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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,bulk] He had told Mikoto that he had business. It would take him approximately a week, he said, and she’d taken it as truth and continued her business. She was interested in salvaging the ruins of Kahiko Valley, thinking they might in some way be useful. Kuja saw no reason to stop her even when he noticed a strange flier clutched in her hand. What on all of Gaia was a ’Robo Rumble?’
It didn’t matter. She left the city in an airship. Kuja left it on the back of his dragon.
They both had places to be, it seemed.
At first, Kuja had only meant to verify the accuracy of Hilda’s spells. He instructed the mechanical bird to find her and, rather than let it do so freely, kept it restrained in a bubble of magic to use as a kind of compass. Wherever it wanted to fly was the direction they would take – namely North. They flew that way for some time, dragon, bird, and sorcerer, until they stopped to rest for the night outside of Provo. The next morning, they took to the skies again, reaching the more mountainous regions of Provo’s upper border by that evening. It was then that Kuja began to doubt Hilda’s abilities.
Certainly, the noblewoman hadn’t left for Sonora of all places. Certainly, it must have been a bug in the magic or some kind of mistake. Either that or perhaps…
…Perhaps Lady Hilda was in need of aid.
He refused to let his mind linger on that particular possibility, driven by sheer curiosity instead. Where would the bird take him, he wondered? And to whom?
The chill of the night told him that he was ill-prepared to find out. With the changing of the seasons, Sonora could turn deadly in its darkest, coldest nights particularly along the peaks of the mountains. As much as he hated to admit it, a change in wardrobe might have been in order.
It wasn’t as though he’d freeze to death, he thought as he perused through the offerings of a tailor on the Sonoran border. His body was was fairly resistant to such things, and his magic would sustain him in even the harshest of environments, but then his thoughts would drift to his last foray in the mountains – of foul, shivering moods and out of season avalanches – and he would continue looking for something that he could make do with in the colder climates. There was nothing designed for him, of course. Nothing in his preferred Terran styles which seemed so strange and lewd to the people Gaia and Zephon alike. He would have to expose his tail. There was simply no getting around it. Even with his usual illusions cast upon it, the fabric of most skirts would ruffle strangely over its invisible form – not to mention something which required a hole cut through it.
He decided on an eclectic mix of outfits which didn’t bother him too terribly much. It was in a Provoan style which wouldn’t have looked too far out of place for young, aristocratic men on the streets of Lindblum, colored primarily with white and black with gold embellishments, and it suited him fine despite the undershirt covering his midriff (uncomfortable, but necessary for the colder climate) and the stiff fabric of the jacket (the high collar and cravat suited him at least) and the unfamiliar fit of the pants.
Oh how he hated pants.
But the entire point had been to cover more of himself and there weren’t any skirts that he liked and his tail would draw enough eyes as it was so why not look dreadfully masculine for the day? He’d fit in better, visibly human or not, and for the time, he had little desire for prying eyes.
It would be a short trip, at least.
His dragon took him across the border into Sonora. She seemed fond of the mountainous ridges and valleys, and he made a mental note to lead her to the wilder territory to hunt on the way back. He himself had very little love for the region. The alpine trees were beautiful in their own way – like a multicolored carpet spread across the earth below – and he supposed that the horizon was stunning if he cared to admire it. It could have been lovely if it wasn’t from his particular wind-swept vantage point. The extra clothes helped ward off the chill but he longed for the desert’s dry air.
The mechanical bird led them to some kind of tourist’s destination nestled within the mountains. Kuja let his dragon descend in lazy spirals, not really caring about the worry it would cause. They landed on a cliffside overlooking the place, and Kuja sat there for some time, watching it. There were travelers and families about as well as fishermen, hikers, hunters, and rather harried looking guards, tensely looking to the skies. Sitting on the hill was a cozy looking lodge with light spilling from its high windows. The bird insisted that he’d find Hilda there, and he had no reason to disbelieve it. She must have been on vacation then or perhaps she hoped to align herself with some new nobleman, levying her charms for power in the only way she knew how. He only needed to tie his letter to the bird, let it fly, and then be on his way.
But he didn’t. Instead, he merely watched the place – an unseen threat lurking amongst the shadows of the waning daylight. A thought occurred to him then and he slid gracefully from his dragon’s back.
”Stay,” he ordered carelessly, and she shifted her feet, more than happy for her vantage point over the valley. One float spell later, and he’d descended from the cliffside and started across the grounds.
