Inked Eidolon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inked_eidolon) wrote2011-10-15 11:09 am
inked_eidolon) wrote2011-10-15 11:09 am
Entry tags:
Days to Never Remember - Final Fantasy I
Title: Days to Never Remember
Fandom: Final Fantasy 1
Characters: Red Mage, Thief, White Mage, Fighter
Rating: G
Summary: Four people go about their lives.
The red mage strode off the gangplank, taking a deep breath as she surveyed Pravoka. It had been a long voyage in crowded quarters, packed tight in a hold full of peddlers, families, and thieves. But already the memory of the unpleasant conditions was fading as she looked on the clear blue sky. A brief stop here and then on to Cornelia. She'd come a long way to visit that city--she could hear the guard now, proclaiming Welcome to Cornelia!
She paused in her steps. The image in her mind had been too sharp just then--her imagining of that city hadn't included a guard who had yet to outgrow his acne, speaking around a frog in his throat. But she could see the young man as clearly as if she'd met him seconds ago. A jostle from a fellow traveler took the red mage out of her reverie, and she shook her head at herself. A pimply youth was what she'd be like to see--hadn't months of travel stripped the romantic notions from her by now?
***
This was it... oh, this was it. The thief grinned as the lock clicked and the lid of the chest lifted ever-so-slightly. Those four long hours had been well-spent, she thought as she surveyed the glittering weapons and coins inside. Theoretically, the money she'd make off this lot could last her through the next year, but it wouldn't stop her from striking again somewhere else. Gold was forever, but this feeling died all too soon.
The treasure shifted as she unearthed a particularly fine-looking dagger, and she dropped it in shock. A long, narrow crystal lay beneath... hurriedly the thief dug it out and nearly fumbled again when she saw how dull and colorless it was. Then she blinked and the feeling of numb horror faded. Just a chunk of uncut quartz. Nothing to worry about--yet she slipped it into her sack rather than toss it aside. She'd pay a jeweler to cut it up nice. It would be her own reminder of this find once she'd sold the rest of the swag.
***
The white mage stifled a yawn, capping the bottle of ink on his desk and looking over the notes he'd made for that day's cases. He'd thought, when he'd been accredited, that his days of writers' cramp were over. He'd been rather dismayed when he'd realized that all of it had been practice for the endless paperwork that lay ahead. A fine thing when many of the people he was sent out to heal couldn't even read.
Yet he would never choose to do anything else, tedium and all. With a sigh, the he stood up and shut the log. Then his eyes fell on the Lufenian text his colleague had bought from a traveler last year, the one the white mage had said was a waste of money. What was the point of a book written in a dead language? But now he found himself reaching for it and flipping through the pages. His lips moved unconsciously as he read the mysterious words, feeling as though they were just on the edge of comprehension. He could almost see the writer, a fair-haired figure in robes bending over his or her work--a loud knocking at the door interrupted, and then it was gone. Just an old book written in a foreign tongue, as it had always been.
***
Orange-red light bathed the castle as the fighter took of his helmet and raked a still-mailed hand over his hair, which happened to be as red as his armor. Most of his friends had taken their skills and traveled abroad, seeking adventure and wealth. He could do without those things. Being a castle guard was quite enough for him--despite his skill with a blade, he'd never found any ambition more driving than keeping Cornelia safe.
He paused a moment and looked up at the castle, admiring the way the towers caught the day's last light. But the sound of music drifting from one spire caught him just as he was about to start for the barracks--the strings of a lute, skillfully played by Princess Sarah. The fighter shut his eyes, feeling the melody well up from somewhere within, a sudden sense of terrible purpose... then the princess struck a note wrong and it vanished. He shook his head and headed off.
Fandom: Final Fantasy 1
Characters: Red Mage, Thief, White Mage, Fighter
Rating: G
Summary: Four people go about their lives.
The red mage strode off the gangplank, taking a deep breath as she surveyed Pravoka. It had been a long voyage in crowded quarters, packed tight in a hold full of peddlers, families, and thieves. But already the memory of the unpleasant conditions was fading as she looked on the clear blue sky. A brief stop here and then on to Cornelia. She'd come a long way to visit that city--she could hear the guard now, proclaiming Welcome to Cornelia!
She paused in her steps. The image in her mind had been too sharp just then--her imagining of that city hadn't included a guard who had yet to outgrow his acne, speaking around a frog in his throat. But she could see the young man as clearly as if she'd met him seconds ago. A jostle from a fellow traveler took the red mage out of her reverie, and she shook her head at herself. A pimply youth was what she'd be like to see--hadn't months of travel stripped the romantic notions from her by now?
This was it... oh, this was it. The thief grinned as the lock clicked and the lid of the chest lifted ever-so-slightly. Those four long hours had been well-spent, she thought as she surveyed the glittering weapons and coins inside. Theoretically, the money she'd make off this lot could last her through the next year, but it wouldn't stop her from striking again somewhere else. Gold was forever, but this feeling died all too soon.
The treasure shifted as she unearthed a particularly fine-looking dagger, and she dropped it in shock. A long, narrow crystal lay beneath... hurriedly the thief dug it out and nearly fumbled again when she saw how dull and colorless it was. Then she blinked and the feeling of numb horror faded. Just a chunk of uncut quartz. Nothing to worry about--yet she slipped it into her sack rather than toss it aside. She'd pay a jeweler to cut it up nice. It would be her own reminder of this find once she'd sold the rest of the swag.
The white mage stifled a yawn, capping the bottle of ink on his desk and looking over the notes he'd made for that day's cases. He'd thought, when he'd been accredited, that his days of writers' cramp were over. He'd been rather dismayed when he'd realized that all of it had been practice for the endless paperwork that lay ahead. A fine thing when many of the people he was sent out to heal couldn't even read.
Yet he would never choose to do anything else, tedium and all. With a sigh, the he stood up and shut the log. Then his eyes fell on the Lufenian text his colleague had bought from a traveler last year, the one the white mage had said was a waste of money. What was the point of a book written in a dead language? But now he found himself reaching for it and flipping through the pages. His lips moved unconsciously as he read the mysterious words, feeling as though they were just on the edge of comprehension. He could almost see the writer, a fair-haired figure in robes bending over his or her work--a loud knocking at the door interrupted, and then it was gone. Just an old book written in a foreign tongue, as it had always been.
Orange-red light bathed the castle as the fighter took of his helmet and raked a still-mailed hand over his hair, which happened to be as red as his armor. Most of his friends had taken their skills and traveled abroad, seeking adventure and wealth. He could do without those things. Being a castle guard was quite enough for him--despite his skill with a blade, he'd never found any ambition more driving than keeping Cornelia safe.
He paused a moment and looked up at the castle, admiring the way the towers caught the day's last light. But the sound of music drifting from one spire caught him just as he was about to start for the barracks--the strings of a lute, skillfully played by Princess Sarah. The fighter shut his eyes, feeling the melody well up from somewhere within, a sudden sense of terrible purpose... then the princess struck a note wrong and it vanished. He shook his head and headed off.