Final Fantasy 8, Squall Leonheart, Manmower - Motorpsycho
Author: Wolfchildblazer
Title of work: Shards of Apathy
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Final Fantasy 8
Character: Squall Leonheart
Song and Artist: ManMower by Motorpsycho
Song Number: # 4
Disclaimer: I do not own the song, the game, or the character contain within, nor am I receiving any proceeds from this written piece.
Summary : Humans are naturally blinded by emotions, soldiers are not allowed to be. To save himself he locked away such things as emotions, now he was empty.
Shards of Apathy
It wouldn’t work,
It’s getting stronger
Squall turned his head, at seven, and all ready knowing that this path in life would be difficult. His sister figure had left, two years ago, and he couldn’t phantom his promises of childhood. Grey-blue eyes twisted to slate, and his heart slowed under the ice of broken thoughts. Sometimes, he just wanted to laugh, just to know that he still knew how, he wanted to be a kid.
Tossing back his chocolate locks to glance skyward, he wanted to scream. The weight of his decision was pushing down on him and he wanted to buckle, but his growing apathetic soul wouldn’t let him. Seven, he was just seven, but his soul was already closing off from humanity and its gifts.
Can’t be controlled any longer
There’s only guilt,
There is no feeling of beauty left
"Squall, smile." His instructor urged, trying to get a good picture to place in his files. "Future clients will see this picture." She added. Squall glanced over, his deaden eyes scrutinizing the reasoning. Then he shook his head and gazed back to the frowning photographer.
"Whatever." He muttered, straightening one sleeve. Quistis shook her head, he look too serious for his age. Any childlike gleam was long since gone, and for a moment she turned away sadly. Squall caught it, just like every time before, and for a moment he wanted to apologize.
His mind wouldn’t let him, and his heart did not put up much of a fight in return. So, he just stared coldly forward, he wouldn’t let them see inward. His eyes shone like reflective mirrors, only returning their own reflections. On accident his eyes fell on the calender and he merely slid his eyes away. He was turning eighteen soon, almost a true adult in everyone’s view. However, he would be a SeeD before then, and that signifies him as an adult even if his age does not.
What was so free is getting locked up
emotion-motion is dead stopped
‘Stop, swing, lunge, and serrate.’ He repeated monotonously as he beheaded another life-like dummy. True the dummy looked like none he knew, but he could imagine anyone upon it without a twitch. Right now, the face he needed was some fat, rich, greedy, corrupted politician. Squall didn’t flinch or sigh, he merely glanced at the mission folder.
The politician in question had insulted some other, more powerful politician. That politician want recompense, and so called for the injury of the other politician, though death wasn’t out of the question. These training mission normally broke a lot of trainees, but they had to learn to go on. Squall merely holstered his gunblade, and walked deeper into the training area. He needed to slay a few monsters to level up his guardian force for the travel.
Some force of emotion should have showed on his face, when he read the part of the file that said the politician had a newborn baby and a wife. Yet, it didn’t, he didn’t draw any lines about how the baby’s life would be similar to his if he killed the man. At least the order was to injure the man, but again death wasn’t out of the question. It all depended on Squall and the man he was sent to subdue.
There’s just remorse
There is no hunger, no craving left
Squall raised his gunblade, looking absently at the blood staining it. "Young man, please stop this." The politician pleaded, holding a cut cheek. He felt no bile, or wanting for this kind of action. Mechanical, it was all mechanical, every action he took. His mind was empty of thoughts and actions, but his eyes tracked the sliver of blood. The man was injured, technically his mission was complete. Raising his gunblade in a defensive position, he used his free hand to fish out a manilla envelope.
Glancing at the cowering man only once, he dropped the envelope in the man’s lap. Then he just stood there for a few minutes watching the man’s reaction to whatever was in the envelope. Though Squall knew it must have contain some type of warning.
But I see what you mean
I wish I was 16
"Headmaster, these practices must stop!" Squall heard as he approached the headmaster’s office. "We are not monsters, we are not machines, you’re breaking these children."Was added, and Squall rounded to the doorway. Quistis was crying silently now as he began to enter.
"I know, Quistis, I know." The Headmaster whispered tiredly. Squall knocked lightly against the grained wood of the door, social courtesy dictating it. The voices immediately hushed and the pair turned to him in respect.
