[Fic] Dissidia: Final Fantasy - Errant Egotism [1/?]
Title: Errant Egotism [1/?]
Pairings: Eventual Squall Leonhart x Zidane Tribal
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Zidane suffers an injury that takes him out of action for a few days, tempers flare, friendships are thrown out of balance, and everyone learns things a thing or two about the others.
Warnings: Language
Notes: A CHAPTERED FIC OH MY GOD. MANIKINS ARE THE BEST PLOT DEVICE OUTSIDE OF FIRION'S ROSE.
Bartz Klauser was someone who believed strongly in luck. He believed in lucky charms, in silly superstitions, and in concepts like karma.
So, he just had to wonder what he had done to deserve this.
Manikins, while always dangerous, were usually a containable threat. They usually acted on their own, though they sometimes formed groups, which is why the Cosmos warriors eventually started to emphasize safety in numbers. As long as you had someone to watch your back, you were generally pretty safe as long as you didn't make any stupid mistakes.
This manikin, though. It was what Bartz liked to call a "super manikin," one that was ridiculously strong and could cause a lot of damage all by itself. This particular one took the form of the Warrior of Light, and Bartz couldn't help but note that it made a good choice of person to imitate. He summoned a lance to block a sword slash, and wished he knew who it belonged to, so he could properly thank them for such a sturdy thing he could use to defend himself. Despite being on the defensive, he was feeling good about himself, as the wind was blowing behind him. A good sign. The powerful blows from the manikin, however, were forcing him backwards and Bartz very quickly found himself with his back to a very tall cliff, and he felt a shiver of fear. And even worse, the wind shifted, now blowing against him.
This was very, very bad.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaartz!"
From out of nowhere, Zidane burst onto the scene, having heard the sounds of battle on chance. Really now, he couldn't leave Bartz alone for a minute, could he? He built up speed and launched himself at the manikin, colliding with it and slashing at it with his dual Mage Mashers. It was not going to go down easily, and it tried to force him off itself. It was unsuccessful as Zidane used his forward momentum to send the both of them rolling like a wheel, locked in a power struggle.
Bartz wanted to help, but with Zidane and the manikin so close to each other and moving about like that, there was a very high chance that he might end up hitting his friend instead. So all he could do was watch, and suddenly, he realized something very important.
"Zidane, stop!" he yelled. "You're going to-"
Too late. Zidane and the manikin had rolled off the edge of the cliff. Bartz called his name and ran over to the spot they had fallen over, looking over in horror as his friend started to tumble uncontrollably in the air. Zidane drifted close to the cliff, and managed to jam both of his daggers into the side to slow his descent and eventually skid to a stop. His arms were all scratched up, but it was far preferable to free falling down to the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief looked up to call to Bartz that he was okay and was going to climb back up, but before he could say anything, he felt a great weight latch onto him. The manikin, even though it was plummeting down to the earth, was still was set on killing its opponent. Had it taken the form of someone smaller, like Terra or even himself, Zidane would have been able to perhaps shake it off somehow, but definitely not someone like the Warrior of Light, and the crystalline armor it wore was just as heavy as the real thing. Unable to support its weight along with his own, Zidane let go of the handles of his daggers.
He fell once again, this time his body colliding with the cliff face multiple times and rolling down, hitting all the bumps and rocks along the way. The manikin, who had simply free fell the rest of the way down, smashed into the ground, its body splitting into countless shards. Zidane was already unconscious when he rolled off the last ledge and onto the bottom.
Bartz was frozen with shock and fear for a few seconds before forcing himself to snap out of it. He should go down there. But...it was so high up! He had to get to Zidane! His nerves failed him. He turned around and ran.
Squall Leonhart was debating the wisdom of letting Bartz and Zidane go off by themselves. But then again, he also debated the wisdom of letting them stay in one place as well. And the wisdom of sticking with them. They brought him so much trouble he often wondered what it was that compelled him to stay with them. Eventually, he just accepted that it was something he wanted to do and stopped trying to make sense of it.
