That could mean one of two things— that Vaan was stalling, having none of the magic power to do either, or that Vaan sincerely knew not what Larsa meant. Quickly he assumed the former, exchanging glances with the door, sifting his belt for something useful. Easily, the both of them could recover mist by pacing around, however slowly. But whether they had the time was upto the stubborn wyvern beyond the door.
"Do you need an ether?" He offered a slender phial to Vaan. "I doubt it will go away if we wait. Unless there’s something else—?”
Not wanting to admit his lack of magic power, Vaan laughed off his embarrassment as he accepted the phial from Larsa. He supposed that his poor fumble for wording probably had given that away anyways. Feeling the resurgence of mist, he peeked out of one of the airship’s side windows.
It would seem the wyvern had nested itself just outside the door … but should they sneak up from behind while it still faced the other direction…
“I think we can surprise it if we stay quiet.”
He inched toward the door from the window, hovering over the handle and giving a silent nod to Larsa, waiting for his readiness.
I would probably say that I love Vaan’s general friendliness. I feel like he can see the good in most people or their introduction into his life unless they pose some threat to him or something that matters to him.
It wasn’t like Vaan to panick—but then again, one could never know. Larsa crossed his arms, a brow furrowed, looking intently to the door. Surely something could be done. He had potions, anyway… and how exactly had they found themselves in this predicament? Perhaps flying off with Vaan had not been—the best choice.
“Can’t you summon an Esper—? Or—have you the mist to perform a quickening?”
“An esper or a quickening,” he stated, more a reiteration than a question.
Larsa’s quick-thinking was a quality to be grateful for in moments like this. Hearing a swooping channel of wind on the opposite of the door, it was obvious the adversary wasn’t going anywhere. A wyvern, meaning flying enemy… White Whirl would probably be best, if he could muster the magic power to do so.
Send ‘SPIT IT OUT!’ and I’ll randomly generate a number. Whatever number it is, my muse will blurt it out to you! ((26))
“There is a wyvern outside this door and if we go out, it will eat us!”
Biting his lip, he considered the current state of passivity. To outwait the dragoon would be tedious, but action might only result in someone being hurt. Perhaps badgering the thing into anger had not been the best choice earlier.
“Who ever expects to find me anywhere as of late? The expectation, rather, is that I am shackled to imperial duties and that I sacrifice the cultivation of my individuality.” The young lord gave a light laugh, shuffling modestly a pair of hands behind his back, eyes eagerly alit. “It’s been too long, Vaan. How fares Dalmasca’s sky pirate?”
Vaan’s attempt to console Larsa could not overlook. Whether his words rung with fact or concern, it mattered not. Warmth relinquished the grip of anxiety from his breast, leaving the young lord a small, content smile. So maybe this was the pleasure of a true friendship: a person not knowing exactly what his friend wants to hear, yet attempting a consolation.
The small details, they always mattered.
His spirits rose again as did his tone. He wanted to shake off the bad feelings, he didn’t want to waste time. There was no telling when he would see next see Vaan. “Home is home, after all,” Larsa heartily agreed. “We’re both young, too. I wonder if you’ll ever get tired of traveling.” He then laughed. “I somehow don’t see that at all. Though… I do wonder what we’ll be like—you know, when we’re older.”
An image of Vaan he pulled from his mind: a man confident and well-traveled, skilled at his sword, and a great orator of ghastly tales—still lacking refinements and courtesy. It elicited another giggle.
The break of a smile had been relieving. Often times, it seemed people needed the reminders of purpose. For Larsa, it seemed to Vaan that he had always fought for the general well-being of others, which was admirable; Vaan could understand. Yet, working so diligently, one could lose sight of the original intent. At times, Vaan himself questioned just what led his heart in his adventures.
The concept of aging was one Vaan had little contemplation of. Sure, he had daydreams of his future, traveling the skies, with just the wind to guide him, but the concept of age was for those more forward thinking such as the other. Perhaps Larsa would look alike to his brother. Only, his leadership would be more pure-hearted. The two had some appearance similarities, however, merely consequence from shared blood.
Laughing alongside him, Vaan replied,“I agree; that’s not likely to happen. I’d rather die in the skies than lazily settle down in some town without anything to do.”More thoughtfully, he continued though, “You’ll probably have your own projects and plans for Archadia, making history as some great leader.”
“Who ever expects to find me anywhere as of late? The expectation, rather, is that I am shackled to imperial duties and that I sacrifice the cultivation of my individuality.” The young lord gave a light laugh, shuffling modestly a pair of hands behind his back, eyes eagerly alit. “It’s been too long, Vaan. How fares Dalmasca’s sky pirate?”
Though indeed it was a jest, it struck a chord somewhere within his spirit, provoking thoughts long forsaken to rise from the dead. An interest he could barely call it; peace keeping had been his duty by birth. Should Larsa have not been born a Solidor, perhaps he’d have allowed himself to discover his passions and pursue them.
Reflection effectively altered the shape of his smile from mischievous to solemn. Regardless, chuckle championed a potential sigh. “I had a life before my political career, you know… It’s just that I owe so much of who I am to my status and to my people. True, I know not what I would do besides ensuring peace, but I can affirm my heart longs for something beyond it.”
Perhaps he spoke too freely; not often had he ventured to whine aloud. Guilt tugged at his heart as he hurried on.
“That isn’t to say I am discontent—just that I know there’s more to me than the Empire. Still, I would feel incomplete if I left the life I’ve built behind.”
Even that sounds weak.
Vaan had not anticipated his jest to be taken so gravely. The young man before him did appear to have a cumbersome duty. Yet, had not every leader he had met before? Not that a thief had much experience wearing them, but from his own pickings, he had found that all too often, crowns and ranking adornments held extensively would begin to feel much heavier than they appeared.
