A Balamb Garden Festival
A Balamb Garden Festival
by Medea (medea_s@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII
and all it's characters belong to Square and not me. I'm not
worth suing anyway, all you'll get out of me is a slow computer,
some anime videos and my Eva models... *hides her Seifer figurine
behind her back* ^^;
This fic is based shamelessly on Dicken's 'A Christmas Carol' in case you couldn't
tell. Thanks go out to Pete for helping me with ideas!
------ Stave One ------
The Sorceress War was over.
Peace had returned to the world, and the Garden remained in
operation so that they could be prepared for Ultimecia's eventual
birth. You could say life had returned to normal, if there ever
was such a thing.
As the seasons turned, everyone
began to settle into routine. There were classes to run by
Quistis, girls to chase by Irvine, hotdogs to eat by Zell, and
everything else was pretty much left to Squall. He was beginning
to tire of repeating his story to students, but each recollection
drew crowds - and developed into a source of income. Another
thing he grew tiresome of was Rinoa. Sure, the girl was a
sweetheart. And she had such nice, round.. eyes. But
Squall-I-don't-need-anyone-else-Leonhart started to remember
exactly why he preferred solitude for so long. It just
wasn't his thing to express emotions at the drop of a hat.
"Happy Solstice,
Squall!"
The one addressed looked up to
see a smiling vested Robin Williams look-alike standing before
him in the office, daring to interrupt his deep thoughts. He
regarded the headmaster for a moment with a stoic expression
before frowning.
"...Whatever."
"Come on, Squall!" Cid
adjusted the glasses on his nose. "Aren't you excited about
the Garden Festival tomorrow? Everyone has put in so much
effort..."
[Excited? What do I have to be
excited about? Everyone is just getting distracted from their
objective. This is a military academy. Not a place for fraternity
parties. It's only a festival.]
"... The pride of Balamb
Garden! Life and death, victory and defeat..."
[Does this old man ever quit
with his speeches? He makes the festival seem like it's greater
than time compression. Well, maybe to Selphie it is. I guess
people need to be able to have some fun once in a while. But the
Festival just doesn't appeal to me.]
"What do you say, Squall?
Would you?"
Of course, Squall had not been
listening to Cid's recitation of the joys of the Festival. But
instead of protesting, he gave him a reluctant
"...Whatever," which resulted in a beaming headmaster.
"Good! It's about time you
get away from your work and have some fun. I don't want you all
to become like robots..."
"Hey, I'll see you there,
Squall," piped up Nida, who had been listening in on the
conversation from his post on the bridge. The commander simply
blinked at him, then turned away so the guy could disappear into
the obscurity of an NPC once again.
At that moment, Selphie Tilmitt
came bounding into the room. Squall leaned back on his desk,
raised a hand to his forehead, and sighed.
"Hiya, Squall!" The
brunette chirped with a smile. Pivoting on the spot, she turned
to face Cid and gave him the SeeD salute. "Sir, everything's
coming along according to schedule."
"Wonderful!" He
responded, smiling brightly. "Squall here has agreed to be
the MC for tomorrow," he added.
[Huh?!]
"Really? Wow! Booyaka!
Thanks, Squall!"
[W-wait...]
"This is gonna be great!
Everyone really looks up to you Squall! I've got to go tell
Irvine and the others!" And with that, she left the office,
more excited than normal, if that was possible.
Squall, however, had a look of
sheer dread on his face. Cid noticed it, and put a hand on his
shoulder. Expression from Mr. Iceberg, good or bad, was
exceptionally rare. "Come now, Squall. It can't be that
bad."
"But it is! I don't want
this. I never asked for it. Go get someone else to be MC for the
stupid festival." Scowling, Squall stormed into the
elevator, leaving behind a bewildered old man.
Squall calmed down a little, and
took his melancholy dinner in the usual melancholy cafeteria.
Having read the Balamb Times, and beguiled the rest of the
evening with his SeeD code and conduct manual, he retired to
bed. He lived in a dormitory which had once belonged to a
nameless SeeD, who had long since left Garden. It was a sterile
room, and consisted of little more than a cot, a desk, and some
drawers. The case for his gunblade rested against one wall, and
the only real sign of residence was a purple striped sock that
sat abandoned and lifeless in a corner of the room.
Lying back on his bed, Squall
proceeded to drift off into the world of his thoughts once more.
Outside, the sun was beginning to submerge into the abyss behind
the small town to the west of the Garden, and the structure lit
up with its own light, bright enough to rival the sun. Holding
the back of his hand to his eyes to block out the menacing glow
of the fluorescent on the ceiling, he let his mind wander, and
thought about things in the way Squall only could.
(Squall?)
He blinked confusedly, wrinkling
the scar on his forehead. Someone was talking in his mind -
again. Squall knew it wasn't his Guardian Forces, for they would
only speak to him through sensations of ice or thunder. With the
power of deduction, he realised who it must be speaking to him.
"Ellone?"
(Hi, Squall. How are you?)
Pausing to think, Squall decided
eventually on what word would be appropriate to assess his
present mood.
"Lousy. Is there something
wrong, Elle?"
(Yes, there is. Everybody is
starting to get worried about you. Actually, we're getting fed up
with your nonchalant, self-absorbed attitude.)
[What?!] Squall sat up, and
shook his head in disbelief.
(Everyone has been working
incredibly hard on the summer festival, and you're acting so
negative. So they've asked me to do this.)
[I wish everyone would just
leave me alone!]
"What's going on?
Ellone?"
(Squall, just listen to me. I
can't keep this 'connection' for long. You have to be taught a
lesson. It's for your own good.)
"Huh? Why?"
(Because if you keep being an
asshole, we will be forced to kill you.)
That shut Squall up. He blinked
his eyes. Surely Quistis, Zell and the others wouldn't... Before
he could question the intruding voice, it continued to speak.
(Tonight, you shall be visited
by three guides. I'm going to help them take you through time.
Without their help, you cannot expect to overcome your problems
and stop being so damn pissy.)
Squall tried to protest, he was
seriously worried. Traveling through time to see through Laguna's
eyes was bad enough. But would Ellone make him go through the
memories of his childhood? So before he could say a word, his
thoughts drowned him, and Ellone continued.
(Expect the first tomorrow, when
the clock strikes one.)
"Can't I just take them all
at once?" He shifted his weight on the bed, much like a
child fidgeting in hope to avoid Matron's reprimand. "To
have it all over and done with?"
(Expect the second on the next
night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the
last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Goodbye, Squall, and
good luck.)
"Ellone! Ellone,
wait!" Squall was on his feet, calling to his unseen
companion. It was, however, already too late, for she had
disconnected her power to communicate in such a way. The room
fell silent, and the leather-clad commander sat back down on his
bed. He tried to dismiss what had occurred with a
"Whatever," but the word simply would not form on his
lips. With a tap of the X button, he turned off the lights and
fell asleep instantly.
