Flying Blind

Chapter 3: Take The Road On Higher Grounds

At exactly 1 in the afternoon, Alfonse, hidden by his usual goggles and hat, fidgeted impatiently with the handle of his luggage in the town's port. Alistair had let him know that loading everything into the flying ship was going to take a while, but he had been late two times before, and he'd be damned if it was going to happen for the third time.

-Do you truly not need help with anything? he called out to Alistair and the two men helping him.

-Don't worry. It's all good, we'll be done soon, the other dismissed him, waving his hand.

Alfonse sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked up at the ship. It looked... strikingly similar to a zeppelin, besides from the "wings" extending from the sides. It didn't look too spacious from the outside, but he did recall Alistair mentioning some ships had rooms built inside of them.

He felt a little nauseous, staring up at the ship. Of course it was going to rise well above the ground, who wouldn't know that. He just hoped he could manage to avoid its windows enough to be able to distract himself from it.

-Everything ok? smiled Alistair. You look lost in your thoughts. Come on, we're done.

Alfonse, a bit startled by the interruption, looked at the ladder going up into the ship and gulped.

Not that he was scared, of course. He was just... "realistic". Surely Alistair was a good pilot, he was confident and seemed to know just about everything about that ship, but something could always intervene, like a storm or-

-Are you nervous? the other asked, amused.

He was halfway up the ladder, staring down at Alfonse, when the realization hit him.

-You're scared of flying, aren't you?

"Oh hell." muttered Alfonse, frowning slightly. He saw right through him, that smug bastard.

-You dabble in poisonous substances for a living. Is my ship truly how you fear you're going to die?

-Well, I wasn't thinking about dying, he scoffed. But now that you mention it...

Alistair sat on one step of the ladder and shrugged.

-Listen, I have been flying this thing since I was a boy, I can make it take off with my eyes closed. It's going to be fine, he sighed. Now come in, or I will not hesitate to leave without you.

Alfonse... would've been lying if he said it did not sound at least a bit tempting. With great effort, however, he handed his bag for Alistair to raise on board, then followed after. He climbed up inside, grabbing Alistair's arm to help hoist himself up to his feet.

The inside of the ship seemed surprisingly cozy. Wooden floorboards, a dark red couch placed against a wall, nearby what looked like the ship's control panels. And... very large windows, all around the room. Of course, what else could've been expected. Although, the room was still very scarcely decorated, compared to what Alfonse was used to. "Oh god," he thought, slightly horrified, "my house must've looked like I have a hoarding problem in comparison."

His train of thought was interrupted by a tap to his shoulder.

-Come with me, I still have a few things to show you quickly, before we take off.

He pointed to another large trapdoor above them, then opened it to set another ladder down.

The next room Alfonse was shown was quite small. Not that he minded, honestly. It was nice, reminded him of his own. A desk, a bunk bed, a few pictures on the walls. Nothing quite extraordinary about it, but nothing worth criticizing either. He set his bag down next to the bed.

-Since we won't be reaching Essant for a few days, you'll need a place to sleep, explained Alistair. Don't mind the beds, pick whichever, I won't be sleeping unless we've landed in a port somewhere, so this will basically be your own room. I'll go start the ship. If you want something, just come down.

Alfonse waited until the door was closed, then threw himself on the bottom bed and closed his eyes. God, he felt nauseous. Not just because of the ship taking off, although staying in his room while that happened had been a good idea. He felt his stomach turn at the possibility of dragging Alistair into his business. Essant... was going to be troubling. His plans were dangerous, and if the people he was working with might not be any worry to him, those that they were working against were deadly.

And Alistair seemed... unfit for dealing with something like that. Open, harmless and friendly, God, that organization would eat him alive if he meddled with them.

Alfonse smacked himself over the forehead. "Stupid," he thought. "this is painfully, incredibly stupid". Alistair was some harmless pilot, why would those people even associate him with Alfonse or anyone else strongly enough to care about him. Why would he even let Alistair know what he was doing, let alone, through God knows what way, get him involved enough for Alfonse agonizing over his wellbeing to be anything other than unbelievably stupid. They were, what, "acquaintances?" Alfonse scowled, frustrated.

He settled on brushing it off as... care for the life on an innocent human being. "Yeah, sure," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that's a good enough explanation."

He stared up at the underside of the other bed for a bit, then impatiently checked the clock on the wall. It was... it wasn't even 3 in the afternoon, and he was already bored out of his mind. He opened his bag carefully, pulling out a book he brought from home, then got up and left it on the bed. He made his way down to Alistair.

The ship was flying smoothly, without any turbulence. However, that didn't stop Alfonse from feeling like the room was spinning with him when he peeked through them, looking down at the ground below. He groaned, sliding down the side of the ship until he was sitting down right on the floor.

-Not doing very well, I suppose? asked Alistair, entirely too cheerful in Alfonse's opinion.

-Let's just say I have my regrets, came the reply, muffled into the crook of his elbow.

His eyes darted through the room, inspecting the control panel, the floor, anything but the windows, the reminder of how high up in the air they were.

-Do you happen to have some food in this damned ship too?

Alistair raised his eyebrows, questioning.

-Were you not sick a minute ago?

-Yes, well, between the nausea from thinking about flying, Alfonse replied, rolling his eyes, and the one from actually flying, I didn't have much time to eat. Although, forgetting to bring something of my own is my mistake.

-It's fine, I brought some. You're in... unbelievable luck, he joked, taking a sandwich wrapped in paper out of the bag he'd hung on the back of his seat and throwing it to Alfonse.

-Oh, he added quickly, before I forget my idea- try distracting yourself with something to help with your fear of heights. I've had a few people on board with me before, and it seemed to help. Try telling me about something, I'm sure you have some good stories.

Alfonse thought about it for a moment, then snorted.

-Mhm, sure do, he nodded. You want to hear about some idiots I've had as clients?

-Considering what your job is? Oh, absolutely.