FFX RPG: For Old Time's Sake
Started On: 02.23.03
Started By: Alicia (Tidus, Aaron)
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Knock, knock.
The captian of Yunaleska's royal guard looked up from the paperwork he had been doing all morning to scowl. Hadn't he told his assistant he didn't want to be disturbed? Then again, the boy always forgot what his superiors had ordered - which was why the Al Bhed he was filing paperwork on had gotten into the city in the first place. And why someone was knocking at his door.
"I told you," he shouted irritablly, as he looked back down at the neat stack of papers below him, "I don't want to be disturbed."
"Pity," a voice responded, barely heard over the creaking that signaled the door was being opened. And before the captian even looked up, he knew who it was - not his assistant, but Aaron, Yunaleska's personal bodyguard. His life was over.
"S-Sir Aaron," the man stammered, coming to his feet. Crossing his right arm over his left shoulder, he bowed, in salute. It was a gesture that any man in Yunaleska's services - city guard, army, or royal vanguard - would have recognised as the proper way to address a superior. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were my assistant, Nico. He has the bad habit of coming in to bother me while I'm doing paperwork."
The fiendish mercenary looked unimpressed. "What news?"
"Nothing here, sir. But next door has been buzzing all morning."
Next door? Yunaleska's army's barracks and training facility? Amber eyes narrowed in thought. Odd. They had no reason to be busier than normal, or at least no reason that came to mind. So why had they been 'buzzing' as the other man had put it? Aaron wasted no time in asking.
"Why?"
"Well," he began, trying to recall the details of all he had heard that morning and then order them into a sensible report. "Major Titus returned last week. Apparently he walked right up to General Kinoc and demanded his job back."
"And?"
"And Kinoc gave it to him, sir. His first day back on active duty is today."
"I see," the mercenary responded. So Titus had returned. It wasn't something he had expected. Especially not after Snyea's death at the hands of the Major's own men. Still, Titus' return was welcome, stirring feelings the dead bodyguard hadn't had since his own death. Feelings of joy. Well, assuming Titus' intentions were pure.
"Where can I find him?"
"The excersise yard, sir."
A mute nod and Aaron turned, moving back towards the door, but he never made it there. Instead, the mercenary stopped just before his hand fell on the handle, a small yet cruel smile finding his lips. He had almost forgotten the real reason he had come here, he had almost shown mercy. What had he been thinking?
Quick hands found a dagger hidden in a nondescript pouch on his belt and withdrew it. Pushing it firmly against the inside of his wrist in an attempt to conceal it, he turned again, finding the captian still on his feet respectfully. And at this, the other man's expression was one of confusion but not fear. Good, he hadn't seen the knife.
"Sir?" he asked.
Silence followed, and the captian moved to open his mouth to speak once again, but he never got the chance. Moving with battle sharpened speed, Aaron lashed out with the dagger, sending it soaring through the air. The other man never saw it coming, and in an instant, the blade had imbedded itself between the man's eyes. The younger man slumped to his desk, obviously dead. And as Aaron turned back to the door, he was surprised to find it open, the captian's assistant, Nico, standing there in shock.
The cruel smile remaining in place, the fiendish mercenary pushed past the boy. And as he went he stated simply, "You're in charge now. Don't disgrace her."
Now that business was finished, it was time to find Titus.
*
"Move your feet more." Titus instructed as he surveyed the practice scuffle with cool eyes. First day of active duty and he had been assigned to training troops in the excersise yard. A smirk plastered itself on his face as he thought about it. What else should he have expected? His old position? That was a laugh. He was lucky he'd persuaded Kinoc to let him back in the military, let alone give him his old rank again. He'd have to work his way up again, but quicker this time. The higher he got, the better chance he had at -
"Lady Yunaleska is not going to want her military fighting like little girls who are afraid to break their nails, now, move your feet more and be aggressive with that damn sword or you'll stay after and have a sparring match with me." He shouted, impatience eating away at him as he watched the two recruits in front of him, pushing a stray strand of silken blonde hair away from his face at the same time. He spit into the dirt, just as he always did after speaking HER name, but to others, it seemed as if he was merely just being a male.
