Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII or Final Fantasy X.
She was having them again.
The dreams.
Visions.
Whatever they were.
They come to her, one after another, faces and places she has never seen before, one big jumble of sight and sound that leaves her head spinning. The strangest thing is, she remembers each one as clear as day, though for the life of her she doesn't know why.
She remembers a house by a beach, a lighthouse standing in the background. She remembers laughing as someone scoops her up, making her feel safe and warm and happy. She remembers a sea, a pretty slate colour that went on as far as she could see, and building sandcastles with a few other people. That same sea at night, pounding the shore in an angry rhythm as lightning flashed and the wind screamed outside a window.
She remembers a pair of hands-they are much smaller than hers, yet she knows they belonged to nobody else, clutching a worn moogle as she peeks through a doorway, watching a little boy with dark brown hair and an orange jacket stand in the rain outside, his shoulders hunched in what is unmistakenablely grief.
He is saying something, though his tiny voice is easily drowned by the storm around him.
She knows he is looking at something she couldn't quite make out, far off in the distance, and she knows it is important. She has no idea who he is, although she has the strangest feeling she knows him, that this boy is special to her. The boy turns, and a bolt of lightning lights up the whole house, and even from where she is she can see he has been crying, because his eyes are puffy and red, yet looking completely devoid of emotion now.
She remembers the feeling of her heart breaking.
The scene changes, and now she is in a classroom.
She remembers feeling pride, though there is also a faint trickle of nervousness that coils in her stomach as she faces the roomful of young people. She just knows that this is her first time, and that she would be facing more classrooms like this in the future, but she doesn't know how she knows that, and neither does she really care.
Her voice, which sounds nothing like her, and yet again she just knows it is hers, leaves her mouth, and she is proud once more of how strong and clear it sounds. She looks down, and instead of her black gown and belts she is dressed in a peach-coloured outfit, a whip of all things securely fastened to her belt.
When she looks up, she is outside, in the way that dreams seem to change when you don't pay attention. Standing before her is a quiet young man dressed in black. He seems to be in thought, and she takes a moment to study him. Shiny chocolate locks frame flawless porcelain skin, his delicate features offset by an angry looking scar that runs diagonally across his face. She can see that the scar is fairly new, the healing tissue still a raw-looking pink. An air of quiet strength surrounds him, relaxing her somewhat.
He is important, she decides.
Midnight blue eyes narrow, then he nods ever so slightly to himself, as if he has made a decision, and he then holds out his hand. She gives him a sparkling blue orb (when did that apear in her hands?), when a loud sound suddenly fills her ears. She turns, and suddenly she is behind a strange machina at sea, eyes trained nervously on the shore in front of her, watching as the young man and two others, a blonde boy with an intricate tattoo covering half his face and a girl with pretty brown hair in an impossible style that seemed to defy gravity come running towards her, being chased by another strange machina that looked like a giant spider.
Instinct kicks in, and she somehow makes the machina before her roar to life, showering the spider-creature with sparks that rip through its metal body, tearing it to shreds in a terrible scream of metal on metal. It explodes, and the three people it was chasing make their way to the ship she is on.
She remembers the feeling of overwhelming relief.
Suddenly she is in what appears to be a rather large machina which moves quickly through the countryside, turning the plains and forests outside into a blur. A soothing clackity-clack fills the air, and she remembers how hypnotising the sound can be. She seems to be nearing a city, though it is unlike any she has ever seen before. It is approaching dusk, for the sky is turning purple and indigo and all the other colours of twilight, and she knows that if she looks hard enough she would be able to just see the stars twinkling above her.
Standing next to her is a pretty young woman in blue, who seems to be talking to her. She doesn't hear any words, though she can clearly see this stranger's lips moving. Wind blows in through the half-opened window beside her, making her hair fly and for the first time she realises that it is a rich golden-blonde instead of her usual silky black.
The unknown person next to her smiles, one hand sliding the window shut as the other fixes her own raven locks. Staring at her reflection in the glass, she sees that she wears a pair of spectacles, and her eyes are an icy blue, not the gold she has always had, and it takes her a short while to realise that she is not shocked by this revelation at all.
Admittedly, she is quite attractive, though the face that stares back at her brings back no memories.
To her right, the blonde boy with the face tattoo is animatedly talking, punching a fist into his hand excitedly for emphasis, as the quiet young man he is speaking to barely pays attention. To her left is the same girl from before, with the funny hairstyle. She is watching the scenery, a yellow outfit hugging her petite frame. Next to her is a tall gentleman in a tan overcoat, his violet eyes showing nothing but amusement as he says something to the perky girl.
She giggles, then playfully takes the hat he wears and runs off with it, her laughter clear and high. He swaggers after her, and she sees that he wears his red hair in a ponytail which sways with every step he takes. He winks at her as he passes, making her half-smile and turn away.