"SeeD Trainee, Squall Leonheart, ID # ******, reporting mission complete." He spoke in a recorded motion. "Successful in injuring Senator Declive." Squall added while placing his mission folder upon the desk of the headmaster.
"Injury, no death?" Quistis asked hopefully.
"Injury." Squall answered. "Details are in my report." and with that he left. Though for a moment, he wanted to wonder if the conversation heard before would be brought to practice.
"Squall." His instructor called from behind, and he stopped for his superior. Almost lazily he gazed at her, no questioning movements were observed from him. "Thank you for letting that man live." She stated. Quistis reached forward and laid a warm hand on his arm with a smile.
"Whatever." He gave her and walked away. Never acknowledging the warm hand that had laid upon him moments ago.
I’m not there, only choking
It shuts down when I’m toking
on the air, the musty odors of yesterday
A tan hand rested on one of the only two photos he had in his possession. One was a group of kids, a set of six, giving various facial expressions to the camera. Squall moved a finger over his younger self, though not smiling, you could see pain in the young orbs. He couldn’t remember when this picture was taken, or whom was in the picture with him. Though three of the children vastly resembled people he knew.
The young girl, her orange-yellow hair pulled up high and tight. Sharp blue eyes sparkling with intelligence and wisdom, well, as much as a seven year old can have. She looked and reminded him of his instructor Quistis Trepe. Then he studied the other two, both boys, and both with shades of blond hair. One though, had dark blond hair that laid flat, and eyes that shaded eerily similar to his own. This one reminded him of Seifer Almasy. The other, had light blond hair that spike upwards in front, and a roguish grin with sparkling blue eyes. That boy reminded him of Zell Dincht.
Though, he did not grow up with these people, the memories are not there to prove such a thing. Then he laid the picture down, and began to leave, not even bothering with the other picture. Dust coating its surface obscuring the image contained within. Though for a moment he paused beside said picture as if pondering something. One hand hovering above it, almost like he thought to grab it. Seconds later he continued leaving his room, the picture resting face down, dust still covering it.
Only numb, growing colder
Don’t need heat to make this solder
Feels like I’m rusting from this apathetic decay
but I know how it feels underneath those heels
Squall looked up in cold apathy at the dancing students that graduated to SeeD, himself among them. Still, so reserved, he leaned against a pillar, watching, observing...
Laughter entered his ears, but he did not turn to look. He cared not what would cause someone to break out in unbridled joy. Those words, those emotions were foreign, only seventeen and yet, so old in mind and soul.
A flash of white danced into his empty eyesight, like a breath of fresh air. Said flash revealed a young woman whose eyes sparkled with life, and she was currently looking toward him. Squall merely tilted his head to alleviate a tense muscle in his neck, but she took it as an invitation to come over. When he let his gaze slide back down, she was there smiling prettily.
"Dance?" Was the gist of her conversation, and without warning she drugged him out onto the dance floor. For a few minutes he attempted to act like he knew not how to dance in order for her to leave him be. That plan did not work and so he dance like he had been trained. His mouth spouting out some useless facts just to entertain her attention. Fireworks went off, and she spotted whoever she had been looking for earlier. She left him standing on the dance floor with nothing, not even a goodbye.
That however, didn’t bother him, because he could tie nothing to her. No emotion of pain at her dismissal, no emotion of anger at her slight, and no emotion of sadness at her blatant disregard. For the things called emotions never served him well, and would not as a mercenary soldier. Though that didn’t mean he forgot how it once felt, it just means he no longer does.
Now I’ve got nothing more to say
and I got burned on the way
Squall turned from the scene of the happily reunited couple. His heart stinging immensely from the melted frost. Rinoa had made sure he would learn how to feel again. Everything, she made sure he would remember every single emotional feeling. His frost burned away by her fiery passion and emotion.
However, she was never his, and never will be in truth. That was Seifer’s title. Though, it did bug him, how quick she switch from one to the other. Her sense of loyalty was tragic at best, and she couldn’t stay faithful when Seifer abandon his sense of self. She had latched onto Squall with all desperation. Still, he offered nothing, instead choosing to fade into the background. The hero that saved the world, the frozen mercenary, fading back into his comfortable niche.
It was just so much easier that way, to feel nothing..
You drugged me, fed me
Took me wherever you’d go
you swallowed me whole
Rinoa, the word and person was taboo around him. Even as his apathy returned, sweltering around him, and enveloping him. Untouchable Leonheart, Unreachable Squall, his mantle, his legend. Squall Leonheart, the man-made apathetic legend of a hero.
