Purple Squall
By Nix Winter
Disclaimers: I don't own Squall, Seifer, or Balamb, but I do own the world I'm trying to build here.
Warnings: Highly AU! It is yaoi though
Notes: Feedback is highly appreciated.
Chief Seattle is said to have said, "Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change." It was his guiding spirit that saw Seattle and the people of Seattle through the war of Yelendil, the return of elves and magic-kin to the modern world. Once Seattle had been part of the mainland, part of the USA. There had been Mercer Island and Puget Sound. And the young that Chief Seattle had spoken of, though young of a hibernating race, had woken and painted their faces black. The elves had woken from a thousand year sleep to find the world changed, humans arrogant and powerful and blackhawk helicopters had fought against elvish mages. There was no more Puget Sound.
The Seattle Democratic Republic claimed land from Skykomish to Tacoma, water rights from the shoreline at Snoqualmie to just past here the Idaho border once was. The melting of the polar icecaps would have changed the map of the world if it had been left alone. A cornered trio of elvish fighters had set off a solar spell and greatly accelerated the process. San Francisco, L.A., Rome, all of Panama, cities around the world found themselves with way too much water. That was the catalyst for the end of the war. Elves drown just as well as humans, but together they were able to save some of the cities, many of the people. Seattle, which had been leaning towards tolerance way before the world got a bath, was better off than most. At least elves and humans hadn't been trying to kill each other.
As the fighting died back, with no official truce declared, Seattle became Sanctuary for every kind of person. Elf, human, dragon, mer, were, assassin, or whatever undiscovered species, they all trickled into Seattle. Sign the respect for sentience pledge, swear non intent to harm, and you were in. If you were found in violation of either vow, and you were out, chipped so you could never come back in. Outside was not a good place to be. Seattle was the land of democracy and opportunity, all a person had to do was be tolerant and smart.
Not that the little republic didn't have her problems too. Harm was harder to define than one would think, especially if one had good lawyers. Seattle had a long tradition of being home to corporate kings, brilliant and ruthless minds. The occasional corporate war fairly unavoidable. Getting caught in the middle wasn't all that big of a surprise either.
Wars, the big world wide kind, and the little corporate kind, made orphans. Academies raised orphans, raised them for their corporate sponsor. Raised in Balamb Academy, Squall Leonhart was a syad for Balamb Corporation, a soldier, a protector of Balamb assets. He was the best they had. Leaning against the wall on his balcony, watching the afternoon storm dance across the ocean, he didn't care if he were the best. Mostly, he didn't think he cared about anything. The rain shifted and pattered across his face, plastering fine purple hair to his face, twisting it around a delicate pointed ear. The rain was good for many things. Hiding tears being high on the list.
The scar on his face was healed, magically healed a hundred times over, though if it had healed naturally it might still be tender, pink. He ran his middle finger over it, tracing the line that started above an eyebrow and traced down to just under the opposite eye. The calloused finger tip felt cool, comforting somehow. It ought to hurt, this scar. It ought to echo and scream at him. The sage told him there was a message from his soul in the scar, and that he would find no peace until he understood the message of his soul. The sage might as well have told him to take up dancing or water walking for all the good listening to his soul would do him. Squall knew he didn't have a soul. He was syad. That was all.
He turned away from the storm and raked wet hair back from his face as he walked back into his room. He'd been given a commander's room in Balamb Tower, after the Witch War. He'd done it. He'd lead his team against the incursions of the Ultimica Corporation. It was corporate self-defense. They'd had all the permits, all the disclaimers were signed. No Seattlian laws were broken, even though nearly five hundred syads died. Syads signed disclaimers and they got hazard pay.
With the afternoon storm still falling outside his balcony, Squall peeled his wet tee-shirt off and hung it on a hook by the glass doors. "Training," he spoke the command and the holographic presentation of his room shifted. "Seifer, interactive."
The room didn't even flicker as Seifer Almasy materialized in the room, gunblade on his shoulder, cocky grin on his face, green eyes watching Squall as if he were a living breathing person still. "You just never get enough, do you Squally?"
The flash of anger Squall felt at those words were the first feeling he'd acknowledged all day. The holographic face smiling back at him wore a mirror image scar between his eyes and even just a holographic recreation, he understood Squall better than any living person. "You're such an asshole. Eat dinner with me?"
Seifer-hologram rolled his eyes, head tilting back, finger tips touching his chest, right over the black cross on his chest. "I don't need to eat Squally, but I'll watch you, if that's what it takes to get enough nourishment into your weakling organic system so we can have a go at it later."
"Is fighting all you think about?" Squall asked, passing his hand over a sensor so the kitchen utilities would show. Simple foods, a protein burger and vanilla flavored nutri-shake, that was all he had and he didn't miss any thing more complicated.
"At least I'm not a numb nut talking to a hologram. You can only expand my programming so far, Squally. Why don't you go find the real me, if that's what you want so fucking badly?"
Squall dropped his drink, splattering vanilla everywhere. Find Seifer? Seifer was dead. He'd killed Seifer. Seifer was dead. Seifer never came back out of the time compression. Seifer. Squall closed his eyes and he could see so easily those green eyes, the look of shock and horror on them as Squall had struck the final blow in their last battle. Seifer hadn't meant the things he'd done. Squall didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He grasped a handful of hair and leaned forward to touch the cabinet with his forehead. "How am I supposed to find the dead?"
Seifer-hologram started moving through a gunblade kata, moving with effortless grace, perfect as it was each time. "What makes you so sure I'm dead?"
