magefeathers
Your friendly neighborhood Plague Doctor
Author's Note: I thrive thrive THRIVE on reviews. I really appreciate even the simplest 'Good fic, keep going!' or 'You could do (blank) better'. So please leave those notes and I'll keep writing!
oOoOoOo
Drip drip....
Splashes and drips echoed throughout the thawing cavern, the creature that had created the blizzard now laying in a pathetic heap, barely able to hang onto his life as the new waterfall bombarded him from above. His clothes soaked and blood stained, the waltz struggled to open his eyes, clutching desperately to the rock that held him above the water's hungry surface. His body felt paralyzed beneath the rushing rapids, the crash of it causing his head to pound. His recent defeat left him in a disasterous state of mind; confused, frightened and dazed. But one thing was certain, he had to move to save himself. Focusing his mind on the seemingly simple task of swimming, the waltz pushed himself from the rock and was pulled down by the current. After a few moments of thrashing, the waltz floated up to the surface gasping for air. 'Have to get....to shore....'
His mind focused solely on this task, the mage was able to propel himself towards the rocky shelf that led to the exit of the cavern. Pulling himself out of the water proved to be a much harder task than swimming, his clothes and feathers completely soaked. Drained of all energies, magical and physical, he collapsed in a heap and slipped into unconsciousness.
"Mortimer, get up!"
"Huh..?"
The waltz found himself laying on his back in a snowdrift, the winter ridden town of Alexandria his surroundings. Before he could get another word out, the girl who had called to him whipped a snowball in his direction. He lifted a wing to defend himself, but the snowball whizzed past harmlessly, missing its target. The girl laughed and hugged her cerulean garments closer, curly black hair covered in snow. "You won't be so lucky next time Mort!" she called, running across the road as she began to make another snowball. Though the woman was young, the mage could almost sense her maternal and protective personality, as though remembering her from long ago.
The waltz went to sit up and the scene disappeared around him, revealing that he was truly alone in the night darkened cavern. It all seemed so real, why was he here now?
Black Waltz One stood, now rested and recovered from the battle he had fought, though very bewildered by the dream he had just awoken from. Had it simply been a dream? He couldn't recall having such a vivid dream before, nor really dreaming much of anything. "Best not to worry about it..." he murmured to himself as he began the ascent up the rocky hill and out of the cavern's exit, his gaze falling on the slumbering town of Dali. It looked like a good enough place to stay the night. It would give him the chance to sort out his racing thoughts and plan his next move.
It seemed like a good enough plan, simple and straightforward. However, the waltz didn't have the slightest idea on what he was walking into. Pushing the door to the inn open, the keeper snorted awake at his desk, staring at the winged mage with a bewildered look on his face. "Th-this is an Inn, right?" the waltz asked, turning to double check that he had walked into the right building. By the look the innkeeper was giving him, the mage was afraid that he had intruded into someone's home.
"Y-yeah...just you?" the innkeeper asked and rummaged around for his guestbook, opening it on the desk.
"Just me," he confirmed.
"Um, name and signature...." the innkeeper asked, pushing a quill and inkwell towards his newest guest. The waltz hesitated a moment, but took the quill in his hand, jotting down his name. "....Mortimer? Don't get many Mortimers around here."
"Heh, yeah," the waltz chuckled, paying the innkeeper the fee.
"Rooms are through there." he said and pointed, closing up his book and settling back down on the desk.
"Thank you," he replied and went in, closing the doors behind him. He gave a small sigh, shaking his head. Why had he done that? He was always referred to as One, he knew his number was One...so why did that name have such signifigance? "....a new name for a new beginning."
He plopped down into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to remember how he had gotten there, who had called him One before and why he thought of it as his number...the last thing the waltz could remember was fighting...boy with a tail...pain...then darkness. Nothing before that.
Mortimer tried to calm his mind down, but the uneasiness of remembering nothing continuously loomed on his conscious no matter how much he tried to sleep. It seemed that rest was finally was within his reach until the door flew open, two men stomping into the room. "Wha---?"
"You're coming with us!" one of them ordered, swinging a hard, bean-bag like weapon over Mortimer's head, causing everything to go black once again.
oOoOoOOoOoOOOo
"Not again...." Mortimer mumbled to himself upon awaking, mentally cursing himself for getting knocked out again, knowing such blows couldn't be good for his mental health. Realizing that he eyes were open and his surroundings were still completely pitch black struck a sort of panic in his mind, only reinforced by the fact he couldn't move more than six inches or so. It was like his was trapped in some sort of box... "Help! Somebody please!"
