nightmares and dreamscapes (closed rp): Seifer, Quistis, Squall, Zell, Ultimecia

Seifer stands in front of the door to the empty dorm room and has to appreciate the joke, because he’d recognize that number anywhere. 

"At least Leonhart’s got a sense of humor," he murmurs to Quistis, even as his grip on her hand tightens just a fraction. It’s his old dorm that this will take place in. 

Quistis keys in a code. The door slides open. Before he can turn and run screaming in the opposite direction, Seifer steps across the threshold. The door hums closed behind them, and there is the distinct sound of the lock being engaged. 

He is trapped. There’s no going back from this now. 

Ellone gets up from the stool she’s seated on at the small counter, and waves at him tentatively. He nods. It seems like a safe enough bet, considering this is the person who’s going to shove Leonhart into his consciousness to hunt down Ultimecia. 

The idea of Leonhart rummaging around in his brain is still just as unappealing as the second it was suggested, but Seifer has to do this. He has to. Ultimecia is there, still, fluttering around at the edges, and if something isn’t done—

"Almasy," Leonhart greets him, his expression neutral, unreadable. 

"Leonhart," he replies. The old dance is done, the acknowledgement, the retort. "You ready for this?" 

"We’re taking as many precautions as possible." 

"Great. Precautions. Perfect." Sarcasm is a defense against fear, or a manifestation of it. He cannot remember anymore. 

They move from the front room into the bedroom, where the bed is made up crisply with the usual uniform of gray sheets and white pillow. It is almost exactly how he remembers it, except there are monitors, equipment liberated from the infirmary, no doubt. There’s an IV drip waiting, and…

"Is that a defibrillator?" he asks out loud, and wonders how the hell bad this is going to get. 

Seifer sits, warily, on the edge of the bed, feeling more and more like a caged animal every second he’s in here. Quistis is within arm’s reach, still; he reaches out and snags her hand, tugging her toward him. 

"It’s not too late," he jokes, forcing the humor into his voice, "to kick these jerks out and put this bed to better use, you know?" 

posted June 21st with 11 notes -

  1. firaequis reblogged this from differentxbeat and added:
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  2. lionseed reblogged this from shockwavexpulsar-memories and added:
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  3. shockwavexpulsar-memories reblogged this from firaequis and added:
    Quistis pensively tapped her fingers against her lips, her brows furrowed and eyes concentrated on the two unconscious...