Seifer Almasy

Seifer Almasy -!- Indie -!- Semi-selective -!- -!- Sideblog to hartofbalamb -!-

[prideanddiscipline]

FaceclaIm - Mitchell Slaggert 

[prideanddiscipline]

-Yeets a moogle across the dash with a banner attached-

“Y’all miss me yet?”

[prideanddiscipline]

corditeheart​:

“You’d be safer in a tent outside,” she fires back, and leans against the counter, the single apple she’d located in the fridge in hand, taking a bite out of it just to be a bitch about it. 

He gets a once-over (a twice-over, if she’s being honest; he’s a horrible little bastard, but at least he’s nice to look at. Shame about his mouth, and what comes out of it, though.)

“Let me guess, you don’t own pants, either.” 

Another bite of the apple, a thoughtful chew. The Brothers sit restless at the base of her skull, ready and willing to be called forth, to throw Seifer Almasy straight through every single wall of this dump if the situation calls for it. 

“I’ve got a job for you.” No add-ons, no if you’re interested. Unfortunately, she needs his skills; at least he’ll do it for less gil than a regular SeeD will. 

  He watched her sink her teeth into his breakfast without much reaction — to be honest he’d likely fill his belly with hot black instant coffee instead, just like most mornings, leaning his shoulder into the wall and folding his arms. The knife remained a grim focal point in his grip, however innocuous at the moment, and his brow lifted to see her eyeing him with her notorious critique. 

  “Some of us sleep at 2 am instead of chasing the ghosts of our past. Obsession doesn’t look good on you,” he retorted with a small shake of his head, not seeming in the least bit self-conscious by his state of undress — had the weather been any warmer she might not have been graced with the pair of steel gray boxer-briefs he was wearing.

  It wasn’t until she stated her reason for breaking into his trailer that his gaze would narrow in response, clearly not buying into the reasoning. “And I’ve got an agent that responds during regular business hours. You know... 9 am to 5 pm. Garden has the contact info.” He paused for a moment, staring at her before slowly his expression shifted, a knowing look crossing his visage. “But you don’t want Garden to know about this. This is personal,” a small grin crossed his lips like a cat that had cornered a mouse. “Guess I was wrong — it’s not obsession, it’s despiration.” He chuckled thickly. 

“Fits you much better.”

[prideanddiscipline]

corditeheart​:

@prideanddiscipline​

“You need better locks.” 

Less shitty ones, at least. Something someone might need more than two seconds to pick. 

Xu stands in the middle of what amounts to Almasy’s kitchen (it’s barely that), all in black motorcycle leathers like she’s coming back from, or on her way to, another job– but his junkheap is in the middle of the damn desert, and it had taken far too long to drive out here in the first place. 

It’s also 0215, but that has no bearing on anything. 

She opens cabinets, goes through drawers. Opens his refrigerator, investigates the contents, closes it again. 

“Don’t you have any food here?” She’s not hungry. However, she is genuinely curious how he hasn’t starved to death yet. 

  2 am visits were not a thing he was accustomed to in his neck of the woods — well, desert. Anyone who found their way out here was either horrendously lost or looking for trouble, and with his current running reputation he was assuming the latter. 

  He’d awoken to the sound of clattering in his kitchen, every muscle in his body twitching into action at a moment’s notice, reaching for the knife he kept hidden under his pillow and listening for a moment to ascertain what the culprit might be after. He decided it was best to wrest the upper hand sooner than later, tossing back the covers and climbing out of bed as quiet as he might, opening the already ajar bedroom door just enough to slip out into the hall. 

  He had been just about to round the corner noiselessly into the kitchen when he heard a familiar voice muttering to herself, the knife clutched tight in his grip loosening, followed by the tension in his tall stature. 

  “What’s the point, you could break into this place with a can opener,” he rasped, his voice sleep-laden. “Don’t tell me you came all the way out here to rustle up a late night snack — there’s a diner at Zyne’s Crossroads. The waiter there won’t slit your throat... probably.” He padded bare-foot up to her, closing whatever cabinet or drawer she might be poking around in, his expression unamused.

