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year 5, quarter 3
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Faris has had a rough time now that I think about it
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
She was from the mountains. Well that made sense then. She was a fan of the cold -- not the city -- and it reminded her of home. Faris’ stomach turned at the word. Home. He didn’t know what would remind him of it. Tycoon? The sea? He’d never been much for roots, but he knew he missed the few he’d had terribly. He couldn’t blame her for taking to a place that would sit well with her memories. If he could have, he’d have done the same.
”You’ve got a good heart.” Faris glanced to Eillien. Sticking around just to help people. That sounded like something Lenna would have done. Not him. He’d gone for the money even if he’d liked to have helped people on the side. And as for his pirating…
Well, he hadn’t exactly used his spear for charity.
”There’s a desert here, but it’s not much for towns. I’ve hardly been myself. The heat could just about burn me through.” Still, would he mind stopping by the sands with a friend? He imagined it -- the two of them laughing loud at some desert village with cool glasses of ale in their hands. He thought they could have that anywhere and he’d put his heart into it.
”Eh?” What had he been doing? His stomach sank a little in shame. Crime mostly.
”Taking jobs here and there,” he said instead. ”I don’t mind being a hired spear. It’s mostly good work anyway.” On that side of his life. With Bartz and Krile in tow, they’d been too low on money to rely on the mercenary work that popped up in flyers now and again. No, he’d gone back to his roots, and talking here with Eillien, he wished he could toss them into the sea.
”I stumbled into another friend. She’s a brave lass, and strong too. Another Warrior of Light, but she’s young. She lost her family, and I’m what she’s got. A sad substitute.” Faris smirked wryly. ”Maybe I’ll raise her as a pirate. I’m just a lad plucked from the sea and thrown to work for a batch of thieves.” Faris shook his head. ”Now I’ve got the both of them in my hands.”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
“You would take me? Oh, in what ways would you take me if given the chance Faris?”
”Eh?” Faris blinked. He’d take her along, of course. He’d have her at his side in a heartbeat, kept close as the friend she was. It struck him as an odd thing to say before the words pounded their way through his head and he froze.
’In what ways would you take me?’
Oh.
”Ah, that’d be…” He trailed off, not really sure what to say. He’d been thrown for a curve, and the stakes were high. Would he have wanted that angle with her? She seemed a spell older than him though that was a short slight he wouldn’t take to mind. Did she know he was a woman? Now that was a harder one. He racked his head for an answer, but couldn’t really remember. There were a few times he couldn’t remember with Eillien -- too heavy with liquor to guess one way or the other.
What did he really want? Faris couldn’t really say.
Eillien moved on with a laugh. Faris decided to do the same. He’d either need time to think or he’d need a strong enough drink for his body to decide on its own. Either way, he’d put it aside and take her only as a friend for now. A slap in the face and a shoulder to cry on just as she said.
”And I’m glad for it.” Faris half-grinned into his glass. Another sip. He wouldn’t move too fast. ”So you’ve been up in that frozen waste? That place could freeze you solid if the kingdom doesn’t knock you over first. A city made of metal. And I’d thought I’d seen everything.” His smile turned sour, and he pushed his drink back on the table.
”Why there? I wouldn’t think it your kind of place.”It sure wasn’t his. He’d take just about any answer, because his mind was boggled.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris glanced at Eillien. At least he’s here. Faris took a long breath. At least he was here. It was so obvious that he wondered how he’d lost sight of it. He’d been frustrated for too long. Hurt for too long. At the end of the day, he’d have rather had an empty Bartz than no Bartz at all. It was like a blunt strike to the head, and Faris thanked her for it. Sometimes he needed someone to smack some sense into him.
”Aye.” Faris sighed. ”I’ll be there for him until the ends of the earth. I’ve followed him this far whether he liked it or not, and I’ll keep with it no matter if he remembers me. I owe him that much.” For the nights of laughter. For that twinkle in his eye. Faris owed him a debt he’d never repay.
A hand found his shoulder, and Faris looked up into Eillien’s eyes. He smiled sheepishly. ”I’ll take you in a breath,” he said. It had been some time since he’d had a friend to hold him steady. It felt like finding his feet in deep water.
Faris watched her raise her glass, and he followed suit. The liquor burned his throat, and he paused once it was gone, watching the ice shift as it melted. Friends. Faris had always thought he'd known them well. After all, what was a crew if not a family of its own? But here he was like a gull flying blind. How was he supposed to hold onto it for a man who wanted nothing to do with him? How was he supposed to be the rock for someone who no longer knew him?
”It’s good to see you, Eillien.” He kept his eyes trained on his glass. ”I needed someone to set me straight.”
