The God of the Forge (FFVIII, Squall/Rinoa, PG-13, snippet)
The God of the Forge - tentative
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Squall/Rinoa
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A snippet that will not leave my head. May become something larger eventually, but for now...
I can only assume that this is somehow the fault of irish_ais.
Unedited/Unbetaed. Comments welcome.
Summary: The forging of bonds is not easy.
- - -
"Squall?"
He knows it's her, even before he hears her voice; that's why he's hiding, here, tucked way in the back of the Training Center -- not by the Secret Area, no, but the Much More Secret Area that only Garden Headmasters and certain solitary gunbladers know about.
"Squall!"
She comes around the corner. She's covered in sweat and dust and what looks suspiciously like T-Rexaur guts. It probably wasn't really fair of him to leave her alone to face the T-Rexaur by herself, but -- that's the whole point of this training, isn't it?, to strengthen her powers until she can fight on her own?
Powers. They're still trailing off of her, slightly, an evanescent shimmer following her jerky movements like an aura. It exudes from her like sweat, or the scent of her shampoo: something almost crystalline, at the edge of his vision. Crystalline and strawberry.
"I found you," Rinoa says, and sits down beside him. The afterthought of her limit break brushes against his arm; he tries not to twitch.
"I know," he says, and in that word is all of it: I knew you'd find me. You'll always find me. Always. He may or may not be terrified.
Shouldn't he be happy to know he'll never be alone again?
"I took care of it," Rinoa says, and she sounds breathless and eager and smug all at the same time. The statement carries ghosts into his head, and for a moment Squall wonders whether he's imagining Rinoa's translucent form firing spells, or if he's actually seeing it in her mind.
"I know," he says.
Rinoa purses her lips, looking at him thoughtfully -- and he can't pull away, not anymore. "Why'd you leave?" she asks finally -- direct, to the point, blunt as she always is (even now).
Squall says nothing.
"We both know I can handle a T-Rexaur," she continues, slowly, looking at him. "So don't say you buggered off so that I could learn how to fight on my own, or something like that, because I'll know you're making it up." She follows it with a playful jab at his arm, for extra emphasis. Her finger trails light through thick air.
Squall says nothing, and he says nothing for just a moment too long, because Rinoa's eyes light up and she breathes, "So you did feel it."
Squall opens his mouth, and the moment comes out instead -- Rinoa, in his head, a blindingly bright light, warmth and laughter, crystalline and strawberry. Grasping his gunblade, facing the beast, and knowing that behind him stands - not just a girl, but another part of him. Feeling power quaking through his veins -- not-his veins, really, shaking not-his arms and bracing not-his feet -- and the moment before she casts it's like a Thundaga in a rain-storm and he is the lightning-rod.
"Yeah," he says finally, the word blissfully inadequate.
It was a moment, only.
Rinoa smiles, and the air around her lights up with strawberry and sunlight. "Then we're making progress," she says -- and then, sheepishly: "I thought I'd imagined it."
She looks away. I'd been hoping too hard, her aura says.
Squall looks at her, because how can he tell her how absolutely terrifying it is? How, on some levels, the thought of her going through his neatly-categorized mind (folders including "Father Issues", "How to be Thoroughly Abandoned", and "101 New Shrugs") is almost repulsive, it's so scary?
"I know," she says suddenly --
and she's back, the light blinding and he winces at the sudden touch, jerking away.
"Squall," Rinoa says, slowly, oh so very slowly now that the light is gone (and his head feels strangely empty?) -- "Squall, isn't this what we're supposed to be working on?"
Yes, he thinks, but no-one told me it would be this - much.
"Squall."
She glances up, and even through the crystal-aura that makes her more-than (sometimes, Squall thinks she should be a goddess), her eyes are still plain. Brown, and smiling, and slightly teasing him with gold; no more, and no less, than she has always been.
"Trust me," she says. I do not always have to be the Sorceress.
Squall thinks of file-folders, and light, and strawberry shampoo: and says nothing.
