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[Final Fantasy XII] Dreams To Dream

T

The Silver Muse

Super-Earth
Joined
Jan 18, 2009
Location
PST
It had not been long over a month since she had stepped past the village's ancient magic gates and never turned to look behind her. Her first recollection upon awakening into the world of Ivalice was the warmth of the dawning sun on her face, the cool tide of open wind from across the plains, the oceans breathing gently against her cheek. When she had reached the edge of the land she looked up and saw the reflection of the water against a clear and inverted bowl of azure overhead, no canopy cover. Her eyes bore witness to saw how the sky went on for an eternity. Love at first sight.

When she first traveled within the vessels that sailed the skies, the blue embraced her. It had been an experience and feeling indescribable. Even now, as she was grounded and merely worked, finding odd jobs hunting bounties and repairing sand clogged vehicles, her goal was to touch the sky again. Just another ride in the endlessness, and another, and another. Learning about Ivalice and its people and races, its history and cultures. Learning about herself and her dormant interests brought to life with the rebirth she had chosen.

But birth itself was a traumatic event, and her new life was not without its shortcomings. Gil was scarce, Viera were not common upon the roads of Rabenastre despite all its varied populace. She also had many talents, few places to put them forth in the adequacy they deserved. The Humes had a tendency to stare. So long as they did not bother her, they got along fine with a certain degree of isolation. There were shortcomings, surely, but she had chosen them. It was still incomparable to the former lifestyle she led.

On some portentous day during her usual visit to the bounty board, there was a more peculiar sign that had been not authorized and posted. It spoke of adventure and great rewards in cryptic tones that spelled trouble and danger, mentioning a shipwright's guild in Archades. But other than that, it was vague. She took it with her, of course.
 
Balthier stared down into the large crate on the landing pad beneath the Strahl, his expression showed regret. The mithril helmet of a judge sat amongst the chocobo hay that packed the crate. The final symbol of his old life as a judge. With a breath he laid down the last piece of wood on the crate, nailing it in. So ended his career as a judge, it was time to be a sky pirate...

After securing the crate in his ship's cargo hold he came back down the ramp, running a hand through his hair after the work. His old armor was heavy, it had been a heavy burden too, dealing with his father... He forced himself to grin cooly, patting the gun at his side assuredly. He was docked in a major docking port, airships flew about outside of the closed port the humming engines.

The first thing he had did was post an advertisement at the local tavern, hoping against hope to find some competent hands that might be willing... Or desperate enough to go into pirating in the skies. There weren't many that were suitable for the job. Balthier had run into trouble a number of times over his short time as a pirate, not like being a judge...

He knew the armored protectors were on the lookout for him, under his real name of course. He was under a new alias now. He had gotten his ship and ditched the place, only taking his armor with him. He didn't know why he didn't leave it in his quarters... He hummed an old tune as he went about his large ship, it would need some upgrades. He contemplated on whether to fix it with weapons... Running a smart hand along the bottom side of it, smooth metal...
 
She had often come to the place where the airships rested. It was usually from afar that she watched, or somewhere along the sidelines. A position there was the best way to learn and hear their workings. Otherwise, when the foreign woman was not a passenger, she had little business being there in order to come as close as she would have liked. Maybe it was because she was female, or maybe it was her race. The Humes could be suspicious and possessive. Rightfully so, for it was their ship and they were valuable. Unless she managed to take an ad involving their construction or repair first, it was difficult coming too close. For now she could.

It was difficult finding the proper shoes to match the arch of her feet, but her tall white sandals were subtle enough as they tapped against the steel deck along the docks. The armor of a Wood Warder was unnecessary when she was not out collecting bounties, and so she wore a simple gown, white with earthen colored sleeves and sides, the length slightly above midway of her thighs. She had donned a pair of umber capris beneath it.

"This belongs to you?" She asked to announce her presence and intention, presenting the ad she had begotten. It was a fine ship. She had never seen its make or model before, which made it a very curious sort of prospect. Either its proprietor was a clever and wealthy designer, or possessed some sort of exclusive connection which lead to such an auspicious treasure. At the very least, he appeared to be a normal man.
 
Balthier's attention turned from the glossy underside of the strahl to his visitor, a Viera. A rare sight indeed... The man crossed his arms and regarded her appraisingly, her straight up posture and feminine figure made him smile lightly. "Yes, she is under my ownership, The Strahl," He gestured behind him in a wide arc of his arm, turning back to her and putting on a charming smile, "I see you are interested in adventure and riches. I do hope you take your moral values lightly... Or are willing to learn to." He continued around the ship's frontal underside, inspecting the flawless coating.