He shook his head and grabbed the second drink Eillien had called for him. ”But that’s beside the point. You’re back, and that’s what matters.”
He straightened and tried to brighten his eyes. Bartz wasn’t here -- Eillien was -- and he didn’t intend to darken the mood with his own troubles. ”You’ll have to tell me your tales. I bet you’ve got a load of them!”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
"So, you're like a runaway prince or something!?"
Faris laughed. Close. So close.
”Turns out my papa was the king of Tycoon. A nasty shock for me. I helmed a ship of pirates, and only found out when I took his daughter for ransom. An awkward time if I’ve ever seen one.” Faris shook his head. Maybe under different circumstances, that would have been a cannon ball to drop on a stranger, but here he didn’t much mind. What did it matter when the girl couldn’t tell Tycoon from Bal? ”That’d be a load of pressure for you. I couldn’t stand it for a day. Thank the gods I had a sister to take the throne.”
Faris shuddered. By birthright, he should have been queen. What an end that would have been.
’I just want to be me, you know?’
Faris laughed loudly. ”Aye, now that’s the truth. I only had one party like this, and I ran out on it. It’s leagues better when no one’s staring.” Faris glanced at her, grinning. He never thought he’d hear someone who related to that odd sense of entrapment -- like a beast chained by money and status. He didn’t mind the company.
”A rebel, eh?” Faris crossed his arms, head tilted. He could see it. With her spirit, he had no doubts that she’d have broken her chain with her teeth if she had to. ”Conquest -- now that’s an ugly thing. You’ve got guts standing against your blood. You’d make a good pirate, I think.” If she had the heart for it. Faris wasn’t exactly fighting for the good of the common people.
”I’ve had more trouble than I could shake a stick at. I half expect to be ambushed.” Faris glanced at Rinoa and smiled dryly. ”Maybe your kingdom’s back to bite you?”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris grinned. He grinned and grinned until he thought his lips might burst. Eillien. He only half-heard her through the haze of his own excitement. Eillien was here. She hadn’t left like the others. No, she’d stayed right where she was, and now she’d wandered back into view. A friend, gods knew he could use a friend. There was Krile, but well…
She wasn’t the type who could drink with him. She wasn’t the type he could bluster on to about his fears and the anger that rolled in him like a storm. Despite her strength and her trust and the mountains of respect she had ever right to, Krile was still a child, and there was only so much that a child could do.
”It’s a good look for you!” The words burst of their own accord, but he didn’t mind. He liked the pixie look of it, almost mischievous with its red fringes and its windswept style. ”Never seen better.”
What was he talking about? Did it matter?
”Ah, that place.” For the first time, his lips soured. It was no wonder he hadn’t found her. That kingdom was nothing but a pit of metal and misery. He didn’t follow a single lick of it -- from its cold lights to its screeching carriages to its buildings tall as turrets. Faris kept away at every chance he could -- and he had plenty of chances. ”It’s good you’re doing well.”
That was the best he could say for it. If it suited Eillien then that was her business.
”I stumbled on an old friend of mine. Two of them, actually. Dropped in from back home. Aye, I’d say that’s a stroke of luck.” A bitter one. Faris smirked dryly and took a long draught of whiskey. ”The lout doesn’t remember a thing. Not me, not himself. Well, not his true self anyway.”Not the one he’d become. Faris scowled. ”It’s like someone plucked the real Bartz away and dropped a stranger where he stood. I thought I’d be enough to spark it in him, but…”
But he hadn’t been that important to him. Not like Krile to Galuf. Faris took another swallow of whiskey.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris grinned. He’d always liked animals whether it was a dog or a dragon or a beast of the sea so worrisome that lesser sailors shrieked and turned course. Angelo was no exception, and as she reached out a paw for him, Faris couldn’t help but to nod at her respectfully and give it a hard shake.
”Angelo? Aye, it’s an honor to meet her. That’ll be Faris on my end. Captain Faris Scherwiz.” The name came on instinct and left his lips sour. Could he really call himself a captain without a ship to helm? He hadn’t been a captain since he’d found himself tossed head over heels into strange waters.
Again.
”You meet a lot of money where you’re from then? They tried to chain a title to me, but it did as much good as trying to knot a bow-tie on a wind drake. I’d rather have jumped in the sea.” Faris straightened and cast her a sly smile. If she’d had enough of the whole of nobility then she was the right kind for him.
