Essence of Wind

The breeze was carrying good news today, he could feel it.
A young man sat just inside the bar in Crescent, watching the clock anxiously and tapping his leather-shoed feet. He was an hour late. It was usual for him not to be on time, but this was a bit much. Surely he wouldn't forget, Bartz thought, not today. This was something they'd had planned for ages. Of course, Lenna or Krile could have called on him, or he couldn't have gotten out of a plundering spree, or--
His train of thought was interrupted by loud, angry footsteps and the gentle sound of dripping on hardwood floor. His eyes tore themselves away from the clock's face to see someone else's, mostly obscured by a mass of wet purple hair. "You made it!" Bartz cried delightedly while the other person brushed the soaked locks away.
"Think I'd miss a drink date with you, landlubber?" came the response, revealing a strand of seaweed stuck on their tongue, promptly scraped off with all the grace of a pirate. "Good to see you again, but by Neptune's beard, do I need a damned glass of whatever they're serving here. Did you order already?"
"Never mind that for now. Just tell me this. Did you-- swim all the way here?" he asked with a grin as he stepped out of his chair, nearly tripping on his adventurer's pack in the process.
"Only part way, thank you very much!"
"Your ship got sucked into Cid's workshop, didn't it, Faris?"
"It's... hard trying to figure out the new world's layout, shut your gob."
Bartz couldn't help but smile wider as Faris huffed and turned away from him. "Come on, don't be mopey now. It's a time for celebration! Besides, the black chocobo knows the way to get to that hole in the forest.  We can find it back." He stepped over closer to meet him face to face, tugging lightly at the edge of the frown. "Let's see a smile. Please?"

Faris shooed his hands away from him and pulled a dagger from his soaked breeches. "I said shut up, Bartz! Don't touch me," he growled out between clenched teeth. "I'm just lucky I didn't take the rest of the crew with me. Snuck off, actually, they're going to be wondering where in blue blazes I am. Oi!" The last remark was to a woman with heavy mugs on a platter. "Two Goliath Tonics here. Make it quick." Quick indeed it would be considering how fast the maid strutted away towards the barroom.

"I know your essence of flame is courage, but really, what's with the temper?" Bartz asked, looking at the dagger the same way he'd looked at the clock. "This isn't like you. There's something wrong." He wouldn't meet his eyes. Both pairs were locked on the silver blade. He put a hand on the one holding the hilt and lowered it for both their sakes, almost not noticing the mugs being placed on their table.

Faris ignored Bartz's gesture, sheathed the dagger again, and just took a long glug from the tonic. It was a good ten seconds before he responded, and that was after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Look, it's hard being in charge of a ship. You just picked the easygoing life with Feathers over there--" He jabbed a finger outside the doorway, where a yellow chocobo was tied out to a post. "--while the rest of us took responsibilities. How's Lix doing anyway?"

 Something was definitely wrong, but now didn't seem to be the time to push it. Bartz swallowed a mouthful of his own drink and decided to sit down. "It's going fine," he replied with a bit of curtness, brushing some of his own hair out of his eyes. It was getting too long for the circlet to keep it back. "It's not like I've got my own homeland to protect. I just don't wear a crown or a captain's coat. A sword's a heavy burden too." With the last remark he tapped the crystal blade on his side. "Don't forget what battles we've fought together, Faris. What's it been, three years now since the Void?"

Another heavy drink, this time with the mug turned down. "More!" Faris called to the maid before responding to Bartz again. "It's been a fair time, yes, and it can change some people. Hell, it's changed the world. The fire and water and earth are back. And I can sail with a breeze again. Anyway, what were you going on about a celebration for?" He spat out the last words while a different woman dropped off a new mug and took the old one. This one got polished off faster than the last.

"Didn't you remember?" Bartz asked, a little disappointed. "It's been four years since the crystals chose us."

The purple haired man sat quiet for a long while, and so did Bartz, the only sound between them that of Faris's dripping hair and clothes.

"Guess you're right. Huh. Who'd have thought," he remarked offhandedly, like it wasn't the reason three worlds (or technically one) had been saved. "So why didn't you invite Cid or Mid or the girls?"

"Research and crowns. Plus I knew you'd come. You like a good party. I'm paying for the drinks anyway, and I know a pirate won't turn down free grog." This time it was Bartz to call for another drink, this one a Hero's Cocktail. It seemed right at the moment anyway. "Wasn't that how we really decided to work together, after all?"

Faris gave a shrug, his shoulders sloped a bit too gently to fit his attire quite right. The green shawl slumped down below his shirt and showed a glimpse of bandage under the slowly-drying shirt. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Hard to believe it's been so long..." He stared into the dredges of his tonic, eyes distant but focused nearby. One more pause before either spoke. "Do you know how she's doing?"

There was no questioning who he meant. "Lenna's doing fantastically. I talked with her the other day on my way here. Tycoon is prospering again under her rule. She misses someone dearly though."

"I know," Faris sighed. The faraway stare seemed to get farther still, until Bartz poured some of his cocktail into the other's mug.

"You need this more than me," he said quietly. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll get you some more, but this is a start. I know you better than that."

