Subj: [ffml] [HD] Why am I here? I want to go home. Date: 01-04-02 12:58:32 EDT From: raumkatze2@aol.com Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com Aaron enjoyed hearing one of his favorite songs, Sweet Child o' Mine, playing while he trained, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the ever-growing frustration he felt. The conversation with Scott back at the Diner hadn't gone at all like he had expected. After Scott had asked him about the story, Aaron had told him a little about the ffml, and the basic idea of the Moogle War stories and how different writers control certain characters of their own creation. He told him about his own character, Junior, and then was about to tell him about Larathia's real-world counterpart, Shalom Owen, but this seemed to offend Scott. Aaron could tell that Scott did not appreciate being told that his actions were controlled by someone else, even though that was not Aaron's point at all. Aaron wasn't even sure whether this world was affected by writers in his world or vice-versa. After Scott had taken Aaron's comments the wrong way, Aaron wasn't sure what to say for a few minutes. Then Scott left Diner without saying a word to Aaron. While Aaron ate the rest of his food hastily, wondering if Scott was also offended by his unintentionally slow eating, he realized that he had forgotten to tell Scott the most important detail about the Moogle Wars, namely what really happened at the end of Moogle War III. He decided to wait until later to tell him, after he had cooled down from their previous conversation. Aaron's thoughts were thrown violently back into the present time as he parried another of Scott's attacks. He was feeling better about his sword skills now, and was starting to believe that he might just be able to defend himself with these skills. But still, going up against Arc's villain seemed like an impossible task. This Deets sword better be pretty darn powerful, he thought. Then something occured to him. Drugga and Nicotron Z were going to Wangland. He wondered if he would encounter them. He pondered this. On one hand, it would be interesting to actually see them and hear the way Drugga talks. On the other hand, it would probably be dangerous to encounter them, considering Drugga's warlike ways and his current alliance with Golbez. Aaron wondered when Scott would decide it's time to go to Wangland to get the sword. He wondered if that would be before or after they found Larathia. Hopefully before. He also hoped that Scott knew how to get to Wangland, because he sure didn't. When he wanted his characters to go somewhere in these stories, he just had them wander around and end up there. He couldn't even remember where Doma and Nikeah were on the FF3 map, and he wasn't even completely sure which FF3 map this world was more like. Then Aaron started to wonder when Arc's villain would make a move. He kidnapped her to get to Scott, right? So how come he hadn't contacted Scott yet? Aaron didn't understand. He also did not understand why Scott seemed more preoccupied with giving him an exhausing workout than with his wife's situation. But he didn't dare ask Scott about what was on his mind, or what he had planned, he just kept training, hoping Scott would take a break some time soon. Subj: [ffml] [HD] Priority Date: 01-04-03 20:51:08 EDT From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: hilliondynasty@egroups.com, ffml@yahoogroups.com Scott was not a happy man. This was not exactly a new thing; the sheer monumental stupidity of the world often irritated him. Having to mask that irritation generally only added to it. But when Aaron, in all innocence, asked him if *he* knew how to get to Wangland - and admitted that he, Aaron, did not have a clue how to get there, it was all Scott could do to keep his training session a true training session, and not an out-and-out duel. The kid might be several bricks shy of a load, but he didn't deserve to be made hamburger over it. Held underwater for a few minutes maybe, to teach him not to open his mouth without thinking of the consequences...but not killed, per se. Self-control was a thing learned very early on in Scott's life - in just about every life he'd lived. So Aaron chattered away in blissful ignorance of his companion's rising ire. Or at least, if he *did* notice, he was not aware of how dangerous it was to be around. So there had to be *some* blissful ignorance going around. Ah, Larathia, he thought. Would that I could just hand this one over to you, and let you scare the bejeezus out of him. Scott was terrible at intimidation, at least to a certain type of person. He dealt in subtle clues; a chill to his stare, a stiffness to his posture. Wise persons read those clues and left town. Which just left peple like Aaron, who usually had no idea they were being annoying until Scott bit their head off, after which point - since they still couldn't read the clues - they usually stayed away. Which was not always a good thing. Larathia had dealt with fools far longer, and had abandoned any thought of subtlety in dealing with them. The *first* warning was when she put a dagger to their throat, and told them to shut up or she'd cut them a new smile. Thinking about the possibilities this offered, Scott managed to calm down a bit. He wound the practice down - since Aaron looked ready to drop - and headed for the Bear, digging out his laptop and Larathia's archives. Entering 'Wangland' didn't net him a damn thing. However, entering 'Grove of the Fallen' did. It was on an island east of Nikeah, where Doma had been. Perhaps still was; it was hard to say. However, it did at least seem that they'd been heading in the right direction, even if only by pure chance. The final battle had