SNIP: Life of a Planet
I haven't posted anything in quite awhile. I haven't really been working on much besides school stuff. But I got a bit of a boost to do some writing today, mainly with where this snippet comes from. So I figured I'd post a scene from it. Heh.
Life of a Planet; Reunion
The Strahl circled the land from above. Nono’s complaints about needing new parts were left unheard by Balthier, and it was Fran who had to later remind him about their ship’s fate. He at last seemed to realize, looking up from the ship’s controls and meeting his partner’s eyes. “Right then,” he sighed. “We need to restock supplies, anyway.” He nodded down at the land below, the tops of shrines reaching up to them. “Here is a good of place as any.”
Fran gave a small nod and looked back towards Nono. “We will see what we can find here, for now. The craftsmoogles may have something of use to lend.”
“Kupopo! But they’re not use to working on airships, they won’t have what I need! We should be docking in a port for repairs!” the moogle complained, wrench waving through the air.
Fran frowned. “We know this. You must be patient for now, and work with what we can find you.”
The moogle looked like more needed to be said, but resigned into silence and wandered out of the room. Fran was grateful, already knowing many of their head mechanic’s frustrations. They all had their own, building up more and more as time went on, and maybe too much was becoming stuffed down and bottled up.
Nevertheless, they anchored the ship in the Babbling Vale of Mosphoran Highwaste, and went down into the area hoping to find someone selling the wares that they were looking for. Even the simplest items of potions and Phoenix Downs were needed. Maybe a new sword; theirs were becoming rustic, and while they preferred guns and bows, some situations always called for a backup. And they’ve been needing backups far too often lately.
They were in luck, for once. There were already two caravans in the area, and a third was pulling in and setting up. A fire roared in the center, several people - children and adults and moogles alike - gathered around it, chatting, eating, dancing. A large wagon sat on each side of a spread of wares, laid out of multi-colored weaves. A bangaa and an old woman watched over the items, making conversation and good trade with a trio of travelers.
On the other end of the vale, near the shimmering orange crystal, were stacks of crates and baskets. Most of the children were making their own dance there, craftsmoogles hanging from the supply, kicking their feet idly and singing and humming music for the group. A child sat atop the crates, drumming beats with his hands. Their laughter was music enough for the adults around the fire.
The third caravan, led by two chocobos, pulled up near this group and began to unload. Several people from the area, even some of the travelers, moved to help them unload. They set up strange lanterns on posts, that glittered magically like bunches of fireflies, around the vale where the firelight couldn’t reach. It lit up the dancing children and the moogles the most.
Activity ran wild. Lively. It was refreshing.
The pair of Sky Pirates walked down a path from their anchor and stopped, a bit surprised to look over the area, so full of life. They weren’t sure they had ever quite seen so much when stopping off at the Highwaste, though it was a rare occurrence anyway.
Their attention was drawn more to the gathering of kids than the fire. Several were grouped around a taller, patchwork-cloaked figure, who spun around with two who held his hands and pulled him. He smiled, eyes closed in solitude, but didn’t seem to join in on their laughter, but there was a sense of peace that emitted from him and radiated towards everyone present.
Balthier tapped his partner’s shoulder, and when that didn’t quite pull her attention, he sharp and quietly called out, “Fran.” She looked skeptically towards him and followed his gaze. Confusion glistened in her eyes as he walked towards the group of children, stopping nearby and setting his hands on his hips, a neutral expression on his face as he tried not to frown. “So… this is what becomes of a leading man?”
The tall figure jerked to a halt and the two kids pulling him were tripped up, tugging gently at his hands in a silent question of wondering what was wrong. The figure turned his head, a small amount of his face able to be seen in the hood of the cloak, enough of it to see the shock that registered in his eyes that reminded anyone of the desert. He couldn’t seem to speak.
Balthier didn’t stop though, arms moving to cross over his chest. “And here we all finally resigned to believing you to be dead, yet here you are, like a ghost. Who would have thought? What on earth have you been doing all this time?” He stared around at the area, then rose a brow when his eyes fell back on the boy. “Certainly not caravanning around? You left your poor partner all alone with the Arc-Horizon. Leave your own ship, even? I’m quite glad I never left the Strahl in your care. You would’ve left her, I bet, as well.”
Dry lips moved, as though the situation just dawned on him. “Balthier…”