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year 5, quarter 3
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It was business as usual at the aerodrome that day. There were passengers lounging about on velvet ottomans, waiting for their flights with liquor from the bar. Balthier had sat at the bar nearly half a dozen times prior, familiarizing himself with every door, passage, and port. The staff’s eyes slid over him now. A useful thing.
Today, he stood with his back to a wall and his arms crossed. An airship was parked outside a plated glass window. It was a personal vehicle owned by Marco Dubois, a young nobleman fond of indulgences at his father’s expense. As such, it had every convenience that money could buy. A state of the art sonar, optimized engines, efficient fuel capacity. As it happened, it could easily be piloted by a crew of two. Balthier hoped to cut that list down to one.
He waited near the receptionists’ desks until the next ship came in and a flood of weary travelers crowded the lobby. A stream of them found their way to the desks with complaints and requests and further check-ins. Balthier joined their line. It was best the receptionists had little time to spend on him.
Once he’d shifted forward, he was waved to the next available space, and he drifted towards it. ”How can I help you?” The receptionist’s eyes were tired. She wore a uniformed jacket that looked stiff on the sides and a silver badge of her merit. Balthier’s eyes trailed over her before he tilted his head, looking disinterestedly to the side.
”I’m to service port thirteen,” he said. When she raised his eyebrows, he produced a neatly folded paper from his pocket. She took it carefully, skimming it with a doubtful look.
”You’re a mechanic?” she said.
”Something of the sort.” He glanced to her, eyes sharp for suspicion. ”It’s a contractual matter. I’ve been requested by Master Dubois personally.”
And so he had -- or so the paper said. Balthier had watched him come and go from the port for a week, and it wasn’t hard to follow him to the nearest tavern. Once there, Balthier had kept to himself until he was certain the young man was alone, and then he’d approached with two drinks in his hand. An offer of free liquor was enough to earn him conversation, and from there it wasn’t hard to coax the man into a game of coin.
The gamble had worked. Balthier had a contract already lined up ensuring payment from the losing party on a round of cards. Some vague wording and a drunken half-read was all it took to secure his signature. Balthier had left the encounter five hundred gil richer and with the man’s agreement in hand.
The receptionist squinted at the signature. She glanced from the contract to him and then rifled through a sea of papers in her drawer. After a moment, she pulled out a contract of her own, laying it flat next to Balthier’s and comparing the signatures closely. After a moment she nodded and looked back to him. ”Well, everything seems to be in order,” she said. ”We don’t keep his keys on hand.”
”I shan’t need them,” he said. He smirked as he returned the contract to his pocket. ”Now if you could open that gate...”
But the receptionist had lost interest in him. She called over an attendant and told him to open port thirteen before calling over the next customer. And here he’d been expecting trouble. He followed the attendant and waited. He would almost think he was being played.
The ship herself was a beautiful thing. Six rider capacity, sleek build, four anti-gravity engines. Balthier slid through the side entrance, dismissing the attendant with a wave. The accents were gaudy, he thought -- the upholstery, a pompous velvet, but these things could be easily modified. What the airship needed was a new coat of paint and perhaps a nice pair of guns.
”Now for that ignition.” Balthier settled in the pilot’s seat, breathing a sigh of relief. He’d itched for too long without a pair of wings beneath him. He hadn’t any time to waste, however, and he allowed himself only that moment before he got to work. He could appreciate the finer things once he was skyborn. For now, he had to focus.
He’d read manuals of the city’s aeronautics. He knew the basic layout, the engine schematics, and the fuel (composed of some magical components -- a strange thing, he thought). He had likewise studied the craft’s flight mechanisms, but every ship was different, and he couldn’t really know a thing without a wrench in his hand. He removed the dashboard’s lower plate, setting it carefully aside as he considered the field of wiring beneath.
Now, now. Which of you is the lucky pair?
He tested the components for some time, comparing them to the schematics he’d memorized twice over. He lost himself so thoroughly in his work that he didn’t so much as look up until he heard a commotion through the plated glass. He spared the aerodrome a glance over the dashboard to see a man yelling furiously at the receptionist’s desk. A man with a familiar face.
Marco Dubois.
”And there’s the company.” Balthier grimaced and let his hands do their work with an almost careless abandon. The guards were already gathering at Dubois’ request. He had a minute -- maybe two. The time for caution was lost to the winds. Now there was only the gamble.
”It wouldn’t be much of a heist without a daring escape, now would it?”
