Title: Galatea
Summary: Quistis study. Perfection is over-rated. Post game and cliché.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII and all affiliated characters and/or worlds belong to Squaresoft. Not me.
Notes: Short because I'm feeling lazy.
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Quistis Trepe was perfect.
From the coifs in her natural blonde hair to the shine in her sensible yet stylish boots, there was no doubt about it.
Quistis Trepe was perfect.
She had the evidence to prove this; stacks of papers and certificates and flawless records all pointing out her genius. Untouched times on her SeeD field tests and dozens of cadets-become-SeeDs under her tutelage. A fan club encompassing practically the whole Garden lusted after her, aspired to be her, strove to surpass her - she was the poster child for Balamb's mercenary forces.
And every god-damned fucking student, SeeD, instructor and administrator knew that. But they took her license anyways.
Lacked leadership abilities, they sneered.
She should have seen it coming. They say that when you hit rock bottom, the only direction is up. Why wouldn't it be true the other way around? Perfection was the top of the ladder, and it was a long way down. But perfection had to be maintained, so she'd have to prove herself again.
So she'd helped save time, her and a gangly bunch of barely-SeeDs, and everyone cheered and applauded, and she'd gotten her license reinstated amidst simpering smiles and apologies, Cid at the head with a shit-eating "I knew you could do it" grin plastered on his round face.
She would've told him to go fuck off, because she already knew she could do it, and certainly didn't need him telling her so.
But she was perfect, again. And the perfect proper thing to do was to smile back, nod respectively, and be grateful for this second chance.
More often than not she wished she failed. Blown her chances to be put on that damn pedestal where no-one would try and realize she was flesh and blood and faulty unlike those marble stone goddesses the Shumi were wont to carve.
Which, of course, made absolutely no sense because perfect people don't have thoughts like these, to be something other that they are. Perfect, that is.
And Quistis Trepe was perfect, wasn't she?