#v; epicinium

[youngrevolutionary]

@headmasterkramer​ // ‘  things will work out,  but good things take time.  '

The words just barely register in Seifer’s mind as it tries to catch up with the events that had transpired over the course of a mere 48 hours.

At first it felt like they were all toying with Seifer for how long it took them to finally begin. Then, once it had, all of it came at once-- happening so fast that Seifer had no chance at keeping up with it all. It began with the hearing, and then came negotiation, examination, then even more grueling and torturous negotiations until finally, at last -- resentencing.

Resentenced. Released into Garden custody. For the first time in two years, Seifer was breathing fresh air.

But relief wouldn’t be felt. Not then, and certainly not as he stood before the Administration as they detailed the terms of their arrangement with the courts.

Seifer was now to be a Ward of the Garden System. He was to be monitored, at all times. Actvities, conversations, engagements-- all logged. Only two hours a day outside of his assigned room were alotted to him. He was to have absolutely zero communication with the outside world. Absolutely zero communication with Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly. Monitored, logged, babysat. There were no personal freedoms here, no right to privacy. And should Seifer dare to protest-- he was met with scrutiny. ‘You need to be grateful for the liberties you’ve been awarded,’ they said, ’you have so many already.’

He didn’t understand. He stood there with his arms folded in his front, staring at the empty chairs where the Administration sat -- a panel of men and women elected to represent Garden’s best interests and maintain the integrity of the system. When had this been implemented? Where did these people come from? What else had changed while Seifer had been away?

He’s... out of his element. And it’s no wonder-- that Cid was there long after Seifer was awarded those few short moments of silence. Of seclusion.

But when Cid speaks, all Seifer can do is shake his head, roll his eyes. Be indignant to these ‘treasured’ freedoms he already has. Be grateful. Good things take time.

He had to prove he could be trusted. That he would not fall into the same patterns of behavior they missed the last time. They missed. They. Yet, this was all somehow his fault.

Cowards...

Turning to face Cid-- and all he can do is sneer. Throw this ‘gracious plenty’ right back in his face. Always so narrow-sighted when it came to his own best interests. “Screw that. Send me back to Galbadia. I’m not going to have my freedoms dangled just out of my reach so you can all feel like you’re serving up some twisted sense of ‘justice.’”

[youngrevolutionary]

@headmasterkramer​ says, “ take it easy, drugs are still wearing off. ”

The last thing Seifer remembered before waking up in the Infirmary was the open, gaping maw of one extremely territorial bull T-Rexaur charging toward Seifer with it’s angry, gnashing teeth. It should be no surprise that he’s struggling to gather his bearings, even fighting to get the IV and oxygen tube out.

Because all he’s feeling right now is pain. Pain that beleaguered once relaxed features and envelopes him in a whirl of misery -- the kind that drives Seifer to need to escape it, by any means necessary. So he fights restraints, gritted teeth bared as he twists, breaths short, vitals machines signaling distress..! 

But Kadowaki is already there, pushing in a dose of some miracle drug before from a mystery syringe before Seifer has a chance to really feel the extent of the damage by ripping open those delicate stitches. But damage from what? What the hell happened?! 

The heart monitor settles as he does, heavy pants are his only fast motion as he lulls his head downward, practically seeing the pain wash from his body, and leaving out the tips of his toes. There’s a dull throb, but it’s nothing like before. 

A heavy sigh leaves him, the restraints on his arms long enough for him to be able to rub his face. Once his eyes adjust, he starts to pull himself back together and eventually --- ah, yes... 

Now, he remembers the fall. Being chased out of the training center area where no one but the trained staff was allowed to go -- Seifer thought he was smart, cutting through the area... what he didn’t prepare for was running into the patch of decayed floor panels, eaten away by a decade of neglect and rust. 

And now here he was, his left leg suffering the worst of the damage, gnarled and hideous, held together with staples. “Was due for my tetanus shot any... anyway...” A heavy head lulls back, falling onto the pillow when it dawns on him what he was doing in the Training Center anyway... 