[attr="class","text-area"] Fran seemed to have arrived a few moments too late.[break][break]
It would be easy to see why they had become partners in their past life. Great minds think alike, as the saying goes. There were many similarities between Zephon and Ivalice. She saw similarities between the great cities, and mostly kept to herself among the crowds of Torensten. She had come to live her life in a pattern; playing cards to earn coin, never sleeping in the same place twice, never ripping off the same person twice. However, her reputation was beginning to look a bit sullied. It was hard to blend in here, since most were not used to Viera or had ever seen one before. Wherever she went, she caused heads to turn and most men seemed intimidated by her stature. Of course, she used this to her advantage, and made nice with some of the more affluent citizens of the city. It wasn't difficult to do, and it did not require any sacrifice of her morals. Most just wanted to learn about the mysterious rabbit-woman and were more intrigued the more she grew quiet.[break][break]
Enter Marcus Dubois. A socialite who had nothing to lose because he had nothing of his own. He was intrigued with her from the start, and even moreso because he was used to getting what he wanted... But he was not successful with Fran. It was a fragile game of cat and mouse, where she'd give him just a small taste of something a night; perhaps her name, or her favorite drink. But that was all. She'd deny every advance he gave her, and he was not afraid to flaunt his wealth to try and win her over. The only reason she stuck with it was because he mentioned an airship. With an airship of her own, she could travel more freely and go back to her comfortable ways of piracy. It was only a matter of time.[break][break]
How she had not caught sight of Balthier in all this was truly a mystery. She'd linger near the bar and catch Dubois' attention just long enough to nurse a cocktail, and then she'd meander off into the night. Eventually, he offered a beautiful sunset ride in his airship, complete with a three-course meal and exquisite wine. That was her opportunity. Fran had shrugged nonchalantly at the offer, and agreed without much enthusiasm; but her agreement was all he needed.[break][break]
The day had come to finally get aboard the airship; only when they got to the port, the receptionist had broken the news that the airship was to be serviced today. Had Dubois forgotten? In his drunken states, he gave a dashing young man entrance to his airship for repairs. Angered at his drunken mistake, he grew increasingly loud and gathered his guards. In the hubbub, Fran slid from Marco's side and watched with interest as all this went down. When there was an opening, she'd make her move and board the airship... But with all eyes on them, it was not safe to do so just yet.
[attr="class","ooc-area"]reunion time finally! — [break] @balthier
He had always felt a strange thrill at the pressure of a ticking clock. It wasn’t that he sought it out -- quite the contrary in fact -- but there was something about the encroaching threat of mortal peril that sharpened the mind to a fine point. What had taken him nearly twenty minutes of caution now came into sharp focus. It was do or die. And more often than not, Balthier tended to do.
He brought his pliers to the ignition wires with surgical precision. One slip of the hand, and it was over. He felt his tongue clenched between his teeth as he squinted at his adversary. He found his mark and twisted the tumbler as though moved by the ignition.
The engine turned. Balthier twisted harder. One spark. Two. ”A stubborn thing.” It sputtered but didn’t catch. Do or die.
He heard the shuddering of the gate. Voices. ”Come out now. There’s no use in hiding.” The familiar whine of Dubois cut them off.
”Thief! I want his head! Do your jobs and kill him already!”
The dock made a poor battleground, particularly for firearms. Crouched beneath the dashboard, he’d have a hard time so much as pulling it, and he wouldn’t dream of shooting through such a beautiful ship. If he didn’t finish, he’d have his back against the wall. It might have been too late as it was.
The engine spun. Once, twice, three times, and then caught in a low hum. The lights blinked on in a subtle blue, and above him, he heard the buzz of monitors sparking to life. Balthier smirked. ”Really cutting it to the wire, aren’t we?” He threw his pliers to the side, pushed himself into the passenger’s seat, and then-
There was a blade at his neck.
Balthier stiffened, following it up to the hand that held it. It was a security officer, strong-chinned, slightly gruff with a shadow of stubble. His eyes were hard. ”Get out of the vehicle.”
Behind him, the childish screeching of Dubois. ”What are you waiting for? Kill him!”
No way out. Gun pressed against his back. Balthier sighed and leaned back, hands raised. Better to be taken alive than dead.
”Just my luck.” He scowled. ”A lovely day for an arrest, isn’t it?”
