It's a pen! It's paper! It's the AUTHOR!
Dum de de dum...
Yes indeed, reports of my death are greatly exaggerated. I am still here! *crowds cheer* To be honest, I've had this part written for quite a few days now, and never had the time or inclination to type it up. A piece of advice for all those out there with summer jobs: if work calls during dinner one night and asks you to work 8 and a half hours the next day, say no. x.x
Anyway, the delay was then, and this is now, with a brand-spanking new chapter for you to read! So before you do so, there are only two things you need to know:
1.) Peripetia is a greek term, used to describe a point in a tragedy where things have changed so drastically that they cannot return to the way they formerly were. Basically it's a point of no return. (Don't you all feel proud that you know that now? Impress your friends! :)
2.) Q: "What are you going to do tonight, Lyaka?"
A: "Try to take over the world!"
It will happen (one day *crosses fingers*), but until then Squaresoft still owns them. *sighs*
Go for it!
---------------
~Hourglass~
---------------
10:50 AM
(He said)
The shadow of the building swallows us up far more swiftly than is comfortable, yet I feel as if we are stuck in slow motion. Belatedly I'm being hit with the reality of the situation. Realizing there was a chance to undo what I'd done did not mean actually doing it. Sitting in the disciplinary room was somehow removed from action. Even Balamb's sleepy, peaceful atmosphere lulled me for a time. But in the clammy, dim interior of the train station the last barriers are stripped away. Truth comes crashing in. This is tangible, this is real. This is happening.
10:51 AM
(She said)
I shiver for reasons not fully understood. Instinctively I press closer, if that's even possible; we've been walking together already, almost snuggled in. The thought is almost enough to make me blush; if I dreamed of this I've forgotten, but a haunting familiarity lingers in the air, a sense of dèja vu all over again; an uncanny feeling that it's all been done before. But I can't spare the heat to blush, can only hope to reclaim the heat leeched from my skin in the darkened chill of the departure platform.
The ticked booth is garish in the half-light, colors futuristic at the time of building now depressingly dated twenty years later. The sleek modernity of the bullet train is in marked contrast waiting through the aperture beyond it. No one in Balamb travels much, and tax bills to renovate the old station always get voted down. SeeDs don't get voting rights; our professional immunity means we're citizens of Garden, instead of a country; but we're the reason the trains keep running through.
Behind the counter stands the same man who's been here since the station opened. The yellowing photograph of the ribbon cutting, hanging on the wall over his head, shows a bright, cheerful young man. Now I see only a grumpy, middle-aged bachelor, worn and exhausted by too many years of manning a forgotten station frequented only by mercenaries.
The tickets are duly bought, and he wishes us a pleasant journey in words meaningless from endless, uninterested repetition. I thank him anyway, and the surprised flicker of life and gratitude that passes over his face is all the marks the difference between the musty, dying waystation and himself.
We step into the open air next to the tracks on the far side of the building, bypassing the bullet train meant for dignitaries to reach the familiar passenger/freight train waiting for more ordinary, paying customers. Slowly we walk down, searching for the insignia on one of the cars that indicates there's a compartment aboard reserved for SeeD.
It's a long walk, the cargo being attached to the control car first. Seifer says nothing as we walk past rows of freight stamped with the logo of ShinRa, Inc., his thoughts turned inward. I wonder what's going through his head- he knows so much more than I, and that knowledge can't be other than painful in this position. I consider touching his shoulder, breaking him out of it, but as freight cars give way to passenger compartments I decide it's better if he does his second-guessing now rather than later, after the fact, when he's got hindsight to guilt himself with.
A handful of cars ahead, I spot the SeeD motif, catching the light.
From here I can see the clock. It's no time in particular.
10:53 AM
(He said)
All too soon we're there, and I wonder if the journey to Timber will pass with the same unknowing rapidity. Or will it drag out, endlessly, like skirting a black hole and watching light fall away until only blackness tests your limits as time approaches infinity...
Neither is appealing.
Seeing that I've come out of contemplation Quistis offers me a comforting smile. When did we switch roles, I wonder. I was trying to heal /her/, to heal the world.
[No one has a monopoly on love,] Alexander counsels soberly, his words for once untouched by impatience or bitterness. [Light is good from whatever source it shines.]
Silence seems to fit. There are no words that need speaking between us, whether insult or apology. Without need for pretense or performance we can simply be.
The time for wonder and worry is rapidly coming to an end. In a little over two hours will be enacted the events that will plunge the world into chaos, whether it ends quickly thereafter or draws out again. Then there will be no turning back, no second-guessing. The point of peripetia will have been reached and passed.
In light of the destruction yet to come, in the darkness of what loss will not occur, my worries seem small and petty. Foreknowledge is everything. Ultimecia had it, and the havoc she wreaked was terrible to see. But know I have it, too, and with mine to counter hers a balance an be struck, a balance previously sorely lacking.
Even knowing all this, the magnitude still overwhelms.
I want to change the world.