”In your pocket?” Faris recoiled and then placed his hands on his hips, looking her over carefully. ”If that isn’t the wildest story I’ve heard.” It wasn’t. His life had been nothing but a whirlwind of danger, crime, and since he’d met Bartz the kind of hijinks he’d have rather pinned on some bizarre dream. Still, waking up with a letter in your pocket was notable at least. ”Aye, they’ll be wanting you alright. That goes for the both of us.”
For some reason. Had he finally met the end of his rope as a pirate? Or were they after his crystal? Neither of them fit quite right with this girl. He hummed.
”A pleasure to meet you, lass. You haven’t got some power, have you? Something they could steal for themselves? You don’t seem the type to rub a man the wrong way.”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Another drink fell into place beside his.
”Eh?” Faris looked up, eyebrow raised. A woman in armor stood in front of him, all decked out in red metal. She seemed to know him too though Faris couldn’t pin why. ’Coming down here looking for him?’ Faris looked her over closer as she propped her spear against a free chair and took the one opposite him.
Her armor was no joke, that was for sure, but it wasn’t bulky either. In fact, she’d somehow managed to preserve her whole figure in it -- her whole towering, lithe figure. Despite all the sharp angles, she seemed almost cute with her short cut hair and a span of hip pads that fanned out around her like a skirt. Faris would have remembered a woman like her. Or at least he thought so.
”You’ve come for me? Now that’s an odd sight.” Still, he didn’t turn her away. He needed the company, and he sure didn’t mind it from someone like her. What did he have to lose? With Bartz’ head full of air and Krile running about every which way, Faris had been left to his own devices. And he never did well when his thoughts got the better of him. ”I can’t say I’ve caught sight of you before. Faris is the name. Though I’d say you know it.”
She’d called them friends. Did she have some kind of job for him? From the way she fell into her chair, it didn’t seem like it. Faris frowned and churned his head for something he’d missed. Someone he hadn’t seen in a time. A towering woman with a course tongue and a wicked spear. A friend…
His eyes widened and he shot straight up, shoving his palms on the table as he cursed. ”Eillien?!” He saw it now. How could he have missed it? There was that familiar face, those dark eyes, and the roguish voice he knew. He gaped at her for a moment longer before he broke out in a grin. ”Aye, that's the one! A change of hair and I’m lost as a gull in a typhoon! A right friend, I am.”
Still, he felt himself beam at her -- bright and blustery as the rolling waves. Guilt was the last thing on his mind.
”Where’ve you been hiding? I could’ve used a friendly face around here.”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
”Something stiff. Aye, make that two of them.” Faris groaned and fell into a chair, head lolling back. The bar was warm with liquor and sweat. There was talk around him -- boasting, jesting, general chatter -- though the counter was nearly empty at this time of day. Faris had a table to himself. He couldn’t tell whether or not he wanted it that way.
His heart was stormy. His legs were sore with bruises, and his neck ached. It had taken him days to march himself out of the Wanderwood, and he was now thoroughly convinced that moogles were little devils all to themselves. They’d led him north, south, and sideways with their mischievous games, and that was to say nothing of their ravine. He’d tumbled down it with all the grace of a beached whale. And it was all for that accursed bird.
Boko. Bartz still refused to take company with him until the bird was found. A bird that Faris was starting to suspect was still snuggled up with its family back near Tycoon. Faris cursed it, the fates, and Bartz most of all. He was less trusting than the chocobo and had about half the brains. A right friend, he was at any rate.
A thick glass was dropped in front of him. Faris blinked in surprise then sat up and grinned at it. "That’ll do.” He seized it and swallowed heavily. It tasted like whiskey. Whiskey with some kind of lemon. ’That’ll fight the scurvy,’ he thought on instinct and then laughed. He wasn’t a sailor anymore. Not a sailor or a pirate or much of anything at all.
He’d been robbed of his crew. Robbed of the sea. If he ever found the devil that stranded him here, he’d give it his whole mind and the wrong end of his spear for good measure.
He raised his glass. ”To friends,” he said, smirking wryly. Then he took another long drought that burned in his lungs. ”The witless louts.”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The masquerade was a half an hour into swing, and Faris was supporting a wall.
He hadn’t planned to come. In fact, he’d tossed his invitation aside the moment he’d set eyes on it, calling it nonsense and a waste of time. Bartz, however, had been thrilled. No, thrilled wasn’t the right word for it. Ecstatic. He was already practicing his dance moves before Faris could tell him no, and by then even Faris knew it was too late. Bartz would be going whether Faris wanted him to or not -- and if it meant climbing out a window, he’d do it without a second thought.
Faris had complained. He’d argued, and then he’d swallowed his pride and bought a mask. This was the kind of place where Bartz was sure to find trouble. Trouble and whatever series of hijinks seemed to follow him around like a witch’s curse. Faris could either be there to back him up or he wouldn’t, and Faris was nothing if not a loyal friend.