  “What do you want, Xu?” 

[prideanddiscipline]

Dirty Teasing Meme | status: open

@lionfated​ asked:  ❛  i want you to take control.  ❜

  ‘Control’. 

  That word between them was volatile. Reactive. A call to arms. Something that was so often fought for in a tug of war — back and forth... back and forth. It was something to be taken, fought for, won, but rarely — if ever— given. 

  And yet as they stood here, pressed bodily against each other in the shadowed niche of his trailer hallway, the other relented that prize so willingly it sent a chill down his spine, culminating in a shudder of breath against the bared skin of the other’s neck. He lifted his head from its tilt, catching Squall’s eye with a notable pause, a flicker of something uncertain in his face as if he were waiting for the other to take it back. At one time he would have acquiesced without a second thought, all too happy to take the lead and drag the whole world behind him without a care who fell in the dust — keep up or get out of the way. 

  But that was a time before the war; before Ultimecia; before the things he had done to Squall personally that made any sort of intimacy between them tentative at best, a minefield at worst. And yet they gravitated back to one another time and again, like two magnets destined to join until inevitable polarization. He’d been careful about ‘control’ in these occasions where they sought each other out. The parts of him that felt he deserved it were shadowed by the parts of him that felt he’d lost that right irrevocably. 

  But the look on the brunette’s face told him he’d earned himself another chance — a chance to soothe the wrongs of the past with something almost like trust, even if it was driven by carnal desire. Only time would tell if it would stick after the post-orgasmic glow wore off...

  The single breath of a chuckle slipped his throat with a curl of his lips, leaning in once more to brush those tiers over the shell of the man’s ear, speaking in a low tone with just a touch of cocky husk to his tenor “I thought you’d never ask.” 

  At the same time he spoke he reached for hips that were pinned to the wall beneath his own, seeking out belts he knew were there — too many of the damned things always; never could make it easy for him, could he? Deft fingers would make quick work of them as they had become accustomed to doing, though this time he kept one in hand, dragging it out of belt loops and bringing it up between them. He brought Squall’s arms down from around his neck until the man’s hands rested on his chest. He draped the length of leather over strong wrists and then waited, his gaze flickering to the other’s face once more as if to ask permission — to check that this was truly his step to take if he wished — as he fed the tail end through the buckle slowly, never once glancing away. 

[prideanddiscipline]

PSA

All Seifers are valid Seifers.

Except for me. I’m the One True Ballista Seifer™

[prideanddiscipline]

lionfated​:

@prideanddiscipline​  ╲   SEIFER ALMASY

➛   ‘ i’m not doing this for you. ’ 

(  RP MEME : RELUCTANT ALLIES . 🦁  )

                                     ❛ THEN WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS … ? ❜

Why was he even here? It’s what he wants to ask, wants to demand loudly as he glares at the reckless man. But he can’t seem to do much more than grunt at the tension, the agonizing pains racking through his frame like ricocheting bullets off an old tin roof. Each movement stings, burning like a fresh lightning strike  -  &  he can’t help but find some irritating irony in this being the one time he wants to talk to the blonde but can’t.

Swallowing down past the sharp tang of blood as it coats along his throat  &  pools at the base of his tongue, it’s horrifyingly familiar a thing, a sensation he’s easily able to ignore, work with, find the briefest of comforts in as he turns his attention away from his unlikely companion to focus back on the enemy the pair targets. Ask questions later  -  he muses.

For now, focus the big son of a bitch threatening to tear the both of them to shreds.

                                                           ❝     Later.    ❞

He states roughly.

Another harsh swallow, one that has his aching throat burning at the motion, gaze flitting across the beasts frame as it moved to stand  &  loom taller above them. The shadow cast should have petrified him. But he’s faced worse before. He doesn’t need to glance over to know the other is able to move just as freely, knowing full well he’s seen his own fair share of shit from being out in the field  &  on his travels.

