Contents
ACT 3, What’s the Hurry Little Lady?
Chapter 6, There’s a Good Lass
Chapter 7, Stuck in a Rut
Chapter 8, Roar! Geeky Rebel
ACT 3
The sea of floaters and seers were blurred figures underneath the dulled light of the street lamps. Behold Traverse Town—finely polished shiftlessness swathed in everlasting nightfall. The architecture of the drowsy district ascertained nothing less than the dexterity of an erstwhile carpenter.
Left of the World Gate, there stood a humble café which hid a set of candle-lit tables beneath its coddling veranda. The square lightly featured a modest attire of foliage, several dimly lit alleyways, and an awkward mailbox. A Goods and Item Shop sat outside of an alley entry, and the Accessory Shop sat beside it; the second story of the Accessory Shop served as a
Moogle Synth Item Workshop. An entry to District Three was closed off by tape and bombarded with notices of Heartless sightings.
As the town’s hub, the First District served several sites of adequacy, and because of the Inter-World Travel System, the square’s activity has rapidly grown; as printed in
Magic Kupo, the Grand Ambassador acknowledged Traverse Town as a site of historic importance as well as an indomitable stronghold for those made to start anew by the Darkness.
Kupo Writer, Artemis wrote:
[…] Writing from the perspective of a moogle who helped hold down the fort in Traverse Town, kupo, I couldn’t help but to go, “Squee!—” along with every other backpacking, hope-driven person when our Grand Ambassador acknowledged our efforts. The transit system allowed refugees to go gain a fresh start. Hopefully, the recent flux of activity won’t drive the Traverse Town natives out. Traverse Town, for the win, kupo!
Much to the chagrin of Traverse Town’s previously lazy working class, the transit system brought an endless supply of clients. The site that received the most punishment as of late was the Goods Shop; there was a sale on crafted items and traveling wares, and leftover Silly Wigs were being given away to youngsters.
Amongst the flow, the Grand Ambassador shuffled towards the Goods and Item Shop. A face mostly recognized from television or newspaper, many had claimed to be diehard fans of his old-fashioned demeanor and occasional word of wisdom; an overwhelming majority simply admired his munny—he was considered one the richest men in the galaxy.
He was an older fellow, although he would attest to being “as spry as any spring duckling”; a black top hat dressed his slick white feathers, as well as a blue short-tail jacket with red hems. Over his bill lay a small pair of glasses, and around it, a cluster of graying feathers. Diamond cufflinks from glistened regally from each wrist as he confidently flaunted his sleek, ebony cane.
The Grand Ambassador sighed, finally reaching the modest entry. The door flung open, and out dashed a young woman buried by a green brimful sack.
“Da!” jumped the startled ambassador jumped.
“Da!” she mirrored his startle, and stumbled to an abrupt stop.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the old duck chuckled, holding the bag in front of her steady; he sighed in relief, “Heh heh…What’s the hurry little lady? You nearly put this ol’ duck outta his miseries.”
Abashed, she giggled; “So sorry, Grand Ambassador McDuck,” she apologized with the tiniest bow, struggling to tote her sack. Even with the lumpy sack hoisted against her chest and chin, the young woman maintained a tall and pleasant stance. Her poise was well complemented by a healthy build and her flushing skin tone. Her clothing was cozy—a snug white dress and a forest green glove on her left hand.
“Hm,” addressed Grand Ambassador McDuck, “I didn’t know you fancied archery?”
“Oh!” The woman smiled anxiously, referring to the bow and quiver strapped behind her; “Gii-san
1 used to make me practice all the time. I bought these today, and these—” she flaunted smooth, tan boots, “
Enchanted Boots–they’re supposed to make you more agile—”
She flushed and apologized once more, “So sorry again, Ambassador McDuck. It’s just been so busy.”
“Heh—your fifth day here an’ you’re already catching the case of the
Traverse Town funk,” Scrooge chortled heartily, “Hehe. No harm done…Just plum scared me outta my feathers, that’s all. No need for apologizing every four seconds.”
