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year 5, quarter 3
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Once upon a time, there were two brothers who lived on the moon. Among all of their father's creations, the older was by far the most beautiful. He had skin like porcelain, hair like moonlight, and eyes that sparkled like diamonds. He was studious, sharp-witted, and practical. Day after day, the older brother would be sent upon the Earth to carry out his father's will. He worked tirelessly, skipping sleep and even putting his life at risk to bring glory to the moon-world he called home, but no matter how hard he tried, his father never loved him. As it was, his father cared only for the younger brother who had hair like straw and the intelligence of a dog. The younger brother did not have to journey in ominous ships beyond the safety of their moon. For four years, the younger brother did nothing but rest, idle, and play while the elder was not allowed so much as a break in his work, and still their father loved only the second, useless son. Finally, the older brother grabbed the younger, and in a fit of jealousy, threw him down to Earth where their father would never find him. Enraged, the father punished his older son and exiled him from his home.
But that was a lie. Kuja was certain he had never been jealous of anyone before in his life. Further, Zidane was not his brother, and Garland was certainly no father. The moon was actually a planet, and most importantly, it was not his home. For Kuja had never had a home, and surely not one so horrifically dreary as that one.
No, if he were to have a home, it would be a place with bustling streets and opulent marble pillars. His home would be one of glittering water, intriguing gossip, and enough culture to entertain him be it through theatrics or the opulent amusements of high-towering opera houses. It would not be fair to say that Kuja missed the upper classes of Treno, but he had certainly found the culture pleasant, and as he wandered the streets of this new settlement, it was Treno of which he was most reminded.
This town (Torensten, he had heard it called) was not quite as gilded as the City of Eternal Night. Its storefronts were composed of limestone rather than marble. Its estates had far more to do with rural landscapes than urban shows of opulence and waste. Further, the people seemed to be far more of the practical sort. They looked upon his Trenoese clothing with the shock and scandal Kuja most thoroughly associated with the industrial people of Lindblum who preferred the masculine honor of the hunt and refused the niceties of a knife and fork. In these ways, it seemed that Torensten could not have been farther from what Kuja might have mockingly called his home. Still, it rang familiar in those ways that most mattered: the harsh divide between the haves and have-nots, the sharp gossip he overheard echoing from open windows, and the cool formalities that hid the sinister play of politics. This was where Kuja felt most at his element and this was where he had traveled upon awakening in this strange, and yet highly familiar world. It was not Gaia, but it was not so dissimilar that he was put out of ease.
Kuja was more than accustomed to forging his identity anew.
Without any particular guidance in his new environment, Kuja first visited the item shop in the town's center square. It was a polished storefront directly adjacent to the square's granite-carved fountain, and as he entered, he found that the interior did not disappoint him. The walls were adorned in oil-painted still-lifes and the hard-wood floors were bordered in ornately carved baseboards. The air smelled of lilac and juniper-berry, and Kuja thought that here, perhaps, he might not stand out so very much.
The girl behind the counter wore a flowing pink dress and had curled her hair up in a braided bun. As he walked in, her eyes drifted from feather-tossed hair to gold-accented hips to pointed metal boots. Her mouth opened in a silent, "Oh."
Perhaps anonymity was beyond him then. Kuja hid a smirk behind his most perfect of smiles and approached the counter. His hand played at the practiced motions of an actor.
"Pardon me," he said, "But I appear to have lost myself in this great city of yours. Could you perhaps be of some assistance?"
The girl blinked. "Could I...?" she echoed before giving a short cough and clearing her expression. "Yes, of course. What do you need?"
"I have traveled quite a way and find myself both terribly under-supplied and rather disoriented." He tried to look appropriately embarrassed. "Could you perhaps offer me some direction?"
He had not expected her to look relieved. "Oh," she said, "You must be one of those new people."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a slight frown.
"The new people. The ones that fall through here from other worlds. You're one of them, aren't you?" She said it with another glance at his clothing, and for what might have been the first time in years, Kuja could do nothing but stare.
"I..." he started, but found he did not know what else to say. She gave him a cautious smile.
