed to avoid his colleagues from the Woodworking Guild that evening as he crossed town on his way back to his house.
When Varchet finally retired for the evening, it was with a large smile on his face.
*~*~*
Varchet skipped out on his post at the guild yet again the following morning. He sat on the bench on the side of the fountain, sipping at his black tea and watching at the ever-present flow of Adventurers through the streets increased with the sunrise. It was still just a bit too early to try for a game, so for the time he was content to watch his potential partners as they went about their business.
A faint flapping behind him, however, interrupted his quiet observations.
"Good morning, kupo!" The Moogle from the previous day hovered just behind his shoulder and waved enthusiastically.
"Moogle!" Varchet exclaimed happily, surprised. "How are you?"
"I'm much better today, kupo," it replied.
"That's excellent, my friend! Are you then returning for reassignment so soon?" Varchet asked.
"No," the Moogle shook its head, then tapped its paws together, appearing almost a bit embarrassed. "Actually," it continued, "I was wondering if you were busy today, kupo?"
"Not especially," Varchet said.
The Moogle bobbed happily. "Do you think we could play your game again, then?"
Varchet nearly choked in amazement, and the Moogle flapped about in distress before Varchet was able to convince it he was fine.
"I'd be delighted," he finally answered, then indicated his cup. "But would you like some tea first?"
*~*~*
It really was, Varchet decided, weeks later, an ideal situation. He no longer had to search endlessly for a gaming partner, the Knights no longer had to speak with him about harassing the citizens, and the Moogle had something to do to keep its mind off its still too recent abandonment.
Adventures still approached him on occasion, on behalf of his coworkers at the Woodworking Guild. Sometimes Varchet wondered why the two still bothered, but he was always more than happy to take the Adventurers on. They often won; he had yet to meet an Adventurer who was distinctly unlucky. He figured luck must be related to the desire to throw oneself in the paths of the Beastmen, which would certainly explain his chronic lack of it.
The Moogle was a gracious winner and very often refused to accept its winnings, but Varchet worried about it some, and finally confronted the creature, nearly two months after this initial meeting.
"I've no intention of making you feel uncomfortable," he started as they enjoyed a light midday meal in the grass by the Auction House. "But aren't you obligated to rejoin the ranks of your fellows in watching over the Adventurers?"
The Moogle, who was sitting close by, flapped its wings several times but didn't quite rise back into the air. It didn't respond, either.
"Moogle?" Varchet asked, setting down his tea and turning towards the small creature. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset, kupo," it replied slowly.
"But?" Varchet prompted gently.
"But I ... don't really want to go back, kupo," it finished slowly. "I didn't want to mention it because I didn't want to you be angry at me for abandoning my duties, kupo..."
"Don't be silly!" Varchet cried, feelings nearly as surprised by his response as the Moogle appeared to be. "I care not if you desire a life beyond a Mog House and an Adventurer!"
"But," the Moogle started again, "that means I'll just be assigned somewhere else, kupo."
"Nonsense," Varchet assured it. "I have a brilliant plan. I will go to speak to the local Union Manager first thing tomorrow."
*~*~*
True to his word, for once, dawn found the Elvaan standing before the Moogles in charge of assigning Moogles and Mog Houses to new Adventurers.
"Are you sure, kupo?" The closest one asked him for what felt like the hundredth time but was, in fact, only the third. Varchet knew, as he had been keeping track. Numbers had come more naturally to him since he started playing his games of chance, and he often found himself keeping count of bizarre things.
"Yes," he replied as confidently as he had the first time.
The swarm of Moogles looked around at each other, then hovered close for several long minutes, whispering amongst themselves.
Finally, they broke apart again, and the one Varchet had determined to be in charge drifted forward again. "We'll think about it, kupo," it said, still sounding a bit wary, and possibly a bit annoyed. Varchet suspected he'd worn out whatever welcome he'd ever had as a non-Adventurer.
