joiedecombat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
joiedecombat) wrote2007-04-25 04:41 pm
joiedecombat) wrote2007-04-25 04:41 pm
Entry tags:
[FFVIII] ficfragment
Trying to write at work is horribly frustrating. I keep getting calls which interrupt my train of thought as I'm trying to -
call
- build -
call
call - "If she has time she'll call, and if not I've done what I could," he says. There is one thing I could tell him he could do that he has not done: try not being an asshat.
Ahem.
Anyhow, you see what I mean. Trying to write at work is frequently more trouble than it's worth, unless it's a slow day. Which today is not. Which is obnoxious because one of those Andy/Murrue fics has just about come together in my head and I want to get it written and argh.
On the other hand, I can still occupy the time between calls, such as it is, by going back through old stuff. Which is kind of cool, because now and again I find some unfinished thing that really came out well. Like this, the opening to the rewrite of "After the Storm" which I swear I am going to finish.
"Squall," it occurred to Rinoa to ask him, a few months after Ultimecia, "why isn't the infirmary open after curfew?"
Preoccupied with a report Quistis had dropped in to hand him only fifteen minutes earlier - something about cadet assessments - he didn't look up. "The medical staff has to sleep sometime."
She watched him studying the report, his face set in a little frown of sharply focused attention. "The training center is open after curfew," she said.
"The training center isn't staffed," he said, and picked up a pen.
"Squall," she said.
A beat passed, and then another, and she watched his eyes refocus. Behind them, she knew, he was processing, still staring at the report with the pen poised in his hand but seeing something else entirely.
Eventually the breath went out of him in a sigh and he looked up to meet her eyes, dropping the pen back to the surface of his desk. "...It's just always been that way," he said. "I don't know why."
Putting the report down, he reached for the intercom to call Dr. Kadowaki.
--
Lightning turned the night sky silver and illuminated Balamb Garden in smooth curves of translucent white through a curtain of water. Thunder followed seconds later, a snarling boom that momentarily drowned out the steady back and forth of the windshield wipers and the drumming of the rain on the car's roof. Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, Rinoa turned the car carefully along the last curve of the drive that looped around the Garden, grateful that at least Angelo traveled well.
I like storms, but not if I have to be out in them.
She hated driving - could man a train engine all day, but trains stayed politely on tracks. The road from Balamb to Garden was more of a suggestion. On a good day, Squall could make the drive in a little shy of half an hour - it had taken Rinoa twice that, nervously hugging the ribbon of pavement as it wound its way through dark sheets of rain that seemed to threaten to dissolve the car windows.
She'd been lucky to get the car at all, as late as her train had gotten into Balamb. Rinoa had spent a while wavering over the idea of getting a room at the Balamb Hotel and making the drive in the light of morning... but the violence of the storm had made the decision for her.
She needed to be at Garden.
call
- build -
call
call - "If she has time she'll call, and if not I've done what I could," he says. There is one thing I could tell him he could do that he has not done: try not being an asshat.
Ahem.
Anyhow, you see what I mean. Trying to write at work is frequently more trouble than it's worth, unless it's a slow day. Which today is not. Which is obnoxious because one of those Andy/Murrue fics has just about come together in my head and I want to get it written and argh.
On the other hand, I can still occupy the time between calls, such as it is, by going back through old stuff. Which is kind of cool, because now and again I find some unfinished thing that really came out well. Like this, the opening to the rewrite of "After the Storm" which I swear I am going to finish.
"Squall," it occurred to Rinoa to ask him, a few months after Ultimecia, "why isn't the infirmary open after curfew?"
Preoccupied with a report Quistis had dropped in to hand him only fifteen minutes earlier - something about cadet assessments - he didn't look up. "The medical staff has to sleep sometime."
She watched him studying the report, his face set in a little frown of sharply focused attention. "The training center is open after curfew," she said.
"The training center isn't staffed," he said, and picked up a pen.
"Squall," she said.
A beat passed, and then another, and she watched his eyes refocus. Behind them, she knew, he was processing, still staring at the report with the pen poised in his hand but seeing something else entirely.
Eventually the breath went out of him in a sigh and he looked up to meet her eyes, dropping the pen back to the surface of his desk. "...It's just always been that way," he said. "I don't know why."
Putting the report down, he reached for the intercom to call Dr. Kadowaki.
--
Lightning turned the night sky silver and illuminated Balamb Garden in smooth curves of translucent white through a curtain of water. Thunder followed seconds later, a snarling boom that momentarily drowned out the steady back and forth of the windshield wipers and the drumming of the rain on the car's roof. Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, Rinoa turned the car carefully along the last curve of the drive that looped around the Garden, grateful that at least Angelo traveled well.
I like storms, but not if I have to be out in them.
She hated driving - could man a train engine all day, but trains stayed politely on tracks. The road from Balamb to Garden was more of a suggestion. On a good day, Squall could make the drive in a little shy of half an hour - it had taken Rinoa twice that, nervously hugging the ribbon of pavement as it wound its way through dark sheets of rain that seemed to threaten to dissolve the car windows.
She'd been lucky to get the car at all, as late as her train had gotten into Balamb. Rinoa had spent a while wavering over the idea of getting a room at the Balamb Hotel and making the drive in the light of morning... but the violence of the storm had made the decision for her.
She needed to be at Garden.