It was his turn to take care of the campsite, make sure it was safe and get food ready. Even though they had initially agreed to take turns and rotate the duty every day, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to work. Squall was best at it, with the patience to stay in one place however long was needed, along with being the best cook out of the three. Zidane did just fine at it even though he would complain it was boring with nobody around. Bartz, however, Bartz was banned from camp duty for all eternity due to an unfortunate incident involving poisonous berries that made both Squall and Zidane sick as dogs.
"Squall!"
Speaking of Bartz...
But something seemed wrong. There was a sense of urgency in Bartz's voice, and while it's been a while since he heard it, Squall knew that it was a tone that Bartz only used when something had gone incredibly, terribly wrong.
"What happened?" he asked, everything he was doing and thinking forgotten. As Bartz got closer, Squall could see him panicked and genuinely scared. Bartz tried to talk, but no words came out of his mouth. "Bartz," Squall said. "Bartz. Take a deep breath, then tell me what happened. Where's Zidane?" Bartz did as instructed and was able to properly talk this time, but he was clearly shaken. Squall didn't blame him in the least, and tried to reassure him. "Zidane is made of ridiculously strong stuff. He'll be fine. Take me to him."
The cliff Bartz took him to was much larger than Squall was expecting. Looking over the edge he could see Zidane's daggers stuck into the rock, and further down, the thief himself, unmoving on the ground. The way he was laying...Squall swore and immediately started looking for a way down, eventually finding one. Zidane was alive and breathing, but definitely not in good shape. There was blood and dirt everywhere, and his right shoulder was dislocated. Zidane opened his eyes, and looked up weakly at Squall. Unable to wave, he twitched his tail in greeting.
"Oh...hey Squall. Took you long enough."
Typical Zidane. Squall thought. That arm needed attention. The best thing to do would be to get a medical professional to check it out, but this world was sorely lacking in the healthcare department. Squall would have to fix this one himself. Thank Cosmos for SeeD training. "I'm going to set your arm back in place." Before Zidane could make some remark or other, Squall picked up a nearby stick and stuck it lengthwise between the thief's teeth. Before the question was even asked he answered, "You're going to need that," while placing both his hands on Zidane's arm.
Zidane felt very much like a dog, and wondered why the hell he would need a stick in his mouth. And then, a thought came to him. "Squall," he asked around the stick. "Is this going to be painful?"
"Extremely."
Squall was not lying, and Zidane shut his eyes and bit down hard on the stick, his tail thrashing about. Bartz, who had just managed to climb down in time to witness this event, winced in sympathy. He had Zidane's Mage Mashers in his hands, having pulled them free from the cliff face, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the handles as he watched Zidane suffer. This was also doing nothing to help Bartz with his fear of heights.
The process seemed agonizingly slow, especially to Zidane, but Squall didn't want to risk causing damage. He ignored Zidane's tail, which would hit him in its wild flailing. And strangely enough to both his companions, Squall talked the whole time. He scolded Bartz for getting into a fight with such a difficult opponent, he scolded Zidane for rolling over a cliff, and eventually, he managed to drag Bartz in for a conversation on what to do next. Zidane was too busy trying not to scream or writhe around too much to join them. Neither Bartz nor Zidane understood what Squall was doing at first, but both soon came to realize that he was trying to distract Zidane, to give him something to focus on aside from the pain. Once finished, Squall mended the majority of Zidane's other injuries with a Cure spell.
"You're going to have to lay off that arm for a couple days," Squall said as Zidane spit the stick onto the ground and sat up. "That means no fighting for you."
The fur on Zidane's tail bristled slightly. In a world where fighting was everything, he was going to be useless for a few days. Dead weight. Sure, it was only temporary, but...Zidane hated being useless. He wanted to protest, insist that he was perfectly fine, but he knew it wasn't true and if he didn't do what he was told, would probably just end up making things worse for himself. He wasn't physically as strong as most of the other warriors and relied on speed and momentum to fight. Most of his techniques required both arms to perform, and while Zidane could truthfully claim to be ambidextrous, he usually favored his right arm in battle.