Slowly, Seifer’s eyes peer over to read Cid’s eyes as best he could, licking dry lips in desperate need of ice chips. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? What are you doin’ here?” 

[youngrevolutionary]

@desorcieres​ says, “tell me how to make it better.”

“A little late to be tryin’ to make up for lost time, ain’t it?” He snaps back, still a bit bitter, seeking solace when he can seize every moment of it. In this instance, he took to stepping out onto Cid’s balcony. Desperate and in need of cooling off after one particularly heated argument between him and Cid. Ah yes, he always did cherish their lovely little talks-- and about how useless it was now to hear Cid carry on about the ‘what ifs’ and ‘if I had onlys’. 

Seifer is sick of dwelling on the past. Sick of people dwelling on the past. He’s never looked back-- never wanted to sit too long on those little imagines, those ‘what ifs.’  Even so. Questions had arisen that compelled Seifer to now stand outside on the balcony and ponder on a few things. 

But those moments to ponder would be tabled for a time when Seifer has adequate chance to brood. In private. He didn’t realize that Matron had been outside. Had she overheard this conversation with Cid--?

“You really think I can provide a simple answer for that? You can’t change fate, so there’s little else you can really give me to make things better here, Matron.” Bitter. Unnecessarily bitter. His words are spat at her as he paces, shifts his weight from heel to heel with each turn. He’s an animal trapped in his open enclosure. The freedom is there, just over the edge of the balcony but it comes at a price. The freedom is there, in the front gates of Garden but it comes at a price. The freedom is there in starting a fire and watching it all burn away but alas-- 

For every action he were to take to make his life better -- comes with its price. 

[youngrevolutionary]

@shockwavepulsar​ //  ‘just one more time before the morning comes.’

The party is ongoing, even long after the clock struck midnight. The new year celebrations had reached their peak. Now into the fourth hour past, most of the guests had either left or retired to their respective quarters. Quite a few still remained in the ballroom, determined to stay long enough to catch the first sunrise of the new year-- a tradition many a resident of Garden recognized. 

Though most had retired to the round, white-cloth, dinner tables to sip champagne and chat amongst themselves, the scattered remainder took up most of the dance floor, twirling and dancing to pre-recorded music that was provided once the octet ensemble had put away their instruments and left for the evening. 

Seifer had gravitated away from the late activities, his interests piqued in seeing the sunrise amongst his peers. Traditions, and all that. But he would not stand out on that balcony alone. No, on his way out the door, he would kidnap his former Instructor. Adding to his list of crimes for the night, he also steals a bottle of champagne, and a plate of untouched hors d'oeuvres to feast on as they await the morning. 

Of course, moments transpire, the bubbly goes straight to their head and the unlikely pair would find themselves slow dancing to the music as it plays softly inside. His coat on her bare shoulders, he keeps Quistis close with a hand anchored to the small of her back, the other idly caressing her knuckles with his thumb. 

And as much as he hates admitting it to himself, he enjoys it. Revels in the softness of her skin, the warmth that she embodies against him. Out here, in the evening, on this balcony, Seifer can press his cheek to her temple and breathe in the scent of her perfume -- exhaling and allowing himself that brief moment to just enjoy this private moment between them. 

It wouldn’t be long before these balconies would be filled with drunk and half-sleeping party goers and their time together would be this hazy memory, something trapped between lucid and dreaming. 

A new song begins and Seifer breaks away, stating how ‘he can’t.’ He can’t dance with her one more time. He has to break away, this time. They shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have obliged her when he had succumbed to the cold and made mention of stepping inside. Where it’s warm. Where the eyes that would follow Seifer’s every move would keep him from making these rash decisions. These impulsive little desires would quickly be squashed out with one glaring look from the Commander or his secondary. 

Because if he dances with her again. If he holds her body close again... he might just kiss her. And if Seifer kisses her...

But if he pulls away now, if he breaks this spell in their privacy, he would never know. Never know what her lips feel like against his. Never know how she tastes... 

Is this why he has yet to release the hold on her hand?

