[Final Fantasy VIII] Meant To Be
May. 4th, 2009 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lassarina posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rose_in_winterCharacters: Seifer, Edea
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fated_children, prompt #1: Destiny.
Wordcount: 421
Summary: Seifer is where he always dreamed he'd be.
Beta: None
He always dreamed he'd be here some day. The crowd is tense with suppressed excitement, waiting for the sorceress--his sorceress--to appear and speak to them. He hears her voice roll out, and even with the electronic distortion of the amplifier, it's perfect. Her voice is magic, darkness, thunder, ice, all wrapped into that purring croon that enchants them just as it enchants him. He can almost feel it sliding over his skin, a slow silky caress that soothes and excites at the same time.
Even when she insults them, they cheer for her. They should cheer for her. She's his sorceress, and if they don't revere her, worship her, as he does, he'll kill them for her, an offering of blood to christen her new reign. But they cheer and shout her name, so he keeps Hyperion sheathed at his side.
He stops lounging against her throne, drawing himself upright as she walks out of the Presidential Residence, bowing to her as she slowly ascends the steps onto the float. With her long gown that flows to the ground and her infinite grace, she seems to glide rather than walk. She walks slowly to her throne and seats herself, never looking at him. He takes up his position at her right hand, feeling a satisfied smile curve his lips as the float begins to move.
They snake their way through the tangled streets of Deling City, Edea sitting still and regal on her throne. Her gaze never wavers, never deigning to look upon the people who throng around their float. And he basks in her reflected glory, savouring the feel of her power thrumming through his mind. It's a song only he can hear, and like her voice, it's a caress. He feels charged, as though he stands in the midst of a lightning storm with electricity racing over his skin, and he surrenders to her. Everything is perfect, just as he's always dreamed.
The sudden absence of the magic wrapped around his every nerve is nearly as shocking as the sniper's bullet frozen in the shield Edea threw up. He stares, unable to believe someone dared to attack his sorceress. And then he sees him. Puberty Boy, charging forward with some long-haired cowboy and what the hell is she doing here? It doesn't matter. They threaten his sorceress and they will die. He steps forward, Hyperion ringing free of its sheath, and his mouth stretches into a broad grin. This is his destiny. He was born for it.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers
Notes: Written for
fated_children, prompt #1: Destiny.Wordcount: 421
Summary: Seifer is where he always dreamed he'd be.
Beta: None
He always dreamed he'd be here some day. The crowd is tense with suppressed excitement, waiting for the sorceress--his sorceress--to appear and speak to them. He hears her voice roll out, and even with the electronic distortion of the amplifier, it's perfect. Her voice is magic, darkness, thunder, ice, all wrapped into that purring croon that enchants them just as it enchants him. He can almost feel it sliding over his skin, a slow silky caress that soothes and excites at the same time.
Even when she insults them, they cheer for her. They should cheer for her. She's his sorceress, and if they don't revere her, worship her, as he does, he'll kill them for her, an offering of blood to christen her new reign. But they cheer and shout her name, so he keeps Hyperion sheathed at his side.
He stops lounging against her throne, drawing himself upright as she walks out of the Presidential Residence, bowing to her as she slowly ascends the steps onto the float. With her long gown that flows to the ground and her infinite grace, she seems to glide rather than walk. She walks slowly to her throne and seats herself, never looking at him. He takes up his position at her right hand, feeling a satisfied smile curve his lips as the float begins to move.
They snake their way through the tangled streets of Deling City, Edea sitting still and regal on her throne. Her gaze never wavers, never deigning to look upon the people who throng around their float. And he basks in her reflected glory, savouring the feel of her power thrumming through his mind. It's a song only he can hear, and like her voice, it's a caress. He feels charged, as though he stands in the midst of a lightning storm with electricity racing over his skin, and he surrenders to her. Everything is perfect, just as he's always dreamed.
The sudden absence of the magic wrapped around his every nerve is nearly as shocking as the sniper's bullet frozen in the shield Edea threw up. He stares, unable to believe someone dared to attack his sorceress. And then he sees him. Puberty Boy, charging forward with some long-haired cowboy and what the hell is she doing here? It doesn't matter. They threaten his sorceress and they will die. He steps forward, Hyperion ringing free of its sheath, and his mouth stretches into a broad grin. This is his destiny. He was born for it.