"Okay." He closed his green eyes and took a glug. "But I don't want us talking about it up here. Maid!" Another different girl hailed his call, already coming with a drink. Faris had that kind of reputation following her everywhere, it seemed. "Key. Room eleven. Put some wind in those sails and hurry it up."
==

The gold meted out for a room at the inn upstairs (this time from the pirate's pocket instead of the wanderer's), the two sat in chairs facing the crackling fire. Their window was open to let in the cool night's air, but the stars were obscured by the curtain. Faris was shivering under his clothes, and Bartz kept a close watch on him instead of the flames. He was sure to catch a cold, just like last time. The wind still carried a good feeling on it, but he didn't think Faris could feel it. Wind was his crystal, not hers. The two were together though, just as the humans were.

"Faris..."

"No, Bartz." He pulled his arms tighter around him and sneezed, bits of seawater flying out of his hair with the force. "Not again. I'm not going to-- hey!"

"I'm not going to let you get sick," Bartz argued, getting out of his chair yet again. He pulled the shawl from around his companion despite his struggles, earning a slap on the face for his trouble. "Please, stop it! I'm trying to help, and i have dry clothes with me, so what's your problem?" He tugged at the soaked coat halfheartedly, though he knew that he was going to lose this fight.

"Fine. You know what, fine, you win. We came up here for a reason anyway," Faris snarled. He pulled off his boots first, then the long socks, then the long captain's coat, and finally a few bronze bangles holding his sleeves in place. "I just... I've been feeling off lately, that's all," he muttered out distractedly. "Look away, I've got some decency."

Bartz did as he was told, turning on his heel to get his bag for another shirt. He was a man of his word after all, and Faris was the worst person to back out of a promise with. He'd learned that before a while ago. "Okay, okay, I get it. Now tell me what's wrong. And when can I turn around?"

"Whenever you want, you dog," he muttered out, so the other turned. There was the dagger again, this time at the man's nearly-bare chest. All that was left was the bandages. "Don't worry," Faris said in a voice softer and more assuring than normal. "I'm not going to hurt myself. These wraps are killing me is all..." The edge of the dagger slid down his front, strips of fabric falling limp on either side of him held in place by his back like wet wings, to reveal a pair of small breasts. "Ugh. I can't wait to get my rowboat back, this damned facade is an ordeal when it gets wet. What're you staring at with that wide open mouth? A wasp's going to make that into a nest if it stays like that for too long."

Of course. He always seemed to forget that when they'd been away for a while, but it was so difficult to forget who Faris really was. Bartz couldn't keep himself from blushing a little at his-- no, her-- frankness. "Um. I'm still here," he said politely, handing her the white shirt.

"I know. You've seen me in less," she said through a relieved sigh. "Now that is more like it. Thank you, Bartz. Feels good to be free." She flexed her toes in front of the fire and let the dry fabric fall onto her skin instead of having it cling to her. "Don't you remember when the crystals made me into a Dancer? Lord, I hated that outfit."

"Yeah, I remember-- wait, no, don't distract me! You wanted to talk about something," Bartz started, a bit of sway in his words. He never could hold drinks well. He definitely wasn't the same stock as the person he was sharing a room with.

For once or twice in his memory the man saw her blush softly. "Listen, I've been meaning to say something." She shimmied out of her breeches and left them by the fire to dry. The shirt covered down to her knees but Bartz saw the faint outline of an extra layer of clothes between that and her skin. "I'm glad you didn't invite the girls-- well, the other girls. Or anyone else. I have a question."

A moment passed before Bartz could respond. Faris seemed almost vulnerable, striking him for a surprise. "Um... okay?"

"What am I? A boy, a girl, a pirate, a princess..." She let out a groan of exasperation and the fire seemed to crackle in sympathy. "I'm a lot of things. Some I was meant to grow up as, others I wasn't, and I have no idea-- ah--" Another sneeze, this one gentler but her shivers increasing. "Ugh. I'm not sure what I am. What do you think?" She looked at him questioningly, something strange in her face.

"I said this when Galuf and I first found you like this," he started in slow caution. "You're Faris. There's no changing that much. What the rest is, that's up to you. I don't think you're cut out to be a princess, you've admitted that much yourself. As for boy or girl, I don't really think it matters."

"What if I was just a girl though?"

That question stopped Bartz cold. A gust howled into the room and sent the curtains dancing. "I still don't think it matters much," he stammered, sitting down on the hardwood floor. "Do you?"

Faris flipped her hair out of her eyes again, letting her head tilt back a bit in her chair. She looked a lot more feminine in not much than her regular clothes, and it was beginning to distract Bartz. He hoped it didn't show. "Maybe. I've always wondered is all. If I'd grown up a proper lass and learned my manners and how to make myself pretty, and, you know, court the boys. If I'd never fallen off of that ship when Lenna and me were little. Would I still have been... I don't know. I could have been something else."

"I don't care what you are, so long as you're healthy," Bartz responded, shifting to criss-cross applesauce. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, and it was unnerving him. His heart was leaping into his throat. A girl in Lix had beaten around a bush somewhat similar to this, but no, it couldn't be. Not Faris. "Are you sure you won't be catching a cold tonight?" he asked, mostly to change the subject.

"I just need a good night's--" A sneeze stopped her for a second, and a soft moan of discomfort with it. "--a good night's sleep, that's all. But... what if I wanted to know how a girl really felt sometime? You know, a night on the town getting into some silly shenanigans, maybe a... a kiss goodnight at the end or something." The last words barely made it out of Faris's lips from fluster.