”Aye, and a right friend he’s been lately.” Faris glowered at his champagne (it was horribly light and fizzy -- where could he get some decent liquor?) and listened to the cant of a violin. It too had the delicate touch of a royal ball.
A royal ball. Now that was a sour thought.
Faris dressed in the best he could manage. This time, he wasn’t a Warrior of Light or a princess, but a pirate and that suited him fine. His coat was pressed and embroidered. He wore a vest and a ruffled shirt beneath. His slacks were sturdy (he’d walk into the sea before he wore a dress again) with his best sailor’s boots below them. Bartz had dragged him along for masks, and Faris had sworn up and down he’d just grab the first one that didn’t sparkle when his eyes had landed on a golden butterfly.
The mask was deep emerald and had a porcelain sheen. It was sleek. Dignified, and yet nearly feminine in its own strange way. He’d turned it over in his hands, knowing he should have balked at the flowers and ivy and the wing off to one side, but he didn’t. He’d slipped the merchant money before Bartz could notice, and didn’t bring it out again until it was time to dress. Bartz hadn’t said a thing about it. In the thick of things, Faris couldn’t say he minded the look.
No, it was everything else he minded.
”I’ll need something stronger before the night’s through.” Faris scanned the crowd in all its formal, straight-backed flair and pushed off the wall. He downed the last of his champagne in one gulp and started across the floor, intent to find a bar somewhere in this maze. Instead, he found a dog.
It was a fluffy thing, dark and built like a border collie. Faris stopped at the sight of it, trotting along at its owner’s heels and for the first time since he’d arrived he couldn’t help but smile. The dog stuck out like a sore thumb among all the pomp and pretense. Faris wondered how it had even got in, and admired the gall of anyone who thought to do it. That someone, as it turned out, was a rather bright looking girl. There were no dresses here -- just a pair of sturdy boots, some unassuming shorts, and a duster. Only her mask indicated she belonged. Black lace.
”That’s a fine beast you have.” Faris nodded to it as he approached, arms crossed. ”It’s a sight for sore eyes that's for sure -- surrounded by these swell-headed louts anyway.” Faris shot her a wry smile before he dropped to a knee and held out a hand, hoping the dog would take a liking to him. ”That was a shady note, aye? Calling us all here in rhymes.” Faris smirked to himself. ”I’ve of half a mind we’ll be blind-sided.”
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Had Faris been asked, this was not the moment he would have chosen for an interruption. He was scraped, bruised, and boiling with rage, and that was a state best left to simmer alone. Yet despite all the odds, a voice called down to him. Here. Sprinted wildly off the path of an enchanted wood.
No, Faris would not have chosen this moment for an interruption, but the fates had never made it a habit of asking.
For a moment, he could only stand frozen in his own shock and shame. Had she heard him raging? Then he looked up to slowly meet her eye. There she was in front of him swathed in white with trims of gold. That other Warrior -- that White Mage of Light. What she was doing here, he couldn’t say. How she’d found him, he equally couldn’t say, but he felt a heat rise to his cheeks at the sight of her.
”Joanna.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. ”Not a worry. I’ve taken worse knocks than this.” And so he had, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worse for wear. His knees blared where they’d slammed into rocks, his elbows stung with blood, he had thorny scratches along his cheek, and his right ankle screamed for rest. He laughed weakly. ”By yourself, are you? How’d you drift all the way out here?”
Already, he was planning his angle of escape. He’d fallen into a ravine at least fifteen feet deep with nothing but smooth rocks and loose underbrush lining either side. He could have chanced it climbing out, but one snapped root and he’d be plummeting down again. Instead, he shook his head and held out his crystal.
”I’ll be out before you know it.” He willed his crystal brighter, felt deep within its magic, and shifted. Light burst from within him, and with it came a familiar weight. Red armor, a snouted helm, and the grip of his spear as it dropped into his hand. In seconds, he stood before her encased in the garb of a dragoon. It made him feel stronger this way. In his armor, she couldn’t see his scratches or scrapes.
He grounded his stance, grit his teeth, and jumped. Or at least, he tried to jump. In the last moment, his ankle gave way and he cried out in pain, propelling himself up only a few feet before he lost balance and crashed into the side of his prison, rolling all the way back down. His armor protected him from the fall this time, but he hardly noticed from the searing pain in his ankle. Was it fractured? Twisted? He couldn’t tell as he cradled it.
”It’s nothing!” he called out again. ”A sprain, that’s all. Nothing to lose our heads over.”
