Disclaimer: -Story owned by me. I will shred the thief with rusty hooks
and sell him to McDonald's
-Song 'All this useless beauty' 'owned by Elvis Costello. Beautiful ballad.
-Squaresoft owns characters and refused to sell them to me. (MEANIES!!!)
******^******
~It's at times such as this she'd be tempted to spit
If she wasn't so ladylike
She imagines how she might have lived
back when legends and history collide~
Perfectly manicured fingers lightly tapped against the luxury fabric of the cloth covering the table. Shimmering reflections on the glittery nail polish matched with the sparkling of the crystal wine glasses, the silver cattery and the bright white smiles. The band engaged for the evening was playing an utterly annoying ballad, for the pleasure of the countless old mummies around there, who danced with joy, cautious not to break their old bones. Quistis felt out of place. Even worst, she felt humiliated. Humiliated in this alien ball gown she had picked up with him, for him. Layers of soft, pricey silk and velvet made love to each other to create a stunning fall of peach, cream and light lavender, held together by a thigh cream corset studded with diamonds. Her feet killed her from the confines of the pricey white leather shoes, cursed by the highest heels she had ever seen.
Somewhere, way too far from her, she recognized his voice, deep and impersonal, with a hint of pride. Such a beautiful, intoxicating voice. He always talked like this, trying to sound like nothing mattered at all, like the old self he had made up through the years, and which got shattered in unrecognizable pieces the day he delivered the final blow to Ultimecia. After that the whole world turned into a playground for him. He stopped hiding from the world, he fell in love for the first time, with Rinoa of course. She had ran around the world giggling like an idiot to get him to notice her. And it worked. But not for long, happily. She stiffened at the wandering thought that maybe, just maybe things would have been better for her if he had stayed with her. Maybe she would have liked to dress like a fairytale princess and smile mindlessly at everyone, like a dog
Or a robot.
It was getting late, she was getting pissed. But Squall didn't like her to leave before he did. He liked a big entrance, and a big leaving. And she complied, because those kind of parties thankfully weren't held often. Although he had started picking the habit of attending every social event held on Gaia, lately.
Absently, Quistis' finger stroked the alliance she wore on her right ring finger. A sparkling sapphire, one of the biggest she had ever seen on a ring, was surrounded by the wings of a beautifully carved dove, its delicate head peeking over the gem. Full of all the promises of marriage. All the happiness she should be feeling, the complicity, the happiness.
Gone?
******^******
~ So she looks to her prince finding he's so charmingly
slumped at her side
Those days are recalled on the gallery wall
And she's waiting for passion or humour to strike~
Much, much later that night, Quistis awoke naked in the shared bed, lightly shivering from the cool breeze coming from the open window, and from her own dream. Beside her, Squall's silent form lightly mumbled incoherencies, as he turned to face her and draped a strong arm around her, just under her breast, where she liked to be held. He knew her so well. Too bad he didn't knew how to use that knowledge.
She had been married for nearly two years now, and happily for a year. Squall had been her childhood and most of her adulthood crush, after all. When he propositioned her, it was a dream coming to life, the only dream she ever thought would never ever find her in reality. But something had gone wrong, and she couldn't tell what it was. For the first ten months, they had been living together like any young couple. Then all of a sudden, something broke. Maybe it was simply the time she took to realize the scowling, adorably grumpy Squall she had known at Garden was no longer behind those beautiful seastorm eyes. He had changed. Time Compression? The slight possession he suffered from Rinoa? Or just growing up? She couldn't tell.
~ What shall we do, what shall we do with all this useless beauty?
All this useless beauty~
Rinoa had been gone for a little more than a year, back to Timber where she hooked up with her old friends and disappeared. Squall had threw her out of Garden and forbidden her ever entering the place again, after she admitted most of the romance that happened between them was a result of her using her newly acquired sorceress powers to create an infatuation on his side. Even General Caraway, her father, couldn't tell where she was, and regularly called Garden in hope they had some fresh news. Maybe she was dead and buried, who knew? The fight for Timber's independence still raged, and a few of the new actions taken were done under Rinoa's old gang name, Timber Owls.
~ Good Friday arrived, the sky darkened on time
'Til he almost began to negotiate
She held his head like a baby and said "It's okay if you cry"~
Squall never talked about her. His face would scrunch up every time her name was spoken. She could tell he was hurt, which was normal. He had been used so many times in his life. So she never asked for details. Everyone had his own demons. Including herself.