In a way, it offers him the barest form of comfort. He promptly tamps down on that thought with the heel of his boot, grinding it down harshly with a scowl fixing itself firmly along his features as he raises his blade, drawing her back with a deep inhale that leaves his chest tensing in pain.

He waits, biding his time, all before he lunges forward, weaving around the attack promptly thrown his way. Squall makes sure to stay well out of Seifer’s way, feeling the heated sting of fire as his attacks whizzed along at his other side.

They’d talk about whatever dragged him out here later.

  There was no such thing as ‘thank you’ between them. No room for gratitude when it felt too much like submission — like admitting one or the other needed help. Seifer saw something akin to it when he put his body, looming, between Squall’s prone form and the beast that sought to spear them both with its jagged horns. He’d given his long-time rival a warning look that said don’t start now, I can’t have you getting soft on me. It was easier to play it off like this — like he was here for her because she begged him with those big brown eyes he’d been a sucker for since the first time he locked with them that fated Summer. It was easier to lie to himself and say he wouldn’t have come if she hadn’t asked him to — that the thought of a Squall-shaped void in his life didn’t bother him as much as it did; that he wouldn’t have come anyway, even if she hadn’t asked him. 

  I didn’t come here for you, I came here for me. 

  But ‘later’ was just the sort of dismissive blessing he had hoped to hear, steeling his jaw with a faint nod and turning around to face the creature once more — no doubt angered by the blonde’s fiery assault that seared the flesh of it’s arm into a charred and glistening spectacle. It was imposing, certainly, but in the end it was only Death in a different mantle — the same beast over and over again, and Seifer was no stranger to it, greeting it like and old friend with a cold sneer. 

  “Growl all you want, you won’t taste my blood today!” he called out to the hulking foe, lifting Hyperion to point in its direction before firing off a few shots in hopes of drawing its attention away from Squall’s attack. “Take out a leg! If it can’t charge us we’ll have the advantage,” he instructed over the sound of bullet casings scattering the dirt at his feet. With the clip emptied he sent a few blasts of flames at it just shy of Squall’s shoulder, careful not to singe but close enough that if the monster targeted the younger gunblader the burns would be unavoidable. 

[prideanddiscipline]

Random Dialogue Prompts | status: open

@lionfated​ asked:  “it doesn’t do any good to get worked up.”

 Doesn’t do any good? Doesn’t do any good? Didn’t Squall know by now that the worst possible thing to say to the blonde when he was furious was that he’s better off just not being mad? Seifer wheeled on him with a fire in his eyes that fixed on the brunette like a target scope, honing in as he stepped closer, closer, finally standing nearly chest to chest with him. 

  “Sure it does,” he said, almost conversationally if not for the bulge of veins in his arms and neck from the sheer force of will that kept him from burning the whole damn building to the ground. He tipped his head a little closer to Squall’s own, the in-your-face intensity betraying the single thin strand with which his patience was tethered to him. “You wanna be there when I pin it all up and explode? Hmm?” He sucked on his bottom lip before laughing in a low, thick tone and turning to walk away from his fellow gunblader again. 

  Suddenly his arm whipped out to the side, flames rushing down the length to gather at his fingertips, launching from his palm in a concentrated burst that caused a nearby trashcan to launch sky high before plummeting again in a heap of twisted metal and fluttering embers of garbage. A man across the street shouted at him, pointing a finger and accusing him of being a no-good trouble making youth. Seifer told him to blow it out his ass.

  Once the man shuffled off in a hurry, no doubt to inform the police, Seifer would turn back to face Squall with a far more placid expression, seeming almost relieved of the stress that had previously been winding him. He flexed his fingers which sparked and crackled before returning to their normal state. 

  “I didn’t sign up for this. Isn’t it enough that I’m risking my life every day for a bunch of ungrateful pissants? Do I have to also stand there and be their punching bag too? Should I offer them the other cheek and thank them? Bullshit,” he cursed, rejecting the notion, spitting at the doorstep of the hotel that refused to house him due to his criminal status: ‘it makes the guests uncomfortable.’

