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[shatterhearted.livejournal.com]

Characters: Balthier & Fran
Progress: Complete
Summary: Dragon Attack
Location: The Strahl and then Burmecia
Date: May 1st
Warnings: Blood and stuff



Fran had been suffering from insomnia for awhile now, though it was a fact she preferred to keep to herself. So while Balthier was sleeping soundly, she was piloting the Strahl.

The skies had been reasonably clear, at least until a short while ago. At first she had thought them to simply be storm clouds, but closer inspection had confirmed that they were dragons - uncountable numbers of them, filling the sky. And the Strahl would soon be surrounded.

She quickly moved to Balthier's room, not even bothering to knock. She grabbed his shirt and threw it at his head. "We have problems." With that the Strahl shook as one of the dragons crashed against the side of it.

He wasn't sure what had hit him until he opened his eyes to his shirt. Grunting irritably at being woken in such a manner, Balthier sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "Problems such as being woken rudely, Fran?" He didn't appreciate it one bit.

Then the Strahl shook, just as he was pulling his shirt on, and Balthier raised an eyebrow. "Company, I see. What variety?" he asked as he stepped out of bed and slid on his leather pants, ruffling his hair and walking barefoot through the airship, glancing out of the first glass pane he could and sighing at the sight.

Dragons, which were apparently swarming. Sliding into his seat, Balthier dragged a hand down his tired face. "I am not awake enough to dance with the devil...

"There is little time for formal awakenings." Fran turned on her heel, making her her way back towards the cockpit. The Strahl shook again, almost knocking her off-balance. "Silver dragons. Too many to count. It would appear they are far from hospitable."

She took her seat beside Balthier. "I doubt even the Strahl is swift enough to outfly them, especially though such a thick swarm. If flight is not an option, it only leaves fight..."

"We'd get as far as they'd allow us, really," he responded, his hands already working the controls of his airship, hazel eyes scanning the sky for gaps between the dragons and where he would be able to slip out between them. This was crazy. Where were they even coming from? He wasn't able to tell between the flapping wings.

Quirking an eyebrow at her suggestion of fighting, he wondered if it was time to finally make use of the weaponry the ex-prototype-battleship was equipped with. He'd avoided using them all through the years, and even during the war between the Empire and the Resistance, but maybe it was time.

"Collect your purchased explosives. I believe it is time I finally bite that unpleasant bullet and use the weaponry she has equipped," he murmured, a smirk covering his discomfort at the idea of using his ship for war, even against monsters.

The corner of Fran's mouth quirked. While she didn't really enjoy the thought of war, the thought of doing something exciting, however dangerous, was appealing, especially since their lives had lacked that pirating adventure she so adored.

She gave a nod and got to her feet, exiting the cockpit, and wound her way along the corridors of the Strahl to the storage room where she had stored the explosives since purchase. "Do try not to get us killed, hm?" After all, that weaponry was most likely experimental - untested too for that matter.

"Fran, would I? Honestly," he joked, smirking at her as he started charging the weapons, swinging the Strahl in through any gap he could trying to just navigate the way through the storm of monsters, unsure of where exactly he was heading. It was definitely going to be difficult.

The moment the weapons were charged, Balthier's thumb hovered over the button to start firing. "Let's see what you can do, old girl," he murmured to the airship, pressing his finger down firmly, keeping the weapons firing as he swung the ship around, taking aim at the beasts attacking his airship.

Many questions raced through Fran's mind - what were these silver dragons? Where had they come from? How many where there? But now wasn't the time for answers. She gathered up the explosives, her bow, arrows, engine oil and matches and made her way towards the exit onto the wing, after all explosives were all well and good, but they weren't much use from inside.

She kicked off her shoes to enable to keep her grip easier, climbing out onto the left wing. She could barely see the sky for the dragons - dragons with razor sharp claws, she noted as one swooped close to her head, only to be met with one of her arrows.

Flicking on the intercom, glad he'd taken the time to wire it into the main console, Balthier kept it open to have contact with his partner if she needed him. "Fran, take it steady. I've no idea what these weapons may do. After all, it was the old fool who made them," he called to her, shooting down several dragons, honestly not caring right now whether they landed on cities.