[attr="class","text-area"] Fran almost grew impatient. Dubois, the fool, remained on the airship decks and screeched his orders to his men. Meanwhile, she could hear the airship struggling for breath. Had she been inside, it might have taken off sooner, and without those goons inside-- but then the slow hum of its engines filtered through her leporine ears. Something was happening below deck, and she aimed to figure out what. Dubois dared not move from his post, while two of his guards remained by his side. One was missing.
[break][break]
With her stealthy stride, she made her way to the other side of the airship. It wasn't a very large one, yet there were alternate routes of getting inside; namely, a vent at the top that was meant for emergency situations. This might as well be an emergency situation. She wanted this airship, and her plan had been compromised. What more could warrant an emergency?
[break][break]
Fran gripped the metal of the ship and began to twist. It made loud creaking sounds, but not loud enough to be heard over Dubois' shrieking and the engine's hum. She just had to do this swiftly, else someone see her atop the ship. With a few twists, the door came open, and she swiftly dropped down into what seemed to be the middle of an arrest. She only took but a moment to gather intel of her surroundings before using the small distraction she had created to get the knife away from Balthier's skin. Yes, she took note of how gaudy the airship was inside. Yes, she took note that had she been anything but careful, the knife could have sliced through skin. However, after she dropped down, the guard seemed very confused; easily confused. In a matter of seconds, her lithe and armored leg lifted to kick the guard in his ribs. If the momementum she created was enough, he'd stumble, the knife coming loose in his grip. When Fran's leg made contact with the ground again, she shifted her weight to allow the other leg to round about and knock him off balance even more.
[break][break]
She made sure to do most of this silently. From outside, a scuffle could be heard but it was hard to tell the victor from outside. That would also buy some time as Dubois and his men stared confusedly at the open door. No one was emerging... Just what was happening?
In that moment, Balthier had forgotten the primary lesson of pirating -- always expect the unexpected. Still, in hindsight, he doubted he could have ever expected what happened next nor the identity of his sudden savior.
There he was, hands raised, head tilted in a kind of casual disregard when a figure dropped into the seat beside him. In a second, the blade was twisted away from his neck, and Balthier blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. A metal-clad leg extended like a jack-knife, nearly skewering the guard with its four inch heel. The man cried out with a startled ”Oof!” as he stumbled back, sword skittering onto the dock behind him. Balthier turned his attention from his assailant to his unexpected ally, and his heart skipped a beat. Fran.
How she’d gotten there, Balthier didn’t know. How she’d found him, Balthier likewise had no idea, but the sight of her was a welcome one to say the least. He didn’t waste time on sentiment. Their reunion could wait.
”Right on cue,” he said, thrusting himself into the pilot’s seat and quickly taking hold of the controls. They were different than any Ivalician design, but that was where his dive into the system’s manuals had paid off. Of course, the theory and the practice always had some level of disconnect, but if he could only grasp the basics…
”Keep them off our tail. There might be a slight delay.”
With that Balthier poured himself into his work. He trusted Fran, and knew their roles well enough. She was his partner. He had no need to distract himself with the guards’ petty squabbles when his particular skill set was in order.
After a moment, he found the right button, engaging the anti-gravity module and bringing them to a slow hover. He took the wheel, scanning the airspace with a deft eye. From the radio, he heard panicked voices. ”What are you doing? We haven’t given you clearance!” Balthier switched it off, choosing instead to navigate by sight alone. It was a dangerous maneuver, but really, wasn’t that half the fun of it?
It was a straight shot towards south-south-west. His eyes sharpened. ”Hold on,” he said and then shoved the lever forward for speed.
They shot out of the aerodrome with enough force to thrust Balthier back in his seat, grip tight on the wheel. He brought them to a higher altitude, eyes narrowed as they gained velocity. They needed to move, and they needed out of air space before anyone could follow in pursuit. It seemed that they’d sufficiently taken the authorities by surprise, however. It didn’t take long for Balthier to ease his way to a stop. With the job done, he fell back into his seat, eyes closed.
”I’ve about had enough of daring escapes,” he said before glancing at his partner. Whatever relief he’d felt at her sudden entrance came back in full force now that he had the time to think. Somehow, some way, Fran had found him again. He supposed it wasn’t much of a surprise. She’d always had a way of sniffing out trouble.
”I suppose I should thank that nose of yours,” he said. ”Another minute and it would have meant a jailbreak.” He sat up, stretching his arm out over his head. He hadn’t realized how stiff he’d gotten, crouching beneath the dashboard with his tools at a precise angle. That was another day’s work for the books.
