Disclaimer: I don't own FF8 and everything in it, Squaresoft does.
So why don't you go your way
And I'll go mine
Live your life, and I'll live mine...
He would never forget that day.
That day he woke up, thinking it was just any normal day. Gone through his daily morning routine of washing his face and attempting to tame his wild hair. And of course, give a little check on Rinoa.
And he would still...never forget that day.
That day he opened the door to her room with his master key, and found it empty.....and an eeriness swept over him...and loneliness. It felt like the room had been abandomed. Although nothing seemed too out of place...
The bed was neatly made, two or three pieces of paper decorated the carpeted floor. That was when his cold icy eyes found the small droplets of dried blood and the crystaline shine of tiny shards of glass still left untouched.
He ran over to the spot and placed a hand on the dried blood that crusted the soft carpet. He glanced upwards, towards her desk. Griever.
All alone...sitting ontop of the wooden desk.
He slowly stood up on his feet, staring at who knows how long, at the metal band. Until finally it hit him. She was gone.
Five Years Later
23 year old Quistis Trepe walked through the quiet hallways of Balamb Garden. It was past curfew, and few people ventured out of their dorms.
But Quistis Trepe had alot on her mind.
She went to the Secret Area of the training centre and gazed up into the night sky. Stars. Stars reminded her of Rinoa, the sorceress, the one who disappeared five years ago...the one who sent Squall into a state of...depression?
You could call it that...yet Quistis was silently mad. She didn't know why, or who she was mad at. Possibly Rinoa for making Squall retreat back into his little world, or possibly just since Rinoa left them all without another word.
We were your friends..weren't we? Quistis smirked slightly, making her gentle features seem cruel for an instance. Or not...
She knew if she was still the same Quistis Trepe six to seven years ago, she would have taken this chance to get to know Squall better. Yet now, she knew she wouldn't and couldn't.
Her lips parted to take in fresh air, and closed almost as soon as it had parted. It was a peaceful night.....silence...yet she heard the sound of fighting back in the training centre and she wondered who would be up so late.
The blonde instructor made her way back in and walked around until she saw a figure. She ducked behind a bush and watched.
Squall.
The young man's feautres were more mature than five years ago...and sadly, Quistis could see the sorrow and madness in his eyes. She frowned deeply.
Why was Squall up so late fighting a bunch of flimsy grats? Maybe for pure amusement yet Quistis knew he didn't do this every night.
That was when she remembered, it was March 3. Rinoa's birthday...to big of a day for the lion himself to bare.
And so he comes here...and strikes at a thousand grats, the fury, the pain, the madness all shown through his strong thrusts of his gunblade.
Quistis sighed, she wondered when his pain would end.
Her fingers danced on the creamy white keys of the grand piano. The sounds of the notes ringing clearly in the vast auditorium, echoed back to her radiant figure.
A slim young woman sat straight and tall on a leather piano bench. Her eyes slightly closed but not quite with an expressionless face. At least to all.
But deep within herself, her expression was one of sorrow and longing. Her thoughts were a blur, and lost within the music she played. But through all her sorrow and misery...
Her fingers still danced.
Lively...and gently...soft...and excited. Her fingers, were her emotions, her emotions, were her songs.
She finally neared the end of her piece, as her fingers hit a chord and ending the song in a gentle quick note. The End.
The girl stood up, her dark raven hair tumbling down her shoulders and around her waist. She bowed and her audience cheered, throwing her roses and petals.
She was showered with praise and admiration of her skill to play the piano. And secretly in her heart, she thanked them all, but she always repeated 'But my mother was better' with a small smile playing on her soft pink lips.
And sometimes people would notice, her strong resemblence of a once well known pianist that had been married to the General Caraway. Yet she still just had that small smile and a shimmer in her eyes. "I am flattered to resemeble such a great person." She would say softly.
Then she would retreat back into her own mind and thoughts...thinking and trying...to control the power running through her veins.
I'll be waiting...for the time I can be with you...
