AN: o.O Wow. Get ready, ladies and gentlemen, because this is going to be more confusing than the junction system. I don't even understand everything, and I'm the author.
What more of an explanation than that? Okay, okay ^_-. Well, this started after reading yet another Squinoa fic in which they start having "dreams" about their "past lives" and they fall in love and then realize, oh wait a second, I must be in love now too! I ranted about it to a fellow obsessor online, she ranted back, and the long and short of it was I started wondering if it was possible to write a *good* dream-fic. You can probably figure it out from there.
This fic is written in two points of view. One is Quisty's, whose head I just can't seem to get out of for the moment. She's back, but is she holding it together? I'll let you be the judge.
The second pov is a "general" one, from both "sides".
"Sides"? Ah, that's the other thing: this fic is also written in two time periods. One is the typical post-game (yes, Seifer's back) generic Garden most of us seem to envision. The other one... well, you know about as much as Quisty does.
This first part goes in no particular order. It's a series of jumbled recollections designed to give you a brief and very not thorough crash course in what-the-heck-is-going-on, both in the 'worlds' and Quisty's fragmented little head. After this things will settle into a somewhat chronological, although probably no more thorough, fashion. Thoughts tend to skip around.
Key:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* a break between scenes taking place in the same time *period*
////////// a switch between our time and the time that exists in Quisty's dream...
...except, of course, it isn't really a dream at all...
---------------
_In Dreams_
---------------
There was never any warning. Not anymore.
It could happen anytime. It depended not on how things were here, but on what occurred *there*. Midterms, sleeping, walking down the hall: it didn't matter. If something was happening, off she went.
Of course, she still had no idea who "they" were, or what "they" wanted. Perhaps more importantly, she still wasn't quite sure why.
Why now, that was. Why this method. Why "they" had chosen to do this.
Why her, on the other hand, she already knew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first time had been at night.
The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep and awake in a dream more vivid than any she'd ever had.
They weren't dreams, of course. But she wouldn't realize that until the third time she blinked and was gone during a lecture on Diablos.
Her first thought was "Ellone". It really did seem like the same thing, opening strange eyes, performing odd tasks with familiarity, unknown phrases rolling easily off her tongue.
It took her two trips to notice the difference.
With Sis, the foreign sensation was clear. You were not in control. The fingers that moved, the body that breathed, none of it was yours. It very definitely belonged to Someone Else.
But there was no dominant personality here relegating her to passenger status. She was in control and it was her body that moved.
It was right about then that she found the looking-glass.
//////////
After the first gasp of shock I calm and look at the reflection critically. One hand tilts the mirror's angle; automatically, but it gives me pause, and I focus on the slim, uncalloused fingers. I realize what has been nagging at me. I moved that hand.
My gaze returns to the glass, and I understand why.
No one would mistake us for twins. Stood next to each other the difference would be apparent. But viewed seperately, the similarities were striking.
The hair a shade darker, a richer gold against which my more common blond would pale. Sapphire eyes instead of cornflower. Strong, but lacking the muscles of a life of military training. More beautiful than I, I admit, and more feminine, wearing a formal gown that clung with intent to show. An inch, perhaps two taller.
But that is just the surface. The features match too closely for coincidence. A cheekbone higher, a nose slightly rounder, we would never be called identical but that's not the point. The real difference between us was not in body but in time.
Looking to the mirror I was right at home.
The conclusion seemed so far-fetched, but I have come to realize the inevitability of the truth.
This was also my time. This was also my body.
How many lifetimes ago, I was not yet prepared to guess.
//////////
How long has this been going on?
I remember there was snow on the ground, so much silence, it seemed wrong to break the chill with noise that would be swallowed anyway. Winter is a lonely season when there is nothing but yourself.
I suppose I was lonely.
It's not like I care.
They say freezing to death is painless, after the first chill. You like back on the snow like an angel made by children and go to sleep.
It's winter again.
It feels like forever.
Time passes so strangely for me now. Once I spent two weeks there. Eating, sleeping, dancing, negotiating with Estharians and our own nobles. Everything that is expected of the king's daughter. Proper, demure, and of marriageable age.
Ironic that I may find in my past something I gave up hope for in the present.
I still don't understand why.
It's not like I'm the type of girl people are attracted to.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
On this end, there's never any difference in time.
Even after a week spend dreaming, when I opened my eyes again not even a second had passed.
