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moogle_workshop2013-04-28 03:23 pm
breyzyyin) wrote in moogle_workshop2013-04-28 03:23 pm
{Fan Fic} Mage Roles
Re-posting from LJ just so that I have backups of all of my fics...I apologize in advance for the number of posts I'll be making here in the effort! XD
Username: Yin (ofbreyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
Title: Mage Roles
Summary: Two shorter pieces that combine into one story about Refia's thoughts on being a White Mage and a Black Mage. The first story features a bonding/friendship moment between her and Arc, and the second story is about how casting certain spells helps her to understand her father a bit more.
Characters/Pairings: Refia, Arc, and Takka. Luneth and Ingus are also mentioned.
Word count: 1,017
Rating/warnings: G. Might contain some slight spoilers for FFIII.
----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy III or any of the characters from that game. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----
* Job Lottery *
Refia did not particularly like the flowing robe of the White Mage.
When Luneth had suggested the idea of a lottery this time around to see who would be fitting into which role for the party in the dungeon they were getting ready to traverse, Refia had at first been okay with the idea...figuring it would be better than arguing with him over wanting to have the same role, as had happened in the last two excursions they'd taken until Ingus had stepped in and delegated out the roles himself. She was now looking down at the slip of paper in her hand with a growing sense of resignation, her thoughts on the White Mage robe being the first thing that irrationally floated to the forefront of her thoughts.
She did not necessarily see herself as a healer despite how she often took it upon herself to both look after and keep the others in line. Sure, her skills were adequate in that field: she was at least as good as stalwart Ingus when it came to her spell concentration, especially in the aftermath of tense fights...and not nearly as panic-stricken when it came to remembering the more precise and complex healing spells as Luneth sometimes was during the heat of battle.
...But she felt that the strength of her spells in the White Magic field was only average at best, especially since she felt that she was better attuned to spells of a more offensive nature. The only thing she thought of when she held the staff used in the White Mage class was how she hoped she wouldn't get a blister from gripping the wood too tightly. Or perhaps how she thought the all-white fabric was impractical in dungeons because it would always get dirty...and she was also aware of how silly that thought was without anyone even having to tell her: it made her feel even more embarrassed when she had to wear the robe.
So when they drew lots to see who would get what job this time around and her name was chosen for the healing role, she bit her lip and tried holding her breath on the complaint she so desperately wanted to voice.
She had agreed to doing the silly thing in the first place, after all. It would be a breach of pride that she would never hear the end of from Luneth if she backed out now!
Besides, it was only fair since everyone had agreed to the idea as well, after all...or so she reasoned to herself.
Standing just a few feet away from her, she noticed that Arc was fidgeting where he stood and looking quite distressed himself. She glanced his way more, concerned to see that his freckled face was turning a spectacularly nasty shade of green.
Arc enjoyed all of the Mage jobs a lot more than anyone else seemed to, he practically thrived in them. She often found herself admiring the shyer boy's very obvious talent as an avid magic-user. She winced somewhat, remembering the lottery results and knowing why he was so nervous.
...The poor youth had gotten saddled with the Viking role this time around. His last time filling that role had been far from pleasant, considering how it had taken all three of the other Warriors of Light using a lot of healing spells and items to revive him.
Feeling sympathy for his plight, as well as respect for the fact that he was not going to complain about the lottery results despite his obvious discomfort, Refia tapped Arc's shoulder gently and motioned to the paper he had clenched in a death-grip.
"Want to switch?" she offered helpfully.
The look of relief and gratitude on Arc's face was almost blindingly bright. The two teammates shared a conspiratorial smile and quietly exchanged paper strips.
...It wasn't long afterwards that the whole "lottery" notion was abandoned entirely by the party.
* Flames, Sparks, and Steam *
The first time Refia cast Fire, she finally understood why her father loved blacksmithing as much as he did...why he talked so reverently about the flames that licked the metal he was reshaping as he painstakingly worked it from misshapen ore into glistening weapons and armor.
With her first casting of Thunder, she knew what he saw in the "spark" of contact that came with the impact of his hammer onto that metal lying on the worn-out anvil in his smithy.
Casting the chill of Blizzard, of feeling water in its frozen form, reminded her of when she saw him place his finished work in the bucket of water near his workspace to cool it: the finished masterpiece still steaming as he showed the little girl sitting bored in a stool near the entryway his work, positively beaming.
The desire to tell Takka those things came over Refia so fiercely the first few times that she had cast Black Magic it surprised her...her rod held out in front of her was gripped tightly as the monster they were fighting sagged to the ground, finally defeated.
It was odd how she'd never thought very much of her father's lifework before--of the passion he'd felt for his profession that he'd always simply wanted to share with the only other thing that remotely mattered in his life: his daughter.
...The next time she visited Kazus, she decided that she would forge something with him. The urge to create lingered in her thoughts like the smoldering coals always did in his workspace when she played close by there as a child, and she couldn't help but smile nostalgically at the thought.
Later on, Luneth would joke that Refia looked "way too scary and intense somehow" grinning like she did when she filled in the role of a Black Mage for the party.
