Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Multifaceted ❯ #24: Weapon - Double-edged ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Double-Edged Fandom: Final Fantasy VI Character: Kefka Palazzo Theme(s): #24: Weapon Rating: PG Disclaimer: The setting and characters are property of Square Enix. I'm merely playing in their sandbox. Note: Having writer's block sucks.   *   There were two main training grounds in Vector, one for the army and a smaller one for the officers. There were also a smaller one only accessible to the highest ranking officers, the three generals. Leo generally used the public training grounds, as he enjoyed working with his troops, but that day, there had just been too many people there, practicing for the South Figaro invasion. More people in there and people would start hitting each other with their swords.   So Leo had opted to take advantage of his rank for once, and gone to the generals’ training ground. They were great training grounds; Leo just wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of exclusive rights. Besides, he enjoyed having a sparring partner, and he was very rarely at the training grounds at the same time as Celes. They were both too busy to take breaks whenever they wanted.   However, to Leo’s surprise, the training ground wasn’t deserted like it usually was. It wasn’t that Leo had forgotten about the last general; it was pretty impossible to forget about someone as eccentric as Kefka Palazzo, it was just that the man generally focused on his magic abilities only, not bothering with weapons.   It didn’t mean he couldn’t use one, though. Kefka wasn’t all that strong, but he was very fast and agile, and, as in everything else, highly unpredictable. If he had to wear arms for any reason, Kefka wore a slender flammard, which Leo had seen him use maybe twice. He was perfectly profient with the sword, which was probably made specially for him, he just preferred to let his opponents come closer. That way, they were thinking he couldn’t use it, and he could then stab them to death using the stilettos he usually had up his sleeves.   It was those stilettos Kefka was practicing with now, moving automatically through various stances and styles.   Leo carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to alert Kefka to his presence just yet. The two of them didn’t really get along. At all. But he did admire some qualities the other man had; his natural grace included. While much smaller than pretty much everyone else around him, Kefka was perfectly suited for fast and liquid movements. He rarely bothered with armour, and if he did, it was leather, to restrict his movement as little as possible. Kefka had disarmed Leo during a competition back when they were still on fairly friendly terms, once, much to Leo’s dismay. Getting beaten by someone who only reached your shoulder wasn’t exactly fun.   He had to admit, though, that Kefka was fun to watch while practicing. Not only did he move fluently, but for the sake of movement, he’d opted to wear fairly simple and less glaring clothing than usual, and his long hair had gotten halfway loose from his ponytail, falling around him rather fetchingly. It was odd how much softer Kefka’s usually sharp features seemed when his hair was down. Almost enough to make him look pretty, which was probably why he wore it up. Not that Kefka was unattractive; really, he was just not conventionally attractive, either. There was something off about him. But he was decidedly interesting to watch, and not just because of the mastery he was currently exhibiting with his daggers.   Leo was perceptive. It was a necessary quality in his line of work. He spent a lot of time watching people around him, working out strategies on how to deal with them and how to interact. The thing he’d noticed about Kefka that he suspected nobody else quite understood was that the other general had great difficulties focusing on one thing. His mind seemed to go in every possible direction at once, leaving Kefka with a really short attention span that most people seemed to attribute to his general unpleasant personality. Leo strongly suspected Kefka was unable to focus properly.   As such, he wasn’t all that surprised when Kefka suddenly stopped moving; tilting his head to one side as though listening to something only he could hear. He quite possibly was. Seemingly without noticing, he reached up and yanked at his ponytail, trying to get it loose so he could tie it back up properly. He only half succeeded, ending up looking somewhat like a drenched dandelion.   “Amusing you, am I?” Kefka asked, his voice tinged with annoyance. Not that it wasn’t usually tinged with annoyance.   The unbidden smile that had crept onto Leo’s face at Kefka’s rather undignified struggle with his hair disappeared. “How did you know I was here?” He’d been careful not to make any sounds that could alert the other man to his presence.   Kefka turned towards him, one of his patented demented grins on his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tossed his stilettos carelessly to the floor, without even watching. They made a loud clinking sound as they hit the stone patio.   Leo eyed the daggers. Kefka’s stilettos were expensive, custom made weapons, with real rubies set into the pommels, and yet he treated them as though they were no more worth than the cheap practice daggers the newest army recruits started out with. It was hard to tell if it was arrogance or just Kefka being Kefka. The other general had an excellent brain. He just didn’t use it in the same way normal people did.   Ignoring his weapons entirely, Kefka seemed more interesting in his hair than anything, having finally gotten the ribbon out of his hair. As a result, he now looked less like a dandelion and more like a mop. Leo was reminded again why he kept his hair short. Kefka didn’t seem that bothered by it, though, combing through it with his claw-like nails before braiding it loosely back. His hair ribbon was sparkly purple with glittery gold specks. A typical Kefka item, whimsical and shiny. But knowing the other man, there was a deeper reason for him using that ribbon. Just probably not a reason anyone else would get.   Once he’d finished fixing his hair, Kefka stretched and headed towards the door. “The training grounds are all yours, Leo,” he said, pronouncing his name as strangely as ever. It was another of those quirks of his nobody knew if was real or just affected. Kefka had spoken oddly as long as Leo had known him. He spoke in a fairly high-pitched voice, his tone lilting, and he randomly put the stress on the wrong syllable, or elongated a vowel that shouldn’t be. When you added his constant fluctuation between various degrees of politeness and familiarity, you had the recipe for a really odd pattern of speech.   “Don’t forget your daggers,” Leo said, eyeing the weapons in question. They were unusually flamboyant for weapons usually wielded by assassins and similar, but then, these were Kefka’s daggers, and while they looked flashy, they were as sharp as any high-quality dagger. Technically, he could just leave them there. Even if anyone but the generals had been allowed in there, nobody was suicidal enough to mess around with anything related to Kefka. Leo wasn’t exactly afraid of Kefka, but the man did unsettle him, and often, he didn’t feel like doing anything to cause a confrontation. Besides, he knew all too well that Kefka coated his daggers in poison, and he’d rather not risk it.   Kefka turned on his heel, almost fluidly, tilting his head to one side and looking up at Leo. “My weapons…” His voice seemed to flow around the words, trailing into nothingness once they were spoken. The look on his face had Leo fighting back the urge to flinch. It was eerie how Kefka on occasions could seem otherwise rational, but his eyes would gleam with something that hinted at just what was going on in his head. Now was definitely one of those times. Kefka’s eyes, a pale grey-blue colour, were wide open, and the pupils retracted, making him look rather like the insane mage he was.   “I don’t need any weapons,” Kefka said, looking at the discarded daggers. He laughed to himself, as though thinking of something funny, though after a while, his laughter quieted down and he turned, walking out of the room. Before turning around the corner and out of sight, he leaned on the doorframe.   His eyes showed an unsettling amount of clarity as he spoke. “I don’t need any weapons. I am one.”   Then he was gone.