A/N: I don't own Final Fantsy VIII or anything in it ;-;
The weather was changing.
Dark storm clouds were rolling in, dimming the sunset and horizon they'd consumed, giving a violent blue flare to its plumage. Cold air seeped forth, preluding what promised to be a night of horrific torrents of rain, if luck held out, or a violent ice storm if not. The air stilled, all sounds terminating as the icy feel devoured the landscape. Squall stood arms open in the frigid terrain, practically humming with energy as his white shirt began to frost over, having thrown the bomber jacket to the ground long ago.
"Squall!" a voice rang out, fading into the delicate silence, "Squall!!" he called again, the words falling on deaf ears. Squall had lost all touch with the world the minute the front had settled in the distance and he'd abandoned the settled Garden. A black gloved hand gripped tightly on his shoulder, turning him around and thrusting him backwards into its owner's arms. "Rai! Fu! Get his legs, hurry! The storm's almost here!" A frosted eye flickered to focus, a scowl forming on the ever bluing lips, the thin sheet of ice on them cracking in the process. The trio had him halfway back to Balamb Garden, the metallic monstrosity jutting out from Trabia's pristine forests. Just steps from the doorway Squalls icy limbs shuddered down, pallid arms grasping at the offending arms on his torso with more force than a blue dragon. "Let….go…" he breathed, his air so cold it came out clean, unlike the clouded breathes of the Disciplinary Committee. Snorting in response, his captor rushed him inside, slamming on the door pad just as an ice storm rivaling Shiva's Diamond Dust flushed past.
"FOOLISH." Fujin started, "DEATHWISH." Squall gave his patented Death Glare a shot in her direction, only to be ignored. "She's got a point, y'know? I mean, ya coulda' died out there, y'know!" Raijin belted. Another Death Glare ensued. Sighing, their leader bent to set the frigid man down. "But really Squall, what the hell were you trying to pull? It's not exactly safe out there…" Blinking away the last of the rapidly melting ice that had etched his face, the sodden man turned back to the door, pressing close against it. "It's because, Seifer, it's changing." He paused. "No. That's not it . . . it's coming." Panting out his final words, color draining from his already pallid face, the mild trembling of his slight frame overcame him, buckling his knees and sending him sprawling across the floor into the shadowy depths of unconsciousness.