"Please tell it again! Please!"
Bright eyes, one gold the other blue, looked up at their owner's beloved pappa. Leaning forward on his hands, the small boy gave a smile that could melt hearts as he pleaded for a story, one of his favorites, to be recounted again. It was a tradition, every year, though he asked for it every now and then when he really wanted to hear it but his father was just so good at telling it that the boy made it a special Namesday wish of his. He loved the way his pappa told it because of all the funny voices and the little magic tricks and just--it was just the best, it really, really was!
"Are you sure? You ask every year! It's not getting too old for you, kupo?"
"No! No!" the small boy cheered, shaking his head emphatically. "It's tradition! And tradition is important because otherwise it wouldn't be traditional!" His tone was very grave on this point--it was both sound and legit logic to him. "So we have to follow tradition! Traditionally!"
"Alright, alright!" Koopin Kop nodded, raising his little paw to calm the child. "If you want it so much then I suppose it's alright to tell you again." This was met with another cheer of glee from the small boy who had settled down, leaning back on his hands as he sat on the carpet of leaves within the small house that served as the Moogles' home--and his.
"Once upon a time, long, long before any Moogles that are alive today were in Eorzea, all the Moogles lived high in the sky, amongst the stars." Koopin Kop raised his hand creating a bright burst of tiny, glamoured stars over head. "And all the Moogles lived as servants to the gods and they were happy. Above them all reigned Good King Moogle Mog XII who was the biggest, bravest and kindest of all Moogle-Kind." At this, the various insignias of the Twelve were formed from the tiny stars. Beneath them, the image of a tiny, crowned Moogle floated, looking very regal (and yet cuddly) at the same time.
"The Moogles liked being servants to the gods?" the child asked curiously, tilting his head. That was one thing he had never understood--how someone could be happy serving another for their whole lives.
"Of course. The gods were good to the moogles, and the moogles, in turn, enjoyed serving the gods who protected them. There is notihng wrong with a simple and humble life, kupo!" This didn't clear up the boy's confusion but he didn't interrupt again.
"As I was saying, the Moogles lived very happily, eating and drinking and serving...until the great war in the heavens began. It was very dangerous and the moogles were in danger since they were simply servants and not gods. And so, Good King Moogle Mog XII--"
"Wanted to help them be free!"
"Wanted to help them escape the danger, kupo--" Koopin Kop corrected. At his words and a few motions, the stars turned slightly red and the signs of the gods became clouded and distorted, twisting into uncanny shapes. "And so he determined that the only place they would be safe was upon the land below. And that meant escaping down to Eorzea."
"So they made a loooong rope, right?" the child grinned, seeming to like this part. "And they all climbed down!" The boy loved climbing trees--it only stood to reason this part was his favorite part. To think about such a long rope that could go all the way from the heavens to the ground below...that would be an amazing rope to climb! "Because moogles have wings but they can't fly that far so they had to climb down, right? Right?"
"Yes! But sadly, there was no way to tie off the rope in the heavens and so one moogle would have to stay behind to hold the lifeline so that all the other moogles could escape, kupo. And the only moogle strong enough was--"
"Good King Moogle Mog XII!" The boy was completely enamored with the story, his mis-matched eyes watching as the large moogle in the glamoured story lowered a long tether and tiny moogles began their long scury and slide down to the 'earth' below. He was leaning forward again, eyes following the show with glee, counting the moogles in his head as they descended one after the other--every year it was a different number. Last year it was six...the year before it had been five and this year it was...seven!
"That is just so. And so Good King Moogle Mog XII remained in the heavens because he had no way down. And all the Moogles safely escaped the war in the heaven to lead happy lives here on Eorzea; though they were very sad to lose their kind and benevolent king."
"What does that mean?"
"What does what mean, kupo?"
"Be--ne--ve--lant?"
"Benevolent means 'someone known for doing good things', kupo. And it is why all moogles should try to be just like Good King Moogle Mog XII. No matter what, we must always be good and kind so that even though our king is not here with us in person, he is with us in spirit, kupo."
"So...that means that I should be good and kind too, right?"
"That it does, kupo. It's important that you always do your best to be kind to everyone. It is the 'Right' thing to do."
