Rinoa Heartilly eyed the plate of food before her with a strange fascination. She shoved the peculiar and expensive dinner items around with her fork, debating if it truly was edible. After giving it what she thought to be a thorough inspection, she realized that she lacked the courage to find out.
Her father, General Caraway, was going off about how her reckless and irresponsible behavior was extremely inappropriate for the daughter of a well-regarded general. His loud, booming voice filled in all the empty space in the room, leaving the silence nowhere to hide. If you asked Rinoa, he sounded much more like he was debriefing one of his soldiers than addressing his own daughter. He'd probably prefer that she acted more like one.
Ever since her mother Julia Heartilly had passed away, he demanded absolute perfection from his daughter, and confined her to a strict frame of rules. Yet to his dismay, she possessed the strong resilient will of her mother and grew to have a rebellious streak. She seeked adventure and excitement in her life, but being the daughter of the General of Galbadia, unfortunately making her a social figure, popped any floating dreams of the freedom which she so fervently desired.
She tucked some of her long raven locks behind her ear while she tried her best to concentrate on the monotonous drone of Caraway's voice, but the task was becoming a difficult feat as her attention began to wander after imaginary butterflies. Any attempts at justifying her behavior would only lengthen this already torturous lecture, so she learned the hard way that it was best to keep her lips tightly shut. Doing so was hard at times when she could feel the words ready to shoot from her mouth, holding them in made her feel as if she'd burst open at the seams. To her surprise, Caraway stopped unexpectedly. Rinoa looked to her father with a curious expression etched upon her face. He locked eyes with her, and when he spoke again, the previous heat had vanished from his voice.
"Rinoa," he said, making sure he had her attention. "You know my long time associate Mr. Gillespie, well we've come to an important decision. He has a son about your age who will become a crucial steep hole to the Gillespie Legacy."
Rinoa swallowed hard. She didn't like where this was going.
Caraway resumed, "I told him about you, and we both agree that the Caraways and the Gillespies do indeed go well together. The Gillespie boy seems to find you rather lovely, so as your father, and the General of Galbadia, I took it upon myself to arrange a meeting for you two, and am hopeful towards an engagement. It'd truly be a wise decision for the both of you."
The young woman felt a sweltering heat rush through her veins. Rising to her feet so quickly her chair nearly crashed to the marble floor, she slammed her hands roughly against the grand oak table.
"More like a wise decision for YOU!" she shouted. Large salty tears streamed down from her chocolate brown eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks.
"There is no way I'm going out with that man, and definitely no way I'm going to marry him! I'm not going to marry some stranger just to improve you 'oh so' damned important reputation!" Her throat began to feel sore at the force of her own shouting.
"Now Rinoa, do calm down." He told her in a tone which she found to be condescending, "You must realize how good this will be. You are the General's daughter, and your bethroved must be someone of high social status. You will do this Rinoa. I'm not asking."
Those last sharply uttered words slashed into her chest like a whip. She was a young woman, how dare he treat her as if she were a mere child?
"You can't make me do this!" she yelled back. "And thank you for bestowing upon me the wonderful gift of being your daughter!" she added on a sarcastic note before angrily storming out of the room while refusing to acknowledge any of Caraway's protests. With extra care, she made sure to slam the heavy dining room door loud enough to make the man's teeth clench.
Rinoa walked briskly along the bustling streets of Deling. The city was infamous for its exciting nightlife. Upon nightfall, all the main streets lit up and all kinds of colorful characters stepped out from their homes and into the night scene.
With her hand she wiped away a few stray tears from her cheeks.
"That stupid, stupid old man!" she thought.
The walk had managed to soothe her heated temper, but it failed to sooth the hurt still fresh in her heart.
She felt a slight chill and began to rub her bare arms; she then realized she must look sort of odd to all the passersby. She was dressed in a bright colored off-white dress that went to her knees, along with matching high heels. She wished she'd brought a coat as she felt another shiver pass through her body.
Suddenly she noticed some music playing in the distance. There was the loud pound of drums and the steady strum of a guitar. Upon walking a bit farther she saw a well-sized crowd gathered around a stage. She realized she was at the local park where all the local bands came out to play. The blaring rock music rang in her ears, and as if bewitched, she felt compelled to get closer to the source. Carefully, she weaved her way through the crowd until she was nearer to the stage. The rowdy people right before the stage kept her from getting any closer as they jumped energetically to the shrill screams of the electric guitar, totally absorbed in the music.
A low male voice joined in the melody, as the singer crooned into the mic. Rinoa caught sight of him and could've sworn she felt her heart skip a beat. He was tall with a toned build, dressed in rugged jeans and a black leather jacket. His shaggy brown hair whipped around his face as he swayed to the music, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs. He was Rinoa's dark idol. He was everything she wanted to be. He was a rebel, he was independent; he was free.
His performance was mesmerizing, and Rinoa found herself spellbound. Soon she was as absorbed as the crowd, swaying to the rhythm and hanging off the singer's every uttered word.
The music began to slow to a sort of ballad. The ferocity died from the singer's voice as he stood still and poured his soul into the words. Rinoa stared at him for what felt like a small eternity, and was shocked when she realized he was staring right back. His cool blue-gray eyes were locked onto hers as he sung. It felt as if he were singing to only her, and everyone else in the world had disappeared. She was afraid that if she made a sudden movement, the strange trance between them would be broken, but to her surprise, his gaze never left her. The song came to an end and a new song began abruptly. The guitars awoke with a new life and began their electric screaming. The crowd, once tranquil, started rocking wildly. Rinoa felt herself being pushed farther back into the crowd like a whirlpool, so she made a hasty retreat to the safe outskirts of the audience. The handsome singer was back to shouting out the lyrics with intensity while he prowled the stage, sending the crowd into an excited frenzy. She found herself wondering if he noticed she was gone. "Unlikely." But for some reason the thought was tinged with disappointment. As much as she'd like to stay for his performance, she knew she should return home before it got too late. Better to not risk angering her father so much that he'd lock her out. Reluctantly she trekked back home.
She got in bed that night with a smile on her face. The last thing she saw before falling victim to slumber was a pair of piercing blue-gray eyes.
Squall had wrapped up his performance and was now at the house him and his bandmates shared. He sat on the couch in the living room, drinking from a can of beer. Seifer-the lead guitarist, and Zell-the drummer, sat across from him. The bassist, Irvine, was in a room down the hall with one of his groupies, which definitely wasn't something new. Squall noticed Seifer eyeing him oddly.
"What is it?" Squall snapped. Since they were little, him and Seifer always had a tendency to clash.
Seifer continued eyeing him.
"Why'd you pull a blank during our performance tonight?" he asked.
"Pull a blank?" said Squall.
"Yea! You were singing and you suddenly went stock still!" Zell exclaimed.
"What the hell were you staring at?" asked Seifer.
Squall shrugged. "It was nothing." He resumed drinking his beer.
Seifer added, "…It was a girl, wasn't it?"
The alcoholic contents nearly spurted out of Squall's mouth.
"Whatever," he said, slamming the now empty aluminum can down on the coffee table. "I'm turning in."
He left the room and Seifer and Zell broke into laughter.
Squall lay down in his bed, dressed down to just a pair of boxer shorts; the sheets cool against his bare skin. He tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts of a certain young woman kept dancing through his restless mind. Her chocolate brown eyes had been looking right at him. Her in her white dress stood out like a flower in a land where nothing ever grows. She looked like…an angel. Squall closed his eyes and drifted to sleep with a small smile on his face.