Title of work: Shards of Apathy
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Final Fantasy 8
Character: Squall Leonheart
Song and Artist: ManMower by Motorpsycho
Song Number: # 4
Disclaimer: I do not own the song, the game, or the character contain within, nor am I receiving any proceeds from this written piece.
Summary : Humans are naturally blinded by emotions, soldiers are not allowed to be. To save himself he locked away such things as emotions, now he was empty.
Shards of Apathy
It wouldn’t work,
It’s getting stronger
Squall turned his head, at seven, and all ready knowing that this path in life would be difficult. His sister figure had left, two years ago, and he couldn’t phantom his promises of childhood. Grey-blue eyes twisted to slate, and his heart slowed under the ice of broken thoughts. Sometimes, he just wanted to laugh, just to know that he still knew how, he wanted to be a kid.
Tossing back his chocolate locks to glance skyward, he wanted to scream. The weight of his decision was pushing down on him and he wanted to buckle, but his growing apathetic soul wouldn’t let him. Seven, he was just seven, but his soul was already closing off from humanity and its gifts.
Can’t be controlled any longer
There’s only guilt,
There is no feeling of beauty left
"Squall, smile." His instructor urged, trying to get a good picture to place in his files. "Future clients will see this picture." She added. Squall glanced over, his deaden eyes scrutinizing the reasoning. Then he shook his head and gazed back to the frowning photographer.
"Whatever." He muttered, straightening one sleeve. Quistis shook her head, he look too serious for his age. Any childlike gleam was long since gone, and for a moment she turned away sadly. Squall caught it, just like every time before, and for a moment he wanted to apologize.
His mind wouldn’t let him, and his heart did not put up much of a fight in return. So, he just stared coldly forward, he wouldn’t let them see inward. His eyes shone like reflective mirrors, only returning their own reflections. On accident his eyes fell on the calender and he merely slid his eyes away. He was turning eighteen soon, almost a true adult in everyone’s view. However, he would be a SeeD before then, and that signifies him as an adult even if his age does not.
What was so free is getting locked up
emotion-motion is dead stopped
‘Stop, swing, lunge, and serrate.’ He repeated monotonously as he beheaded another life-like dummy. True the dummy looked like none he knew, but he could imagine anyone upon it without a twitch. Right now, the face he needed was some fat, rich, greedy, corrupted politician. Squall didn’t flinch or sigh, he merely glanced at the mission folder.
The politician in question had insulted some other, more powerful politician. That politician want recompense, and so called for the injury of the other politician, though death wasn’t out of the question. These training mission normally broke a lot of trainees, but they had to learn to go on. Squall merely holstered his gunblade, and walked deeper into the training area. He needed to slay a few monsters to level up his guardian force for the travel.
Some force of emotion should have showed on his face, when he read the part of the file that said the politician had a newborn baby and a wife. Yet, it didn’t, he didn’t draw any lines about how the baby’s life would be similar to his if he killed the man. At least the order was to injure the man, but again death wasn’t out of the question. It all depended on Squall and the man he was sent to subdue.
There’s just remorse
There is no hunger, no craving left
Squall raised his gunblade, looking absently at the blood staining it. "Young man, please stop this." The politician pleaded, holding a cut cheek. He felt no bile, or wanting for this kind of action. Mechanical, it was all mechanical, every action he took. His mind was empty of thoughts and actions, but his eyes tracked the sliver of blood. The man was injured, technically his mission was complete. Raising his gunblade in a defensive position, he used his free hand to fish out a manilla envelope.
Glancing at the cowering man only once, he dropped the envelope in the man’s lap. Then he just stood there for a few minutes watching the man’s reaction to whatever was in the envelope. Though Squall knew it must have contain some type of warning.
But I see what you mean
I wish I was 16
"Headmaster, these practices must stop!" Squall heard as he approached the headmaster’s office. "We are not monsters, we are not machines, you’re breaking these children."Was added, and Squall rounded to the doorway. Quistis was crying silently now as he began to enter.
"I know, Quistis, I know." The Headmaster whispered tiredly. Squall knocked lightly against the grained wood of the door, social courtesy dictating it. The voices immediately hushed and the pair turned to him in respect.
"SeeD Trainee, Squall Leonheart, ID # ******, reporting mission complete." He spoke in a recorded motion. "Successful in injuring Senator Declive." Squall added while placing his mission folder upon the desk of the headmaster.
