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“Obviously that is a trap,” Penelo says, shaking her head vehemently; the giant golden bust of an angry (and slightly constipated-looking) man sitting atop a stone pillar can be nothing but.
“No it isn’t,” Vaan says, “and so what if it is? Traps are fun.”
“I will kill you,” Penelo says, but she pulls her staff from her back and starts casting buffs in Vaan’s direction: Protect, Shell, Haste. “Or if you kill yourself, I will not bring you back, so be careful.”
“You will too,” Vaan says, starting the long braced climb up the pillar: Vaan climbs like, well, a slightly constipated-looking monkey – which is to say rather well despite his facial expressions; his balance is better than Penelo’s. “You can’t bring the ship into Balfonheim without me.”
“Oh my god,” Penelo says, appalled. “I will kill you. I can too, and you know it. I will kill you and leave your body for the ghouls.”
It has been two years since their great adventure ended; one year since Ashe became queen, and six months since Vaan has become increasingly reckless in an attempt to impress said queen (although he argues that it’s only to get gifts good enough to buy their way out of jail; Penelo, however, has her suspicions) – which means six months of increasing death threats in Vaan’s direction, because while Penelo certainly likes Ashe fine, she has no need to risk her own life to throw jewels at her lady’s feet. Especially when Ashe has plenty of jewels already, and they finally have their own ship, and Vaan is just an idiot with no sense of self-preservation or, you know, anything resembling common sense.
“You can leave,” he calls, twenty feet up the pillar.
“I might,” Penelo mutters, but she won’t and he knows it; they’re a good team and they’re both comfortable in what they have. Neither one is a heavy hitter but it turns out in sky pirating, being clever and quick is worth so much more than being able to wield dualhanded blades: their camaraderie and street smarts have saved them dozens of times, and between Penelo’s strategic magicks (and bow skills learnt from Fran) and Vaan’s powerful healing, they’re actually an effective hit-and-run team.
However, Penelo notes dourly, that doesn’t make them a great heavy-assault trap-defusing team. She predicts another demon wall. Mainly because it’s the worst thing that she can imagine at the moment.
Vaan at this point has scrambled to the top of the pillar and is hanging from something one-handed and peering at the golden bust. From Penelo’s angle, the face just looks irritable and frustrated, as if someone promised to do something valuable for it and then neglected to come through. “Vaan,” she says, aware that she sounds like a chiding mother, “be careful...”
“Hold on,” Vaan calls, his free hand extended towards the golden head. “There’s something on it.”
He stretches and then manages to pluck – something off of its head, something which he tosses down to Penelo. She nabs it out of the air delicately, simultaneously curious as to its identity and mad that Vaan would just throw her something unknown without checking it first. Then again, it’s Vaan; Penelo holds it up, turns it in the dim light of the cavern. It’s some kind of diadem: silver and crystal, delicately wrought in swirling arcs and joins. It reminds her of the solstice tree they put up in Rabanastre, covered in glittering things meant to resemble the ice a desert never sees.
“What is it?” Vaan calls, dangling from the wall.
Penelo glances up at him – and can’t finish her sentence, because the golden bust behind him is crawling out of the pillar – “Vaan!” she shrieks, and aims a sharp bolt from her staff upwards; the magic sizzles into its skin and that cranky carved face turns to look down at her. If it was irritated before, now it’s downright pissed. “Over here!” she yells at it, and waves the odd tiara in a taunt she just knows she will regret immediately.
But it works: the golden thing – it is grotesquely man-shaped but not -sized, longer and taller in the limbs than it should be, with elbows and wrists at angles that are just wrong – pulls an uncomfortably hideous set of long legs out of the pillar and begins to climb down, head-first, like the worst spider. “Ha,” Penelo laughs, hoping she sounds more confident and less terrified, even as she finishes the series of buffs she’d started before: Protect, Shell, Bravery, until her hands glow green with it, and she risks a glance towards Vaan. He has leapt to the top of the pillar like an absolute idiot and is readying his own magicks: she can see the darkness building around his hands, and she knows from experience Vaan likes to start out a long-distance battle with a good Scourge, and all she can do is hope that he remembers to aim this time. She sends another bolt from her staff towards the golden creature – paused halfway down the pillar to hiss; why is it that so many enemies take the time to bare their teeth? – and then as Vaan lets his Scourge loose she draws back to spit arcane at it: Darkga seems appropriate, somehow.