Noticing his dismay, Bartz tried to cheer up his friend. "Hey, a few days is no big deal. Leave everything to me and Squall. We'll take care of you." He knew he had said exactly the wrong thing when Zidane briefly gave him a hostile look before standing up to follow Squall. Time for a topic change! "There's a river right next to the camp. You can wash up there." Zidane didn't respond, and Bartz wasn't sure if he heard him or not. He was aware of the wind, which had once again shifted directions to blow against him.
Bad luck indeed. The upcoming days were going to be rough.
Zidane grumbled all his frustrations as he undressed and got into the water of the river. The water was warm and the gentle current was soothing. His mood improved a bit when he felt the grime and dried blood leave his body, and he felt even better once he dipped under the water's surface a couple times to clean out his hair. Next, he had to wash his clothes, so he reached over the edge of the bank and dipped them in the water, then tossed them back out to dry out in the sun, which was fortunately bright and shining that afternoon. If only he had another change of clothes. Hey, Cosmos was a goddess; surely she could...goddess magic him some. He made a mental note to himself to ask her to do so next time he saw her. After he finished, he opted to stay in a little longer and relax, closing his eyes. Now he felt like he truly understood why women loved baths so much. He could hear Squall talking to Bartz about something, but his voice wasn't clear enough for Zidane to tell exactly what it was, but it kind of sounded like he was giving Bartz instructions. Well, that ruined any and all sense of relaxation.
When he finally got out, his clothes were still damp, but he'd deal with it. He was used to it by now. The last thing he put on was his hair tie, or at least he tried to. Zidane didn't fully realize the impact of his injury until he tried to get his hair into its usual ponytail. His right arm protested and refused to lift high enough to reach, his tail wouldn't be able to get the grip he needed, and he couldn't do it with his left alone. Annoyed, he was forced to give up and looped the band around his wrist like a bracelet. He couldn't even take care of his own hair! How pathetic was that?
Bartz waved to the returning Zidane. "Feeling better?" Zidane answered something along the lines of yes, but didn't sound like his usual enthusiastic self. Still down, huh? Bartz noticed the loose hair and guessed that Zidane wasn't able to tie it up himself. "Hey, you need help with-"
"No."
Bartz shrugged, watching Zidane make his way to a sunny patch of grass and settle down on it for a nap. "Was just offering. If you change your mind, come find me." Yep, the wind was right. Already, Zidane was getting testy. If he kept that up, he was going to turn into another Squall. What happened if you had two Squalls in the same place? Bartz didn't want to know, but he suspected that if this kept up, he was going to find out. With nothing he could do for his friend, Bartz turned his attention back to what he was doing. Squall was giving him one chance to redeem himself for the berry incident by helping with the cooking, and he was going to make the most of it.
Squall deemed Bartz performance "good enough" and promptly told him that he would let Bartz cook an entire meal next time. Under supervision because quite frankly, Squall didn't trust Bartz enough to prepare food on his own quite yet. Dinner was uneventful, and that in itself was an event. Something always happened when the three of them sat down to eat. They'd get attacked or they'd talk about any memories that might have returned to them. But this time there was nothing. And that was kind of unsettling to both Bartz and Squall. Bartz disliked the silence and Squall was a creature of habit. He had come to expect supper to not be so...normal. When Zidane finished his food, he excused himself and left to sharpen his daggers. Bartz turned to Squall.
"Does this feel...weird to you?"
"What feels weird?" Squall asked. "A meal where nothing happens at all or Zidane's attitude?" He too had noticed Zidane's change in demeanor. Hell, anyone would.
"Both."
"Then yes, this feels very weird."
"Falling and throwing his arm out must have been a shock," Bartz said, getting up and stretching his lanky limbs. "Maybe he'll feel better tomorrow." He was being hopeful, he knew. Bartz just wanted his friend back. The friend that he could have races and goof around with. He didn't like this grumpy, quiet Zidane.
