Wutaiverse!
Yay for Monday Posting! And yay for sun! And yay for whatever other good stuff is going on!
Title: 1986 - 02 - Fishing for Moonbacks
Author: Scrolls
Rating: PG-13?
Fandom/Pairing: FF7/None (eventual Aeris/Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack)
Disclaimer: SqaureEnix Owns, I'm just having some fun.
Notes: Warnings for Zackyness!
Summary: What if Momma Strife had taken Cloud and Aeris and gone to Wutai?
Constructive criticism will be hugged while flames will be used to line the bunny hutch.
Enjoy Ladies and Gentlemen.
1986 - 02 - Fishing for Moonbacks
“This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“At least we finally get to see what this ‘Shinra’ is all about.”
“I heard they’ll arrive tonight, and that they’re even going to take out some of the older infestations.”
“Now we’ll know what all the traders have been talking about.”
Leaving the market square and its usual cluster of gossips, Zack maneuvered through the crowd making sure not to bump into anyone, his basket of purchases carefully tucked under his arm. Eggs were fragile enough, they didn’t need his usual rough and tumble ways as well.
Now out of the crowds of the night’s last minute shoppers, Zack could relax a bit and pay more attention to what was going on. Around him he could see people already boarding up their homes, though it was still at least an hour till evening, the fear making them prepare early.
The foresters were the first to notice it, how the number of monsters was increasing, and how close they were getting to town. No one had paid their warnings any mind at first. But after a time, when it was obvious they were getting into the fields, only then did they heed the warnings and strengthen walls and doors, build shutters for their windows. Slowly people stopped leaving town and even the foresters pulled back to jungle just around town. And for the past month, as soon as the sun set, everyone stayed indoors, and barricaded themselves inside while the monsters sniffed at the cracks.
The farmers had it the easiest; their crops were all in, and now was the fallow time. The craftsmen as well; with a festival soon they had many projects to keep them busy. The herders-who spent nerve racking days on watch, rushed evenings securing their beasts, and tense nights listening and wondering what they would find come morning, and the foresters-who could go no further than an hour into the forest, who were well into picking the area clean, had it the hardest.
Zack's parents had always saved some money, not a lot, just a little here and there. But now after so long, it was starting to dry up, even with Zack adding his own feeble savings to the mix. That’s why he had decided to breach the wall; tonight he would hunt the Moonbacks. Moonbacks; as long as the hand and forearm of a grown man, a silvery-blue color with crescent moons running down their sides. Tonight was the first full moon after the Ohrizez orchids bloomed, and tonight the fish would be spawning. They, along with whatever else he picked up along the way would be his prey, and one less thing for his family to purchase come the morrow.
It would be the first time he had been out alone in the jungle at night. The handful of times so far he’d been with one of his parents or a larger group. And with so many monsters around he would have to be extra careful, more than he’d ever been, his family couldn’t afford it if he came back injured.
Finally coming to his home Zack totted up the stone path, still careful of the eggs. The house wasn’t the biggest, but it wasn’t the smallest either. It had two floors; the top all bedrooms, the bottom floor kitchen and sitting area, bathroom, and workroom. A small stone wall that came up to his father knees and the same color as the walkway surrounded the plot. Inside was a slightly disorganized looking garden, creepers and vines clung to the walls and roof, and had to be cut back once a year from doorways, windows, and anyplace else they pulled. All around were beds and small plots of various plants, only a handful were decoration, the rest were herbs for teas, potions, and tisanes.
The inside was all lighter woods, taken form trees that fell in a massive storm in his great-grandfathers time, wide windows always seemed to catch a breeze, and attached to the kitchen back door was a wide deck, perfect for eating on the hottest of days.
“I’m home!” Zack called, eyes blinking as he came in, readjusting to the darkness. The main room was split between the kitchen and the sitting area. The furniture was made of darker woods and colored fabrics that contrasted the pale walls and floor. On the right wall was a steep set of stairs and two doorways, the closer leading to the workroom, the farther the bathroom.
“Hi honey, just leave the basket on the counter and go get your father for me okay?” Zack’s mother was the classic Gongaga, bronze skin and spiky black hair that trailed down to her waist. Brilliant blue eyes looked out of a soft but angular face.
“Okay.” He answered, placing the basket beside her and heading for the workroom. Opening the door Zack stuck his head in. “Dad, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Okay kiddo; just hold this for me a sec, will ya?” His father was of lighter skin than his mother, with short brown hair. But it was from him that Zack inherited his eyes and easy smile
“Sure.” He said seeing the bow in his father’s hands. Holding the smoothed wood Zack watched his father reattach the leather of the handle with a few last stitches.
