He'd hit upon chocobo farming eventually, taking over a farm that had tried and failed at selling plinkee nuts and rebuilding it with a few chocobo. Now he rented chocobo, trained and raised the large bipedal riding-birds, and had a comfortable if not particularly wealthy lifestyle.
He quite frequently took rides around the countryside with one or another of the birds, often training a second one to act as pack animal and get used to the terrain. Their natural tendency to return to a nest site could be encouraged that way.
As for Trippy and Torchy, he was a little leary of both of them. A clumsy viera was bad enough. The other stared at fires a bit too much and he was afraid of losing the cabin if she turned out to be a pyromaniac.
Still, they were amnesiacs without a place to go, and they didn't seem to have a real problem with working around the farm. Torchy seemed fairly good at a number of things around the house - not especially skilled but not incompetent either. Trippy seemed to be bad at nearly everything except when it came to directly taking care of the chocobo. The chocobo themselves seemed to have taken an instant liking to her.
Watching Trippy trip with a bucket of water (again) and Torchy begin yelling and berating Trippy (again) and the whole thing degenerate into name-calling and tongue-sticking-out and ear-pulling, Druul The Pious (so called because before (or during if there was no warning beforehand) every battle he'd always prayed) wondered once again if they were lovers or enemies. Or both, he wasn't exactly an expert on viera.
Well, at least Doc would get here tomorrow. He could try to unload one of them on Doc - have the hume take one of the two and see if someone knew more about that stuff that had been used on them.
Watching Torchy chasing Trippy around the paddock, Druul wondered which one to try and get rid of. Getting rid of Trippy would mean less breakable things getting broken, while getting rid of Torchy would mean less danger of a fire and a return to a quieter time.
Ah, well, time enough for that decision.
Aerith's turn came up. "Wild Stallion Stampede!"
Staggered from the other impacts, Sephiroth barely noticed the name of the attack - and then only to wonder why that sounded uncharacteristic before he was belted skyward in what seemed to be a tornado.
Then came the strikes. Some were punches, others kicks, with staff blows and other attacks mixed in with them.
As Sephiroth melted away on the breeze, Aerith's form seemed to flicker and fade away, leaving the youth he'd come to kill.
"You're still doing that," noted Tifa as she came forward.
Red XIII let out a hack and spit something up he'd apparently torn off of Sephiroth during his own attack. "Hmmm. Yes. You told me about that. Whenever he tries to do a summons, he actually manifests the summons as his own body."
Ranma shrugged. "Whatever. The gal I want ya to meet is over in my cabin."
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(Posted Mon, 15 Oct 2007 01:15)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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