His mouth hung open again, and he took off his vest to keep himself from sweating. Was it heat, was it confusion, was it the drink? It sure was something though. "Um. I tell you what, if you're not sick tomorrow, I'll-- I'll take you out like that. But I don't have any skirts or anything. And you still need to get the boat from Cid if you want to leave. This was going to be a one night affair-- I mean--"

"I know what you mean, you dog," she muttered with closed eyes. "There are shops on this island. I'll make do. But I suppose I should be getting to bed then. Just for an experiment." She opened them and looked over Bartz, a smile playing on her pink face. "You've fought worse in the Phoenix Tower as far as seduction goes. I'm sure this won't scar you for life, lad. Besides, if it doesn't work, we forget it happened. I just figured you would be the best one to ask. Wind's essennce is passion, isn't it?”

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right... just go to sleep," he said after hesitation. "You get the bed tonight."

"Alone?"

"Faris!"

"Fine. I just offered it since it's a lot more comfortable than the floor."

"Sure."

==

Bartz woke up with a pounding head. His dreams had been more feverish than hers, probably, and he hadn't packed some extra clothes for both of them-- just him. Great. He hated wearing dirty clothes, and he'd kicked up an awful lot of dust on his ride here with Boko. Rolling over to raise his body in a push-up his thought instantly started spinning. It seemed the drinks had hung from dusk over to dawn. "Faris, are you here?" he called, not looking behind him in case she was indecent. By his standards, anyway.

Most of her clothes were neatly folded away by the last of the fire’s smoldering logs, and his backpack had been ransacked sitting next to it. Three guesses as to what happened were three more than Bartz needed. Blearily standing up, he went downstairs to the bar.

Sure enough, there sat Faris at the same table as yesterday, two plates of eggs and bacon sitting there with her, shawl covering most of her shirt. It still couldn’t hide the fact she hadn’t bound herself this morning; but it didn’t show too terribly much. At least he could hold himself back now, even with a headache. “It’s about time you woke up, dullard!” she said with a smirk and a slight spattering of food from her mouth. “I already got us food. You still like behemoth meat, right?” Without pausing to let him answer she took another bite and continued. “Good. I’ve got plans for tonight.”

Sitting down across from her, Bartz looked her over carefully. It didn’t look like she had a fever, and her voice didn’t sound impaired by a stuffy nose. No, this was a fully sane Faris. “What kind of plans?” he asked, reluctantly picking up a fork and knife. Food sounded far from good, but not eating sounded worse.

“Oh, nothing special,” she replied after swallowing her mouthful of food. “Just what we talked about last night, what with the dinner and such. That is if you still want.” Faris abandoned her fork and spoon for a strip of bacon, eating the crispy side first. “You in or not?”

“Wait, you were being serious?” Bartz asked. He cut a nibble of meat off his plate and tried it. It seemed okay to his palate and his stomach so far.

