Shaman Sniper – Ch 5 "Plushie"
"Happy Birthday." Irvine handed him a handstitched doll, made in his likeness.
He turned it over, warily. "You got me a voodoo doll?"
"It's not a voodoo doll, it's a fetish."
"I'm not that kinky."
"Not that kind of fetish. Wise ass. Here, I'll show you." Irvine took back the crude figurine, and pointed at what was supposed to be the gunblade scabbard. "See? It's a tube. You unscrew the top, write your heart's desire on a piece of paper, roll it up, and put it in the tube."
Squall quirked an eyebrow. "And you couldn't get me gun polish… why?"
Irvine snorted. "Yer welcome, ya bastard. Just thought I'd be unique. Don't knock it 'til ya try it. This thing's guaranteed to bring you the one thing you want most."
"Um, thanks, but I don't believe in stuff like that."
"Squall. You have a deity in your head. You cast magic on a daily basis. You've time traveled, possessed your father, and fought sorceresses."
"Your point?"
"My point is, don't knock it 'til ya try it."
Squall shrugged, and tossed it into the pile of previous gifts. It landed with a crack. "Jeez, what'd you do, put rocks in it?"
"Yes. Chakra stones. Makes it more powerful."
"Don't tell me you actually believe in this rubbish."
He found himself inches away from Irvine's nose as the cowboy stared down at him. It was an intense expression, but not of anger. He couldn't really place it.
"Just give it a try. You'll be surprised."
"Whatever."
It was a struggle to get the presents and rest of the cake through his bedroom door in one armload, but he was victorious. He tossed everything in a corner to deal with later. Right now he could use some unconsciousness. Six to eight hours of it.
Sleep, however, was short in coming. Too much soda, probably. He glared at the ceiling as if the thing had mortally wounded him. Darn Selphie for pushing that third piece of cake on him. He had enough sleepless nights as it is.
A thump was the pile of presents submitting to gravity and rearranging themselves into a more "downward" position. He glanced over at them, and wasn't surprised to see the button eyes of the 'plushie Squall' staring back at him. "Bloody cowboy had to be original," he growled. "Couldn't get me a tie."
Heart's Desire, huh? Like most new age stuff, it was purposefully vague. Like horoscopes. But at least it was something to think about. He never could stand the weary blankness of mind that usually came with his insomnia.
Well…Rinoa. But I've already got her. I'd like more time with her, but her work in Timber is important.
…I always wanted a family. But Laguna just makes me uncomfortable. Right now, I only want to relate to him on a professional basis.
…I like cheesecake. Heh, maybe the little dollie could bring me cheesecake. And then when I coincidentally get cheesecake, I'm supposed to throw my hands in the air and scream "It's a miracle", right? I hate new age stuff. It's so ridiculous.
Sighing, he dragged himself up, marched over to retrieve the doll, and returned to his bed. He hadn't taken a very good look at the thing. Maybe it could distract him.
It was a surprisingly good likeness, in a comical way. Blue buttons for eyes, in his exact shade, he thought, although it was difficult to tell in the poor lighting. A scar that looked like it was painted on with nail polish. Brown hair made of yarn, combed and glued into his "natural" hairstyle. A mini leather jacket of actual leather, and actual leather pants, boots, and gloves. There was even a tiny little metal necklace, though the pendant was just a silver ball. All his belts were there, with the large studded ones being made of leather strips with silver paint globs. The nose was nonexistent and the mouth was black yarn sewn in an X shape. If it had been a voodoo doll, that would've worried him a little, but on this plushie it just looked silly.
The scabbard 'tube' had been left unscrewed after Irvine demonstrated using it, hanging by a thread tied to the chibi's main 'belt'. He pulled out the blank piece of paper the cowboy had provided. It was one of those handmade, multicolored, recycled papers. And he swore it was scented.
Well, if he believed it was nonsense, what could it hurt to try it out? So long as no one ever found out. And if they did, he could say he was playing along for Irvine's benefit.
What to write? He'd never been the one to fantasize about things he wanted, and his was finding the exercise difficult. He had Rinoa. He had family, now. He could go down to the store and buy cheesecake.
If I could have anything in the world, anything at all, what would it be?
Dammit. He couldn't think of anything.
Whatever. It was a stupid idea anyway. He grabbed a pen, and for kicks, scribbled down '300 foot tall living purple marshmallow chocobo'. There, let's see THAT come true.
At five am, just as he was finally getting some sleep, his intercom buzzed the emergency signal. He leapt out of bed and over to it. "Leonhart."
"Squall, you're… not going to believe what just broke through the wall of the Training Center and ate a T-rexaur."
In the distance, he heard the loudest chirp that was ever chirped. It made the walls shake.
"Is it purple, fluffy, and made of marshmallow?"
"Yes, you've seen it already?"
"Have the SeeDs hold a bonfire and melt the blighter for s'mores. I'm calling in sick for the week."
He collapsed on the bed and put a pillow over his head.
The intercom buzzed again, with the regular signal. Groaning, he stumbled over to it again.
"Leonhart."
"Next time, buddy, ask for a puppy."
Author's Notes - I'm mixing the idea oftotem dolls and wish pendants, because I couldn't resist the temptation of a chibi Squall plushie. Who could?