Disclaimer: The very talented people at Squaresoft own these characters; I'm just borrowing them for a little bit. Buy their games, and give them your money!
==
At an Arm's Length. . .
A Final Fantasy VIII Story
Chapter 25: Fire Cross
Seifer slowly approached Edea's house as the eerie quiet of twilight enveloped his surroundings. One hand found its way to the pocket of his trench and involuntarily started to fidget with the lighter he kept hidden within its folds.
Click. Click.
He stood at the structure's front door.
Click. Click.
He continued to stand on the stoop.
Click – "Damn it!" he muttered, catching himself before a controlled flame escaped from the device. "What am I trying to do here? Catch myself on fire?"
Damn. That's just the kind of thing *she* would say. He grimaced to himself. But which "she"?
He used to be able to tell himself he was referring to Matron, but increasingly he found the former instructor on his mind. "Ughh."
He pulled the silver-plated lighter, a gift from Raijin, out of his pocket and took a deep breath as he pounded on the battered door.
No answer. He flicked on the lighter. The young man exhaled, tested the handle – unlocked – and stepped over the threshold. What am I afraid of anyway?
The single flame cast a faint glow over the few pieces of tattered furniture that remained in the room. He moved along its perimeter, by the windows and toward the kitchen. Some grease stains on the floor – a camping stove? – told him that someone had been there. And fairly recently, he grinned.
I wonder if they made it to our bedrooms…
His boots clunked loudly up the stairs, and he paused as the top step let out a noticeable creeeaak. One corner of his mouth pulled upward into a smirk. Just like old times. No matter how quiet I try to be, everything sounds louder in this house. O.K., the first bedroom here on the … right.
There was no mistaking it. This was the view – of the water and beach – that he remembered from his childhood. He leaned on the window's sill and dumped his duffle bag with a satisfying thud. Forget dinner, I could just stay here all night…
==
He awoke several hours later, slumped near the same window. A rather inelegant snort escaped him as he raked his right hand through his mussed hair. His eyes fell to a thread on the floor that seemed to capture the very glow of the moonlight. He picked it up carefully. A long thread of blond hair. Quistis.
You, or whoever was here, had the right idea. Exploring can wait until tomorrow. He quickly laid his sleeping bag out and fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the hard, but covered, floor.
==
Seifer. Seifer. It's time to get up.
"But I don't wanna…" he replied, half-asleep.
Seifer. Look.
He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes groggily. Still upstairs at the orphanage. He looked around. Still alone. What the fu—?
He paused mid-curse as his gaze fell on the extraordinary scene just beyond his window. Now *that* is a moon! That voice… but… it wasn't the sorceress'. It sounded more familiar, he thought while he pulled a light sweater over his traveling clothes and tugged at his boots.
Instinctively, he thundered down the stairs and off the porch toward the beach. He walked along the moonlit shoreline until he reached a remote point just far enough from the orphanage to be private.
On a night like this, it seems as if anything could happen…
Sometimes it does, replied the voice from behind him.
He flung himself around. No one here?!
We're always watching.
"What good is watching if you don't do anything," he grumbled and continued on his way through the entrance of a cave. "Wait… you were the one of… you left us gifts, didn't you?"
No answer.
Seifer's eyes narrowed. Sure, now you're quiet.
From Quistis.
His eyes widened considerably, and he dropped to the floor. With some effort (and a few more choice words), he fit his adult-sized fingers into the child-sized cubby. A small, but familiar package found its way into his palm. The handkerchief, but this time the ribbon was tied – apparently hastily – in the way only girls can tie such things. A curious smile came over his features as he opened the parcel and discovered a thin gold band with a cluster of tiny sapphires. Quistis' ring.
He examined it more closely and tried to slide it onto his pinky. Tiny. It doesn't even fit over the first joint.
"Ah!" He unclasped his silver necklace and slid it onto the chain. As he fastened it securely around his neck, the ring fell into a resting place over the cross pendant he had commissioned from one of the craftsmen at Fisherman's Horizon.
Look.
He did, and a blue flame – just like Quistis that day – emitted from the ring fusing it to the cross.
He stared at it, confused but, strangely enough, still calm.
Be strong. For Quistis.
"Who are you? And what do you want from me?" he asked aloud, reminding himself silently that losing it wouldn't help the situation.
Repent.
==
The sound of waves crashing on the beach accompanied the bright sunlight that beat down on him when he awoke the next morning.
"Hyne," he squinted, then lowered his head. "Please don't let it be another sorceress…"
Seifer's eyes fell upon the transformed charm. "You know you're in trouble when you start listening to the voices in your head," he whispered. "Repent."
==
Next chapter: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
==
Author's Notes: I took an incredibly long hiatus. (It's been hard getting back into this.) I know I suck. But you rock for taking time to read this. ^_^
I love reviews, so if you feel the urge, go ahead and hit the little button to the bottom left of the page. I really appreciate the feedback.
Thanks, again! Be sure to check out my sites if you get a chance …
- Absolute-0.com: Anime, manga, movie and music reviews (plus my professional portfolio)
- ProjectSurlyGirl.com: My fiction site. Bookmark it. If ff.net ever has problems, all installments of my stories will be posted – without interruption – on this site.