"You see, my peculiar applicant. In this job there is no room for morals." His attention was turned back to his ship, his appearance belied his curiosity for this girl, "You have passed the first test, you were willing to apply for an unregistered job, I wasn't expecting applicants for weeks."

"Although I must admit..." He looked at her with an almost sultry eye, "I'm happy with the looks of you." He complimented her easily.
 
Was she desperate to have taken the flier, vague and suspicious though it was? Desperate, no, curious, more likely. In the end it was ultimately the ship herself that had drawn the Viera. He scrutinized her form in a way that was more than just a idle wandering of the eyes. He made little secret of it, but it was perhaps a deeper glance than he let on. She did the same for him in her own subtle manner. Judging from his vessel alone, and perhaps the same could be said of most other pilots, this one was no ordinary Hume confined by the laws and ways of their land and cities. The things he said supported that notion. In a strange and unexpected way her intuition told her he was not so different from herself.

All of this in just a few brief moments while she followed the tour along the exterior of the ship. Time would tell any misgivings. And so it would also with her parting from The Wood.

"Morals may be but another choice," she mused. "A way of life." It was not an entirely human concept. The Viera could be said to have their morals as well. A strong distaste and distrust, a wrongness, for outside dealings and wars overall. Her 'moral values' then and now were thusly adjusted. The same could be true to happen again depending on the circumstance. Even now her trust for Humes was very little, lying along a long stretch of years ingrained without their favor.

The tips of her ears brushed beneath the wing of the ship as they passed it by, her fingers touching the metal much like his had before. Her claws made not a sound or scratch with the delicacy of her touch. Her bright amber eyes turned from the hull and towards the man once more as he once again sought her. "Let us hope the mere looks of me may very well beget what remains of your expectations. Your next test?" She prompted expectantly, straightening to cross her arms.
 
Balthier continued to smile at his new friend as she questioned him on his next trial, or rather... Trial by error. "I like your mentality. The Viera have an admirable way of living life, one I could aspire to if I lived three times longer." His keen eyes went from the recruit to the piles of crates just outside the docking bay entrance, armored soldiers were stalking about, seeming to ask questions... It seems the empire was not far from being on his heels. It was time to go. But could he trust this one? Her eyes showed something of neutrality, but he could see she had a fire. Her next test...

One soldier peeked inside the Strahl's docking bay, evidently unsure of what he was looking for. Balthier walked briskly, placing a hand on the Viera's shoulder, he was a head taller then she. "Your next test will be combat... I need to get the ship running so that we can escape to the next city. I have weapons up in the bay of the ship, walk slowly so as to not alert our guest..." He whispered to her with a slightly urgent yet still cool-headed tone.

The solder was dumb, no doubt, he examined the boxes scattered about the entrance and had not seen the hulking mass of the strahl just beyond his eyes. The plattoon would soon be on the two.

They started up the ramp into the ship when Balthier asked, "Your name, Vieran?" He asked as they boarded.
 
Those were very bold words for a Hume. To become like Viera. It may have been out of a sense of pride, or simply what she had known and done herself, that gave her cause to question it. While there was still much to be said and much skepticism to be held the Viera stilled her tongue. Antagonizing a potential opportunity and one that held her growing interest was not the wisest path to take so soon. Her silence on the matter might have been enough in and of itself. The comment passed just as many tangents did, though, and the true tasks and information at hand hand grew deeper by the moment.

Soldiers were not frequent visitors to the place of commute except when there was trouble, or criminals, afoot. Her new acquaintance had to him more than just a fancy ship after all. She turned her attention from them to the touch laid at her shoulder and her eyes flickered to his. It was rare for a Hume to rival her height. Once she was in her proper attire it might very well become better matched. Her belongings were few but plenty for her, and she had gathered them all into the pack she bore at her back before coming. She did the same any chance she visited the Aerodome.

Somewhere from the moment when she had taken the parchment from the bulletin, to the point that she followed the man into his ship now, she had become an exile twice removed.

"Fran." The interior of the ship was nothing like those created for bearing passengers. This one was a fighter, like her, and she was pleased with it. There was no flinching or backing down to the challenge he so nonchalantly presented in combat. "Yours?"
 
