Quistis/Rinoa : Envy
Notes: This is for part of my Quistis/Rinoa challenge: over 1000 words for each piece, and all pieces should connect into an arc. Since I'm connecting them, the relationship will probably take a while to develop, hence no hard-core yuri action just yet (I can't wait to write that from work WHAT A LOSER I AM).
Title: Envy
For: fated_children, Q/R
Themes: (21) Wishful thinking; (22) Hero worship; (52) Longing; (77) Contrast
Relationship: Quistis/Rinoa; challenge
Rating: K+
Warnings: none (no action just yet XP)
Words: 1071
Summary: Each is the other’s idol, secretly.
The seminar is over, but Rinoa’s notepad is blissfully blank; she knows she should have taken notes but she spent the entire hour watching Quistis. Somehow she can’t help it: Instructor Trepe is so different from the Quistis she’s seen on the battlefield, all sleek and professional and shiny, and yet they are still the same categorical mind and the same whip-like reflex and it’s a contrast Rinoa has lost herself in. Quistis is multi-faceted. She can’t stop watching Quistis teach, and she’s been in every one of the seminars so far - and she has yet to take any notes, though she comes in every day with the notepad, like it’s a disguise.
This time she may not escape: Rinoa sat a little too long, still pondering while the other students left; and now Quistis is walking towards her with her blonde hair all straight and shining like gold, and brilliant eyes behind those thin wire glasses, and Rinoa has been caught in her hero worship. It’s probably obvious.
It’s mostly that Quistis is everything Rinoa has never been: overly mature, professionally formal and careful, emotionally detached - prim and proper and perfect. Rinoa is impetuous and exuberant and silly, and spends her time stumbling around in her emotions and acting before she thinks. She’s never felt as wanting as she does when she’s around Quistis. Quistis is the bossy older sister she never had and never knew she wanted to be like.
And Rinoa can’t decide what she wants to do more: one side of her is longing to tuck her own hair up in a bun, don a sleek suit and see whether it works; the other side wants to reach out and muss Quistis’s hair, pull out that barrette and pull the Instructor down to her own level. Sometimes Rinoa longs to be like Quistis; sometimes she longs to reach out and break the glass and see whether Quistis is like her.
“Hi, Rinoa.” Even Quistis’s smile is formal and polite; she smiles while Rinoa grins. “You seem to be enjoying this seminar series; I’ve seen you at all my talks.”
“Oh,” Rinoa replies, and grins, because Quistis has noticed her, and now she feels like a stalker. “You know Cid talked me into talking at the next series, so I’m just trying to get caught up on all the meanings and stuff so I don’t look like an idiot Sorceress when I use all the wrong words and babble like a moron.”
“The SeeD vocabulary and terminology for magical protocol can be complicated,” Quistis replies, and that’s just it: Quistis can say in a handful of words what it takes Rinoa seven sentences to convey. Quistis also uses more syllables.
“Maybe you can help me?” Rinoa blurts out before she even thinks about it. It’s embarrassing, yes, but it’s Quistis, who only knows how to embarrass herself. And she can’t ask Squall because Squall won’t help at all; she’s found the hard way that Squall is a horrendously bad teacher. He spits out curt little sentences and then gets angry and frustrated when Rinoa asks too many questions, which apparently is always. She wonders briefly if Quistis can tell how lonely she is; and if not, whether she wants to tell.
Quistis smiles again, but this time it’s a real smile, a sisterly smile, and Rinoa is so intrigued because now Quistis actually looks affectionate. “Of course,” she says, glancing at her watch. “You can always ask. Do you want to talk now?”
Rinoa knows she shouldn’t be this thrilled, but she’s been watching Quistis in action for so long and so she says “That’d be great,” and means it until she realizes she’s left all the notes from Cid in her room and she has nothing on her notepad and she’s just blown her own cover.
