Rinoa/ Caraway: Old Chains
Title: Old Chains
Claim: Rinoa/Caraway
Rating: G
Prompt: Digging, hidden, the other side (#9, #42, #71)
A/N: Based on the scene between Rinoa/Caraway at Caraway's mansion in Disc 1.
She felt a chill on the back of her neck, that same familiar chill; it was him, she knew it. It had been, what, a year? He hadn't changed, but he could tell from her expression that she certainly had, become something alien to him. Well, a little more a stranger than before.
She was sure Quistis hated her. Not that she had any right to. What did she know? All she saw were the old marble walls, the decorated Father, the sharp defiance in her voice; in one word, spoilt. A spoilt, mean tempered little girl.
This place made her want to cry, to claw at the windows and never look back. But she would always be looking back, glimpsing at him, waiting, waiting for that sad old dream of hers'. Not that she'd ever admit it.
He cleared his voice.
“It'll be chaos out there soon. You'll be safe here.”
She could feel those old, cold metal bars. It's good for you, I know what's right, you're so inexperienced, one of these days you're going to be hurt, do you have a death wish? She had spent so long rattling these old chains off of him, feeling her wings unfurl against the bitter breeze.
A sharp, electronic beep.
“Oh no...he's gonna lock me in!”
She slid her hands against the panel door.
“I...I can't do it.”
She let her cheek rest against the door, imagining the other side, the chains biting slowly into her wrists and tightening, tightening, slowly, slowly.
Claim: Rinoa/Caraway
Rating: G
Prompt: Digging, hidden, the other side (#9, #42, #71)
A/N: Based on the scene between Rinoa/Caraway at Caraway's mansion in Disc 1.
She felt a chill on the back of her neck, that same familiar chill; it was him, she knew it. It had been, what, a year? He hadn't changed, but he could tell from her expression that she certainly had, become something alien to him. Well, a little more a stranger than before.
She was sure Quistis hated her. Not that she had any right to. What did she know? All she saw were the old marble walls, the decorated Father, the sharp defiance in her voice; in one word, spoilt. A spoilt, mean tempered little girl.
This place made her want to cry, to claw at the windows and never look back. But she would always be looking back, glimpsing at him, waiting, waiting for that sad old dream of hers'. Not that she'd ever admit it.
He cleared his voice.
“It'll be chaos out there soon. You'll be safe here.”
She could feel those old, cold metal bars. It's good for you, I know what's right, you're so inexperienced, one of these days you're going to be hurt, do you have a death wish? She had spent so long rattling these old chains off of him, feeling her wings unfurl against the bitter breeze.
A sharp, electronic beep.
“Oh no...he's gonna lock me in!”
She slid her hands against the panel door.
“I...I can't do it.”
She let her cheek rest against the door, imagining the other side, the chains biting slowly into her wrists and tightening, tightening, slowly, slowly.