Faris gave a shy smile. There were very few of those in his memory. “I suppose. It’s worth a chance, isn’t it? I mean… I thought you seemed to like it, or was that Hero’s Cocktail a little too strong for you, landlubber?” The lack of bravado never lasted too long, he noticed, especially with food around.
He stopped and thought while he chewed. The idea certainly sounded more than a little interesting. He’d never been one to court, what with his promise to his father. But Faris had been one of perhaps ten people to have known anything about that. He could still remember that night at Dorgann’s grave, when she’d opened up to him for the first time. Bartz scanned her over a couple times, and she was doing the exact same thing.
“What’ve we got to lose? Faris, tonight I’m taking you on a date—“
“Not Faris.” She dropped her piece of bacon and played idly with the knife, spinning it blade-down with the hilt balanced under her fingertip. It was carving a little circle in the wood, but she didn’t seem to care. “I don’t want to be Faris tonight. And I certainly don’t want to be brought back to Tycoon, so there is absolutely no calling me Sarisa. How about tonight, you call me Farifa?”
“Why the different name?”
“Different person. I want to be someone I choose for once, not what someone else makes me. That was the first name I called myself when the captain picked me up. It’s the only name I really owned completely.” The knife stopped rotating as she grasped it tight, a little tremble going down her spine. “What do you say?”
Bartz was used to Faris throwing him for loops, but these were loopier than normal. He tried his own luck at putting her off guard, placing a hand very cautiously on hers, lowering it to the table. To his surprise, she gasped and the knife slipped from her fingers, letting his into the embrace instead. It was even a tender one. Who knew?
“All right, Farifa. May I have the honor of courting you for the night?”
He lifted her hand and lightly kissed it, and she flinched. But she didn’t pull away.
“It would be my pleasure, Bartz.”
==
After breakfast was finished, the two of them decided to go their separate ways—after a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to see who paid the bill. As usual, Faris won. So with his pocket a few hundred gil lighter, Bartz left town with Boko to get to an area with fresh water. He wouldn’t be out with a lovely lady, or however Farifa wanted to identify, without clean clothes. Eventually he got to one in a forest after a couple of scraps, and ended up making the gil back handily. He even picked up a luminous robe on the way and sold that for more. Plenty for the date, he thought with a smirk.
Once his clothes were cleaned and dried (having mastered blue mage had its practical uses, like Aera to replace hours on a clothesline), he crouched down to take a look at himself in the pool. Scruffy dirt colored hair, a bit of a beard, circles under his grey eyes, many a nick and scar on his skin wherever he looked… oh, well. He didn’t care too much about his own looks, and hoped Farifa didn’t either. Bartz had a distinct feeling that would be the case, but still he felt a little nervous.
“Hey, Boko.”
“Kweh?” The bird eyed him curiously and tilted his head, his beak gnawing at the bridle.
“Think I look okay? I have a special person to impress tonight.” He was talking to a giant chicken about his love life. This may have seemed like a new low to anyone who would have looked on the scene, but this was just like old times before the adventures began. Boko had heard all of his friend’s stories, from beginning to end. As silly as it seemed the chocobo was there for him when no one else was.
Boko nuzzled his forehead and made a light peeping noise of contentment. Taking that as a sign of approval, Bartz stroked the bird’s feathers and ruffled the ones on his head. “Thanks, boy. You always know what to say. Ready for a ride?”
This was always his favorite part of the day. He kicked up some dust, making sure to keep it far from the human, and ran in a circle before stopping with both wings out triumphantly. “K-kweh, kweh!” If birds could smile, this one surely was.
Bartz returned the grin with one of his own, all tooth and gums. It had been a while since he’d felt so good. The wind picked up and blew a few leaves off the trees, one of them lying on his face like a kiss. Yes, the breeze certainly held good things for him. Jumping onto the bird’s saddle, he grabbed the rein. “All right, then. Back to Crescent, and be careful. I just got this clean!”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to get into town again, but Bartz kept feeling like something wasn’t right. Was he being set up for a trick? This wouldn’t be the first time, especially not from Faris. This was a person who had picked a pretty good skill class. Dancer, Thief, Ninja, Red Mage, and Beastmaster were all under her belt; and that was just when they’d chopped down the tree. Who knew what other tricks she had learned since then? All he had done was be a Knight, Blue Mage, Bard, Mime and Oracle. Deceit wasn’t in him, not in the least, but the ability to see it in others was. He knew she wouldn’t do anything like that without a reason. She was good. Deep down, above all else, that was Faris’s one defining trait other than her courage. She was good.
That was what he kept telling himself while he waited outside the bar again, combing his hair nervously, Boko tied back up (and clucking out a few bits of laughter every now and then at his impatience). So far, though, it looked like he had been stood up. Farifa, Faris, whoever was coming to be with him tonight hadn’t come yet. The sun was almost down, and they’d agreed to meet long before then. Uncharacteristically late again. Just before he was about to order a drink for one, a voice called out behind him.
“Sorry I’m late, Bartz!”
Someone was running towards him clumsily in slippered feet, a little bit of blush on their cheeks.  For a moment Bartz didn't recognize her. She didn't look like the damsel he'd seen in Castle Tycoon, nor did she definitely look like the pirate captain that had first held him captive. In a sleeveless green cotton dress and a black leather cinch around her waist, and her hair up in a somewhat messy ponytail, Farifa looked average. But beautifully so.
“W—Faris—I mean, I—wow!” he couldn’t help saying, dusting off his clothes to try and look better. Who knew she would turn this into a competition? He walked around her a couple of times just to make sure this was her. And it was. There was the nick she’d gotten from the bandersnatch right under her left ear, the slash on her right wrist she took deflecting one of Yojimbo’s blades, and the cut from Gilgamesh near her cleavage… Wait. Why was he looking there?
