DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN FINAL FANTASY VIII, NOR ANY AFFILIATED CHARACTERS, LOGOS, TRADEMARKS, ETC. TINSÎR, AELIN, DEWN, AND OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS NOT FROM FF VIII ARE MINE. ANY SONG USED IN ANY CHAPTER IS NOT OWNED BY ME UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE.
Note: I'm back! Sound the alarm, Tinsîr is back, and our for blood! It feels good to write again!
Chapter 2: A Letter To My Voel
Squall put his son down for a nap, the quiet sucking on his thumb could be heard from the bassinet. Squall smiled, and ran his finger tips through his son's soft black hair. He walked to his desk, and quietly opened the drawer, looking for a pen, and paper. An envelope dropped to the ground, and he picked it up. Staring at the calligraphed inking addressed to him, he turned it over, and opened it. His eyebrows furrowed as he read the letter inside.
He sat there, and the letter dropped from his hand. The quiet breathing, and small noises could be heard from Aelin, and nothing more. Squall turned around, and looked at his little one, and rose. He peeked inside, and walked into the bathroom. He started looking around in the under the sink for some soap, wanting to shower while he could. He groped around blindly, and cringed. He pulled out his hand, and a little bit of blood ran down his gloves. He drew his hand to his mouth, and sucked on it a bit, then looked at it.
Squall peered inside the cabinet, and moved some of the clutter out of the way. He used grabbed a nearby flashlight, and shone it into the dark space. Shining metal caught his eye. He carefully picked it up, and cradled it in his hand. It was one of Tinsir's blades. He removed the rest of the wrist band it had been in, and placed the blade carefully back into its slot. He looked at the rest of them, remembering when he had found her cutting herself once before. Now he wondered if perhaps that was how she eased her pain, and if maybe, just maybe, it would help his.
The stainless steel glinted in the light, and he stared as the blade that had cut him not too long before. However, Aelin started crying, his wails echoing through the room. Squall rose, and held the wailing child in his strong arms, hushing him. Aelin found his thumb, and started sucking on it, beginning to calm down.
Squall walked into his bedroom, and rang up the butler for a bottle. He sat on the couch, ever careful to be fragile with his small one. He looked at Aelin's tiny face, and chest. The small lungs rose, and fell like a calm pool's waves. Aelin looked at his father, bright blue eyes looking into Squall's storming blue. Aelin's tiny hand reached up, and grasped the air around Squall's nose. Then Griever caught his eye, and was soon in the babe's mouth. A drooling smile spread across his face as he looked at his dad, and Squall looked in dismay at his son. Squall tried removing the necklace from Aelin's grasp, and mouth, but Aelin'sgrasp grew tighter, and his gums (and couple of teeth) clenched.
Squall tried a few more times, and gave up. However, sweet deliverance in liquid form came to the lion's rescue. The butler knocked softly, and opened the door at Squall's say. Aelin abandoned the metal, and went for the rubber. Soon his sucking on the bottle was heard, and Squall used his free hand (Aelin was propped on Squall's lap, and Squall's arm was on a pillow) to wipe the drool off of Griever. After his bottle, and burp, Aelin fell asleep in his father's arms. Squall fell asleep once more, but this time more than just a dream met him.
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Quistis sat next to Zell, his hand in hers, neatly on her lap. She smiled at him sweetly, and he gave his goofy grin in reply. They sat on a bench next to a pond, trees along a path nearby in a park. Zell leaned in, and kissed her, his soft lips meeting hers. She backed off, her lips holding his lower as she did. He smiled, and ran his fingers across her cheek. They ran through the side of her hair, and he kissed her again. Her tongue massaged his, and he hers.
It was dark, and no one was around. The moonlight reflected on the water, and fireflies danced through the air. He leaned closer in, and she leaned back. His body weight on her now, her legs wrapped around his muscular waist. She removed her glasses quickly, and they returned to kissing. A small laughter was heard in the background, and they looked over at it.
Selphie: laughs Um, Irvy, maybe we should leave.
Irvine: I dunno, maybe we should kick 'em out, and use this place for us.
Selphie: Irvy! Maybe after they leave...
Zell: Um, guys, can we have a little privacy?
Quistis: Um, it is her hologram.
Selphie: Um, I haven't programmed a bedroom yet. I was doing good just to get the trees up, and running.
Irvine: Okay, the mood is ruined, so everybody up.
Quistis rises, and Irvine pushes a button on the remote. Everything went away, leaving a blue room filled with four people. Zell had not gotten up in time, and fell to the ground when the bench vaporized.
Irvine: Oops, sorry, man.
Zell: Yeah, right.
Quistis: Um, let's go Zell.
Zell: Ooooh, okay. See ya guys. they leave
Selphie: Irvine Kinneas!
Irvine grabs her by the waist, both hands: Selphie Tilmitt.
Selphie: holds onto him, and put her head on his chest I love you, Irvy.
Irvine: holds her closer Love you too, Selph.
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Squall, beloved,
I know that certain decisions that I have made must be trying for you. But know that I love you desperately, and would never hurt you with intent to do so. There are obligations that I must to attend, and in the long run will be necessary for the life that I want, that we want. Sacrifices must be made, and blood shed before there can be any peace. I love you, and miss you like the rain missed the ocean. It must go through changes before it may return where it belongs. It hunts for its place, and will do want is needed to be back in the arms of its beloved. . . No matter what I do, your memory plagues me. I cannot sleep without knowing that you, my beloved, are safe and sound. I know that my temporary departure from you will be hell for us both. I swear I will return to you, or die trying. Just give me time...Tell our children I love them, even in death. Squall, death is only the beginning. . .
Tinsîr Leonhart