Squall let out a grunt that plainly said that he didn't share the same optimism.
Pairings: Eventual Squall Leonhart x Zidane Tribal
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Zidane suffers an injury that takes him out of action for a few days, tempers flare, friendships are thrown out of balance, and everyone learns things a thing or two about the others.
Warnings: Language
Notes: A CHAPTERED FIC OH MY GOD. MANIKINS ARE THE BEST PLOT DEVICE OUTSIDE OF FIRION'S ROSE.
Bartz Klauser was someone who believed strongly in luck. He believed in lucky charms, in silly superstitions, and in concepts like karma.
So, he just had to wonder what he had done to deserve this.
Manikins, while always dangerous, were usually a containable threat. They usually acted on their own, though they sometimes formed groups, which is why the Cosmos warriors eventually started to emphasize safety in numbers. As long as you had someone to watch your back, you were generally pretty safe as long as you didn't make any stupid mistakes.
This manikin, though. It was what Bartz liked to call a "super manikin," one that was ridiculously strong and could cause a lot of damage all by itself. This particular one took the form of the Warrior of Light, and Bartz couldn't help but note that it made a good choice of person to imitate. He summoned a lance to block a sword slash, and wished he knew who it belonged to, so he could properly thank them for such a sturdy thing he could use to defend himself. Despite being on the defensive, he was feeling good about himself, as the wind was blowing behind him. A good sign. The powerful blows from the manikin, however, were forcing him backwards and Bartz very quickly found himself with his back to a very tall cliff, and he felt a shiver of fear. And even worse, the wind shifted, now blowing against him.
This was very, very bad.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaartz!"
From out of nowhere, Zidane burst onto the scene, having heard the sounds of battle on chance. Really now, he couldn't leave Bartz alone for a minute, could he? He built up speed and launched himself at the manikin, colliding with it and slashing at it with his dual Mage Mashers. It was not going to go down easily, and it tried to force him off itself. It was unsuccessful as Zidane used his forward momentum to send the both of them rolling like a wheel, locked in a power struggle.
Bartz wanted to help, but with Zidane and the manikin so close to each other and moving about like that, there was a very high chance that he might end up hitting his friend instead. So all he could do was watch, and suddenly, he realized something very important.
"Zidane, stop!" he yelled. "You're going to-"
Too late. Zidane and the manikin had rolled off the edge of the cliff. Bartz called his name and ran over to the spot they had fallen over, looking over in horror as his friend started to tumble uncontrollably in the air. Zidane drifted close to the cliff, and managed to jam both of his daggers into the side to slow his descent and eventually skid to a stop. His arms were all scratched up, but it was far preferable to free falling down to the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief looked up to call to Bartz that he was okay and was going to climb back up, but before he could say anything, he felt a great weight latch onto him. The manikin, even though it was plummeting down to the earth, was still was set on killing its opponent. Had it taken the form of someone smaller, like Terra or even himself, Zidane would have been able to perhaps shake it off somehow, but definitely not someone like the Warrior of Light, and the crystalline armor it wore was just as heavy as the real thing. Unable to support its weight along with his own, Zidane let go of the handles of his daggers.
He fell once again, this time his body colliding with the cliff face multiple times and rolling down, hitting all the bumps and rocks along the way. The manikin, who had simply free fell the rest of the way down, smashed into the ground, its body splitting into countless shards. Zidane was already unconscious when he rolled off the last ledge and onto the bottom.
Bartz was frozen with shock and fear for a few seconds before forcing himself to snap out of it. He should go down there. But...it was so high up! He had to get to Zidane! His nerves failed him. He turned around and ran.
Squall Leonhart was debating the wisdom of letting Bartz and Zidane go off by themselves. But then again, he also debated the wisdom of letting them stay in one place as well. And the wisdom of sticking with them. They brought him so much trouble he often wondered what it was that compelled him to stay with them. Eventually, he just accepted that it was something he wanted to do and stopped trying to make sense of it.