“Hey, meet my eyes,” she said, not taking a moment to call him out on the glance.  Farifa’s fingers snapped a little impatiently in front of his nose and he instantly stood straight, reddening. “Who’d have ever thought you’d be a sucker for such simple looks?” Nonetheless there was a slow-growing pride in her stance, being able to fluster a dear friend like that. “Isn’t it about time for dinner? I’m starving!”
Bartz ended up following her into the building, and a few people turned to look at her. They’d rented a room together, it was known. One man laughed and muttered to another, who stifled a grin. He was sure there would be jokes about them in the morning if anything crazy happened tonight. Okay, he thought, stay calm.
“May I get the chair for you, my lady?” he asked, taking it anyway. She promptly dropped down with a most unladylike thud and crossed arms. “That’s… not how it’s supposed to work, Farifa,” Bartz stammered.
“I make up how it’s supposed to go,” she fired back with a wavering smile. For the first time he noticed paint on her lips. That was a surprise. “So, care to elucidate a poor little lass like me otherwise?”
“I’m not sure either,” he admitted with a shrug, sitting back in the chair and tipping it onto two legs. This was new territory for both of them. “Are you even hungry or thirsty anyway? I’m—“
“Good to know I’m not the only one floundering,” Farifa muttered through a dark look. She had taken her knife and fork from the napkin they were wrapped in, and even put the cloth in her lap. What do you know, the pirate had manners after all!
The man hesitated for a second to look her over again. It was surreal to be sitting here with the intention to dine a companion as true and steady as Faris, and even more so to have her in a skirt. Bartz couldn’t help but squeak out a laugh at the strange scene before him once he followed her suit, yet another surprise. “Um, let’s just pretend that we’ve never met until now. That might work better,” he suggested in a half hearted shrug.
She spun her knife in a neat little circle as she had in the morning, a moment lost in thought with her spare hand holding a finger to her bottom lip. For a rough-and-tumble fighter the girl in front of him cast a strange shadow in that dress. “Hmm. Let’s test that theory.” As demurely as she could manage (barely), the purple haired woman dropped the cutlery to hold her hand out. “A pleasure to meet you, kind sir. You may call me Farifa. Might I know your name as well?”
Not knowing what else to do with the hand, he raised it to his lips for a gentle kiss, and smiled when he felt a little flinch from its recipient. “Bartz, of the family Klauser, in Lix. It’s quite the honor to have you with me tonight, Farifa. What brings you here?” Who knew? It could be fun if they both played along right, and he had an intention of it. He had loved mastering the class of mimicry—acting was a guilty pleasure of his he’d discovered through the exercise. And with an actress like this joining him, it could make an interesting show.
Farifa quickly withdrew her hand from his grasp. “I-I came here to see a friend,” she stammered out, flustered already. This wasn’t easy work for her, being a proper lady, even though the chancellor had done everything in his power to teach her when she’d been rediscovered so long ago. “He agreed to help me with a… a, um, request of mine. As for you, then, why are you on Crescent?”
A twitched played at the corner of Bartz’s mouth, the start of a smile, as he answered the fair woman before him. “I came here for my own reasons, and to help a friend of mine. A beautiful one, I might add.” He glanced up at her eyes from the table, where he had been focusing on a knot in the oak to keep his cool, to see she was mostly hiding them in her bangs.
“You’re a charmer,” she tutted nervously to her knife. Farifa couldn’t stand meeting his looks in anything but the metal’s reflection at the moment. “Tell me, are you like this with all the girls, or is tonight a special occasion?” Now it was her turn to play a little game. Seafarers, be they human or otherwise, always did love to trick the folk who ventured onto their waters. As far as she was concerned, the dinnertable was a formidable ocean for the time being.
Bartz had a response ready, but sadly it was for another question. He’d raised a finger for retort and let it fall limp onto the wood as he heard her. “Um… there are no other girls. This is special. The first, anyway,” he added before he sounded too inexperienced. It worked to at least make her laugh. Not a hearty one like he was used to, a sweet giggle like he would have heard from anyone else.
“I see. So that puts us on even ground, I guess,” Farifa said as a barmaid brushed by her chair. “May I—I mean, two Goliath Tonics, please. And whatever the gentleman wants,” she followed in a streak of mischief. “He’s a little uneasy.”
“Same as her!” he said in knee-jerk reaction. This was failing miserably for a normal set up. She had all the charge in the world, which he knew wasn’t right. But it felt better and easier than the alternative. And she still wouldn’t look at him or let her eyes show. Once the maid walked away laughing, Bartz reached over the table and gently brushed Farifa’s hair away from her face. “Can’t you at least let me see you?”
Again, she flinched, but not as far away this time. It wasn’t recoil, merely a gesture of someone unaccustomed to much contact. Green eyes blinked up at him framed by long lashes, leaves among branches. “Sure,” she answered in caution. With the tree metaphor in mind, Bartz pictured a quaking aspen in front of him instead, and barely suppressed another grin. “What’s got you in such good humor?” Farifa finally spat as she shooed his hand away.
The drinks clunked in front of them, two mugs apiece, so Bartz took a heavy sip from one of his before answering. If she thought he was a charmer before and it seemed to work, it was worth trying again. “Nothing. It’s just, I can’t help but feel this isn’t your real atmosphere, if you’re following me. Even past your good looks, you’re not the average woman.” To his pleasure it did have an effect on her; she blushed pink and brought her hands to her mug, tapping it with her fingertips in what he knew was a nervous tic of hers.
“I—It’s true, I’m not normally the genteel type,” Farifa chanced, and took a dainty sip from her flask. A little bit slipped onto her shaky hand, and she raised it to her own lips this time to lick it off. This made Bartz’s mouth open in shock. Not only was this improper etiquette, but it was rather alluring for whatever reason. Worse yet, she’d caught onto the act. Her finger dipped into the mug so she could lick it clean instead, sneaking a whimper past the man’s lips. Some stalwart adventurer he was. The Cherie and Lamia had been less tempting than this after all. “Heh. You don’t seem privy to this scene either.”