"The 'Right' thing to do..." the boy nodded again, going deep into thought. He liked doing the right thing--and if being like Good King Moogle Mog XII was the Right thing then he would do it too. "Then I'll be a good moogle just like Good King Moogle Mog XII. I promise!"
Koopin Kop nodded sagely and twitched his whiskers. One of these days they would have to tell the boy he wasn't a Moogle. He was certain that the child already knew--he had always been very clever and observant and so the moogle and his wife had trouble determining if the boy was simply playing along for their sake or if he really believed it--for being a small Hyur child, Tarot was astoundingly good at sarcasm and even better at being more than a bit cheeky and patronizing.
=================
"Might I ask, then, when you figured it out, kupo?" Koopin Kop asked, cracking open a nut and nibbling on the meat inside, looking at Tarot from across the way. It was his Namesday, after all, and Tarot had wanted his traditionally traditional story. Afterwards though, the older moogle decided to finally ask the question.
"What do you mean?" Tarot replied, sitting at the counter and looking very smug and pleased with himself, as he always did.
"When did you figure out that you weren't one of us? That you weren't a moogle?"
"I'm not a moogle!?" Tarot feigned shock and horror before making a little grin and chuckling in his throat at the frown his adopted father gave him. "I figured it out my seventh year--the year I figured out that the number of moogles descending down the rope matched my current Namesday--I suddenly realized that a lack of wings, pom-pom, fur, whiskers, paws and that I had to force myself to say 'Kupo' were all indicators that maybe, just maybe, I was a Lalafell and not a moogle. Still didn't keep me from imagining myself to be the second coming of Good King Moogle Mog--Good King Tarot Mog XIII. Has a nice ring to it, no?" He gave his father a wink and took a drink from his coffee.
"You still have your cheekiness, that's for sure, kupo. But I don't think that will be going anywhere any time soon." The Moogle got up and drifted over to Tarot, giving him a fond pat on the head with his paw. "You're still my boy, even if you're ten times my size, kupo. Don't you forget that. Happy Namesday, kupo."
"Heh, thanks." Tarot paused and then carefully pulled his pa into a hug. "Thanks, papa."
Bright eyes, one gold the other blue, looked up at their owner's beloved pappa. Leaning forward on his hands, the small boy gave a smile that could melt hearts as he pleaded for a story, one of his favorites, to be recounted again. It was a tradition, every year, though he asked for it every now and then when he really wanted to hear it but his father was just so good at telling it that the boy made it a special Namesday wish of his. He loved the way his pappa told it because of all the funny voices and the little magic tricks and just--it was just the best, it really, really was!
"Are you sure? You ask every year! It's not getting too old for you, kupo?"
"No! No!" the small boy cheered, shaking his head emphatically. "It's tradition! And tradition is important because otherwise it wouldn't be traditional!" His tone was very grave on this point--it was both sound and legit logic to him. "So we have to follow tradition! Traditionally!"
"Alright, alright!" Koopin Kop nodded, raising his little paw to calm the child. "If you want it so much then I suppose it's alright to tell you again." This was met with another cheer of glee from the small boy who had settled down, leaning back on his hands as he sat on the carpet of leaves within the small house that served as the Moogles' home--and his.
"Once upon a time, long, long before any Moogles that are alive today were in Eorzea, all the Moogles lived high in the sky, amongst the stars." Koopin Kop raised his hand creating a bright burst of tiny, glamoured stars over head. "And all the Moogles lived as servants to the gods and they were happy. Above them all reigned Good King Moogle Mog XII who was the biggest, bravest and kindest of all Moogle-Kind." At this, the various insignias of the Twelve were formed from the tiny stars. Beneath them, the image of a tiny, crowned Moogle floated, looking very regal (and yet cuddly) at the same time.
"The Moogles liked being servants to the gods?" the child asked curiously, tilting his head. That was one thing he had never understood--how someone could be happy serving another for their whole lives.
"Of course. The gods were good to the moogles, and the moogles, in turn, enjoyed serving the gods who protected them. There is notihng wrong with a simple and humble life, kupo!" This didn't clear up the boy's confusion but he didn't interrupt again.
"As I was saying, the Moogles lived very happily, eating and drinking and serving...until the great war in the heavens began. It was very dangerous and the moogles were in danger since they were simply servants and not gods. And so, Good King Moogle Mog XII--"
"Wanted to help them be free!"
