towerofanimus

Characters: Kuja and YOU
Setting: Floor 5, Floor 20
Format: Prose, but I'm willing to adjust.
Summary: Kuja woke up, dressed properly, then went to verify the note. He doesn't like what he sees.
Warnings: Depression, discussion of planet destruction, slight dissociation, suicidal thoughts

Floor 5

One of the first places Kuja found was the observation floor, peering into one of the viewing terminals. He had awakened disoriented and alone, wondering if he was in some sort of afterlife or final hallucination. The note he discarded as rubbish, focusing instead on finding true answers (and something more stylish). While he found his clothes easily enough (though many might find them startling), the red around his eyes is a touch crooked, the neutral color on his lips not quite perfect, his rust-colored nailpolish overlapping onto his cuticles in places.

What he found was a world destroyed. Gaia's once lush surface scrubbed clean of all life, leaving only dust and rock. Not even the Iifa Tree was left, no Mist leaking from caves, no monsters roaming the worldwide desert. The atmosphere was either sucked out or burned, the sky black and empty.

I won't let this world exist without me!

Floating up in a rush of agony and power, Kuja had unleashed it all on a half-dead planet. What plant life had managed to florish he cut down, burning glassy stems and watching them fall into other, asymmetical dominos falling and shattering against one another. Fauna was no safer than flora, an instant extinction as bodies were crushed by plants and scorched by magic. He even burned the silver dragons he was so fond of before, reveling in the beauty of their smoldering pale feathers. Bran Bal was crushed in a trice, and Kuja soared like a vengeful god cutting a swathe of judgement. Soon only the surface remained but it wasn't enough, it had to be hollowed and smashed just like Kuja, just like his ambitions and future and - and as the atmosphere was next to set ablaze, Kuja shaped some around himself as he sliced through the crust of the planet, molten chunks of the mantle exploding out and solidifying as it met the chill of space. Still not enough; not nearly enough. Kuja had to destroy more, had to stomp the pieces into space dust so there was nothing left, nothing but the void of space and the light of more stars with old screaming light that needed to be snuffed and silenced, nothing for ever more, nothing nothing nothing -

Nothing left. Nothing left of his past, nothing left for his future. Nothing left of his last pinprick of hope. Kuja stared at the console, numb with thoughts that circled but couldn't find rest. "Do I need a reason to help people?" was only met with "let's be happy here", a moral and a life and a soul made pointless for being cut short. A victory made pyrrhic by weak vacillation, by that damned boy who wouldn't back down and stole respect.

Eyes continued to stare at the wasteland, but they saw nothing.

Floor 20

On the edge of the platform into the empty space, Kuja sits, kicking his heels and heedless of the fall. Fair away from the staircases, he's hunched over, staring at the space below his feet. The note from his room is crumpled in his fist, but eventually he smooths it out and carefully folds it. Paper airship complete, he tosses it into the void, watching float downward before setting it ablaze with magic until it's reduced to ashes on the breeze.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Vivi hadn't expected to find anyone in the observation room - he himself had kept far away from the dreaded place after his first experience with them. So what had brought him here? Perhaps a small flicker of recognition for his creator?

He still hadn't been prepared to see the familiar silhouette of the man, and a trickle of icy cold dread went through his back before he straightened. If Kuja was here, then perhaps the others had survived? And after all, even if Kuja was responsible for so much... he and Vivi were much the same, puppets made for a purpose who woke up and rebelled.

So, with a little wiggle to pull up his belt, Vivi quietly entered the room, stopping a bit behind Kuja. "... Hi."

At first Kuja doesn't notice, doesn't respond, too wrapped up in his morbid thoughts. When he looks for the source of the greeting, he looks down and. His breath stops, eyes widen, not believing what he's seeing. It's impossible. If Gaia was destroyed, then how..?

"H..."

Was he hallucinating? But no, the little... one was there, breathing and real. Slowly, Kuja starts laughing.

"Hahahaha! Of course! Who else should be spared but two puppets like us? It's just too funny! Ahahahaha..."

Vivi winced at the far too familiar laughter but hey, if he can manage not to die from heart failure from hanging around the Grand Highblood, he can handle the half-crazed Genome.

With a quiet sigh, Vivi just stared at Kuja, waiting for the man to calm down.

Half-crazed isn't too far off the mark: Kuja keeps laughing like he can't stop, like his voice is acting on its own. He still isn't entirely sure Vivi isn't some guilt-induced hallucination. Eventually he falls silent at last, staring back at Vivi.