But time passes there. Not by years or even usually by months, not after the first few times, but hours. Days. Weeks, once or twice. I'll leave while dressing for a ball and awaken the morning after, or two days later. It's not like I control it.
You have to remember things quickly either way. Never appear thrown, confused, unsure or out of place. That leads to questions, too many questions.
I don't know the purpose of this but damned if I'll broadcast it. It's too much already. I'm not crazy but I'm not sure I'm Quite Sane. Then again I'm not sure any of us are, after that. How could we be?
I don't want help. Don't need help. Can't ever be seen to ask for help.
I feel like I can't breathe, anymore.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They say anyone in a war, if there's nothing mentally wrong with them, will if they do it long enough begin to hate killing. It happens to every cadet. More than tests, more than weapons proficiency, more than junction compatibilities, this makes or breaks your shot at SeeD.
No one will notice or tell you you should go see Dr. Kadowaki. If you start talking they'll listen, but they won't really help. You're on your own.
The successful ones disassociate themselves. It becomes unimportant and you become indifferent. It's about how well you aim, the flick of your wrist and the hiss in the air. Not about life. Not about death.
Those who never achieve that state of being never make SeeD.
Within these walls there is no room for remorse.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is anyone else thoroughly confused? I think calculus is rotting my brain. Yeah, that's it, blame it on the math homework... :p
You're no doubt beginning to notice I have an obsession with time... dunno where that comes from, but I love throwing frames of reference around and seeing how charachters react.
Since I had no takers, and I'm still in Quisty's head, and I still think Seifer's the hottest thing around, this is another Seiftis. Somehow I don't think most of you will mind. After this I'm trying a Zuu fic... now *that's* going to be interesting.
This is a strange little ficcy, no doubt about it, but I for one want to see where it ends up. *pause* Oh, don't look at me like that, of course I know where it ends up; I'm the author, aren't I? Well, either way (heh heh) this is going to be fun. I think. :)
What do *you* think? Ah-hah! It's "Rant at the author!" time! *Thrill!* as Lyaka gets complimented! *Wince!* as she gets flamed! And *Scratch your head in utter confusion!* as she debates time paradoxes with herself! It's all inside: just click the button. And maybe I'll actually explain stuff at some point. ^_-
Lyaka ^^ (evil lil' author)
What more of an explanation than that? Okay, okay ^_-. Well, this started after reading yet another Squinoa fic in which they start having "dreams" about their "past lives" and they fall in love and then realize, oh wait a second, I must be in love now too! I ranted about it to a fellow obsessor online, she ranted back, and the long and short of it was I started wondering if it was possible to write a *good* dream-fic. You can probably figure it out from there.
This fic is written in two points of view. One is Quisty's, whose head I just can't seem to get out of for the moment. She's back, but is she holding it together? I'll let you be the judge.
The second pov is a "general" one, from both "sides".
"Sides"? Ah, that's the other thing: this fic is also written in two time periods. One is the typical post-game (yes, Seifer's back) generic Garden most of us seem to envision. The other one... well, you know about as much as Quisty does.
This first part goes in no particular order. It's a series of jumbled recollections designed to give you a brief and very not thorough crash course in what-the-heck-is-going-on, both in the 'worlds' and Quisty's fragmented little head. After this things will settle into a somewhat chronological, although probably no more thorough, fashion. Thoughts tend to skip around.
Key:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* a break between scenes taking place in the same time *period*
////////// a switch between our time and the time that exists in Quisty's dream...
...except, of course, it isn't really a dream at all...
---------------
_In Dreams_
---------------
There was never any warning. Not anymore.
It could happen anytime. It depended not on how things were here, but on what occurred *there*. Midterms, sleeping, walking down the hall: it didn't matter. If something was happening, off she went.
Of course, she still had no idea who "they" were, or what "they" wanted. Perhaps more importantly, she still wasn't quite sure why.
Why now, that was. Why this method. Why "they" had chosen to do this.
Why her, on the other hand, she already knew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The first time had been at night.
The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep and awake in a dream more vivid than any she'd ever had.
They weren't dreams, of course. But she wouldn't realize that until the third time she blinked and was gone during a lecture on Diablos.
Her first thought was "Ellone". It really did seem like the same thing, opening strange eyes, performing odd tasks with familiarity, unknown phrases rolling easily off her tongue.
It took her two trips to notice the difference.