"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," she said, "It happens around here all the time."
He blinked slowly. "Oh," he said. Then he cast his gaze aside and gave a long sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid you're correct. I awoke here suddenly, and haven't the faintest idea where 'here' might be."
It felt strange, telling the truth. He wondered if his soul would try to escape him in protest.
"You don't have any memories then?" she asked with a frown. "A lot of them that come through can barely remember their names."
"I hardly remember anything," Kuja lied. What on all of Gaia was she talking about?
She looked at him sadly. "You poor thing," she said, "Well, I'd be happy to help you if there's anything that you need."
"Thank you, but I wouldn't wish to overstep your hospitality."
"It's fine. I want to help."
His smirk lasted less than a second. "If that is the case, then could you perhaps spare an ether? I awoke in the wastelands of this place and found myself hounded by antlions."
"Antlions?" she repeated. "And you escaped?"
"Only by luck," he lamented. In truth, the antlions had been child's play. Back in the Kiera Desert, they had been as numerous as beetles and he had employed them as guard dogs to his underground lair. Still, enough thundagas would drain even him, and he could feel the magical fatigue building behind his temples.
"I...Yes, of course. Take one," she said before handing him the bottle. He took it with a grateful nod.
"You have my thanks," he said. His thoughts still buzzed with her suggestions. "A lot of them that come through can barely remember their names."
"Is there anything else I can do?" she asked with a frown of concern. Kuja paused. Of course, there was the matter for which he had come in.
"Yes, actually. Though I greatly appreciate your assistance, I do not wish to burden the people here for overly long. I am a sorcerer by trade and would be more than happy to aid the city with my healing and magical arts. However, I haven't the faintest idea where to start."
"Well, there's a mage's guild on the north side of town. They usually come for ethers and elixirs, you know. Then the noble families like the Irvings and the Aurions are usually hiring people for stuff like that."
That would do. "Thank you," he said and gave her a low and proper bow. She looked taken aback.
"I, uh. No problem," she said, though she smiled all the same. He took his leave of her.
If only Gaia had been so easy and hospitable. He wanted to laugh.
The townspeople on the street took to glancing at him for longer than necessary. He heard their whispers, but he hardly cared. If dimension-torn travelers were something of the norm here, then he had an excuse for anything. He did not have to mimic their standards of dress nor did he have to mask his unnatural accent born of another language. He did not have to craft lie after silver-spun lie to cover malicious and unbelievable truth. He did not have to excuse the feathers in his hair, the unnatural blue of his eyes, or the uncanny perfection of his features. In truth, he could have even displayed his tail without the slightest suspicion in a world like this, though he never would. It swayed its usual metronome rhythm hidden in the pocket of his skirt as he uncorked the bottled ether and sipped bitter magic like wine.
Noel blocked the blow swung by the drunken patron at the bar in the middle of the town with ease, tossing him aside with ease. He crossed his arms and looked as the man stood, spitting out some unintelligible garbage that probably equated to "You won't win 'gainst me!". Noel sighed. He just walked up, and when he accidentally bumped into this guy, spilling his drink over them both, the guy just started swinging. Noel irritably brought a hand up to his left cheekbone, where the man had caught him by surprise in his sudden outrage.
The guy broke a bottle on the ground and let out a blubbering yell as he half tripped, half lunged at Noel, only to stop in place as his eyes found the point of the smaller sword mere inches from the bridge of his nose. His eyes uncrossed as he dropped the bottle, chuckling stupidly as he hobbled away down the street, causing Noel to raise his eyebrow.
"Sorry 'bout 'im, kid. Poor man lost his home to the monsters from the nort'. What're ye here for?"
Noel turned in time to see the bartender, a friendly man with a beard and eyes that seemed to always be smiling. Giving a friendly nod, Noel sheathed his sword and held a hand out. "Just looking for a place to stay. Some guy with spiky hair pointed me this way on his way out of the town." Noel remembered the guy that rolled out of the gates. After asking him where he was and where he could go for food and a nap, the man gave him directions and said nothing else as he tore off in the south, obviously hellbent on getting somewhere.