The nostalgia quickly faded and was replaced by annoyance then, to which Luneth joked that she looked "even scarier" as she chased him down the passageway they'd just come through. Ingus and Arc followed not too far behind, their faces red from trying to hold in their laughter.
Username: Yin (of
breyzyyin)Class: White Mage
Title: Mage Roles
Summary: Two shorter pieces that combine into one story about Refia's thoughts on being a White Mage and a Black Mage. The first story features a bonding/friendship moment between her and Arc, and the second story is about how casting certain spells helps her to understand her father a bit more.
Characters/Pairings: Refia, Arc, and Takka. Luneth and Ingus are also mentioned.
Word count: 1,017
Rating/warnings: G. Might contain some slight spoilers for FFIII.
----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy III or any of the characters from that game. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----
* Job Lottery *
Refia did not particularly like the flowing robe of the White Mage.
When Luneth had suggested the idea of a lottery this time around to see who would be fitting into which role for the party in the dungeon they were getting ready to traverse, Refia had at first been okay with the idea...figuring it would be better than arguing with him over wanting to have the same role, as had happened in the last two excursions they'd taken until Ingus had stepped in and delegated out the roles himself. She was now looking down at the slip of paper in her hand with a growing sense of resignation, her thoughts on the White Mage robe being the first thing that irrationally floated to the forefront of her thoughts.
She did not necessarily see herself as a healer despite how she often took it upon herself to both look after and keep the others in line. Sure, her skills were adequate in that field: she was at least as good as stalwart Ingus when it came to her spell concentration, especially in the aftermath of tense fights...and not nearly as panic-stricken when it came to remembering the more precise and complex healing spells as Luneth sometimes was during the heat of battle.
...But she felt that the strength of her spells in the White Magic field was only average at best, especially since she felt that she was better attuned to spells of a more offensive nature. The only thing she thought of when she held the staff used in the White Mage class was how she hoped she wouldn't get a blister from gripping the wood too tightly. Or perhaps how she thought the all-white fabric was impractical in dungeons because it would always get dirty...and she was also aware of how silly that thought was without anyone even having to tell her: it made her feel even more embarrassed when she had to wear the robe.
So when they drew lots to see who would get what job this time around and her name was chosen for the healing role, she bit her lip and tried holding her breath on the complaint she so desperately wanted to voice.
She had agreed to doing the silly thing in the first place, after all. It would be a breach of pride that she would never hear the end of from Luneth if she backed out now!
Besides, it was only fair since everyone had agreed to the idea as well, after all...or so she reasoned to herself.
Standing just a few feet away from her, she noticed that Arc was fidgeting where he stood and looking quite distressed himself. She glanced his way more, concerned to see that his freckled face was turning a spectacularly nasty shade of green.
Arc enjoyed all of the Mage jobs a lot more than anyone else seemed to, he practically thrived in them. She often found herself admiring the shyer boy's very obvious talent as an avid magic-user. She winced somewhat, remembering the lottery results and knowing why he was so nervous.
...The poor youth had gotten saddled with the Viking role this time around. His last time filling that role had been far from pleasant, considering how it had taken all three of the other Warriors of Light using a lot of healing spells and items to revive him.
Feeling sympathy for his plight, as well as respect for the fact that he was not going to complain about the lottery results despite his obvious discomfort, Refia tapped Arc's shoulder gently and motioned to the paper he had clenched in a death-grip.
"Want to switch?" she offered helpfully.
The look of relief and gratitude on Arc's face was almost blindingly bright. The two teammates shared a conspiratorial smile and quietly exchanged paper strips.
...It wasn't long afterwards that the whole "lottery" notion was abandoned entirely by the party.
* Flames, Sparks, and Steam *
The first time Refia cast Fire, she finally understood why her father loved blacksmithing as much as he did...why he talked so reverently about the flames that licked the metal he was reshaping as he painstakingly worked it from misshapen ore into glistening weapons and armor.
With her first casting of Thunder, she knew what he saw in the "spark" of contact that came with the impact of his hammer onto that metal lying on the worn-out anvil in his smithy.
Casting the chill of Blizzard, of feeling water in its frozen form, reminded her of when she saw him place his finished work in the bucket of water near his workspace to cool it: the finished masterpiece still steaming as he showed the little girl sitting bored in a stool near the entryway his work, positively beaming.
The desire to tell Takka those things came over Refia so fiercely the first few times that she had cast Black Magic it surprised her...her rod held out in front of her was gripped tightly as the monster they were fighting sagged to the ground, finally defeated.
It was odd how she'd never thought very much of her father's lifework before--of the passion he'd felt for his profession that he'd always simply wanted to share with the only other thing that remotely mattered in his life: his daughter.
...The next time she visited Kazus, she decided that she would forge something with him. The urge to create lingered in her thoughts like the smoldering coals always did in his workspace when she played close by there as a child, and she couldn't help but smile nostalgically at the thought.
Later on, Luneth would joke that Refia looked "way too scary and intense somehow" grinning like she did when she filled in the role of a Black Mage for the party.
The nostalgia quickly faded and was replaced by annoyance then, to which Luneth joked that she looked "even scarier" as she chased him down the passageway they'd just come through. Ingus and Arc followed not too far behind, their faces red from trying to hold in their laughter.