The sky pirate had walked into the ship's hold and looked through the crates and boxes lined up along the sides, "Ah!" He found the weapons cache that had been confiscated by the judges a month ago, he had been on that hold-up. Some outlaws attempting to move arms into Archadia. He took a crow bar and wrenched it open. "Fran, we'll have to exchange pleasantries later, you may call me Balthier." The wooden panel of the crate fell to the metal floor of the Strahl's bay. An assortment of weapons laid in the hay before them. He smiled down at the collection and then up at her, "I am the leading man in our story." He said, sticking a thumb at himself.

The soldier outside, after properly investigating the crates came about and staggered as he discovered the large ship, fumbling for a piece of parchment he looked at the picture of the same ship that laid in the aerodome dock that he saw before him...

The same. "Sir! I've found it!" The soldier ran back towards the terminal to notify his commanding officer.

Balthier turned from the crate to the shout that issued outside. "Looks as if our time's about to run out. Make yourself useful Fran." He smiled at her and winked, briskly walking to the doorway at the far end of the bay to get into the cockpit. Twisting a switch and allowing the ship to recognize it's new owner the engines began to hum. The Strahl was a quick ship no doubt, but it's folding wing design required it some time to get ready.

[[Cue Final Fantasy Fight music!]]
[[Edited a bit, just watched a movie that showed the Strahl's insides, no ladder. :] ]]
 
Balthier. The corner of her lips couldn't help but to twitch slightly at his own introduction. A leading man of a story? And what did that make her, exactly? Like he had pointed out it wasn't quite time for an interesting sort of discussion. The crate that had been uncovered offered up an assortment of weapons she had not seen or worked with since her wandering. But they were all familiar, belying a similar principle. For combat.

While the pilot left to begin their departure, Fran set down her belongings to settle there, taking up a long Flame Staff from the assortment. She tested its weight by turning it in both hands, gaining some insight upon its properties. By the time a series of footsteps could be heard storming for the steps leading into the ship, the first soldier along the line was forbidden entry, bearing the brunt of a thrust from the staff into the armor of his chest. The rest either fell or scrambled to either side of the ramp to avoid the cascading effect of the fall. There was a group of them, five or so, that were gathered at the base of the steps that Fran appeared upon the apex of.

"This ship knows a new master now." Fran informed them, the whirring of the gravitational discs buzzing in her ears. Standing against what appeared to be Imperial soldiers did very little for her reputation, but she was no longer a stranger to disobeying the authority. So the ship was stolen. She held as much fidelity to the Empire as the Viera had for the world.

"Seize them!" One of the masks called out, the remainder advancing again as they brandished their swords. They were met with her as the guard, jumping back down to the dock, throwing off their blows with a twist or swing from her blunt weapon. Their was no knife edge, but her turns and arcs lent her enough force to crush armor and bones if the point she struck was weak enough. Her discerning eye would judge the points that were. Despite the crates that littered the bay, it was more than enough room for her to move with the weapon she had chosen, allowing only so many to crowd in around her at once.

The last man standing along the group fell as Fran launched a powerful side kick, sending the man sprawling across the dock to its entrance where another multitude had caught up and now ran towards her in full force. With the space yet to close between them, Fran hurtled a large whorl of fire at the men, turning the metal armor they wore near red from the intensity lent by the staff. That done, the pitch of the engines changed, and she hurried back into the ship while the soldiers were left to either catch up or strip out of being burned.

"Let us go!" Fran called as she guarded the ramp before its closing, finding a bow to pick off the remaining pursuers as they came too close.
 
Balthier tried to take no notice of the fighting going on in the next compartment, but he heard no calls for help. Pulling back on the controls the Strahl rose sharply, one soldier midway into rushing Fran fell backwards and grabbed onto the ramp as it took off. Balthier pulled another switch and the ramp began to close, crushing the man's hand before having to let go and falling the two-story drop. The Strahl continued up into the blue cloudy sky, it's wings disengaged from their curled in positions and spread out, ready for high-speed flight. "Spread your wings..." Balthier handled the throttle, focused ahead on the sky, they would flee to Dalmasca, certainly more hospitable and outside of Archaedes grasp. Balthier pushed the throttle forward hard, gunning the engines, "and Fly!" he exclaimed dramatically. The Strahl smoothly flew forth, en route to the neighboring kingdom of Dalmasca.