"Ah, tha's Cloud. He's a good fellow. Kind of on the quiet side." he took Noel's hand and nodded in greeting. "Any frien' of Cloud is a frien' of mine. He's helped out a lot aroun' here. Anyways..." suddenly, the man's eyes were drawn behind Noel. "Woul' ye look at tha'."
Noel turned and looked over his shoulder in time to see what he realized was the most oddly dressed man he had ever seen walking down the street towards them, drinking out of an ether bottle. Some people stared, while some younger girls swooned at the sight of him. Noel furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "I've seen stranger, if it comes as any surprise. Guess this guy is from out of town like I am."
The bartender nodded. "Welp, I'm gonna go get ye a room ready, alright, Mr...?"
"Noel. Noel Kreiss."
And, with that, the bartender had gone back inside, leaving Noel standing next to a pile of shattered glass, arms crossed as the man approached.
"Am I right in assuming that you're not from around here?" he would say as the man came within earshot of Noel. He hoped that it was the case, as maybe they could help him find out more about where they were at and why they were even here.
Kuja had been called many things in his life, some of which he would even agree to. Was he a liar? Certainly. A sadist? Well, he could hardly deny his own pleasure in the face of victory. A narcissist? Perhaps, though he saw nothing wrong with a certain level of self-indulgence. He had also been called outlandish, over-extravagant, and gaudy, though he believed these to be slander from those he had angered. Was he prideful? Wrathful? Merciless? He could make no arguments against it.
But if there was one thing that he could not be called, it was inconspicuous. No matter the situation, his presence seemed to attract attention as though by gravity. Perhaps it was his odd manner of dress, his unrealistic beauty, or the glimmer of the unnatural other that graced his every movement, expression, and intonation. As it were, even the people of this new plane could hardly resist lending him their attention. They tossed him the haughty looks of the scandalized, the distrustful gazes of the unwelcoming, and the envious looks of the lustful. It would have made him laugh if he'd had the time or disposition. How he adored the petty gossip of domesticated society. It was all so meaningless, so trivial, and so considerably amusing.
It was not until he reached a rather low-brow sector of society that anyone bothered to stop him. The concrete path had faded to worn cobble-stone. The storefronts were now adorned more with stained bricks than polished limestone. The streets had not been swept in some time, and there was a pervasive odor of alcohol wafting from the open windows. It seemed that he had wandered into a less than reputable part of town, but it hardly bothered him. His time on Gaia had not always been so luxurious as he had left it, and the streets of Treno had taught him well to keep defensive magic itching in the back of his hand. No, beyond his personal disgust, Kuja would not have been bothered by the change of scenery had a voice not given him pause. And what an invasive voice it was.
"Am I right in assuming that you're not from around here?"
A glance in the voice's direction showed a young man (little more than a boy, really) standing carelessly at the arching door of a tavern. What first struck Kuja about this boy was his gloating display of confidence. From his dark hair strewn messily across his eyes to the crossed arms and cool expression, the boy was a poster-child for youthful posturing. A glance to his side showed scattered shards of broken glass and the boy's strangely wrapped clothes smelled strongly of liquor. From the sword held in a belt at his side, Kuja could only guess that this boy was some kind of make-shift swordsman. Kuja had seen enough of them to last a lifetime.
It wasn't wise to gain the distrust of such a boorish sort. Such overconfident, brooding idiots often had something to prove, and it would not do to unveil the extent of his power here. So Kuja bit back the snide remark rising to his lips and instead paused to face him. Would it be best to appear polite? And just how to answer that question? Kuja was a traveler three-times removed from this world, yet he doubted such an answer would properly satisfy.
Kuja slipped into the role of an actor easier than most remembered their first language. He glanced at the boy, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, and offered him the slightest of frowns. "Is it really so obvious?" he asked with just a hint of embarrassment. He would have asked what had possibly given it away if he hadn't worried the sarcasm would betray his true intentions. Instead, Kuja gave a nervous flip of his hair and glanced aside to the wandering townspeople who still found him so captivating as to stare. "I'm quite lost, I'm afraid. I came here hoping to find answers, but..." He gave a short and delicate sigh. "There appears to be nothing."