[prideanddiscipline]

Staying the Night Prompts | status: open

@loyalrage​ asked:  “[ DISCOVERED ]” receiver wakes up in the morning to find sender asleep on their couch because sender was watching over them.

  He knew the risks that came with the job, not that it mattered… death lurked around every corner with a knife or a bullet waiting for him, and just because he’d feinted the last few dozen times didn’t mean he could escape forever. At some point his get-out-of-jail-free card was gonna get punched. 

  This last time had been a little too close for comfort. 

  He hadn’t meant for anyone to find out, planning to stick it out in his trailer and lick his wounds like the wild animal he was. Bahamut’s 7 had given him medical leave to heal his broken arm, but it would not likely be enough for him to make a full comeback, and his piss-poor luck of it having been his gunblade arm didn’t give him high hopes for his future with the mercs, not to mention his future as a ‘free’ man outside of D-District prison.

  But unbeknownst to him his emergency contact had been informed — contacts that probably existed in Balamb Garden somewhere, maybe Cid. Maybe Squall. Neither thought pleased him. But if that had been the case neither man came. The one that DID show up, however, surprised him.

  Fujin.

  He hadn’t seen her for some months, and only then in passing. He didn’t keep the same company he used to, not wishing to drag his old posse down into the pits with him as they had been given a pardon from arrest when Seifer took full responsibility. He found her on his doorstep when he got home from the hospital, and despite reassuring her that he was fine and could manage on his own, found her sleeping on his couch still the next morning. 

  He gazed down over the back of the threadbare seat to her curled with her arm under the mismatched throw pillow he himself had fallen asleep on countless times, the static of the TV droning like quiet white noise in the background where it had lost signal as it often did some time in the night — he’d get up on the roof and fix it later… somehow. For now he merely stood there, contemplating, biting on his bottom lip, trying to decide whether to let her be or to wake her. 

  Turning he would walk barefooted back into his bedroom and yank up the throw blanket he kept at the foot of his bed for cold nights with his own good hand and return to her to drape it as carefully as he could manage over her sleeping form. If she was going to insist on helping he’d put her to work when she woke up, but for now he’d let her rest — who knows how long she waited outside that door for him to come home.

  He fumbled around the small kitchenette for a mug, struggling a little with his left hand to open the instant coffee canister he kept on his counter top and cursing to himself when he spilled the first spoonful. What a nuisance. He succeeded at last in boiling a kettle of water and making himself coffee, taking a seat at the card table he called his eating spot and sipping the black, bitter drink with marked resignation. 

[prideanddiscipline]

Random Dialogue Prompts | status: open

@lionfated​ asked: “are you in the witness protection program, or what?”

  It was daunting coming here these days. Too little had changed in the sleepy little seaside town and too much had changed with him. There was nowhere he could go in this place that did not recognize him for the brash young upstart that used to frequent the establishments of Balamb on the weekends with his posse, used to embark from the train station and docks for overseas missions, used to eat fresh seafood and sing karaoke at the hotel bar on Thursdays. Everyone recognized him the moment he stepped through the door, but no longer as that youth, but instead as the war criminal he was who had turned his skills and talents against them and their homeland; a pawn of the sorceress.

  His approach slowed as Squall greeted him with the flippant comment, prompting him to stop a couple yards from their designated meeting spot outside the train station where the SeeD was sent to pick him up. He removed his hat and sunglasses with a flat expression, wearing the countenance of a man waiting for something unknown. But sure enough after a few moments the muttering started, people passing by on the streets who recognized his face from the newscasts — the sorceress’ lapdog, as they liked to call him, especially now that he’d been muzzled. He let the gossiping masses speak for themselves before he slid the dark sunglasses back over clear ocean eyes, capping that head of close-cropped blonde and approaching the SeeD. 