"Well?" Kuja says at last, "No words? No violence? Have you lost your fire, little puppet?"

Vivi shrugged, just a bit bitter as he muttered, "No but that's coming sooner than later isn't it?"

He then sighed again, looking down at his hands for a moment before glancing up at Kuja again, sincere as he asked, "Are you okay?"

He was worried that Kuja might have sustained some injury when Gaia was destroyed, and he wasn't entirely sure just yet if he himself was responsible for said destruction or not.

Physically, Kuja was perfectly fine: none of the injuries he sustained while fighting Zidane and his group remained, his clothes were somehow mended, even the sense of doom from his imminent demise was gone. Mentally, however, he was much more of a mess. The answer is simple; Kuja covers his face with his hand, taking a deep breath before facing Vivi again, not looking him in the eyes.

"...No."

But then again...

"Do I need a reason to help people?"

"How old are you?"

Vivi frowned at the answer, and the frown only deepened with the question. Scratching his head through the hat, he thought on the answer for a moment before slowly answering, "... I think maybe over a year now. A year since Grandpa picked me up at least."

Pausing for a bit, he asked quietly, "I don't have much longer, do I?"

A year. Not long by most standards, but precious for short-lived creatures such as Vivi. How much to tell him? Kuja was still reeling from his own mortality, though he felt fine now. Perhaps the knowledge of the other Black Mages have prepared him better..?

"Do you want me to be blunt?"

He shrugged, already resigned to his fate. "You're always blunt."

That surprised Kuja into an amused snort. Really, when did he get this cheeky? Better than useless anger and passivity, he supposed.

"Very well. You were part of a very small prototype set, the first to come out of the new mass-production system. If the others are Types A, B, and C, you might be a Type 0. Since all the Black Mages are meant for the most dangerous position as the front lines and can't take up a lot of resources, they were never meant to last. I only made them to live six months at the very most, three months at the least.

"As for you... I'm not sure. You could have another year, or another decade if you're lucky. All the other prototypes were destroyed before I could find that out."

Kuja should try hanging around the Grand Highblood - the growing cheeky streak was probably the only thing keeping Vivi alive in that troll's presence at this point.

He couldn't hide the flinch though when Kuja explained the 'mass-production' of Black Mages. He'd accepted that he and the other mages had been made as opposed to born, but still... hearing it explained in such a way was still disturbing.

"So what you're saying is... I could just drop dead right now."

Kuja sighed, not entirely unsymapthetic to Vivi's plight (far from it), but uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't know how to say as much without sounding entirely insincere. So he would remain detached.

"I mean your lifetime might be two years or a dozen. I was running out of time so I couldn't wait to test that. Even my data is based on the theories of Genome production."

Vivi just sighed, shivering a bit at the familiar chill he got whenever he thought too much on his imminent death. He brushed off the front of his jacket with shaking hands. "Oh well... we all have to die sometime, right?"

Kuja doesn't answer, not wanting to dwell on this topic in the least. Not wanting to question the point of living if it's all going to vanish anyway. So instead he focuses on present problems.

"What have you told the tower about me?"

Vivi gave him an odd look, and if his face could be seen, it would be one of confusion. "Nothing...? Why?"

Vivi's expression is clear to Kuja, but he doesn't elaborate on his greater thoughts. Instead, his tone becomes clipped as he looks away.

"I want to get our stories straight. I don't want to talk to the other inhabitants and be ostracized. So, you can talk all you want about how I made the Black Mages for war, how they woke up and fled, and how much you hate me, but if you so much as breathe a word of my greater goals, you'll know exactly how long your life will be."

Kuja glared down at Vivi, lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

"Do I make myself clear?"

The look of confusion quickly turned to one of shock, then morphed into anger before settling on hurt. "... I'm not that stupid," he mumbled, lowering his head in pretence of examining his front as he dusted his hands over it.

He turned to go, deciding that he'd probably never get along with his maker, before hesitating. "... Try to be careful. Th-The Tower can be pretty dangerous."

Warning given, he started to waddle off, adjusting his hat on the way.

[001]

Floor 5 /quietly flails at castmate

SCREECH my dreams have come true ;w; <3

/FLAILS

I've always wanted to play off a Vivi <3 castmates for FF9 are so rare

\o/

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sob poor vivi

B-Baww, Kuja you prick XD