taken place on that rather large island, it seemed. He blew out a long breath. He'd died rather a lot on that island, and wasn't looking forward to going back. He probably knew a great deal more about avariel than did Aaron, having been married to one for so long, and he hoped that the boy's planning skills weren't as bad as they looked or getting into and out of that Grove with a whole skin wouldn't be easy. It was times like this that Scott really regretted having a conscience. He knew if he blew this kid off and went in search of his wife, the boy would be dead inside a week. If he was lucky. He knew Larathia was alive, if not exactly happy or well, in her prison. He knew, too, that she was hoping to learn something of their adversary, and would attempt to escape after such attempts either bore fruit or were proven useless. He had every faith that she would, indeed, escape. But simply leaving her to it while he jogged around the world with a...a *tourist*....just didn't sit right. Well, he'd soon know whether Doma still stood. He'd go down to the docks and find out how much passage was. If, like the monster islands, only runner-ships went there, then Doma had fallen. If it still stood, it was close enough that he could probably get passage on a ferry. Either way, Aaron would get at least a few days of training in before a ship landed on the island's shores. Scott held no illusions of training Aaron to be a peer; he just wanted the kid to have a good enough grasp of the basics so that he could hold his own against a monster, using a normal everyday blade. Hopefully this ultra-powerful magic sword in the Grove would take care of the rest. And the nice thing about that was, if it *did* make him ultra powerful, enough to defeat Scott with the blade - and it became necessary - Larathia could probably shoot him between the eyes from half a mile away. Swords were limited like that. Scott's expression softened as he called Aaron over to the Bear, thinking...gunblades *aren't* limited like that. At least, Zephyr isn't. "Yeah?" panted Aaron. "Find something G-rated to grab on to, we're headed for the docks. We'll need a ship to reach Wangland." At least he didn't try to asphyxiate him again. Damn, it still felt weird to have a guy sitting on the Bear behind him. He'd have to have a talk with Larathia about her notion of romantic presents; next time, he definitely wanted a pickup. He kicked the stand up and set the Bear in motion, heading for the Nikeah port. Larathia Subj: [ffml] [HD] On the Wide Open Sea Date: 01-04-06 19:13:33 EDT From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com Scott stood in the bow of the ship, holding his balance easily as it rode the waves. There was too much salt spray in the air; he'd taken his hair out of its habitual ponytail and let it fall in a loose mane around his shoulders. It was times like this that being alone felt worst; usually having his hair out of its ponytail would draw Larathia out from wherever she was, to come and play with it. She was the only reason it was so long in the first place; he blew wet bangs away from his face in annoyance. He hoped she'd get around to escaping soon. At least Aaron had gotten the hint. It had taken everything short of a barked 'go away' to get the message across that he wasn't in the mood for company. It wasn't that he actually *disliked* the boy, as such. Not in an active, damage-causing way, anyway. But his propensity for swallowing his own foot repeatedly had landed him on Scott's list of Stupid People, and Scott had little patience with Stupid People. Besides, they were on a *ship*. What the hell could the kid do on a *ship*? Scott grimaced. Better not think about that. There was no such thing as an idiot-proof conveyance. This was as close as he could come to just shutting the world out. Standing at the very prow of the ship, out of every sailor's way, listening to music over his headphones. At this point he was glad he'd spent the extra money for a waterproof, shockproof model. It was Yanni today, slow and melodic. One of his more unusual favorites, and absolutely useless for bladesong training. But it fit his mood, and the endless view of water, and it didn't make him think of anything in particular. Of course, that didn't stop his thoughts from wandering. He wondered how fast he could get away once the kid had his sword, and whether it would be safe to just take off at that point. He wondered why Aaron kept thinking it was vitally important to talk about the end of the last Moogle War, as though he, Scott, had not been there. Hadn't died in the battle, actually, perforated by an exceedingly large number of moogle spears. It was his wife that was obsessed with it; it was Larathia who couldn't let the deaths of those avariel go. For him, it was just another battle. Well, mostly - he did remember that being stuck with two dozen moogle spears was both an incredibly painful death, and that he'd gotten off lightly by not being kupo'd first. Apparently human beings still lived in Doma. At least, there was the occasional ferry. Mostly the trade was runner-ships, which led Scott to believe that any settlements were probably few and far between, the sort of places that saw a trade caravan maybe once a year and threw a party to celebrate it. Or the Domans were now an exceedingly insular lot who didn't go in much for visitors. He'd let Aaron go first in any villages, he decided. The boy had an amazing ability to walk into social situations that *should* get him skinned and pinned to the nearest bar, and come out with exactly what he'd come for. Scott would call it fool's luck, but he suspected that the reason Aaron survived was that no one honestly expected that anyone would go into the places he chose to go