"No problem at all, that. Take your time! And thank you," he said earnestly, then had to bite his tongue and dart out before he asked them to play against him.
*~*~*
The Moogle was conspicuously absent that afternoon, and Varchet found himself once again begging the passing Adventurers for a game.
It was gloomy as he headed back across San d'Oria to his little house, and lights streamed out through the windows of the buildings as he passed. Varchet paused before he turned the final bend, nervous, before chiding himself. What kind of gambler was he, then, worried at what he might find?
The lights of his home were blazing brightly, and the door flung itself open as he approached it.
"Welcome home, kupo!" The Moogle called happily from just inside.
- END? -
YEAH, I DON'T KNOW. I've no idea how long this will go on, if it goes any further at all.
ONE: I was completely unsurprised both at Jeremy's car troubles and the fact that the Lancia came through in the end, but for a completely irrational reason: Wheeljack's a Lancia. No wonder it spontaneously burst into flames on occasion.
TWO: RICHARD HAMMOND AND OLIVER = CUTEST THING EVER. OH GOD. HEARTS. hearts hearts hearts hearts hearts ♥
And now for something completely different.
I'd written part of this a while back. It got sent in the mail, and I've no idea if it's arrived yet, but nor do I care. I have been working on it since then, but I am not sure why. This is rionaleonhart (and her writing VARCHET/MOOGLE OTP at me for like an entire page)'s fault entirely. Yes, I am revisiting this. (Varchet is back at his post, for the curious.) The following is not intended to be serious in the least.
Varchet sighed in disappointment as yet another Adventurer waved off his pleas for a gambling partner. It seemed no one was willing to partake in an honest game of chance these days.
One of the many Moogles who lived in the city fluttered over, apparently concerned by his despondency. "What's wrong, kupo?"
"Oh," Varchet answered sadly, "It is just that I can find no one with which to share my greatest passion."
The Moogle stared at him thoughtfully - or, at least, he thought it did. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with their scrunched up eyes. "That's too bad, kupo."
Varchet nodded, and sighed again.
The Moogle hovered indecisively for a moment, then spoke again. "I could play with you, kupo."
"Do you mean that?" Varchet asked hopefully, looking closely at the creature for the first time. "But, no, shouldn't you be attending your duties as a member of the M.H.M.U.?"
The Moogle's pompom wilted and the little creature sank in the air. Varchet moved to catch it, alarmed. But it recovered and answered, "My Adventurer left today. He said he was going back home, kupo..."
Varchet nodded in understanding. Sometimes Adventurers quit the field. The Moogle left behind was often reassigned eventually, but was also often depressed over the loss for some time.
"And so," he said, "you have come to me in the hopes that an honest game of chance may be just what you need to lift your spirits?"
The Moogle shook its head. "I have nothing to do and you looked sad, kupo," it explained.
Varchet smiled, a bit ruefully, then tossed a ten-gil coin in the air. "Just as well, I suppose. So, what say you? Evens or odds?"
*~*~*
Surprisingly, Varchet's luck held up a bit better than usual: he broke even against the Moogle, and they parted ways that evening both in considerably better spirits than they'd met each other. He even managed to avoid his colleagues from the Woodworking Guild that evening as he crossed town on his way back to his house.
When Varchet finally retired for the evening, it was with a large smile on his face.
*~*~*
Varchet skipped out on his post at the guild yet again the following morning. He sat on the bench on the side of the fountain, sipping at his black tea and watching at the ever-present flow of Adventurers through the streets increased with the sunrise. It was still just a bit too early to try for a game, so for the time he was content to watch his potential partners as they went about their business.
A faint flapping behind him, however, interrupted his quiet observations.
"Good morning, kupo!" The Moogle from the previous day hovered just behind his shoulder and waved enthusiastically.
"Moogle!" Varchet exclaimed happily, surprised. "How are you?"
"I'm much better today, kupo," it replied.
