Author's Note: This is just a short prelude of what is to come. I always
like having short chapters because it will allow me to update with new
chapters faster. Hopefully I will be able to keep you interested! (
Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I regret to announce that I do not own any minute portion of Squaresoft.
***
Things never seem to turn out the way you expect them to. Sometimes this is what makes life so wonderful. Ironically, it can also be what makes life so hard, so disappointing, and so unbearable at times.
Seifer would have never imagined his life turning out as it had. As a child he had dreamed of swinging his mighty sword around, saving a princess, and becoming a hero. Looking into the mirror now, there was no reflection of that dream.
The scar across his forehead reminded him of his jealousy, hate, and foolishness. These were traits that no proper hero would possess. He had hated Squall, in part because Squall fit the mold of a soldier so much easier than Seifer ever had. He'd been jealous of the attention Squall attracted, jealous of his talent, and jealous of his success. Thus, he'd been foolish and attacked Squall with blind rage, scarring the otherwise perfect man. Seifer would in turn be marked, his scar haunting him as a representation of all his faults.
Seifer also stared at his eyes in the mirror. He hated his eyes with a passion. While he was capable of hiding his attitudes and feelings through his cocky smirk and arrogant body language, he could not silence what his eyes said. They would show fear through his bold façade, sadness through his rage, and thoughtfulness through his indifference. They were like a window that he had always failed to curtain.
He turned away from the mirror, trying to escape the thoughts running through his mind.the summation of which were in one word.
Failure.
The thought of the word was like poison to his blood. Seifer could handle everything but failure, and yet this was all he ever achieved. He supposed that he was successful in the fact that he was consistent. He'd failed to be a SeeD, he'd failed in aiding Ultimecia, and since then, he had failed in all his other endeavors (granted that none had been as extreme as conquering the world though).
A heavy sigh escaped his body. A sudden impulse rushed through him, and soon his fist had made contact with the mirror. Through its scattered shards, the mirror now reflected his unwillingness to see his true self.
His knuckles were now dripping with blood, but he was numb to the pain. Physical pain was no match for the pain that overwhelmed his soul.
He dragged his tired body over to his bed and dropped down onto it, forcing his eyes shut. His hand was flung over the side of the bed, dripping and leaving a puddle beneath it. He was not tired, but he would sleep anyhow. Part of him always felt as though it were sleeping. .
Disclaimer: I regret to announce that I do not own any minute portion of Squaresoft.
***
Things never seem to turn out the way you expect them to. Sometimes this is what makes life so wonderful. Ironically, it can also be what makes life so hard, so disappointing, and so unbearable at times.
Seifer would have never imagined his life turning out as it had. As a child he had dreamed of swinging his mighty sword around, saving a princess, and becoming a hero. Looking into the mirror now, there was no reflection of that dream.
The scar across his forehead reminded him of his jealousy, hate, and foolishness. These were traits that no proper hero would possess. He had hated Squall, in part because Squall fit the mold of a soldier so much easier than Seifer ever had. He'd been jealous of the attention Squall attracted, jealous of his talent, and jealous of his success. Thus, he'd been foolish and attacked Squall with blind rage, scarring the otherwise perfect man. Seifer would in turn be marked, his scar haunting him as a representation of all his faults.
Seifer also stared at his eyes in the mirror. He hated his eyes with a passion. While he was capable of hiding his attitudes and feelings through his cocky smirk and arrogant body language, he could not silence what his eyes said. They would show fear through his bold façade, sadness through his rage, and thoughtfulness through his indifference. They were like a window that he had always failed to curtain.
He turned away from the mirror, trying to escape the thoughts running through his mind.the summation of which were in one word.
Failure.
The thought of the word was like poison to his blood. Seifer could handle everything but failure, and yet this was all he ever achieved. He supposed that he was successful in the fact that he was consistent. He'd failed to be a SeeD, he'd failed in aiding Ultimecia, and since then, he had failed in all his other endeavors (granted that none had been as extreme as conquering the world though).
A heavy sigh escaped his body. A sudden impulse rushed through him, and soon his fist had made contact with the mirror. Through its scattered shards, the mirror now reflected his unwillingness to see his true self.
His knuckles were now dripping with blood, but he was numb to the pain. Physical pain was no match for the pain that overwhelmed his soul.
He dragged his tired body over to his bed and dropped down onto it, forcing his eyes shut. His hand was flung over the side of the bed, dripping and leaving a puddle beneath it. He was not tired, but he would sleep anyhow. Part of him always felt as though it were sleeping. .