Quistis saves her, inadvertently. “Why don’t you meet me in the teacher’s lounge?” she asks as she glances at her watch again. “I need to stop down at the Cafeteria, I’m famished - would you like anything?” And there’s that smile, the older-sister one, and Rinoa blushes. Only Quistis can use a word like famished and get away with it.
“That’s perfect, really, cause I left some stuff in my room,” Rinoa says quickly, grinning again. “Lemme run and get it, and I’ll meet you there.” She turns to leave, and Quistis’s hand is on her arm, and she turns around a little too quickly and she’s blushing again.
“Can I get you something?” Quistis repeats.
“Um,” she stammers - why is she always this flustered around Quistis? “Just a sandwich or something, that’d be great, I appreciate it.” And she smiles upwards.
Quistis realizes her hand is still resting delicately on Rinoa’s arm, and she lifts it and gives what she hopes comes across as a playful wave as she turns to go. She always feels so old around Rinoa. Rinoa is everything she’s never allowed herself to be: playful, relaxed, casual and candid. There are no sides to Rinoa: she simply is, with her heart on her sleeve and her straightforward honesty. Sometimes she longs to be like Rinoa and she doesn’t know why: mostly because the girl seems so happy.
Never lonely, never cold. It’s wishful thinking, for Quistis. It’s probably obvious. Rinoa has friends, and she has Squall, and she has a sparkling and bubbly personality, and Quistis has always been jealous, even when it was no longer about Squall. She’s always been attracted to Rinoa, almost in a physical sense, which scares her a little bit; but she assumes it’s simply the force of Rinoa’s personality, that urge to reach out and touch her.
She’s different than anything Quistis has ever seen. Rinoa was not raised to be a killer: she chose her life in the resistance. Quistis has always assumed her military training put a damper on - on something, some sort of sparkle and life in her own personality that must have been there because otherwise it’s just not fair and she really is a frumpy old Instructor deep down inside.
Sometimes Quistis longs to be Rinoa: to throw off the walls and the prim behaviour and tell the world just what she thinks of it. She can’t. But even just being with Rinoa is almost-good enough - because somehow, perhaps, some of that might rub off when she brushes her fingers along her arm.
Title: Envy
For: fated_children, Q/R
Themes: (21) Wishful thinking; (22) Hero worship; (52) Longing; (77) Contrast
Relationship: Quistis/Rinoa; challenge
Rating: K+
Warnings: none (no action just yet XP)
Words: 1071
Summary: Each is the other’s idol, secretly.
The seminar is over, but Rinoa’s notepad is blissfully blank; she knows she should have taken notes but she spent the entire hour watching Quistis. Somehow she can’t help it: Instructor Trepe is so different from the Quistis she’s seen on the battlefield, all sleek and professional and shiny, and yet they are still the same categorical mind and the same whip-like reflex and it’s a contrast Rinoa has lost herself in. Quistis is multi-faceted. She can’t stop watching Quistis teach, and she’s been in every one of the seminars so far - and she has yet to take any notes, though she comes in every day with the notepad, like it’s a disguise.
This time she may not escape: Rinoa sat a little too long, still pondering while the other students left; and now Quistis is walking towards her with her blonde hair all straight and shining like gold, and brilliant eyes behind those thin wire glasses, and Rinoa has been caught in her hero worship. It’s probably obvious.
It’s mostly that Quistis is everything Rinoa has never been: overly mature, professionally formal and careful, emotionally detached - prim and proper and perfect. Rinoa is impetuous and exuberant and silly, and spends her time stumbling around in her emotions and acting before she thinks. She’s never felt as wanting as she does when she’s around Quistis. Quistis is the bossy older sister she never had and never knew she wanted to be like.
And Rinoa can’t decide what she wants to do more: one side of her is longing to tuck her own hair up in a bun, don a sleek suit and see whether it works; the other side wants to reach out and muss Quistis’s hair, pull out that barrette and pull the Instructor down to her own level. Sometimes Rinoa longs to be like Quistis; sometimes she longs to reach out and break the glass and see whether Quistis is like her.