"Major," The young recruit (oddly named Tane) that approached saluted sharply, and Titus glanced at him out the corner of his eye before lazily making the same gesture and placing a gloved hand on his hip. "You told me to report if anyone suspicious looking approached the grounds, sir." Tane paused, waiting for a reaction from the oddly clad soldier he had heard so much about. When no reaction came from Titus (who continued to stare at the sparring match) the recruit became nervous and stopped talking. This was the famous "Major Titus"? The esteemed leader of the military's Special Forces? Then why was he teaching them? And why was he acting so aloof?
"And?" The sudden sharp inquiry from his superior startled Tane and he jumped slightly, drawing in a quick breath. He was surprised to find a smirk lingering on Titus' face as the older of the two watched Tane shrink beneath his piercing emerald gaze.
"W-well," Tane stammered, feeling a little resentful as the smirk on Titus' face widened. "There's an older man, wearing a navy blue coat making his way here." He gulped as Titus gave him a pointed look. Had he said something wrong? Shutting his eyes tightly, the recruit bowed deeply, professing his apologies, but when no reply came, he glanced up to find Titus chuckling softly.
"No need to apologize. You're a new recruit, probably not from around here, so I don't expect you to know much about Sir Aaron." Titus stated, still chuckling softly. "But then again, anyone would assume him suspicious. He just has the aura about him." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the recruit and went back to watching the match, occasionally giving advice, though his mind focused on other things. Aaron was coming? To make sure I've no ill intentions toward his provider, no doubt, he thought bitterly. Even still, seeing Aaron again would be refreshing. And despite what his mind screamed at him, the rest of him was quite eager to see his old friend.
The same went for Aaron, as he moved purposfully across the excersise yards, kicking up little clouds of dust with each footfall. It would be good to see his old friend again, and as the blonde-haired man came into view across the sand-covered yard, the corners of his lips tugged into a ghost of a smile. Strange that he would feel something now after nearly a year of resentment for all that lived, save for his employer. Strange, but welcome. Perhaps something human still existed in him after all. Then again, he mused, a single hand reaching up to push his glasses that much farther up his nose, maybe not.
"Titus," he acknowledge as he finally reached the other man.
"Aaron," Titus replied, grin finding a way to his face as a hand casually secured itself on his hip. He bowed extravagantly to his elder, laughing a little as he moved toward him, emerald eyes flashing with a playfulness that most adults didn't see. "To what do I owe this pleasure, dear sir?" Tane returned shortly after, but upon seeing his commander and the fabled Sir Aaron in conversation, made his exit soon after.
"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to see you until after night had fallen," Titus teased lightly, eyeing the recruits around him momentarily, before turning his gaze back to the man in front of him. "But even still, it's good to see you."
"You think me a fiend?" he questioned in response to Titus' comment about not seeing him after nightfall. Before the mercenary's untimely death, the response had been part of a routine the two of them had developed, both knowing that Yunaleska often kept Aaron busy into the night. And both knowing that fiends seemed to come out more often after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Now however, the comment hit a nerve, wiping away whatever trace of a smile had been on his face, his customary stoic expression falling into place. Nearly a year, and the thought of being dead still brought bitterness to him. But then again, he mused, that was the whole point of his current existance, wasn't it?
Aaron offered a shrug both to his unspoken question and to his companion's comment about not expecting to see him. "I had business next door," the taller man responded, "but it is good to see you."
"Business next door... I see," The blonde knew better than to question Aaron about his job, and instead, shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "So it seems Her Majesty is keeping you occupied." The grin he plastered on his face seemed strained at first, but naturally relaxed as his emerald eyes tried to see past the dark shades that blocked his view of Aaron's.
"Dare I hope you can accompany me for dinner tonight? It's been a long time, and we have a lot of catching to do.
"Dinner," Aaron echoed.
