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paixaorpg2007-05-22 08:16 pm
piratetheskies.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2007-05-22 08:16 pm
Entry tags:
This would be where I die laughing, now wouldn't it?
Characters: Balthier
Content: Balthier arrives into Paixao, and is only mildly traumatized. The trauma quickly leads to frustration, and the conclusion that someone is laughing at him somewhere.
Setting: Nilfheim Gates
Time: Late Afternoon
Warnings: Balthier wants to make the :< face, but can't because then he'd look ridiculous.
It was a rude awakening, to say the least. The fight before hand had been less emotionally grueling than he’d really expected it to be. Nevertheless, he hadn’t counted it as anything less than difficult. What was truly frustrating was seeing a guest to the party do what they had all set out to do.
Worse was the mist beginning to swallow them. Balthier had no intention of just waiting to be destroyed, or transformed by the powers of the mist, but he wasn’t an all out coward. After one particular harsh blow of the stuff in his face, it was time to leave. He opened his mouth to shout for the others to run, and then it hit him.
He wasn’t at the Pharos anymore. The mist was pleasantly gone, along with all the annoyingly frustrating architectural design. A bit in the distance, Balthier could see a sort of gate made out of standing statues, and a line waiting to get in. This was bloody fantastic, he’d realized. One second too long, and now he was paying for it, far before he was ready.
He sighed and looked at the ground. Dead. Well, this was hilariously ironic. Except for the odd part that he wasn’t laughing. Well, not much else he could do except wonder. Why did he still have his accessories? What the hell would he need his gun for in this place?
Seemed odd that he would still have his guns and shots, his defensive equipment, and still need to even breathe if he was dead. Ah, and one more thing that made this seem almost comedic. He still had the Phesant Netsuke. And Vaan had all the bloody phoenix downs. Priceless.
But it was safe to assume, at that point, he wasn’t dead, but rather the mist had transported him somewhere, and the where was the question, wasn’t it? He was certain he’d never seen this place before, and he was even more certain that it didn’t exist on the continent. He also had a hunch that it wasn’t Rozarrian. The dome idea didn’t seem to suit their tastes, and not even they would have statues that hideous.
He moved towards the line, which he noticed moved with alarming pace—as soon as he stepped into it. It took little to no time at all to reach the gate, and the dialogue there was less than pleasing.
“Hello, welcome to Paixao!” Cheerful, wonderful, he was anything but.
“Can we skip the formalities? Where the devil is Paixao, and where’s the nearest airship dock to get out?” Balthier demanded, rapping his knuckles against the smooth wooden surface that counted as a sort of desk.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about sir, but please, take a journal and a brochure, and step inside!” the man announced, all but pushing the said objects at Balthier, though he really had no problem taking them. It was just a matter of his questions having been ignored that he didn’t appreciate.
“I doubt you’ll find me stepping inside of anything until my questions are answered,” he responded smoothly, pocketing the journal and opening the brochure with flitting glances.
However, the more that he thought of it, the more he had to wonder if his friends were actually inside of the domes. Likely, they would be, if he were near. Thus, it might be better to step inside then to cause unnecessary attention to be drawn towards himself. At least, not until he got some information.
He ignored the diminutive little man, and stepped inside the city.
Content: Balthier arrives into Paixao, and is only mildly traumatized. The trauma quickly leads to frustration, and the conclusion that someone is laughing at him somewhere.
Setting: Nilfheim Gates
Time: Late Afternoon
Warnings: Balthier wants to make the :< face, but can't because then he'd look ridiculous.
It was a rude awakening, to say the least. The fight before hand had been less emotionally grueling than he’d really expected it to be. Nevertheless, he hadn’t counted it as anything less than difficult. What was truly frustrating was seeing a guest to the party do what they had all set out to do.
Worse was the mist beginning to swallow them. Balthier had no intention of just waiting to be destroyed, or transformed by the powers of the mist, but he wasn’t an all out coward. After one particular harsh blow of the stuff in his face, it was time to leave. He opened his mouth to shout for the others to run, and then it hit him.
He wasn’t at the Pharos anymore. The mist was pleasantly gone, along with all the annoyingly frustrating architectural design. A bit in the distance, Balthier could see a sort of gate made out of standing statues, and a line waiting to get in. This was bloody fantastic, he’d realized. One second too long, and now he was paying for it, far before he was ready.
He sighed and looked at the ground. Dead. Well, this was hilariously ironic. Except for the odd part that he wasn’t laughing. Well, not much else he could do except wonder. Why did he still have his accessories? What the hell would he need his gun for in this place?
Seemed odd that he would still have his guns and shots, his defensive equipment, and still need to even breathe if he was dead. Ah, and one more thing that made this seem almost comedic. He still had the Phesant Netsuke. And Vaan had all the bloody phoenix downs. Priceless.
But it was safe to assume, at that point, he wasn’t dead, but rather the mist had transported him somewhere, and the where was the question, wasn’t it? He was certain he’d never seen this place before, and he was even more certain that it didn’t exist on the continent. He also had a hunch that it wasn’t Rozarrian. The dome idea didn’t seem to suit their tastes, and not even they would have statues that hideous.
He moved towards the line, which he noticed moved with alarming pace—as soon as he stepped into it. It took little to no time at all to reach the gate, and the dialogue there was less than pleasing.
“Hello, welcome to Paixao!” Cheerful, wonderful, he was anything but.
“Can we skip the formalities? Where the devil is Paixao, and where’s the nearest airship dock to get out?” Balthier demanded, rapping his knuckles against the smooth wooden surface that counted as a sort of desk.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about sir, but please, take a journal and a brochure, and step inside!” the man announced, all but pushing the said objects at Balthier, though he really had no problem taking them. It was just a matter of his questions having been ignored that he didn’t appreciate.
“I doubt you’ll find me stepping inside of anything until my questions are answered,” he responded smoothly, pocketing the journal and opening the brochure with flitting glances.
However, the more that he thought of it, the more he had to wonder if his friends were actually inside of the domes. Likely, they would be, if he were near. Thus, it might be better to step inside then to cause unnecessary attention to be drawn towards himself. At least, not until he got some information.
He ignored the diminutive little man, and stepped inside the city.
no subject
However, he couldn't think of a rhyme or reason for the other two. The fairy that accosted him almost immediately after the carped (and the thing with the carpet) immediately gave him the sense that he'd not only been thrown off the face of Ivalice, but straight into a children's storybook. The notion had occurred to him before, but this perhaps cemented it.
So, he was playing the part of a hero in a land of fantasy, then? Very well, he could manage that until he found his friends and saw fit to escape from this disturbing place. Of course, the carpet was priceless enough to come with him.
He glanced on his shoulder at the blue, monster-like creature that was perched there, before promptly brushing him off. There would be none of that. He wasn't fond of animals that reminded him of the fiends that had attempted numerous times to kill him in his travels.
"And once again, something I wasn't expecting. Who are you, hm?" he asked to the young fairy, only momentarily deterred from the carpet. He placed a foot on the thing, and he had to admit. He was shocked when it didn't give way.