"Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us." – Jim Carroll

"I want to look at humans."

A pause.

"I want to look at our humans." The clarified statement followed with an indignant huff. The individual in question, a mahogany woman dressed in a strapless crimson jumpsuit, despaired at looking at another word in the arcane tomb on the floor, in the center of the room. A golden aura radiating off of it, highlighting her appearance to showcase ethereal radiance. Rolling her eyes at no one, she decides to take her violet-brown heterochromatic sights towards her pale husband. A handsome man who was fit and still in his prime, regardless of the signs of aging.

"That's a sentence if I ever heard one." He replied mirthfully, casting his equally amused grey eyes towards her. The woman of darker complexion, Kajol stood in their living room with her hands on her hips before walking over to where her husband sat. Three silver streaks in her presently wavy raven hair, two in front where her bangs were, and a third on the crown in the back.

"I want to see our friends, Squall," The former Sorceress admits.

"It's been so long Beloved." She moved to sit next to him as he tended to one of his gunblades. Sometimes habits were hard to die off, even if that included being a mercenary specialist that intended to keep his weapons clean. The man she called husband was blessed with how kind time and genetics were to the Leonhart in question. A healthy peach complexion, a faded scar that he's worn since he was seventeen, coupled with steel grey eyes that were once cold but the years allowed them to be full of warmth. Crow's feet lightly forming at the edges of his eyes and a faint wrinkle of a laugh line around his lips was forming. His athletic and mercenary build never diminished as the upper half of his body was pure muscle while the lower half was lean in comparison. Squall even had his own silver streaks in his shoulder-length brunette hair, courtesy of being a Sorceress Knight to his Wife. The detail of using magic stronger than his body could handle was just semantics, considering the payoff was a cool cosmetic gift for the rest of his life.

From: His late twenties

To: Forever

Much love,

His younger self.

When he was Commander, he couldn't exactly hide his contentment of being called the Silver Lion of Balamb. Had a nice ring to it, even if his silver hair was in streaks and not in full. Humorous in retrospect since his father, Laguna, thought it was odd that his son would grey before him. The circumstances made sense even though it provided a headscratcher for the former President of Esthar.

Squall felt her eyes on him. Intentionally applying pressure for him to pay attention to her and yield to her request. It did not take long considering he had the same desire to want to see them. He wants to know how they were doing. It felt so long ago even though time was relative, for them at least.

"It would be nice to pay them a visit, huh?" He finally decided to acknowledge her indulgence. Kajol beamed causing that charming left dimple to show itself. He found it contagious as it always caused him to break out into a smile of his own. Years have taught him that his biggest weakness was seeing that dazzling smile. There's no reason to deny her either.

Conceding, the lion held his gloved hands up in mock surrender, "Alright, let's surprise them."

Standing to his full height before walking over to the wall near all the family and friend pictures and portraits to mount Lionheart. That gunblade may have been outdated as time had progressed, but it holds a special place in his heart. He couldn't even remember the last time he used this blade. Squall wasn't sure if the Guardian Forces had blurred the last time he used it or he was just getting older in age.

"I can't wait to see the look on their faces." The former Commodore gushed, cheeks hurting from all her grinning. He smirks while reaching for an article of clothing—his leather jacket with the white faux fur. It had been many years since he last wore it. He considered this a special occasion of sorts, so he would comb out the fur to make it look presentable again.

It made him feel nostalgic after all.

A/N: This is for Escapril 2021 for Day 13's prompt "Life After Death". They opened their poetry challenge to being available for all those of writing platforms and honestly? I was more than stoked to do this challenge. I do warn people... this is going to be sad before it's even remotely good.