“Alright, now that’s done let’s go eat.”
***
The sun had set, the windows were shuttered tightly, the doors braced by the tables and chairs. It used to be he could run around for another hour or so before his mother or father would call him in for bed. Now it was board up the house, watch the last of the sun fade through the cracks, and then head for bed.
Zack couldn’t wait for this to end.
“’Night Mom. ‘Night Dad.” Zack told them, grabbing the railing to head upstairs. He was stopped however by his mother’s hand on his. Looking at him, she seemed to be working out what she wanted to say; as if how she said it was just as important as what she said.
Finally she just smiled at him. “Zack, try not to anything foolish, alright?” giving him a quick kiss she turned and walked to the bathroom door.
Zack stared after her for a second before he scrambled up the stairs. His mom knew, dangit, she knew. Shaking his head Zack briefly wondered why he even tried; it wasn’t like he had ever been able to put anything past his mother in the first place!
“Oh heck, too late to not go.” He told himself out loud as he went into his room. Stripping down to his boxers he waited. Waited until he heard his parents go to bed, waited until the evening birdsong faded, waited until the gagighandi howled their claims into the night. It was only then that he moved, reaching under the bed for the clothes he had stashed there earlier. All blacks and dark grays with leaves and ferns printed on them. The clothing of those who walked the jungle at night, given to him just this year; pants, sleeveless shirt, knee-length tunic, elbow gloves, all patterned to break up the outline of the human body, make it harder to see.
As he got dressed Zack tried to review what he had been taught of night hunting so far. His own trips had eventually been cancelled when it got to dangerous. He knew that the night rules were a little bit different than the day rules; that some of the flowers used to hide ones scent faded in strength when night fell, how different tactics were needed to move safely from location to location. How at night you never hunt straight forward, instead setting traps or using nets to catch your prey. And that when you are close to water never, ever, ever turn your back on the jungle for more than a few seconds. To look away longer was to invite attack.
And the last and ultimate rule to go by when you are night hunting: always assume that you yourself are being hunted.
Tying the last strap on his boot Zack picked up his hunting belt. Wide, designed to carry a large pouch, two smaller pouches, a small water bottle, and his knife. Finally dressed, he pulled the stool over to his dresser, and clearing the top, used the stool to get up on it. Slow fingers traced the edges of each board, counting carefully until he finally got to the right one.
The latch was hidden well, unless you knew it was there, it was hard to spot. Slowly Zack pushed the panel up, He didn’t know who made it, but the hidden door had been done well, there were even vines nearby for him to grab a hold of, and more on the top to hide it. Quietly shutting the door Zack waited until he heard a click, and then began the careful task of climbing down the vines.
It took only a few minutes to get to the trees, but with all the hiding and dodging he had to do it seemed to take forever. Reaching the tree line he pulled out his treeclaws and climbed. His parents had told him that most found climbing and walking the trees hard, but Zack had never found it to be much of a problem. Jumping from branch to branch, flying through the air, treeclaws and hands the only things keeping him from falling.
Pausing to catch his breath and sip from his canteen, Zack eyed the area below him. Normally he would have gotten here in half the time, but with the lack of light and the difference the night had made he had gone slower. As such the moon was almost at its zenith, he would have to hurry and get setup, otherwise the Moonbacks would start spawning before he was ready.
The spot was a bend in one of the many streams that fed the river running by town, here if formed a broad pond, home to a handful of jagged rocks speared up into the air. No one knew what had created such stones, but their presence caught the water, pulling at it until this house-sized pond had been made.
Sliding down to the ground he quickly began to set up, carefully anchoring his nets to the bottom and bank of the pond and the sharp rocks. The waist-high water would be perfect for when things started. When the Moonbacks began to spawn he would splash and drive the fish into the nets, the smaller ones could swim right through while the larger ones got tangled in the strings.
Finished and shaking the last few droplets from his hair, Zack settled in to wait; tucked beside the very flowers he had been waiting to bloom. A bit longer, maybe an hour at the most, and the fish would start. He knew he would get in trouble for this, but despite the scolding-and automatic grounding-Zack knew his parents would be grateful for the fish and perhaps a little proud of him. That is if he came back unharmed, he reminded himself, beginning a check on his surroundings.
That was when he heard it, not the silence, which had become so pronounced as the year passed, but something else. A rasping noise, like someone with a deep chest trying to quickly calm their breathing after a hard run. To his left and a little behind, the leaves rustling helped, but he couldn’t figure if it was moving or settling its feet, whatever it was.