He sounded wistful. His expressions could not have been more perfect had he practiced them in a mirror. Better to allow the people to believe him merely eccentric and innocuous than malicious. He was, by all accounts, a most believable damsel in distress. It was all so amusing that he almost didn't blame the boy for his interruption. Almost.
Noel had never seen a theatrical performance, nor anyone as... flamboyant as this man appeared to be. All he knew was Yeul, Caius and Lightning. But this guy was nothing like any of the people he had met here, and, after he had confirmed that he was lost. Is it really so obvious?
What the Hell.
Noel retained a neutral expression as he turned in time for the bartender to show back up, holding up a key.
"Here ye go, Mr. Kreiss. Rooms are on the house, so ye can get back on your feet."
Noel smiled and nodded in thanks, and, after a hearty pat on the back (which made Noel lose balance, slightly), the man was back into the pub/inn, as Noel turned and looked to Kuja. "Well, it's not so much obvious, but you look like you're new to the place, like me." Noel, couldn't put a finger on it, but something about this guy bugged him. It wasn't because of anything bad, per se, but his mannerisms didn't strike Noel as the mannerisms of someone who was lost. The two he had met int he forest didn't remember anything about their pasts, but Noel did. He wondered if this guy remembered anything at all, and was curious if he was like Aerith or Vivi.
"I wonder, do you remember anything from where you're at? I don't think you're from where I am. I'd remember you." he crossed his arms, keeping the neutral, friendly smile on his face, despite the fact that this guy just plan gave Noel the willies.
Noel had no problem trusting new people, but this was the first time any such thing had stood out like this to him. The man's actions and voice were pleasant and kind, but his eyes, gave away more than that. But, instead of fear, or succumbing to distrust as others would, this made Noel increasingly curious about the guy. If he couldn't find Serah, maybe he could learn about how he was sent here instead of the past on Pulse. Rumors circulated about specific people, but he hadn't heard of anyone with light pink hair with or anything like that.
People had begun filing into the street as Noel looked around, letting out a slight sigh. He wasn't used to crowds, or people, in general, and he didn't particularly enjoy being in them, though he supposed it would be something he'd have to get used to. He looked back towards the new guy and extended a hand. "My name's Noel Kreiss." he said, looking towards Kuja, wondering how this guy would react.
From the looks of the boy, it became quite clear that Kuja had unnerved him. That was both highly expected and difficult to avoid. The mere sight of him had often sent the men of Gaia into something of an anxiety. Kuja had lost track of how many times he had been mistaken for female. If he wished to stay inconspicuous, it was best not even attempt to pass for the masculine. Between the gentle curves of his face, the delicate sweep of his hair, and the rather noticeable bulge of hips, the average Gaian would rarely mistake Kuja for male -- or at least, a human one. In fact, it was not Kuja's fault that his body so blurred the lines between concepts of gender. Compared to humans, genomes had been designed with a far lesser degree of sexual dimorphism. It also did not help that the denial of his tail required loose fabrics and skirts, nor that the clothes that fitted him best (those modeled after Terran designs, that was) were considered femininely provocative among humans. If he was to add all of the strikes against him, he was left with only two options: dress against his nature and sex, or attract unease from men not confident enough to accept him. He chose the second option. He had wasted more than enough of his life lurking in obscurity.
The swordsman was polite about it at least. After being addressed by the innkeeper (as a "Mr. Kreiss," Kuja noted), the boy turned to him nervously. "Well, it's not so much obvious, but you look like you're new to the place, like me."
Another person new to this world? How intriguing. At the risk of sounding over-invested, Kuja might have even called this some kind of gift of fortune. Just as he had been most desperate to learn more of his predicament, another of these famed "new people" had stopped him on the street. The coincidences were staggering.
"New. Yes, I suppose you could call it that," Kuja sighed. Sometimes a vague answer proved best as it let the other party fill out their own assumptions. Should he prove wrong, this "Mr. Kreiss" would tell him so and Kuja would be able to adjust accordingly.
