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Day Seventy-One.
Mog is waiting for them when they return to Daybreak Town.
“Ah, Eden!” He rushes over, his white robes dragging across the cobblestones, before stopping in front of them and holding up his paws. “Did the power bangle work all right? No problems?”
“Nah, none at all,” Eden grins, holding up his wrist, and the silver bangle on it. “Worked like a charm.”
Mog beams, but Eden catches something in the moogle’s expression, something he can’t quite put his finger on. His eyes narrow, just for a second.
“Great!” Mog says. “I’ll need it back now.”
“Huh?” Izana asks. “Why’s that?”
“It’s a prototype. I realised after you left that there were some problems I, er, hadn’t worked out yet,” Mog says, a little too quickly. “It’s not really fit for human use right now. Oh! But I didn’t come empty-handed. As a refund and an apology, you can have this rare Skill Card.”
He rummages in his robes, producing a Skill Card with a glittering, gilt illustration of some kind of brown, hoofed creature with antlers, with vines wound about him. The word ‘REGNANT’ is written across the bottom.
Eden peers at it for a moment, making a show of indecision. Then: “All right, deal.”
He tugs the bangle off his wrist and hands it over, taking the card in return and tucking it into the deck holder on his belt.
After that, it’s time to stop by the Union. The Moogle at the library counter is no nicer, but they’ve killed enough Heartless to earn a decent amount of gil, and as they leave the counter, Izana holds out another Skill Card.
“Your reward for the mission, as usual,” he says. “It’s not as rare as the one Mog gave you, but …”
It’s a card with an elaborate drawing of a red-haired boy with a bow-tie and furred, non-human ears where his normal, human ears should be. At the bottom is written ‘BALLOON.’ Eden turns it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.
“Balloon?”
“Don’t knock it, it’s from Master Gula himself,” Izana says. “I’m sure you’ll find some kind of use for it.”
“All right, then,” Eden murmurs, tucking the card into his deck. “See you guys at the dormitory, then.”
Queenie gives a quick nod. “See you then.”
---
When Mog returns to his shop, he takes a moment to switch the sign to ‘CLOSED’ and lock the door. He’s finishing up drawing the curtains when the black Chirithy materialises on the counter, purple smoke billowing up around him.
“I’ve done what you wanted,” Mog says, placing the bangle on the counter. “But I don’t understand what the point of this all was.”
“As I never explained to you what the purpose of the bangle was, that doesn’t surprise me,” the black Chirithy says, looping one paw loosely through the bangle.
“I made it, I know what it does,” Mog snaps. “It siphons off power during battle and stores it. The more difficult the battle, the more power is siphoned away. I just don’t get why you’d want to use it on one new keybearer near the bottom of the rankings, when I could’ve given it to Mateus, or any of the more experienced keybearers.”
The black Chirithy gives him a wry look. Or, at least, Mog thinks it’s wry. With the sewn-in buttons for eyes it has, it’s difficult to tell.
“It’s like the punchline to a bad joke,” it murmurs. Then, louder: “Anyway, I believe this concludes our arrangement. I’ll be relying on your services again in future, Mog.”
Then he’s gone, taking the bangle with him.
“Ah, Eden!” He rushes over, his white robes dragging across the cobblestones, before stopping in front of them and holding up his paws. “Did the power bangle work all right? No problems?”
“Nah, none at all,” Eden grins, holding up his wrist, and the silver bangle on it. “Worked like a charm.”
Mog beams, but Eden catches something in the moogle’s expression, something he can’t quite put his finger on. His eyes narrow, just for a second.
“Great!” Mog says. “I’ll need it back now.”
“Huh?” Izana asks. “Why’s that?”
“It’s a prototype. I realised after you left that there were some problems I, er, hadn’t worked out yet,” Mog says, a little too quickly. “It’s not really fit for human use right now. Oh! But I didn’t come empty-handed. As a refund and an apology, you can have this rare Skill Card.”
He rummages in his robes, producing a Skill Card with a glittering, gilt illustration of some kind of brown, hoofed creature with antlers, with vines wound about him. The word ‘REGNANT’ is written across the bottom.
Eden peers at it for a moment, making a show of indecision. Then: “All right, deal.”
He tugs the bangle off his wrist and hands it over, taking the card in return and tucking it into the deck holder on his belt.
After that, it’s time to stop by the Union. The Moogle at the library counter is no nicer, but they’ve killed enough Heartless to earn a decent amount of gil, and as they leave the counter, Izana holds out another Skill Card.
“Your reward for the mission, as usual,” he says. “It’s not as rare as the one Mog gave you, but …”
It’s a card with an elaborate drawing of a red-haired boy with a bow-tie and furred, non-human ears where his normal, human ears should be. At the bottom is written ‘BALLOON.’ Eden turns it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.
“Balloon?”
“Don’t knock it, it’s from Master Gula himself,” Izana says. “I’m sure you’ll find some kind of use for it.”
“All right, then,” Eden murmurs, tucking the card into his deck. “See you guys at the dormitory, then.”
Queenie gives a quick nod. “See you then.”
When Mog returns to his shop, he takes a moment to switch the sign to ‘CLOSED’ and lock the door. He’s finishing up drawing the curtains when the black Chirithy materialises on the counter, purple smoke billowing up around him.
“I’ve done what you wanted,” Mog says, placing the bangle on the counter. “But I don’t understand what the point of this all was.”
“As I never explained to you what the purpose of the bangle was, that doesn’t surprise me,” the black Chirithy says, looping one paw loosely through the bangle.
“I made it, I know what it does,” Mog snaps. “It siphons off power during battle and stores it. The more difficult the battle, the more power is siphoned away. I just don’t get why you’d want to use it on one new keybearer near the bottom of the rankings, when I could’ve given it to Mateus, or any of the more experienced keybearers.”
The black Chirithy gives him a wry look. Or, at least, Mog thinks it’s wry. With the sewn-in buttons for eyes it has, it’s difficult to tell.
“It’s like the punchline to a bad joke,” it murmurs. Then, louder: “Anyway, I believe this concludes our arrangement. I’ll be relying on your services again in future, Mog.”
Then he’s gone, taking the bangle with him.