Slowly Zack drew his knife and brought it up to use as a mirror. It took him a few seconds to find it. There, tucked underneath the open root of one of the jungles true giants was a grand horn. From the size of both its body and horn he judged it to be a yearling, just kicked out of the nest this year.
And from the looks of it, it wanted to give human a try.
The distance between the two was too great for a single leap; it would have to make a second jump, most likely off one of the exposed roots from another tree. If he could get under it during that second jump he could do damage, maybe even kill it if he was lucky.
Seconds stretched into minutes as he waited for the grand horn to move. Not even the splashing signaling the start of the spawning got a twitch-despite how badly he wanted to start fishing. In fact the only reason he was even considering moving was the cramp just beginning to tingle in his leg-
It jumped, aiming for the highest of the roots to leap again. Zack turned to face it, knife out and ready to roll. The grand horn landed but he still waited. He had to wait until it started using its back legs, until it was committed to the jump. And jump it did, roaring fit to wake the dead, meaning to intimidate, to freeze its prey. And now he rolled; right leg out to stop his movement, hands cupped around the knife hilt, thrusting it upward and catching the monster just below the ribs, its own momentum pulling it across the blade. The knife was finally pulled from his hands when it reached the tail, blade getting caught on the longer scales.
Ignoring his wrenched hands Zack rolled again, shoving his back against the very tree whose root had acted as the grand horn’s springboard. He turned in time to see it land, to hear it grunt, whine, to hear the sound of something thick and wet hit the ground, and finally the monster itself crumple to the forest floor.
“In-ter-es-ting”
Zack’s reaction was the combination of an adrenaline caused knee-jerk and the warning’s ingrained into him by his parent of what he should do if a voice he didn’t recognize addressed him out in the jungle.
He climbed.
Hands, feet, and treeclaws got him up the tree he had been leaning against faster than any he had before. He climbed until he got to those branches that were thick enough he could treewalk, but high enough he would have a few seconds to get away if whoever was below came up after him.
After taking a second to catch his breath Zack stretched his foot down, moving aside one of the smaller leafy branches in order to see below.
On some level he noted the dozen or so men scattered in the clearing. Three were by the pond looking at his nets; another pair by the monster corpse-one was holding his knife, cleaning it off. But what caught his attention, what held it, were the eyes.
Eyes a crystalline green, a color he’d never seen in any dye before. Eyes like new-born materia, eyes like the purest of magic’s, the rawest life.
Eyes Zack would never forget.
I hope everyone has a nice week!
Title: 1986 - 02 - Fishing for Moonbacks
Author: Scrolls
Rating: PG-13?
Fandom/Pairing: FF7/None (eventual Aeris/Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack)
Disclaimer: SqaureEnix Owns, I'm just having some fun.
Notes: Warnings for Zackyness!
Summary: What if Momma Strife had taken Cloud and Aeris and gone to Wutai?
Constructive criticism will be hugged while flames will be used to line the bunny hutch.
Enjoy Ladies and Gentlemen.
1986 - 02 - Fishing for Moonbacks
“This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“At least we finally get to see what this ‘Shinra’ is all about.”
“I heard they’ll arrive tonight, and that they’re even going to take out some of the older infestations.”
“Now we’ll know what all the traders have been talking about.”
Leaving the market square and its usual cluster of gossips, Zack maneuvered through the crowd making sure not to bump into anyone, his basket of purchases carefully tucked under his arm. Eggs were fragile enough, they didn’t need his usual rough and tumble ways as well.
Now out of the crowds of the night’s last minute shoppers, Zack could relax a bit and pay more attention to what was going on. Around him he could see people already boarding up their homes, though it was still at least an hour till evening, the fear making them prepare early.
The foresters were the first to notice it, how the number of monsters was increasing, and how close they were getting to town. No one had paid their warnings any mind at first. But after a time, when it was obvious they were getting into the fields, only then did they heed the warnings and strengthen walls and doors, build shutters for their windows. Slowly people stopped leaving town and even the foresters pulled back to jungle just around town. And for the past month, as soon as the sun set, everyone stayed indoors, and barricaded themselves inside while the monsters sniffed at the cracks.
The farmers had it the easiest; their crops were all in, and now was the fallow time. The craftsmen as well; with a festival soon they had many projects to keep them busy. The herders-who spent nerve racking days on watch, rushed evenings securing their beasts, and tense nights listening and wondering what they would find come morning, and the foresters-who could go no further than an hour into the forest, who were well into picking the area clean, had it the hardest.