Sensing she wouldn't get any more sleep until dawn, Quistis sighed and slid her husband's arm off her body. Her naked skin erupted with goose bump and she hastily grabbed her silk robe to cover herself. The silk was cold and she only shivered harder, cursing Squall for changing her good old pink cotton robe for a more 'classy' one.
Class, wealth, look. Everything that seemed to matter for him. Where was he? Where was the Squall she loved? Without any doubt she loved her husband, loved the grumpy loner she had come to know and tame, and who blushed so cutely the day he gave her the proposition ring. Now he barely even looked at her anymore, not unless she had one of those incredibly expensive dresses complimenting her every features. Not unless she had some rich, influent businessmen and politicians complimenting her, or giving her lecherous looks. Was she a luxury prostitute now?
~Now he wants her to dress as if you couldn't guess
He desires to impress his associates
But he's part ugly beast and Hellenic deceased
So she finds that the mixture is hard to deny~
Tomorrow, they'd leave that luxury hotel room for another one, in Dollet, where a council of politicians was to take place, to discuss the future of the North-Galbadian problem, or whatever other diplomatic dilemma she couldn't even pretend giving a rat's ass anyway. The dress was already chosen, of course not the same as tonight, something skimpier, but still classy, made of stretchy velvet that clung to every curve like a second skin. Hyne how she hated that dress, too.
~ What shall we do, what shall we do with all this useless beauty?
All this useless beauty~
In the small kitchen, the coffee was already in the coffeemaker, so she just poured water in it and turned it on. Soon the reassuring smell of the hot infusion tickled her nose, and caused a flow of memories to come back in her mind. Coffee used to be their main reason to reunite after a mission, a training session, or just because they felt like it. They'd sit in one of their rooms, sipping the burning liquid and talking immature and stupid topics until curtains. And sometimes after. Time fled away so quickly. First the disappearance of Seifer, a few days after hi re- admittance in Garden, when everything seemed to be settled for him. Then her marriage, then Selphie and Irvine's, then the separation of the old gang, as they chose different paths in life. Only Selphie and Irvine stayed in Garden, where they both were teachers. Selphie's first child was due in four months. Despite Irvine's reputation as a heartbreaker, their couple was solid and they radiated happiness. Quistis was surprised how she resented her childhood friend for being so happy. Selphie's life was a never-ending firework. Hers was a dead animal. And she was rotting away, slowly turning from the open-minded, mature instructor she once was to a sour, bitter woman who just turned 20 but looked 40. She had dreamed a lot.
~She won't practice the looks from the great tragic books
That were later disgraced to face celluloid
It won't even make sense but you can bet
If she isn't a sweetheart or plaything or pet
The film turns her into an unveiled threat~
Sunset never looked so much like spilled blood. Mug in hand, Quistis sat on the balcony, oblivious of the chills the silk caused on her skin when the cool morning wind fooled around with it. Quistis smiled bitterly at the nonsensical suicide thoughts that crossed her mind. No matter how often she confronted death with nothing but her whip, she couldn't give herself death by her own hands. The image of her lifeless body in a coffin scared her to the point of crying, maybe because right now, she felt like maybe death would be the only answer to all this.
~ Nonsense prevails, modesty fails
Grace and virtue turn into stupidity
While the calendar fades almost all barricades to a pale compromise~
Tears fell on her hands, and she didn't even recalled crying. Maybe it was an automatism now? She noticed the shaking of her hands as she struggled to put the mug on the table before dropping it on the balcony floor, where it shattered noisily. For a moment she stood still, afraid the noise might have woken Squall up, and that he would come destroy her only moment of solitude in a day. But after a few minutes, she knew he was still sleeping. She let out a breath of relief, and relaxed on the chair. Squall wouldn't wake up until maybe ten, then they would have to pack and leave for Dollet. She was free to be herself until then. To cry and dry her tears so her husband wouldn't see them.
~ And our leaders have feasts on the backsides of beasts
They still think they're the gods of antiquity
If something you missed didn't even exist
It was just an ideal -- is it such a surprise?~
******^******
Author's notes: This is most likely going to be a 3-chapters fanfic, each one being a different songfic. I am not responsible of the fact that Elvis Costello is a very ridiculous name for a guy that make such wonderful ballads-he's a-do-ra-ble :D
Review if you like, flame if you don't ;)
Uh no, don't flame, k?
