One Burnt Marshmellow
By Starwinger
Place: Mist Cave
Time: Six 1/2 years before FF Darkstar
"Too much coffee the night before, Kain?" asked Cecil dryly.
Kain grinned idiotically from his uncomfortable (in Cecil's opinion) position hanging upside down from a stalactite and tossed a dice at him. Cecil swatted at it and missed miserably. It somehow managed to entangle itself in his feather-like white hair, making him wonder when he had last combed it. One of the advantages of having white hair, even though it made it difficult to pick up chicks, was that nobody would notice his dandruff. *Dratted mideival hygenic problems...*
Kain launched another dice, which coincidentally took up the same trajectory as the last six sided cube; mainly, towards Cecil's hair. Cecil managed to parry the inhumane assault this time... at least warrior reflexes were good for something other than last minute Christmas shopping. "Up for a game of Zilch?" he (Kain, not Cecil, who can hardly be considered a he) asked idly.
Cecil shook his head, partially because of the increasing burden on his conscience after the slaughter at Mysidia, and partially because he needed to get the first dice out of his hair, but his hands were full.
"C'mon, what's eating you, Cecil?" Kain chucked another die at Cecil, which ricocheted off his dirt cheap Dark Knight armor (denting it in the process). "A white Mist dragon?"
Cecil sat motionless, pale and wraithlike with his serpentine eyes, almost lifeless but for his quiet intake of breath. A silvery veil of elusive mist shrouded his eyes, a mist that would swirl and linger like foggy dreams, chilling everything with its cold presence except Cecil's armor. It swirled over it, near it, but would not collect on the jet black metal, devoid of moisture and light from the crackling fire nearby that the mist also would not touch. (Darkness is no respecter of the mist, only bad metaphors.)
Kain tossed another dice at him, but Cecil saw it coming and caught it in cupped hands. The dragoon dislodged himself from the stalactite and landed on the damp cave floor with a dull thud. "So, you gonna play?"
Cecil shrugged. "Yeah, as soon as I finish roasting this marshmall-Shiva!" The white-haired man watched helplessly as the white lump he had been meticulously roasting over the campfire for the last minute or two was consumed in a burst of flame.
Kain giggled like a schoolgirl (to his mortal embarassment later at a more sober time of his life). "Guess that's a yes."
After a bit of searching for the die Kain had tossed and for his missing contact lens, Cecil managed to pull off a fairly decent roll that allowed him to go first. "You realize," he murmered, "That I have no idea how to play this game."