Why was he here?
Why, to give Hilda her letter.
And why had he chosen to do it in person?
For no reason in particular.
Perhaps it was because the lodge looked terribly inviting, warm and secluded on its hill. Perhaps he was tired from sitting on the back of his dragon and longed to sit somewhere warm and out of reach of the wind’s chill touch. It was most certainly not for Hilda’s company, and yet something strange fluttered within him as he stepped into the lobby and finally released the bird from its magical prison. He watched it take flight, gliding up to the lodge’s vaulted ceiling before descending in a graceful arch towards the windows on the opposite side of the hall. There were a few armchairs clustered there, facing the glass, and sitting at one of them was Hilda.
She was dressed differently – not quite as elegant or elaborate as he was more familiar with – but it was undoubtedly her. He felt his tail swish across the floor behind him.
Now he had no choice but to approach. Now that the bird had already reached her and he still had her letter.
Would she think that he’d been following her? Or perhaps she’d suspect he’d come to kidnap her again? His tail swished faster, and he willed it to stop. People were staring.
His heels clicked across the hall. Along one side of the room was a table serving some kind of hot drinks. Along the other was a vast, cavernous fireplace. He passed it all, stopping several feet away from Hilda so as not to accidentally sneak up behind her. She was sitting beside a cup of something thick and dark, and he hardly wanted her to spill it over herself.
”You look well,” he said simply, crossing his arms. ”I hope I’m not interrupting.”
[attr=class,bulk] She calmed as he spoke. Good. That meant he didn’t have to deal with her emotions – whatever they might be. He could still feel them burrowed deep within her psyche, but they were repressed for now which meant he could look away and focus on himself. He didn’t know what he would have said to her if his hand had been forced.
’So sorry that my impending death is an inconvenience for you. Such a toll it must have taken! I could hardly imagine.’
No. Best to sit quietly on the matter and keep to the matter at hand. When were they to start?
”As soon as possible, I suppose.” He’d thought too long and too hard tonight. He’d felt more than he should have as well. He’d heard that confiding in someone was meant to feel as though a weight was lifted off of one’s shoulders, but he felt quite the opposite in fact. His anxiety had stretched him to his breaking points. With the pressure lessened, he felt tired. Deflated, really. There was nothing to fill the hollow space his panic had left behind.
”What if it has already come to pass?” Mikoto went on. ”And you are no longer under its effect once coming here?”
”A nice thought. Though hardly practical.” He leaned his cheek against the back of his hand, eyes half closed. ”The possibility has occurred to me, but it necessitates the existence of some extrasensory force with a willful cognition. It is certainly possible that I’ve been revived free of any such conditions, but why should my body not be recreated in full, limitations included? One would have to assume that the force actively chose to free me of it, and at that point there are so many assumptions layered upon assumptions that the entire premise becomes nothing more than delusion. If such a thing had come to pass then we should proceed as though it hadn’t. There would be no way of knowing either way.”
How long had it been since he’d last slept? Three days? That felt about right.
He yawned. ”This has all been exciting enough, but I think I’ve exhausted my thoughts for now. It is rather late, isn’t it?” Nearing four in the morning if his calculations of the moon’s positioning were accurate. Not far from dawn. ”I might return. You’re free to do as you wish.”
He stood. There was something about the air between them that didn’t feel right. As though something had been left unsaid.
He paused, considering that strange space, before he added, ”This has been helpful. Certainly more so than if I’d stayed locked in my room. I suppose I should thank you.”
He lifted the bag of miscellaneous treats she’d collected. They were a kind gesture if nothing else. ”I’ll let you know if any of these ’displease me.’” His lips flickered with the shadow of a smirk. ”I think I’d like to see how you’d trick them. They have such strange customs, don’t they?”
His eyes drifted to the silver light of the moon. ”Are you coming along?”
[attr=class,bulk] For a long time, Mikoto said nothing. Kuja felt the mood shift. He didn’t need his genome senses to see how her dread consumed her, but he could have, if he wished, felt it with his eyes closed. She was frightened in a way that he knew too well and yet couldn’t quite understand. It was his death they spoke of – not hers. Yet she spoke as though their fortunes were reversed.
When finally she spoke, it was with a question rather than an answer. ”What would you do if you did know?”
There was that fear again, creeping reluctantly into her usual monotone. Oh dear. Did she fear what vengeance he might enact? Kuja’s eyes lifted to the sky, and he said nothing for he had no answer to give. What would he do? That depended on the information he received, didn’t it? And on the ever shifting tides of his mood.