”How are you finding our own little patch of Nowhere? Not quite the most charming of places. I’d rather make it a brief acquaintanceship.”
The smallest flicker of a smile graced her lips. Finally, reunited with Balthier, the first and only goal she really had. But any heartwarming sentiments would have to wait, for she quickly regained her composure and kept a look-out just like he had suggested. As the engine began to whirr, Fran kicked whatever equipment the cronies had left on the ship out of the door and she quickly closed it behind her. Looking up, she saw the hatch still open. With her height, it only took a small, gaudy bench to stand on in order to peek out. A few of the guards who had been left on the dock were now scrambling to grab hold of the hovering airship, perhaps to weigh it down so it would be harder to take off. Fran knelt down to grab a glass, which was then chucked at their heads. She continued this with various objects (and sure to stay clear of the wine aboard) until Balthier seemed to have a good understanding of the controls. Obeying his words, Fran nodded and closed the hatch, taking a seat just beside him.[break][break]
This airship certainly was not like the ones from Ivalice. Very crude, not smooth at all. Fran gripped the edge of the chair as the airship shot up and out into the air. There'd be a fix for that somewhere, she was sure of it. That'd have to wait until they were out of danger, however, then she could tinker with this airship as much as she pleased.[break][break]
As they flew farther and farther from the aerodome, and hopefully out of harm's way, Fran finally released her grip on the seat, unaware of how tightly she had held on. She visibly relaxed, her amber eyes landing on Balthier now, catching his gaze. "Then perhaps don't get yourself in such situations," she quipped, though she smiled lightly to show she had meant no ill-intent.[break][break]
"My nose and intuition," she closed her eyes and also gave a stretch. The cabin was not the biggest, but it was cozy. It'd have to be enough. When her arms came down, she ran her hand over the velvety exterior of the seats. Just like Balthier's sentiment, she too thought they would definitely need to be redone... Though she did enjoy the softness of the fabric. She continued to idly stroke the velvet when he had asked her about her experiences here... to which she wrinkled her nose. "I agree," she finally lifted her hand. Fran turned her full attention to him, her eyes inquisitive. "Do you know where we are?" Her solitary nature made it difficult to know exactly what situation she found herself in, but the whispers she heard around made her believe they definitely weren't in Ivalice anymore.
Balthier and Fran are like the most unfazed people in the world
I play the leading man, who else?
Balthier had never cared much for other people. At best, they were an interesting distraction in the back of a weathered bar. At worst, they were a chain that sought to clip his wings. Balthier had never been one for familiar faces, but as he fully appreciated the sight of Fran beside him, he knew that this was an exception. Because he was relieved -- or at least pleased to see her. Even rogues were capable of attachments, he supposed.
Her eyes were cool. It was nearly impossible to say if she shared the same sense of fondness, but that was the way with Viera, wasn’t it? It took a great surge of emotion to so much as crack her armor. He took that slight smile as proof of agreement. ’It’s good to see you.’
”My nose and intuition.” Fran stretched out as far as their cramped quarters would allow. He had no idea what tension she’d accumulated from her little stunt. However she’d found him, he doubted it had been easy work. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of their current predicament.
”I agree,” she said before turning to him. Her eyes were focused and intent. Quite the intensity for a Viera. ”Do you know where we are?”
A fine question. Balthier leaned back until his back hit the seat and then kept leaning as far as it would stretch. His arms were crossed. ”On the wrong side of Nowhere, I’d say.” He glanced at her. ”From the sounds of it, we’re not the only ones. This country has a way of attracting visitors, it seems. And not a soul knows what to make of it.”
His finger twitched tighter into his sleeve. He wasn’t nervous exactly and certainly not scared. As for homesickness, that wasn’t like him at all. He’d never claimed any one nation as his own, and so there was nothing to miss.
He was confused, that was all. And perhaps just a tad concerned.
”But we have the skies, and there’s plenty of gil for the taking.” Balthier gestured towards the window and the scattered clouds at their sides. ”I’ve never cared much where it’s found.”