With Sis, the foreign sensation was clear. You were not in control. The fingers that moved, the body that breathed, none of it was yours. It very definitely belonged to Someone Else.
But there was no dominant personality here relegating her to passenger status. She was in control and it was her body that moved.
It was right about then that she found the looking-glass.
//////////
After the first gasp of shock I calm and look at the reflection critically. One hand tilts the mirror's angle; automatically, but it gives me pause, and I focus on the slim, uncalloused fingers. I realize what has been nagging at me. I moved that hand.
My gaze returns to the glass, and I understand why.
No one would mistake us for twins. Stood next to each other the difference would be apparent. But viewed seperately, the similarities were striking.
The hair a shade darker, a richer gold against which my more common blond would pale. Sapphire eyes instead of cornflower. Strong, but lacking the muscles of a life of military training. More beautiful than I, I admit, and more feminine, wearing a formal gown that clung with intent to show. An inch, perhaps two taller.
But that is just the surface. The features match too closely for coincidence. A cheekbone higher, a nose slightly rounder, we would never be called identical but that's not the point. The real difference between us was not in body but in time.
Looking to the mirror I was right at home.
The conclusion seemed so far-fetched, but I have come to realize the inevitability of the truth.
This was also my time. This was also my body.
How many lifetimes ago, I was not yet prepared to guess.
//////////
How long has this been going on?
I remember there was snow on the ground, so much silence, it seemed wrong to break the chill with noise that would be swallowed anyway. Winter is a lonely season when there is nothing but yourself.
I suppose I was lonely.
It's not like I care.
They say freezing to death is painless, after the first chill. You like back on the snow like an angel made by children and go to sleep.
It's winter again.
It feels like forever.
Time passes so strangely for me now. Once I spent two weeks there. Eating, sleeping, dancing, negotiating with Estharians and our own nobles. Everything that is expected of the king's daughter. Proper, demure, and of marriageable age.
Ironic that I may find in my past something I gave up hope for in the present.
I still don't understand why.
It's not like I'm the type of girl people are attracted to.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
On this end, there's never any difference in time.
Even after a week spend dreaming, when I opened my eyes again not even a second had passed.
But time passes there. Not by years or even usually by months, not after the first few times, but hours. Days. Weeks, once or twice. I'll leave while dressing for a ball and awaken the morning after, or two days later. It's not like I control it.
You have to remember things quickly either way. Never appear thrown, confused, unsure or out of place. That leads to questions, too many questions.
I don't know the purpose of this but damned if I'll broadcast it. It's too much already. I'm not crazy but I'm not sure I'm Quite Sane. Then again I'm not sure any of us are, after that. How could we be?
I don't want help. Don't need help. Can't ever be seen to ask for help.
I feel like I can't breathe, anymore.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They say anyone in a war, if there's nothing mentally wrong with them, will if they do it long enough begin to hate killing. It happens to every cadet. More than tests, more than weapons proficiency, more than junction compatibilities, this makes or breaks your shot at SeeD.
No one will notice or tell you you should go see Dr. Kadowaki. If you start talking they'll listen, but they won't really help. You're on your own.
The successful ones disassociate themselves. It becomes unimportant and you become indifferent. It's about how well you aim, the flick of your wrist and the hiss in the air. Not about life. Not about death.
Those who never achieve that state of being never make SeeD.
Within these walls there is no room for remorse.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is anyone else thoroughly confused? I think calculus is rotting my brain. Yeah, that's it, blame it on the math homework... :p
You're no doubt beginning to notice I have an obsession with time... dunno where that comes from, but I love throwing frames of reference around and seeing how charachters react.
Since I had no takers, and I'm still in Quisty's head, and I still think Seifer's the hottest thing around, this is another Seiftis. Somehow I don't think most of you will mind. After this I'm trying a Zuu fic... now *that's* going to be interesting.
This is a strange little ficcy, no doubt about it, but I for one want to see where it ends up. *pause* Oh, don't look at me like that, of course I know where it ends up; I'm the author, aren't I? Well, either way (heh heh) this is going to be fun. I think. :)
What do *you* think? Ah-hah! It's "Rant at the author!" time! *Thrill!* as Lyaka gets complimented! *Wince!* as she gets flamed! And *Scratch your head in utter confusion!* as she debates time paradoxes with herself! It's all inside: just click the button. And maybe I'll actually explain stuff at some point. ^_-
Lyaka ^^ (evil lil' author)