S
By Nix Winter
Disclaimers: I don't own Squall, Seifer, or Balamb, but I do own the world I'm trying to build here.
Warnings: Highly AU! It is yaoi though
Notes: Feedback is highly appreciated.
Chief Seattle is said to have said, "Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change." It was his guiding spirit that saw Seattle and the people of Seattle through the war of Yelendil, the return of elves and magic-kin to the modern world. Once Seattle had been part of the mainland, part of the USA. There had been Mercer Island and Puget Sound. And the young that Chief Seattle had spoken of, though young of a hibernating race, had woken and painted their faces black. The elves had woken from a thousand year sleep to find the world changed, humans arrogant and powerful and blackhawk helicopters had fought against elvish mages. There was no more Puget Sound.
The Seattle Democratic Republic claimed land from Skykomish to Tacoma, water rights from the shoreline at Snoqualmie to just past here the Idaho border once was. The melting of the polar icecaps would have changed the map of the world if it had been left alone. A cornered trio of elvish fighters had set off a solar spell and greatly accelerated the process. San Francisco, L.A., Rome, all of Panama, cities around the world found themselves with way too much water. That was the catalyst for the end of the war. Elves drown just as well as humans, but together they were able to save some of the cities, many of the people. Seattle, which had been leaning towards tolerance way before the world got a bath, was better off than most. At least elves and humans hadn't been trying to kill each other.
As the fighting died back, with no official truce declared, Seattle became Sanctuary for every kind of person. Elf, human, dragon, mer, were, assassin, or whatever undiscovered species, they all trickled into Seattle. Sign the respect for sentience pledge, swear non intent to harm, and you were in. If you were found in violation of either vow, and you were out, chipped so you could never come back in. Outside was not a good place to be. Seattle was the land of democracy and opportunity, all a person had to do was be tolerant and smart.
Not that the little republic didn't have her problems too. Harm was harder to define than one would think, especially if one had good lawyers. Seattle had a long tradition of being home to corporate kings, brilliant and ruthless minds. The occasional corporate war fairly unavoidable. Getting caught in the middle wasn't all that big of a surprise either.
Wars, the big world wide kind, and the little corporate kind, made orphans. Academies raised orphans, raised them for their corporate sponsor. Raised in Balamb Academy, Squall Leonhart was a syad for Balamb Corporation, a soldier, a protector of Balamb assets. He was the best they had. Leaning against the wall on his balcony, watching the afternoon storm dance across the ocean, he didn't care if he were the best. Mostly, he didn't think he cared about anything. The rain shifted and pattered across his face, plastering fine purple hair to his face, twisting it around a delicate pointed ear. The rain was good for many things. Hiding tears being high on the list.
The scar on his face was healed, magically healed a hundred times over, though if it had healed naturally it might still be tender, pink. He ran his middle finger over it, tracing the line that started above an eyebrow and traced down to just under the opposite eye. The calloused finger tip felt cool, comforting somehow. It ought to hurt, this scar. It ought to echo and scream at him. The sage told him there was a message from his soul in the scar, and that he would find no peace until he understood the message of his soul. The sage might as well have told him to take up dancing or water walking for all the good listening to his soul would do him. Squall knew he didn't have a soul. He was syad. That was all.
He turned away from the storm and raked wet hair back from his face as he walked back into his room. He'd been given a commander's room in Balamb Tower, after the Witch War. He'd done it. He'd lead his team against the incursions of the Ultimica Corporation. It was corporate self-defense. They'd had all the permits, all the disclaimers were signed. No Seattlian laws were broken, even though nearly five hundred syads died. Syads signed disclaimers and they got hazard pay.
With the afternoon storm still falling outside his balcony, Squall peeled his wet tee-shirt off and hung it on a hook by the glass doors. "Training," he spoke the command and the holographic presentation of his room shifted. "Seifer, interactive."
The room didn't even flicker as Seifer Almasy materialized in the room, gunblade on his shoulder, cocky grin on his face, green eyes watching Squall as if he were a living breathing person still. "You just never get enough, do you Squally?"
The flash of anger Squall felt at those words were the first feeling he'd acknowledged all day. The holographic face smiling back at him wore a mirror image scar between his eyes and even just a holographic recreation, he understood Squall better than any living person. "You're such an asshole. Eat dinner with me?"
Seifer-hologram rolled his eyes, head tilting back, finger tips touching his chest, right over the black cross on his chest. "I don't need to eat Squally, but I'll watch you, if that's what it takes to get enough nourishment into your weakling organic system so we can have a go at it later."
"Is fighting all you think about?" Squall asked, passing his hand over a sensor so the kitchen utilities would show. Simple foods, a protein burger and vanilla flavored nutri-shake, that was all he had and he didn't miss any thing more complicated.
"At least I'm not a numb nut talking to a hologram. You can only expand my programming so far, Squally. Why don't you go find the real me, if that's what you want so fucking badly?"
Squall dropped his drink, splattering vanilla everywhere. Find Seifer? Seifer was dead. He'd killed Seifer. Seifer was dead. Seifer never came back out of the time compression. Seifer. Squall closed his eyes and he could see so easily those green eyes, the look of shock and horror on them as Squall had struck the final blow in their last battle. Seifer hadn't meant the things he'd done. Squall didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He grasped a handful of hair and leaned forward to touch the cabinet with his forehead. "How am I supposed to find the dead?"
Seifer-hologram started moving through a gunblade kata, moving with effortless grace, perfect as it was each time. "What makes you so sure I'm dead?"
S