Since his death, the fiendish mercenary found that he had little use for food. True, he could still eat it, but it didn't do anything for him; it neither satisfied any kind of hunger nor held any taste. In fact, the only reason he knew he could still eat in the first place was because of a particular incident at one of Yunaleska's state dinners. Seymour had pointed out both to the Queen and her guests that it was rude of the mercenary not to eat. The half-Al Bhed Queen really hadn't cared if he had eaten or not, but the guests did. So, to keep up apperances, and to keep Yunaleska in her guests' good graces, he had eaten. And there had been no side effects of doing so, unless of course you counted Seymour being furious that his little plot to expose the mercenary had failed.
A small smile quirked onto his lips at the memory.
"Dinner," he repeated, "for old time's sake."
"Wonderful." Titus gave a soft smile, eyes dancing with eagerness that hadn't been present in him for as long as he could remember. Dinner with his old friend meant more than could be said. He'd get to catch up with Aaron, see the city he'd once called home, and be brought up to date on all the recent events that he had missed while living in Bevelle.
"Is Zannin's resturant still near the docks?" The major rubbed his stomach jokingly, smirk plastering itself on his face. "I'm in the mood for something spicy."
"It is," Aaron answered, "though if you're hungry now, maybe we should consider doing lunch instead of dinner." A gesture was made to the sky, or more specifically the sun, which still hadn't reached its peak in the sky. It was still morning, and dinner was a long way off.
"Hmm...too true." He glanced at his wristwatch, drumming a finger against his chin as he tried to recall when sessions were over. A chime across the loud speakers answered that question for him, however, and grinned up at Aaron with a look that screamed, "Now you're stuck with me." He crossed his arms across his chest, watching the recruits leave in an orderly manner, before turning back to the mercenary that loomed before him.
"Well, my shift is complete. What say you show me around the city until lunch?"
Aaron nodded in response, and then turned, wasting no time in heading out into the city. He wasn't some kind of tour guide, but then again, perhaps this would be an oppertunity to see what things Titus was interested in. Just in case the other man had joined Yunaleska's army for something other than serving the Queen. It was rude to spy on his friend like this, true, but he had few qualms about anything anymore.
"Anywhere in particular you'd like to see first?"
"Remember that weapon shop that we used to go to a lot? I forgot what it was called, but it was right next to that strip club. You know, the one you always leered at." Titus quipped with a small chuckle as he caught up with Aaron's longer strides and repositioned his sword at his side.
"Is that still there?"
"The Sign of the Sword." A glance was cast at the blonde as he shifted slightly to head in the direction of the said shop. "And if I remember correctly, you were the one who did the leering."
"Now you and I have known each other how long?" He shot Aaron a knowing look. "I had no reason to leer at such a place," He stretched casually, yawning a little as he did so. "And if I even looked over there once, it was to make sure you weren't trying to get a free show without me there to monitor you." He kicked at the dirt road below him, watching his words and keeping his voice light as he spoke to the man who had once been his closest confident. Even if it was Aaron, he was still Yunaleska's bodyguard.
"You know how you get excited a little too easily."
A noise of disbelief passed the fiendish mercenary's lips, but he said nothing. In most cases, even in Aaron's when he had still been alive, the silence that followed would have been one out of respect for Titus' loss. But now it was a cold, uncaring silence. Regardless of whether or not the other man had been his closest friend in life, regardless of whether or not Titus' prescence stirred some kind of emotion in him, his current state wouldn't let him feel anything but resent. Synea had died, but at least she had been fortunate enough to make it to the Farplane. And Titus, Titus who was still living. He had nothing to complain about - he still drew breath.
Reflexively, Aaron reached up to push his glasses up farther on his nose. Damn the living.
He thought for a minute... about whether his joking had gone a little too far. But after a moment's pause he realized this was the first time he'd actually cared if he had, indeed, gone too far. His eyes narrowed a little, as he watched the people around him, thinking back to the days of old, when life had revolved around over-confidence, zealousness, and skill. He scoffed at himself, forgetting that Aaron was walking next to him for a moment. How ironic life was.