******^******
~It's at times such as this she'd be tempted to spit
If she wasn't so ladylike
She imagines how she might have lived
back when legends and history collide~
Perfectly manicured fingers lightly tapped against the luxury fabric of the cloth covering the table. Shimmering reflections on the glittery nail polish matched with the sparkling of the crystal wine glasses, the silver cattery and the bright white smiles. The band engaged for the evening was playing an utterly annoying ballad, for the pleasure of the countless old mummies around there, who danced with joy, cautious not to break their old bones. Quistis felt out of place. Even worst, she felt humiliated. Humiliated in this alien ball gown she had picked up with him, for him. Layers of soft, pricey silk and velvet made love to each other to create a stunning fall of peach, cream and light lavender, held together by a thigh cream corset studded with diamonds. Her feet killed her from the confines of the pricey white leather shoes, cursed by the highest heels she had ever seen.
Somewhere, way too far from her, she recognized his voice, deep and impersonal, with a hint of pride. Such a beautiful, intoxicating voice. He always talked like this, trying to sound like nothing mattered at all, like the old self he had made up through the years, and which got shattered in unrecognizable pieces the day he delivered the final blow to Ultimecia. After that the whole world turned into a playground for him. He stopped hiding from the world, he fell in love for the first time, with Rinoa of course. She had ran around the world giggling like an idiot to get him to notice her. And it worked. But not for long, happily. She stiffened at the wandering thought that maybe, just maybe things would have been better for her if he had stayed with her. Maybe she would have liked to dress like a fairytale princess and smile mindlessly at everyone, like a dog
Or a robot.
It was getting late, she was getting pissed. But Squall didn't like her to leave before he did. He liked a big entrance, and a big leaving. And she complied, because those kind of parties thankfully weren't held often. Although he had started picking the habit of attending every social event held on Gaia, lately.
Absently, Quistis' finger stroked the alliance she wore on her right ring finger. A sparkling sapphire, one of the biggest she had ever seen on a ring, was surrounded by the wings of a beautifully carved dove, its delicate head peeking over the gem. Full of all the promises of marriage. All the happiness she should be feeling, the complicity, the happiness.
Gone?
******^******
~ So she looks to her prince finding he's so charmingly
slumped at her side
Those days are recalled on the gallery wall
And she's waiting for passion or humour to strike~
Much, much later that night, Quistis awoke naked in the shared bed, lightly shivering from the cool breeze coming from the open window, and from her own dream. Beside her, Squall's silent form lightly mumbled incoherencies, as he turned to face her and draped a strong arm around her, just under her breast, where she liked to be held. He knew her so well. Too bad he didn't knew how to use that knowledge.
She had been married for nearly two years now, and happily for a year. Squall had been her childhood and most of her adulthood crush, after all. When he propositioned her, it was a dream coming to life, the only dream she ever thought would never ever find her in reality. But something had gone wrong, and she couldn't tell what it was. For the first ten months, they had been living together like any young couple. Then all of a sudden, something broke. Maybe it was simply the time she took to realize the scowling, adorably grumpy Squall she had known at Garden was no longer behind those beautiful seastorm eyes. He had changed. Time Compression? The slight possession he suffered from Rinoa? Or just growing up? She couldn't tell.
~ What shall we do, what shall we do with all this useless beauty?
All this useless beauty~
Rinoa had been gone for a little more than a year, back to Timber where she hooked up with her old friends and disappeared. Squall had threw her out of Garden and forbidden her ever entering the place again, after she admitted most of the romance that happened between them was a result of her using her newly acquired sorceress powers to create an infatuation on his side. Even General Caraway, her father, couldn't tell where she was, and regularly called Garden in hope they had some fresh news. Maybe she was dead and buried, who knew? The fight for Timber's independence still raged, and a few of the new actions taken were done under Rinoa's old gang name, Timber Owls.
~ Good Friday arrived, the sky darkened on time
'Til he almost began to negotiate
She held his head like a baby and said "It's okay if you cry"~
Squall never talked about her. His face would scrunch up every time her name was spoken. She could tell he was hurt, which was normal. He had been used so many times in his life. So she never asked for details. Everyone had his own demons. Including herself.
