Final Fantasy XII “Quick Fics.”

Author's Note: It's been a while, eh? Well to make a long story short - computer crashed, lost all my work and my interest in writing, but lately I've been bit with a persistent itch and this is where this fanfic comes in. While traipsing through the Estersands I figured, "Hey, why not try to fight that dinosaur guy?" And, well. The rest you can figure out from the story. Obviously the discussion is a fabrication of my own amusement, so hopefully you enjoy it as well.

I might be writing a few of these, from time to time, hence: Quick Fics. A quick fix of fanfics for myself and whoever cares to read them. Enjoy! So sorry about the long wait for The Hunger of a Heart. I'm rewriting a lot of it, so I expect you guys can see some better versions of old chapters being posted. I'd hate to take the originals down but. . . I can't very well bear to keep them up, either.

“Oh yeah? Well you just watch me!” Vaan's voice surged, a petulant and triumphant cheer that was not dismayed nor spurned by the arid heat of the Estersand. The hot sun beat down on the sextet's backs, lining their flesh with sweat and coating their throats in a layer of oppressive dust. It made talking all the more of a trial, especially when chastising and reprimands were involved, and the heat made them weary; for a moment none bothered to speak up and call the flaxen-haired lad back from his foolhardy charge.

Penelo waved her hand in front of her face and huffed, a hopeless attempt at keeping cool when she was very near losing her own. “Oh, Vaan, don't!” She called out to him.

“I fear it's hopeless,” Balthier warned in a voice coated with mock dismay. He fuddled idly at his wrist-cuffs, perhaps itching to shorten the sleeves or at the very least remove the blouse altogether.

Ashe sighed heavily and watched as Vaan raced over to a Wolf, a common sight in the Dalmasca Sands and not one that posed too much worry.

What did pose worry, however, was its predator: a fearsome Tyrant of a Reptile, teeth as long as Ashe's leg and a mouth as wide as her entire form. She shuddered at the sight – and gasped as Vaan drew nearer to its mark.

“Vaan, you idiot!” The princess shouted and hesitated between drawing her sword and retreating behind the nearest alcove of boulders, in hopes to shield her from the slaughter that was soon to follow.

“Watch me!” Vaan called again, perfectly oblivious as he raised his Shortsword overhead and brought it down swiftly, slashing a deep gouge in the Wolf's hide. It yelped and snarled, baring fangs that seemed but bawdy peals when compared to the other menacing set that drew nearer still.

The Tyrant lizard roared and rushed forward, the earth shaking where its menacing feet did fall. Penelo stumbled and let out a high-pitched shriek of terror. Ashe let the sand swallow her own scream.

“GAHH!” Vaan cried out victoriously, pleased as the Wolf shuddered and collapsed in a heap, slain in one fell swoop of a lucky strike. Only when the mark fell did he notice the threat drawing closer to him; Ashe attributed his oafishness to Desert Madness, a terrible malady that befell only the most foolhardy and stupid wayfayer.

“Vaan, get out of there!” Penelo was nearly in hysterics, stamping her feet in a childish manner that sent up clouds of dust-swirls into the air. She clenched her fists and was near to a tantrum.

Vaan's moment of glory utterly shattered, the young man gaped as the Reptile sped ever closer, his sword arm going limp at his side 'til the weapon fell to the dust. He seemed grasping at a word that danced, tauntingly, on the edge of his smarted tongue. “RETREAT!” He managed to burst out at long last, turning on his heel and sprinting as fast as the shifting earth would allow, nearly knocking Ashe over onto her backside.

The party was quick to follow suit, their hearts racing as their limbs flew over the sand, as the Tyrant pursued.

“This is what you get for playing the blind fool!” Ashe called out to Vaan, nearly tempted to swat at him as they spun a corner and down a slope, leading to the camp betwixt Rabanastre and Nalbina. It was a peaceful dwelling open to travelers all, though Ashe doubted they would welcome a team foolish enough to call the attention of a monster. She prayed its attention-span was as short as its useless, stubby arms and it would gain a more keen interest in a passing Wolf than a fleeing flock of Hume and Viera.

“Vaan, so help me, were you in my charge I would thrash you with the lash myself!” Basch was several paces ahead of them all, a knight's temperament never bested by heat nor by impending doom, though certainly tested by the dim-witted antics of a teenager.

“Let us see what supplies are in camp,” Fran growled, her long gait making her second in the race. “Mayhap there be a whip we could put to use.”

“That's not funny, you guys! Now's not the time!” Vaan sputtered and slipped, righting himself just in time to avoid colliding with the faster Penelo, her terror making her a rather gifted sprinter.

“I must agree, Fran: don't distract me with such talk when our lives are in peril.” That could only be Balthier's purr; a small comfort at this moment.

“Oh, would you please remove your mind from your britches and keep running!” Ashe commanded and sent a cold glare at Balthier as she passed him. He responded with a charming smirk and a devilish wink that made her already thundering heart crash all the more furiously.

“An envious green does not suit you, princess! You'll have your chance, I promise.”

The camp was in sight now. Ashe thought such a ramshackle lean-to of a hovel could never look more glorious and beautiful in her short life. She urged herself to press onward, her fists clammy with sweat and her neck bathed in perspiration. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, laboring with each inhalation as she willed herself onward, forward and beyond the grasp of danger.

“What's all the ruckus?” Danto, the watchkeeper of the camp, inquired as he stood down from his seat on a crate and squinted his eyes at the group, cupping his hands over his brow to blot out the glare of the sun. Quickly did it descend, as did his mouth, as he stared in horror at what brought the ruckus, and he was quick to join them in fleeing. “Y-you. . . dunder-headed sacks of Nanna dung! Which one of you drew the Tyrant, eh?!”

