[fic] Carbon Made - Chapter 6
Apr. 2nd, 2008 03:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crankyoldmanFandom: FF8
Characters/Pairings: Squall/Rinoa, Laguna
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Squall wasn't the only one that needed a reminder to stop wandering in the desert. A Knight is a compass.
Notes: Yes, I have fun playing with the fact Rinoa's basically a walking deus ex machina. And I know, some things are unanswered, but I did it that way on purpose. I think this might be a prequel to my Empire set of stories that I still need to write more of. And it wasn't intentional. Anyway, just a short (maybe longer, who knows) chapter after this and I'm done! Rejoice! Much thanks to the song "Winter" by Tori Amos. It and the song that got me going on last chapter are responsible for the cold imagery that oddly works. Enough babble.
'One new message.'
It blinked at her, and she groggily looked up at it. Rinoa hadn't expected to fall asleep at the terminal like that, but then, she didn't know how long it had taken her to write a message. Someone must have been waiting for word from her for a while, considering that it was a quick response. When she focused even more, setting aside the feelings and looked straight at the screen, the sender was right next to it in big block letters.
'SLEONHART'
It was true she had doubts about them--he was him and she was herself, even if herself was nebulous at best. But he had a lot to say, for his part, usually in short phrases and looks and the kinds of things that she'd learned only she could read. His color was grey most of the time, but that was alright. Maybe taking off to face the thing she wasn't ready to face was also a little bit of a test of him. Most girls she knew tested their boyfriends. But she was in the unique position of testing a Knight, which wasn't nearly as silly and stupid. He'd been through Hell once before, but she'd been asleep most of the time, unable to know exactly what. Some of her loneliness here, even more pronounced than it had ever been, it must have been his too.
'I'm always here, when you want to say something. Even if you don't.
- Squall'
It was so like him, to summarize something complicated and crazy into a single sentence or two and put more meaning into it than she could. Rinoa could smell leather, staring at that, warm black leather with just a hint of sweat. He only ever took off that jacket on the beach, when they all went to that place to pretend like they had normal childhoods. She'd gone alone here because she wanted to know if she was strong enough but that wasn't the point. All the Sorceresses that had gone crazy in the past has been without a Knight for one reason or another. When Edea was herself...
Rinoa's feather was black, and it wasn't a desert, but a barren wasteland of snow she had been wandering in.
---
"Why are you still wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Laguna's voice was a little jarring, but then, she'd only given him a day off, really. He must have thought she was sleeping in, as he'd gotten no word that she'd left the grounds.
If you go, I'll meet you there.
"Where is it?" Rinoa asked with Squall's sort of even tone, or maybe even Quistis's, the kind that could tell someone to go and risk their life. It surprised her and excited her all at once.
"Where's what?" Laguna replied, charmingly befuddled. She rose from her seat, simple black dress rustling down to her ankles.
"I want to see where they put people like me." I'm going to make it so they can't make me sit still again, Squall. I know you can hear me. I know you can.
"Why would you want to go there?"
Rinoa reached for the book, she knew it would be there, maybe it hadn't been there a moment before but it was there now and that's all that mattered. Now she was going to clasp her hands behind her back and give her best smile to Laguna and erase any worry from his features. Now Squall was going to pause outside the training center on his way to somewhere else, deciding to go in.
"Just a quick peek, I guess."
Judging by his sense of directions, it would take most of the day to get there.
---
We are the authors of history. It is written and carried out by our hands.
Without all the tubes and the power connecting to it, it was just metal. No hiss of cryogenics, no ice, no steam. Metal and glass like a coffin out of a story that her father used to tell her. Only she was the witch now and she'd left the hero at home. Sure, Laguna was there, edging on her peripheral, but she only needed to close the door and she could be alone.
No, Rinoa was never alone. On the one side, it was quiet afternoons and games of distract-the-commander, and on the other, it was the whispers of the spurned, those that would not be alone and so they came into her head saying burnthewitch...
"I'm not what's going to burn," she said aloud.
"Rinoa? Hey, I've got a bad--" With a smile she closed the door. Hopefully Laguna would forgive her later, but this was between her and--and the boy-man in the training center, just warming up.
The blonde woman stood in the corner, wearing white.
As Rinoa stepped up to it, this prison marked as a memorial, she realized just how small it was. The first time she'd been there it had seemed so vast, so sprawling, a frozen ocean of wires and glass. She wasn't sure if it was time or if it was just that now she could see things as well as she'd always felt them, but it was almost pathetic. To think that she'd had nightmares of this place, to think that she'd woken up and gripped his hand and told him, no, I couldn't be like that, not forever, closed in like that, unable to move.