Sensing she wouldn't get any more sleep until dawn, Quistis sighed and slid her husband's arm off her body. Her naked skin erupted with goose bump and she hastily grabbed her silk robe to cover herself. The silk was cold and she only shivered harder, cursing Squall for changing her good old pink cotton robe for a more 'classy' one.
Class, wealth, look. Everything that seemed to matter for him. Where was he? Where was the Squall she loved? Without any doubt she loved her husband, loved the grumpy loner she had come to know and tame, and who blushed so cutely the day he gave her the proposition ring. Now he barely even looked at her anymore, not unless she had one of those incredibly expensive dresses complimenting her every features. Not unless she had some rich, influent businessmen and politicians complimenting her, or giving her lecherous looks. Was she a luxury prostitute now?
~Now he wants her to dress as if you couldn't guess
He desires to impress his associates
But he's part ugly beast and Hellenic deceased
So she finds that the mixture is hard to deny~
Tomorrow, they'd leave that luxury hotel room for another one, in Dollet, where a council of politicians was to take place, to discuss the future of the North-Galbadian problem, or whatever other diplomatic dilemma she couldn't even pretend giving a rat's ass anyway. The dress was already chosen, of course not the same as tonight, something skimpier, but still classy, made of stretchy velvet that clung to every curve like a second skin. Hyne how she hated that dress, too.
~ What shall we do, what shall we do with all this useless beauty?
All this useless beauty~
In the small kitchen, the coffee was already in the coffeemaker, so she just poured water in it and turned it on. Soon the reassuring smell of the hot infusion tickled her nose, and caused a flow of memories to come back in her mind. Coffee used to be their main reason to reunite after a mission, a training session, or just because they felt like it. They'd sit in one of their rooms, sipping the burning liquid and talking immature and stupid topics until curtains. And sometimes after. Time fled away so quickly. First the disappearance of Seifer, a few days after hi re- admittance in Garden, when everything seemed to be settled for him. Then her marriage, then Selphie and Irvine's, then the separation of the old gang, as they chose different paths in life. Only Selphie and Irvine stayed in Garden, where they both were teachers. Selphie's first child was due in four months. Despite Irvine's reputation as a heartbreaker, their couple was solid and they radiated happiness. Quistis was surprised how she resented her childhood friend for being so happy. Selphie's life was a never-ending firework. Hers was a dead animal. And she was rotting away, slowly turning from the open-minded, mature instructor she once was to a sour, bitter woman who just turned 20 but looked 40. She had dreamed a lot.
~She won't practice the looks from the great tragic books
That were later disgraced to face celluloid
It won't even make sense but you can bet
If she isn't a sweetheart or plaything or pet
The film turns her into an unveiled threat~
Sunset never looked so much like spilled blood. Mug in hand, Quistis sat on the balcony, oblivious of the chills the silk caused on her skin when the cool morning wind fooled around with it. Quistis smiled bitterly at the nonsensical suicide thoughts that crossed her mind. No matter how often she confronted death with nothing but her whip, she couldn't give herself death by her own hands. The image of her lifeless body in a coffin scared her to the point of crying, maybe because right now, she felt like maybe death would be the only answer to all this.
~ Nonsense prevails, modesty fails
Grace and virtue turn into stupidity
While the calendar fades almost all barricades to a pale compromise~
Tears fell on her hands, and she didn't even recalled crying. Maybe it was an automatism now? She noticed the shaking of her hands as she struggled to put the mug on the table before dropping it on the balcony floor, where it shattered noisily. For a moment she stood still, afraid the noise might have woken Squall up, and that he would come destroy her only moment of solitude in a day. But after a few minutes, she knew he was still sleeping. She let out a breath of relief, and relaxed on the chair. Squall wouldn't wake up until maybe ten, then they would have to pack and leave for Dollet. She was free to be herself until then. To cry and dry her tears so her husband wouldn't see them.
~ And our leaders have feasts on the backsides of beasts
They still think they're the gods of antiquity
If something you missed didn't even exist
It was just an ideal -- is it such a surprise?~
******^******
Author's notes: This is most likely going to be a 3-chapters fanfic, each one being a different songfic. I am not responsible of the fact that Elvis Costello is a very ridiculous name for a guy that make such wonderful ballads-he's a-do-ra-ble :D
Review if you like, flame if you don't ;)
Uh no, don't flame, k?