Damn what they’ll say. Damn what people would think if they only knew -- Seifer takes his opportunity --- closing the space between them in resolute, his actions quick -- collecting Quistis’ jaw with his free hand, angling so that their lips meet before the protest, before hesitation, before doubt and common sense come flooding in.  

[youngrevolutionary]

@roughdiivide sent an ask: “there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

“Yeah? And how you think that’s gonna pan out when I’m the one who has to ask?” He can’t ask for Xu’s help-- she’s never gonna say yes to something like this and Seifer knows it.

It’s always some big reason, some excuse, and some backward turnabout for why Seifer cannot have unsupervised access to the extranet. He’s exhausted his channels, his connections. His last resort is to ask Squall to bypass Xu but if he were to hold out for Xu, he knows better than to ask. He knows the answer will be one great, big resounding no.

He’s not ignorant of their reasons for his restrictions, but it isn’t for Garden to know the reasons that are his own.

He sighs, his shoulders sagging as he raises an arm up to rub the back of his neck, softening that commanding posture he carries so well and looks the Commander right in the eye--

Sympathy mode: on.

“Squall, please,” His voice quiets. “I--I wouldn’t ask for this if I didn’t feel it wasn’t important enough to warrant a favor like this-- this is...”

“I only need three minutes.” A knuckle taps once on the edge of Squall’s desk, “Three minutes. It’s all I’m asking.” 

[youngrevolutionary]

“  lying isn’t better than silence.  ” -thesorceressedea

“Of course, it is. We lie to ourselves and to everyone around us each day. Sometimes we do it without even thinking about it. We grow complacent in these little lies because the truth that rests in the silence can be far more terrifying than hearing the sweet relief of a lie.”

There’s nothing that will fool a person greater than the lies told to themselves to fill the silence. “Truth is, people can’t handle silence. Sometimes, all a lie is doin’ is delayin’ the inevitable. Sometimes it...” 

A thought halts his words-- only a thought. A memory. A little shard of glass depicting the little fragmented memories from a time long ago when he was just a boy climbing the walls in what he once called his ‘castle,’ his home. 

Seifer clears his throat, his voice falling soft. “Sometimes, it’s just buying time...”

[youngrevolutionary]

‘  it’s not that i really need you,  but life would be pretty boring without you around.  there’s no one i would rather be with.  ’ (with the usual deeper subtext)

Yeah. Seifer doesn’t buy it. 

“You need me the same way I need you. It’s why neither of us could ever actually kill one another.” But he’s right -- right in the sense that this arrangement with Garden would be insufferable if Seifer didn’t have someone he could genuinely address a contender in equal measure. 

At least they’re together.. but are they really equal any longer? Seifer cleans from under his nails in idle motion, as he mulls over the words, eyes watching as Squall slides on those fancy Mr. Commander pants of his. With a sharp breath-- 

“Write up a letter of recommendation. For me. For the Administration.” It’s neither request or demand. Just simply an order. His hearing is coming up in the coming weeks, Seifer has no time to dance around bringing up the topic. “It’ll come a long way if they hear from you I can be trusted.” 

‘That I can be trusted as your equal...’ 

[youngrevolutionary]

❝ if you wanna talk, i’m here. ❞

Word travels fast. It’s not even been a full half-hour since Seifer stood before the Board of Garden Administration to receive his second-year evaluation– also bringing along with him a handful of remarkably stellar letters of recommendation for SeeDship. 

Seifer did everything right. He smiled, standing with his shoulders back, displaying near-immaculate poise as he addressed each of the thirteen members of the board. He was mindful of his body language, of his charisma, his tone… 

But surprise, surprise. No number of years maintaining good behavior and being a model cog in the machine was ever going to be enough. From the moment he walked inside that conference room, he knew he had enemies. They looked at him like a parasite. Like something far beneath them. 

They all but laughed in his face when he presented his case. And when Administration took their leave, he couldn’t bring himself to move from his spot. He stood, vigilant. Replaying the events in his head as he looked upon this row of empty seats as if bodies continued to occupy them. 

How had he failed again?!