"Injury, no death?" Quistis asked hopefully.
"Injury." Squall answered. "Details are in my report." and with that he left. Though for a moment, he wanted to wonder if the conversation heard before would be brought to practice.
"Squall." His instructor called from behind, and he stopped for his superior. Almost lazily he gazed at her, no questioning movements were observed from him. "Thank you for letting that man live." She stated. Quistis reached forward and laid a warm hand on his arm with a smile.
"Whatever." He gave her and walked away. Never acknowledging the warm hand that had laid upon him moments ago.
I’m not there, only choking
It shuts down when I’m toking
on the air, the musty odors of yesterday
A tan hand rested on one of the only two photos he had in his possession. One was a group of kids, a set of six, giving various facial expressions to the camera. Squall moved a finger over his younger self, though not smiling, you could see pain in the young orbs. He couldn’t remember when this picture was taken, or whom was in the picture with him. Though three of the children vastly resembled people he knew.
The young girl, her orange-yellow hair pulled up high and tight. Sharp blue eyes sparkling with intelligence and wisdom, well, as much as a seven year old can have. She looked and reminded him of his instructor Quistis Trepe. Then he studied the other two, both boys, and both with shades of blond hair. One though, had dark blond hair that laid flat, and eyes that shaded eerily similar to his own. This one reminded him of Seifer Almasy. The other, had light blond hair that spike upwards in front, and a roguish grin with sparkling blue eyes. That boy reminded him of Zell Dincht.
Though, he did not grow up with these people, the memories are not there to prove such a thing. Then he laid the picture down, and began to leave, not even bothering with the other picture. Dust coating its surface obscuring the image contained within. Though for a moment he paused beside said picture as if pondering something. One hand hovering above it, almost like he thought to grab it. Seconds later he continued leaving his room, the picture resting face down, dust still covering it.
Only numb, growing colder
Don’t need heat to make this solder
Feels like I’m rusting from this apathetic decay
but I know how it feels underneath those heels
Squall looked up in cold apathy at the dancing students that graduated to SeeD, himself among them. Still, so reserved, he leaned against a pillar, watching, observing...
Laughter entered his ears, but he did not turn to look. He cared not what would cause someone to break out in unbridled joy. Those words, those emotions were foreign, only seventeen and yet, so old in mind and soul.
A flash of white danced into his empty eyesight, like a breath of fresh air. Said flash revealed a young woman whose eyes sparkled with life, and she was currently looking toward him. Squall merely tilted his head to alleviate a tense muscle in his neck, but she took it as an invitation to come over. When he let his gaze slide back down, she was there smiling prettily.
"Dance?" Was the gist of her conversation, and without warning she drugged him out onto the dance floor. For a few minutes he attempted to act like he knew not how to dance in order for her to leave him be. That plan did not work and so he dance like he had been trained. His mouth spouting out some useless facts just to entertain her attention. Fireworks went off, and she spotted whoever she had been looking for earlier. She left him standing on the dance floor with nothing, not even a goodbye.
That however, didn’t bother him, because he could tie nothing to her. No emotion of pain at her dismissal, no emotion of anger at her slight, and no emotion of sadness at her blatant disregard. For the things called emotions never served him well, and would not as a mercenary soldier. Though that didn’t mean he forgot how it once felt, it just means he no longer does.
Now I’ve got nothing more to say
and I got burned on the way
Squall turned from the scene of the happily reunited couple. His heart stinging immensely from the melted frost. Rinoa had made sure he would learn how to feel again. Everything, she made sure he would remember every single emotional feeling. His frost burned away by her fiery passion and emotion.
However, she was never his, and never will be in truth. That was Seifer’s title. Though, it did bug him, how quick she switch from one to the other. Her sense of loyalty was tragic at best, and she couldn’t stay faithful when Seifer abandon his sense of self. She had latched onto Squall with all desperation. Still, he offered nothing, instead choosing to fade into the background. The hero that saved the world, the frozen mercenary, fading back into his comfortable niche.
It was just so much easier that way, to feel nothing..
You drugged me, fed me
Took me wherever you’d go
you swallowed me whole
Rinoa, the word and person was taboo around him. Even as his apathy returned, sweltering around him, and enveloping him. Untouchable Leonheart, Unreachable Squall, his mantle, his legend. Squall Leonheart, the man-made apathetic legend of a hero.