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Title: Hollow Bones
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 373 words
Notes: - Final Fantasy IX, Kuja/Zidane: differences in physique - you'd think all genomes looked the same under their clothes" Written for Springkink '08.
Kuja wasn't quite as light as a feather against Zidane's back-- unconscious, he was a limp mass of silks, skin, and hair, and the only feathers present were the ones woven into that hair. They tickled the back of Zidane's neck as he shrugged his shoulders to redistribute the weight of his burden, like he was carrying some sort of overgrown bird. Not being lighter than a feather didn't mean that he wasn't lighter than he should be, though. If that was because of the illness slowly eating away at him from the inside, Zidane didn't want to know. Instead, he let his mind linger on the strangely hilarious image of Kuja as a damsel in distress, which explained away both the silks and the weight.
He'd been expecting the other genome to feel more like, well, himself when he picked him up. After all, they were from the same mold, weren't they? Or test tube, or wherever-- that was another concept Zidane didn't like to think much about. But Kuja was a mage, so it was perfectly natural that he hadn't gained the same muscle tone as Zidane, so--
He nearly tripped over a root.
Navigating his way out of the Iifa Tree had been hard enough when it hadn't been a mess of broken branches and ruined paths. Now, after the destruction of Memoria, and with his brother slung over his shoulders, it was nearly impossible. "Last I checked," he muttered to the unresponsive Kuja, "recuees are supposed to be more grateful."
Zidane nearly jumped when a dry, pained-sounding voice murmured by his ear, "Would you prefer a kiss, my brave knight?" True to form, even half-dead and being all but dragged out of a ruined tree that could collapse around them at any time, Kuja's tone was dry and amused.
"I think I'll pass on that, thanks," Zidane managed. "You probably shouldn't be talking, anyway. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to tell you to save your strength."
His response was a wheezing chuckle against his neck, followed by dry lips brushing over his skin. "And when have I ever listened to you, brother dear?"
Zidane had to admit that Kuja had an excellent point. He shivered.
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