10:54 AM
(She said)
The all-aboard call comes just as we reach the SeeD cabin. In front and behind us the few passengers who had gotten off to stretch their legs head back towards their respective compartments. The train will be mostly empty, this time of day; the serious travelers have already caught earlier trains, vacationers don't usually leave until after lunch, and most arrivals have either already gotten in or won't until fourteen hundred or later. The train will fill up at Timber, though; the 1304 to Deling City is always crowded.
I climb aboard first and head straight for the keypad, first swiping my SeeD ID/credit then punching in my PIN. The device double beeps- accepted-- and the light turns green. I wave a hand at the door and it opens with an inviting /swoosh/. Then I turn back towards Seifer.
10:55 AM
(He said)
The train's whistle blows stridently, summoning its crewers back from their coffee and restroom breaks.
I pause briefly, halfway up the steps, one hand still on the metal guardrail, and look behind me. The top of Balamb Garden is barely visible on the horizon, its dome gleaming, unobstructed from the sun. I remember the pride I felt when I sat on the pier in FH and watched it fly overhead, strong and magnificent. I remember the uniform, and how badly I wanted it. I remember the worry, the doubt, and especially the questions.
Then I look up, and the last die unasked. Quistis stands there waiting for me, framed in the train's narrow doorway. morning sunlight catches on her, coalescing in her golden hair, flaring around her in a glimmering corona. Stray bits of light catch on the metal of the train and refract in her eyes.
She's smart and funny and deadly and altogether beautiful.
She is my reason. For her I can face Ultimecia and my demons. Erase them, so that things can be different, this time around, for she and I, for Squall and Rinoa, for Zell and Selphie and Irvine and countless people I never knew, never met, before I sent them to die.
And for her sake, for their sake, for all of our sakes, I step up, into the darkness within; or perhaps the light.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kon'de ashimai
(the end...)
The epilogue will be up in a few days, I *think*; well, Wednesday at the absolute latest, since I go back to school Thursday (shudders) and I'd like to wrap it up before then. The Author's Notes will be out a few days after that. I know a lot of people tend to skip them, but you really shouldn't. I'm going to explain a lot of things, mention you (that's right! you personally!), point out each and every place I quoted/referenced something (so you can do a happy dance and go "oooh! oooh! I knew that!") and include a teaser for my new project. So stay tuned.
Now, if you want your name to be up in lights, I have to know what it is first! Fortunately, there's an easy solution: leave me a review. Or else when I take over the world, you're getting *my* current job. Mwahahahaha.
Lyaka ^^
(oooh! what does this button do?)
Dum de de dum...
Yes indeed, reports of my death are greatly exaggerated. I am still here! *crowds cheer* To be honest, I've had this part written for quite a few days now, and never had the time or inclination to type it up. A piece of advice for all those out there with summer jobs: if work calls during dinner one night and asks you to work 8 and a half hours the next day, say no. x.x
Anyway, the delay was then, and this is now, with a brand-spanking new chapter for you to read! So before you do so, there are only two things you need to know:
1.) Peripetia is a greek term, used to describe a point in a tragedy where things have changed so drastically that they cannot return to the way they formerly were. Basically it's a point of no return. (Don't you all feel proud that you know that now? Impress your friends! :)
2.) Q: "What are you going to do tonight, Lyaka?"
A: "Try to take over the world!"
It will happen (one day *crosses fingers*), but until then Squaresoft still owns them. *sighs*
Go for it!
---------------
~Hourglass~
---------------
10:50 AM
(He said)
The shadow of the building swallows us up far more swiftly than is comfortable, yet I feel as if we are stuck in slow motion. Belatedly I'm being hit with the reality of the situation. Realizing there was a chance to undo what I'd done did not mean actually doing it. Sitting in the disciplinary room was somehow removed from action. Even Balamb's sleepy, peaceful atmosphere lulled me for a time. But in the clammy, dim interior of the train station the last barriers are stripped away. Truth comes crashing in. This is tangible, this is real. This is happening.
10:51 AM
(She said)
I shiver for reasons not fully understood. Instinctively I press closer, if that's even possible; we've been walking together already, almost snuggled in. The thought is almost enough to make me blush; if I dreamed of this I've forgotten, but a haunting familiarity lingers in the air, a sense of dèja vu all over again; an uncanny feeling that it's all been done before. But I can't spare the heat to blush, can only hope to reclaim the heat leeched from my skin in the darkened chill of the departure platform.
The ticked booth is garish in the half-light, colors futuristic at the time of building now depressingly dated twenty years later. The sleek modernity of the bullet train is in marked contrast waiting through the aperture beyond it. No one in Balamb travels much, and tax bills to renovate the old station always get voted down. SeeDs don't get voting rights; our professional immunity means we're citizens of Garden, instead of a country; but we're the reason the trains keep running through.
Behind the counter stands the same man who's been here since the station opened. The yellowing photograph of the ribbon cutting, hanging on the wall over his head, shows a bright, cheerful young man. Now I see only a grumpy, middle-aged bachelor, worn and exhausted by too many years of manning a forgotten station frequented only by mercenaries.