"Wanted to help them escape the danger, kupo--" Koopin Kop corrected. At his words and a few motions, the stars turned slightly red and the signs of the gods became clouded and distorted, twisting into uncanny shapes. "And so he determined that the only place they would be safe was upon the land below. And that meant escaping down to Eorzea."
"So they made a loooong rope, right?" the child grinned, seeming to like this part. "And they all climbed down!" The boy loved climbing trees--it only stood to reason this part was his favorite part. To think about such a long rope that could go all the way from the heavens to the ground below...that would be an amazing rope to climb! "Because moogles have wings but they can't fly that far so they had to climb down, right? Right?"
"Yes! But sadly, there was no way to tie off the rope in the heavens and so one moogle would have to stay behind to hold the lifeline so that all the other moogles could escape, kupo. And the only moogle strong enough was--"
"Good King Moogle Mog XII!" The boy was completely enamored with the story, his mis-matched eyes watching as the large moogle in the glamoured story lowered a long tether and tiny moogles began their long scury and slide down to the 'earth' below. He was leaning forward again, eyes following the show with glee, counting the moogles in his head as they descended one after the other--every year it was a different number. Last year it was six...the year before it had been five and this year it was...seven!
"That is just so. And so Good King Moogle Mog XII remained in the heavens because he had no way down. And all the Moogles safely escaped the war in the heaven to lead happy lives here on Eorzea; though they were very sad to lose their kind and benevolent king."
"What does that mean?"
"What does what mean, kupo?"
"Be--ne--ve--lant?"
"Benevolent means 'someone known for doing good things', kupo. And it is why all moogles should try to be just like Good King Moogle Mog XII. No matter what, we must always be good and kind so that even though our king is not here with us in person, he is with us in spirit, kupo."
"So...that means that I should be good and kind too, right?"
"That it does, kupo. It's important that you always do your best to be kind to everyone. It is the 'Right' thing to do."
"The 'Right' thing to do..." the boy nodded again, going deep into thought. He liked doing the right thing--and if being like Good King Moogle Mog XII was the Right thing then he would do it too. "Then I'll be a good moogle just like Good King Moogle Mog XII. I promise!"
Koopin Kop nodded sagely and twitched his whiskers. One of these days they would have to tell the boy he wasn't a Moogle. He was certain that the child already knew--he had always been very clever and observant and so the moogle and his wife had trouble determining if the boy was simply playing along for their sake or if he really believed it--for being a small Hyur child, Tarot was astoundingly good at sarcasm and even better at being more than a bit cheeky and patronizing.
=================
"Might I ask, then, when you figured it out, kupo?" Koopin Kop asked, cracking open a nut and nibbling on the meat inside, looking at Tarot from across the way. It was his Namesday, after all, and Tarot had wanted his traditionally traditional story. Afterwards though, the older moogle decided to finally ask the question.
"What do you mean?" Tarot replied, sitting at the counter and looking very smug and pleased with himself, as he always did.
"When did you figure out that you weren't one of us? That you weren't a moogle?"
"I'm not a moogle!?" Tarot feigned shock and horror before making a little grin and chuckling in his throat at the frown his adopted father gave him. "I figured it out my seventh year--the year I figured out that the number of moogles descending down the rope matched my current Namesday--I suddenly realized that a lack of wings, pom-pom, fur, whiskers, paws and that I had to force myself to say 'Kupo' were all indicators that maybe, just maybe, I was a Lalafell and not a moogle. Still didn't keep me from imagining myself to be the second coming of Good King Moogle Mog--Good King Tarot Mog XIII. Has a nice ring to it, no?" He gave his father a wink and took a drink from his coffee.
"You still have your cheekiness, that's for sure, kupo. But I don't think that will be going anywhere any time soon." The Moogle got up and drifted over to Tarot, giving him a fond pat on the head with his paw. "You're still my boy, even if you're ten times my size, kupo. Don't you forget that. Happy Namesday, kupo."
"Heh, thanks." Tarot paused and then carefully pulled his pa into a hug. "Thanks, papa."
![[Image: tumblr_na3nykiJYw1tj8x6po1_400.jpg]](https://31.media.tumblr.com/9aff6ba119629667e6fc2104ce65b848/tumblr_na3nykiJYw1tj8x6po1_400.jpg)