"That's excellent, my friend! Are you then returning for reassignment so soon?" Varchet asked.
"No," the Moogle shook its head, then tapped its paws together, appearing almost a bit embarrassed. "Actually," it continued, "I was wondering if you were busy today, kupo?"
"Not especially," Varchet said.
The Moogle bobbed happily. "Do you think we could play your game again, then?"
Varchet nearly choked in amazement, and the Moogle flapped about in distress before Varchet was able to convince it he was fine.
"I'd be delighted," he finally answered, then indicated his cup. "But would you like some tea first?"
*~*~*
It really was, Varchet decided, weeks later, an ideal situation. He no longer had to search endlessly for a gaming partner, the Knights no longer had to speak with him about harassing the citizens, and the Moogle had something to do to keep its mind off its still too recent abandonment.
Adventures still approached him on occasion, on behalf of his coworkers at the Woodworking Guild. Sometimes Varchet wondered why the two still bothered, but he was always more than happy to take the Adventurers on. They often won; he had yet to meet an Adventurer who was distinctly unlucky. He figured luck must be related to the desire to throw oneself in the paths of the Beastmen, which would certainly explain his chronic lack of it.
The Moogle was a gracious winner and very often refused to accept its winnings, but Varchet worried about it some, and finally confronted the creature, nearly two months after this initial meeting.
"I've no intention of making you feel uncomfortable," he started as they enjoyed a light midday meal in the grass by the Auction House. "But aren't you obligated to rejoin the ranks of your fellows in watching over the Adventurers?"
The Moogle, who was sitting close by, flapped its wings several times but didn't quite rise back into the air. It didn't respond, either.
"Moogle?" Varchet asked, setting down his tea and turning towards the small creature. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset, kupo," it replied slowly.
"But?" Varchet prompted gently.
"But I ... don't really want to go back, kupo," it finished slowly. "I didn't want to mention it because I didn't want to you be angry at me for abandoning my duties, kupo..."
"Don't be silly!" Varchet cried, feelings nearly as surprised by his response as the Moogle appeared to be. "I care not if you desire a life beyond a Mog House and an Adventurer!"
"But," the Moogle started again, "that means I'll just be assigned somewhere else, kupo."
"Nonsense," Varchet assured it. "I have a brilliant plan. I will go to speak to the local Union Manager first thing tomorrow."
*~*~*
True to his word, for once, dawn found the Elvaan standing before the Moogles in charge of assigning Moogles and Mog Houses to new Adventurers.
"Are you sure, kupo?" The closest one asked him for what felt like the hundredth time but was, in fact, only the third. Varchet knew, as he had been keeping track. Numbers had come more naturally to him since he started playing his games of chance, and he often found himself keeping count of bizarre things.
"Yes," he replied as confidently as he had the first time.
The swarm of Moogles looked around at each other, then hovered close for several long minutes, whispering amongst themselves.
Finally, they broke apart again, and the one Varchet had determined to be in charge drifted forward again. "We'll think about it, kupo," it said, still sounding a bit wary, and possibly a bit annoyed. Varchet suspected he'd worn out whatever welcome he'd ever had as a non-Adventurer.
"No problem at all, that. Take your time! And thank you," he said earnestly, then had to bite his tongue and dart out before he asked them to play against him.
*~*~*
The Moogle was conspicuously absent that afternoon, and Varchet found himself once again begging the passing Adventurers for a game.
It was gloomy as he headed back across San d'Oria to his little house, and lights streamed out through the windows of the buildings as he passed. Varchet paused before he turned the final bend, nervous, before chiding himself. What kind of gambler was he, then, worried at what he might find?
The lights of his home were blazing brightly, and the door flung itself open as he approached it.
"Welcome home, kupo!" The Moogle called happily from just inside.
- END? -
YEAH, I DON'T KNOW. I've no idea how long this will go on, if it goes any further at all.