It was his turn to take care of the campsite, make sure it was safe and get food ready. Even though they had initially agreed to take turns and rotate the duty every day, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to work. Squall was best at it, with the patience to stay in one place however long was needed, along with being the best cook out of the three. Zidane did just fine at it even though he would complain it was boring with nobody around. Bartz, however, Bartz was banned from camp duty for all eternity due to an unfortunate incident involving poisonous berries that made both Squall and Zidane sick as dogs.
"Squall!"
Speaking of Bartz...
But something seemed wrong. There was a sense of urgency in Bartz's voice, and while it's been a while since he heard it, Squall knew that it was a tone that Bartz only used when something had gone incredibly, terribly wrong.
"What happened?" he asked, everything he was doing and thinking forgotten. As Bartz got closer, Squall could see him panicked and genuinely scared. Bartz tried to talk, but no words came out of his mouth. "Bartz," Squall said. "Bartz. Take a deep breath, then tell me what happened. Where's Zidane?" Bartz did as instructed and was able to properly talk this time, but he was clearly shaken. Squall didn't blame him in the least, and tried to reassure him. "Zidane is made of ridiculously strong stuff. He'll be fine. Take me to him."
The cliff Bartz took him to was much larger than Squall was expecting. Looking over the edge he could see Zidane's daggers stuck into the rock, and further down, the thief himself, unmoving on the ground. The way he was laying...Squall swore and immediately started looking for a way down, eventually finding one. Zidane was alive and breathing, but definitely not in good shape. There was blood and dirt everywhere, and his right shoulder was dislocated. Zidane opened his eyes, and looked up weakly at Squall. Unable to wave, he twitched his tail in greeting.
"Oh...hey Squall. Took you long enough."
Typical Zidane. Squall thought. That arm needed attention. The best thing to do would be to get a medical professional to check it out, but this world was sorely lacking in the healthcare department. Squall would have to fix this one himself. Thank Cosmos for SeeD training. "I'm going to set your arm back in place." Before Zidane could make some remark or other, Squall picked up a nearby stick and stuck it lengthwise between the thief's teeth. Before the question was even asked he answered, "You're going to need that," while placing both his hands on Zidane's arm.
Zidane felt very much like a dog, and wondered why the hell he would need a stick in his mouth. And then, a thought came to him. "Squall," he asked around the stick. "Is this going to be painful?"
"Extremely."
Squall was not lying, and Zidane shut his eyes and bit down hard on the stick, his tail thrashing about. Bartz, who had just managed to climb down in time to witness this event, winced in sympathy. He had Zidane's Mage Mashers in his hands, having pulled them free from the cliff face, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the handles as he watched Zidane suffer. This was also doing nothing to help Bartz with his fear of heights.
The process seemed agonizingly slow, especially to Zidane, but Squall didn't want to risk causing damage. He ignored Zidane's tail, which would hit him in its wild flailing. And strangely enough to both his companions, Squall talked the whole time. He scolded Bartz for getting into a fight with such a difficult opponent, he scolded Zidane for rolling over a cliff, and eventually, he managed to drag Bartz in for a conversation on what to do next. Zidane was too busy trying not to scream or writhe around too much to join them. Neither Bartz nor Zidane understood what Squall was doing at first, but both soon came to realize that he was trying to distract Zidane, to give him something to focus on aside from the pain. Once finished, Squall mended the majority of Zidane's other injuries with a Cure spell.
"You're going to have to lay off that arm for a couple days," Squall said as Zidane spit the stick onto the ground and sat up. "That means no fighting for you."
The fur on Zidane's tail bristled slightly. In a world where fighting was everything, he was going to be useless for a few days. Dead weight. Sure, it was only temporary, but...Zidane hated being useless. He wanted to protest, insist that he was perfectly fine, but he knew it wasn't true and if he didn't do what he was told, would probably just end up making things worse for himself. He wasn't physically as strong as most of the other warriors and relied on speed and momentum to fight. Most of his techniques required both arms to perform, and while Zidane could truthfully claim to be ambidextrous, he usually favored his right arm in battle.
