Shinwa: Er, Granted, I guess.
Shootinstar: I probably should've mentioned before that Im not completely following the character setup of the game, eh? I like fleshing character possibilities out more.
Gracious Rose: The picture HAS been drawn actually. Its not quite finished actually, but It'll be put up somewhere once its completed, inked and possibly colored.
Hopemia: Good god, are you reading everything I've written? I certantly hope not considering how much is crap. 'Whats wrong with squall?!' got me realizing I threw you all into the middle of a plot without describing WHY he's acting that way though.
Welcome to the chapter that explains some things.
Title: Secret Talent (Part 3)
Author: BlackCypress, TheBeopCow, TheLetterD, Eman Modnar, take your pick.
Warnings: This veers away some from the general conceptions of the characters. If you were looking for a cutsy, perry, attention needy Squall, dont look here. If your looking for a Seifer/Zell pairing, you have got to be out of your mind. And no, I have no idea where this story is going.
Rating: *Shrugs*
Pairngs: None really.
Plot: I had some when I started. cant remember what it was now though. Oops.
---
Sharing memories indeed. Zell had showered and touched himself up a bit once he'd gotten back to his dorm and locked the door. He, Seifer and Squall all had some very keen ememories shared with eachother. Unlike the happy-go-lucky Zell everyone else saw, he did not laugh and play when he'd been cornered in the halls by the gunbladesmen. Not since he'd been adopted by Ma while the other two were only taken in by the Garden.
There was always some bad blood between those kids at the orphanage who got adopted and those who didnt. Sure, we were all glad when the girls got somewhere else safe to live away from us boys, but... Zell getting picked over everyone else to have someone willing to call one of them Son. That was rare. And picking the hyperactive runt kid was even rarer. That was his only clear memory of the Orphanage until Irvine came along and reminded them all of it.
When Irvine showed up, Squall tried to beat Zell again. Zell just kep tsaying quiet about it, taking damages and blows, anything that Squall could take out on him. Squall had the wight of the world on his shoulders put on him and Zell couldnt find it in his heart to condemn him. Even when Seifer was still around.
Ofcourse, the blade whipping had all been Seifer's idea. It wasnt just the lack of following orders that had kept Seifer from being SeeD. Some people were convinced he was perposly failing the tests, holding back in school so he could remain the bully. Others hoowever, like Doctor Kadowaki who'd found out about what they did to him, held the man back so they could keep an eye on him.
Laying back in his bed, Zell looked down at the thin faint and not so fain lines and scars that criss crossed over his torso and belly. They were on his arms and legs too, but less noticable. The few times they'd made a mark large or deep enough that his clothes didnt covor it, he'd just gone skipping off to the doctors office saying he'd been attacked by Grat or fell out of a tree in the Quad or some other silly thing.
There were a lot of reasons Zell was the person he was today. With his fighting, his art, his socialness. He wouldnt have known how to smile even when he was scared or hurt if it hadnt been for Seifer and Squall beating him before every mission. He'd almost died the first few times, before he started to convince himself they were just trying to make him stronger. It was kind of funny to think back on it now after the war. If they'd been nice to him and never did this, he would've snapped like a twig unter the pressure of the war.
Reahing out, he fetched his personal sketch book and a pencil, begining to draw. Nothing specific really, just letting his mind wander.
Everyone knew Zell was good at hand to hand. But no one in the school taught it. Yes, there were basic unarmed combat classes, but Zell's fighting style was all his own. There was no one in Balamb Garden that could copy it or even knew all the components he'd drawn from. That all routed back to theyounger years in the Garden too. Proving being the smallest didnt mean the weakest.
He'd gone out when he could, every chance he got, constantly researching the next big names in street fighting, boxing, stylized martial arts, monster wrestling, even watching little kids playing war with eachother. Plays, history, dances. Hell, he'd been taking classes in Yoga recently. All in the namesake that some day his two fists mght rival those of the two bloodied blades in his nightmares.