"Is someone there?" another voice called back, quite a bit higher than the other men's, sounding much sharper and more snappy. Mortimer contemplated whether he was better off in the box and hidden or at the mercy of this new stranger. Deciding on the stranger, Mortimer replied.
"Here! I'm in a box, I think!" Mortimer called, hoping the stranger would get an idea of his direction.
"Don't stop talking, I can't find you if you're quiet!" the stranger ordered, the sound of footsteps getting closer.
"Wh-what should I talk about?" Mortimer asked innocently, not knowing what the stranger expected of him.
"Anything! Sing the Linblum National Anthem for all I care! ....what's your name?"
"Mortimer, m-my name's Mortimer."
"Uh-huh, and how'd you get here?"
"I don't know."
"Got it! Hold still!"
Mortimer couldn't help but cringe when the stranger pried the lid off of his containment area, the sudden flood of light causing him to squint. Mortimer didn't even turn to examine his rescuer until he checked himself and his surroundings. Boxes piled up in every corner, it seemed to be a storage facility of some sort, though the roots and moist smell told him that they were underground. In the distance he could hear the occasional 'kweh' of a chocobo and the constant hum and churning of machinary.
"Thank y---" Mortimer began, finally facing the stranger. They both seemed to be fascinated with one another, two waltzes seeing another of their own kind for the first time.
The stranger was much taller than he was, more...well crafted was a was to put it. The other waltz seemed to made for stealth and speed, his wings small and compact and figure lithe and thin. His robes however seemed to defy this logic of practicality, having billowing sleeves with ornate patterns and designs. Even his hat seemed ridiculous, adorned with two horn-like protrusions.
Not like Mortimer was much to look at. He was short and muscular, built like an A Type mage, though various events throughout his life had left him physically crippled. Though his back was hunched, he was still able to fly properly, much better than he could walk or run. Even his left hand would fail him most of the time, only good for ringing the bell that hung around his wrist. His robes were much simpler; a red overcoat and grey pants, a snowflake design stitched over each knee. The second waltz examined Mortimer for a few seconds before finally stating, "You're one of those rejects that they recycle, aren't you?"
"Reject?" Mortimer asked, quirking an eyebrow. "R-recycle?"
"Ah, nevermind," the taller waltz muttered, shaking his head. "If you know what's good for you, you'll follow me and don't fall behind, got it?"
"Got it," Mortimer replied with a nod. The other led the way through the network of storage rooms, past the row of strange machines that continued churning despite the fact no raw materials were being fed in and nothing was being produced. "What is all this?"
"Beats me," the taller waltz replied, peeking his head around the corner before signalling Mortimer to come forward. Though they were out of the storage facility, neither one of them seemed comfortable with setting up camp for the night. "You better be able to fly."
"What?" Mortimer asked and looked up, only to see his new companion talking flight. Mortimer quickly flapped after the other mage, both of them staying fairly low, as though afraid to be spotted. Finally, the taller waltz came in for a landing, the village of Dali far behind them, a peaceful pond and lightly wooded area before them.
"We'll rest here." the new waltz said, plopping down near a tree.
"O-okay," Mortimer agreed, sitting beside his rescuer. "What's your name?"
"...Two," the other waltz replied.
"Oh...don't you have a name besides your number?" Mortimer asked. Two didn't seem pleased by the question, but shook his head.
"Never picked one out," Two said, leaning against the tree. "How'd you come up with Mortimer?"
"...I don't know," he lied. "But I can help you pick one out!"
"...shoot." Two said, allowing his new travelling companion to proceed. Mortimer began examining their surroundings, Two and what he was doing.
"Um...Leaf?" Mortimer shrugged.
"Try another one," Two said, picking up a fallen branch.
"Draco? Libra? Orion?" Mortimer suggested, looking up at the constellations. He didn't know where he had learned their names from, but each suggestion was sequentially shot down.
"Too overused, too girly, too old."
"Frog?" Mortimer said, watching one hop by.
"Same category as Leaf." Two muttered. Mortimer decided to make it a bit more personal, examining Two.
"Um...Horn-y?" Mortimer said, his gaze set on Two's unusual hat.
"No. Just...no," Two declined, starting to use his claws to scratch the bark off the stick he had picked up.
"How about Talon?" Mortimer suggested. Two was silent for a few moments before nodding.
"I like that one." Two replied with a nod. It wasn't overbearing or fake...it seemed to fit him very well.
"So I'll call you Talon from now on." Mortimer confirmed, the other black waltz giving him a nod.