“I’m sorry Ambass…I mean, okay Ambassador Mc—”
“An’ please, y’met me last week; don’t vote against ditching the formalities….”
Sebrea sighed wearily and allowed a congenial smile, “Yes, Mr. Scrooge.”
“Now that’s more like it!” Scrooge jeered playfully; he casually prodded, “So…I imagine with all the hubbub of the transit system, you’ve been mulling over an escape plan tomorrow on your day off.”
Sebrea chuckled warmly.
“Wherever you’re high-tailing it to,” Scrooge exclaimed playfully, “take me with ya. This place is a madhouse!”
Both laughed lightly in unison while Scrooge shrugged and admitted, “Unfortunately, I can’t leave. If I don’t go around appreciating the value of a hard-earned dime, who will? What can I say? I enjoy watchin’ people make munny for me. Imagine that…”
“Well actually, Mr. Scrooge,” Sebrea replied, “I was just going to sit under the veranda,” nodding towards the café, “for a while. Were you about to check with Mr. Bentuk?”
“More or less,” Scrooge released with a remedial groan, “but what I’m
really here for is one of those nifty Silly Wigs.”
“Oh!” Sebrea stressed, “Well, I won’t hold you any longer! They’re selling like nobody’s business! Only five munny! Free for kids.”
Sebrea’s excessive concern saw an airy chuckle from the restless duck, “Heh—you’re too much,” he complimented; “you’re not holding me back one bit; why, allowing old crow like me ta simmer down some may be just what the doctor ordered.”
“And besides Ms. Sebrea,” a light voice escaped from the Scrooge’s jacket collar, along with a tiny chartreuse figure. The pocket accomplice claimed the duck ambassador’s shoulder.
Dusting his coattails and miniature top hat thoroughly, he continued his protest, “we’re kind of on the lookout for Scrooge’s
absent-minded nephew;” he digressed, “seriously! Disappearing at the last second…What’s gotten into that duck? At this rate, we’ll be late for sure…”
“Oh you mean little Donald?” Sebrea mentioned, “He came in early for a Silly Wig,” and giggled when recalling, “He got upset when Rose said that he was too old to get one for free. You may want to try for him in the second district, Ambassador Crick—.”
“Dhatt!—” the little ambassador shook a teasing finger at the young woman, “What did Scrooge just say about formalities—
Jiminy Cricket’s as good as gold for me. No more “Ambassador Cricket”.”
“Okay, okay…
Sheesh.” Sebrea sighed in humor; “
Jiminy; Mr. Scrooge. Got it;” she tersely bobbed her head in departure, “Good luck finding little Donald.”
“Off with ya, lass!—” Scrooge shooed, “Enjoy your day off.”
“And remember—” Jiminy added, “Relaxation is the best medicine! All work and no play make for long faces and dreary eyes!”
Sebrea smiled warmly and parted for
Geppetto’s Java, leaving the two gentlemen chatted amongst themselves at the Goods Shop door.
“Now there’s a good lass;” Scrooge commented to his companion as they trailed into the Item Shop, “so well-mannered.”
“Mm hmm,” Jiminy seconded; “Not to mention her good posture. Y’know, your nephew could learn a lot from someone like her—” the door shut behind the two.
1 Gii-san is Japanese. This roughly refers to an older person, usually respectfully. In this instance, Sebrea is referring to her grandfather. For future reference, Sebrea tends to converse using such references in her speech.
ACT 3
Sebrea dreamily absorbed the warmly lit mood underneath the chipping veranda—the casual chitchat amongst the romantic mode. Sebrea considered her usual walk from the Goods Shop to Geppetto’s Java as her ten-minute break from reality. She had been in Traverse Town for five days, and each day thus far had consisted only of work and sleep. She found it fortunate that the owner of the café closed the shop for the day on important business.
