More random ficlets
A Little Less Conversation
Seifer liked to talk. So did Zell, but Seifer liked to talk in prose, describe dreams and legends, lose himself in wars within and without.
No one listened to him, though.
“What are you talking about?” Seifer drawled. “Squally-boy never shuts up. Didn’t you notice?”
He loved to laugh and talk about Squall’s temper. “Vicious,” he described. “Uncontrollable. He’s going to hurt himself one of these days.”
Quistis actually laughed at that. She understood Squall, you see.
“Pretty boy, lost in the rain,” he said on a sunny day. Zell scoffed. Squall broke Seifer’s nose.
Fu and Raijin listened, but they didn’t get it. Hard to understand unless you stood in battle, listening to the blades whistle and blood flow.
Squall spoke loudest then, but Seifer was the only one who listened.
When Seifer left, no one listened at all.
Gone
Zack had his arms wrapped around Cloud’s waist, yanking Cloud to him. Cloud’s golden spikes were everywhere. Cloud’s mouth was open, laughing. His teeth were very white. Sephiroth stood to one side, his lips quirked the barest hint in an indulgent smile. He had a pink flower in his hand.
Tifa stared at the photograph, mind blank. It was almost like time had stopped, except Avalanche and the Turks were still rummaging through the boxes, making sure there was nothing else that would come out and try to kill them later. She thought she saw Reno pocket something out of the corner of her eye, but that wasn’t a surprise.
Tifa slipped the photograph into her own pocket, and that did surprise her.
They all looked very young in that picture.
Maybe she would finally find her understanding there.
Good-bye
The Goddesses, in Their compassion and wisdom, usually birthed the Hero to those soon to die.
Sometimes, even with all Their grace and power, they missed a generation.
“No, no, please…”
Link had never seen his mother cry. Even as the shadow grew over the land and hope dwindled, he had never seen her weep.
She reached for him now, but he was already swinging his leg over Epona’s back. If she touched him, he might stop.
His father reached her first and pulled her against his chest. She wept and -- the Goddesses help Link -- so did his father.
The dreams had drove them to this point, dreams and whispers of a princess he had never seen. They all knew the tales, the omens.
But the Hero was an orphan in them all.
“I love you,” Link said in lieu of a promise.
“Come home,” they replied, in lieu of telling him to be brave. Who needed to tell the Hero to be brave, after all?
Link would have preferred it. They all knew he wasn’t coming home.
The Goddesses usually bade orphans to pick up the Master Sword for a reason.
Lost
Tifa hated it when Barrett made some reference to Cloud’s lost love. She hated it more when everyone nodded in agreement. She hated it most when the stories of that epic love made the rounds through Midgar, Junon, Gaia.
If she opened her mouth, there would be pity. After all, everyone knew she loved Cloud as well. Their epic love was supposed to end the tale of the heroes.
If anyone actually listened to her, she might have said it was because Cloud’s epic love was never Aeris. When Cloud actually drank enough to get drunk, he would talk about ZackZackZack, about his pranks and his laugh and how many times Cloud had to save his life.
That always made Cloud cry, but that part never entered the legends.
If Cloud asked her, she would have told him the truth, how Aeris had mentioned how Cloud would be open to a threesome and she had flinched away. She, a ‘legendary’ fighter, had fled like a chocobo with its tail feathers on fire.
She would tell Cloud about how Aeris came to her later and put her hand on her thigh and made another, quieter offer.
And how Tifa had turned her down.
How Tifa never had another chance to say ‘yes.’
Tifa hated the stories of Cloud’s lost love, because the stories were always wrong. They didn’t talk about Zack at all.
And Tifa threw away her chance to create hers and Aeris’ own tale.
End
When Rinoa looked at him and smiled in the starlight, Squall found himself smiling back.
When the sorceress crooked her finger under a shooting star, Squall went to her.
That part of him that was always held back and commented on the situation watched clinically now. Rinoa’s kiss was sweet, chaste even with its hint of tongue. A romantic kiss for a princess.
Squall could have fought a little. He might have been able to clue the others into the fact that something was wrong.
As always, he yielded instead.
A sorceress and her knight. That bitter voice inside him wouldn’t shut up. Fairy tales all around. Dreams accomplished.
Rinoa kissed him one more time and left the balcony to go back to the party. Everyone laughed there. The video camera rolled. They had won. They were triumphant.
Squall looked over the ocean. He had time until she called him again.
This wouldn’t be forever. She would leave him eventually. He didn’t know what would happen after that.
They all left eventually.
“Except you,” he said quietly. “Until you did.”
Seifer, miles below him and picking up his fishing rod, didn’t answer.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/16808.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Seifer liked to talk. So did Zell, but Seifer liked to talk in prose, describe dreams and legends, lose himself in wars within and without.