The ground had become a blur. Balthier turned about in his chair, "A fine job my accomplice." He complimented, smiling as he laid back into the headrest.
 
She kept her balance as the ship shuddered and then rippled through the air to begin their course, making her way to the front of the vessel. The borrowed weapon was laid back to rest within the bed of straw from which it came.

"You've planned the fates to play your story." Fran said to the man, impressed with the ship, the situation, and the uncertainty of everything. She ducked beneath the frame leading into the cockpit where he awaited her to spare her ears. Looking about the room and its controls from where she stood, Fran took only a step closer before leaning against one of its passenger seats to regard him. "How quickly was I to play a part." A hand went up to smooth back a portion of her ivory tresses. Her formal attire would seem to be most suitable to the new profession she had rushed into. She would change to it at the next best opportunity.

"So quick were you to judge that I would not leave you to abandon. How?" She inquired. He might have been an able warrior, too, but he had relied on her so completely that he might have been left utterly unguarded.
 
Balthier crossed his arms, taking into account each of Fran's questions. The Strahl sailed smoothly through the sky, well above the clouds now, away from danger. Luckily the Arcaedian task force had decided to come to the Aerodome on foot. He smiled at her regarding of his story, so she played along with his game.

"Perhaps... I had a good feeling about you." He swiveled in his chair, regarding the blue sky in the canopy as they sailed their way through it. "I do have to test your competence somehow, and this ship has a few tricks of her own if my intuitions were not correct." He flipped a switch on the console, standing up and regarding Fran at full height. He smiled fully at her as he returned to the rear compartment, speaking to her over his shoulder as he went through the doorway, "Besides, the leading man always has something to rely on at the last moment if all else fails." He patted the gun in its holster on his thigh, walking smoothly.

The sky pirate regarded everything within the ship as he walked down the hall, past the boarding stairs. Truth be told, Balthier had dealt with the Viera before on his missions as a judge, mysterious folks they were, not quick to trust others. He could very well have been wrong about Fran, he may very well still be.

"There are more tests to come my friend." He called out to her across the ship as he made his way to the back lounge and fitting rooms. He went into the pantry and withdrew a piece of fruit, taking a bite of it, he weighed his next movements out. "If you haven't figured it out already, the Archadian judges are after me and my ship... Dalmasca should make a good refuge, given we have clearance to land." He informed her of the essentials for now, chewing on the soft red fruit in his hand. "I'm thinking about acquiring more vehicles..." He said.
 
She followed, though part of her attention had strayed to the view and the console they left behind. It was just as important to see the rest of what the ship had to offer. Besides, along the passage there would still be more time. More if she and he both chose to stay thereafter Dalmasca. The gun at his side was duly noted. Playing the lead role in his own fantasy might have very well lent him a sort of invulnerability to various dangers. Such a thing would have been unrealistic had there not been a good amount of credibility to his back up plans.

"She has been stolen from the hold of Archades," Fran spoke, stating the obvious as she ventured into the lounge. From everything she had gathered and the writing upon the ad, it made the most sense. There was still space and various places to be furnished. The decor and presentation of inside and out were modest. He did not appear to be a modest person. "Recently, at that." Still he possessed intentions to take more. He was no ordinary thief.

"Her name?" It was the way of people to breath life into valuable things. Everything, animate and inanimate, possessed a name and sometimes even a title, as if name's were not enough. Fran leaned against a counter surrounding the area of cupboards but she did not sit, setting her long nails clattering over the dark granite once. "What is your plan there? What shall Dalmasca cling to?" He was free to keep his secrets as surely as she, but there were other points of interest she had right to know. His plans or what he would decide to surprise her with next, for instance.

"The next trial will test and reward us both. That is the share of the accomplice you sought, is it not?" He might have known of some treasure, or at least possessed some form of compensation, for the journey she had just rashly boarded upon. Fran was not to become easy prey to his thievery, but what he had planned, or not planned, might have been worth the adventure itself.
 
"She is the Strahl." Balthier answered, coming also to the counter, he took a similar stance as he leaned against it, though he did not tap his nails against it. He looked her straight in her fair face testingly. "She was indeed stolen recently. I once had free entrance to Archaedes." He knew she had no idea of his past, and he would not give that information up easily. As if anyone could make the connection between him and Doctor Cid, his father. Fran was an interesting creature to be sure, easy on the eyes, her facial expression rarely changed.

