Disclaimer: Nothing owned by Square is owned by me. We're not Communists here. Everything not owned (in this piece, anyway) by Square is mine.
The PA system came to life with a crackle, startling Timshel from his sleep. The crackle was soon followed by an ounce of feedback, which caused the young SeeD hopeful to sit upright in bed. He mumbled and rolled out of his bunk, landing on the floor in an undignified heap. Timshel rubbed his head, and decided that standing up wasn't worth the effort. Thus, he fell back to sleep on the floor. Before full unconsciousness settled in, the PA blared a trumpet reveille (a sick tradition carried over from Headmaster Cid's administration) that made the young student jump in alarm from the heap of blankets he had found refuge in. His bunkmate woke serenely, took a look at his fellow cadet, and opened the morning with a rumbling laugh.
"Dude, look at your forehead!" the bunkmate exclaimed. Timshel's face blushed instantly. His first order of morning business saw him in front of a mirror, poking at what may have been the largest bruise of his young life. All the while, Lirian, his bunkmate, could barely stand up from his laughter. Timshel ignored his friend's wisecracks and continued to poke and examine the bruise, wincing in pain occasionally. Glancing into the mirror, Timshel saw Lirian rise from his bunk, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
"How long are you gonna poke at that thing? It's just gonna get worse," Lirian suggested, donning his informal morningwear. Timshel rolled his eyes and continued with his obsession.
"Maybe you could ask one of the girls for some cover-up!" Lirian said, laughing and ducking for cover behind a dresser. Timshel broke his gaze in the mirror and dove over the dresser, chasing his heckler with a sort of playful rage in his eyes. In his mind, however, he was running over how he was going to ask one of his female associates for some sort of make-up. It was either that, or he'd have hold his hand over the bruise all day. Wearing cosmetics was certainly less humiliating than the alternative. All the while, Lirian, always quick on his feet, leaped back over the dresser and evaded his assailant. Timshel took a quick play-swing and missed, and Lirian calmed down. The two ended up on good terms again as they raced out of their dorm room to head to the cafeteria.
If there's one thing to be said about the Balamb Garden cafeteria, it's that the place is a freak of nature. The skeleton crew of three middle-aged women working the abnormally small kitchen can produce enough food to feed 500 people three times a day. And it could be safely said that 1/3 of the people in the Garden are cadets between the ages of 13 and 19; or In other words, 33% of the residents can eat at least twice their body weight at any given time. The numbers are mind-boggling*.
Lirian, per usual, was the first out of the dormitory, followed by Timshel. The automatic door closed behind them for a split second, then a wave of ravenously hungry adolescents and young adults burst thorugh the door and broke into a dead sprint towards the eatery. Garden faculty along the pathway of the quad, donned in their usual modest garb, dove out of the way to keep from being trampled.
In the cafeteria, the three cooks' ears perked up. It was showtime. One of the three tightened her grip on the fryer. Another cracked her knuckles. Lirian cartwheeled through the door, followed by the ravenous mob. Plates and silverware clanked and chairs slid about as all the residents of the Garden were quickly served by the demi-godlike cafeteria staff. Random conversation drifted about and entered Timshel's ears as he divided attention between his plate and the people around him. His eyes shifted around the cafeteria, passing by the table where Instructor Quistis Trepe sat, surrounded by chatty young women and drooling adolescent boys. A hoot of excitement rang across the room and drew the young cadet's attention. Rielle, the resident Triple Triad master, had just trounced another opponent. A memory of his precious card collection lost to the skilled girl ran through Timshel's mind, and he smirked. He'll learn not to mess with her, he thought to himself. His divided attention soon switched to the plate of eggs in front of him.
Breakfast ended as usual for the denizens of the Garden; the great mob receded from the cafeteria, the rage of hunger out of their eyes, and headed back to their rooms to dress for class. Poking his bruise, in now what was almost a nervous reaction, Timshel flipped open his notebook and saw a note he made last week. Today was combat demo day. He grinned and with a new hope for an exciting day, he ran off to his room.
* Yet, one may ask, where does all this food come from? Garden specialists, in conjunction with the skilled Shumi tribesmen onboard the Garden, devised a solution to the food problem after the closest market, Balamb, was evacuated, and other towns were destroyed by monster hordes. 24 hours of sunlight a day allows for double growth in plants. By creating a new part of the Garden specifically designed to absorb as much sunlight as possible and planting food in a nutrient-rich synthetic solution, the plant harvest occurs almost every week, providing the bulk of Garden's food supply.