  He thrust his duffel bag on the other like a chauffeur instead of a chaperone, choosing to play the role of local celebrity when truly he was a local pariah.

 “Don’t be mad that no one notices you when I’m around. Figured I’d be charitable,” he responded haughtily. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

[prideanddiscipline]

cosmoscompressed​:

The otherworldly escape from the Timber television station was not the last of the sorcerous wonders that Seifer would witness that day. As he entered the next car, Edea’s raven locks streamed, along with the twin laces of her mantle, in midair the entire length of the aisle - only to recoil to her person as she turned to face him. Folding her hands before her, the sorceress answered the question he had posed moments prior, albeit in a roundabout fashion.

“That was foolish of you, yes - but your foolishness was born of bravery and a need to act where and when others would not. Your former friends in SeeD undertook this mission purely on the basis of contractual obligation; you came here of your own accord, motivated by a conviction - a desire to see things right, as you so saw them. Therein lies all the difference. They are mere social animals, compelled onward by herd mentality; you are an individual, the master of your own fate. That is why I have chosen you.”

The sound of Deling’s voice in the adjacent car prompted Edea to turn her head askew. Glancing sidelong at Seifer, she locked eyes with him before imparting her final words. 

“Dance with me. Follow my lead.”

Flanked by two Galbadian soldiers, Deling exploded into the car, still hot with fury. Recognizing Seifer at once, his eyes flared.

“You! What are you doing here! Seize him!” 

Extending an arm directly outward, Edea froze the soldiers in their tracks. Baffled, the self-styled President shouted across the car.

“Sorceress! What is the meaning of this? This… boy humiliated me! Humiliated, and damn-nearly took my life! What are you protecting him for?”

Edea pressed her hands together, bowed her head, and proceeded to turn one palm upward to her side.

“My dear Vinzer, this is all a… misunderstanding. There has been no attempt on your life. Seifer here has only done as I asked of him.”

Deling’s jaw dropped.

“As you… asked of him? Are you mad?”

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Edea nodded, only to meet the President’s gaze from behind her heavy lashes.

“As I asked of him, yes. It was I who orchestrated the events that have unfolded today. Garden, and by extension the forces of SeeD, represent an existential threat to Galbadian supremacy. Recognizing certain… sympathies Seifer held toward our agenda, I approached him with a set of instructions - instructions he proceeded to execute flawlessly at the Timber television station. Surely you, Vinzer, can appreciate a bit of political theatre, no? Consider what the public sentiment must presently look like. All the world has just tuned in and watched on as, in a rare live broadcast, a paramilitary force interrupted the announcement of a peace summit. I should imagine Garden must seem a less… reputable organization to employ than they did at dawn. This act of unprovoked violence provides us the perfect opportunity to further exert our authority over Galbadia Garden - and marginalize Balamb and Trabia as we seek to solidify Galbadian control internationally in their respective regions.”

For a solid minute, an unnerving silence hung over the car before Deling erupted with a bellyful of laughter. Approaching Seifer, the President wrapped an arm around his shoulder and gave him the manliest side-hug he could muster.

“Genius! Absolute genius! You see, son - this is why I sided with the sorceress! Always one step ahead of everyone, she is. But still… still, couldn’t you have let me in on the secret, hmm? I might have played into it had I known, hmm?”

Edea shook her head.

“No. No, my dear Vinzer, you could have not. It was imperative your shock be authentic. Had you known, you might have spoiled the scheme with gestures… unconvincing to the public eye. I knew, and Seifier knew. He played his part exquisitely. Now it is time to continue with the charade.”

At that, Edea cast her gaze upon the one she had all-but anointed her knight. @prideanddiscipline​

  There was something inside him that swelled at her conjecture, a tiny, hidden part of him that bloomed with pride at being so recognized and separated from his peers — yes, I am different than them. A wolf among sheep. They never did see it, but I was destined for more. But he was not so proud as to gloat over her praise, equal if not greater parts of him still wary of the situation he’d found himself in.

