Greeteroonies, dear readers! I'm sorry that it's taken longer than usual to update this story, I've been set back a fair bit by an onslaught of uni work and things will probably continue to be rather slow on the fanfic front until I get through the first wave of my exams… :/ for now, here's the next instalment which will set the scene for the next heavy action of the story, and I apologise in advance for the gloominess – for now, the story's rating has temporarily changed to include 'angst'… =P
I have also taken note of how most of you would like to see a Squall and Selphie romantic pairing, and your wishes are not falling upon deaf ears… ;) I've thus decided to incorporate romance into the storyline as soon as the time is right, and anyway, romance would be an interesting ingredient, plus a new challenge for me to tackle – And so the people have spoken! ^.^;; I'll let you all know when the rating changes again, but for now, please try to put up with this last bit of angsty stuff…. ^.~
CHAPTER 7 – If these walls could talk:
The distant, resonating chimes of the antique clock shattered the stillness of the nocturnal ambience, the tolling of the midnight hour being rapidly absorbed by the elegant wood panelling lining the walls like a second, glossy skin. The dull clangs emitted from the collision of the cluster of gilded pendulums within the ticking machine seeped through the solidness of the elaborately carved double doors centred in the empty hallway…
Squall lay motionless on his back swathed in a bundle of tangled blankets, staring blankly and unblinkingly at a pattern of cracks mining their faint tendrils through the white plaster coating the ceiling. The pealing of the hour echoed softly throughout the dimly lit suite, subtly throbbing away like a dying pulse as the bells finally stilled, dampening their voices and melodic strains as they gave way once more to the unimpeachable authority of silence.
Frosted shafts of moonlight speared through the chinks between the half-drawn, velvet curtains and the varnished windowsill, the light puddling over various promontories created by Squall's three-dimensional form and the shadowed creases marring the crumpled sheets. His dry, staring eyes had taken on an ethereal sheen as the silver orbs were bathed in a spreading pool of late night radiance penetrating the poorly drawn curtains, accentuated by the glow of pallid skin and the bronzed, straggling tendrils of a messy mane falling across a dark pair of shallow cheekbones. Heart shaped lips parted ever so slightly to reveal the glint of two upper teeth, the rigid aura emanating from the Commander's deceptively restful features spoke of a lion that was resolutely keeping the unwanted shroud of sleep at a respectful distance…
Can't sleep… won't. Don't serve to.
In direct dissimilarity to his body's taut immobility, Squall's thoughts had transformed into a linkage of run away train carriages of complete pandemonium, over which his irritatingly opinionated mind voice insisted on narrating. The emotional whirlwind beating at Squall's insides was doing nothing in the way of ebbing, and instead of trying to snuff it out, he opted instead to ride its wild, bucking heart in an almost sadomasochistic fashion.
What's the point in being a leader…
Feather-soft exhalation, warming an icy upper lip.
… if you can't protect the ones you love…
A blink… and the brush of silken lashes upon the graceful pergola of a rounded cheek…
What's the point of being a SeeD…?
He subconsciously mouthed the biting words of his clouded mood to an unreceptive ceiling, lips moving so slowly and indistinctively to be only barely audible.
I… don't know anymore.
Squall could feel the muscles of his back complaining from persistent stiffness… he knew that he had been laying in the same position for at least a good two hours, but somehow, he just couldn't muster enough energy to be bothered about it. Numbness had set in with the deadly swiftness of a blast of dry ice; he could register no sensation of buzzing nerves flitting nervously beneath the stretch of skin coating both of his legs… the hot, underground spring of surging blood grown meek and stagnant with the onset of the freeze.
I've been protected before. Nurtured. Ellone at the orphanage… Quistis when I came to Garden. I want to do the same. I think… that's why I became a SeeD… SeeDs protect. But lately…
A soft, slow sigh trickling through delicately curled nostrils… gentle moist breath belying the spreading inner frost…
… what's the point of it all, nowadays? I'm… a stupid, worthless Commander. I send out SeeDs to do the job I always wanted to do… and sit on my fattening ass at a block of wood all day. This wasn't how I wanted it to be. I'm… I'm not cut out to lead. Why couldn't Cid see that? Why wasn't I given any say? This whole thing reeks.
Squall closed his dampening eyes momentarily, concentrating on shoving the rising shriek of bottled-up frustration back down his throat. He swallowed hard, resuming the ongoing war within his chest against his hidden emotional inhibitions…
And then… there was her.
Eyes flipping skywards like opened shutters… bucking heart… the eruption of the raging furnace that was a stomach…
Rinoa. You ruined me.
Bitter bile. Gulp it back down.