“We're really sorry!” Penelo called out as she passed him, her pigtails flying in the speedy breeze.

“We shall offer recompense, sir,” Basch vowed, nodding solemnly as he charged ahead.

“Look to the boy, should you want payment,” Balthier hinted as he followed up behind Basch and the girl, making to the narrow pass that led to the Yardang Labyrinth. Surely the beast could not follow them there. The way was far too small for a monster of its girth – or so they prayed.

All seven of them made it through the clearing unharmed, save for a significant pitch in fear and a steadily boiling rage at the imbecilic behavior that brought about the harm. The Tyrant roared from its trapped position and began crashing about the camp, chomping through tents and swiping aside all manners of supplies and foodstuffs with its massive tail. As the party regained their composure the tantrum continued; they took turns peeking out from behind the small protection of a striped rock while passing around flasks of water and meagerly-effective curative spells and potions.

When their voices allowed them to speak, none were hesitant to lambaste.

“That outpost has been stationed there for years, boy! Long before you were even a tadpole in your father's pouch, I'd wager. And now look at it!” Danto scowled and pointed as the Tyrant stomped on what was left of the camp, crushing it into the dirt with its massive feet.

“I'm. . . I'm sorry,” Vaan sputtered, nervously eying the rest of the party.

“Sorrys don't fix a damn thing! It might not be much but it'll take a pretty Gil to rebuild that camp – Gil that certainly shan't be coming from my pocket! What do you take me for, some oafish Archadian with coffers to piss as freely as my own golden stream?” Danto was raging full steam ahead; the others were likewise keen to get their words in.

“You were utterly, utterly careless and I'll be hard-pressed not to box you in every spare moment I get from here on out,” Ashe swore and leaned heavily against the back of the stone, closing her eyes as the painful flush of sudden exertion faded, though hesitantly, from her lungs and chest. Balthier passed her the water flask and she drank from it deeply, heartily invigored by its succulent dregs.

“That's what eyes are for, Vaan. Looking at things, knowing when a big dinosaur's heading your way.” Penelo did what they all wished they had the nerve to do and slapped him hard across the bicep. The exposed flesh blushed instantly and Vaan bristled, covering the wound with his hand and glaring fiercely at his friend.

“More shall I say a brain,” Balthier quipped. He took a seat next to Ashe and gently took the flask from her hands, throwing back his head and drinking what was left of the water.

“Well, how was I supposed to know he was hungry? There's plenty of Wolves for him to eat, why'd he have to go and pick that one?” Vaan remained indignant, though it was getting him nowhere. His explanation could have been perfectly justified and reasonable and they still would have vetoed it, not caring when their lives and health were very nearly lost in the jaws of a pre-historic beastie.

“My hand still itches for a lash,” Fran warned and knelt in a small cropping of shade, closing her eyes to steady her temper as she breathed in deep, ignoring the pleading look on Vaan's boyish features.

“Cut it out, you guys. It was stupid – there, I said it. It was stupid! Can we just drop it now?”

“Find me a ditch and I'll drop you,” Balthier growled. Ashe chuckled and nodded approvingly. Balthier seemed to beam at her endorsement of this notion and puffed himself up somewhat from his slouched and limp position.

“I do not think he's like to stop any time soon,” Basch murmured, having returned from taking a look at the destruction the Tyrant still waged on the small, unimposing outpost. He sighed and crouched down, his hands clenched over his kneecaps. “I think we should strike camp, and pray to the gods it wanders off ere nightfall. We still have business in Rabanastre.”

“None of you are leaving until I see a down-payment for repairs. I'll hold you here myself, by the gods, I don't care what kind of weapons you have to throw at me.” Danto now turned his rage on them all, finding Vaan's keepers as guilty of this mess as Vaan himself. “Think this is going to be easy to explain to the village Elder when he asks how well I'm handling things? Eh?”

“We are sorry,” Basch replied. Ashe wished fleetingly that the man would shut up for a moment so that she could enjoy whatever brief repose the blistering desert could afford her.

Danto busied himself with mumbles and grumbles a few moments more before he began pacing 'round the clearing, well away from them all. Though he sent chilling glares at the lot of them he did not try to address them again.

After several minutes had ticked by in silence, Ashe decided her venom had faded enough for her to speak somewhat civilly to the boy. “What ever made you do such a thing?”

Vaan looked sheepish as he cringed in on himself, as if to draw his body as small as he could without having the ability to disappear entirely. He pursed his lips and murmured quietly, almost low enough to make his answer incoherent – and Ashe wished that he hadn't bothered to respond at all.

“I wanted to test out the blade I bought in the Bazaar.”

An audible groan rose up from the party, heads lolling and eyes rolling heavenward, pleading for patience that escaped them all. Ashe scowled and kicked a heap of sand that fell in Vaan's lap with a fierce hiss. The boy stumbled back, fearing the next strike of her foot would land somewhere on him.

“Good shot, princess,” Balthier crooned.

“Loan me your gun next time, if you would.” Ashe couldn't bring herself to look away from Vaan, hoping that he'd learned his damn lesson.

“It would be my pleasure,” the pirate replied.

“You never let me use it,” Vaan's voice was sullen and pouty, like a child denied a tempting treat from his parents. He slumped in the dirt and balled his hands into fists, mashing them at his sides.

“There are some things one man never shares with another, Vaan, and that is the knowledge of his firearm.”

Ashe sighed. “Mind. Britches. Remove it.”

“As you wish.”