From the corner of his eye he spotted a couple of people at the bar starting to watch them, and his free hand tensed around his blade in instinct. “I’ll admit to that. I’m more welcome under the stars and open sky than under any roof,” he decided to say, words carefully measured while he gauged her responses, either physical or otherwise. “You wouldn’t look out of place among the constellations, you know. That smile of yours is just as dazzling.” Another pass of tonic from glass to mouth, another flinch in his dinner partner.
In front of a gale of mirth from onlookers and behind a hand raised to her mouth in surprise, Farifa blinked up at Bartz dumbly. “Oh. Um… I suppose so?” she mumbled, words muffled by the shielding gesture. “But you’re easy to look at too—“
Her words, already quieted, were cut off by one of the men watching. He wasn’t too big, but he was drunk, practically sitting in a throne of empty bottles. “Hey, can you see this, boys? The wrong one’s wearing the skirt at that table!” He lifted the mug he haphazardly clasped toward Bartz and Farifa and laughed into a swig, most of his drink spilling onto his stained shirt. The surrounding men saw the people in question and joined in with the brute, toasting to the sight.
Between this and the stress of ladyship, the lavender-haired girl’s resolve snapped. No more teasing, no more playing about; she slugged down her Goliath Tonic in three swift gulps and set her mug upside down before trotting up to the bar with the full one in a fist. “Hey, you say another word about my boyfriend over there, and I’ll pour my other drink on you before getting out my tinderbox.”
Not quite registering what was going on, Bartz stood up from his chair and his mouth opened wider. “Boyfriend…?”
“Shut up, Bartz, I’m defending your honor,” Farifa snapped. She was all business now, a true marauder in commoner’s clothing. “Come on, then, are you going to pick a fight with a poor defenseless little girl like me? Really? It’s not polite from what I know.” Her voice was a simper, her face a mocking pout, and she put on a set of tremors to look afraid.
The brute gave a mighty hiccup and spilled his drink again, this time on the top half of her dress. “You’re not worth my effort… though the boy wasn’t lying. You are a pretty little thing. Think I’ll borrow you from him and show you what a real man’s like.” His eyes locked onto the wet fabric, stained with beer and translucent. A meaty hand lurched out for her skirt while she walked away, catching her mid-stride—
And a blade whizzed out of its sheath, Bartz between the two. “You’re lucky you didn’t get her skin,” he growled at the drunkard, “or else you would have lost some yourself. Release her.” He caught Farifa’s gaze, and she actually looked a little scared for once. He knew if she’d been in her proper clothes she’d have had a dagger in her clenched hand, but there was no place for her to have its belt on her dress. Focusing back at his real subject, he turned the blade up at the man’s thick neck. “I’m not afraid to shed blood. But I bet you’d leak alcohol instead. Are you going to release her, or are we going to find that out?”
Now all eyes were on them, but no one moved to stop them. This matter was best left to the three involved already. The hand fell from the green cloth as the sword pressed against stubbled flesh, and a slurred inhale rattled in his throat. “Fine,” he muttered, not the least bit afraid. “But you’re not doing her any favors, boy. Lemme give her a taste, why don’t you?” Instead of grabbing for her again, he smacked Farifa’s backside. Not that Bartz saw any of it.
Once the sound registered in his ears along with his companion’s scream of indignation, he let loose. A thin cut, but a cut nonetheless, shone red on the man’s neck thanks to Bartz’s blade. “I’m not sticking around to see what comes out, but don’t you dare touch a woman like that again!” As one of the drunkard’s mates rose to fight, a hilt smashed his head back down and the two were off with more bloodshed than beer.
“Come on, Farifa, let’s not get arrested,” Bartz said in a frenzy, lightly tugging at her wrist. “It’s time for us to change our plans.” As soon as she was on the move (and he caught sight of many glints of light on metal), he gave a loud whistle. Heading out the door, Boko met him there with a blatant expression of surprise. His rider ignored it, making sure the lady got on before kicking at the chocobo’s banded legs to escape by the moon’s first glow.
The trio ran off—bird clucking in laughter, humans screaming in adrenaline overload, a crowd in the distance storming out from the tavern.
===
Crescent’s last candles were miles away by the time Bartz coaxed Boko into stopping at an open field. “Hey, come on. I think we’re far enough,” he muttered into the chocobo’s ear. The ride immediately stopped, and both of its passengers disembarked. With a pat of his feathers Bartz gave him a smile and said, “You can go run off now if you want, boy. I’ll whistle for you.”
As if knowing what he really meant, Boko squawked out a giggle and winked, causing a playful kick to the rump. “Okay, now you leave no choice. Scram, boy!” At the command from Bartz he ordered, leaving giant footprints behind and another cloud of dirt and kicked-up grass. “Damn it… I’m so sorry about that, Fari—“
“Shut up and don’t pretend you don’t know me,” Farifa answered, visibly shaken. She’d ridden on Boko’s back many times, though never in a skirt. It was more billowy than she had expected, and even if she was riding behind Bartz and the fabric was long she felt terribly exposed. “I’m still Farifa, but let’s drop the pretenses of this being a first date, shall we?”
He had no objections, but wanted to question the claim of boyfriend. However, one look at her face in the moonlight said now was not the time. Cold sweat, circles under her eyes he was certain weren’t there before, and a rip in her dress all showed up too clearly to him. She was in bad shape. Time for a distraction. “So now what? We can’t exactly eat anything, and if we go back into town, I’d say we’re better off dead.”
“Pirates never die.” Farifa took the band from her hair to let it fall free down to her cinch, the shakes lessening with each word. “We only take on other roles. And right now we’re still in the roles of runaway fighters. Got any extra weapons? I see a pair of gloom widows we can slash up for fun.”
Good, so she was following his drift. Bartz smiled a little more warmly, a cool night breeze picking up. “Hmm. Let’s see here. I have the chicken knife, my harp, my crystal sword—obviously—the flare whip, um…” He was beginning to get surprised at the size of his own bag, and then remembered Krile had been kind enough to cast a Gravity spell on it. Somehow she’d engineered it to take up twice the space its size actually dictated. Those girls had always been geniuses, but that had been a whole new level. “Ah, here we go!” He delightedly tossed a small embroidered buckskin sheath Farifa’s way, which she caught with a noted reverence.