"You've got me wrong, Franny." He tried on the pet-name, still staring her in the eyes with a charm only he could master, "I never said I had a plan. But I hear things in local taverns..." His words lingered as he looked at her, trying to capture something in those eyes. It would be a closer proximity the Viera was not accustomed to to be sure, he took a last bite of the fruit, gnawed away to the core now.

Balthier backed off, disposing of the finished food, he stalked about the room, straightening out his billowy white shirt and gold vest. "There are rumors of a new vehicle, a hovering contraption, it would come in handy for heists. We'll investigate once we arrive." He informed her.
 
The Strahl. A good name for a good ship.

They met at eye level from across the small island of space while he divulged just a glimpse; what could very well have been his greatest treasure. It seemed that there would be more to come. Had he been an officer or guard or something more, there in Archaedes? If she stayed long enough to learn she may know. Now was not that time.

Her nose wrinkled slightly at the strange name he used on her. Shame that the word Balthier could not be so easily manipulated. Her mind was not suited for devleoping clever little teases. Even if it was, she would be hard pressed to use them. What point was there in it? Despite the vague distaste she held for the nickname he addressed her by, Fran held her ground along with her gaze. Those amber eyes betrayed nothing more than her clarity upon the situation and the desire to see it through. Living in the moments this individual brought with him might very well prove more interesting within a day than the time spent alone in a month. It already had.

"A wealth of information often lies at the bottom of an empty pitcher." She was curious about this new machine mentioned now. Of all the new things in Ivalice she could experience, machines seemed to hold a special place. They could take to the skies. "These ears may not hear the whispers of the Wood, but the chatter of men never cease." She made her way towards the screens along the fitting rooms with that pack she had brought to go behind them, excusing herself, "A moment." It would be best to change now and be better ready for anything.
 
Balthier smiled a bit at her little metaphor, she was awkward, but wise. "Indeed." He said, "I'm sure those things will come in handy in the future." He came to the two fitting rooms of the Strahl as Fran occupied one of them, curious about what she wanted to change into. That casual wear she had didn't seem to fit his style at all, made her look quite simple aside from her extra extremities; oversized nails and all. Balthier toyed with the idea of peeking over the screen as Fran changed, but immediately thought against it. Looking like some desperate jerk was not part of his story.

He pursed his lips as he listened to the shuffling of clothes, putting one leg up and leaning against the opposite wall, he could see her brown-skinned heels beneath. "Hrm..." He mumbled thoughtfully despite himself, scratching behind his ear.

The Strahl jerked suddenly, had the auto-pilot turned off? The jerk was followed by an alarm, proximity alarm. Something had closed in close to the ship. "Can't be there already..." Balthier remarked, stalking briskly out of the room and away from perverted thoughts. He took a seat at the driver's seat, looking about the canopy. Clear skies... Another thud issued throughout the Strahl. A great thunder of powerful wings was heard overhead even beyond the rushing air as the ship sped. "Wyrms! We ran into a school!" A single black wyrm flew above and screeched at the canopy angrily, the rest of the family not far behind no doubt. It was the equivalent of rattling a hornet's nest.

Balthier took control of the ship, pushing the yoke forward and going into a dive. "Hang on!" He called out behind him.
 
He hovered nearby. She found it somewhat amusing that he would have nothing better to do or distract himself with on a ship so spacious than wait on her. Nonetheless, she took her time without too much concern for his prescence. He did not ire her with his eyes. The metal leatherette armor that she had been given and crafted from her time as a true Viera was still something special to her, knowing that it was the last of those gifts and that which truly belonged to her. It was a material thing, for she possessed her knowledge and skill sets, but there was some comfort in it.

It was after she had pulled back the mane of white and begun to place her helm that the rock came over the body of the Strahl. Her hand braced against the mirror for balance and she sat to fix her heel support hurriedly. The switch in attire came not a moment too soon. Bursting out from the fitting room, feeling more herself than ever in the sudden situation, Fran quickly made her way back to the central area. It was not a simple task when the ground was fickle about which plane it chose to level at. Her hand caught the edge of the door frame as the nose began to point directly downwards, and she dropped to catch a seat and swing into the co-pilot's place.

"What are her defenses?" Fran asked as her eyes scanned over the panel to find them herself, touching the things that she had seen before or bore some familiarity with comparing other models. A YPA design, with some modifications that made it one of a kind. "The turrets?" Her fingers were already flipping the more logical switches that might culminate to such an expenditure of energy, escape or offense.
 