There was silence between them. Mikoto was the one to break it.
Kuja listened. He tried his best to shut down his heart and all the fear and dread which stirred there, sparking his panic and clouding his judgment. This was a matter of too great importance to leave to impulse. He would lead with his rational mind. His scientific mind. He must first process the information then analyze it against its surrounding context and finally reach his conclusions.
Process. Analyze. Conclude.
What were the raw facts?
Garland had spoken to Mikoto far more than expected. She knew him by that reputation – willful and defiant yet too efficient to terminate outright. It was exactly the position in which he had hoped to place himself so that he could buy the time he needed to maneuver out from under Garland’s thumb. Yet Garland knew that he could not be controlled. So he had…
The words slipped away like raindrops in a fog. ’Physical limiters.’
Process. He needed to keep listening.
She spoke of his work and of Garland’s suspicions. She told him of her creation and the meaning of her existence. There was some small, insignificant part of him that felt a strange satisfaction at Zidane’s apparent expendability. That was something that they shared in essence if not in scale. Not that Zidane would have cared. He was Gaian at heart, after all.
Mikoto would replace him when his limit was met. That limit was the exact time when Zidane came of age with his power. What did that mean? Could it be…?
Kuja forced himself to breathe. Every moment was a struggle against the two raging beasts – fear and dread – which fought for control beneath the surface. Fear longed for the slick touch of blood beneath his nails. Dread opined that they should burrow away in some dark, safe place where the world could move without them. And there was his rational mind, caught between the two and wrangling them like they were feral dogs on leashes made of ash.
But it wasn’t his panic which broke the surface. It was, to his eternal surprise, Mikoto’s.
Perhaps they were affecting each other – his wilder emotions setting fire to hers and vice versa. He felt her magic lash out, uncontrolled and untamed, and he felt himself wince as his own threatened to do the same. The stone bench beneath them crept with slick ice. Electricity crackled about them in short bursts of light. Mikoto raised her voice, her throat thick with tears.
”I won’t let it happen!” she shouted. ”I am looking into a solution. But human technology is crude and slow.”
Strange. Wasn’t he supposed to be the emotional one?
He waved his hand as though swatting a fly. ”Quiet,” he said. ”I’m trying to think.”
And he couldn’t think if his mind spiraled wildly into questions about her. What had she tried? Why did she care? All of it was nothing but a distraction welling like the untamed sea of her magic threatening to spill over. It was hard enough to focus through the distractions of his own heart, let alone hers.
”I’ve had my theories,” he said slowly. ”At a base level, there are two possibilities. In the first, I was meant from my conception to be discarded. I was a prototype only, and he coded an expiration into my very construction. This was the more problematic of the two as it would mean that this body is itself flawed and its fate could not be corrected short of finding a new vessel.
”In the second possibility, he made me with a genome’s usual immortality and then at some later date decided to install a failsafe in reaction to my nature. This was the less dire of the two. What has been given could, theoretically, be removed.”
He paused. It felt good to speak through his thoughts. They came easier now through the maze of his conflicting emotions. He would speak. Mikoto would listen.
”You said that he added ‘limiters’ only after I threatened him with my individuality. That confirms it to be the second. If I had to guess, it would be a direct consequence of stranding Zidane on Gaia.” That would have been his final opportunity at least. After that, Kuja had lived his own life in exile and disgrace. Such a punishment indeed.
”When I was informed of my limitations, I was told only that I would die ’soon.’” He scowled. ”’Soon.’ Such a maddeningly vague descriptor. What could it mean to the mind of an immortal soul thousands of years old? It could have been anything. Though it is far more precise to guess when he would have considered Zidane of age. Was it a specific date? Or did he somehow link our souls so that one would respond to the other?”
That would explain why Kuja hadn’t expired yet. Could he go on forever if Zidane never appeared in their strange new reality? But such an explanation seemed more complicated than was likely the case. A date was far simpler and easier to install in a being already living and sentient. Kuja tilted his head and pressed his thumb to his lips thoughtfully.
”I need to know what he did to me,” he muttered. ”There must be some tests that would reflect the change. My biology is different than most, but if we used you as a control…”
His thoughts were whirring along one after the other. Here was a problem that could be solved. And he was a master schemer.
”Would you mind?” he asked. ”There might be some scans that are difficult to run on myself given the present magitechnological landscape.”
