The weapon shimmered gently in the pale moonlight, filtering through a window made of stained glass depicting the fall of Ultmecia. Squall carefully polished the sharp edges of his Lionheart, soaking up its dangerous beauty. It was…precious to him, his lifeline, his saviour. Simply two weeks ago, it had been a crude weapon for killing creatures. Now, it had been carefully refined into a sorceress slayer. He looked up from his gun blade and into the splinters of colour that jabbed and poked at his eyes as he gazed through the window. It was sunny outside, a warm afternoon that he could simply sit and watch, revelling in the peace at mind it gave him.
The window had been installed in the chapel not two days ago, yet it shone as if every shard of glass held its share of history that stretched for aeons beyond the dawn of time. In a way, it did share history. That of his own, and of Ultmecia, the fallen sorcerer. Yet now, that was all simply a dream, a mile away, a simple distraction from the awe that struck him down whenever he looked into the window.
After what seemed like an eternity, Squall tore his eyes away from what had been, for a mere twenty seconds, the subject of his life's ambition. That is, to stare into a creation so powerful in every detail, that it would make the strongest warrior fall to his knees.
But know he was back in reality, and that was where his true ambition dwelled, unmet, and taunting him from an area that Squall could never quite reach, no matter how hard he tried. He stroked the scar that should have made him look as tired as his expression, yet instead made him appear wise, and tortured.
All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, and gaze into the wonder that stood simply before him, this window of joy. To many it was just that, a window, but to him, it linked Squall into another dimension where one day he would climb to the highest cliff. He would find the area that had evaded him for so long. He would see Rinoa there.