Almost all of Balthier's attention was fixed upon keeping the Strahl stable through the sharp dive. He gritted his teeth, holding the shaking yoke. "I... Haven't fixed her with weapons..." Balthier admitted, still wrestling with it. He turned the ship into a spiral so as to confuse the rogue wyrm chasing them down. The shrill screeches of the rest of the creature's family could be heard, not far behind. The pilot did not dignify Fran with an explanation to a pirate ship not having any armaments, whether he was embarrassed or too caught up in keeping them from getting clipped out of the sky might have been hard to tell.

The Strahl dove beneath the cloud line, dragon in hot pursuit, it's wings clipped to it's sides as it dove along with her. The rattling of the cockpit ceased if only for a moment as they came out from the clouds, wide plains sprawled beneath them, Dalmasca's cities off in the distance.

"I believe we should land..." He said, biting his lip in determination he pulled back on the yoke, the ship slowly came out of it's dive, wyrms still hot on their table. "Can't lose these ones."
 
"No weapons?" Fran echoed, admittedly a bit surprised at that fact. No wonder the signs had been coming back yellow. Escape it was. When that was not even feasible any longer, a more direct confrontation was inevitable. But against a school of Wyrms? "We land, then what?" Fran asked, sparing the pilot a wary glance from her panel. Mysterious and powerful though he might be, she was highly doubtful that even the best warrior would not fare well against a crowd of powerful dragons, or even a multitude of young ones. Unless he meant to leave the ship to the beasts while they made their own escape. That could not be an option.

"Go west," she began to suggest, "There are obstacles along this desert that should aid us yet." An outcropping and network of towers, or the natural formations of rock that walled off various sections of one sandy plain to the next. "A cradle of rocky labyrinth may hide a ship, provided we manuver well." Eyes darting along the rapidly progressing ground, trying to ignore the screeching howls of the creatures tailing them, Fran locked upon a prime location.

"There!" She pointed to indicate its position, the darkness from a ravine among a rocky plateau evident. It was near impossible to spot from afar and at their level, but something had drawn her attention to it regardless. "It looks just wide enough. It leads into a network of unknowns."
 
Balthier twisted the controls hard as a firey breath issued from above, attempting to cut off the ship in it's flight path. Balthier put on a calmer expression, "We land, then work from there." He replied vaguely, pulling a lever, he retracted the wings to their original positions, the Strahl was now more maneuverable.

He smiled as she put a marker down on the HUD, showing the plausible hiding spot, "Excellent work..." but why was it so dark? Another screech from the pursuing wyrms shook him from that thought. Time to act. Balthier piloted the ship, dodging and weaving amidst the flapping wings and hulking bodies, all after the same target. He dove low just before the plateau, aiming to cut into the canyon, "Just wide enough is fine with me..." He remarked cooly, but pulled up at the last second, leveling out above the canyon.

His assumptions were right, that was mist down there. SOmething of a rarity. But it might just save them. He jerked the Strahl hard to the right, engines moaning as they sped along just above the rocks. A dragon circled around, coming directly at the Strahl. "Bloody-" No time for second thoughts, he pushed downwards, the Strahl dipped down into the dark mist...

He cut the engines down to nothing hard, coming to a landing on the ground beneath the haze. The dragons circled above. Balthier was breathing visibly, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Well, that was interesting." The angered screeches could be heard above, the wyrms mad they did not get their revenge.
 
By the time she realized exactly why she knew and was drawn to note and discover the area she had indicated, they were already over it and with no other option. "Mist!" She could feel the fine hairs at the back of her neck and her tail standing on end before they had even plunged headlong into it.

"There is a way through these caverns and out again. There must be." Fran murmured to herself as her fingers danced over a screen she had pulled up along a portion of the console, the camera attempting to scan and zoom into the dark crevices and outlines before them to find or forge a path. For her, the danger was not passed. If anything, she had just begun to become urgent. The metal carapace that sheilded them from the outside could only ward off so much of the Mist. Its aura, presence, and scent, was everywhere. And in such heavy concentration.

"The hatch, Balthier." She told him, her voice tight and as restrained, composed, as she could muster. Too much longer, the length of time it would take to wait out the dragons circling overhead, and she would not be so controlled. "I go to fight the Wyrms alone. I must get out." Attempting to focus, her hands clenched and unclenched as she looked down on them, the red haze beginning to affect her vision.
 