Trying to keep the Strahl steady, Balthier leaned over to the navigation system while one hand continued shooting down the beasts. Piloting alone was difficult when there was a storm of dragons, apparently. Setting course for Burmecia, if only because it was the nearest place, he wondered the risks of daring to let the airship drift and join Fran in battle, deciding against it for now.

"That 'old fool' and his 'toys' may well be the one thing that keeps us from becoming a dragon feast, and the Strahl from becoming a mere tin can." Fran had fast learned that trying to remain upright while in the middle of a dragon storm atop an airship with dangerous weapons was difficult. If it wasn't the fear of being clawed, it was the fear of being thrown off. But she held her ground.

She took one of the explosives, hoping that it would be as powerful as she had been led to believe. She followed the instructions she had been given and launched it out into a group of the dragons, watching as it exploded, drawing loud screeches from the beasts.

"Let's not go singing his praises until we are safely within Burmecia, shall we?" His tone was light, but Balthier wanted to be sure they were out of the proverbial woods before they sang the praises of his crazy old man.

The explosion almost startled him, if only because he hadn't expected it so soon but, once he realised what it was, Balthier expected more to come and instead continued to shoot down as many dragons as he could during the flight, aiming for weak points like the head or underbelly of the silver beasts. This was such an insane thing to face. Was this normal for Gaia?

Damn dragons! There were just too many of them. Despite many falling, Fran couldn't even see a gap. It was like a never-ending wall of silver. The Viera let out a pained growl as her ear was caught by one of those claws.

It was bad enough that their roars were painful on her ears, but to draw blood from her? Now that just made her angry and the dragon was rewarded by another explosive for its trouble.

Managing to find a gap that he could use, though it was a risky move, Balthier dove for it. "Fran, inside. I shan't have you out there for what I have planned," he called through the intercom, pausing his assault on the dragons to let the weapons recharge.

He wasn't sure he liked having to use the Strahl like this but at least he wasn't attacking unnecessarily. In fact, it was difficult to not attack with them bouncing off the side of the airship. Once his partner was inside, Balthier swung the airship down in a nosedive, charging for the ocean beneath them, followed by a stream of dragons.

Pulling up just before the tip of the Strahl hit water, Balthier smirked as the collection of dragons that had been on his tail plunged into the ocean, the impact of hitting water at that speed killing them.

The break and returning inside allowed Fran a chance to try and stop the bleeding from her ear. Although the wound was not life-threatening, the amount of blood made it look a lot worse than it really was. She cast a Cure spell over herself - she missed her powerful magicks from Ivalice, here in Gaia her magicks were very limited and very draining.

"Impressive moves, Pirate. But do not breathe easy yet." In other words - there's still a lot of dragons flying about.

"I hadn't planned to," he replied with a roll of his eyes, the beeping of the weapons being fully charged almost a pleasant noise to his ears. Hitting the button, Balthier started to shoot down the beasts again, though his stunt had bought them at least a little time to escape more.

There was no way this was stopping, and for what he could tell, it was happening everywhere. What exactly was happening made no sense to him, but if this was what they were facing, he wasn't going to just give up and let the Strahl be destroyed and them along with it. Burmecia wasn't far off and they could likely cloak the airship and make a run for indoors.

Fran gave a nod. "I return to the wing." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. While she respected Balthier as both her partner and captain, there were times when orders were less than important.

Once she had returned to the wing, she took her place once more, dousing her arrows in the engine oil, lighting them in turn before firing them at the dragons. The stench of burning dragon scales was far from pleasant, but it was better than the wreckage of metal and burning pirates.

It took a short while longer to reach Burmecia, by which time he'd had to charge the weapons three more times and the onslaught of dragons hadn't even slowed. They were coming in their thousands and they were painfully outnumbered. One airship was not going to make much of a dent in their numbers.