He was waiting, but he wasn't standing still. Squall raised his right hand with his gunblade; she raised her right hand with the weapon of an invisible legacy.
"I'm doing this for us not for you," she spoke to the blonde woman in the corner. When Rinoa could see, things were so clear they almost hurt--it didn't matter who the woman was, really. It wasn't her she'd been chasing anyway. It only mattered that the woman was always there, and always had been. Maybe it was Rinoa's own way of making sense of all the signals.
"Then do it already," she said with her mother's voice.
The trigger on a gunblade worked so much different from the trigger that she called, something that she'd always used like a question, but was supposed to be a command. The flame was blue, a brilliant sapphire variety, the kind of thing that was so beautiful it had to be dangerous. When it came into contact with the metal, it softened and lost its shape, and the glass quietly turned into a multicolored pool where the coffin had been.
She watched it burn, and it was--no, there was something else. Rinoa would get the chain fixed later, it wasn't like she didn't know people that fixed things. She slipped the ring with the lion on her finger, the other she blew like a dandelion seed in with the rest of the things that she'd been afraid of.
It was only a start, because she found herself on her knees, gasping. Too much?
Laguna with a crowbar stood in the doorway, gaping at the column of fire that faded into embers after only a breath more. Rinoa waved to him tiredly. Squall would probably be in the training center for hours--it would take her a while to reach his kind of skill.
"Are you... what was... Rinoa, I'm confused."
"I'm sorry, I should have asked if you were planning on salvaging that with the rest of Odine's things."
He didn't really think she hadn't noticed how a lot of those files they'd been going through were labeled? And that was the first time that he didn't look at her with kind benevolence. It was just a flicker, really, anyone else would have missed it. But Laguna brushed it aside as he lent a hand to help her stand.
"I sure hope no one noticed that..."
"It's ok, Laguna. They'll find out eventually."
She wasn't quite sure if she believed the confidence in saying that, but it didn't matter really. Rinoa had been called headstrong once, for not worrying about the after once it had happened. They could be a little right. That instance of a strong hand at her shoulder and the faint smell of leather assured her that someone thought about the consequences at least.
A Knight is a conduit, a direction. A Knight is a compass.
She looped her arm in Laguna's. "Can you tell me more about Esthar?" she asked, leading them out, far away from the twisted metal and glass that looked almost like a wing if someone were viewing it from on high.
Characters/Pairings: Squall/Rinoa, Laguna
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Squall wasn't the only one that needed a reminder to stop wandering in the desert. A Knight is a compass.
Notes: Yes, I have fun playing with the fact Rinoa's basically a walking deus ex machina. And I know, some things are unanswered, but I did it that way on purpose. I think this might be a prequel to my Empire set of stories that I still need to write more of. And it wasn't intentional. Anyway, just a short (maybe longer, who knows) chapter after this and I'm done! Rejoice! Much thanks to the song "Winter" by Tori Amos. It and the song that got me going on last chapter are responsible for the cold imagery that oddly works. Enough babble.
'One new message.'
It blinked at her, and she groggily looked up at it. Rinoa hadn't expected to fall asleep at the terminal like that, but then, she didn't know how long it had taken her to write a message. Someone must have been waiting for word from her for a while, considering that it was a quick response. When she focused even more, setting aside the feelings and looked straight at the screen, the sender was right next to it in big block letters.
'SLEONHART'
It was true she had doubts about them--he was him and she was herself, even if herself was nebulous at best. But he had a lot to say, for his part, usually in short phrases and looks and the kinds of things that she'd learned only she could read. His color was grey most of the time, but that was alright. Maybe taking off to face the thing she wasn't ready to face was also a little bit of a test of him. Most girls she knew tested their boyfriends. But she was in the unique position of testing a Knight, which wasn't nearly as silly and stupid. He'd been through Hell once before, but she'd been asleep most of the time, unable to know exactly what. Some of her loneliness here, even more pronounced than it had ever been, it must have been his too.
'I'm always here, when you want to say something. Even if you don't.
- Squall'
It was so like him, to summarize something complicated and crazy into a single sentence or two and put more meaning into it than she could. Rinoa could smell leather, staring at that, warm black leather with just a hint of sweat. He only ever took off that jacket on the beach, when they all went to that place to pretend like they had normal childhoods. She'd gone alone here because she wanted to know if she was strong enough but that wasn't the point. All the Sorceresses that had gone crazy in the past has been without a Knight for one reason or another. When Edea was herself...
Rinoa's feather was black, and it wasn't a desert, but a barren wasteland of snow she had been wandering in.
---
"Why are you still wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Laguna's voice was a little jarring, but then, she'd only given him a day off, really. He must have thought she was sleeping in, as he'd gotten no word that she'd left the grounds.
If you go, I'll meet you there.