“You remembered?” She took the piece and put it on her cinch before drawing the Dancing Dagger inside. The weapon itself was a gorgeous piece of work, engraved with music notes and a small heart on it; but the real beauty was in its wielder. Farifa’s eyes seemed to glow with the power in it, and in the distance Bartz almost swore he could hear a forest fire starting to burn when she kissed the blade. “Oh, thank you. This one always was my favorite.”
“I know.” He was delighted to see a brilliant grin. Maybe she did belong in the stars after all. Silhouetted against the night sky, she looked as at home as she had with Syldra underneath her ship. The girl wasn’t in a dancer’s outfit, yet her grace still shone through in simple cotton and leather. A determined gleam in her eyes sure helped that out though. “You pick my weapon. I picked yours.”
Farifa put the dagger between pursed lips for a moment to crack her knuckles, but spoke as soon as she could, already lining up a shot with the nearest spider. “How about we play knight and maiden fair? I’ll dance for you tonight if you draw your sword.” The tone in her voice made Bartz stop for more than a second to take a deep breath or two, and it only worsened when she tossed her hair with a wink. “I call first blood!”
He stuck back to watch, since there really was no stopping her. She leapt at one of the forelegs in a graceful swoop, taking it out at the first joint. He heard the spider shriek before the blood started oozing—not an easy feat, but she’d always been fast. As her hips swayed and the skirt flounced around her ankles, Bartz saw the seven legged beast turn back and attack its partner. “Excellent tango!” he called in encouragement, also to distract himself from taking part. He didn’t want to lose sight of this.
“Thanks, but it’s your turn to get your hands dirty!” Farifa called over another howl, this time curving into the thorax of the spider. For the first time, he noticed her slippers were ruby. “Yes! I still have the sword dance mastered!” she cried in excitement, letting herself get into a rhythm of attack and defense as well as her dagger allowed. More enemies, at least fifteen, were coming now that they’d caused a ruckus.
Bartz had no choice but to attack, as much as he would have preferred to let her do the work. A pair of witches on crescent moons came forth to try and enchant him, but he sliced at them before their spells could reach. Then came the use of Flame Thrower on a spider at Farifa’s back, which earned him high gratitude in the fray. It seemed like between the two of them, they were keeping up a good pace of fending off the monsters. That was, until the slug slime caught him. “I need some help here!”
A slightly bloodied and dirtied maiden came to his rescue, subduing his foe with a fancy-foot-worked jitterbug. Instantly Farifa looked rejuvenated and positively glowed with a green energy that set her locks aflutter. A little moan of enjoyment passed her lips while she ravished the moment of victory, then she turned behind to take the Mykale’s sickle from her before plunging the dagger into the moon. Within instants, the heroes of Light were alone in the field again.
“That was…” Bartz sunk down to the ground, near a patch of fire left behind from his Blue magic, to catch his breath. He set his backpack aside too, the less bulk the better while he recuperated. “Farifa, you’re incredible.”
There was modesty in the girl’s smile as she sat to face him on the other end of the fire. This dagger was one too sacred for her to play with, so she put it back in its pouch after cleaning it on her skirt. The wind was tugging lightly at their clothes, coaxing the fire into a dance like so many had been performed moments before. “Thank you, Bartz. I have to say the same for you. Although we didn’t get much to eat, I’d say this was one of my more enjoyable nights.” She played with the hem of her dress, knees drawn into her chest, which was heaving in exertion.
He didn’t say something for a time. His heartbeat was keyed into the pattern of the wind, the pattern of his essence, looking for the next move. Not even when they had gone up to defeat Exdeath had Bartz felt so in tune with what the crystals had called passion. “I apologize for that,” he mumbled, a hand scratching idly at the back of his head. “But I can still make this night more enjoyable if you’d like.”
Farifa’s breath finally steadied again, and she looked at him past the flames with caution. “Do you mean what I think you mean?” she asked in a tremble of a voice, body uncurling slowly but surely.
“Only if you want it.” He knew better than to make the first move on her. She’d been leading this whole night. Who was he to change that, especially at so crucial a moment? Besides, the air had stilled; he took that as his sign to do the same. “I’m all yours for whatever you’d like.”
The flames crackled as she made her move. Almost like she was making an attack on the spiders from before, Farifa rose from her position to pin him down between her legs. Her lips made contact with his, perhaps not gently but not unkindly either. It was certainly a surprising first kiss, one that made him cry out in shock, though he got used to it in no time flat, instead wrapping his arms around her for a tight embrace.
To an onlooker it might have seemed like a pair of bandits were fighting by a fire, but to the pair it was an intense camaraderie brought much further. Neither one cared that the other had just been in battle, nor did they care about the clumsiness of their grasps at each other—Faris had a hand of his hair to pull his kiss in closer, and Bartz’s fingers lightly digging into her side to bring the rest of her body down. Again the dancer started a rhythm but now it was one of her hips against his, slow rolling interrupted by his tongue grazing her lips.
She opened for the embrace and let out a sigh of pleasure, and Bartz tugged harder at her, obviously distracted by the mane of hair in his face but taking great joy in it. “F… Farifa,” he murmured into the kiss, lifting her face away to look at her again. “You should have warned me you were eager.” Not knowing what else to do, he leaned back up to drag her down, now with both hands busy at the lacing he felt underneath them.
There was no doubting both were nervous, but Farifa wasn’t pulling away and neither was he. She had her lips at his neck now, greedily smooching any inch of skin she could find, teasing the collar of his shirt down lower, using her arms to support herself over him. “I didn’t know,” she replied in a breathy moan. “I merely expected a gentleman to kiss me, not offer so mu—ah—“
The two froze in place as the dress fell free of her breasts, much more room to separate cloth from skin. Bartz felt the wind surge (along with something else), but didn’t act on it yet. The pause was not his own choice. It was his partner’s, who drew back almost in shock.