-- Expect frequent updates for about a week... I'm not doing anything important... as usual, please send any reviews and constructive criticism... I think you'll like the next chapter... --
The PA system came to life with a crackle, startling Timshel from his sleep. The crackle was soon followed by an ounce of feedback, which caused the young SeeD hopeful to sit upright in bed. He mumbled and rolled out of his bunk, landing on the floor in an undignified heap. Timshel rubbed his head, and decided that standing up wasn't worth the effort. Thus, he fell back to sleep on the floor. Before full unconsciousness settled in, the PA blared a trumpet reveille (a sick tradition carried over from Headmaster Cid's administration) that made the young student jump in alarm from the heap of blankets he had found refuge in. His bunkmate woke serenely, took a look at his fellow cadet, and opened the morning with a rumbling laugh.
"Dude, look at your forehead!" the bunkmate exclaimed. Timshel's face blushed instantly. His first order of morning business saw him in front of a mirror, poking at what may have been the largest bruise of his young life. All the while, Lirian, his bunkmate, could barely stand up from his laughter. Timshel ignored his friend's wisecracks and continued to poke and examine the bruise, wincing in pain occasionally. Glancing into the mirror, Timshel saw Lirian rise from his bunk, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
"How long are you gonna poke at that thing? It's just gonna get worse," Lirian suggested, donning his informal morningwear. Timshel rolled his eyes and continued with his obsession.
"Maybe you could ask one of the girls for some cover-up!" Lirian said, laughing and ducking for cover behind a dresser. Timshel broke his gaze in the mirror and dove over the dresser, chasing his heckler with a sort of playful rage in his eyes. In his mind, however, he was running over how he was going to ask one of his female associates for some sort of make-up. It was either that, or he'd have hold his hand over the bruise all day. Wearing cosmetics was certainly less humiliating than the alternative. All the while, Lirian, always quick on his feet, leaped back over the dresser and evaded his assailant. Timshel took a quick play-swing and missed, and Lirian calmed down. The two ended up on good terms again as they raced out of their dorm room to head to the cafeteria.
If there's one thing to be said about the Balamb Garden cafeteria, it's that the place is a freak of nature. The skeleton crew of three middle-aged women working the abnormally small kitchen can produce enough food to feed 500 people three times a day. And it could be safely said that 1/3 of the people in the Garden are cadets between the ages of 13 and 19; or In other words, 33% of the residents can eat at least twice their body weight at any given time. The numbers are mind-boggling*.
Lirian, per usual, was the first out of the dormitory, followed by Timshel. The automatic door closed behind them for a split second, then a wave of ravenously hungry adolescents and young adults burst thorugh the door and broke into a dead sprint towards the eatery. Garden faculty along the pathway of the quad, donned in their usual modest garb, dove out of the way to keep from being trampled.
In the cafeteria, the three cooks' ears perked up. It was showtime. One of the three tightened her grip on the fryer. Another cracked her knuckles. Lirian cartwheeled through the door, followed by the ravenous mob. Plates and silverware clanked and chairs slid about as all the residents of the Garden were quickly served by the demi-godlike cafeteria staff. Random conversation drifted about and entered Timshel's ears as he divided attention between his plate and the people around him. His eyes shifted around the cafeteria, passing by the table where Instructor Quistis Trepe sat, surrounded by chatty young women and drooling adolescent boys. A hoot of excitement rang across the room and drew the young cadet's attention. Rielle, the resident Triple Triad master, had just trounced another opponent. A memory of his precious card collection lost to the skilled girl ran through Timshel's mind, and he smirked. He'll learn not to mess with her, he thought to himself. His divided attention soon switched to the plate of eggs in front of him.
Breakfast ended as usual for the denizens of the Garden; the great mob receded from the cafeteria, the rage of hunger out of their eyes, and headed back to their rooms to dress for class. Poking his bruise, in now what was almost a nervous reaction, Timshel flipped open his notebook and saw a note he made last week. Today was combat demo day. He grinned and with a new hope for an exciting day, he ran off to his room.
* Yet, one may ask, where does all this food come from? Garden specialists, in conjunction with the skilled Shumi tribesmen onboard the Garden, devised a solution to the food problem after the closest market, Balamb, was evacuated, and other towns were destroyed by monster hordes. 24 hours of sunlight a day allows for double growth in plants. By creating a new part of the Garden specifically designed to absorb as much sunlight as possible and planting food in a nutrient-rich synthetic solution, the plant harvest occurs almost every week, providing the bulk of Garden's food supply.
-- Expect frequent updates for about a week... I'm not doing anything important... as usual, please send any reviews and constructive criticism... I think you'll like the next chapter... --