No one listened to him, though.
“What are you talking about?” Seifer drawled. “Squally-boy never shuts up. Didn’t you notice?”
He loved to laugh and talk about Squall’s temper. “Vicious,” he described. “Uncontrollable. He’s going to hurt himself one of these days.”
Quistis actually laughed at that. She understood Squall, you see.
“Pretty boy, lost in the rain,” he said on a sunny day. Zell scoffed. Squall broke Seifer’s nose.
Fu and Raijin listened, but they didn’t get it. Hard to understand unless you stood in battle, listening to the blades whistle and blood flow.
Squall spoke loudest then, but Seifer was the only one who listened.
When Seifer left, no one listened at all.
Gone
Zack had his arms wrapped around Cloud’s waist, yanking Cloud to him. Cloud’s golden spikes were everywhere. Cloud’s mouth was open, laughing. His teeth were very white. Sephiroth stood to one side, his lips quirked the barest hint in an indulgent smile. He had a pink flower in his hand.
Tifa stared at the photograph, mind blank. It was almost like time had stopped, except Avalanche and the Turks were still rummaging through the boxes, making sure there was nothing else that would come out and try to kill them later. She thought she saw Reno pocket something out of the corner of her eye, but that wasn’t a surprise.
Tifa slipped the photograph into her own pocket, and that did surprise her.
They all looked very young in that picture.
Maybe she would finally find her understanding there.
Good-bye
The Goddesses, in Their compassion and wisdom, usually birthed the Hero to those soon to die.
Sometimes, even with all Their grace and power, they missed a generation.
“No, no, please…”
Link had never seen his mother cry. Even as the shadow grew over the land and hope dwindled, he had never seen her weep.
She reached for him now, but he was already swinging his leg over Epona’s back. If she touched him, he might stop.
His father reached her first and pulled her against his chest. She wept and -- the Goddesses help Link -- so did his father.
The dreams had drove them to this point, dreams and whispers of a princess he had never seen. They all knew the tales, the omens.
But the Hero was an orphan in them all.
“I love you,” Link said in lieu of a promise.
“Come home,” they replied, in lieu of telling him to be brave. Who needed to tell the Hero to be brave, after all?
Link would have preferred it. They all knew he wasn’t coming home.
The Goddesses usually bade orphans to pick up the Master Sword for a reason.
Lost
Tifa hated it when Barrett made some reference to Cloud’s lost love. She hated it more when everyone nodded in agreement. She hated it most when the stories of that epic love made the rounds through Midgar, Junon, Gaia.
If she opened her mouth, there would be pity. After all, everyone knew she loved Cloud as well. Their epic love was supposed to end the tale of the heroes.
If anyone actually listened to her, she might have said it was because Cloud’s epic love was never Aeris. When Cloud actually drank enough to get drunk, he would talk about ZackZackZack, about his pranks and his laugh and how many times Cloud had to save his life.
That always made Cloud cry, but that part never entered the legends.
If Cloud asked her, she would have told him the truth, how Aeris had mentioned how Cloud would be open to a threesome and she had flinched away. She, a ‘legendary’ fighter, had fled like a chocobo with its tail feathers on fire.
She would tell Cloud about how Aeris came to her later and put her hand on her thigh and made another, quieter offer.
And how Tifa had turned her down.
How Tifa never had another chance to say ‘yes.’
Tifa hated the stories of Cloud’s lost love, because the stories were always wrong. They didn’t talk about Zack at all.
And Tifa threw away her chance to create hers and Aeris’ own tale.
End
When Rinoa looked at him and smiled in the starlight, Squall found himself smiling back.
When the sorceress crooked her finger under a shooting star, Squall went to her.
That part of him that was always held back and commented on the situation watched clinically now. Rinoa’s kiss was sweet, chaste even with its hint of tongue. A romantic kiss for a princess.
Squall could have fought a little. He might have been able to clue the others into the fact that something was wrong.
As always, he yielded instead.
A sorceress and her knight. That bitter voice inside him wouldn’t shut up. Fairy tales all around. Dreams accomplished.
Rinoa kissed him one more time and left the balcony to go back to the party. Everyone laughed there. The video camera rolled. They had won. They were triumphant.
Squall looked over the ocean. He had time until she called him again.
This wouldn’t be forever. She would leave him eventually. He didn’t know what would happen after that.
They all left eventually.
“Except you,” he said quietly. “Until you did.”
Seifer, miles below him and picking up his fishing rod, didn’t answer.
This entry was originally posted at http://tir-synni.dreamwidth.org/16808.html. Please comment there using OpenID.