Farifa looked down at him, forming a ninety degree angle with the man under her. Her expression was one of confusion, nearly a childlike fear. “No,” she stammered at once, lips barely working. She got off of Bartz and crossed her arms over her chest, fingers clawing at themselves to work out her nerves, far too vulnerable. “No, no, no, we can’t do this…” She kept saying things under her breath, eventually coiling back up, her words turning into gasps and whimpers of panic.
Again, Bartz didn’t know what to do. There seemed to be a trend tonight. One moment he’d had a beautiful friend close to becoming something more, and now he had no clue what was happening. The last he’d seen Farifa like this, it was when her father had made him vow to protect his daughters… That’s it! He grabbed for his pack and approached her gently, nudging her with the harp tucked under his arm, sitting next to her.
“Farifa.” He could hear her starting to cry, and it tore at his heart to notice she was panicking as hard as she was. There was no reaction from her, not even when he turned the nudges to tremors at her shoulder. “Sarisa?” Maybe a different name would get a different response, he had hoped, but it only knotted her tighter in her own anxiety. The woman in front of him was scared, partly thanks to him; it was the least Bartz could do to try and alleviate it. Finally it hit him.
No hand on her, no attempt to drown out her own sounds. He merely plucked at the strings of the harp to play a melody he’d heard many times as a child in his mother’s music box. He knew she had heard it too, and desperately prayed that it soothed her. “Faris,” Bartz cooed under the song he played. “Faris, it’s me. You’re safe. You’re with me…”
The name didn’t snap her out, but it certainly helped. She had fewer racks of the shoulders from sobs, and many less hiccups. In time Apollo’s harp weaved its calming magic too, stopping the tears altogether. Slowly and on unsteady wrists Faris brought herself to the point where she could sit up. All she could manage past that was a slump of the body to rest her head in his lap, close to the music.
Bartz kept playing and calling her name softly until the last of her tears dried on her face. Fortunately it didn’t take long, but it happened nonetheless. He’d never felt so guilty in his life. “Faris… I think I know what happened, and I’m so sorry.” The harp rested at his free hip while he smoothed out her hair. “Don’t let yourself get wrapped up in someone you aren’t, something you aren’t. No matter what I’ve always loved you. Please, don’t be scared to act how you want.” He didn’t take note of the word “love” breaking out of his vocabulary until after she sighed heavily. “…Oh, no, I didn’t—“
“You dullard.” Faris stayed resting on him, truly comfortable for the first time tonight. “I don’t think I’m fit to be a lady after all,” she ventured in a half hearted chuckle and a glance upwards, partly at the stars, mostly at Bartz. “I’m not a man either, though. So what the hell does that leave me as?”
“Faris,” Bartz echoed, stilling his hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t shaking anymore, thank goodness. “You’re Faris, and there’s no changing or defining you. And I don’t care what anyone says, whether you’re lad or lass.” He buried his face into her hair again for a light kiss on the forehead. “But I have to ask… would a Faris really mind having a Bartz as a boyfriend, or was that a bluff to fend off the alcoholics?”
Another laugh, this one more confident, bubbled up from Faris’s mouth. She steadied herself to sit up by his side, resting her head on him. “Mayhap we’ll see. Either way it would appear you’re a lover.” Her eyes scanned over Bartz’s face so closely he felt like she could sense his skin heating up.
He had to purse his lips to not bite his tongue in anger. “That was, unless you don’t think so, a slip of judgment. And I’ve always loved you, and Lenna, and Krile, and Galuf; you’ve all been family to me, with or without the crystals telling me so—hey!”
Faris had put a hand over his mouth. “Calm down, Bartz. I understand what you meant. We’re birds of a feather on this one.” She moved the hand for a kiss, which he lightly accepted, before pulling away. “But I really think it’s time we showed back up at the inn. I’m sure they’ve all sobered up by now, and I paid for that room. Who am I to waste gil?”
“That’s my Faris,” Bartz whispered into the starlight with a hug. One whistle later and they were on the way to Crescent again, Boko clucking all the while for information and Bartz saying “No” loudly at every turn.
--
By the time morning came, Faris’s guess had been right: The blood was gone from the floor of the tavern, as well as the drunkard’s bottle throne. No one questioned their messed up hair or ruffled clothes. After last night’s show, they knew better. Their brutish friend was nowhere to be seen, so the two enjoyed a meal uninterrupted after a good night’s sleep.
“You know,” Faris said over a bite full of bacon, not minding the crisps that got onto her normal attire of breeches and shirt and scarf, “that was fun. We should do that again, except this time on my boat. A landlubber like you needs practice with sea legs. What better than a battle and—“ She stopped mid-sentence, not sure how to describe exactly what had happened.
“Tomfoolery?” Bartz suggested after polishing off his plate of chocobo eggs. “No, the word you’d used was shenanigans. And then a kiss goodnight at the end.” He reached out to tweak her nose, but she smacked him away. “I know, I know, ‘shut your gob’. Couldn’t resist.”
Faris glowered at him over her last mouthful of food. “You’re lucky you’re charming,” she spat from across the table. “You wouldn’t get away with half of this if you weren’t, lover boy.”
Bartz sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning back on two legs. “You won’t be letting that go, will you?”
“Maybe. It depends.” She held out the Dancing Dagger for him to grab, and one finger on another hand to make him take pause. “I’ll give this back and let go the admission from last night on one condition. Join me. I could use a good first mate, and I’m sure Lix is well protected.”
Bartz mulled it over for a good minute of as much silence as the room allowed. It was a great offer to be with Faris all the time, and his hometown was relatively safe… A puff of wind through an open window ruffled his hair. “Pick a date and we’ll go out drinking again, this time on the ship” he decided, pushing the dagger back to its proper owner. “I promise I won’t lose my boat to Cid’s laboratory.”
Distracted by the relinquishing of her beloved dagger, Faris groaned in disgust at the memory of how she had arrived on the island in the first place. “Fine, but you’re swimming with me.”
“Sailor’s word,” Bartz replied, putting his hand on hers.
“You’re not allowed to use that.”
“Give me a few weeks at sea and we’ll change that.”
Her eyes brightened considerably and she almost squeaked in surprise. “You’re joking, you dog! You mean you’ll be joining me after all?”
“Wherever the wind takes me. I mean, us.”