[attr=class,bulk] Oh. It was from some strange local custom then. Kuja raised his eyebrow at her explanation and wondered if it was truly as absurd as she made it sound. It sounded like something meant for children. Which she was, he supposed. In her own way.
”They think souls eat each other?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. ”Their superstitions are endlessly amusing. I should tell you sometime how the Gaians conceived of the portal to Terra.”
Not now. That felt like a pointless thing to reminisce over when he’d already wasted enough time as it was. Still, he wondered if she’d find it as amusing as he did to hear the spiritual significance they’d assigned to something so malicious and yet so mundane. He remembered hearing it for himself the first time at Esto Gaza. He hadn’t been able to stifle his laughter.
Kuja looked down at the bag of sweets with a newfound amusement. He considered telling Mikoto that they very much displeased him just to see what her idea of a “trick” was. It would be either something entirely benign or something so destructive that it flew past the face of mischief and got someone killed. But which would he say displeasured him so? The black cauldron cake? The bag of assorted jelly beans? Or perhaps the cookie that looked suspiciously like a gimme cat…
Unfortunately, Mikoto spoke before he could fully form his scheme. She had thoughts of her own, and they all led back to Hilda.
He blinked at her slowly. ”You mean kidnapping?” What else could she have meant by ‘retrieval?’ ”You have no idea where she is. Or what she looks like.”
But he did. She’d left him a little bird to lead the way. All he’d need to do is activate its magic and let it fly.
Should he kidnap her? Did he want to?
What would she say?
”Hm. I suppose she’d conclude that I hadn’t changed. She’d be disappointed, but not surprised. Then I’d have to explain why. She has no titles here and no rich husbands to ransom her off to. She’d know it was for personal reasons.”
And that wouldn’t do. He contemplated simply killing her before he once again struck it down.
”In her letter, she wondered what I’d make of myself if I’d survived the Iifa Tree. What I’d do with my freedom. Would I destroy as is in my nature or…?”
He crossed his arms and tapped his finger on his sleeve. ’Would you pursue art, beauty, or whatever else your heart may desire?’ Those had been her exact words. But what did his heart desire? Vengeance. Validation. His own self-preservation. These were concepts which meant nothing now in this strange set of circumstances beyond his comprehension. He had been resurrected or perhaps saved from the brink of death only to be thrown to another planet untouched by his misdeeds. Why?
And what was he to do now?
”I wonder,” he said slowly. ”How much time I have left.”
It wasn’t a topic he wished to discuss with Mikoto. It wasn’t something he wished to discuss with anyone at all, really, but some part of him wondered if she knew more than she was letting on. It wasn’t like Garland to discuss his plans with the souls he guided like puppets, but perhaps she had overheard something or stumbled across some file or another in the databanks of Pandemonium.
Did she know his fate? Did he want to know?
Maybe he didn’t, but it was too late now.
”Did he ever speak of me? Or mention my work in his files?” Garland had always been dismissive of them. Even if he hadn’t shared his plans with a lowly genome, his apathy might have let something slip. He’d never expected them to speak with each other, after all. ”Perhaps I could make sense of it.”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
Kuja's moody and tired and keeps twisting his trail of thought lol
[attr=class,bulk] ”Why end all of existence? If that was your goal, why use the last of your magic to bring back Zidane and his Gaians?”
Kuja froze. It was a reasonable question -- the kind of question that he’d practically set himself up for -- and he hated it. He hated that it was so unerringly reasonable. He hated that he didn’t have an answer.
”I couldn’t tell you,” he said instead. ”This planet has clouded my memory of the events.”
It wasn’t a lie. Like so many others, he’d found his head filled with fog upon awakening from his unwilling interdimensional travel. He had theories as to why, of course, but none that extended farther than an educated guess. He’d forgotten exactly those things which he hadn’t truly wished to remember, and though it had all come back in time, it still lacked the clarity of detail. That was why he couldn’t answer Mikoto.
That and no other reason.
”I know Zidane came,” he said. ”He was an idiot. Giving up everything for the sake of…” He gestured vaguely towards the air. ”It made no sense. I was his enemy, after all.”
Yet he’d come all the same with that stupid smile and positive attitude. Some would have called it a selfless act, yet even matters of morality couldn’t extend that far. It was dangerous. It was contradictory. It was…
Not entirely unlike Hilda now that he thought about it. His tail twitched at the comparison.
