#virtuousthief

virtuousthief 

     While he was able to get up and around, she knew better than to allow him to leave the safety of the Black Mage Village. They were still too raw. Their scars had barely enough time to scab over, even with the help of time and white magic. She could tell just by his swagger; he wasn’t ready to face anyone, no matter how “restless” and eager he was to leave.

    So, she wasn’t all to surprised when a Black Mage had tipped her off, seeing the older genome walking around with a pack over his shoulder. She had caught him not too long after at one of the more secluded edges of the village, one of her more frequented spots. The usual stillness in the air had changed with his appearance, allowing a shroud almost tangible static to hang about. Her gaze had narrowed on a familiar pack of hers. 

     At least he had the foresight to prepare himself, if even a little.

     It wouldn’t be enough. The monsters here weren’t ones that can be so easily taken down by someone who’s spent months of time with bed rest. Had he even handled his dagger since the event?

     She walked towards him. Ever confident in her steps, her gaze never settled anywhere beyond his, studying, assessing his reaction. It would be wise to squash the matter entirely, but an appeal to logic was not the only tool she could use when it came to him.   

Young Kuja (mentally, remember; he’s been 24 since he was created), with 3-year old Zidane. In my canon, there is a period of time where he simply holds on to the baby (ie, raises him) for nearly a year. So, that in mind:

Baby Ziddy desperately trying to keep up with Kuja. He grabs on to the tip of Kuja’s tail, and then promptly gets a face full of feathers. He sneezes, falls on his butt. Kuja laughs and picks him up with his tail. Instead of crying, Ziddy laughs because Kuja is laughing. This is the first time Ziddy figures out how to laugh.

{ om FG WAT IS THIS oh my GOSH I WASN’T PREPARED waaat *lays down in feels* :C this ain’t right, FRIENDS SHOULDN’T H URT FRIENDS }

{ *WAVES AT U AGGRESSIVELY FROM AFAR* i will make u a promo if u waaaant }

[[ this meme ]]

     Blood on his teeth when he smiles, the internal damage has become more than he can bare. He watches birds wheel by on outstretched wings far above the crooked fingers of the dying lifa and longs after the way the world looked from Axol’s back.

     He will not tell Zidane that he is jealous of the companions, that infuriating group of dimwits and tryhards. He didn’t save those people because he liked them, he saved them because they are Zidane’s. And Zidane is important. But he is jealous–maybe not of Zidane, but of the companions he goes to see. Maybe it is the solitude of his self-imposed prison, its empty halls and aching spaces.

     Maybe he misses his brother when he leaves.

     But Zidane has somewhere to go back to. He has a lady and friends and family. There is a whole world that knows Zidane’s name, he can’t spend all his time out in the middle of a desert. The fact that he comes to visit at all is something of a fascination, an anomaly. It makes no sense.

     So why, then, has he come to expect it?

     “I don’t…”

     Kuja’s teeth click shut. The muscles along his jaw visibly bunch as he clenches it. 

     “…there’s nothing to confess,” he hisses.

     What he won’t say is in the space between them when Zidane leaves, the part of his little brother that always, always invites him to come to Lindblum. The rash, devil-may-care fire in him when he talks about how the Tantalus will just have to deal, that he has a brother and someday he’s going to introduce him. Zidane never says it outright, but it is there. ‘Come with me.’

     And Kuja never asks, but he wants to.

     He only lets it show when Zidane turns his back to saddle that ridiculous bird. He lets it show when he knows Zidane can’t see, because he doesn’t believe in happy endings–