Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Final Fantasy.
The Letters
Quistis is at her desk, pen in hand, suffering from writer's block. She has been writing to Seifer ever since he moved to Fisherman's Horizon and is finally running out of things to say. She doesn't want their letters to stop – they are one of her only sources of happiness. She is heartbroken over Squall and Rinoa's relationship, even though she should have seen it coming. She has had feelings for Squall ever since she could remember. She was his Instructor, true, but she just could not help herself. It was a weird fantasy of hers to break through the attractive, bad-boy loner's shell. She yearned to see that sensitive side of him. But as it turned out, she wasn't the lucky one.
Now, here she is writing to yet another past student of hers. One who has also been known to stir up some trouble. (Well, a lot of trouble.) She has gotten past basic small talk with him and is unsure of how to express her feelings correctly. His past letters have told her this much: he is single, he has his own little apartment above a bait shop, he has taken up a new obvious hobby, and he is happy for the first time. It was hard to believe Seifer had such a turn-around. She surely wanted to see this change with her own eyes. But she couldn't just invite herself to his place. What to say, what to say?
Dear Seifer,
I am pleased to hear that you are doing so well. As your past Instructor, I always want to see my students prosper in life.
No, no, no, that is all wrong. Not what I'm trying to say at all. What about...
Dear Seifer,
You, me, seven o'clock, your place.
Okay, time to get serious now.
Dear Seifer,
I don't know what to say to you. I can't quite put my thoughts into words on paper.
...
After writing and scratching out thirty-seven introductory sentences, Quistis threw her quill down and gave up for the night. She tucked herself into bed and dreamt of eating seafood.
The next morning, Quistis was feeling more sure of her writing skills. She sat at her desk and stared at the white paper before her. She picked up the quill again, and began writing. This time, she knew exactly what to say.
To be continued!