"Where is it?" Rinoa asked with Squall's sort of even tone, or maybe even Quistis's, the kind that could tell someone to go and risk their life. It surprised her and excited her all at once.
"Where's what?" Laguna replied, charmingly befuddled. She rose from her seat, simple black dress rustling down to her ankles.
"I want to see where they put people like me." I'm going to make it so they can't make me sit still again, Squall. I know you can hear me. I know you can.
"Why would you want to go there?"
Rinoa reached for the book, she knew it would be there, maybe it hadn't been there a moment before but it was there now and that's all that mattered. Now she was going to clasp her hands behind her back and give her best smile to Laguna and erase any worry from his features. Now Squall was going to pause outside the training center on his way to somewhere else, deciding to go in.
"Just a quick peek, I guess."
Judging by his sense of directions, it would take most of the day to get there.
---
We are the authors of history. It is written and carried out by our hands.
Without all the tubes and the power connecting to it, it was just metal. No hiss of cryogenics, no ice, no steam. Metal and glass like a coffin out of a story that her father used to tell her. Only she was the witch now and she'd left the hero at home. Sure, Laguna was there, edging on her peripheral, but she only needed to close the door and she could be alone.
No, Rinoa was never alone. On the one side, it was quiet afternoons and games of distract-the-commander, and on the other, it was the whispers of the spurned, those that would not be alone and so they came into her head saying burnthewitch...
"I'm not what's going to burn," she said aloud.
"Rinoa? Hey, I've got a bad--" With a smile she closed the door. Hopefully Laguna would forgive her later, but this was between her and--and the boy-man in the training center, just warming up.
The blonde woman stood in the corner, wearing white.
As Rinoa stepped up to it, this prison marked as a memorial, she realized just how small it was. The first time she'd been there it had seemed so vast, so sprawling, a frozen ocean of wires and glass. She wasn't sure if it was time or if it was just that now she could see things as well as she'd always felt them, but it was almost pathetic. To think that she'd had nightmares of this place, to think that she'd woken up and gripped his hand and told him, no, I couldn't be like that, not forever, closed in like that, unable to move.
He was waiting, but he wasn't standing still. Squall raised his right hand with his gunblade; she raised her right hand with the weapon of an invisible legacy.
"I'm doing this for us not for you," she spoke to the blonde woman in the corner. When Rinoa could see, things were so clear they almost hurt--it didn't matter who the woman was, really. It wasn't her she'd been chasing anyway. It only mattered that the woman was always there, and always had been. Maybe it was Rinoa's own way of making sense of all the signals.
"Then do it already," she said with her mother's voice.
The trigger on a gunblade worked so much different from the trigger that she called, something that she'd always used like a question, but was supposed to be a command. The flame was blue, a brilliant sapphire variety, the kind of thing that was so beautiful it had to be dangerous. When it came into contact with the metal, it softened and lost its shape, and the glass quietly turned into a multicolored pool where the coffin had been.
She watched it burn, and it was--no, there was something else. Rinoa would get the chain fixed later, it wasn't like she didn't know people that fixed things. She slipped the ring with the lion on her finger, the other she blew like a dandelion seed in with the rest of the things that she'd been afraid of.
It was only a start, because she found herself on her knees, gasping. Too much?
Laguna with a crowbar stood in the doorway, gaping at the column of fire that faded into embers after only a breath more. Rinoa waved to him tiredly. Squall would probably be in the training center for hours--it would take her a while to reach his kind of skill.
"Are you... what was... Rinoa, I'm confused."
"I'm sorry, I should have asked if you were planning on salvaging that with the rest of Odine's things."
He didn't really think she hadn't noticed how a lot of those files they'd been going through were labeled? And that was the first time that he didn't look at her with kind benevolence. It was just a flicker, really, anyone else would have missed it. But Laguna brushed it aside as he lent a hand to help her stand.
"I sure hope no one noticed that..."
"It's ok, Laguna. They'll find out eventually."
She wasn't quite sure if she believed the confidence in saying that, but it didn't matter really. Rinoa had been called headstrong once, for not worrying about the after once it had happened. They could be a little right. That instance of a strong hand at her shoulder and the faint smell of leather assured her that someone thought about the consequences at least.
A Knight is a conduit, a direction. A Knight is a compass.
She looped her arm in Laguna's. "Can you tell me more about Esthar?" she asked, leading them out, far away from the twisted metal and glass that looked almost like a wing if someone were viewing it from on high.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-03 12:41 am (UTC)I liked the imagery involved and the inclusion of Squall though I’m a bit lost on most of it. While I’m not sure it was intended I like how Laguna’s actions could be taken as subtle or tactless and Rinoa pick the later without much consideration.