She thought to herself as she drowsily waltzed beneath the cozy roof,
…Maybe…if I fake sick, I’ll be able to have an extra day off…No…that would upset Offic—Mr. Lucky; he says that I’m the bartender that he can tolerate most…Huuu…Yep, if I don’t show up, I’d fear that Mr. Lucky would chase off little Pinnochio again—
‘Oof!’
Sebrea fell fast on her behind, and an explosion of color splattered from her bag. Reds, yellows, and greens—her pink toothbrush, and her seashells, and shimmering rocks and shards—all adorned the Traverse Town brick. She cringed as she sat up; the newborn pain shot up her spine to disagree with her already-aching back and bones. Discouraged, she gazed around groggily. Passersby paused to stare at her and her shortcoming.
“Sh*t!—” The girl on the ground in front of Sebrea hissed, rubbing her fingers through her short, snowy bangs, “Big *ss
f*ckin’ bag!”
They pulled themselves up from the brick ground. Sebrea glanced over at the emptied bag, then to the girl’s flushing forehead, and submitted to the swelling in her chest.
“Are you ok—” she reached towards the girl.
The young lady with snow-blue hair tersely shoved her away, and writhed, “
Watch it, floozy!”
The bystanders staggered once again to witness the belittling; Sebrea flushed with solemnity, and shivered from frustration. She peered into the girl’s face with grim silence as her response, and kneeled to refill her sack.
Heh…moxie, the khaki-wearing girl noted Sebrea; she smirked at the thought of goosebumps underneath her coat sleeves.
“So…” the young girl addressed with a mild tone, kneeling done to retrieve one of Sebrea’s
Archery Monthly, “How old are you?”
Hesitantly, Sebrea replied with her toothbrush in hand, “Nineteen. My birthday was two weeks ago. What about you, little girl?”
“
Little…” the girl in the blue coat scoffed and chuckled Sebrea off, “Ha.—L-O-L
1 at this B-I-itch—” before answering half-earnestly, “I’m
seventeen. Hardly
liitle…”
“Oh…”
Both ladies faced one another reluctantly, the surplus of trinkets and items returned to there rightful place.
Sebrea mustered a half-smile and curtly bowed in gratitude, “Sorry—and thank you;” her voice trebled from disorientation, “Today was very busy…I should have paid—”
“Whatever lady—” The girl snapped, and then sighed in slight regret, “It’s—no biggie. Everything’s all “N-P” and sh*t…”
“
N-P?” Sebrea’s brow narrowed.
“…
“No problem”…” The girl responded with slight awe, as if her explanation was a given.
“Oh!” Sebrea chuckled and released a small smile, “Instant Messenger. I’ve never actually
met anyone who speaks chat speak
outside of chat rooms.”
The lady with snow blue hair smirked and emphasized, “That’s cuz you’re a
noob;” she gave Sebrea a shrewd glance from head to toe and discharged a slight scoffing chortle.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Uhh…”
“Okay…it’s not
that chilly here, but still. That’s some pretty skimpy cosplay
2, missy. You s’pose to be some
fairy child?”
Sebrea struggled to find a response, all the while her assailer continued to chide, “I mean, I’d think twice before showing off
my knobby knees.”
The snow-haired brat snickered jeeringly and coolly skipped away.
Sebrea stood blushing, looking down at her exposed legs.
“Knobby?” She shrugged it off, and skulked over to the nearest vacant table. Sebrea plopped into the half-wobbly chair, and threw her sack down beside her. She relinquished the sigh which she had imprisoned for most of the day, and deeply admired the slowly melting candle that made the tabletop glow.
Hmm, she thought,
it’s 4:30 now…I think I’ll call it a night around eight…I wonder what movies are playing in District Four…?
She stared longingly into the wick’s winding tendril, and asked herself,
Why am I still her? I wish someone would help me…No…I must…I must do this on my own. Everyone else is worried about the next day of work, or how many pictures they can take of a silly mailbox, or bumming munny off Mr. Scrooge…Good job, good co-workers, good bargains…
Sebrea slowly shut her eyes,
I miss Garage Island…I miss Gii-san…
She succumbed to the slumber of the perennial night.