  The sound of Vinzer Deling’s voice caused him to twitch into action, the grip on his gunblade tightening as he cast his gaze over her shoulder to the door just as the man made his entrance with security detail in tow. No sooner had the soldiers set one foot in his direction at the president’s orders that blade was up, aimed with deadly accuracy at the man’s face, the memory of his initial purpose ingrained in the fibers of his muscles. 

  ‘—And I’ll finish the job too if you don’t shut your pathetic trap’ were words that died on the back of his tongue, quelled by an inexplicable compulsion to remain placid, complaint; to leave the talking to her.

  She spoke of mutual plans, lies, sympathies Seifer had never once harbored for Galbadia or its lofty intentions. But as she spoke he realized the part he’d come to play in it — a very crucial and effective part, he realized, turning his gaze to the sorceress before him with new and grim understanding. He would have liked to think he held no more respect for Garden at this point, but upon realizing that he may well have damned them all he felt some small twinge of personal responsibility at the pit of his stomach that roiled with uncertainty. 

  Had he done the right thing?

  He snapped out of it a moment later when the president’s arm circled his shoulders at a bit of a reach, casting the man a look that he felt certain would utterly fail at not being disgusted, shrugging as casually as he could muster out of the grasp and putting a few steps of space between them. 

  “What now?” he prompted, hoping to change the subject away from his very treasonable behavior, intent now on learning of their plans, and he supposed, the part he would come to play in them. 

[prideanddiscipline]

onepartbrave​:

Keeping his gaze fixated on the world just outside the glass, Squall showed no visible sign he was listening. Despite that, he knew Seifer was assured he was. Or so he hoped. Not much changed in the time since he’d last seen the other, least of all his attitude and nuances. More attentive perhaps, a little on the ‘more open’ side, but that was all minor, unimportant. Similar alterations he expected from the blond, too, but the driving force behind his persona remained.

It was how he was certain Seifer would accept and why he’d bothered wasting time asking to begin with.

“Mm, already set out. The wage will match that of any certified SeeD that would’ve been in your place. Additional time equals additional pay. If you’re unhappy with any detail, I can amend them as I see fit.” Breaking his staring contest with his shallow reflection, Squall glanced partially over a shoulder to bring his (ex?) rival into view. “I assume I send it to the group you’re currently affiliated with?”

Pointedly, he ignored the remark about his choice being incorrect. While he acknowledged and respected Seifer’s opinion, his mind was set and nothing about the arrangement would make him regretful.

“Do you have a requested sum to start with? Or any other requirements I should know about and cater for?”

  He’d be paid as a SeeD? Well, wasn’t the commander of Balamb a generous one, he thought, lifting a brow at him. Certainly more generous than his superiors, who took full advantage of the merc’s piddly pay scale and rented him on the cheap more than once. 

  While tempting, Seifer knew it would be in poor taste for him to inflate his fee recklessly. One glance at the invoice and Garden would never let him set foot in the place again, possibly with penalties for Squall as well for spending their funds so carelessly. 

  “You know my skills and the SeeD ranking qualifications as well as anyone — pay me as you see fit. I guarantee whatever you pick it’s more money than I’d see in a month otherwise,” he admitted, his voice as devoid of shame as it had ever been despite how little he cared for that detail. 

  “All I need is transportation and lodging for the duration of the mission. The rest is on me,” he shrugged a shoulder, lifting the mug to his lips to take a drink, that curious gaze never leaving the brunette. Such an odd turn of events after their sordid history, that they’d work together like this. One mission was already under the belt as a success and another lined up on its heels... perhaps they weren’t such a terrible team after all. 

[prideanddiscipline]

onepartbrave​:

Squall understood the incredulity he spotted in Seifer’s scrutiny. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t request such from someone who held such distorted memories with Garden. Hell, he personally wouldn’t be attending, having personnel trained specifically for such. Currently, his team was stretched thin and the last official member… was him. And, for his safety and sanity, he desired a familiar face in attendance.

So what if his only option was someone controversial?