The way you laughed… when you brought the whole card tower tumbling down…
"Shit," Squall suddenly growled out loud, violently yanking his unmoving, rigid body upright with impulsive vigour. Ripping his limbs away from the twisted sheets and flinging the offending material across the rumpled bed, he swept his deadened legs over the side of the mattress, only just detecting the pressure travelling up his comatose calves which informed his seething, swirling brain that his feet had made contact with the carpet. The stuffy air rotating around the space of the private suite was lukewarm but chilly, and mounds of gooseflesh instinctively swelled upon the bare skin of Squall's upper arms like rupturing toadstools at the loss of their warm cocoon of blankets.
I thought I was over this… through this, already! Why is it still eating away at me?!
Squall ran loose fingers through his bed-tousled mop of hair, snagging a few painful tangles and snarls which he endured without protest. A light outbreak of sweat stained his frowning brow while his heart, provoked to anger like a rabid hound, refused to settle back into complacency. Unkempt and feverish in appearance, this was certainly not the consistently controlled and stoic Commander that most in the Garden were so accustomed in viewing…
Get over it, you idiot. She didn't need a Knight. Didn't need protecting. No need for champions. She wanted to go on alone.
His inner voice sounded so empty, silent words falling upon a mind that was not blind to the half-truths within those same words.
She didn't need you. That's the bottom line… strung you along like a lovesick pup… and after you offered everything.
On a timely cue, an advent of pins and needles scored an itchy trail down Squall's reviving legs, and he rose off the bed to shed some relief on the uncomfortable sensation. Blocked up blood gushing in full force back down previously sluggish currents, Squall helped his circulation along with some aimless pacing, scuffing his bare toes through the fine fibres of the soft, rich carpet. At the apex of his upright form, a dusky darkness was marring his aesthetic features, clinging to his flushed skin like the sodden fingers of a swampy mist.
You're a frickin' loser. And she's a frickin' bitch. Great combo – why didn't it last?
Squall replied to this thought with a dark guffaw, the harsh sound piercing the hushed atmosphere like an iron lance.
What does it matter? You just weren't good enough for her. That's the way it stands. Just what are you good for, then? Can't be depended upon… to even keep in contact with your family. Two weeks since you called Esthar? That's just pitiful. If they all upped and died the day after you called, their bones would've been picked clean by now… bodies torn apart by your neglect… and even if they somehow survived… you'd just as easily take a Gunblade to their heads, if that little show today was anything to go by. Good to see you're reliable for something.
He was being vicious, but he didn't mind – he found himself maliciously enjoying the throbbing bite of the self-inflicted wounds. The thoughts themselves were savage and utterly horrifying to the touch but they could very well be reality. Squall felt the distinction between the over world and his internal railings effectively blur as he wallowed messily in a stinking bog of his own self-loathing, an unnerving smile plastered across his cherubic, stormy face as he spread himself open to the ceaseless barrage of self-inflicted barbs… the punishing crucifixion of his detestation… stringing himself upon the arms of the gallows tree of his vilest self-abhorrence…
Drink it all up… right to the dregs…!
As if overtaken by the foggy effects of a drunken stupor or the giddiness of an impulsive decision, Squall staggered blindly to the lean black case standing sentry-like in the corner of the suite, his arms outstretched as imploringly as those of a desperate lover… the rancid broth of his internal hostility gnawed at his stomach lining, culminating in a swelling pop of heat as his fingers clawed over the blunted corners of an ebony prism, groping further down until his fingertips traced along the cold sheen of a metal clasp.
Fall back… it's the only thing you can do…
A loud snap punctuated the stillness of the room as a steel latch sprung back against the hollow sound of toughened leather… an ensuing 'click' as an internal mechanism was granted release and the subtle creak of otherwise well-oiled hinges…
… the only thing you can do well…
Cold metal, sinking tiny teeth into the quivering flesh of a sweaty palm. Dozing, hateful beast… demure and placid under a familiar, commanding touch… respected master… lifted tenderly from the confines of a velvet mantle, long lean length of lethal keenness gleaming with a wicked, upturned grin that mirrored its wielder in every way…
Death dealer. If no one wants you to protect… then I guess you'll just have to destroy. Or Kill. Whichever comes first. It's all the same to me.
There was a muffled fumbling as articles of clothing were pulled on roughly in the dark, followed by the whisper of a click as a door slid open and shut in one motion. Feathered footsteps breezing down the yawning maw of a dozing hall…
Whatever. Let's just kill.
----------------------------------------
Dismal streaks of grey drifted overhead, wisps of clouds blown apart by the tumultuous winds that billowed in the blotchy basin of winter sky... flecks of bitter snow, so cold that they possessed a burning touch, spiralling from the frowning grey canopy overhead and coating the stony path in a peaceful white frost.
Heels ringing on rock.
Where are you? Are you there?!
Twisting, turning… lost in a maze of silence.... silence.... the silence. Tattered rags, like shredded banners, limping in the breeze. Smashed and wounded walls... the bodies.
The bodies??