Bringing the Strahl down towards the city of rain, Balthier called Fran back inside, expecting horrible injuries, and cloaking the ship once she was aboard. Bringing the airship cautiously through the storm of monsters, he was careful not to hit any, though it took a lot of work, and soon the airship rested on the ground just outside of Burmecia.

Dragons were all over, but Balthier took the moment of them being cloaked and relatively safe to still his nerves with a deep breath, resting back in his seat.

Fran returned from the wing, and set her weapons down, slipping her shoes back on. She had a good number of scratches, all of which were bleeding, but at least all her limbs were intact. She joined Balthier in the cockpit, sitting down in her seat to regain her composure.

"They began to use a wind assault as well as their claws. There are simply too many of them." She took a deep breath, running clawed fingers through blood-stained hair.

"Are you injured badly?" Scratches were nothing. They could always be fixed, and they were nothing but superficial surface wounds. Anything worse would require him having to bandage her before they made a break for the nearest safe building.

He was out of his seat, heading for his room to get his boots and gloves on, and to retrieve his gun and the belts he wore to hold the pouches he stored his ammo in. "We shall find refuge within the city, and wait out the winged storm."

"I am fine." She gave him a reassuring smile; she would heal in time, there was no need to worry. The deeper cuts she could treat herself. At Balthier's plan she gave a nod and went to refill her quiver with new arrows, before placing it and her bow across her back.

She picked up the last of the explosives - it would make an excellent distraction, it would buy them a few seconds at least. "You are ready?"

Pushing his sleeves up, cocking his gun and giving her a smirk, Balthier headed out first. "Let's see if we can't tip the scales our way, shall we?" He knew that if they lingered, it would be suicide, but Balthier wasn't in the habit of getting himself killed, regardless of heroics.

He had chanced it on the Bahamut-- he wasn't planning on getting himself killed in some gods-forsaken dragon apocaplypse on a world entirely not his own. "And please, no deaths today, Fran. I shan't be scraping you off the cobblestones," he joked, smiling lightly. Humour would always lighten these sorts of situations for them.
"No promises, I'm afraid. We cannot all play the leading role." Fran followed Balthier off of the Strahl. As expected it was raining. But the air was heavier than before, and Fran doubted it was simply due the dragons crowding the sky. As thunder roared out, followed by a flash of lightening she found she had her answer.

She prepared the explosive, throwing it as far as she could in the opposite direction of the city, giving Balthier a smile as it exploded. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Glad she'd used the bomb, Balthier sneakily stole a quick kiss before darting off in the direction of the city, a rather childish and triumphant smirk on his face as he ran down the cobbled streets, heading for any building he thought would be safe enough.

Dragons were in the city, though more were outside it and Balthier shot at those that tried to attack, never allowing himself or Fran to be attacked any further. There was nothing they could do in ways of contacting friends to ensure their safety until they had their own safety ensured.

Ever the child. Fran shook her head and ran after Balthier, an arrow resting on her bowstring ready to fire at any second. The rain was already soaking her, washing blood from her skin and hair, leaving a slight pink tint behind.

As they neared the buildings, Fran released the arrow, firing it into a dragon approaching them from behind. Sensitive hearing had it's uses at times.

Shooting for the eyes, Balthier was determined to get them in, though as he lept out of the way of one attack, the pirate was caught by the jaws of another dragon, a bite into his side as he shot the dragon through the skull, unable to stifle his noise of pain.

Freed, he glanced at the wound. "Well, that might just leave a scar." Refusing to give up, however, Balthier turned a corner, seeing a building they could use. An abandoned house they could probably use as a safehouse in all this mess.

That looked nasty, but there was no time to stop to treat it now, they had to get to shelter first. Fran struck another dragon with an arrow. "Make for the building, I shall watch your back."

Yes, that was an order from the Viera. She loaded two arrows onto her bow string, firing them at two dragons closing in on them. She turned so that she was walking backwards, giving her a much clearer view of the approaching fiends.

Reaching the building, Balthier holstered his gun and gripped the doorframe as he kicked at the door. It took three hard kicks to break the lock but once the door swung open, he was inside and had his gun drawn to give fran backup as she made for the building.