"Sounds good," Talon replied, a smile lit in his eyes.
Though they had just met, Mortimer had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
oOoOoOo
Drip drip....
Splashes and drips echoed throughout the thawing cavern, the creature that had created the blizzard now laying in a pathetic heap, barely able to hang onto his life as the new waterfall bombarded him from above. His clothes soaked and blood stained, the waltz struggled to open his eyes, clutching desperately to the rock that held him above the water's hungry surface. His body felt paralyzed beneath the rushing rapids, the crash of it causing his head to pound. His recent defeat left him in a disasterous state of mind; confused, frightened and dazed. But one thing was certain, he had to move to save himself. Focusing his mind on the seemingly simple task of swimming, the waltz pushed himself from the rock and was pulled down by the current. After a few moments of thrashing, the waltz floated up to the surface gasping for air. 'Have to get....to shore....'
His mind focused solely on this task, the mage was able to propel himself towards the rocky shelf that led to the exit of the cavern. Pulling himself out of the water proved to be a much harder task than swimming, his clothes and feathers completely soaked. Drained of all energies, magical and physical, he collapsed in a heap and slipped into unconsciousness.
"Mortimer, get up!"
"Huh..?"
The waltz found himself laying on his back in a snowdrift, the winter ridden town of Alexandria his surroundings. Before he could get another word out, the girl who had called to him whipped a snowball in his direction. He lifted a wing to defend himself, but the snowball whizzed past harmlessly, missing its target. The girl laughed and hugged her cerulean garments closer, curly black hair covered in snow. "You won't be so lucky next time Mort!" she called, running across the road as she began to make another snowball. Though the woman was young, the mage could almost sense her maternal and protective personality, as though remembering her from long ago.
The waltz went to sit up and the scene disappeared around him, revealing that he was truly alone in the night darkened cavern. It all seemed so real, why was he here now?
Black Waltz One stood, now rested and recovered from the battle he had fought, though very bewildered by the dream he had just awoken from. Had it simply been a dream? He couldn't recall having such a vivid dream before, nor really dreaming much of anything. "Best not to worry about it..." he murmured to himself as he began the ascent up the rocky hill and out of the cavern's exit, his gaze falling on the slumbering town of Dali. It looked like a good enough place to stay the night. It would give him the chance to sort out his racing thoughts and plan his next move.
It seemed like a good enough plan, simple and straightforward. However, the waltz didn't have the slightest idea on what he was walking into. Pushing the door to the inn open, the keeper snorted awake at his desk, staring at the winged mage with a bewildered look on his face. "Th-this is an Inn, right?" the waltz asked, turning to double check that he had walked into the right building. By the look the innkeeper was giving him, the mage was afraid that he had intruded into someone's home.
"Y-yeah...just you?" the innkeeper asked and rummaged around for his guestbook, opening it on the desk.
"Just me," he confirmed.
"Um, name and signature...." the innkeeper asked, pushing a quill and inkwell towards his newest guest. The waltz hesitated a moment, but took the quill in his hand, jotting down his name. "....Mortimer? Don't get many Mortimers around here."
"Heh, yeah," the waltz chuckled, paying the innkeeper the fee.
"Rooms are through there." he said and pointed, closing up his book and settling back down on the desk.
"Thank you," he replied and went in, closing the doors behind him. He gave a small sigh, shaking his head. Why had he done that? He was always referred to as One, he knew his number was One...so why did that name have such signifigance? "....a new name for a new beginning."
He plopped down into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to remember how he had gotten there, who had called him One before and why he thought of it as his number...the last thing the waltz could remember was fighting...boy with a tail...pain...then darkness. Nothing before that.
Mortimer tried to calm his mind down, but the uneasiness of remembering nothing continuously loomed on his conscious no matter how much he tried to sleep. It seemed that rest was finally was within his reach until the door flew open, two men stomping into the room. "Wha---?"
"You're coming with us!" one of them ordered, swinging a hard, bean-bag like weapon over Mortimer's head, causing everything to go black once again.
oOoOoOOoOoOOOo
"Not again...." Mortimer mumbled to himself upon awaking, mentally cursing himself for getting knocked out again, knowing such blows couldn't be good for his mental health. Realizing that he eyes were open and his surroundings were still completely pitch black struck a sort of panic in his mind, only reinforced by the fact he couldn't move more than six inches or so. It was like his was trapped in some sort of box... "Help! Somebody please!"
