THOUGHTS
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII does not belong to me, but Seifer's 'thoughts' about himself do belong to me, they are fanon, not canon.
"That guy used to be the sorcereress's knight, you know, what was-"
"Why is he here? He LOST!"
"Yeah….Maybe it's so the commander has something to look down on…"
"No….he doesn't live here, or study here…he's only like, visiting or something…"
There are a lot of things no one knows about Seifer. Mostly because they don't care enough to find out.
Like even though he doesn't attend Garden anymore, he can still has the power to frighten cadets as well as he could back on the D.C.
Like the way he hates the cold, and that he's violently allergic to the alloy they make train doors out of.
"SEIEFER. COME."
"Yeah, gotta see Leonhart before we take off, ya know,"
"Well, let's get it over with then."
Like the fact he likes fake chicory coffee more than the regular joe, and would quite happily drown in ice tea. As long as it was the canned stuff.
Like the way he loves fire. He'll stare at a flame for hours if he's uninterrupted.
Like the way insults about his family hurt, because he didn't know who they were, and for all he knew, he really was a 'bastard'.
"Almasy."
"Chicken-oops, I meant Dincht."
"I hate you, you- argggh!"
"Whoah there, chicky, don't your feathers ruffled,"
"Zell. Ignore him. Seifer, get in here already."
"As you command, Princess."
Or the way his knuckles have been slightly malformed as long as he can remember, they crack loudly at strange times, they need a special medicated cream rubbed into them morning and evening, and when he gets in fist fights, his hands hurt more than any bruises. He'd wanted to be martial artist, once upon a time, but when a doctor had shot that down, he turned to gunblades, and tales of knights and sorcery.
…He doesn't care anyway. Honestly.
"So-"
"Gonna finish that sentence?"
"I was going to, but you interrupted me, Seifer."
"Why did you call me in, Squall?"
"Esthar has agreed to let you off, with only one condition: You report to me once a month with our whereabouts and current going-ons."
"Seriously?"
"…They want a bug too, but if I give it to you…You'll just throw it away."
"Damn straight."
"However, if I give you a two way radio?"
"I could live with that."
"You'll have too."
Even his favourite colour. He can't decide between blue, red and orange (red and orange like flickering flames…) He always smirks and says 'clear' if anyone asks.
He's 'friends' with the cafeteria staff. He flatters them outrageously, and slips them a tenner once a month to tell Zell they're out of hotdogs.
"We're out of here."
"GOOD."
"So Zell, I hear they're still out of hotdogs."
"Go away, Seifer."
"I'm leaving, Puberty-boy."
"About time!"
"Shut up, Shrimpy."
Or the way that, actually, the sudden disappearance of any ice-cream that enters his shared apartment is actually not Raijin's fault. He's on it faster than Dincht on hotdogs.
Like the way that, thanks to the chocobo plushy he'd had when he was little, he's now a cuddler in his sleep. Large animals, people, pillows, anything that doesn't move and is the right size ends up in a death grip that would impress a professional wrestler.
"So, where are we going next, ya know?"
"Timber is still doing the revolutionary thing. Sound good?"
"YES. GOOD."
"Sure thing boss! But won't they…"
"I've been pardoned, Raijin, weren't you paying attention?"
"CELEBRATE!"
"Yeah, boss, we can go out for ice-cream, ya know?"
"Why ice-cream?"
"NOT. STUPID."
"You like ice-cream, Seifer, you don't need to pretend you don't., ya know?"
"Cool. Yeah, ice cream sounds good."
"BROKE. SOON."
"What?"
"Fuujin thinks we'll be broke if we take you out for icecream. Have to say I agree with her, ya know?"
"I…Oh, whatever. I'll limit myself. You guys have to order different flavours to me, okay?"
"Sure thing, ya know."
"DIBS. VANILLA."
Like the way that he trust his posse with more than just his life. He trusts them with everything. They know his favourite colours, about his weird hands. Fuujin used to type up reports for him, to spare his fingers, and Raijin still put in five to deprive Zell of his beloved hotdogs. Like the way one of them always sat next to him when they watched TV, so he could cuddle if he could relax his guard that much.
"So, Timber, ya know?"
"RINOA THERE?"
"Nah…she's off vacationing with Daddy. Revolution is her hobby, not her cause. Not like us!"
"Yeah! We'll have them independent by December, ya know?"
"IS DECEMBER."
"Next December then, ya know."
"Right then. And after Timber?"
"DECIDE THEN."
"Yeah, first we stick this one through, ya know!"
"Of course. We'll miss our train if we don't hurry."
"RAIJIN. DOOR."
"I'm on it, ya know?"
They knew that Ultimecia had never punished him through pain or words. Instead she'd used sensory deprivation, not allowing him to even feel his own limbs. Since then, he always hums if he's on his own. He tries to stick to crowded areas, and starts conversations with his group whenever there isn't enough ambient sound.
"RAIJIN! DOOR!"
"I know, I didn't forget, ya know!"
"I'm not a lady, I can open the door myself!"
"HIVES. VOMIT."
"It's not pleasant though, ya know. You aren't wearing your gloves right now, ya know."
"…Thanks."
They were going to Timber because Seifer had wanted to be a Knight to help. And now he wasn't a Knight. He still wanted to help, and revolutions sounded fun.