“Hi, Rinoa.” Even Quistis’s smile is formal and polite; she smiles while Rinoa grins. “You seem to be enjoying this seminar series; I’ve seen you at all my talks.”
“Oh,” Rinoa replies, and grins, because Quistis has noticed her, and now she feels like a stalker. “You know Cid talked me into talking at the next series, so I’m just trying to get caught up on all the meanings and stuff so I don’t look like an idiot Sorceress when I use all the wrong words and babble like a moron.”
“The SeeD vocabulary and terminology for magical protocol can be complicated,” Quistis replies, and that’s just it: Quistis can say in a handful of words what it takes Rinoa seven sentences to convey. Quistis also uses more syllables.
“Maybe you can help me?” Rinoa blurts out before she even thinks about it. It’s embarrassing, yes, but it’s Quistis, who only knows how to embarrass herself. And she can’t ask Squall because Squall won’t help at all; she’s found the hard way that Squall is a horrendously bad teacher. He spits out curt little sentences and then gets angry and frustrated when Rinoa asks too many questions, which apparently is always. She wonders briefly if Quistis can tell how lonely she is; and if not, whether she wants to tell.
Quistis smiles again, but this time it’s a real smile, a sisterly smile, and Rinoa is so intrigued because now Quistis actually looks affectionate. “Of course,” she says, glancing at her watch. “You can always ask. Do you want to talk now?”
Rinoa knows she shouldn’t be this thrilled, but she’s been watching Quistis in action for so long and so she says “That’d be great,” and means it until she realizes she’s left all the notes from Cid in her room and she has nothing on her notepad and she’s just blown her own cover.
Quistis saves her, inadvertently. “Why don’t you meet me in the teacher’s lounge?” she asks as she glances at her watch again. “I need to stop down at the Cafeteria, I’m famished - would you like anything?” And there’s that smile, the older-sister one, and Rinoa blushes. Only Quistis can use a word like famished and get away with it.
“That’s perfect, really, cause I left some stuff in my room,” Rinoa says quickly, grinning again. “Lemme run and get it, and I’ll meet you there.” She turns to leave, and Quistis’s hand is on her arm, and she turns around a little too quickly and she’s blushing again.
“Can I get you something?” Quistis repeats.
“Um,” she stammers - why is she always this flustered around Quistis? “Just a sandwich or something, that’d be great, I appreciate it.” And she smiles upwards.
Quistis realizes her hand is still resting delicately on Rinoa’s arm, and she lifts it and gives what she hopes comes across as a playful wave as she turns to go. She always feels so old around Rinoa. Rinoa is everything she’s never allowed herself to be: playful, relaxed, casual and candid. There are no sides to Rinoa: she simply is, with her heart on her sleeve and her straightforward honesty. Sometimes she longs to be like Rinoa and she doesn’t know why: mostly because the girl seems so happy.
Never lonely, never cold. It’s wishful thinking, for Quistis. It’s probably obvious. Rinoa has friends, and she has Squall, and she has a sparkling and bubbly personality, and Quistis has always been jealous, even when it was no longer about Squall. She’s always been attracted to Rinoa, almost in a physical sense, which scares her a little bit; but she assumes it’s simply the force of Rinoa’s personality, that urge to reach out and touch her.
She’s different than anything Quistis has ever seen. Rinoa was not raised to be a killer: she chose her life in the resistance. Quistis has always assumed her military training put a damper on - on something, some sort of sparkle and life in her own personality that must have been there because otherwise it’s just not fair and she really is a frumpy old Instructor deep down inside.
Sometimes Quistis longs to be Rinoa: to throw off the walls and the prim behaviour and tell the world just what she thinks of it. She can’t. But even just being with Rinoa is almost-good enough - because somehow, perhaps, some of that might rub off when she brushes her fingers along her arm.