As both spells strike the thing hisses again, and then – Penelo sees its muscles tense, and she has a few seconds to thrust her arm through the circlet (so it hangs awkwardly from her elbow) and brace her staff in front of her the way Fran taught her before – the thing leaps, and the impact hurts; Penelo goes tumbling to the ground, but she works with the momentum and rolls it over and behind her, and hears the crackling crash of Vaan’s Blizzaga as she leaps to her feet again. She’s bruised, but nothing is bleeding and nothing is broken. That’s a good sign.
The golden statue rears up. Standing, it’s even more grotesque: it’s tall and unearthly slender, with long gangling arms and legs whose knees bend backwards, and the face that was angry is downright ferocious. It now looks like a heinous devil-monkey that’s going to eat them for dinner. “Cover me,” Penelo yells, and Vaan starts splashing Aero and Aeroga in a line in front of her like he usually does while she swaps weapons. She won’t be able to take this thing out in any kind of physical fight; the bow will be able to keep the creature at bay, and while most people are slower with arrows, Fran has taught her a thing or two about cheating speed.
“Penelo!” Vaan yells out, and she dashes away, nimble in her haste, and only catches the edges of the fiery breath as it gusts past her.
“Get down here,” she yells, turning on her toes and sending an arrow into the thing’s arm; luckily, it sinks into the golden flesh, and the creature shrieks. Its expression is full of rage, and it howls – a defiantly terrible sound – and stomps towards her, each step quaking the ground, leeching her strength. Penelo sends another arrow at it and then dodges away again, trying to stay light on her feet, and not ignoring how the thing reaches towards her arm as she runs past.
A flash of pale light comes barreling over her shoulder, and as the Shock spell lands itself in the creature’s shoulder – atop her arrow; Vaan’s magic has excellent aim, a fact he never stops mentioning in public – Vaan’s suddenly at her side, grinning crookedly, his katana in his hands as he says breathlessly, “Let’s do this.”
And from there it’s the same dance they always perform: Vaan’s speed enhanced by her buffs, dancing in and out with quick slashes, seeming small but eventually brutal, dodging two hits out of three; her arrows, aimed strategically at places in and around Vaan’s damage; both of them flashing Cura and Curaga when they need it. Occasionally Vaan likes to mix it up with his Black Magick – he has always favored the non-elemental spells – but that’s really just for show; their game is light and quick and constant, the kind of damage you don’t realize is too much until you’re dead of it, and they play it well.
This time is no different. The creature howls, and Penelo strengthens their Protectga right before its dying wail lashes out with fire and dark streaks – and explodes. She could do without the visual of those horrid wrong-stretched limbs coming apart, but she’s too relieved to complain too much.
“Ha!” Vaan crows, and he has to go kick the ashes, because it’s Vaan. He also roots for treasure, though, and comes up with a couple odd-looking jewels and a lump of gold she really hopes wasn’t the creature’s heart.
“Okay, okay,” Penelo says, and she shakes her arm to let the circlet spiral down from her shoulder until it hangs from her wrist; they both look at it for one long idle moment before she realizes her instincts are still tingling. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What is it?” Vaan reaches out to touch one of the crystals embedded in thin silver filigree. Penelo can’t really tell whether it’s actually shimmering or if it’s just her eyes, wanting to imbue this thing they fought for with unearthly powers. She’s probably just tired.
“We can look at it on the ship,” Penelo says, and hikes it back up about her shoulder. “No,” she says, dodging Vaan’s second grab at it. “We’re leaving. I was right about the trap thing – I often am, you might notice – and I’d like to get back to civilization tonight.”
“You just want to rub it in Balthier’s face,” Vaan says, but he sheathes his katana and gestures for her to lead the way. Gentlemanly of him – or it would be, if Penelo didn’t suspect he was simply admiring the view.
“You just want to dangle our treasure in front of the Queen,” Penelo retorts, but she’s smiling as she hangs the bow across her chest and grips her staff again. “Maybe I won’t give it up. I may want to wear it as a hairpiece. I may make you wear it as a hairpiece.”
Vaan elbows her, and Penelo grins and dodges most of it. And this is why this works, even if she hates every time she’s right about the trap thing: even if sometimes Vaan catches her in the edges of a spell, and sometimes she’s too slow on the draw of an arrow, and sometimes they bicker like they’re as old as Basch and married for a lifetime. They work, and they always have, and as much as she likes to give Vaan a hard time, she enjoys this life they’ve made.
Except when she has to sleep on their ship, because she has come to really appreciate pillows. “Hurry up,” she calls behind her, and she knows Vaan’s got her back as they climb back out of the cavern into the sun.