the scaffold is high and eternity's near (FFVIII)
Title: the scaffold is high and eternity's near.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Squall
Rating: PG13
Summary: I expected a firing squad, at least. (Seifer, Squall, and the end.)
Notes: FFnet mirror
Shoot, coward. You are only going to kill a man.
-last words of Che Guevera.
--
They hang people in D-District, did you know that? I thought that was a myth, the stuff of old stories and the kind of things the history textbooks tell you. I expected a firing squad, at least, a bunch of marksmen who know what they're doing lined up in front of me.
But, nope, they still hang people here. They put you on a platform with a trapdoor, drop a noose around your neck, and watch you beg and scream, then they hit a lever and you fall, wham. If you're lucky, your neck breaks immediately. If you're not, you choke to death, and they won't do you the mercy of a head shot.
They just watch you twitch and flail and piss yourself in the final throes of your life.
Look, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, why the hell did I just get on a train and travel nine hours out here, just to listen to some crappy musings on death and all that shit?
Don't look at me like that. You've always been so easy to read. You're predictable like that.
It's funny, you know. I always thought that I'd outlast you. That someone would shoot you first, or that one day, you wouldn't be there to block a strike and I'd knock your head right off of your shoulders. I've imagined it a few times, you know, killing you instead of just giving you a scar between your eyes. Yeah, it could've played out a hundred different ways, but here we are.
Why didn't I do it? Hm. That's a good question. I hadn't really thought it through too much. I guess it'd be like killing Chickenwuss or Trepe. Didn't seem quite right. Maybe we're too much like brothers; you know, I can beat the shit out of you, but if the neighborhood kids tried it...?
Maybe not. Maybe you just got lucky.
Anyway.
Okay, look, I need you to do something for me-- shut up, just listen for one damn second. I need you to tell Fuj and Rai something. Tell them-- tell them I'm sorry. Not for everything, mind you, because that time I put Grat shit in Rai's bed is still frigging hi-larious, but for most of it. I should've been stronger for them. I should've been a better friend.
I shouldn't be in here, talking to you, of all people. Telling you to tell them I'm sorry.
Because it's not like I'm going to apologize to you for what I did. Not at all.
Don't ruin it by saying that. You don't forgive me. You can't wait until I'm twitching from the end of a rope and you can go back to your girlfriend and your job and your normal, boring life without me.
No, wait, come back. Don't fucking leave me here. Call it my dying wish.
You wouldn't deny a man that, would you?
Please.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Seifer, Squall
Rating: PG13
Summary: I expected a firing squad, at least. (Seifer, Squall, and the end.)
Notes: FFnet mirror
Shoot, coward. You are only going to kill a man.
-last words of Che Guevera.
--
They hang people in D-District, did you know that? I thought that was a myth, the stuff of old stories and the kind of things the history textbooks tell you. I expected a firing squad, at least, a bunch of marksmen who know what they're doing lined up in front of me.
But, nope, they still hang people here. They put you on a platform with a trapdoor, drop a noose around your neck, and watch you beg and scream, then they hit a lever and you fall, wham. If you're lucky, your neck breaks immediately. If you're not, you choke to death, and they won't do you the mercy of a head shot.
They just watch you twitch and flail and piss yourself in the final throes of your life.
Look, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, why the hell did I just get on a train and travel nine hours out here, just to listen to some crappy musings on death and all that shit?
Don't look at me like that. You've always been so easy to read. You're predictable like that.
It's funny, you know. I always thought that I'd outlast you. That someone would shoot you first, or that one day, you wouldn't be there to block a strike and I'd knock your head right off of your shoulders. I've imagined it a few times, you know, killing you instead of just giving you a scar between your eyes. Yeah, it could've played out a hundred different ways, but here we are.
Why didn't I do it? Hm. That's a good question. I hadn't really thought it through too much. I guess it'd be like killing Chickenwuss or Trepe. Didn't seem quite right. Maybe we're too much like brothers; you know, I can beat the shit out of you, but if the neighborhood kids tried it...?
Maybe not. Maybe you just got lucky.
Anyway.
Okay, look, I need you to do something for me-- shut up, just listen for one damn second. I need you to tell Fuj and Rai something. Tell them-- tell them I'm sorry. Not for everything, mind you, because that time I put Grat shit in Rai's bed is still frigging hi-larious, but for most of it. I should've been stronger for them. I should've been a better friend.
I shouldn't be in here, talking to you, of all people. Telling you to tell them I'm sorry.
Because it's not like I'm going to apologize to you for what I did. Not at all.
Don't ruin it by saying that. You don't forgive me. You can't wait until I'm twitching from the end of a rope and you can go back to your girlfriend and your job and your normal, boring life without me.
No, wait, come back. Don't fucking leave me here. Call it my dying wish.
You wouldn't deny a man that, would you?
Please.