Accepting the reasonable questions without fuss, Squall simply shook his head. After another thoughtful sip of his beverage, he decided straightforward honesty would work best in his favour. “I will be there to ease their anxieties. I want you there to ease mine.”

No, he wasn’t going to elaborate further. Standing upright, Squall wandered idly over to the balcony window joined to the lounge area. A frosty morning offered a sparkly gleam to the outside world and it made him ever thankful to be inside and warm.

“You don’t have to accept,” he informed amicably, “as you say, it’ll be cake-walk for me.”

  No, he didn’t have to accept — hell, he shouldn’t accept. It was a terrible idea, tossing a convict in the middle of a political meeting; at best it would be seen as intimidation. At worst, sabotage. Still, there was one matter that held sway over his decisions almost every time, regardless of the broader picture.

  “There will be pay? A legitimate contract?” he ventured, glancing up from his coffee after a moment. It had been a while since he’d had coffee this good. Part of it may have been Squall’s innate sense of strength and brew, but a bigger part of it was it didn’t come in jarred granules that dissolved in hot water. If he ever wanted to make proper coffee a part of his mornings again he’d have to keep the bottom line in mind.

  “Send it through the correct channels and you’ve got yourself a backup. But I still think you’re making a mistake,” he reasoned with a small shake of his head, turning in his seat to watch the other depart toward the window. 

[prideanddiscipline]

Born for Greatness - Papa Roach

I am a man at war And I am fighting for All of the broken people All of the people thrown overboard They always tried to shame us But they don’t speak the language No we’re not nameless, we’re not faceless We were born for greatness

[prideanddiscipline]

onepartbrave​:

Wholly contented his ploy to defuse Seifer’s temper before it escalated had worked, Squall allowed a privately amused smile to quirk his lips as he continued to stare out at the open beauty nature provided. It unintentionally grew at the returning threat, knowing all too well the bellicose blond would go through with it. Until the end and more so, a perfect sentence when describing someone of his rival’s personality.

Taking respite in the silence that followed, a calm, comfortable silence at that, Squall let his mind wander over the most recent event. A simple outside excursion with the newest sorceress to date transformed into something ugly and dangerous within the blink of an eye. A request of Rinoa’s to leave unattended was reluctantly granted by himself, always the more concerned whenever the headstrong freedom-fighter made a decision and set on it. ‘What could go wrong, Squall? It’s only Timber! They know me there!’ and large puppy-dog eyes made him cave, accept and watch on as she flounced away with a bubble of giddy joy propelling her.

A few hours was all it took for recognition to set in, the word travelling fast and protesting groups seemingly spawned out of nowhere. A minor disagreement became an all out war in minutes, exploding in a frenzy of cursed shouts and wayward fire. Luckily, the burn damage was minor but Rinoa’s state of mind was not. Shock was the best descriptive word Squall had when overwatching the aftermath (he’d arrived when shit went down). Thoroughly stunned and hurt. Those were people she had fought for, and they now fought her.

Seifer’s voice brought Squall out his head and back into the present. Glancing at his companion over a shoulder, the fluff of which brushed his chin in an irksome manner, he waited with muted patience for the man to have his say. To which… he hadn’t any disagreement with. After the war, talk of magic spooked everyone and civilians, to this day, were still scared. What if one day the sorceress turned and became the next Adel? Who would stop her? The knight that protects her while commanding a significant military force?

Yeah… he understood opinions were divided. Without a doubt if he hadn’t been so deeply immersed in the shit show from before, he’d be standing on the opposite side he did now.

“…You’re not wrong,” Squall concurred quietly, form turning so he could rest on one elbow and face Seifer simultaneously. The free hand waved idly in the air when he spoke, mimicking the sense of helplessness he had over the situation. “But the alternative is keeping Rinoa locked away. I can’t do that to her nor accept she only has two future paths—eternal imprisonment or death from a frightened civilian.”

