Heart of the Lion: Chapter 1
Fandom: Knights of the Old Republic, Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: CRACK. |:
Characters: LSM Revan, Squall Leonheart
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Massive KOTOR spoilers. Also, Squevan is my OTP~
Squall got out of the car and looked over the crash site. Just what had crashed still wasn't very apparent. It had come down like a meteorite, apparently, nearly ploughing into Balamb Town but diverting at the last instant as if piloted by something. So read the initial report he held in his hand, but he read it again as he shut the door.
"Commander." A nod to Quistis was Squall's only reply, and all that Quistis needed, fortunately. She led him to the crash site to see a hulk of metallic ruin, still smoking faintly. That would account for 'as if being piloted.' Obviously an aircraft of some sort, but it would have to be falling from extraordinarily high up... a spacecraft? Perhaps, but only Esthar had that sort of technology... at least as far as anyone knew...
"Survivors?" he asked.
"We haven't even confirmed how it was being piloted," said Quistis with a shake of her head. Squall gave her another single nod, and picked his way carefully down into the crater. The fire crew and police from Balamb were already there, but they made way for the commander of Garden. "It looks like the hatch is here," one of them said, pointing it out. Nod.
He paused, sweeping the ship thoroughly with his sea-grey eyes. This looked nothing like the Ragnarok. Whose was it? No answers out here... he headed inside.
...dear... were there gods? Stars... galaxies... Force... whatever was relevant, Revan cursed it, and winced at the fiery pain in his ribs at the effort of cursing. Right, that was a bad idea. No talking. Healing time.
...no Force.
...well that was just kriffing amazing. What a great day this was becoming! First being shot at by missiles, then a truly spectacular crash, and now he was cut off. Sort of. He knew it was there, dammit, could feel it, he just... couldn't... get to it.
Oh, and he was pinned under his own damn pilot's seat, too. Yeah. Amazing.
Really the only sensible thing to do would be to pass out. Revan was just about to get to that when he felt someone else in the ship, whatever the hell was left of it by this point. If it's Jolee, I might as well die now and save myself the humiliation, he thought dazedly, forgetting in his real physical agony that Jolee was who-knew-how many light years away on Dantooine. But the figure that strode into view was not Jolee. Some man... kid, couldn't be a day over nineteen if that... all in black. "Hey," Revan said weakly.
The kid said nothing. Real good-looking kid, too. Nice eyes. Nice hair. Scar was a nice touch, wonder where he'd got it?
"Can you speak?" The way he spoke--first of all, like he took it for granted that he was going to get a complete answer. And second, that he was sorely regretting the neccesity of saying those three monosyllabic words. The kid was a commander, go figure.
"I could seranade you all night, greyeyes, but that'll have to wait until I come to." And he passed out. About time.
Squall couldn't help it. He simply could not check the reflexive action that brought his palm to his face.
Did this guy... really... just hit on me?
Genre: CRACK. |:
Characters: LSM Revan, Squall Leonheart
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Massive KOTOR spoilers. Also, Squevan is my OTP~
Squall got out of the car and looked over the crash site. Just what had crashed still wasn't very apparent. It had come down like a meteorite, apparently, nearly ploughing into Balamb Town but diverting at the last instant as if piloted by something. So read the initial report he held in his hand, but he read it again as he shut the door.
"Commander." A nod to Quistis was Squall's only reply, and all that Quistis needed, fortunately. She led him to the crash site to see a hulk of metallic ruin, still smoking faintly. That would account for 'as if being piloted.' Obviously an aircraft of some sort, but it would have to be falling from extraordinarily high up... a spacecraft? Perhaps, but only Esthar had that sort of technology... at least as far as anyone knew...
"Survivors?" he asked.
"We haven't even confirmed how it was being piloted," said Quistis with a shake of her head. Squall gave her another single nod, and picked his way carefully down into the crater. The fire crew and police from Balamb were already there, but they made way for the commander of Garden. "It looks like the hatch is here," one of them said, pointing it out. Nod.
He paused, sweeping the ship thoroughly with his sea-grey eyes. This looked nothing like the Ragnarok. Whose was it? No answers out here... he headed inside.
...dear... were there gods? Stars... galaxies... Force... whatever was relevant, Revan cursed it, and winced at the fiery pain in his ribs at the effort of cursing. Right, that was a bad idea. No talking. Healing time.
...no Force.
...well that was just kriffing amazing. What a great day this was becoming! First being shot at by missiles, then a truly spectacular crash, and now he was cut off. Sort of. He knew it was there, dammit, could feel it, he just... couldn't... get to it.
Oh, and he was pinned under his own damn pilot's seat, too. Yeah. Amazing.
Really the only sensible thing to do would be to pass out. Revan was just about to get to that when he felt someone else in the ship, whatever the hell was left of it by this point. If it's Jolee, I might as well die now and save myself the humiliation, he thought dazedly, forgetting in his real physical agony that Jolee was who-knew-how many light years away on Dantooine. But the figure that strode into view was not Jolee. Some man... kid, couldn't be a day over nineteen if that... all in black. "Hey," Revan said weakly.
The kid said nothing. Real good-looking kid, too. Nice eyes. Nice hair. Scar was a nice touch, wonder where he'd got it?
"Can you speak?" The way he spoke--first of all, like he took it for granted that he was going to get a complete answer. And second, that he was sorely regretting the neccesity of saying those three monosyllabic words. The kid was a commander, go figure.
"I could seranade you all night, greyeyes, but that'll have to wait until I come to." And he passed out. About time.
Squall couldn't help it. He simply could not check the reflexive action that brought his palm to his face.
Did this guy... really... just hit on me?