[ Time. The span of it, the length of it, the ever-winding tick-tock of it, is a gnawing thing. After surviving Time Compression, Squall thinks he might be sick from it the way a child can get sick off of too much candy. He's aware of its circular nature now. Time is not a flat line to race across, it is a wheel that once set into motion will rotate towards infinity, driven ever onwards by an unavoidable series of events.
He's never been one to believe in Fate so it's hard to come to terms with the fact that he sealed his own the second he told Matron about SeeD. A pre-determined life that affected not just himself, but every other member of their little orphanage gang. He did this to them and it's a shameful secret he's kept lodged in the back of his throat ever since Rinoa pulled him out of Time Compression.
Sometimes he goes into cold sweats thinking he's still trapped. Experiencing his life as it would one day be but not really living it. It's a miserable form of PTSD. He would much rather flinch at fireworks than be terrified of silence.
There are records that play in his office now whenever he's alone. It helps him keep track of Time. Time, proper noun. Like it's its own entity. A phantasmal force he's haunted by. The scratch of the record player and the crooning of instruments allows him to feel the flow of time moving forward. It's rare to find him sitting in complete silence these days, but as the SeeD Commander no one gives him too much trouble about that. ]
SeeD Nida. You're in uniform.
[ His gaze cuts from the paperwork in front of him to the figure of Nida standing in his office. He keeps track of everyone's Time. It's oddly cathartic to chart progress in days and hours, weeks, and years. Nida hasn't even been gone long enough to consider the latter two. He sighs before rising from his desk and giving a half measured salute so that Nida can be at ease. ]
And on Garden property.
[ The look he fixes Nida with is a withering one. It's the look that usually has people obeying his orders the first time around. A year and a half of being a full time Commander has allowed him to settle into his position with all the grace of a jungle cat in a circus. He knows which hoops to jump through and how to avoid the whip crack, but there's still danger in the way he moves, even when doing something as innocuous as turning down a record player. ]
If I ask you why or to report in, I'll be violating your vacation ordinance so let's skip the small talk so you can volunteer that information instead.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ninetydegrees
Look at himmmmm, a bebe
on 2024-11-10 05:33 am (UTC)He's never been one to believe in Fate so it's hard to come to terms with the fact that he sealed his own the second he told Matron about SeeD. A pre-determined life that affected not just himself, but every other member of their little orphanage gang. He did this to them and it's a shameful secret he's kept lodged in the back of his throat ever since Rinoa pulled him out of Time Compression.
Sometimes he goes into cold sweats thinking he's still trapped. Experiencing his life as it would one day be but not really living it. It's a miserable form of PTSD. He would much rather flinch at fireworks than be terrified of silence.
There are records that play in his office now whenever he's alone. It helps him keep track of Time. Time, proper noun. Like it's its own entity. A phantasmal force he's haunted by. The scratch of the record player and the crooning of instruments allows him to feel the flow of time moving forward. It's rare to find him sitting in complete silence these days, but as the SeeD Commander no one gives him too much trouble about that. ]
SeeD Nida. You're in uniform.
[ His gaze cuts from the paperwork in front of him to the figure of Nida standing in his office. He keeps track of everyone's Time. It's oddly cathartic to chart progress in days and hours, weeks, and years. Nida hasn't even been gone long enough to consider the latter two. He sighs before rising from his desk and giving a half measured salute so that Nida can be at ease. ]
And on Garden property.
[ The look he fixes Nida with is a withering one. It's the look that usually has people obeying his orders the first time around. A year and a half of being a full time Commander has allowed him to settle into his position with all the grace of a jungle cat in a circus. He knows which hoops to jump through and how to avoid the whip crack, but there's still danger in the way he moves, even when doing something as innocuous as turning down a record player. ]
If I ask you why or to report in, I'll be violating your vacation ordinance so let's skip the small talk so you can volunteer that information instead.