The tickets are duly bought, and he wishes us a pleasant journey in words meaningless from endless, uninterested repetition. I thank him anyway, and the surprised flicker of life and gratitude that passes over his face is all the marks the difference between the musty, dying waystation and himself.
We step into the open air next to the tracks on the far side of the building, bypassing the bullet train meant for dignitaries to reach the familiar passenger/freight train waiting for more ordinary, paying customers. Slowly we walk down, searching for the insignia on one of the cars that indicates there's a compartment aboard reserved for SeeD.
It's a long walk, the cargo being attached to the control car first. Seifer says nothing as we walk past rows of freight stamped with the logo of ShinRa, Inc., his thoughts turned inward. I wonder what's going through his head- he knows so much more than I, and that knowledge can't be other than painful in this position. I consider touching his shoulder, breaking him out of it, but as freight cars give way to passenger compartments I decide it's better if he does his second-guessing now rather than later, after the fact, when he's got hindsight to guilt himself with.
A handful of cars ahead, I spot the SeeD motif, catching the light.
From here I can see the clock. It's no time in particular.
10:53 AM
(He said)
All too soon we're there, and I wonder if the journey to Timber will pass with the same unknowing rapidity. Or will it drag out, endlessly, like skirting a black hole and watching light fall away until only blackness tests your limits as time approaches infinity...
Neither is appealing.
Seeing that I've come out of contemplation Quistis offers me a comforting smile. When did we switch roles, I wonder. I was trying to heal /her/, to heal the world.
[No one has a monopoly on love,] Alexander counsels soberly, his words for once untouched by impatience or bitterness. [Light is good from whatever source it shines.]
Silence seems to fit. There are no words that need speaking between us, whether insult or apology. Without need for pretense or performance we can simply be.
The time for wonder and worry is rapidly coming to an end. In a little over two hours will be enacted the events that will plunge the world into chaos, whether it ends quickly thereafter or draws out again. Then there will be no turning back, no second-guessing. The point of peripetia will have been reached and passed.
In light of the destruction yet to come, in the darkness of what loss will not occur, my worries seem small and petty. Foreknowledge is everything. Ultimecia had it, and the havoc she wreaked was terrible to see. But know I have it, too, and with mine to counter hers a balance an be struck, a balance previously sorely lacking.
Even knowing all this, the magnitude still overwhelms.
I want to change the world.
10:54 AM
(She said)
The all-aboard call comes just as we reach the SeeD cabin. In front and behind us the few passengers who had gotten off to stretch their legs head back towards their respective compartments. The train will be mostly empty, this time of day; the serious travelers have already caught earlier trains, vacationers don't usually leave until after lunch, and most arrivals have either already gotten in or won't until fourteen hundred or later. The train will fill up at Timber, though; the 1304 to Deling City is always crowded.
I climb aboard first and head straight for the keypad, first swiping my SeeD ID/credit then punching in my PIN. The device double beeps- accepted-- and the light turns green. I wave a hand at the door and it opens with an inviting /swoosh/. Then I turn back towards Seifer.
10:55 AM
(He said)
The train's whistle blows stridently, summoning its crewers back from their coffee and restroom breaks.
I pause briefly, halfway up the steps, one hand still on the metal guardrail, and look behind me. The top of Balamb Garden is barely visible on the horizon, its dome gleaming, unobstructed from the sun. I remember the pride I felt when I sat on the pier in FH and watched it fly overhead, strong and magnificent. I remember the uniform, and how badly I wanted it. I remember the worry, the doubt, and especially the questions.
Then I look up, and the last die unasked. Quistis stands there waiting for me, framed in the train's narrow doorway. morning sunlight catches on her, coalescing in her golden hair, flaring around her in a glimmering corona. Stray bits of light catch on the metal of the train and refract in her eyes.
She's smart and funny and deadly and altogether beautiful.
She is my reason. For her I can face Ultimecia and my demons. Erase them, so that things can be different, this time around, for she and I, for Squall and Rinoa, for Zell and Selphie and Irvine and countless people I never knew, never met, before I sent them to die.
And for her sake, for their sake, for all of our sakes, I step up, into the darkness within; or perhaps the light.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kon'de ashimai
(the end...)
The epilogue will be up in a few days, I *think*; well, Wednesday at the absolute latest, since I go back to school Thursday (shudders) and I'd like to wrap it up before then. The Author's Notes will be out a few days after that. I know a lot of people tend to skip them, but you really shouldn't. I'm going to explain a lot of things, mention you (that's right! you personally!), point out each and every place I quoted/referenced something (so you can do a happy dance and go "oooh! oooh! I knew that!") and include a teaser for my new project. So stay tuned.
Now, if you want your name to be up in lights, I have to know what it is first! Fortunately, there's an easy solution: leave me a review. Or else when I take over the world, you're getting *my* current job. Mwahahahaha.
Lyaka ^^
(oooh! what does this button do?)