#5!
Subject: Final Fantasy VIII
Character/Pairing: Seifer Almasy
Themes: #5 - "I'm as holy as can be."
Rating: PG (mild language... very mild)
Warnings: Enter the cute to end all cute. Any dentistry needed after this ain't my fault.
Past: Keep 'em all listed here. Am too lazy to link individuals now.
A number of things seemed to be happening all at once in the middle of the street just ahead. Of course, it probably just seemed that way because Seifer’s head was pounding. The hangover made it hard to concentrate on things.
There were people working on the buildings - yep, hammers were definitely being used.
Wham! Wham! Bang! Wham!
Pound. Pound. Ouch. Pound.
Seifer muttered a bitter curse under his breath and moved his hand to the holster under his coat. The familiar grip of the Hyperion calmed him somewhat. Hey, if it got any worse he always had the means to cut his head off nearby.
As he drew closer he could see that the commotion in the middle of the street in front of him was semi-coordinated. Well, it would be if mobs of people could be thought to ever be coordinated. A dozen or more people were crowded around in a circle, talking loudly and animatedly. From the middle of the crowd a small pathetic mewling rose up over the babble. Every so often it would squeak loudly and the crowd, moving as one, would jump back several feet. The conversation level would rise and then they’d all slowly creep back in for a closer look again.
Seifer paused and watched this process repeat itself (whimper, squeak, jump, shuffle) three times before curiosity overcame the headache from hell and he moved in for a closer look himself.
The crowd surrounded... well, one had to call it a cage for lack of a better word. It had been hastily thrown together with scrap bits of metal and gave off the general appearance of a cage on the verge of falling in on itself. The fact that the crowd was standing so close to it said a lot about the brain power of mob mentality. People were stupid.
The cage contained on small, clearly not yet fully-grown ruby dragon. It was mewling and whining pathetically and gazing around the crowd with worried yellow eyes. One of the men standing next to the cage held a long black stick in his hand. As Seifer pushed his way to the front of the mass, the man prodded the rod through the scrap metal bars of the cage and poked the creature. The rod sizzled and sparked and the dragon squeaked in pain and jumped away, a little bit of fire shooting from its mouth. On cue, the crowd jumped away.
“I’ll be damned,” Seifer growled, shoving his way through the last of the front liners. “Somebody caught a baby. Yeah, that takes some real skill there.”
“What would you know about it?” the man with the rod snapped back.
Seifer glanced down at the baby dragon in the cage. He frowned a bit. For a monster, the thing looked... pathetic for one. Seifer wasn’t a fan of pathetic-ness, but it also had this... spark in it’s yellowed eye. Something not quite human, but intelligent enough. It went “Marrrrowl?” at him.
Very strange.
He shook his head and turned his attention back to the man with the rod. “More than you,” he said almost nonchalantly. It was a statement of fact; he thought, not something important enough to brag about. Anyone dumb enough to trap a ruby dragon - even a baby one - in a cage that was falling apart at the seams and then proceed to prod it with an electrically charged stick wasn’t really intelligent enough to lord bragging rights over.
Seifer did have standards after all.
The dragon hiccupped and spouted a flare that singed the metal. Some of it melted. Ah, Seifer thought, it is only a matter of time before the bugger breaks out.
The crowd had jumped, but by now Seifer wasn’t paying any attention to them. He was locked in stare down with the apparent captor. The man had grit his teeth instead of saying anything and Seifer cocked an eyebrow after a moment. “So what do you plan on doing with it?”
“Thought we’d open up a zoo!” someone from the back called and there was general, though sporadic and rather unsure sniggering from the rest of the mob.
The man with the rod sniggered too. “Yeah, that’s an idea. First dragon in captivity! We’ll probably have a breeze taming one as young as this.”
“Yep,” Seifer agreed, suddenly smiling broadly. It was a sign to anyone who knew him well that all hell was about to break loose. He reached out and gave the man a jovial slap on the shoulder. “That my friend is an excellent idea. Just think of how useful a dragon like this could be when it’s fully-grown. I mean, they’re just stupid monsters - lookit him!” By now his one hand was slipping under his coat and his fingers grasped the hilt of his gunblade. “When he’s all grown up he’ll think of you as... oh, I dunno, that tiny asshole who used to shock me with a stick and hey! I could each eat for lunch now.