His art had developed aroudn that time too. Doodling some of the fighters in action on napkins at bars onr corner cafes until he had enough quick form to draw something memorble on paper. Some fighing classes had concentrated on relaxing and finding his inner peace and tranquility. He had meditated in medows to calm him down and started noticing things. Details in the landscape. Colors, patterns, shades and light. Applied to paper, he was testy at first. His earlier drawing slooking like a mess of shapes and lines.
Now though, he was developed enough to draw things form memory. And his memories seemed to be what several magazines were looking for right now. So when he wasnt fighting for his life or those of others, he found some time to practice and draw.
He found himself sketching Squall. His head hung down, and his body looking weak and broken, clothes tattered and torn, bleeding here and there. Memories of what he'd looked like when one of the sorceresses used Seifer like a puppet and brutally tortured him for information. He remembered that pretty strongly. He'd spoken truth and was still punished for it. His body had collapsed, but when he'd hopened his eyes the next day after slogging through still another mission, Zell had seen such a vibrant determination in his eyes.
Squall may have hated the position he was forced into, but he was far too spirited to just lay down and die because someone told him to. Zell supposed that was the reason so many people looked on to him as a hero more than anyone else. Each and every one of them had their times to question their journey. Squall's journy WAS his questioning, and now he'd found himself in a nook he was handling better than anyone expected.
Being Headmaster of Balamb wasnt exactly an easy task, after all, war or not. Though the Shumi were pleased that NORG had been removed from his seat of power withing Balamb's basement, they did not have any substancial representitives to help out with continual funs. The staff they had was dindling gradually as it was. Squall now had tasks of finding not only jobs for the students, but funding to continue housing and prime living conditions for the the worlds best neutral military aspect.
Food, clothes, challenges, equipment, shelter, polotics of office, keeping the peace when hired to do negotiation contracts, cleaning up after student accidents, the list went on. Plus he now had a father that was a bit goofy in the head and still managed to run one of the most technologically advanced cities on the planet better than Squall could sign papers and tip fate's hand his way a little.
Which ofcourse bugged the bruenette to no end and caused him to vent his frustrations on his favroite whipping boy. At least he was doing something constructive with his anger and hitting zell rather than, say, helpless civillians who couldnt possibly stand up to a soldier's attack. The day Squall or Zell or any of them really slipped up enough to hit an innocent was th day the Garden would go bankrupt from lawsuits.
But that was okay. Zell was Strong now. Seifer had gone missing after a while, or so the public were lead to belive, and the scattered arguments of his existance became more and more optimistic. Rumors were spread around to change his apperance. Squall even at one point gave an interviewer a bizzare look and asked if she was reffering to the recent pop star, 'Safer Black' as if she'd told some kind of pointless joke.
So the itentity of the seifer night had been wiped off as a mass hallucinagen, influenced by the sorceress to make them all pointlessly hate one of their own kind. Still, not everyone was confvinced, so they kept him under survalence and hiding for two or three more years.
The ironic thing being that he really WAS 'Safer Black'. His hair had been dyed, skin tanned and they'd moved him inland. Giving him a small band to play with and a new identity and he was like another average kid again. If you could excuse the garden funded tharapy sessions and the amount of times he was doped up on tranquilizers to prevent him from going into a programmed killing spree.
He closed his sketcbook half way through the picture, perposly leaving it incomplete. Hea d turning and looking out the window at the setting sun outside and how it affected the sky and surrounding landscape. He decided then and there he'd go visit Ma aain on the weekend. Mayb buy her some flowers and ask her for more stories of his grandfather again. Everywhere in history, people had been fighting hard to keep the lives of the population at large a happy, peaceful one.
And Zell had hd his chance to save people too. He smiled, slipped under his covors, and shortly fell asleep.
---
At the current moment, I don know if I'll write any more or not. I dont really have anywhere to go with it. I suppose I could get around to hookinhg him up with someone, but the story just sortof veered off on its own path.
