#*v; onward

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@reveromantique It's a valid question, he supposes. Rhetorical, more than likely; he treats it as such, looking down at the flat of Hyperion's blade, and reaching with one gloved hand to flick away a substantial chunk of monster gore. It sends up another spray of blood, most of it splattering across her skirt. Whoops. He'd pretend to be sorry, if it were worth the effort. Fortunately, it isn't, and the way he looks her up and down isn't in the least apologetic. "You know, most people would just say thank you, Trepe."

It's not the first time she's been splashed with the liquid remains of monster viscera, but there's a part of her that suspects the trajectory of the spray was intentional. The other part rationalizes that although he is skilled, he's not that skilled. Either way, she chooses not to react to it, it's not that difficult to remove blood from clothing. She's been doing it regularly since her early teens, after all. She rolls her tongue against the roof of her mouth, willing the words she wishes to say in response to his poor attitude to dissipate, instead offering an almost-genuine, "you're right; thank you," as she makes her approach. Sometimes it's easier to just say what he wants to hear even if they both know she doesn't mean it. Her boot pushes into the flesh of the monster, peeling back a layer of muscle tissue and she quickly leans down to pluck something shiny from within it. She turns it over in her hand, would have thought of just pocketing it had she been in the company of anyone else. Instead, she rolls it between her fingers and raises it to show him. It's a Wizard Stone. Neither of them really need it, but she rationalizes that of the two, he would need it more than she. Or maybe she just likes the idea of getting under his skin by gifting it to him. He was the one who felled the creature after all, so she has no claim to any of its loot to begin with. She closes her fist around the stone and makes a motion to signify her intent to toss it to him, then does so. "Blue suits you better."

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@grievehart The steady hum and gentle occasional rocking of the train would have been relaxing in another scenario, perhaps, but the way Quistis struggled to flip through the pages of a magazine she wasn't even truly reading was a subtle sign of the nervous energy she attempted to mask, easily missed if one wasn't entirely observant of her behavior. She was no stranger to the concept of mediation, often having been the one tasked to look after the more troublesome students in her past, but she never felt she had been particularly skilled at it. Time and time again, she proved that her efforts to communicate were destined to fall short. She had the intellect, the charm, the observational skills, the grace expected of a diplomat, and yet the pieces never quite fit together. The task of returning to Timber as a representative of Balamb Garden wasn't at all the type of mission she was expecting to be recruited for, but a part of her felt a swell of confidence at having been chosen above all others, people who she felt would be much more qualified, much more successful than she. Xu, maybe. Nida, even. But with that confidence came the nagging thought buzzing around in the back of her skull that told her that if this fails, it's on her. Squall. Everything seemed to come naturally to him. She knew how irritated he could get when reminded of how unintentionally successful he was at most things, and how people seemed content to take a mile for every inch he gave. The expectations of him, the pressure he must have felt, the pressure he likely feels now. Knowing this of him brought a small amount of comfort to her system, dulling the racing of her heart as she willed away her thoughts of what-ifs and why-mes. Not that she wanted to see him feel uncomfortable, of course, but the thought that she might not be the only one nervous about this—even if she was projecting those feelings onto him—is ultimately what steadied her hands. Quistis closed the magazine and set it between them on the cushioned seat of the Timber-bound train and pushed it towards him, a silent offering. Although she hadn't read it, what she could glean from the pictures in it were idealistic designs of future travel. Skyferries, or something like that. Although air travel made sense as the next step in worldwide tech since the radio industry was flourishing once more, she couldn't imagine it would happen any time soon. The world was still in need of improving what it already had, many countries still in debt as a result of the damages during the war so many years ago. The Dollet Dukedom a prime example. A slight buzzing sound, quiet and barely noticeable, came from the speaker against the wall of the train compartment. Immediately following it came a four-note jingle in indication of an announcement. A deep voice cut through the static. ["Attention passengers. We will be arriving in Timber in approximately one hour. I repeat. We will be arriving in Timber in approximately one hour. Thank you." ] The static remained for a moment before a dull thump sounded, followed by silence. Qusitis rested her head against the seat, frowned at the feeling of her hair clip pushing into the base of her skull, and sat back up straight again. Truly, no comfort would come to her this day. Figures. "The Timber Parliament will be meeting with us at the Tomra Convention Center at 1600 hours, meaning we will have—" She paused, hooking a finger into the cuff of her SeeD uniform to peek at her watch. "Two hours to kill before then." Enough time to walk around, maybe get a bite to eat, do something to get her thoughts in order. "Could have a drink at one of the pubs near the station, take the edge off?" It was said in jest. Mostly. The last thing she needed was to be inebriated during a conference about the SeeD's continued involvement in a still-unliberated city, although she wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly what she needed to calm her nerves enough to fulfill her duties assisting the Commander of Balamb Garden. "I'm definitely going to need one afterwards, though."