and ask the questions he chose to ask unless they were so amazingly competent it was death to tangle with them. They'd never believe anyone could be so stupid as to go there, and say that, without *any* firepower at all. It was an education, to say the least. He knew better than to think his own presence was a deterrent; he was good with his blade - better than good, he knew - but he didn't *look* like a hero. He was tall and thin, and in no way overtly muscled. And of course there was the long brown hair; *everybody* knew only gay men wore their hair long. Or bikers. Perhaps the Bear had its uses after all. Damnit. He had the afternoon to himself after putting the kid through his morning paces, and by God he was going to try and enjoy it. There was another week of this boredom before they hit shore again. He flicked the CD player off, and wrapped up the headphones, storing them in a carrysack he toted around. He blew his wet bangs out of his eyes again, and decided he would just have to find out whether ships were in any way as interesting as trains. It wasn't like there was anything else to do. Larathia Subj: [ffml] [HD] On the Wide Open Sea Date: 01-04-06 19:13:33 EDT From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com Scott stood in the bow of the ship, holding his balance easily as it rode the waves. There was too much salt spray in the air; he'd taken his hair out of its habitual ponytail and let it fall in a loose mane around his shoulders. It was times like this that being alone felt worst; usually having his hair out of its ponytail would draw Larathia out from wherever she was, to come and play with it. She was the only reason it was so long in the first place; he blew wet bangs away from his face in annoyance. He hoped she'd get around to escaping soon. At least Aaron had gotten the hint. It had taken everything short of a barked 'go away' to get the message across that he wasn't in the mood for company. It wasn't that he actually *disliked* the boy, as such. Not in an active, damage-causing way, anyway. But his propensity for swallowing his own foot repeatedly had landed him on Scott's list of Stupid People, and Scott had little patience with Stupid People. Besides, they were on a *ship*. What the hell could the kid do on a *ship*? Scott grimaced. Better not think about that. There was no such thing as an idiot-proof conveyance. This was as close as he could come to just shutting the world out. Standing at the very prow of the ship, out of every sailor's way, listening to music over his headphones. At this point he was glad he'd spent the extra money for a waterproof, shockproof model. It was Yanni today, slow and melodic. One of his more unusual favorites, and absolutely useless for bladesong training. But it fit his mood, and the endless view of water, and it didn't make him think of anything in particular. Of course, that didn't stop his thoughts from wandering. He wondered how fast he could get away once the kid had his sword, and whether it would be safe to just take off at that point. He wondered why Aaron kept thinking it was vitally important to talk about the end of the last Moogle War, as though he, Scott, had not been there. Hadn't died in the battle, actually, perforated by an exceedingly large number of moogle spears. It was his wife that was obsessed with it; it was Larathia who couldn't let the deaths of those avariel go. For him, it was just another battle. Well, mostly - he did remember that being stuck with two dozen moogle spears was both an incredibly painful death, and that he'd gotten off lightly by not being kupo'd first. Apparently human beings still lived in Doma. At least, there was the occasional ferry. Mostly the trade was runner-ships, which led Scott to believe that any settlements were probably few and far between, the sort of places that saw a trade caravan maybe once a year and threw a party to celebrate it. Or the Domans were now an exceedingly insular lot who didn't go in much for visitors. He'd let Aaron go first in any villages, he decided. The boy had an amazing ability to walk into social situations that *should* get him skinned and pinned to the nearest bar, and come out with exactly what he'd come for. Scott would call it fool's luck, but he suspected that the reason Aaron survived was that no one honestly expected that anyone would go into the places he chose to go and ask the questions he chose to ask unless they were so amazingly competent it was death to tangle with them. They'd never believe anyone could be so stupid as to go there, and say that, without *any* firepower at all. It was an education, to say the least. He knew better than to think his own presence was a deterrent; he was good with his blade - better than good, he knew - but he didn't *look* like a hero. He was tall and thin, and in no way overtly muscled. And of course there was the long brown hair; *everybody* knew only gay men wore their hair long. Or bikers. Perhaps the Bear had its uses after all. Damnit. He had the afternoon to himself after putting the kid through his morning paces, and by God he was going to try and enjoy it. There was another week of this boredom before they hit shore again. He flicked the CD player off, and wrapped up the headphones, storing them in a carrysack he toted around. He blew his wet bangs out of his eyes again, and decided he would just have to find out whether ships were in any way as interesting as trains. It wasn't like there was anything else to do. Larathia ======================== Nothing is serious to me I live with what will be You can always be a dreamer So trust your heart Don't fall apart You'll see - at your journey's end You will find a friend in me. --The Moody Blues, "Highway" ========================