"Is someone there?" another voice called back, quite a bit higher than the other men's, sounding much sharper and more snappy. Mortimer contemplated whether he was better off in the box and hidden or at the mercy of this new stranger. Deciding on the stranger, Mortimer replied.
"Here! I'm in a box, I think!" Mortimer called, hoping the stranger would get an idea of his direction.
"Don't stop talking, I can't find you if you're quiet!" the stranger ordered, the sound of footsteps getting closer.
"Wh-what should I talk about?" Mortimer asked innocently, not knowing what the stranger expected of him.
"Anything! Sing the Linblum National Anthem for all I care! ....what's your name?"
"Mortimer, m-my name's Mortimer."
"Uh-huh, and how'd you get here?"
"I don't know."
"Got it! Hold still!"
Mortimer couldn't help but cringe when the stranger pried the lid off of his containment area, the sudden flood of light causing him to squint. Mortimer didn't even turn to examine his rescuer until he checked himself and his surroundings. Boxes piled up in every corner, it seemed to be a storage facility of some sort, though the roots and moist smell told him that they were underground. In the distance he could hear the occasional 'kweh' of a chocobo and the constant hum and churning of machinary.
"Thank y---" Mortimer began, finally facing the stranger. They both seemed to be fascinated with one another, two waltzes seeing another of their own kind for the first time.
The stranger was much taller than he was, more...well crafted was a was to put it. The other waltz seemed to made for stealth and speed, his wings small and compact and figure lithe and thin. His robes however seemed to defy this logic of practicality, having billowing sleeves with ornate patterns and designs. Even his hat seemed ridiculous, adorned with two horn-like protrusions.
Not like Mortimer was much to look at. He was short and muscular, built like an A Type mage, though various events throughout his life had left him physically crippled. Though his back was hunched, he was still able to fly properly, much better than he could walk or run. Even his left hand would fail him most of the time, only good for ringing the bell that hung around his wrist. His robes were much simpler; a red overcoat and grey pants, a snowflake design stitched over each knee. The second waltz examined Mortimer for a few seconds before finally stating, "You're one of those rejects that they recycle, aren't you?"
"Reject?" Mortimer asked, quirking an eyebrow. "R-recycle?"
"Ah, nevermind," the taller waltz muttered, shaking his head. "If you know what's good for you, you'll follow me and don't fall behind, got it?"
"Got it," Mortimer replied with a nod. The other led the way through the network of storage rooms, past the row of strange machines that continued churning despite the fact no raw materials were being fed in and nothing was being produced. "What is all this?"
"Beats me," the taller waltz replied, peeking his head around the corner before signalling Mortimer to come forward. Though they were out of the storage facility, neither one of them seemed comfortable with setting up camp for the night. "You better be able to fly."
"What?" Mortimer asked and looked up, only to see his new companion talking flight. Mortimer quickly flapped after the other mage, both of them staying fairly low, as though afraid to be spotted. Finally, the taller waltz came in for a landing, the village of Dali far behind them, a peaceful pond and lightly wooded area before them.
"We'll rest here." the new waltz said, plopping down near a tree.
"O-okay," Mortimer agreed, sitting beside his rescuer. "What's your name?"
"...Two," the other waltz replied.
"Oh...don't you have a name besides your number?" Mortimer asked. Two didn't seem pleased by the question, but shook his head.
"Never picked one out," Two said, leaning against the tree. "How'd you come up with Mortimer?"
"...I don't know," he lied. "But I can help you pick one out!"
"...shoot." Two said, allowing his new travelling companion to proceed. Mortimer began examining their surroundings, Two and what he was doing.
"Um...Leaf?" Mortimer shrugged.
"Try another one," Two said, picking up a fallen branch.
"Draco? Libra? Orion?" Mortimer suggested, looking up at the constellations. He didn't know where he had learned their names from, but each suggestion was sequentially shot down.
"Too overused, too girly, too old."
"Frog?" Mortimer said, watching one hop by.
"Same category as Leaf." Two muttered. Mortimer decided to make it a bit more personal, examining Two.
"Um...Horn-y?" Mortimer said, his gaze set on Two's unusual hat.
"No. Just...no," Two declined, starting to use his claws to scratch the bark off the stick he had picked up.
"How about Talon?" Mortimer suggested. Two was silent for a few moments before nodding.
"I like that one." Two replied with a nod. It wasn't overbearing or fake...it seemed to fit him very well.
"So I'll call you Talon from now on." Mortimer confirmed, the other black waltz giving him a nod.
"Sounds good," Talon replied, a smile lit in his eyes.
Though they had just met, Mortimer had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.