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@saigeonmain​ says:  Rinoa wraps one arm around Quistis' arm, 'locking' the mercenary in. "A bird told me that you're off duty." What bird will remain a secret. "So I planned for us to have fun the day!" Always start with high expectations and let them bargain their way down if they resist. Rinoa will easily settle for a few hours of quality time with her.

Quistis is perfectly content with spending her day off enjoying the nice weather outside in the Quad. She’s planned to have a snack from the deli section of the cafeteria and play a few rounds of Triple Triad with members of the Card Club. Simple, easy, so different from the typical hustle-and-bustle of her busy life.  Even so, the Quad is quite lively. Cadets chat amongst each other, some play music, some rehearse on the stage. It’s the perfect place to sit and observe the lives of the student base. It makes her feel nostalgic for her early teen years as a cadet. Thankfully, she can count on Rinoa to remind her of her youth. The woman clings to her, snapping her out of the wistful thoughts. “You...came to me to have fun?” She inquires, surprised and yet flattered at the notion that Rinoa would enjoy her company. “Selphie is busy today, I suppose?” She doesn’t mean it to be self-depreciating, not completely. Quistis can let loose every once in a while when she has stamina for it. Selphie is much more energetic and seems to vibe better with Rinoa overall. It’s not insulting to know she’s not always the first choice for either of the girls in terms of companionship.

But it’s true, she doesn’t have anything particularly noteworthy planned for the day outside of the usual, and her curiosity towards Rinoa’s idea of fun is prevalent enough to lean into. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she says, placing her free hand atop Rinoa’s arm. “What did you have in mind?”

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@dreamesweaver​ asks:  "what is it that i did, quisty, that has made you so distant? please tell me."

She feels shockingly hollow, Ellone’s words reverberating through her rib cage, sending jolts of pain to her chest. Like a child being reprimanded for disobeying orders, her heart rate increases in embarrassment, the waves of heat and chills pulsating through her limbs and settling into her extremities. Surely, her ears must be bright red.

It’s true. There has been some level of avoidance on her part. Unable to confront her feelings of inadequacy souring, slowly, into resentment, Quistis simply tip-toes around the conflicting emotions. It’s much easier to become diplomatic, professional, but impersonal around Ellone than to admit the petty fact that she’s jealous. Not envious, no, she recognizes the hardships the woman has gone through and doesn’t wish for that life at all. It’s jealousy. Her status within the group has (seemingly) been revoked since Ellone’s return. Attention shifted from her, who had taken on the older-sister role since Ellone left, to the former and true older-sister. It gives to reason that Quistis has used the status to elevate her, to give her purpose, to have some sort of presence among the others. Without it, without that level of comfort, Quistis isn’t sure where she stands with her friends, isn’t sure if the connections were made out of necessity. Someone had to step up and be the oldest of the group, the most wise and intelligent. The most capable. The most trustworthy. Ellone was not an object to be replaced, she knew. When she was taken away and Quistis stepped forth from the shadows with the intention of being a source of fulfillment for Squall, ultimately, she failed. As she should have. It wasn’t the same as replacing a lost toy with another gift. It was so much deeper than she could have ever known, or perhaps she did know and didn’t have the ability to express it at the time. A part of her always wondered if Squall’s aversion to her was a result of Quistis’s attempt to step into Ellone’s shoes. She would never, could never fill that spot in his heart. It was ridiculous for her to even try. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just worn out right now,” she says, and it’s at least half-truthful which is a nearly fruitless attempt at absolving her of guilt, but the little bit it grants is enough for her to cling to so she doesn’t have to acknowledge just how unfairly she’s treating her. Ellone hasn’t done anything wrong, not really. How could she, when she wasn’t even granted a chance to live her life, nor a chance to be in theirs? Ellone was this nebulous being who simultaneously played a large part in their development, and yet was almost completely nonexistent for the most crucial years of their lives. Quistis doesn’t understand it. Why do they flock to her? Someone who wasn’t there for everyone the way she was. Someone who doesn’t even understand Squall, and yet he is still drawn to her. Someone who is continuously looked-up to just for existing. Shoulders tense and the feeling of embarrassment seeps out of her like oil. She smothers the shame with stubborn bitterness, returning to the previous activity of taking inventory of medical supplies instead of acknowledging her company. It’s proving Ellone’s point, but she believes she can disguise it as simply being unavailable due to the nature of her job.