That is what he thought, at least, until the boy brought up the awkward issue of memory.
Did Kuja remember anything? How could he not? He remembered his beginnings of life: that unending silence, a great black shadow, and that accursed blue light. He remembered cool stone, unmoving water, and the restless shiftings of many-eyed abominations. All of it was so ingrained in his soul that he doubted he would ever forget even under the influence of magic, time, or the unyielding grip of death. Then there were Gaian matters which came to him less sharply, but still as vivid as any other. There was his house in Treno, his old room in Alexandria (which he had promptly lost after the tragic death of a certain queen), and the marble halls of his palace. His recollections of this time were tinted in royal violet and sparkling gold. It was a veneer of great opulence over the cruelest of hands. Yes, he remembered it all with utmost clarity.
So why did the question so unnerve him?
"I remember some things," he answered with more hesitance than he would have liked. "You say that I would not belong 'where you're from.' What did you mean by that, exactly?" His usual elegance had not left his voice, but it had faltered a little beneath the weight of his nerves. This talk of homelands and new environments left him with a certain distaste. It was too close to the conversation Kuja could never have -- the one he had promised himself he never would. Whether his words were a farce hardly mattered when they still stuck him like pins. He suddenly wished that the conversation would end.
"My name's Noel Kreiss," the boy concluded with an offering of his hand. "I'd noticed," Kuja would have liked to have said, but didn't. Instead, he smirked a little at the mostly unfamiliar gesture and then delicately took the hand extended towards him.
"A pleasure," Kuja returned, and then because it had not alarmed the shopkeeper, added, "My name is Kuja. You could call me something of a sorcerer." He ignored his usual flourish and bow for a wry smile. This was not the royal courts of Alexandria, nor was he in the mood for lavish expressions of sarcasm. His headache was building again.
Noel Kreiss had grown up, for the most part, alone. His judgement on other people stemmed from their very actions, the way they spoke, and how they held themselves, both casually and during certain situations. He had grown to trust Caius and Yeul, as well as Lightning, seeing valor, honor, and love in them, as people. Noel knew the difference between good and evil, he knew who the good people were, and who the bad people were.
This man just flat out confused Noel.
But, he retained the neutral expression as Kuja too his hand in greeting, giving his name, to which Noel replied in a nod and a genuine smile. However, the next words would pique more curiosity than suspicion in Noel, for he didn't know of Sorcery so much as the combative Magicka he was trained to use by Caius in his empty home. He lowered his hand and crossed his arms again, an interested look in his eyes as Kuja finished his sentence. "A sorcerer? This is the first time I've ever actually met one... I've heard stories about the magicka users on my homeworld, Pulse, and how strong they were... Though, I'm pretty sure your power doesn't stem from demonic supernatural monsters branding you, either..." further proof that Kuja wasn't from his world, at any time. The l'Cie were seen as monsters, themselves, and would hide their brands and their powers from others, back in the times of old.
But, in relation to where he was now, he was sure that when was no longer an object to him. He wasn't in the past or future of Pulse at all. He had spoken to people, brought up Etro, the Fal'Cie, everything that Caius had taught him about Pulse, and was met with confused or amused looks, usually complimented on his storytelling abilities.
He'd just take the compliment and move on.
He looked back into the pub, then back to Kuja. "How about we go get a table, or something? Maybe we can help each other out, being in similar situations." he offered, motioning behind him into the pub, wondering if the Sorcerer would accept his offer.
On Gaia, Kuja's unusual skills had gained him a particular title among the mage's circles. As the Gaians had only knowledge of white magic, Kuja's offensive magic had proven entirely foreign to them, and he had grown a reputation as not only a highly skilled healer, but as an expert sorcerer and craftsman of magical charms. Back then, his power had been a source of prestige and respect.
That did not appear to be the case for this boy.
Though Noel didn't seem disinterested, there was a certain caution about his words. For one, it seemed that magic was quite rare beyond whatever dimensional portal this boy had fallen through. He had never met any mages, and had only heard stories from his planet which he referred to as "Pulse." Finally, there was the rather awkward matter of his magic's origin. "I'm pretty sure your power doesn't stem from demonic supernatural monsters branding you," the boy said.