It was relieving to know he had at least some semblance of an answer for her. So there were others from... different places? Other visitors like themselves... There was much and more she wanted to know, but the answers would not be there for her. A simple nod of her head showed she understood their predicament, and she didn't seem all that hurt by it. Besides, she too had nowhere to call home. Once she had cast away her tribe and the Wood... There was no place to call home anymore.[break][break]
A light surge of adrenaline coursed through her, replacing her nearly somber attitude at once. They had the skies. The whole of this new world was at the tip of their wings, ready to pillage and raid. Fran felt her skin prickle with anticipation. There really was nothing like a bit of pirating to make one feel alive.[break][break]
The lithe Viera leaned back in her seat and did her best to cross one leg over the other. "Where shall we begin?" she asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice. There should never be a dull moment in a sky pirate's life, and now they could not stop their course lest they be captured and that just wouldn't do! For now it was just one city that knew their names. Fran smirked at the thought of gaining infamy like before. It was only a matter of time.
Fran’s eyes lit up at the mention of their piracy. He saw the way her ears subtly shifted, how she tensed with a momentary excitement and then leaned back, legs crossed. She had as wild of a spirit as he did -- perhaps more so. Perhaps it was her time confined to the Wood that she seldom spoke of but that came with its own kind of pain. Perhaps she, like him, had spent too long living at the behest of others and their unwieldy expectations. He had never asked her, and she had never offered an answer. Still, there was a kind of understanding between them. They were kindred spirits, he knew, bonded together by the unbreakable lure of risk and reward. To them, the skies were endless. More so now, he supposed.
Whatever tension he’d felt was gone now. Simply seeing her with all of her passion put him at ease. Since the moment he’d found himself in this strange and impossible world, there had been a sense within him that he couldn’t shake. Not homesickness exactly, but a kind of anxiety that had told him that this was all subtly wrong in a way that he could never quite put his finger on. Funny. It seemed all he’d needed was a partner by his side.
”Where shall we begin?” she asked. It was simple. Direct. Balthier stretched his arms out over his head before taking the helm again.
”Well first, I’d rather like to shake them off our tail.” He checked the windows and their trajectory on the sonar. The dashboard was cluttered and unfamiliar, but it would do fine. ”That Dubois is a nasty piece of work. I’d feel safer with a nation between us.”
He revved the engines back to their maximum capacity. Their air space was clear. He glanced to Fran, smirking faintly. ”Best to hold on,” he said. ”The engine’s a tad touchy.”
He did one final sweep of their surroundings and then accelerated.
It was nothing like their take off. This time, he had no pressure and no real sense of urgency. This ship was at a commercial level and hadn’t been built for tight aerial maneuvers. Really, Balthier could have flown it blindfolded if it wasn’t for its foreign mechanics. The engine was delicate. The slightest increase of pressure would send them rocketing out of the sky.
Once they’d reached a steady speed, Balthier leaned back, hand still at the wheel. He lifted his eyes thoughtfully. Where would they begin? He’d spent enough time in these lands to have familiarized himself with them -- to a point at least. The life of a pirate was one without roots or reservations.
”I have the gil for an inn,” Balthier said. ”I’d like to catch up.” Now wasn’t that a familiar thought? How many nights had he spent in the back of a crowded tavern, sipping whiskey with Fran at his side? They hadn’t needed to say much, but simply her presence had been enough. Even pirates needed something to ground them, he supposed.
”After that, I know a nobleman in Provo whose vaults could do with a little renovation. Then there are the tombs of the Reikinto Sands.” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction. ”New world, same skies,” he said. ”There’s always another catch.”
It mattered not if they were in a new world, away from Ivalice and all of their past. Balthier could make anywhere feel like home. She seemed to visibly relax more and more by the second, even though the pair were being pursued. She just had that much trust in his skills.
The Viera snorted as he mentioned Dubois. "He is all bark and no bite," she stated, remembering not so fondly of the time she spent with him. At least she got free drinks from the ordeal. "Yet he is powerful and has friends in many places." Now that was something to be concerned about. Dubois himself was an imbecile but he knew when to hire hands to do his dirty work.
She wanted to cut the conversation about him short. For a moment, she seemed rather pleased about Balthier's intel and even cracked a bit of a smile. "Someone has been doing their research," she nodded, impressed. Yet it was something she had expected of him. He was the heart of the operation, and she was the sidekick and the braun. That wasn't to say Balthier couldn't fight back as well, but there was a reason she was known to her people as a master of weapons.
After a bit of stretching, Fran leaned forward to take a better look at the console and controls of this foreign technology. "It would be wise to fix this up," she stated, a clawed finger brushed gently against a smooth button, "Lest we get stranded." Such a task could be done while they caught up, perhaps. Though a proper warm bed and some spirits seemed like a good idea too. She responded to such a suggestion with a light smile. It was already starting to feel as if things were all back to normal.