Who knows, maybe he'll end up with Irvine ;p
Shootinstar: I probably should've mentioned before that Im not completely following the character setup of the game, eh? I like fleshing character possibilities out more.
Gracious Rose: The picture HAS been drawn actually. Its not quite finished actually, but It'll be put up somewhere once its completed, inked and possibly colored.
Hopemia: Good god, are you reading everything I've written? I certantly hope not considering how much is crap. 'Whats wrong with squall?!' got me realizing I threw you all into the middle of a plot without describing WHY he's acting that way though.
Welcome to the chapter that explains some things.
Title: Secret Talent (Part 3)
Author: BlackCypress, TheBeopCow, TheLetterD, Eman Modnar, take your pick.
Warnings: This veers away some from the general conceptions of the characters. If you were looking for a cutsy, perry, attention needy Squall, dont look here. If your looking for a Seifer/Zell pairing, you have got to be out of your mind. And no, I have no idea where this story is going.
Rating: *Shrugs*
Pairngs: None really.
Plot: I had some when I started. cant remember what it was now though. Oops.
---
Sharing memories indeed. Zell had showered and touched himself up a bit once he'd gotten back to his dorm and locked the door. He, Seifer and Squall all had some very keen ememories shared with eachother. Unlike the happy-go-lucky Zell everyone else saw, he did not laugh and play when he'd been cornered in the halls by the gunbladesmen. Not since he'd been adopted by Ma while the other two were only taken in by the Garden.
There was always some bad blood between those kids at the orphanage who got adopted and those who didnt. Sure, we were all glad when the girls got somewhere else safe to live away from us boys, but... Zell getting picked over everyone else to have someone willing to call one of them Son. That was rare. And picking the hyperactive runt kid was even rarer. That was his only clear memory of the Orphanage until Irvine came along and reminded them all of it.
When Irvine showed up, Squall tried to beat Zell again. Zell just kep tsaying quiet about it, taking damages and blows, anything that Squall could take out on him. Squall had the wight of the world on his shoulders put on him and Zell couldnt find it in his heart to condemn him. Even when Seifer was still around.
Ofcourse, the blade whipping had all been Seifer's idea. It wasnt just the lack of following orders that had kept Seifer from being SeeD. Some people were convinced he was perposly failing the tests, holding back in school so he could remain the bully. Others hoowever, like Doctor Kadowaki who'd found out about what they did to him, held the man back so they could keep an eye on him.
Laying back in his bed, Zell looked down at the thin faint and not so fain lines and scars that criss crossed over his torso and belly. They were on his arms and legs too, but less noticable. The few times they'd made a mark large or deep enough that his clothes didnt covor it, he'd just gone skipping off to the doctors office saying he'd been attacked by Grat or fell out of a tree in the Quad or some other silly thing.
There were a lot of reasons Zell was the person he was today. With his fighting, his art, his socialness. He wouldnt have known how to smile even when he was scared or hurt if it hadnt been for Seifer and Squall beating him before every mission. He'd almost died the first few times, before he started to convince himself they were just trying to make him stronger. It was kind of funny to think back on it now after the war. If they'd been nice to him and never did this, he would've snapped like a twig unter the pressure of the war.
Reahing out, he fetched his personal sketch book and a pencil, begining to draw. Nothing specific really, just letting his mind wander.
Everyone knew Zell was good at hand to hand. But no one in the school taught it. Yes, there were basic unarmed combat classes, but Zell's fighting style was all his own. There was no one in Balamb Garden that could copy it or even knew all the components he'd drawn from. That all routed back to theyounger years in the Garden too. Proving being the smallest didnt mean the weakest.
He'd gone out when he could, every chance he got, constantly researching the next big names in street fighting, boxing, stylized martial arts, monster wrestling, even watching little kids playing war with eachother. Plays, history, dances. Hell, he'd been taking classes in Yoga recently. All in the namesake that some day his two fists mght rival those of the two bloodied blades in his nightmares.
