#grahatia

It was quite the extraordinary skill, G’raha had to admit, especially for a twelve-year-old, and not one he had ever heard of even at the Baldesion school. So when she took him to meet a friend of hers, he was not at all surprised to find that said friend was in fact a moogle. 

At a dry clearing far from the village, with the setting sun casting shifting shadows on the forest floor, Nayra retrieved a whistle from her pocket and gave it a short melodious trill. The wind shifted and the boughs seemed to tremble under its weight. A moment later, something popped into existence between them in a glamorous twirl of its small pink wings.

“Lovely to see you again, kupo!” Red pom bobbed above snowy fur. “How can I help you in this lovely afternoon, kupo?” 

“Moguo!” Nayra beamed. “Thank Menphina you came! I didn’t think you’d actually answer the whistle.”

The moogle ruffled its fur self-importantly. “I gave you my word, kupo, and a moogle keeps his word. Now, how may I be of service?” 

It was then that Nayra glanced at G’raha, drawing Moguo’s own attention to him. It was clear the moogle had not expected there to be another person with them, as it jerked, fluttered helplessly in midair, before shoving its small beady eyes on Nayra’s face.

“I thought I’d made it clear none other should know of our pact, kupo!” Moguo hissed. “You’ve already shown me to your sister, which was clearly a violation to our rule that I decided to ignore seeing as she was your close sister, and now th—”

Nayra pushed the flapping moogle away from her face and smiled apologetically at G’raha. “Sorry, Raha, did I surprise you?”

“Him surprised!?” the moogle shouted. 

Indeed, G’raha had been staring at Moguo and the entire exchange rather dubiously, though it was not due to the moogle’s presence per se. He was more surprised at the fact that Nayra had summoned such an elusive, quite revered creature of the woods, through some flute, like some manner of canine or familiar—

His crimson-and-teal eyes widened at the thought. “You have a familiar?” It wouldn’t be quite the stretch. Nayra’s family was quite adept in magick. Though Nayra might not have the level of prowess others in her tribe had, her understanding of animal tongue should count as a kind of magick, too, right?

However, what met his innocent—though quite clever—observation was not a nod of confirmation but silence, short and bemused before one of them burst into laughter while the other fumed with irritation, each sharp, indignant beat of its wings sending gusts of wind that could have cut a leaf in half.

“Familiar!?” the moogle shrieked. “Me!? The Great Moguo, Ninth of His Name, Traveler of the Star!?”

G’raha blinked at the unexpected reaction. 

“Now listen here, you son of a—”

“Now, that’s enough.” Nayra bobbed the moogle’s head with enough force that would leave a bruise at least and a huge bump at most. “I’m not having you scare my dear friend away, Moguo.”

Moguo groaned, bringing his little paws up to his head as he hovered feebly. “One of these days, I will sharpen my knife, kupo.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said that a dozen times.”

“Only because you’ve been calling me for no reason.”

“Hey, I gave you kupo nuts. Surely that was reason enough.”

Moguo seemed to waver at that, but he still had his body turned away, pom drooping either in pain or vexation. For some reason Nayra had the upper hand in their relationship.

“Anyway, I do have a good reason for calling you today.”

At that, the moogle perked. He made a show of clearing his throat before he flapped his wings and twirled in the air. With a rather ostentatious swish, he landed on midair in front of Nayra and said, “So what can I do for you, kupo?” His beady eyes looked rather expectantly at her, but the grin on Nayra’s face seemed to speak otherwise.

“Do you have another flute you can give him?”

Moguo had definitely not been expecting that request, and even G’raha was left dumbfounded.

“A flute?” the moogle repeated. His thin brows twitched; he looked over his shoulder at G’raha, eyes narrowing. “For him?”

G’raha had to take a step back and raise his arms in surrender lest the moogle thought it prudent to send a gale his way. “I have no idea what she’s talking about,” he said quickly.

But Nayra only beamed and said, “Yes! You know how moogles have these pockets of aether you can slip through from any corner of the star?”

“Not any corner, kupo,” Moguo amended her, but Nayra wasn’t listening.

“Is that not how you can simply flit through from one place to another in no time at all?” 

Moguo sighed heavily. “Again, not from every corner, kupo,” he said. “Those pockets of aether are only found in regions rich in aether.”

“So the Isles of Val too then?”

This time G’raha shifted his befuddled gaze at Nayra. What was she going on about?

Moguo shrugged. “Technically, yes.”

“So, should I ask you to send my letter to him, you could—technically—deliver it to him in no time at all?”

G’raha’s jaw dropped. His bewildered look no doubt mirrored Moguo’s own. He could not believe Nayra just asked a guardian of the Twelveswood to act as her mailman.

Moguo had a lot he wanted to say to that. All heavenly curses would have spilled forth from his little mouth, but Nayra’s pleading gaze stopped him. Eventually, with as much reluctance and the slowness of a snail, he fetched another identical flute from whatever aether pocket he kept. G’raha was more interested in those pockets and mode of travel, but sensing the moogle’s unexpressed aggravation, he kept the question to himself. 

“You really don’t have to do this, uh, Moguo,” G’raha said when the moogle dropped the little flute in his palm, aversion clearly painted across his features.

The moogle only huffed. “Nothing I can do, kupo. I made a promise to her, and a moogle keeps his promises.”

“What kind of promise?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

Moguo pursed his thin lips. “She saved my life, and I vowed to answer her call should she ever need me.”

That was a huge favor, G’raha thought to himself, though he doubted that had included being Nayra’s private postal service.

“Anyway, you know how a flute works, yes, kupo?”

G’raha nodded. The flute, small and delicate, was beautifully carved from wood G’raha was not familiar with. An elegant vine was engraved onto its surface, circling the thin hollowed cylinder in graceful swishes. 

“You blow from this end, give it a little melodious trill.”

G’raha did, matching the tone he’d heard Nayra had made. Moguo nodded in satisfaction. “Lovely, kupo. Now, if you could please attune to it. Once it records your aetherial signature, I’ll be able to find you wherever you are.” At G’raha’s baffled stare, the moogle scoffed. “You travel a lot. You won’t always be at Val when Nayra sends her letters, so having your signature in my compendium helps me track your whereabouts.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “She just can’t stop talking about you.”

At that, G’raha felt heat rush up his neck, but when he spared Nayra a glance, she only smiled at him, oblivious. Curse this hammering in his heart.

He broke eye contact, then focused his attention on the flute. Blue wisps of aether wrapped around it until it glowed a brilliant gold. 

“Fantastic,” Moguo remarked. “Now you can call me and I will be able to track you.” He whirled around to Nayra. “Will that suffice, kupo?”

Nayra grinned in delight. “Thank you, Moguo! You’re the best.”

The moogle made one last exasperated huff before he floated away. At the last moment, he turned back and glared his beady eyes at G’raha. “Do not—and I repeat: do not—call me if you don’t have any need of me, understand, kupo?”

“I understand.”

Moguo hmphed, then in another flurry of wings and wind, he disappeared from sight. G’raha looked around, but he knew that when a moogle had gone inside their pockets of aether, there was no way to track their movements.

Beside him, Nayra said, “Now we can contact each other any time we want.”

G’raha smiled wryly at her. “Even so, I don’t think we should overwork a guardian of the Twelveswood for our selfish needs.”

“Oh, he’s not from the Twelveswood,” Nayra said, which perked his attention. “I met him in Dravania, being set upon by wild chocobos. Poor thing. He said he came from the clouds and was quite winded after barely escaping a horde of aevis. I told him there was no need to repay me, but he was quite adamant to keep his word, so I thought this way might work to both our advantage.”