Noticing his dismay, Bartz tried to cheer up his friend. "Hey, a few days is no big deal. Leave everything to me and Squall. We'll take care of you." He knew he had said exactly the wrong thing when Zidane briefly gave him a hostile look before standing up to follow Squall. Time for a topic change! "There's a river right next to the camp. You can wash up there." Zidane didn't respond, and Bartz wasn't sure if he heard him or not. He was aware of the wind, which had once again shifted directions to blow against him.
Bad luck indeed. The upcoming days were going to be rough.
Zidane grumbled all his frustrations as he undressed and got into the water of the river. The water was warm and the gentle current was soothing. His mood improved a bit when he felt the grime and dried blood leave his body, and he felt even better once he dipped under the water's surface a couple times to clean out his hair. Next, he had to wash his clothes, so he reached over the edge of the bank and dipped them in the water, then tossed them back out to dry out in the sun, which was fortunately bright and shining that afternoon. If only he had another change of clothes. Hey, Cosmos was a goddess; surely she could...goddess magic him some. He made a mental note to himself to ask her to do so next time he saw her. After he finished, he opted to stay in a little longer and relax, closing his eyes. Now he felt like he truly understood why women loved baths so much. He could hear Squall talking to Bartz about something, but his voice wasn't clear enough for Zidane to tell exactly what it was, but it kind of sounded like he was giving Bartz instructions. Well, that ruined any and all sense of relaxation.
When he finally got out, his clothes were still damp, but he'd deal with it. He was used to it by now. The last thing he put on was his hair tie, or at least he tried to. Zidane didn't fully realize the impact of his injury until he tried to get his hair into its usual ponytail. His right arm protested and refused to lift high enough to reach, his tail wouldn't be able to get the grip he needed, and he couldn't do it with his left alone. Annoyed, he was forced to give up and looped the band around his wrist like a bracelet. He couldn't even take care of his own hair! How pathetic was that?
Bartz waved to the returning Zidane. "Feeling better?" Zidane answered something along the lines of yes, but didn't sound like his usual enthusiastic self. Still down, huh? Bartz noticed the loose hair and guessed that Zidane wasn't able to tie it up himself. "Hey, you need help with-"
"No."
Bartz shrugged, watching Zidane make his way to a sunny patch of grass and settle down on it for a nap. "Was just offering. If you change your mind, come find me." Yep, the wind was right. Already, Zidane was getting testy. If he kept that up, he was going to turn into another Squall. What happened if you had two Squalls in the same place? Bartz didn't want to know, but he suspected that if this kept up, he was going to find out. With nothing he could do for his friend, Bartz turned his attention back to what he was doing. Squall was giving him one chance to redeem himself for the berry incident by helping with the cooking, and he was going to make the most of it.
Squall deemed Bartz performance "good enough" and promptly told him that he would let Bartz cook an entire meal next time. Under supervision because quite frankly, Squall didn't trust Bartz enough to prepare food on his own quite yet. Dinner was uneventful, and that in itself was an event. Something always happened when the three of them sat down to eat. They'd get attacked or they'd talk about any memories that might have returned to them. But this time there was nothing. And that was kind of unsettling to both Bartz and Squall. Bartz disliked the silence and Squall was a creature of habit. He had come to expect supper to not be so...normal. When Zidane finished his food, he excused himself and left to sharpen his daggers. Bartz turned to Squall.
"Does this feel...weird to you?"
"What feels weird?" Squall asked. "A meal where nothing happens at all or Zidane's attitude?" He too had noticed Zidane's change in demeanor. Hell, anyone would.
"Both."
"Then yes, this feels very weird."
"Falling and throwing his arm out must have been a shock," Bartz said, getting up and stretching his lanky limbs. "Maybe he'll feel better tomorrow." He was being hopeful, he knew. Bartz just wanted his friend back. The friend that he could have races and goof around with. He didn't like this grumpy, quiet Zidane.
Squall let out a grunt that plainly said that he didn't share the same optimism.