"Wasn't The Sign of The Sword where we first saw each other?" Titus questioned, slipping back into the mask of his former-self and drapping on a smirk.
"It was," came the reply, as smooth as ice. "You were looking for a new sword."
"And you had the same stony look on your face you do now." He sighed and shrugged, running a gloved hand through his hair. "But I guess I've gotten used to that. Tell me, Aaron, since I know you won't beat around the bush, what dastardly deed have I committed to upset you this time."
"Nothing."
A frown. "Nothing... of course." The blonde sighed, crossing his arms across his chest as the weapon shop came into view. Aaron was Aaron, though he had to admit, it was pretty stupid of him to ask as if the killer-for-hire would tell him.
"It looks the same."
A shrug. "Very little has changed around here."
"I noticed."
The mercenary paused just outside the store and wasted several seconds staring up at it. Then, silently, he pushed his way inside, a bell rigning to let the shop keeper know he had customers. And like Aaron had told Titus, very little had changed, both from the outside of the store and the inside. There was still rack upon rack of weapons lining the walls. There were still cases up by the front that held the more expensive merchandise, like the bo the dead man himself carried. And there was still a large middle section so that potential buyers could swing their weapon around a couple of times to get a feel for it.
Moving to past the taller man, Titus immediately headed for the glass cases near the front, bending down to get a better view of the swords as he pressed his hands against the glass like a young child would. He pat the sword at his side, then stroked it gently with a fondness that almost ventured on adoration.
"See here? That right there is the very case I bought you in." He stated, talking more to himself than the sword as memories upon memories bounded into his mind. And then something caught his eye.
"Hey, Old man," He called to the shopkeeper, "I want to see this sword."
And the shopkeeper, who was sitting behind the counter, stood from his post. A moment later, the man was standing on the other side of the case, keys in hand. He fumbled around for the right one for a moment, and then finally, he pushed the metal into the case's lock and turned. The lock opened with a pleasant 'snick', and the elderly man withdrew the sword from where it was perched, offering it to Titus.
He took the sword gently, staring at the grey handle, before running a finger along the blade itself, only to discover that it was very sharp. Finger in mouth, he swung the blade next to him a few times with his right hand, making sure not to miss accidentally and cut that old shopkeeper's nose off. It was so light, despite it's look. He turned to Aaron.
"Do me a favor?"
"What?"
He pointed the blade toward the middle of the room and grinned.
A small smile found Aaron's own lips. So Titus wanted to spar? That was fine with him. Hands found escrima sticks that were sheathed on either hip and drew them in a fluid motion, like a gunslinger drawing guns. Then, in an equally unbroken movement, he snapped them together to form his trademark bo. True, it probably would have been more pratical to keep the bo in two pieces, because of space constraints, but he preferred the four foot weapon to its two foot counterparts.
"After you."
"Why, thank you." Bowing to him, Titus, removed the sword at his hip and moved to center of the room, assuming an attack stance. He narrowed his eyes a little, concentrating on the man in front of him and the sword in his hands at the same time. It had been a while since he'd last sparred with someone of Aaron's skill level, and silently, he wondered if this, too, was like riding a bike.
* Then I hope I don't fall off right away. * Like lightening, Titus was off, whipping the sword from his lefthand side up and across in hopes of giving Aaron a short-sleeved version of his coat.
But it never happened. Instead, the fiendish mercenary caught the sword in the middle of his bo. A moment was wasted in hesitation, and then Aaron pushed against the blade, attempting to throw Titus back.
He stumbled backward a bit, but many battles before this had taught him not to let his guard down. Keeping the sword in front of his chest, he dashed to the right before spinning around to the left, hoping to catch the older man off guard and to give him enough time to knock the other man to the ground.
Once again, however, solid wood met steel. This time, however, instead of trying to push the blonde back, Aaron swept the bottom of his weapon down towards Titus' ankles. His thoughts were along the same lines as the army major's - if he could get his opponent on the ground, he would have won.