Though, he had not actually contemplated much beyond Larsa’s life prior to politics. The Solidor family had only seemed a continual enigma of power during the empire’s reign. What little personal life they held, appeared to Vaan at least, personal. “That makes sense,” Vaan thought aloud. Then reminding himself for the sake of clarity, he continued, “I mean, you spent a lot of time building something like that up. You couldn’t be expected to just leave it behind.”
Then in hopes of conveying empathy, “I could never leave Rabanastre long. Even with my travels, I still find myself returning home again and again.”
“Who ever expects to find me anywhere as of late? The expectation, rather, is that I am shackled to imperial duties and that I sacrifice the cultivation of my individuality.” The young lord gave a light laugh, shuffling modestly a pair of hands behind his back, eyes eagerly alit. “It’s been too long, Vaan. How fares Dalmasca’s sky pirate?”
Listened he well—and keenly—to Vaan’s passions articulated. The learning was sure to be useful at some point in his life, or at least, for the future reference of manuals. Any memory writ in the ink of zest one easily recalls, and Larsa did consider himself a practical learner. Between nods and brief acknowledgements, his smile fluxed, hands neatly resting in a grasp at the base of his back.
“So, you really have wanted this all your life…” He spoke up as the other finished. "Seems to you like a dream come true, eh? Not that you hadn’t built it yourself, but… There are those who become disillusioned at the moment of their success. Nice to see you’re not one of them.”
Admittedly, Vaan had earlier in his life desired this life as a means of escape. The initial intent may have been too easily disillusioned. Such thoughts he kept to himself, however. Few knew of his true feelings before besides Ashe, whom he had confided in long ago. Now there was no hesitation in his dream. So long had he admired from afar the lifestyle in the air. It may not have been that exaggerated fantasy the boy he had been dreamed of, but it was freedom. That alone made the life worthwhile. He took Larsa’s statements as complimentary regardless and let out a soft laugh,“Thanks. I’m glad to know I’m not betraying my dream either.” Then thinking of the lord’s other comment, “Even if it fell into my lap.”
“But what about you, Larsa? Don’t tell me you would so easily lose interest in spreading you peace you had always wanted?” He jested.
“Naminé…” He echoed, blinking, as the realization dawned on him. Snapped his gaze to her, frantic ‘neath composed warmth. "Oh, dear, how rude of me! I have yet to introduce myself, haven’t I?” He bowed his head, a hand on his heart. She was a lady, after all. “My name is Larsa Solidor. I am—a friend of Vaan’s." Raising his head, he tossed a brow in way of his comrade. Little more need be disclosed to strangers, no matter how polite or… gentle. "Isn’t that right, Vaan?”
Honestly Vaan was all too happy about her admitting that he probably shouldn’t return the thing that he had grabbed, and she opened her mouth to say something in return, but was distracted by the voice of the other young man. Apparently they were friends, and she pulled a slight smile to her face in greeting, nodding to the boy—Larsa. ”Hello, Larsa, it’s nice to meet a friend of Vaan's. I’m Naminé.”
A second thought, Vaan realized that the two were likely not acquainted.
“Oh, yeah. I should’ve thought to introduce you guys, but we all seem to know each other now.” The two seemed to be getting along pleasantly, Vaan noticed. Each had their own formalities he supposed. Larsa so easily revealed his nobility, while it felt that Naminé so nimbly danced around with her words out of consideration for others.
Her words earned from him a nod of agreement, distracting him amply from the courtesy of introduction. Instead, his focus returned to Vaan.
“Do as you like,” shrugged the young lord. “You are a sky pirate. You don’t cater to laws and restrictions, remember? I’ll just pretend I didn’t see you.”
Apparently these two knew each other—or appeared to know each other at least, but it wasn’t like she knew whether or not they did, and she did not want to ask. It seemed to infringe upon their privacy, which she did not necessarily want to do. ”Returning it would be the right thing to do, though it is more likely to get you caught,” she admitted with a sigh, knowing there was nothing she could really do.
The two did have good points, at least what of them Vaan had chosen to register. Almost proudly then, he changed his demeanor, “You’re right, Larsa, I don’t.” Then turning to the other blonde, he continued his boldness with a jovial smile,“You too, Naminé. To return it would only be a hassle. Glad you understand.”
Pocketing is lesser souvenir, he continued to have that oblivious smile upon his face.
“Who ever expects to find me anywhere as of late? The expectation, rather, is that I am shackled to imperial duties and that I sacrifice the cultivation of my individuality.” The young lord gave a light laugh, shuffling modestly a pair of hands behind his back, eyes eagerly alit. “It’s been too long, Vaan. How fares Dalmasca’s sky pirate?”
At this, he laughed lightly. “A co-pilot? So you prefer company to flying solo?” Returned his gaze to Vaan, a bemused grin on eager lips. “Or does that indicate a lack of confidence in your skill, perhaps? All joking aside…” Sheepishly his nose crinkled. “Would it be an imposition to ask for pointers? I’ve always wanted to know the mechanics of an airship— beyond bookish exploits, I mean.”
Not wanting to admit to what inexperience he had as a young pilot, Vaan let out an awkward laugh to Larsa’s teasing. He had flown frequently enough to quickly learn many things one could not in mere observation, which helped, but there were still some suggestions of amateurishness. The proposition to give advise was one he greeted with welcome enthusiasm, “Sure! If you look, there’s the yoke to control steering, and this monitors the propulsion created from the skystones.”Babbling into various mechanical jargon, Vaan began detailing the controls before them with delight.
