"The Moribund People"

Author's Note: "The Moribund People" is the final part of "The Symptoms Trilogy" which is made of "Symptoms of Mercy", "Mind Fields", and this one. I don't own any of FFVIII, but I DO own the previous events. On another note, the lyrics are from a song by Charon, and its titled as "Little Angel".

Prologue: "Death Is..."

Quistis Trepe stood at the edge of the cave which once was Ayreona's fortress. She tasted the name, and felt the bitterness spreading to her tongue; bitterness towards her crimes, towards all that Ayreona had done... The great power, the greater demise, and ultimate reconciliation. These were the thoughts that swirled around in her head, as the wind blew towards her SeeD uniform, and took her hair away from her face. She looked down onto the soil, where she remembered his words.

"Quistis... I need you to do something for me."

She looked up towards the ceiling, the walls of dissonant and disoriented shapes moving upwards, reaching for the peak of her sorrow which was now falling from that peak; falling onto the ground.

"Not fair!" she whispered to the emptiness, and heard her words echoing, as she tasted her tears with them once again, "Not fair!"

Suddenly, a sound emerged from her right side. Quistis turned around immediately, pulling out a handgun that she had kept with herself for her own protection; a small dillinger, but still, it was lethal. She focused into the darkness, trying to see, trying to find a shape moving.

Something was coming alive.

Quistis' eyes grew wide as she spotted the shadow that was slowly creeping upwards through the sides of the stone bridge she was on. She could feel cold sweat embracing her body, as a hand pressed against the surface; a hand with broken bones, a hand with bleeding skin, a hand with a cruel grasp to it; the hand of suffering.

"Stay right where you are!" she shouted.

The hand remained still for a few seconds. And then, it tensed, creasing into the soil, it body upon the stone, a body that was shrouded by ripped, black clothes and blood spilling through like various geysers onto his skin. The moment the feet hit the ground, Quistis pulled the trigger. But already this man had pushed the ground to pick up a frantic running pace, one that was not disturbed by the various inconsistencies of the stone, or his bleeding legs. The bullet entered his shoulder and spilled his blood, but he didn't even slow down; he was advancing with a speed that prevented Quistis from shooting a second time; his hand had already grabbed hold of her wrist, and had squeezed it tight enough for her grip on the gun to shake loose. She gasped as she felt his free hand gripping her throat and pressuring her backwards. Through the bloodstained, dirty, yet disheveled hair, Quistis saw a pair of ice-blue eyes that were now burning with a fire inside.

There was an eerie look in those eyes that she knew; something was broken behind, broken, and placed back together wrong, like a porcelain doll... or a soul itself. He tilted his head backwards to throw bits of his hair away from his eyes, and Quistis saw that unmistakable scar shining beneath.

"Squall!" she gasped, her eyes opening wide in shock, her free hand unable to stop his hard grip that was pressuring her windpipe, her body unable to move. Somehow, she knew that his hand that she wished to caress her was about to be the death of her.

"Squall, please..." Quistis begged to him, as he straightened his posture and held her up with one hand, not bothering both of her hands closing in around his wrist as he held her up by the throat.

Quistis could feel the need for breath rising. She found his grip to be merciless, his eyes were still looking at her, but...

Great Hyne in heaven!

He was smiling. It was a sadistic smile of ultimate pleasure taken from her pain, and her pain alone. He was smiling... at her Death.

Instinct took over her, and her boot landed onto his nose, breaking it. Quistis sensed a shake in his grip; almost a shiver. Using both feet, she continued to beat onto his nose, all the while, feeling each impact deep inside of her heart; beating her down, down, down, down, down...

Suddenly, Quistis felt his weight leave her, and she managed to land on her feet, saw him retreating, saw him trying to balance the world while trying to wipe the blood and tears... Like a wild animal, he snarled, keeping that smile upon his face.

"Are you going to fight me..?" he asked, his voice still as subtle and serene as before, "My love, when did you start to hate me? Is it because I didn't bring you candy and flowers..?"

"Don't..." Quistis could let out, feeling the thorn crown of misery hanging onto her heart, closing in on her soul and dipping those thorns deeper than anything else could reach.

"But now, my love, if you don't want this, you will let me go... like you let me go as Ayreona took control."

"I can't..." she said, embracing herself, and looking away from him. She could not face this man against whom she had committed so many crimes. She could not push away the guilt, could not ignore the verdict... the guards were coming to take her away.

"Yes you can." He said, keeping up his sickened smile and intense eyes, and walking casually over to her, "And you will, my love."

He knew that he had her. He knew that those two words were more powerful than any weapon he could hold inside of his hands; this weapon on his tongue was more destructive upon her; far more than any other thing was. He chuckled.

"We'll meet again, my love..." he said, and brushed past her, leaving her desolate in her own downward spiral. Quistis turned her head to hear what Squall was humming a bit better, to understand, to find a clue or the whole truth.

He was singing.

"Little angel
Your world can be so cruel
I set your wings on fire every night
I die for you every time I see you cry..."

Thus he left... leaving Quistis hanging atop a knife, desolate and spinning inside herself; lost, in that distinct sense of belonging and memoirs of that feeling.