His art had developed aroudn that time too. Doodling some of the fighters in action on napkins at bars onr corner cafes until he had enough quick form to draw something memorble on paper. Some fighing classes had concentrated on relaxing and finding his inner peace and tranquility. He had meditated in medows to calm him down and started noticing things. Details in the landscape. Colors, patterns, shades and light. Applied to paper, he was testy at first. His earlier drawing slooking like a mess of shapes and lines.
Now though, he was developed enough to draw things form memory. And his memories seemed to be what several magazines were looking for right now. So when he wasnt fighting for his life or those of others, he found some time to practice and draw.
He found himself sketching Squall. His head hung down, and his body looking weak and broken, clothes tattered and torn, bleeding here and there. Memories of what he'd looked like when one of the sorceresses used Seifer like a puppet and brutally tortured him for information. He remembered that pretty strongly. He'd spoken truth and was still punished for it. His body had collapsed, but when he'd hopened his eyes the next day after slogging through still another mission, Zell had seen such a vibrant determination in his eyes.
Squall may have hated the position he was forced into, but he was far too spirited to just lay down and die because someone told him to. Zell supposed that was the reason so many people looked on to him as a hero more than anyone else. Each and every one of them had their times to question their journey. Squall's journy WAS his questioning, and now he'd found himself in a nook he was handling better than anyone expected.
Being Headmaster of Balamb wasnt exactly an easy task, after all, war or not. Though the Shumi were pleased that NORG had been removed from his seat of power withing Balamb's basement, they did not have any substancial representitives to help out with continual funs. The staff they had was dindling gradually as it was. Squall now had tasks of finding not only jobs for the students, but funding to continue housing and prime living conditions for the the worlds best neutral military aspect.
Food, clothes, challenges, equipment, shelter, polotics of office, keeping the peace when hired to do negotiation contracts, cleaning up after student accidents, the list went on. Plus he now had a father that was a bit goofy in the head and still managed to run one of the most technologically advanced cities on the planet better than Squall could sign papers and tip fate's hand his way a little.
Which ofcourse bugged the bruenette to no end and caused him to vent his frustrations on his favroite whipping boy. At least he was doing something constructive with his anger and hitting zell rather than, say, helpless civillians who couldnt possibly stand up to a soldier's attack. The day Squall or Zell or any of them really slipped up enough to hit an innocent was th day the Garden would go bankrupt from lawsuits.
But that was okay. Zell was Strong now. Seifer had gone missing after a while, or so the public were lead to belive, and the scattered arguments of his existance became more and more optimistic. Rumors were spread around to change his apperance. Squall even at one point gave an interviewer a bizzare look and asked if she was reffering to the recent pop star, 'Safer Black' as if she'd told some kind of pointless joke.
So the itentity of the seifer night had been wiped off as a mass hallucinagen, influenced by the sorceress to make them all pointlessly hate one of their own kind. Still, not everyone was confvinced, so they kept him under survalence and hiding for two or three more years.
The ironic thing being that he really WAS 'Safer Black'. His hair had been dyed, skin tanned and they'd moved him inland. Giving him a small band to play with and a new identity and he was like another average kid again. If you could excuse the garden funded tharapy sessions and the amount of times he was doped up on tranquilizers to prevent him from going into a programmed killing spree.
He closed his sketcbook half way through the picture, perposly leaving it incomplete. Hea d turning and looking out the window at the setting sun outside and how it affected the sky and surrounding landscape. He decided then and there he'd go visit Ma aain on the weekend. Mayb buy her some flowers and ask her for more stories of his grandfather again. Everywhere in history, people had been fighting hard to keep the lives of the population at large a happy, peaceful one.
And Zell had hd his chance to save people too. He smiled, slipped under his covors, and shortly fell asleep.
---
At the current moment, I don know if I'll write any more or not. I dont really have anywhere to go with it. I suppose I could get around to hookinhg him up with someone, but the story just sortof veered off on its own path.
Who knows, maybe he'll end up with Irvine ;p