1 ‘LOL’, perhaps the most recognizable chat term, refers to ‘laugh out loud’. This is an ‘obvious’. Forgive me.
2 Cosplay is a portmanteau of “costume” and “play” as is popular among the comic book, video game, and anime culture.
ACT 3
Gabrianna skipped while wearing a loose simper, fondling the wad of paper bills in her coat pocket.
Honey was definitely loaded, she thought comfortably,
I thought I was well off finding that pork-ass on the bus, but ‘Fairy Girl’ over there was packin’ a pretty ‘leet 1 wallet if I do say so…one would wonder why she walks around half-naked, and let loose a small, envious scowl,
with those big, clueless eyes, and that little plastic flower in her hair. Ugh! Prob’ly saving up to buy cosmetics or something…floozy…
Gabs skipped into a near barren room. Despite the slowly churning ceiling fan, the warmth of the previous comers and goers lingered about the dry shop lobby. Not much comprised the room—an outdated cash register atop the stalwart counter, the diverse array of merchandise on display via conservative shelves and splintery cupboards, and a second register behind the counter.
There were not many people at all within the stale foyer—two cashiers, a gruff greybeard and a perky pig-tailed blonde, manned the counter while a scrawny, suspendered young man with a large nose sat in a rocking chair beside the merchandise, nodding off into a hardback copy of
Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A slightly portly gentleman reluctantly patted the back of a mopping duck in a failing attempt at consolation. A sole customer stood wait at the counter, waited on by the pig-tailed blonde.
Gabrianna jutted vibrantly towards the gruff grey man at the counter; a variety of bruises and scars adorned his tanned skin, and his coarse tresses were uneven and mangled, as if ripped at by some fervent beast. Gabrianna’s met him with a cheek-stretching grin to which the cashier’s rough face responded with no definition, barring defined, high-raised cheekbones, and life-carved scrapes.
“Bentuk,” Gabs greeted, “my illegible chummy-chum! What’s good with you,
dooogg?!”
The brash Bentuk eyed Gabrianna with sharp pupils.
Gabrianna prattled on, “Well, damn dude; I’d thought you would have had more dead-asses in here for the sale.”
“It’s called the top-o-the-hour drought,” Rose intercepted while seeing her customer off; she proceeding to satirize, “I figured you’d know that by now from other stores you go to and steal from.”
Gabs lost her grin, facing Rose with a blank face and a raised brow. “Cute…like your pig-tails,” Gabrianna smirked facetiously to which Rose scoffed. Gabs turned back to the hardened manager with a hard grin.
“You ain’t nothin’ but troublin’…” Bentuk growled.
Gabrianna’s sappy expression dropped instantaneously, replaced by agape, jaw-dropped stupor. She then acquired a smart-aleck smirk, and a cocked eyebrow, and attested with swagger, “I’m only as much ‘troublin’’ as people blame me for, Gramps.”
Gabs plopped both elbows onto the counter, and leaned in wait in front of the adamant cashier. Bentuk dug a hole into Gabrianna’s face with his eyes. She stared through him in wait for what she deemed the obvious. Silence ensued.
Gabrianna’s brows narrowed and her trademark scowl revisited as she pushed her way into Bentuk’s face and blurted, “So what, you gonna
eye-f*ck me all day, Bentuk?!”
“Oh, he
knows why you’re here,” Rose interjected sternly, “Yeah—Bentuk has told you time and time again that you couldn’t make orders here because you were too young. So, you had some pathetic, twenty-four-year-old perv-guy come in here and make an order in your name because you were too young—”
“Yeah…” Gabs addressed in an unimpressed tone, “and now I’m
seventeen, like a couple of weeks ago; old enough to make and pick up orders here at the "
Goody-Good Shop”."
“The order was finished since uh, like
a couple of months ago; unless noticed by the client, Bentuk usually
gets rid of pick-ups that aren’t picked up within three weeks after we inform the client that his or her order is ready, ‘kay? Be happy that your order’s still
available for pick-up.”