A hesitant pause Squall gave was highly noticeable. Unlike what he’d said he’d called Seifer onboard for to discuss plausible solutions, his next request was likely going to sound absurd considering…

“I… she needs training. I don’t know where to start with raw magic. I figured since you were the knight to someone who was trained… you might know where we can start better?”

  He was glad Squall didn’t bother to argue with him, not much in the mood for debate, but had he known what he’d trade that branch of conversation for he would have gladly taken the turn.

  “The days of free-roaming sorceress’ are at an end, I’m afraid. Guess if you threaten humankind with annihilation enough times they start wising up. Imagine that,” he trailed off with a sarcastic wilt to his tone. The question that followed, however, took a moment to sink in, the second it settled made obvious by the sharp knit of his brow and the critical green gaze that bore into the man beside him. 

  “She’s dead, Squall. Dead and fucking buried. Specks of dust in the universe — I sure as Hyne hope you saw to that,” his voice grew low, severe. Ultimecia was evidently still a sore spot, even years later. He would relax not long after, though his expression remained dour.

  “Why not ask Edea? She had that witch rattling around in her head for a good ten-plus years, I’m sure she’s got some tips,” he reasoned, gazing back out over the railing. “Besides, the less I have to do with Rinoa the better, for everyone involved. I’m not violating my parole to help indoctrinate the next finger-wiggling dictator,” he wiggled his fingers in mimicry. 

[prideanddiscipline]

onepartbrave​:

Satisfied at visually finding his gifted drink favourable, Squall nodded faintly in acknowledgement at Seifer’s response to his question. The couch was comfortable, finding himself passing out more often than was necessary considering his bedroom wasn’t even ten feet away. Fingers tapping lightly on the warm porcelain, he took a seat on said couch’s arm, another few mouthfuls of coffee assisting in pulling him further from drowsy and into more awareness.

“Fine,” he answered pleasantly, eyes flicking up from the cup to the face of his guest. Knowing the man wasn’t the greatest when practising patience, Squall took sympathy and cut short any unnecessary small-talk. Hell if he knew whether Seifer was feeling uncomfortable and merely wanted to get the morning over with.

“Yes, they are, to answer your previous question. I’ve been asked personally to attend from being a recognisable face. Something about setting anxieties at ease.” A fleeting pause ensued as Squall downed another few mouthfuls, brows furrowing somewhat at the lighter weight his cup acquired. He hated when the coffee ran out too quickly. “We all know it’s just for show—I doubt I’ll do more than stand by for however many hours they argue over semantics.”

Freeing one hand from being wrapped around the mug, Squall gently pushed back some bothersome strands of chestnut poking him in the eye. Quirking a brow up in question, he asked, “Have you time to attend? I have other personnel that could but I’m a little stretched thin over the next few weeks…”

  Seifer hummed quietly against the rim of the mug with a subtle nod at the confirmation of his suspicion — it wasn’t exactly a far stretch, Dollet often called upon Balamb Garden for military intervention since theirs had been many years disbanded. He’d heard talk through the grapevine of them reinstating their own force, but he doubted very much they’d pass up the chance to wave a world-renowned SeeD in Galbadia’s face. 

  The question that followed, however, did surprise him, influencing a pause with pursed lips mid-sip. Beryl eyes cut sidelong to the Commander who sat perched on the arm of the couch, giving him a dubious look before slowly lowering the drink. 

  “If the aim is easing anxieties, I think we both know I wouldn’t be on the top of their list of invitees,” he smile a thin, mirthless smile before taking that interrupted drink and cradling the mug in his lap with a skim of his thumb across the rim. 

  “Should be a cake-walk for you anyway. Expecting trouble?” he leaned back against the cushions and stretched an arm along the back of the couch. 

[prideanddiscipline]

*puts a flower in his hair* (Yuna, somethingxgreater)

  She wouldn’t find much hair to tuck it into, unfortunately, both sides cropped rather short against his head but it would fit nicely behind an ear. Surprisingly he allows it without complaint.

  “Ah yes, I can hear my enemies trembling already.”