Even when Quistis made her presence known, Seifer didn’t budge. He couldn’t. Seifer’s not sure what he feels, what he wants, but he knows it’s not to talk. Not to her. Not to one of the goddamn cogs that keep this place running. Not to the woman he’s come to admire, respect– 

Why does she think she can help? They always send her. Why do they have to send her every time he needs to be talked down?! Why–?!

‘Get the hell away from me,’ are the words he wants to spit back at her. He wants to tell her to leave. That she failed him. That everyone had failed him. That he wasn’t going to stand for this. That he would rip Garden apart with his bare hands and walk upon the ashes as he burned it to the ground. Angry was the air around him. Tension so thick it could be cut with a knife and those eyes– 

Eyes filled to the brim with passion, with violence, vengeance and searing wrath in kind. He could kill with just one sharp look if Quistis were made of lesser stuff.

Maybe that’s why they always send her. She, so impervious to Seifer’s hellfire.   

But wordlessly, he rises up from his seat, he places those few paces in short order to create that distance–no, Quistis. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to share his feelings or his thoughts with anyone here. Not anymore… 

“It’s why you’re here, ain’t it? It’s not to ‘talk,’ it’s because they sent you here to make sure I don’t do anything stupid, is that it?!” An accusation. He’s dangerous, and Quistis stands in his line of fire. He breaks that eye contact long enough to shake his head, the pace of his steps frantic. He’s a ticking timebomb, temper building in that rise of pressure, ready to explode– 

[youngrevolutionary]

‘It took me a while to realize it myself, but you are not what other people say you are.’

How like the cold bastard Seifer knows himself to be, that he doesn’t even pay the respect of looking her in the eye when he turns his head back toward her. He sees her fine from his periphery.   

And he sees that romanticism coming from a mile away. Too close. Much too close for his comfort. 

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m exactly what other people say I am.”

[youngrevolutionary]

“  i’m coming to terms with a broken heart.  ” -corditeheart/Rinoa

@corditeheart

“You should be thankful that all you’ve got is a broken heart. You might think that’s all you have but you don’t have a broken life. You can still make something of yourself. You have more people around you than ever before.” He’s not even thinking of how his words would be interpreted, or how he was the one to break Rinoa’s heart in the first place. 

Or perhaps he had -- those eyes when he looks at her, there’s an underlying truth that lets slip. Guilt, remorse... it’s all there in that cold stare, in the way his voice softens only just so slight--- 

“Be thankful you’re not left with nothing. It makes it so much harder to come back from that.“

[youngrevolutionary]

“ some of us can see our cages ”

There’s a scoff that opens way for Seifer’s terse and bitter words. “You really think that’s any better? Having these walls be a constant reminder how you’re never gonna leave? Never gonna be free of the system?”

[youngrevolutionary]

The power cuts out. Distantly, lightning. And as Seifer stills in response, whether it is for only a split second or longer, she appears like a phantom, purple smile splitting mangled face, claws sharp and sliding up the muscles of his back. Hello, you pathetik mongrel, I hope you missed me.

It is bound to become a turbulent Spring if the storms are rolling through Balamb this early in the year. He’s sure that he’s read something recently about there being a shift in weather patterns but who can really trust the news these days, anyway...

All the same, the power cuts out, and Seifer's smooth motion of dragging his straight razor against the grain of stubble along his neck is immediately halted-- eyes blinking as he holds it away from his face and steps just outside the bathroom to check the breaker. Flipping a couple switches does absolutely nothing, so he's resigned to use his phone in the meantime.

He checks for any new alerts, razor still in hand. Nothing yet, so he finishes up his routine, dipping the blade into the water before he holds it up against his neck once more.

One swipe, two--

And he wipes the blade, tapping his phone to leave it on as he goes in for another sweep. One swipe, two--

Seifer wipes the blade. A flash of lightning illuminated the wall behind him. Briefly, he sees his shower, the toiletry door, closed. One swipe-- two.

Another flash, but Seifer isn’t alone this time. There is a shadow that he sees behind him. Black and imposing. 