Zack's parents had always saved some money, not a lot, just a little here and there. But now after so long, it was starting to dry up, even with Zack adding his own feeble savings to the mix. That’s why he had decided to breach the wall; tonight he would hunt the Moonbacks. Moonbacks; as long as the hand and forearm of a grown man, a silvery-blue color with crescent moons running down their sides. Tonight was the first full moon after the Ohrizez orchids bloomed, and tonight the fish would be spawning. They, along with whatever else he picked up along the way would be his prey, and one less thing for his family to purchase come the morrow.
It would be the first time he had been out alone in the jungle at night. The handful of times so far he’d been with one of his parents or a larger group. And with so many monsters around he would have to be extra careful, more than he’d ever been, his family couldn’t afford it if he came back injured.
Finally coming to his home Zack totted up the stone path, still careful of the eggs. The house wasn’t the biggest, but it wasn’t the smallest either. It had two floors; the top all bedrooms, the bottom floor kitchen and sitting area, bathroom, and workroom. A small stone wall that came up to his father knees and the same color as the walkway surrounded the plot. Inside was a slightly disorganized looking garden, creepers and vines clung to the walls and roof, and had to be cut back once a year from doorways, windows, and anyplace else they pulled. All around were beds and small plots of various plants, only a handful were decoration, the rest were herbs for teas, potions, and tisanes.
The inside was all lighter woods, taken form trees that fell in a massive storm in his great-grandfathers time, wide windows always seemed to catch a breeze, and attached to the kitchen back door was a wide deck, perfect for eating on the hottest of days.
“I’m home!” Zack called, eyes blinking as he came in, readjusting to the darkness. The main room was split between the kitchen and the sitting area. The furniture was made of darker woods and colored fabrics that contrasted the pale walls and floor. On the right wall was a steep set of stairs and two doorways, the closer leading to the workroom, the farther the bathroom.
“Hi honey, just leave the basket on the counter and go get your father for me okay?” Zack’s mother was the classic Gongaga, bronze skin and spiky black hair that trailed down to her waist. Brilliant blue eyes looked out of a soft but angular face.
“Okay.” He answered, placing the basket beside her and heading for the workroom. Opening the door Zack stuck his head in. “Dad, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Okay kiddo; just hold this for me a sec, will ya?” His father was of lighter skin than his mother, with short brown hair. But it was from him that Zack inherited his eyes and easy smile
“Sure.” He said seeing the bow in his father’s hands. Holding the smoothed wood Zack watched his father reattach the leather of the handle with a few last stitches.
“Alright, now that’s done let’s go eat.”
***
The sun had set, the windows were shuttered tightly, the doors braced by the tables and chairs. It used to be he could run around for another hour or so before his mother or father would call him in for bed. Now it was board up the house, watch the last of the sun fade through the cracks, and then head for bed.
Zack couldn’t wait for this to end.
“’Night Mom. ‘Night Dad.” Zack told them, grabbing the railing to head upstairs. He was stopped however by his mother’s hand on his. Looking at him, she seemed to be working out what she wanted to say; as if how she said it was just as important as what she said.
Finally she just smiled at him. “Zack, try not to anything foolish, alright?” giving him a quick kiss she turned and walked to the bathroom door.
Zack stared after her for a second before he scrambled up the stairs. His mom knew, dangit, she knew. Shaking his head Zack briefly wondered why he even tried; it wasn’t like he had ever been able to put anything past his mother in the first place!
“Oh heck, too late to not go.” He told himself out loud as he went into his room. Stripping down to his boxers he waited. Waited until he heard his parents go to bed, waited until the evening birdsong faded, waited until the gagighandi howled their claims into the night. It was only then that he moved, reaching under the bed for the clothes he had stashed there earlier. All blacks and dark grays with leaves and ferns printed on them. The clothing of those who walked the jungle at night, given to him just this year; pants, sleeveless shirt, knee-length tunic, elbow gloves, all patterned to break up the outline of the human body, make it harder to see.
As he got dressed Zack tried to review what he had been taught of night hunting so far. His own trips had eventually been cancelled when it got to dangerous. He knew that the night rules were a little bit different than the day rules; that some of the flowers used to hide ones scent faded in strength when night fell, how different tactics were needed to move safely from location to location. How at night you never hunt straight forward, instead setting traps or using nets to catch your prey. And that when you are close to water never, ever, ever turn your back on the jungle for more than a few seconds. To look away longer was to invite attack.
And the last and ultimate rule to go by when you are night hunting: always assume that you yourself are being hunted.
Tying the last strap on his boot Zack picked up his hunting belt. Wide, designed to carry a large pouch, two smaller pouches, a small water bottle, and his knife. Finally dressed, he pulled the stool over to his dresser, and clearing the top, used the stool to get up on it. Slow fingers traced the edges of each board, counting carefully until he finally got to the right one.