My. Well, as long as he was pretty sure.
"Ah, no," Kuja declined as politely as he could manage. "My magic is the result of years of training to harness the elemental properties of the planet." It was also the result of a meticulously constructed vessel and a Terran soul, but Kuja wasn't about to mention that. It seemed that identifying himself as a mage could be taken as a sign of demonic corruption on other planets. Silently, Kuja thanked whatever fortune had befallen him that Terra had chosen to feed upon Gaia rather than this "Pulse."
Thankfully, the boy did not seem overly perturbed. He gave a look back at the run-down tavern he had emerged from and then invited Kuja to join him. Normally, Kuja would not think of entering a place so beneath him, but with no particular direction and without any knowledge of his predicament, he could hardly refuse such a promising chance for research. He smiled as though the offer had been genuinely intriguing and gave an interested tilt of his head.
"I'm afraid I haven't the money at the moment, but if you wouldn't mind, I do think your conversation should prove enlightening." Despite his better interests, Kuja approached the tables that Noel had spoken of. The inside of the building matched its exterior well. Instead of stained bricks there was sagging oak. Instead of shady passer-by there were half-drunken crowds. The wooden bench proved sticky with several years-worth of spilled liquor. Kuja eyed it distastefully but sat nonetheless. He wondered what such a surface would do to the silks of his skirt. His tail bent at an awkward angle in its pocket to avoid his weight.
For all his years skirting Gaian society, Kuja was no stranger to its more crass crowds. His younger days had forced him into many Trenoese bars and oglop-ridden inns. Still, he had never been fond of it, and the environment felt particularly off-putting in his noble's guise. Between his perfect posture, golden-rimmed clothes, and wind-swept hair, Kuja could not have been more out of place. Kuja bit back a scowl at the table's grime-encrusted corners. He chose to set his sleeves upon his lap rather than touch anything more than necessary.
"You spoke of your 'homeworld,'" Kuja started once the boy had joined him. "You mean to say that you are not from this world then? How is that even possible?" Though Kuja had learned his own theories of inter-planetary transportation, it was best to act ignorant when searching for conflicting accounts. "And what of this 'Pulse?' How does it differ from here?" He would have asked about the boy's demonically corrupted mages, as well, but he didn't wish to dwell on it. The idea was so absurd that any questioning would have been far from polite.
He sat down at the table, leaning back in the chair as Kuja asked about his homeworld, where he was from. Noel considered this, considered whether or not he should really tell any details of where he came from, but... This was obviously another place entirely, with people dropping in and appearing at random. He wondered if this place amplified other's powers (such as his Ruinga, which he had surprisingly pulled off at full power without training with it), and what circumstances left it at that. He figured he might have taken time to get here, because he remembered going through the time gate with Mog, then a lot of blurry fog, then he was in the forest.
He decided to tell Kuja, figuring it wouldn't hurt anything to be honest, and, maybe with more knowledge about this Kuja, as well as sharing his information, maybe he could come up with a way to get to Pulse, find Serah, and complete his mission.
"Where I come from is a hopeless empty world. My entire race is mostly extinct, save for a couple of others that were with me. One died, while the other went insane and tried to kill me, and... This is going to sound nuts, probably, but, I went to a realm called Valhalla. There, a friend named Lightning had saved me from the crazy one, Caius, and sent me into a time gate to work with her sister to save Pulse." he finished the abridged version of his story, shrugging. "Instead of ending up where I was supposed to be, I ended up here, no sign of her sister, no sign of anyone else I knew. I plan on stocking up and searching around, but I have a feeling I won't find who I'm supposed to." he let his hands rest on his lap as he looked across to Kuja. "What about you? Do you remember where you're from?" he asked politely, thinking maybe this guy might have at least a theory as to why they were there.
