Squall isn't prepared. He'd known to some degree that there would be changes in both of them, that the war will have left its mark in different ways, but Squall isn't prepared for the brutality mapped across Seifer's back. It stops him in his tracks, the force of it sloshing a bit of water onto the floor from the extra buckets he's hauled in.
There is a hot, primal rage that roars silently through him and he knows it comes from Ifrit as much as it does himself. Like he'd smash through a city to protect you.
"Seifer."
His own dealings with the sorceress have left a mark carved into him, showing where he's been speared through with ice, but that had been achieved through the heat of battle. What he's looking at now as he sets the buckets down and approaches is abhorrent in its methodical nature. These are marks meant to hurt for the sake of hurting.
He can't touch. That's too intimate. It's too...familiar. But his hand outstretches for just a moment with the impulse. "Her work or someone else's?" He needs to know who to direct his fury and the way he almost visibly shakes with it. Maybe it's a symptom of their fucked up training, but he'd always been offended by Seifer's means of interrogation. They'd been so impersonal, like Squall hadn't been worth the effort. Garden had taught them more effective ways of extracting information than electrocution. He'd thought it was a symptom of Seifer being under the sorceress' influence but maybe he'd just been sparing him the worst of what she was capable of.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2024-11-11 07:58 pm (UTC)There is a hot, primal rage that roars silently through him and he knows it comes from Ifrit as much as it does himself. Like he'd smash through a city to protect you.
"Seifer."
His own dealings with the sorceress have left a mark carved into him, showing where he's been speared through with ice, but that had been achieved through the heat of battle. What he's looking at now as he sets the buckets down and approaches is abhorrent in its methodical nature. These are marks meant to hurt for the sake of hurting.
He can't touch. That's too intimate. It's too...familiar. But his hand outstretches for just a moment with the impulse. "Her work or someone else's?" He needs to know who to direct his fury and the way he almost visibly shakes with it. Maybe it's a symptom of their fucked up training, but he'd always been offended by Seifer's means of interrogation. They'd been so impersonal, like Squall hadn't been worth the effort. Garden had taught them more effective ways of extracting information than electrocution. He'd thought it was a symptom of Seifer being under the sorceress' influence but maybe he'd just been sparing him the worst of what she was capable of.