They lie where they fell; where they died their pitiful deaths.... the dead don't need pity. The dead don't need tears.
But I cry for them anyway....
Heels ringing on rock.
Faces of friends, of bygone days, of times when death was not a valid option in the scheme of things.... Brimming eyes click skyward, wounded Garden, raw and crude.
My Garden... what have they done…? What have I done?
……
What haven't I done…?
Stinging snow, the world turns black.... black snow, charred and hard.
… Where are you?!
Silence howls, the sky flickers, dims and dies...
I can't find you.... any of you....
……
:They're gone. Nothing's left. They've left you all alone. They were all so selfish, to die and leave you alone…:
!!!
Who are you? Why… am I seeing this again?
:It does not matter who I am. What matters is who you are. You are a very talented individual.:
I… don't understand… a-are you using me? Why are you bugging me?
:No. I only want to help you. An awesome power is about to be yours, a power to be exercised only at your discretion. You will not know how to control it... Untempered, such power would be lethal to yourself and to your loved ones. You do not want to harm your loved ones… I can help you control what will be yours, so that you will be of no danger… nobody will die if you would only let me he…:
:… Selphie!! Wake up! Get away from here!:
Wha..?!
:…yOu BiTcH! WHaT aRe YoU…:
:Run! Leave this dream!!:
:HOw… DaRe YoU…!! I'Ll FiX yOu…!:
Plunging, spinning, turning over and around again… plummeting downwards towards an upper pinprick of luminance… sour blasts of wind scoring heated paths across sleep-tender skin…
Heels ringing on rock...
---------------------------
Selphie woke with a jolt, desperately ripping her way out the ghastly bonds of
the nightmare, still feeling the scalding sting of the charred snow and rancid
wind on her upper arms and cheeks. The silence...! No… she was awake.
The silence was instead throbbing heavily throughout the room instead of her
world of unrestful slumber, emanating from behind the closed dorm door from the
dormant Garden halls.
Selphie clambered out of bed,
smoothing down her ruffled hair, waiting for her raging heart to cease its
almost painful hammering against her ribcage. The storm seemed to have played
its ferocious heart out at last, and a steady rain was gently pattering against
the closed window, producing a muffled rhythm through the glass like tapping
fingers enclosed in the skin of a glove. The sound was surprisingly soothing,
aiding Selphie's inner recovery and providing a slow, steady beat by which her
decelerating heart could try to match… still cradling her bowed head in a shaky
grip of wobbling fingers, Selphie methodically attempted to piece her fractured
thoughts back into a coherent whole.
Time compression... Selphie
shuddered, feeling slightly calmer as she fiercely concentrated on nothing else
but the healing tempo of the thumping rain. I… can't deny it. I've never
gotten over it.... they thought I had, but they... it's my own fault.... I
thought I didn't care.... Misery clouded Selphie's features, an emotion
that had never been witnessed by anyone other than the dormitory walls. She was
vaguely aware of the aching pressure of her shoulders, pressed tightly behind
her ears as she subconsciously curled her body into a protective, invisible
shell.
They never knew how I… got lost… and wound up back at Trabia… just before the missiles hit…
Shaking the now unbearable tension out of her neck and shoulders, Selphie began to mooch thoughtfully, dragging her bare toes through the thick, woolly rug on the floor beside her bed. I dreamt it all so clearly. I really felt like I was there all over again… a silent witness. I knew what would happen, but I couldn't stop it. All I could do was watch… watch but couldn't warn… I felt so helpless, so frustrated… and then it all got interrupted…?
Selphie paused in mid-stride, casting her mind reel back to the… dream speaker. The… whispered promises… and the underlying aroma of a subtly veiled threat…
This is really weirding me out. Everything that's happened today… it's all… a bit much, isn't it? Calm down, girl… no use whining… think back… what did they say again…? They mentioned… a 'power'? A power that would be mine? Ha ha… It sounds like something out a lame movie… I mean, why would something like that happen to me? Why now, of all times? But… even if this is some sort of stupid gag or silly overreaction… what's happened so far today and tonight is a bit too disturbing to just pass off lightly at the moment. I guess we'll have to assume the worst until proven otherwise… which means that something or someone out there is obviously interested in whatever 'power' happens to be making headlines… which… throws me into the firing line…
Clenching her fists into near seamless balls, Selphie felt a heated stab of high irritation and indignation lance through her abdomen. I'm being used – I know I am! But I don't know why, what for and by whom! Am I being watched right now? Is someone listening to my thoughts as I think them? And what type of sicko would pluck out my memories and turn them against me?
Selphie squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her quickening breath, suddenly fearful that her suspicions might not be as unfounded as she first conceived… there was no telling who – or what – was currently eavesdropping on her internal raging… and the very thought was beginning to terrify her.
Why?
…
Why… me?