He looks at her, and smiles. A little.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Squall/Rinoa
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A snippet that will not leave my head. May become something larger eventually, but for now...
I can only assume that this is somehow the fault of irish_ais.
Unedited/Unbetaed. Comments welcome.
Summary: The forging of bonds is not easy.
- - -
"Squall?"
He knows it's her, even before he hears her voice; that's why he's hiding, here, tucked way in the back of the Training Center -- not by the Secret Area, no, but the Much More Secret Area that only Garden Headmasters and certain solitary gunbladers know about.
"Squall!"
She comes around the corner. She's covered in sweat and dust and what looks suspiciously like T-Rexaur guts. It probably wasn't really fair of him to leave her alone to face the T-Rexaur by herself, but -- that's the whole point of this training, isn't it?, to strengthen her powers until she can fight on her own?
Powers. They're still trailing off of her, slightly, an evanescent shimmer following her jerky movements like an aura. It exudes from her like sweat, or the scent of her shampoo: something almost crystalline, at the edge of his vision. Crystalline and strawberry.
"I found you," Rinoa says, and sits down beside him. The afterthought of her limit break brushes against his arm; he tries not to twitch.
"I know," he says, and in that word is all of it: I knew you'd find me. You'll always find me. Always. He may or may not be terrified.
Shouldn't he be happy to know he'll never be alone again?
"I took care of it," Rinoa says, and she sounds breathless and eager and smug all at the same time. The statement carries ghosts into his head, and for a moment Squall wonders whether he's imagining Rinoa's translucent form firing spells, or if he's actually seeing it in her mind.
"I know," he says.
Rinoa purses her lips, looking at him thoughtfully -- and he can't pull away, not anymore. "Why'd you leave?" she asks finally -- direct, to the point, blunt as she always is (even now).
Squall says nothing.
"We both know I can handle a T-Rexaur," she continues, slowly, looking at him. "So don't say you buggered off so that I could learn how to fight on my own, or something like that, because I'll know you're making it up." She follows it with a playful jab at his arm, for extra emphasis. Her finger trails light through thick air.
Squall says nothing, and he says nothing for just a moment too long, because Rinoa's eyes light up and she breathes, "So you did feel it."
Squall opens his mouth, and the moment comes out instead -- Rinoa, in his head, a blindingly bright light, warmth and laughter, crystalline and strawberry. Grasping his gunblade, facing the beast, and knowing that behind him stands - not just a girl, but another part of him. Feeling power quaking through his veins -- not-his veins, really, shaking not-his arms and bracing not-his feet -- and the moment before she casts it's like a Thundaga in a rain-storm and he is the lightning-rod.
"Yeah," he says finally, the word blissfully inadequate.
It was a moment, only.
Rinoa smiles, and the air around her lights up with strawberry and sunlight. "Then we're making progress," she says -- and then, sheepishly: "I thought I'd imagined it."
She looks away. I'd been hoping too hard, her aura says.
Squall looks at her, because how can he tell her how absolutely terrifying it is? How, on some levels, the thought of her going through his neatly-categorized mind (folders including "Father Issues", "How to be Thoroughly Abandoned", and "101 New Shrugs") is almost repulsive, it's so scary?
"I know," she says suddenly --
and she's back, the light blinding and he winces at the sudden touch, jerking away.
"Squall," Rinoa says, slowly, oh so very slowly now that the light is gone (and his head feels strangely empty?) -- "Squall, isn't this what we're supposed to be working on?"
Yes, he thinks, but no-one told me it would be this - much.
"Squall."
She glances up, and even through the crystal-aura that makes her more-than (sometimes, Squall thinks she should be a goddess), her eyes are still plain. Brown, and smiling, and slightly teasing him with gold; no more, and no less, than she has always been.
"Trust me," she says. I do not always have to be the Sorceress.
Squall thinks of file-folders, and light, and strawberry shampoo: and says nothing.
He looks at her, and smiles. A little.