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chofi: (Default)
Title: "Anything You Can Do..."
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII XII
Characters: Basch, Fran, Balthier
Rating: PG, PG-13 at most
Notes: Holy shit, I wrote FFXII fic. Actually, I started this one roughly a billion years ago (five months in real time), thanks to a Cid/Vincent post on Fandom Wank that deviated into FFXII awesome. So, um, kind of weird and choppy, and I haven't developed a proper Basch-voice yet. I can only claim something of a hang of Balthier because I used to rock the purple prose back in the day.


The growing amounts of flying enemies were enough of a sign. Basch knew it was time to hone his archery. They had made camp for the night, and there was time enough before his watch to practice.

He took a bow and a quiver full of cheap onion arrows. A stump would serve as his target, for now, working towards smaller and moving things. He raised the bow and took aim.

"You are not knocking the arrow properly. The distance it can travel will suffer."

Not for the first time, Basch cursed his atrophied skills. At his height he would have been able to detect... no, he would not. Viera made no footfalls. Basch lowered the bow. "I have been taught archery thus, and it has served me well. My skill is best in front-line combat."

Fran wordlessly extended her arm. Feeling very much like a schoolboy mercifully doled extra tutelage, Basch gave her the bow. She selected an arrow with the care of an obvious expert. She raised the bow, took aim, and fired. The onion arrow was true, and buried by more than half in the stump. "I have trained many apprentice warders during my time in the Wood. I have corrected many forms." She said it with no malice or conceit.

She lowered the bow. "Perhaps an arrangement can be made?"

"What do you propose?"

"I have been taught combat to protect the Wood, but the world is not the Wood. I must learn other forms." She allowed herself a thin smile. "Balthier has taught me the rudiments, but his skill only goes so far."

Basch glanced around for the sky pirate in question. He was surely out of earshot; Balthier would not keep silent towards any claims that he was lacking in any way. His mind returned to the matters at hand. "Where would you begin?"

Fran's answer was immediate. "You held yourself well when we started out of Barheim. We start without weapons." She walked to the stump and set the bow down on it, taking care that it kept its balance. She not so much set herself into stance as swayed into it, effortlessly, one moment calm and the next at the ready.

Basch raised his fists and waited. Not long, as she darted in and began a series of rapid strikes.

She did not need further instruction in hand-to-hand, that much was very obvious.



Balthier dismissed the initial, florid prose about tawny lions and sleek panthresses. Still, his dear Fran and the good Captain Basch deserved praise, applause, and perhaps a call for several encores. All the best perfomances did, even if the actors were unaware of their audience.

A word on the "martial arts," now there was a proper comparison. No muted, patterned and padded dance for those who would never see a battle. Instead, a display choreographed solely in the moment, as dangerous as the parties involved wished it to be.

The comparison to lions and panthresses flitted back to mind, and again, he dismissed it. Such ideas really wouln't do, especially now that his leggings grew that much tighter than they normally were. Whoever coined the phrase "heat of battle" certainly knew what he was talking about. He hoped Fran and Basch were affected in a similar way. It'd be best if they coped together.

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Comments

[identity profile] artimusdin.livejournal.com wrote:
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:21 am (UTC)
Heeee. <3 Poor Balthier, being unintentionally taunted like that. *glees*
[identity profile] chofi.livejournal.com wrote:
Jul. 23rd, 2007 01:58 pm (UTC)
It really is a crime. People should know what turns Balthier on. It's only right.