[FFVIII] With Good Intentions (wip)

[joiedecombat]

"Rinoa."

Squall's voice reached her first, through the ringing that filled her ears and the sick, roiling pressure of Adel's power settling into place within her, pushing at her breastbone and behind her eyes. She curled her fingers into the fur ruff of his jacket and buried her face against the angle of his shoulder, clinging to the solid strength of him and breathing in the scents of leather and gunpowder and ozone to chase away the tang of blood.

"Are you all right?"

No one could be "all right" after nearly being physically absorbed into the body of an insane sorceress, feeling her flesh sinking into Adel's and the life draining out of her, engulfed by Adel's madness. But it was Squall asking, and everyone was waiting, and the hands that wielded a gunblade with such bone-crushing force were carefully gentle against her back and on her hair. So she swallowed hard, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to try and manage a smile. "I'm okay." Her voice came out wavery and thin, and Squall's mouth tightened, his face etched with lines of strain and worry and the pained discomfort of self-condemnation.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words low and husky and quiet. Never mind that he hadn't been the one who'd fed her to Adel - that had been his repayment for still being capable of mercy, for not having it in him to kill Seifer even now. Squall would blame himself, because Squall seemed built to shoulder responsibility. Garden had seen to that.

She tried to tell him it was all right, but she'd barely opened her mouth when her body simply stopped obeying, muscles seizing with a sudden dizzying inrush of still more power that poured in until it seemed her skin would split with it and all the hatred and madness that it carried.

They had, after all, played right into Ultimecia's hands.

Through the roaring in her ears, Rinoa heard Laguna shout. Ellone was mercifully quick; though it was Ultimecia's insanity in control of her body, the sorceress had no chance to act before Ellone's power took hold, and so the last thing Rinoa saw as the world dissolved into white was Squall's face, a trace of the fear of an abandoned child showing through the seams where his stoic mask had cracked.


Can I ask you something?

...Ellone?

Yes, I... It's funny, I though I'd accepted that the past can't be changed, but now...

You want to try again?

Is it silly? I just can't help thinking... things could have been so much better, if only Laguna had gone back to Winhill, just once. Even if Raine still had to die, she'd be able to see him one last time, and he'd know... And maybe Squall wouldn't have to...

Maybe he wouldn't have been so alone...

You understand. I couldn't change things no matter how hard I tried, but when I sent Squall to you, you felt him, didn't you? Maybe with the help of a sorceress, I could...

What about Ultimecia?

She's already compressing time. This may be the only chance.

Ellone... I don't know if I'll be able to do anything. But if you want me to, I'll try to help.

Thank you, Rinoa.

Just tell me what I should do.


Rinoa woke to the faint vibrations and the dull, muffled roar of an airship in flight, blinking in vague confusion at the brightness of the light through the windows. For a moment, nothing quite made sense. Then she made a soft, disoriented "mnn?" sound, and the man in the seat across from her turned to look her way. "Did you sleep well?" he asked her, the slightest hint of amusement warming his voice. "We're almost there."

"Almost...?" she echoed, still not quite understanding. The nausea lingering in her throat kept her from saying anything else; she pressed her fingers against her chest, over the ring that hung on its chain around her neck, and found her skin clammy.

The motion caused General Caraway - no, Rinoa corrected herself bemusedly, her father - to raise his eyebrows. "Motion-sick?" he said. "That isn't like you."

"I think I had a weird dream." She curled her fingers around her mother's ring, momentarily baffled by the light weight and the smooth shape of it.

"Well," said her father, "we'll be landing at Esthar Airstation soon."

Esthar. Right. "Do you think the President will meet us there?"

"I don't see why. I'm sure he'll send one of his aides to welcome us." The look her father gave her held, once again, that trace of restrained amusement. "Don't worry. You'll get to meet him soon enough."

"I know." She always felt a little like he was patronizing her when he looked like that - so she turned to look out the window instead, watching the strange, stark white landscape below give way to the smooth, sparkling structures of the city of Esthar. "I'm just curious. There's a lot I'd like to find out about President Loire. After all, he's from Galbadia originally, right?"

"Enlisted in the army, until his medical discharge."

"He wasn't even an officer." Rinoa looked back up from the window toward her father. "But in Esthar, he's a hero. They say he overthrew the sorceress."

"Rumors and legends are usually exaggerated," her father pointed out.

"I know that. And his service record in the army wasn't even very good, you said. But..." Once more, Rinoa looked out of the window. "He's been president of Esthar for seventeen years. And Esthar's been doing pretty well since he took office." If the view from the window of the airship was any indication, Esthar was doing more than "well." Rinoa was used to Deling City, with its dignified old buildings of brick and stone and plaster and wrought iron. But Esthar was sleek and shining in glass and steel, all shades of blue and rose and silver and gold in layers of translucence that made it look like a jewel-box in the bright sunlight of a May afternoon. "Do you think we'll get to stay all summer?"

"That depends on President Loire, and President Deling." There was a sort of quelling note in her father's tone, but Rinoa deliberately ignored it, turning around in her seat to grin at him instead.

"And how good you are at your job, I know. I guess for an ambassador the goal should be to come to an agreement quickly." One more look out the window, as the airship descended, angling towards the broad landing pad of the airstation. "But I can't help hoping that we get to stay for a long while."



Not entirely certain whether to scene-cut there or keep going a little longer.