The latch was hidden well, unless you knew it was there, it was hard to spot. Slowly Zack pushed the panel up, He didn’t know who made it, but the hidden door had been done well, there were even vines nearby for him to grab a hold of, and more on the top to hide it. Quietly shutting the door Zack waited until he heard a click, and then began the careful task of climbing down the vines.
It took only a few minutes to get to the trees, but with all the hiding and dodging he had to do it seemed to take forever. Reaching the tree line he pulled out his treeclaws and climbed. His parents had told him that most found climbing and walking the trees hard, but Zack had never found it to be much of a problem. Jumping from branch to branch, flying through the air, treeclaws and hands the only things keeping him from falling.
Pausing to catch his breath and sip from his canteen, Zack eyed the area below him. Normally he would have gotten here in half the time, but with the lack of light and the difference the night had made he had gone slower. As such the moon was almost at its zenith, he would have to hurry and get setup, otherwise the Moonbacks would start spawning before he was ready.
The spot was a bend in one of the many streams that fed the river running by town, here if formed a broad pond, home to a handful of jagged rocks speared up into the air. No one knew what had created such stones, but their presence caught the water, pulling at it until this house-sized pond had been made.
Sliding down to the ground he quickly began to set up, carefully anchoring his nets to the bottom and bank of the pond and the sharp rocks. The waist-high water would be perfect for when things started. When the Moonbacks began to spawn he would splash and drive the fish into the nets, the smaller ones could swim right through while the larger ones got tangled in the strings.
Finished and shaking the last few droplets from his hair, Zack settled in to wait; tucked beside the very flowers he had been waiting to bloom. A bit longer, maybe an hour at the most, and the fish would start. He knew he would get in trouble for this, but despite the scolding-and automatic grounding-Zack knew his parents would be grateful for the fish and perhaps a little proud of him. That is if he came back unharmed, he reminded himself, beginning a check on his surroundings.
That was when he heard it, not the silence, which had become so pronounced as the year passed, but something else. A rasping noise, like someone with a deep chest trying to quickly calm their breathing after a hard run. To his left and a little behind, the leaves rustling helped, but he couldn’t figure if it was moving or settling its feet, whatever it was.
Slowly Zack drew his knife and brought it up to use as a mirror. It took him a few seconds to find it. There, tucked underneath the open root of one of the jungles true giants was a grand horn. From the size of both its body and horn he judged it to be a yearling, just kicked out of the nest this year.
And from the looks of it, it wanted to give human a try.
The distance between the two was too great for a single leap; it would have to make a second jump, most likely off one of the exposed roots from another tree. If he could get under it during that second jump he could do damage, maybe even kill it if he was lucky.
Seconds stretched into minutes as he waited for the grand horn to move. Not even the splashing signaling the start of the spawning got a twitch-despite how badly he wanted to start fishing. In fact the only reason he was even considering moving was the cramp just beginning to tingle in his leg-
It jumped, aiming for the highest of the roots to leap again. Zack turned to face it, knife out and ready to roll. The grand horn landed but he still waited. He had to wait until it started using its back legs, until it was committed to the jump. And jump it did, roaring fit to wake the dead, meaning to intimidate, to freeze its prey. And now he rolled; right leg out to stop his movement, hands cupped around the knife hilt, thrusting it upward and catching the monster just below the ribs, its own momentum pulling it across the blade. The knife was finally pulled from his hands when it reached the tail, blade getting caught on the longer scales.
Ignoring his wrenched hands Zack rolled again, shoving his back against the very tree whose root had acted as the grand horn’s springboard. He turned in time to see it land, to hear it grunt, whine, to hear the sound of something thick and wet hit the ground, and finally the monster itself crumple to the forest floor.
“In-ter-es-ting”
Zack’s reaction was the combination of an adrenaline caused knee-jerk and the warning’s ingrained into him by his parent of what he should do if a voice he didn’t recognize addressed him out in the jungle.
He climbed.
Hands, feet, and treeclaws got him up the tree he had been leaning against faster than any he had before. He climbed until he got to those branches that were thick enough he could treewalk, but high enough he would have a few seconds to get away if whoever was below came up after him.
After taking a second to catch his breath Zack stretched his foot down, moving aside one of the smaller leafy branches in order to see below.
On some level he noted the dozen or so men scattered in the clearing. Three were by the pond looking at his nets; another pair by the monster corpse-one was holding his knife, cleaning it off. But what caught his attention, what held it, were the eyes.
Eyes a crystalline green, a color he’d never seen in any dye before. Eyes like new-born materia, eyes like the purest of magic’s, the rawest life.
Eyes Zack would never forget.
I hope everyone has a nice week!