Selphie held her breath as she pronounced the question with a silent voice, almost anticipating a reply from the elusive force, or forces, that were haunting her… a heartbeat passed, followed by several more in which Selphie managed to cobble together most of her fraying composure, but no familiar ticklish touch brushed against the channels of her magic sensors. She permitted herself to relax slightly, but still remained alert.
It's… strange. I could almost have sworn I heard… two voices in that dream…
Selphie scrunched her lips together, her eyes rolled back in reflection.
I don't know. It was hard to tell… there were so many sounds, all jumbled together…
With sober ruminations, she could hear the fleeting screams and rattling moans so piercingly clear… the racked weeping, and tinkle of loose rubble upon split and sobbing earth… a horrifying chorus of a suffering portion of humanity, a hymn of aftershock and silent devastation… replaying over and over like a jammed record at the back of her head and frustratingly out of reach…
Weakness bit gleefully into Selphie's joints as the memories flooded back to plague her once more, tearing apart half-healed scars and refusing to loosen their iron grip on her conscience in both worlds of dreams and actuality. She wrapped her arms firmly around her middle, as though suddenly gripped with the fear of her trembling insides exploding into the open air in a chaotic storm of blood and meat, wishing desperately for solace, relief, escape… anywhere but here… anywhere away from the past… I'm so tired of all of this, so tired of pretending that nothing's wrong so that no one will have to care…
I won't worry anyone.... Selphie continued to think fiercely, exerting everything in her arsenal to enforce her thoughts convincingly enough to fool even herself… we're SeeDs. I'm a SeeD. We're not supposed to be afraid of anything... we're supposed to be able to look after ourselves. I can look after myself. I will. I am happy. There is absolutely nothing wrong. I am not afraid of anything!
Selphie's abjected look suddenly hardened.
Absolutely nothing at all.
With
a new, purposeful edge to her previous watery stride, she marched stiffly
across the room on a trajectory aimed directly at a leather case propped
against the dresser. Crouching behind the dresser, her features completely
drenched by the puddle of shadows cast by the bulky wooden furniture, Selphie
probed the darkness with searching hands, eventually releasing a concealed
catch and swinging a creaking, protesting lid skywards. She dipped her hands
deep inside the complying jaws of the case, her skin scraping against the silky
softness of the rich inner lining, outstretched fingers suddenly crumbling upon
impact with what felt like a glossy tube of sleek, glacial glass. Further
enquiry with investigating fingers located the scratchy texture of leather
straps, their clasps snapping easily apart as careful hands slid underneath and
drew forth two burnished bars of polished blue-green from their enclosure,
smeared with layers of dormant savagery and quiet menace. She stroked the icy
weapon comfortingly, knowing that the heat of her hands would gradually warm
the interior of the weapon with her essence, spreading throughout the length of
it, ignited with blazing battle fire swelling deep within the core...
The soft click barely echoed through
the empty dorm corridor, and the lightly stepping figure that slipped out into
the echoing hallway was clothed in shadows, dark as hell-spawn and radiating an
air of hushed, deliberating threat. A spark of moonlight cut through the
rain-washed glass of an overhead sky dome, bouncing off the sleek surfaces of
two lean shafts of sculpted Adamantine held in the figure's grasp.
A SeeD doesn't fear anything...
and I don't fear anything, because I'm a SeeD. I don't fear time. I don't fear
dreams. I don't fear memories. I don't fear monsters...
The figure advanced down the silent
pathway away from the dozing dorms, clothed in shadows.
I don't fear time. I don't fear
monsters.
The figure breezed past an illuminated lime green sign, the
luminescent glow picking out the formulation of two simple words. 'Training
centre'.
I can kill time... by killing
monsters...
The figure marched down the corridor,
clothed in shadows.
* * *
Well, I decided that it would be inevitable to exclude Rinoa from this story as much as I would've liked to, although I have some interesting plans in mind for Rinoa later which will satisfy my anti-Heartilly tendencies… XD *evil laughter* (I hope that it's vaguely clear (oxymoron?) that Rinoa is not at Balamb Garden, which shall be explained in due time.) I also apologise if I made Squall come across as dangerously mental, and if I did… well, there's a good reason for it, trust me! =P More of my investigation into what lies behind Selphie's smile… and three guesses for where Selphie and Squall are going to bump into each other…? ;) And about time too, seven chapters have already passed and I'm only just getting a move on… @__o;;; The next update will probably be pretty late in coming, so please be patient, I'll definitely try and make the next chapter worthwhile! ;)
Coming up next: Under what type of circumstances will Selphie and Squall cross paths at a time when even the biggest party-goer is resting in bed? Will they be able to pool their resources together and discover the common ground between their recent supernatural experiences? (Well duh, otherwise there'd be no story… XD) Ahem. ^.^;;; Errr… anyway, I'll see you there! Bye for now! *waves*