"Quickly, Fran." The instant his partner was inside, Balthier slammed the door and held it with his back against it. "We need to barricade the door. We should be safe for a short while." Until the dragons broke inside and they had to escape a building.

Fran tried to catch her breath as she entered the building. But seconds later she started to push a plate dresser in front of the door, not caring too much for the objects falling off of it and smashing.

Door barricaded? Check. Now, onto the next most important task. "Shirt off."

"Fran, this is no time for your animalistic needs," he teased, smirking lightly though he unbuttoned his shirt and drew it away from the wound he sported. It was deep, and he was only now aware of the fact he was lightheaded from loss of blood. Both front and back had sickening teeth marks and Balthier's vision blurred for a brief moment.

Shaking his head to clear the fuzziness, Balthier seated himself on a table, his face paled. "Hn, it's rather deep, isn't it?" And it wasn't going to stop bleeding. It would take very strong magicks to heal it entirely. Something neither of them had.

"You should know by now the scent of blood does such wicked things to me." Joking aside, Balthier looked ill. Very ill. Fran rested her palm lightly over the wound, casting a Cure spell. She knew it wouldn't fix the wound, but it would at least ease the pain and hopefully slow the bleeding.

She scrunched up her nose, a frown forming on her lips before she moved away from him to search the building for anything they could use as bandages - if there was nothing to be found she would have to use his shirt and that wouldn't go down well. Luckily she managed to find a clean bedsheet - save for a little dust. She quickly shook it out and proceeded to shred it into strips with her claws before returning to Balthier.

Letting her cast her magicks, Balthier remained where he was, watching her leave the room and staying seated on the table. The wound was very deep and Balthier felt dreadfully sick. He was used to surface wounds, but being bitten so deeply had him feeling nauseas and dizzy.

As blood poured from his wound, painting his side crimson, Balthier didn't even realise his eyes were closed as he lost consciousness, lucky that he fell backwards across the table rather than forward and onto the floor.

Fran was quickly back at Balthier's side, growling under her breath and her own incompetence letting him get attacked in the first place. She worked the makeshift bandages around him swiftly, pulling them tight, followed by another Cure spell. "Balthier, don't you dare abandon me. What kind of Leading Man deserts his damsel in distress?"

It was hard not to let her panic show, both in her voice and in the tremble of her hands. She cast another Cure spell, hoping - no, praying, that it would do some good.

By that final Cure spell, Balthier was breathing more steadily and managed to force his eyes open. He hadn't realised how quickly he'd lost so much blood, though the adrenaline had likely worn off quickly. Unsteady, he pushed himself to sit up, though he instantly hooked an arm around her shoulders. "I need to lie down."

In fact, he needed to sleep, but he didn't want to risk leaving her to fight alone and protect him if they were ambushed indoors. Grabbing his gun, flicking the safety on it, Balthier used his arm around her to pull himself up, hoping he didn't have to ask her to get him somewhere safe to lie down, expecting she'd probably just aid him anyway.

Fran curled her own arm around his back, supporting the majority of his weight on her shoulders. At least with him being somewhat conscious he wasn't a deadweight, which would make the task of moving him easier.

But now Fran was torn - did she stay by his side and watch over him, or did she watch the entrance? She aided Balthier to the bed and helped him to lie down. Luckily there was a window that she could keep watch from. Two birds. One stone.

Resting on the bed, he smirked lazily at her. "I hope you don't expect this to be some depressing curtain call, my dear. I've no intentions of taking my final bow just yet," he murmured, shifting himself to get comfortable. The wound hurt but maybe he could stay awake a while longer.

He was exhausted from the wound, every move feeling a little more difficult than it should have, and slower than it probably was normally. Closing his eyes for what felt like only a moment, Balthier was soon asleep, his body needing the rest after losing so much blood.

Fran had simply smiled at his comment, fearing her voice might betray her. Of course, a death by blood loss in a warren-like home in the rain was hardly a grand and fitting end for a Leading Man.

She took Balthier's gun and her bow and seated herself by the window. It gave her a good view of Balthier and of outside, and her hearing would detect if anything broke through the barricaded door.