He didn’t know what to expect when he told her about his experiences on Terra. It wasn’t a usual topic of conversation, and in his exhausted state, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He shouldn’t have said anything, he realized, the moment that Mikoto began to respond. There was no good outcome to any of this. Either she’d defend the late master of Terra or…
”It’s not true. Garland was wrong. You are not just a prototype. You are Kuja. You do not have to be alone anymore.”
And what, exactly, was he supposed to say to that?
He considered pointing out that in a technical sense, he was quite literally built as a prototype for a more perfect model to follow, but ultimately decided that it was best to let the entire subject drown in its own silence to be quickly forgotten by all. Mikoto had quickly taken to a new topic entirely, and Kuja chose to engage with it instead. As stupid as said topic might have been.
He watched the entire charade with a single raised eyebrow. It was like something in a play. The comedic relief, as foolish as she is confident, steps forward beaming with pride over something wrongfully learned and hardly understood. Kuja had never much liked such characters. They were farcical by nature, and he far preferred wit over the bumbling of idiots.
That was to say that he was hardly impressed by his successor’s routine. Particularly when she couldn’t figure out how to properly grasp her own hands together. She was like a jester who didn’t understand her own jokes.
”I know how handshakes work,” he said flatly. ”I was speaking figuratively.”
Did she know the difference between literal and figurative language? If she did, she seemed to have trouble grasping it in practice.
Kuja sighed then, because he still preferred this topic of conversation over the last, he finally sat down on the seaside bench. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but he could tell that she’d expected it from him after she’d brought them both here. He sat perched at the edge, awkwardly balancing the bulk of his armor and the unwieldy positioning of his hidden tail. He gestured for her to join him.
He didn’t know what to say as they sat there together. He didn’t know, really, what she’d intended. The silence wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t particularly exciting either.
”Where did you get this?” he asked, glancing down at the paper bag that was still clutched half-forgotten in his hand. He opened it without interest, noting the strangely colored cakes molded into the shape of bats and cats and other such animals. Mikoto had an eye for food made to look like other things, he’d noticed. Perhaps it was a budding artistic interest. Perhaps she simply found them cute.
”I hope they weren’t expensive.” Not when it was his gil she’d be spending.
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
In which Kuja avoids every topic that he himself brought up
[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto brought them to a small hill overlooking the sea, and on that hill was a public bench, currently unoccupied. Mikoto showed some familiarity with the area, and Kuja recognized immediately that this was where she’d meant to take them. It was fine as far as quiet, secretive spaces went. The view of the harbor certainly gave it an edge. From here, the inky black waters were nearly indistinguishable from the horizon. It all seemed to fade into one great canvas which spread from the beach to the sky, sparkling softly in the moonlight.
The waves rolled against the sand. Harbored boats clinked against the docks. Far away, a gull called mournfully through the night. Kuja closed his eyes and listened.
He heard the sounds of water. Of motion. A living planet.
Mikoto spoke to him of friendship. How trite.
”Do you want to make friends?” he asked without any real interest. Of course Zidane would suggest such a thing. Companionship came to him as easily as breathing, and he had a pathological inability to turn people away.
Perhaps Mikoto had taken after Zidane’s influence.
It didn’t really concern him either way.
Kuja didn’t look at her until she mentioned his misdeeds -- if only in passing. ’They didn’t even have a million in one chance in defeating you.’ Kuja watched her curiously, waiting for the rest. Her tail swished with a barely veiled apprehension.
”Yet he took his Gaians and proved me wrong,” she said. Kuja frowned.
”What?”
What did she mean they’d proven her wrong?
”They didn’t defeat me,” he said. ”I had the power of trance on my side. I obliterated their defenses and destroyed the crystal. Or...I thought I did. The crystal must have been more resilient than I’d thought.” If it really had been destroyed, he shouldn’t have woken up on Gaia again after falling through space and time. The whole planet should have imploded into nonexistence. He supposed he had lost in that way, but it hadn’t been at Zidane’s hand. He simply hadn’t been strong enough to achieve his goal.
”I sensed them still trapped within Memoria, and I used the last of my magic to teleport them back to Gaia. That was the end of it, I think.”
He didn’t remember anything else. Was that due to a deeper amnesia or…?
A cold breeze passed over Kuja’s bare stomach and he shivered, crossing his arms over his chest as though to protect himself. Mikoto hadn’t taken her place on the bench, and neither did he.
”Your bonds?” Kuja repeated. ”Did Zidane teach you that?”