She remembers the feeling of nervous anticipation.
Now, she is standing at a small window, overlooking a parade in a city. It is night-time, and the people below look so tiny. A multitude of lights shine, and she can just see a troup of dancers in front of a spectacular float that moves slowly towards her position. It is all very festive, and yet she feels afraid. Turning around, she sees that she is with those two strange teenagers again, namely the tattoed boy and the brown-haired girl.
The quiet young man is nowhere to be seen, and a dim echo of her memory tells her that this is all part of 'the plan'.
When the float is directly under her, she takes a breath, then signals the boy behind her. He pulls a crank, and instantly two gates roll downward, trapping the float beneath her feet. She turns to take a step, and she is down among the crowd, watching as the same quiet young man from before falls back from the top of the float, a beautifully shining spear in his right shoulder. She remembers someone screaming, though it could have been her, and she is running. Running straight towards the crumpled form of that quiet young man, praying and hoping that he is still alive, hot tears stinging her face as she comes closer and closer to him. She is just one step away from him, when the world explodes into a brilliant white light around her.
She remembers the pain of failure.
She is now in a fantastic city, a place where the floor is glass and lightning dances across the walls. The people around her all wear strange looking robes, and for some reason she knows that they mean her no harm.
To her far left, a man steps on a platform, where he takes a seat as the whole thing suddenly rises and whisks him away with a gentle hum through a large glass tunnel. The quiet young man strides purposefuly through the sparkling walkway in front of her, and she feels as though she must follow him, so she does.
A step forward, then another, and another, and she is suddenly in a strange room, watching a funny looking old man in purple robes gesticulate wildly as he speaks. She hears nothing of his speech, though once again she realises that what he says is important, though she isn't sure why.
Looking around, she is a little surprised to see a new stranger, a woman in a dark blue dress listening intently to the old man, and next to her is that mysterious boy with the storm-coloured eyes, who does nothing but stare at the speaking elder, yet she knows that his mind is absorbing everything being said. A tiny flicker of pride shoots through her, and she is momentarily surprised by it. The rest of the people on that clacking machina stand around the room as well, faces grim as the old man keeps on speaking.
The woman is strange, she decides.
She does not know why, but then it suddenly hits her. She knows magic, being the black mage that she is, and she could feel the power radiate from that woman and fill the room. It was faint, yet she could sense that the woman standing not two feet from her possessed incredible magic, far stronger than anything she has ever known. It thrilled her and terrified her at the same time, to be able to feel such raw energy be fully controlled by another like that.
The woman turned to her, and she takes in a beautiful face with pretty black hair and golden eyes that looked right through her. She looks away, embarrassed at being caught staring, and finds that she is now looking out a window once more.
This time, all she can see is nothingness that stretches out into inky oblivion, and she is surprised when she realises that she is in space.
She remembers a feeling of terrible dread.
Falling.
She is now falling, and everything around her twists and shimmers, as if this strange dream world cannot decide what to reveal to her next. As she falls, she suddenly realises that both her hands are holding someone else's, and looking up she sees that it is none other than that charming man with the violet eyes on her right, and the dark haired young woman in blue from before on her left.
They are in a circle, along with the quiet young man, the tatooed blonde and the girl in yellow, fingers entertwined desperately as the six of them kept on falling. Then, as suddenly as it begins, the crazy trip is over and she finds herself standing before a collosal door.
The five of them are there too, and she remembers feeling determination, as well as a sense of reassurance that everything would be alright as long as those five are with her. They are about to go into battle, she knows that much, because everyone is readying themselves with weapons, so she unfurls her whip, the weight of its handle feeling good in her hand. The quiet young man pushes the door open, and they all follow him into a large chamber that pulsates with magic.
It is nothing like the magic of that woman in dark blue, not quiet and restrained, but wild and furious and even bordering on insane, and she knew that whoever wielded it was dangerous.
A strange woman in a skimpy outfit and cold silver eyes levitates before them, and she instantly feels the mad power roll off her in waves. It was the same with Seymour, and she readied herself as that demented witch points at them and laughs. She flicks the whip, not even stopping to wonder at the practised ease with which she did it, and runs straight at the cackling woman, as the others rush her too.
Her hand draws back, the whip arching gracefully through the air, and she is about to hit her, that mad sorceress with eyes that screamed of pain and destruction and misery, when all of a sudden she is being gently shaken.
Wakka looms over her, his brown eyes crinkling in worry. "You alright there, Lu?"
Silence fills the air for a moment as she regains her composure. Her mind races, and she feels a thin sheen of sweat form on her brow, as the things she has seen become burned into her memory.
"I'm fine."
A/N: Hahaha I dunno what made me do this…It's just that Lulu always struck me as the Quistis of the group, and so this fic was born. Tell me what you think, kay?