Enter Quistis. [Completed]
Character(s): Quistis Trepe, Rei Ayanami
Content: Quistis enters the city of Paixao, and meets a stranger. Mass confusion ensues.
Setting: Vanaheim. [F3]
Time: Monday evening.
Warnings: Notta one.
Quistis inhaled, telling herself that this was not the end of the world. The Garden faculty could be calling this "emergency meeting" for a billion reasons other than her students' recent SeeD exam scores. There were more important things.
She shook her head at the mirror she stood before and watched her own reflection for a bit, meanwhile mentally preparing herself. She could do this, she could do this, she could stand up to the staff and tell them that it wasn't her fault they threw every problem student into her classroom. She could tell them that she did everything in her power to save these kids, that most times she actually managed to do it, but that some are just so beyond help...
Quistis leaned forward. Or at least, she thought she did, but her reflection didn't seem to want to. Rather, it leaned slightly back and crossed its arms, smiling in a manner all too familiar to the non-reflection-Quistis. The real thing placed a hand to the mirror and, with wide eyes, realized that it was not glass as she expected, but somewhat pliable. The harder she pushed, the more the reflective material beneath her palm gave way.
And her reflection just nodded at her, stepping backwards and beckoning for its originator to continue.
This was probably a bad idea. She'd been trained on how to handle weird, unexpected things similar to this -- but never, well, this. She thought about calling for help, that would be the logical thing to do, but her reflection looked so inviting. And if she could trust anyone, it was herself.
...right?
Squeezing her eyes shut, Quistis promised herself that this wasn't a mistake. She placed both her hands on the not-exactly-a-mirror-anymore mirror, and pushed.
Hardly a split second later, Quistis walked into someone. The person twitched a little and murmured a less-than-sincere apology, leaving Quistis to stare at her surroundings -- decidedly not Balamb Garden's 2F Bathroom.
What on earth...
Quistis raised her hands, palms facing the sky, and blinked dumbly. What just happened -- very obviously -- could not have happened at all. Which meant that she was hallucinating(rather vividly) or that the mirror-that-wasn't really was a mistake. Someone nudged her and politely asked her to move forward. She blinked slowly at him, then turned in the other direction to see a long line. Nodding absently, she closed the distance between her and the next person, quite without thinking. She felt like she had no other option but to just go with it.
Because really, what else could she do?
She reached the front of the line before she could formulate a plausible answer to that question, and a man at a booth there rather briskly requested her name.
After a moment's hesitation, she offered, "Quistis Trepe."
In the same brusque manner, the man handed her a plethora of pamphlets and one particularly bulky item, and then he ushered her in, with a curt, "Keep the line moving, ma'am."
So she entered the gates, staring in amazement at the world before her. Everything about it made her think that perhaps she was merely trapped in a particularly life-like dream. But no, this was too real. The weight of the things in her hand, the ground beneath her feet, the scent of the place were most certainly there. She was in touch enough with her senses to know that this had to be real.
And that was so much more frightening than the alternative.
She stepped forward uncertainly and began to walk -- to who knows where. Not until she found a bench did she stop and begin to fumble through the things the man handed her. She was bothered by the presence of several colorful pamphlets, like this was some sort of a vacation! The bulky item, however, she took an acute interest in. When she opened it, she was surprised to find a screen and keyboard. Experimentally, she plunked on a few keys and tried to get it to respond. Nothing happened, of course, so she simply closed it and tucked it under her arm.
Resignedly, she tilted her head back. She slid her eyes closed and said aloud, to anyone or anything at all, "Help?"
Content: Quistis enters the city of Paixao, and meets a stranger. Mass confusion ensues.
Setting: Vanaheim. [F3]
Time: Monday evening.
Warnings: Notta one.
Quistis inhaled, telling herself that this was not the end of the world. The Garden faculty could be calling this "emergency meeting" for a billion reasons other than her students' recent SeeD exam scores. There were more important things.
She shook her head at the mirror she stood before and watched her own reflection for a bit, meanwhile mentally preparing herself. She could do this, she could do this, she could stand up to the staff and tell them that it wasn't her fault they threw every problem student into her classroom. She could tell them that she did everything in her power to save these kids, that most times she actually managed to do it, but that some are just so beyond help...
Quistis leaned forward. Or at least, she thought she did, but her reflection didn't seem to want to. Rather, it leaned slightly back and crossed its arms, smiling in a manner all too familiar to the non-reflection-Quistis. The real thing placed a hand to the mirror and, with wide eyes, realized that it was not glass as she expected, but somewhat pliable. The harder she pushed, the more the reflective material beneath her palm gave way.
And her reflection just nodded at her, stepping backwards and beckoning for its originator to continue.
This was probably a bad idea. She'd been trained on how to handle weird, unexpected things similar to this -- but never, well, this. She thought about calling for help, that would be the logical thing to do, but her reflection looked so inviting. And if she could trust anyone, it was herself.
...right?
Squeezing her eyes shut, Quistis promised herself that this wasn't a mistake. She placed both her hands on the not-exactly-a-mirror-anymore mirror, and pushed.
Hardly a split second later, Quistis walked into someone. The person twitched a little and murmured a less-than-sincere apology, leaving Quistis to stare at her surroundings -- decidedly not Balamb Garden's 2F Bathroom.
What on earth...
Quistis raised her hands, palms facing the sky, and blinked dumbly. What just happened -- very obviously -- could not have happened at all. Which meant that she was hallucinating(rather vividly) or that the mirror-that-wasn't really was a mistake. Someone nudged her and politely asked her to move forward. She blinked slowly at him, then turned in the other direction to see a long line. Nodding absently, she closed the distance between her and the next person, quite without thinking. She felt like she had no other option but to just go with it.
Because really, what else could she do?
She reached the front of the line before she could formulate a plausible answer to that question, and a man at a booth there rather briskly requested her name.
After a moment's hesitation, she offered, "Quistis Trepe."
In the same brusque manner, the man handed her a plethora of pamphlets and one particularly bulky item, and then he ushered her in, with a curt, "Keep the line moving, ma'am."
So she entered the gates, staring in amazement at the world before her. Everything about it made her think that perhaps she was merely trapped in a particularly life-like dream. But no, this was too real. The weight of the things in her hand, the ground beneath her feet, the scent of the place were most certainly there. She was in touch enough with her senses to know that this had to be real.
And that was so much more frightening than the alternative.
She stepped forward uncertainly and began to walk -- to who knows where. Not until she found a bench did she stop and begin to fumble through the things the man handed her. She was bothered by the presence of several colorful pamphlets, like this was some sort of a vacation! The bulky item, however, she took an acute interest in. When she opened it, she was surprised to find a screen and keyboard. Experimentally, she plunked on a few keys and tried to get it to respond. Nothing happened, of course, so she simply closed it and tucked it under her arm.
Resignedly, she tilted her head back. She slid her eyes closed and said aloud, to anyone or anything at all, "Help?"