Kuja had heard many crazy things in his life. He had come to accept without questioning that each planet was powered by a crystal, that all memory was stored in an extra-dimensional plane called Memoria, and that the exhausted souls of the dead could power machines. He had also been forced to listen to the useless quips of fake jesters, to the pretentious idlings of wealthy noblemen, and to anything that came out of the Queen's mouth. Yes, Kuja would say that he was more than capable of patience in the face of insanity.
This boy's rambling, however, was on an entirely different level of madness.
It started promising enough. Kuja could certainly relate to a "hopeless, empty world" far past its former glory. He could also empathize with being the last (or only) of one's kind. The sentiment landed so close to Kuja's own that perhaps had he been given time to brood on it, he might have begun thinking of pale blue light, of echoing silence, and of still waters. That would have inevitably shifted his mood for the worse, so perhaps it was best that the boy's story dropped abruptly into absolute absurdity. How could one possibly fall to nostalgia when so distracted by derision?
The boy spoke of Valhalla, battling gods, and time gates. It was all so ridiculous that Kuja could barely restrain a snort of laughter. How unfortunate that he had thought this boy worth his time. So this boy was saved by, what, some vengeful deity who reversed time? Kuja had it in good knowledge that time was a force which could not be meddled with. Now, if the boy had mentioned a dimensional disparity, or perhaps a difference in planets, that would be a different matter altogether. Such barriers could be bypassed with spells and technology. But time? Reversing time would mean disrupting the very stability of matter. A would-be time traveler would not find himself in another epoch, but rather, he would most likely explode. Kuja hid his smirk behind the back of his hand. This interrogation had proven completely and utterly useless.
"What about you? Do you remember where you're from?"
My, but what a loaded question. Between the overwhelming vagueness of it all and Kuja's propensity for deceit, he hardly knew how to answer. Instead of confronting the complicated and awkward truth, Kuja invented a past out of half-lies and faked sentiment. Words, he'd discovered, were just as effective in birthing new life as any marvel of magitechnology. "I don't remember nearly as much as I'd like. The world that I left was called Gaia. It was not nearly so advanced as this place. To be honest, I find the technology here quite overwhelming." Kuja allowed himself a look of almost embarrassment, though it was laughable. While this planet's advancements were bounds ahead of Gaia's, it held nothing to the complexities of Terran technology. Kuja likely could have dismantled and reinvented any of the machines that this world had to offer. "As I said before, I'm a mage. I've studied magic for most of my life, and I've employed its use for rich families willing to pay for my talents. I've also created charmed armor and weaponry."
That would do for the non-specifics of idle conversation, but he doubted that so little would prove acceptable in the face of a direct question. He pondered how to further twist the truth to his advantage. "I woke up in the desert here. I would have died if I hadn't been so skilled with magic." Well, that was certainly true. If he hadn't been the most powerful sorcerer the planet had ever seen, he would have been destroyed by that god-forsaken rock monster. "I don't remember how I got there. I feel as though something's missing -- like there is some great part of my life that I've yet to recall." Or perhaps some great part of his life that would be best not to divulge to strangers. Kuja glanced at the boy and sighed lightly. "I'm sorry. That's not very helpful, is it?"
Noel was, of course, curious to what Kuja would offer in terms of information regarding his home and how he possibly got here, but, it seemed as though not only did Kuja's memories get somewhat scrambled when he arrived, there were chunks of it missing... Which arose another question. Why did Noel remember everything? He listened intently to Kuja, and waited until he finished before speaking up again.
"Actually, that's a much bigger help than any of the local people have been. I remember everything, but there are people that have arrived with absolutely no clue who they were or even how they got the clothes on their back." he shrugged a little. "I guess all we can do is just find our way to our homes. I have a mission I have to see through... Finding a girl named Serah, so then maybe we can save my home." he looked over to Kuja. "Well, enjoy your stay here, the owner is nice enough to rent these rooms for free... I'm going to go see if I can find out something... anything about why I was brought here. Good luck to you, okay?" knowing that Kuja wasn't the small talk type, Noel wanted to take his leave and allow the mage to settle in and figure things out for himself. As of now, Noel had a mission... all he needed was to find out if Serah ended up here.