He didn’t like how she spoke to him. It was almost a kind of lecture. She’d had enough life experience to give advice now, and she seemed confident that her single year’s experience had worth. She knew nothing.
”That might work well enough for you,” he said. ”But I have no interest in bonds. They’re...cumbersome.”
How was he to hurt, steal, and betray while tied down by some complicated feelings of attachment? What if the best course of action were barred to him by some carelessly chosen friendship? He wasn’t like the rest of the souls of this planet. He was…
Kuja laughed softly, touching at the aching bulge of his temple. It was all irrelevant, wasn’t it? Everything he’d ever known.
”You claim that we weren’t meant to be alone,” he said, lowering his hand again. ”Why then was I kept that way? You spent less than a year on that quiet planet of soulless dolls. I spent twelve. Eight alone and four with him. My oh so perfect replacement to which I was nothing but a prototype. Then I was banished. I’d proven to be too unexpected a variable, I think.”
The waves waxed and waned, a product of the moon’s gravitational pull. He wondered vaguely how the calculations would different when accounting for only a single moon rather than two. It didn’t matter.
”Perhaps I should take her hand,” Kuja said. He watched the slow, swaying of the boats in the harbor below. ”I never have before. I wouldn’t know how.”
[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto was silent for a moment, as deep in thought as he was in his own brooding. The listened, processed the information, then came to her conclusions. ”Do you like her?” she asked, and Kuja scoffed.
”Of course not. She’s Gaian. I suppose her company is pleasant enough, and she’s capable of intelligent conversation, but…” Well, that hardly mattered, did it? When they were from two different worlds? That was how he was accustomed to thinking at least.
Mikoto considered his words again, tail swishing in time with her thoughts. ”Why not dispose of her like the crew?” The obvious solution. Kuja felt his own tail join hers in its irritable rhythm.
He knew he shouldn’t have told Mikoto.
”I could,” he said slowly. ”She would hardly put up a fight, and I know well enough how to make it look like an accident. She even left me with a way to find her again. How terribly trusting of her.”
Trusting or stupid. He hardly saw the difference.
”Hm.” He considered the idea carefully, imagining it in all its facets. Her mechanical bird had been left in his care, set to return to its owner on command via biological analysis. He could follow it easily enough to her location, and then…
A quick-fire spell -- perhaps a few for good measure in case she countered the first -- and he would be rid of her forever.
But that wasn’t right, was it?
”I’d still have the letter,” he said. ”And if that were burned, I’d still have it memorized. Murder can’t solve everything, you know.”
Only most things. Not this time.
Mikoto spoke with an uncharacteristic confidence and started walking ahead. Kuja raised an eyebrow after her. ”A spot...?” he echoed, but she didn’t seem much in the mood for elaboration. He followed.
It irked him slightly, not knowing where it was that they were going. It irked him more being the one following behind. Still, he was too tired to argue, and it wasn’t as though he had any better ideas for a location. His curiosity was piqued, one might say. He braced himself for disappointment.
They were headed towards the port district, it seemed. An interesting choice.
”Gaians are enigmas and infuriating,” Mikoto said as they walked, and Kuja laughed. My, wasn’t she social this evening? He didn’t think he’d heard her say more in the past month than she had in the last hour.
”Infuriating, yes. Enigmas, hardly.” They walked along together beneath the flickering streetlights. The city was hushed at this time of night. He wondered as to the hour. ”Most Gaians are driven by passion over logic. Envy, greed, hedonism, love. Those disciplined enough to resist those passions are often slaves to some kind of petty code like honor or morality. It’s simply a matter of finding what drives them.”
He should know. He’d manipulated enough of them.
”I don’t know. I can hardly get my thoughts straight.” And it wasn’t as though he wished to share the depth of them with Mikoto of all people. Or with anyone else, really. ”I want to ask her why, but she’s already explained herself. In two dozen paragraphs of structured prose.”
Which was as clear an answer as he could request. If only all of life’s questions were answered in the form of an essay.
”I suppose I’m unsure of myself, in part. She’s offered her hand, and I'm uncertain whether I should take it.”
[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto was listening. She had advice. His first instinct was to dismiss everything that came from her well-intentioned lips, but he was too tired for such games at the moment. He would entertain her thoughts. For now.