The smile widened a bit more. “And then he burns down the cage and you’re shish-kabob. Good thinking genius. Even better! What if some jackass turns up and does this.” The gunblade came free from the holster in a fluid, split second move. He brought it up so everyone could see it and then...
“What are you doing?! Are you CRAZY!?”
Seifer laughed. He laughed like had the night before on the deck of the ship. Madly. “Yeeeep!” The gunblade arced down and gracefully sheered through a weaker joint in the cage. One side fell away and the dragon bounded out, yipping happily.
The crowd did what any normal, mentally impaired crowd did in the presence of a “WILD DRAGON!”
It fled, but not before running over each other, hitting, kicking and screaming. When it was all over the street was empty and Seifer glanced around. Even the man with the rod had run off. Chickenshit.
“Marow?” Something was rubbing up against his leg.
He looked down at the dragon. “Yeah yeah you’re welcome. Exit’s that way.” He pointed with the Hyperion. “Get movin’.”
The critter looked in that direction, then at the gunblade, then back up at Seifer. “Arrrroow!” it squealed happily and nuzzled Seifer’s leg again. He sighed. “You fail to understand here. I’m telling you to go away now. I have a headache.” The dragon was busy making happy sounds and being kittenish. Clearly, it did not speak English. He tried nudging it. “Go away.”
Nothing doing. The stupid thing nuzzled up to him again. Seifer sighed. So much for that nice cold shower and the long dead sleep. Right then. “Fine. This way, let’s go.” He started to march away from the dismantled cage to the edge of town with the little dragon following him like a puppy. “Now I remember why I decided to join the bad guys,” he muttered sullenly. Never mind that he’d thought they were the good guys at the time. Details, details. Still... “Sure, Squall’s a hero and he gets laid. I’m a hero and I get a glorified matchstick.”
“Mar-grooooo-teee-groooooow!”
“Shut up.”
Character/Pairing: Seifer Almasy
Themes: #5 - "I'm as holy as can be."
Rating: PG (mild language... very mild)
Warnings: Enter the cute to end all cute. Any dentistry needed after this ain't my fault.
Past: Keep 'em all listed here. Am too lazy to link individuals now.
A number of things seemed to be happening all at once in the middle of the street just ahead. Of course, it probably just seemed that way because Seifer’s head was pounding. The hangover made it hard to concentrate on things.
There were people working on the buildings - yep, hammers were definitely being used.
Wham! Wham! Bang! Wham!
Pound. Pound. Ouch. Pound.
Seifer muttered a bitter curse under his breath and moved his hand to the holster under his coat. The familiar grip of the Hyperion calmed him somewhat. Hey, if it got any worse he always had the means to cut his head off nearby.
As he drew closer he could see that the commotion in the middle of the street in front of him was semi-coordinated. Well, it would be if mobs of people could be thought to ever be coordinated. A dozen or more people were crowded around in a circle, talking loudly and animatedly. From the middle of the crowd a small pathetic mewling rose up over the babble. Every so often it would squeak loudly and the crowd, moving as one, would jump back several feet. The conversation level would rise and then they’d all slowly creep back in for a closer look again.
Seifer paused and watched this process repeat itself (whimper, squeak, jump, shuffle) three times before curiosity overcame the headache from hell and he moved in for a closer look himself.
The crowd surrounded... well, one had to call it a cage for lack of a better word. It had been hastily thrown together with scrap bits of metal and gave off the general appearance of a cage on the verge of falling in on itself. The fact that the crowd was standing so close to it said a lot about the brain power of mob mentality. People were stupid.
The cage contained on small, clearly not yet fully-grown ruby dragon. It was mewling and whining pathetically and gazing around the crowd with worried yellow eyes. One of the men standing next to the cage held a long black stick in his hand. As Seifer pushed his way to the front of the mass, the man prodded the rod through the scrap metal bars of the cage and poked the creature. The rod sizzled and sparked and the dragon squeaked in pain and jumped away, a little bit of fire shooting from its mouth. On cue, the crowd jumped away.