"Fran...? Are you alright?" He questioned her, but complied instantly. The urgency in her voice was unquestionable. "Are you reacting to the mist? I don't think we can take off quite yet." Balthier weighed his options again, the Viera looked as if she might explode. The hatch hissed open at his command. He got up very slowly as she got worse. He backed up from the cockpit, pulling the gun from his holster. Could he shoot her?

The unmistakably eery feeling of the mist roiled in the now open hatch. What could they do now? Balthier waited there, waiting for Fran's next action.
 
She could no longer muster the tolerance it took to apologize. That would have to wait until later. If he had not decided that she was too much of a risk to be abandoned by then. As the Mist rolled into the ship, her breathing grew heavier, ragged. Finally she jolted up and bolted out with a growl, hurtling past the Hume and desperately searching for the exit she knew of in her better mind before it was lost completely. So much Mist. She had never experienced such a heavy concentration of it, all at once, everywhere, from the very bottom of the ravine and filling towards the very top, overflowing and penetrating every corner and crevice of everything.

A heavy spear had found its way into her hand before she rushed out, headlong into the bottom of the midst. From that point there was no place to escape it but up, so up she flew, her armor lending her the greatest agility that her lithe body was so capable of. She vaulted from ship to rock to rock, through the densest cloud of it all before escaping into the bright desert sun and air. And into its swarm of giant wyrm. It could have been suicide. It was. Had it not been for the empowering Mist that had driven her berserk.

With a roar, the wyrm dived after the Viera, the spear finding home within any point that it could without discretion for thick hide or soft underbelly. Certain points allowed her to throw herself upward and onto the very back of the beast itself, a triple fold, Mist enchanced Magick unleashed and consuming the giant corpse before she escaped with a powerful leap to the next. The Mist wound and poisoned those that were knocked down into the ravine had they not been finished before the fall. Spells from the wyrm hurdled against and hurt her, singeing the tips of her hair or burning her skin, but she could not feel the pain and the signals to stop.

Where the sky over the Strahl had once been dense with a ring of wyrm ravens, only two more remained. One fell and brought the spear down with it, implanted within its eye and penetrating into its skull. The other collided with the Viera head on, throwing her up into the air. Her descent brought with it a heavy blow downwards on the wyrm. Jumping back to brace herself for another blow, Fran's vision blurred and left a black void in its place, collaspsing after the forced bout.
 
As Fran collapsed, the Strahl came up from the mist, rotating about to the formation of dead dragon bodies littering the plateau. Balthier had almost missed the lithe form of his new recruit. The Strahl slowly lowered down, with the engines still running, Balthier leapt from the hatch to retrieve her...

Fran would later find herself at an inn in Rabanastre of Dalmasca. A fire was going in the hearth. "The mist has some significant properties... Perhaps I should have known better..." Balthier wrang out a piece of cloth of cold water, feeling over her burn wounds. Nothing totally severe, but she would feel the worst of it after waking up no doubt.

The blind rage he saw in her eyes was something he would learn to be fearful of, surely. He sat at a chair at her side on the bed, soaking over her burnt skin with the cool cloth.
 
A sleep of fatigue to shed the effects of the Mist upon her psyche was likely the only option for recovering herself. In any other circumstance the ability to unleash a certain expenditure of power may have been enough. In such cases channeling the Mist from her form through some sort of exertion was enough. The desert ravine being filled with the culmination, saturating everything and every escape, was another story.

The first note that Fran became aware of before rousing was the scent of the firewood. It was sweet and aromatic. The ache from her burns, be it from the wyrm or her own spells, was next. Along with the cool cloth. Her armor, deceptive though it was in its cover and weight, had managed to ward off most of the damages. The sleeves to her attire had been removed in order to access the burn at her left shoulder which had penetrated through the material, and a portion of her slender legs had been afflicted along a small area of her calf and upper thigh. A groan accompanied the clearing of her head as she breathed in and opened her eyes. The injuries were nothing a good cure spell would not fix, provided she was feeling apt enough to execute them.

"Balthier.." Fran raised herself up to her elbows upon the bed she had been set upon with a wince, trying to sit up and somewhat disoriented. Had he remained with her after witnessing how the Mist ailed her? "What of the wyrm horde?" They had not needed to wait out the rest of their lives, challenging their patience with that of the group that had followed them, but at what cost? "I did not.. attack you?" She ventured, looking him over to be certain.
 
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