Gabs shrugged, “I didn’t have the munny then.”
Rose questioned skeptically, “Oh, you have it now then?”
“Correct; I have it now,” Gabs simpered anxiously, “give the dog a bone.”
Rose scoffed and nipped, “Oh, so now, I can at least know that right now, somewhere, someone’s reaching into their pockets and finding
nothing there.”
Gabrianna expelled a cross chortle, smiled curtly, and replied softly, “f*ck you, c*nt b*tch.”
Rose’s brows rose in anger, and out of shock, she repeated, “F*ck
me, c*nt b*tch?!”
The duck in the corner and his accomplices turned to behold.
“Alright!
Alright!” Bentuk intervened, disgusted, “Cease that shit ‘ere and now!”
Rose scoffed at her manager’s demand.
“Dirt-faced whore,” she hissed as she passed Bentuk and Gabrianna, and proceeded to storm out.
My comeback was better, Gabs thought as she smiled, goading, and snickered.
Bentuk screamed behind him, “
Scottah!!”
The scrawny young man fidgeted out of his book.
Bentuk bellowed, “Order THREE HUND’D THIRDY-SIX!”
“Three, thirty…” Scotty mouthed, “How long ago was that ordered…?”
“NOW!”
After noticing Gabrianna, Scotty snorted and retrieved a lengthy item from the floor; the item was taller than its customer. Ivory cloth wrapped around its wide end, and draped most of the item but for the end of a tan pole.
“I wonder what’s eating her…” Jiminy chirped, almost carelessly, and was heard.
Gabrianna faced the chartreuse ambassador with a horrific glance, and her cryptic address jutted tersely from her tongue, “What—the—
f*ck, does a half-inch
cricket hope to gain from being a
nosey,
whiny-*ss—”
Bentuk grunted, almost throwing the item to the mouthy girl, as if to dismiss her all at once.
“Oh, my…” Jiminy exhaled, shivering.
“Happy?—” Bentuk’s query excreted from an abhorred scowl.
Gabs unraveled her package and beheld the poled blade, finely cut mythril that bore an edged prong from the blade side.
“Hells yeah, I’m happy,” Gabs beamed in admiration as she hugged the pole and spoke softly to herself, “the
Mythril Spear—plenty of *sses
will be handed to their respected *ss-mongers with this baby!—” she rewrapped the spear, faced Bentuk, and waved with a cute smile, “Thankies, Bentuk… bye now;” she proceeded out with a skip, only to stop dead in her tracks to the cracking of Bentuk’s knuckles. She eased into a cheeky grin as she turned to face him.
“What’s the hurry lil’ lady?—” Bentuk sternly affirmed as the register chimed, “That’ll be two thousan’ sixy munny
wit’ that discount that you waited two ana’ half months for.”
“Oh, boo,” Gabrianna taunted as she approached his counter with munny in hand.
“Prob’ly stole th’munnies ta buy this…” Bentuk grumbled.
Gabs scoffed as she proceeded out, “That’s rather ungrateful! Be happy I paid for it…!” and then noticed the older duck, the cricket, and their company eyeing her skeptically.
She addressed, in an obvious tone, “Uh, can I
help you?”
‘
Bang!—’ the room quivered beneath Bentuk’s fists as they slammed onto the counter.
“Uh…” Gabrianna swallowed her impending fear and addressed Jiminy with a brisk, trembling voice, “sorry, cricket dude. You’re
not a nosey, whiny—”
“OUT!—” Bentuk wailed at the top of his lungs.
Gabrianna hugged her Mythril Spear once more, and with two upraised fingers, Gabs abruptly concluded, “Geeky Rebel, out!” She dashed for the exit.
1 The term ‘leet’ often refers to Leetspeak, and is derived from the word, “elite”. In this case, the term is used as an adjective, to primarily indicate an expertise, or something of top-notch rank or quality.
ACT 3