“I’ll be damned,” Seifer growled, shoving his way through the last of the front liners. “Somebody caught a baby. Yeah, that takes some real skill there.”
“What would you know about it?” the man with the rod snapped back.
Seifer glanced down at the baby dragon in the cage. He frowned a bit. For a monster, the thing looked... pathetic for one. Seifer wasn’t a fan of pathetic-ness, but it also had this... spark in it’s yellowed eye. Something not quite human, but intelligent enough. It went “Marrrrowl?” at him.
Very strange.
He shook his head and turned his attention back to the man with the rod. “More than you,” he said almost nonchalantly. It was a statement of fact; he thought, not something important enough to brag about. Anyone dumb enough to trap a ruby dragon - even a baby one - in a cage that was falling apart at the seams and then proceed to prod it with an electrically charged stick wasn’t really intelligent enough to lord bragging rights over.
Seifer did have standards after all.
The dragon hiccupped and spouted a flare that singed the metal. Some of it melted. Ah, Seifer thought, it is only a matter of time before the bugger breaks out.
The crowd had jumped, but by now Seifer wasn’t paying any attention to them. He was locked in stare down with the apparent captor. The man had grit his teeth instead of saying anything and Seifer cocked an eyebrow after a moment. “So what do you plan on doing with it?”
“Thought we’d open up a zoo!” someone from the back called and there was general, though sporadic and rather unsure sniggering from the rest of the mob.
The man with the rod sniggered too. “Yeah, that’s an idea. First dragon in captivity! We’ll probably have a breeze taming one as young as this.”
“Yep,” Seifer agreed, suddenly smiling broadly. It was a sign to anyone who knew him well that all hell was about to break loose. He reached out and gave the man a jovial slap on the shoulder. “That my friend is an excellent idea. Just think of how useful a dragon like this could be when it’s fully-grown. I mean, they’re just stupid monsters - lookit him!” By now his one hand was slipping under his coat and his fingers grasped the hilt of his gunblade. “When he’s all grown up he’ll think of you as... oh, I dunno, that tiny asshole who used to shock me with a stick and hey! I could each eat for lunch now.
The smile widened a bit more. “And then he burns down the cage and you’re shish-kabob. Good thinking genius. Even better! What if some jackass turns up and does this.” The gunblade came free from the holster in a fluid, split second move. He brought it up so everyone could see it and then...
“What are you doing?! Are you CRAZY!?”
Seifer laughed. He laughed like had the night before on the deck of the ship. Madly. “Yeeeep!” The gunblade arced down and gracefully sheered through a weaker joint in the cage. One side fell away and the dragon bounded out, yipping happily.
The crowd did what any normal, mentally impaired crowd did in the presence of a “WILD DRAGON!”
It fled, but not before running over each other, hitting, kicking and screaming. When it was all over the street was empty and Seifer glanced around. Even the man with the rod had run off. Chickenshit.
“Marow?” Something was rubbing up against his leg.
He looked down at the dragon. “Yeah yeah you’re welcome. Exit’s that way.” He pointed with the Hyperion. “Get movin’.”
The critter looked in that direction, then at the gunblade, then back up at Seifer. “Arrrroow!” it squealed happily and nuzzled Seifer’s leg again. He sighed. “You fail to understand here. I’m telling you to go away now. I have a headache.” The dragon was busy making happy sounds and being kittenish. Clearly, it did not speak English. He tried nudging it. “Go away.”
Nothing doing. The stupid thing nuzzled up to him again. Seifer sighed. So much for that nice cold shower and the long dead sleep. Right then. “Fine. This way, let’s go.” He started to march away from the dismantled cage to the edge of town with the little dragon following him like a puppy. “Now I remember why I decided to join the bad guys,” he muttered sullenly. Never mind that he’d thought they were the good guys at the time. Details, details. Still... “Sure, Squall’s a hero and he gets laid. I’m a hero and I get a glorified matchstick.”
“Mar-grooooo-teee-groooooow!”
“Shut up.”