Seifer waits, frozen. The room is completely swallowed in darkness as his phone dims and shuts off. There's the flutter of rustling feathers that just softly kiss against his ears-- those claws, that inch and creep upwards, no, no...

But it is the voice that causes Seifer to nearly leap out of his skin. 'Pathetik mongrel,' and he feels the blade begin to slice--

Another flash and Seifer catches sight of that bone-chilling golden hue. The mutilated aspect standing behind him and he turns, blade in hand-- slashing her throat or--

No throat. No shade. No claws or wings... no witch.

There isn't anything there at all, and yet--

The cut isn't deep, but blood trickles down his chest in tiny little rivers as he stands there Seifer, trembling from shock. His hand grips that straight-razor in an iron grip as he stands there, waiting...

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he's seeing... something... something that wasn't there before... something against his bathroom toiletry door, expanding... like wings--

The lights would kick on just as Seifer was moving to strike... and what he would come to find would be a towel hung on a hook to dry. A towel. Not a witch. Not wings. It was just nothing.

He turns back, gazing at his reflection in the mirror-- pale and gaunt, sweat on his brow and blood spreading down his abdomen. Hands quickly turn on a faucet as he wipes away the red, bringing a washcloth to his throat to stop the bleeding.

It wasn't real. It wasn't her, Seifer tells himself. But what he tells himself differs from the truth entirely; for when he turns to reach for his clean shirt, he sees the proof of her presence there written into his back.

Literally.

Thin, spindly red lines left their lasting mark-- and Seifer is immediately throwing on clothes to make his way to... fuck. He doesn’t even know. There’s a violent storm battering the hell out of Garden and his mind is deciding that now is the perfect time to have a psychotic break. 

[youngrevolutionary]

"How are you holding up, Seifer? Is the new year treating you well so far?"

Seifer was topping off his cup of coffee in the cafeteria when he heard the voice behind him. “Ugh,” He groans out, grabbing two little red straws from the opened box next to the disposable cups and turns around. The look in his eyes would give away that he’s got a story.

“Take it you heard about the journalist that was caught tryin’ to get photos of Rinoa?” He takes a cautious sip without the lid — trying not to spill any down the front of his crisp, white shirt. “We suspect it’s the same twat who’s been tryin’ to hack into the database...

Now they’re thinkin’ about movin’ her offsite because apparently, the photos prove that she’s wandering around a mercenary organization without documented supervision. Neat, huh?”

He takes another sip with a bit of sass, “Truly astonishing what a war criminal can find out when someone sets their password to ‘password.’”

[youngrevolutionary]

@fragmentkeeper​

Anyone ever see Seifer when he's stupid giddy excited over someone? Well, you're about to--

"Oh, don't tell me you came all this way for my birthday--" Stop grinning like that, Seifer, you look like an idiot. He opens up his arms -- a far cry from the first time they had been reacquainted. "It's so good to see you, Ellone."

[youngrevolutionary]

@roughdiivide x

“Last time we were in in an interrogation room at the same time, you had a cattle prod to my guts.”

No weapons on them now, though; not that they’ve ever been necessary for a couple of Garden’s finest. They’re also not in the middle of a war, just scanning the room for non-compliant bugs.

Tedious work, but necessary in a job like theirs. He runs his scanner over the far wall, and comes up clean.

“’Scuse me for being a little wary.”

... Right.

"That was my plan all along," Seifer pulls a stool over to stand on, giving him enough height to lift the ceiling tiles to visually check for any suspicious devices. "My plan was to anonymously report suspected bugs in the Garden system so this way you and I could come in and check every single room."

All clear on this end, now onto the other side.

"Then, I was going to isolate you from the other operatives, like I have, and proceed to waterboard you in the next room over-- 

You know. For old times sake.”

[youngrevolutionary]

@themageofmany liked for a starter!

He's never seen her before, not even sure if she's either a SeeD or an Operative, but Skylar did just catch Seifer in the act of stealing a case of prototype weapons from Garden's research facility.

The Lieutenant tries to shrug it off, a small smile playing on his lips-- "See? Not even that hard to commit a felony in place."