”That’s ridiculous,” he said. ”This woman is the regentess of Lindblum! She’s high nobility. She didn’t seem to like her station much, but I fail to see how my palace could compare.” In the essentials, at least. Aesthetically, he much preferred the brooding velvets and ethereal lights of his desert palace to Lindblum’s eyesore of a castle. Even if she was dissatisfied with the expectations of her court (which she certainly seemed to be), she hadn’t, to his knowledge, lived with the daily threat of execution until they’d met. Kuja had made no secret that her life was held in his volatile hands.
’Out of all your transgressions, returning me to what I ran from even after you tramped it hurt the worst.’
What she’d run from? She’d had no greater freedoms under his hand than that of her husband. As far as he could tell, she still seemed willing to defend the man even after their disputes. Perhaps if the regent had abused her...Perhaps if she’d wanted nothing more than to see his blood on another’s hands…
But no. That wasn’t the case. He still couldn’t understand it.
”She said that she doesn’t wish to hate me,” he said, and when that sounded absurd to his own ears, he added, ”She thanked me! For abducting her! Out of every soul on that doomed planet, you’d think that she’d have the most reason to hold a grudge. I stole her freedom, razed her country, nearly killed her niece -- that’s the princess of Alexandria, by the way. The girl Zidane’s infatuated with? They’re related by marriage as most among the nobility are. Hilda and I spoke often when she was under my control, and she was pleasant enough, but that was a survival mechanism! She knew that I might dispose of her as I did the rest of her airship’s crew when I stole it. There’s no reason for her to keep up the act now! At least not to the same degree.”
Mikoto’s suggestions were hollow and obvious. ’Why bother with the encounter?’ It was like shouting at a brick wall, but as one who spoke to himself often, he could find at least some value in having the obvious echoed back to him.
”She wrote me a letter, Mikoto. I have to respond!”
Which sounded somewhat childish when spoken aloud. He wouldn’t bother explaining it any further.
”I have a stockpile of sleeping weed back on Gaia, but nothing here works quite the same. What’s the use in tranquilizing my body if my mind is still racing?” His eyes ached with exhaustion. He felt the threat of a headache lurking behind his right temple.
”I have no idea how to reply,” he said. ”The words come and then go and none of it feels right. She’s like a puzzle that I can’t comprehend. So I turn it over again and again, examining its component parts, but they never fit together properly.” He raised a hand to his forehead and gave a humorless laugh. ”She’s as infuriating as Zidane.”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
Yes, I have to do this. No, I will not explain myself.
[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto didn’t recoil. Well, she did at first, but it was short lived. He wondered at first if she was going to cry -- which would have been obnoxious -- or perhaps simply run off so as not to be a bother. He wondered if he’d see her again after that which seemed likely given her previous actions. She’d excuse herself quietly and run off with her tail despondently drooping, and then he’d find her back at the house because she had nowhere else to go and she was as bothersome as a fruit fly. He expected all of this in the space of the silence between them, yet none of it came to pass. Instead, she looked at him with her honest eyes like pools of glass and said, ”Because I like you.”
Kuja raised his eyebrows, too surprised to immediately counter back. She took advantage of his silence to begin a tirade of her own.
It wasn’t so much furious as frustrated. Her tail twitched then swished then bristled until it resembled a furry boa. This was exactly the reason that Kuja kept his own hidden. It was far too easy a tell for perceptive eyes.
Not that he needed a high level of perception for this conversation. For once, Mikoto was making her feelings exceedingly clear.
”Hm.” Kuja crossed his arms and glanced aside. He felt his tail grow restless in time with hers. How annoying.
”Because you like me? Is it really so simple?” He ignored her outstretched hand, instead choosing to gaze up at the sky. What a strange night it was. What a strange world.
”I don’t…not want you around,” he conceded. His invisible tail thrashed the motion of his thoughts, beating softly at the pavement. ”Perhaps it’s fairer to say that I’m accustomed to solitude. Your presence is...an adjustment.”
This felt strange. Hadn’t he been yelling before? His moods seemed to shift with the passing of the moon.
”I suppose if anyone wasn’t to hate me for the destruction reaped upon Gaia, it would be you. And while I thought you loyal to Terra, it wouldn’t take long for one to develop a distaste of it. I was naive once as well.”
His thoughts turned like cogs in an elaborate clockwork machine. Or perhaps like the gears of a mechanical bird…
”It makes more sense than her at any rate.” He scowled, looking away. ”An old hostage of mine. We crossed paths a few days ago, and she seemed…” He turned a hand, searching for the right word. ”Cordial.” His lips soured as though this were some great offense. He supposed it had been.