But Titus had quickly remembered how to "ride", and instead of losing his footing like one might have assumed, he jumped and launched himself toward the taller man holding the bo, and in the process, stretched the tenden in his leg a little farther than it wanted to go. Ignoring this, he hoped that maybe if he put all his weight on this pounce attack, maybe it would be able to knock Aaron down, since nothing else was working.
And it did.
In surprise, the fiendish mercenary fell backwards, sunglasses flying from his face. For a moment, he lay there, Titus on top of him, like a giant cat on it's prey. He had lost. And then, another thought struck him. His trademark sunglasses, the ones that hid grey and amber eyes, had somehow come off of his face. In as close to panic as he had ever been since his death, the killer-for-higher groped along the floor with one hand, averting his eyes and hoping Titus hadn't seen them.
Once again, he cursed the living.
The grin that had plastered itself on his face having one slipped of quickly, emerald eyes growing wide as he watched Aaron's face intently. His eyes had never been that color before... had they? He stood up slowly, still staring at Aaron before noticing the sunglasses and moving to pick them up.
"Aaron..." He murmured, craddleing the glasses as he awaited the other man to stand. A whisper, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," he answered as he stood, looking as far down as he could, as if that would somehow shield his eyes. "Give me the glasses."
Titus didn't move. "Aaron." He raised the glasses a little, but didn't directly give them to the other man, waiting, hoping, for an answer that he probably wouldn't get. But even sill, he tried. It seemed that long ago now, those days when Aaron trusted him (almost... well maybe not almost) as much as he had trust Aaron.
"Aaron, come on."
"Give me the glasses."
He raised the glasses so they were almost level with his face, getting a little frustrated and feeling a little put out. "There right here. Take them."
Aaron's glance shot upwards, meeting Titus' eyes with his own fiendish ones for the briefest of seconds as he made sure of the glasses' position. Then, eyes snapping back downwards, he snatched them out of the other man's hands. With almost no hesitation, the dead man put them back on, and then slowly, he reached down for his weapon.
No sound escaped his lips as he watched Aaron bend down to pick up his bo. Even if he'd wanted to say something, he didn't think he'd be able to. Titus gulped, eyes slowly trailing down before he suddenly gained control of his body again. With one swift motion he gripped Aaron's arm with all his strength, so the other man could not pull away.
"Is this... what happened?" His voice was low, for he did not want an audience.
"Happened?" the mercenary echoed coolly.
A thousand ideas raced through his head, but he didn't want to make any conclusions. "To your eyes..." he replied with a little hesitance. "Why are they like that?"
So he was caught. Now the question was did he tell the truth, or did he brush off the question as if Titus has never asked it? Frowning, he decided on the former - now that Titus had seen his eyes, the other man wouldn't give it up until he said at least something.
"Seymour."
That name, as if shot from a gun, caused an instant scowl to settle on the blonde's face. Seymour. The other half of the tyranny that ruled over this world. The very thought of Yunaleska's king made him want to vomit.
"And you didn't do anything? Why didn't you tell Yunaleska?"
A small, bitter smile. "I couldn't."
He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped, closing it again. He'd already pushed to much, and knowing Aaron, it was a miracle he wasn't already dead. He nodded, moving slowly past Aaron to the counter and paying for the sword, before sheathing it and picking up his former one. When he returned to Aaron, he placed a reassuring hand on the elder man's shoulder, but only let it stay for a few minutes. No words passed, and they didn't need to, because everything that needed to be said, was transferred in that mere act of friendship and loyalty.
And to this, Aaron offered a nod of silent gratitude.
"Hm...where to now?" He smiled softly, turning to the older man. "Any ideas?"
"How about lunch?"
He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, sure." Titus glanced around, trying to get his barrings. "Dock is that way, right?" He pointed to the immediate southwest of them, while trying to go back to his previous state of being. Despite his efforts, he couldn't help the tiny frown that formed on his brow.
A nod.
And with this, Titus set off, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Aaron was following.