Chapter 2
The dream is always the same.
I'm standing barefoot in the swirling mists while rain falls around me. Infinite droplets of water plummeting gently to the earth. Obscured in their purpose, accurate in their fall. Cool to the touch. Beautiful, but just lines in my vision. Straight, slanting, silvery lines cutting through the ambiguity of the evening air.
Somewhere, the sweet smell of thyme drifts lazily through a valley. I lean into the rain; head titled upwards, golden wisps of hair flying into the moonlight… I'm always with an ignorant smile.
"Murderer..."
I whirl around, call out a soundless name.
There's never anyone there.
Suddenly, the tip of some metal thing arches out of my neck. Time constricts, and my hands grasp clumsily for the object, but there is no cry of pain. Just a soft murmur.
I close my eyes, finger the soft velvety part around the metal, feel the liquid warm as mothers milk sliding down the back of my throat…
"Murderer…" they accuse, hissing, slurring over the word, their voices one – "Murderer."
… And I realize how disturbingly grateful I am for this act of reprieve.
The dream ends there, and each time I wake I am no longer the same.
*
"… And that concludes the most horrible experience of my life," the freshman announced proudly. Few around him snickered. Quistis Trepe smiled.
"Very good Nigel," she remarked absently, setting her glasses down on her desk. When she spoke again, her voice was very different. "I hope this session has given you all a chance to get to know your fellow classmates a little better. Tomorrow SeeD training officially begins, so I expect you all down in the training area at seven a.m. sharp. If you're going to be late, don't bother showing up at all. Class dismissed."
Ignoring the dreamy gazes of half the male students in her class, Quistis gathered her materials and was the first one out the door. Once in the hallway, she mixed herself among the throng of bodies, relieved to have finally attained some anonymity. The constant attention was suffocating.
Making a mental note to inform Squall of her change in schedule, she made an abrupt turn for the elevator and caught it a moment before the doors closed.
"Second floor, please." She said to the man by the button console. When he didn't move, she frowned then politely repeated her question. Still, she got no response.
Irritated, she reached over intending to press the button herself, when he suddenly turned to her and said, "you're Quistis Trepe, aren't you?"
"Yes." She replied indifferently, not really in the mood to talk. A slight pounding sensation had begun at the base of her neck, and she wasn't exactly keen on conversation. "Anything else?"
The man shook his head. But Quistis could still feel his eyes of her, and she purposefully avoided his gaze.
"Thyme."
Quistis looked up. She met a pair of murky green eyes. "What?"
"Thyme. You always loved the smell of Thyme."
Her next breath was stolen from her as a haunting aroma filled her nose, permeated her memory…
*
"Seifer, please stopped fighting with Squall!" I pleaded, once again having to step between the two of them. A line of blood traced the right side of Squall's knee, and the young boy looked about ready to cry. "You know you've won."
"No he hasn't!" Squall blurted out, rubbing the water out of his eyes. "I'm stronger than he is!"
"Really now Mr. Cry baby?" Seifer sneered, trying to move around me. "Prove it!"
"Stop it NOW!" I yelled, giving Seifer a harsh glare before turning to talk to the enraged Squall. I managed to convince him that Irvine and Selphie were about to set off fire works, so he backed off and ran back to the beach, albeit reluctantly. As I watched him go, a part of me was a little in awe of Squall's determination to best Seifer against all odds, while another part of me feared the type of person he might become once he grew up. Fearless and full of courage, what kind of trouble would he get himself into then?
"You kinda like that brat, don't you Quisty?" Seifer asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I shrugged. "He's no more of a brat than you are." I retorted. "I like you both just the same."
Seifer gave me a knowing look.
"C'mon, you must like me better. Because if you like me better, I have something to give you."
A little curious, but also a little wary since the last gift I had received from Seifer was a venomous bug bite and a weeks worth of sickness, I watched as he fished something out of his pocket.
"What is it?"
"Say you like me better."
"I told you, I-"
"Say you like me better," he insisted. Knowing that he wasn't going to budge on the issue, I decided that it could do no harm to give in to his demands.
"I like you better." I said with a sigh.
Smiling, not sneering, Seifer grabbed hold of my hand then placed something soft in the palm of it. It seemed like an herb of some sort, emitting a peculiar smell which washed over me with all of the calming effects of rain. So captivated was I by its scent that I hardly noticed a pair of eyes peeking out from the bushes behind us, watching intently.
"What is it?" I asked softly, unable to take my eyes off it.
"Matron calls it Thyme."
*
When she finally broke out of her thoughts, the man was gone, and all she was left with was the broken image of a traitor and the sterile air.