”You’ve made your point well enough, but she wrote me an entire letter and I still don’t understand it! Perhaps the isolation drove her mad. She did spend an awful lot of time alone in my Palace…”
He huffed. ”Well, it’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I suppose I’m a tad on edge. Insomnia, you know.” He rubbed at the corner of his eye. ”How anyone can be expected to sleep at night, I’ll never understand.”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
Congratulations, Mikoto! Shouting back was the right answer!
[attr=class,bulk] The beastman did not lose consciousness. That was but one failure out of three, however, as Kuja saw the fruits of his magic take hold. Inky black clouds gathered around the creature’s eyes in an impenetrable blindfold. The creature’s breath slowed as it fought against the forces of time itself. One might think that facing an opponent while blind and sluggish would prompt some kind of better survival instinct in even the most brutish of monsters, but no. The beastman seemed more annoyed than anything.
That made two of them.
”You’re clearly outmatched,” Kuja said on the off chance that the creature could understand him. ”And you’ve even managed to ruin my day! How satisfying for you. Now why don’t you scurry along so I don’t have to waste time and-”
ROAR
Kuja winced at the horrible, screeching sound that drowned his words. It was like a feral cat’s interpretation of an opera solo. It went on for so long and at such a high decibel that Kuja thought at first that it must have been some kind of audio-based spell, but no. It seemed the cursed thing had just decided to see what would happen if it scraped its vocal cords together at full volume. Kuja shot it an offended look as the sound finally faded into an endless echo across the mountainside. His hand sparked with magic.
Well fine. If it refused to admit defeat then he’d just have to end it himself.
”Would you care to try dodging again?” he said, tilting his head with a sly smile. ”Thunda-!”
Kuja froze, hand halfway through the intricacies of a spell. Something was wrong.
Then he heard it again. A low, deep rumble echoing at a great distance. It was the kind of sound that struck one first on an instinctual level and then on a higher plane of thought. Somewhere deep within him, some base programming whispered to run.
His dragon whined and padded at the earth. Her eyes were struck with panic. As the sound echoed louder and louder by the second, his thoughts slowly caught up to what he already instinctively knew, but hadn’t yet been able to put into words.
The beast had started an avalanche.
Kuja’s eyes widened. ”You idiot!” A bolt of panic struck through him, and he felt his magic surge with the force of his adrenaline. He wanted to strike the stupid thing down. He wanted to feel that satisfaction, but he didn’t have time. An avalanche could weigh more than a million tons and travel faster than two hundred miles per hour. Assuming it began at the mountain’s summit, that meant that it would strike in approximately-
Oh, what did it matter? He had to move.
Kuja vaulted onto the dragon’s back with a practiced ease, pulling her back with a few short command words. The avalanche was closing in. He didn’t bother looking -- he could feel it rumbling through the earth. They didn’t have time for a proper take-off. Instead, Kuja directed his dragon to charge towards the nearest cliff and take flight from there. It felt wrong, turning his back towards an enemy. However, when that enemy was blind, slowed, and in the path of an avalanche it had directly caused, he thought it to be worth the risk.
How its kind had managed to survive in the mountains with intelligence like that, he simply couldn’t fathom.
His dragon spread her wings and dove into the air, descending in a graceful dive as the rumbling of the avalanche turned into a roar behind them that seemed to swallow everything it touched. Kuja’s ears ached as he grasped his dragon’s neck tightly and waited for either the impact of a million tons of compacted snow waterfalling on top of them or for the release of the skies. His dragon tightened its body and dove down, winding this way and that around obstacles that Kuja couldn’t see. Was this how he would die? After all that he had done? In the snow and cold on an alien planet due to the stupidity of a creature that had merely happened upon his path?
No. It wasn’t. Kuja had never really worried that it would. That would be terribly anti-climactic, after all.
As the sounds faded, Kuja finally dared to look behind him. The mountain, once vibrant and beautiful and filled with flowers, was now a wasteland of ice and snow. He let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and pushed back his bangs with a shaking hand. ”What an elaborate method of suicide.”
Well, the monster was dead now and buried under the suffocating weight of its own failure. Kuja might not have won exactly, but he certainly hadn’t lost nearly as much.
Which left him victorious, he supposed. By means of default.
”I’ve wasted too much time.” Kuja eyed the mountain, scowling. ”And now the plant’s ruined if it ever existed at all. There’s no use staying here any longer.” Particularly not in this weather. The wind was like ice against his bare skin.
