07-22-2015, 05:07 PM
“Hold on there, friend!” The voice came from behind Wakka. “I don’t suppose you’d have the time to answer an old hunter’s questions?” It was a soft voice, soothing in its tone.
The blitzballer stopped in his tracks, and turned around enough to comfortably whip his head over his shoulder. His brow furrowed. The gentle voice belonged to a dark figure whose arms were veiled by long extensions of feathers, which strongly contrasted the white background. Claps echoed across the land as its round-tipped boots patted the ground. Wakka dipped head dead under his shoulder to where his eyes were level with the strings to his bag. The creature had the face of bird who rotted long ago, with eyes shrouded under the brim of a black hat.
At first glance, the creature looked like a humanoid version of Sin. If not for the gentle voice, Wakka might have taken it for fact.
He pulled his head back up and displayed a faint smile as he turned to face the creature. “Whadya need?” he asked.
Wakka pulled his bag by the strings and it climbed near the top of his back. The ball inside writhed, twining the strings together over his shoulder. He also pulled positive thoughts to the forefront of his mind. The individual before him was the only soul in sight, and with enough good thinking, maybe Wakka could convince himself the person’s intentions would match its voice more than its appearance.
The blitzballer stopped in his tracks, and turned around enough to comfortably whip his head over his shoulder. His brow furrowed. The gentle voice belonged to a dark figure whose arms were veiled by long extensions of feathers, which strongly contrasted the white background. Claps echoed across the land as its round-tipped boots patted the ground. Wakka dipped head dead under his shoulder to where his eyes were level with the strings to his bag. The creature had the face of bird who rotted long ago, with eyes shrouded under the brim of a black hat.
At first glance, the creature looked like a humanoid version of Sin. If not for the gentle voice, Wakka might have taken it for fact.
He pulled his head back up and displayed a faint smile as he turned to face the creature. “Whadya need?” he asked.
Wakka pulled his bag by the strings and it climbed near the top of his back. The ball inside writhed, twining the strings together over his shoulder. He also pulled positive thoughts to the forefront of his mind. The individual before him was the only soul in sight, and with enough good thinking, maybe Wakka could convince himself the person’s intentions would match its voice more than its appearance.