Fic: 15 minute Writing Exercise
He failed them, all of them. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why but he did. The feeling of failure, the bitter taste of defeat, filled his mouth. Squall hated it. He despised it but what choice did he have. What reason could he give on explaining why he failed, why he wasn’t there. Why he couldn’t be with them, any of them.
They fought without him. By themselves, alone. He was supposed to be there, he was supposed to fight alongside them all but he wasn’t. He was somewhere else, fighting a fight that wasn’t his. He should have tried harder, he should have came home sooner.
Instead, he came home to this.
Desolation.
His world was desolate and dead. Destroyed. Nothing was left; it was far from what he remembered. It held no semblance to the memories he still had of his world, the memories he regained as he fought through each Cycle of the Conflict. No, this world was different, strange. It was a world where he failed, where everything was gone. Nothing remained.
He should have arrived sooner except he couldn’t.
Ultimecia, that witch; that goddamn witch. She was behind this. She had to be but he killed her didn’t he? He killed her with his own sword, heard her screams as his blade cut through her. Her blood stained his gunblade and his clothes. She stained his entire soul with her mockery and games, with her victories and final death. She should have been gone, vanquished but everything around him. Absolutely everything around him screamed that she was behind this.
Damn that sorceress; damn that witch. He should have killed her sooner, should have just killed her while he had the chance. Immediately after he found his crystal, he should have stalked after her instead of trying to find his other friends, saving them with words rather than his blade from their momentary despair.
Except what kind of man would he be if he just let them all to die? If he let them be and allowed them to fall to darkness, he would be a far lesser man than he was now but that didn’t save his world. That didn’t stop Ultimecia from gaining free reign of his homeland. Destruction surrounded him.
His beloved home merely piles of debris in a barren wasteland. He knew this place, he dreamed of this place before. The godforsaken island. It was an almost mirror image of that goddamn island, that Hyne-be-damned island where he spent his last memories before being summoned to that Conflict, summoned to fight for a Goddess’s whim and for the hope of her finally being able to smile. Not that he cared much about the latter.
He only wanted to go home. He only wanted to go back, to return to his loved ones, and he did.
He never expected it would be like this. He never expected his home to end up like this the moment he found himself in a field of flowers that wasn’t on some other world’s landscape but his own. Everywhere he looked, it was chaos and debris. Bodies littered the ground around him, some with limbs and others without.
Most were headless, some were without arms. Some without legs or hands, some without a torso or head. This was not the world he wanted to come back to. It was not his home but it was, he knew it was from the smell of the air to the sound of the sea. He was home but this was far from his beloved home.
Gone, all of it was gone. Her fault, his fault. Everyone’s fault. His fault alone. He should have come back. He should have arrived sooner, if he had the chance but he didn’t, didn’t he? He had no reason to believe that he was coming home to a world that was destroyed, to a war that had already been lost.
His friends, his friends were dead and gone. He found their bodies already on the steps of his beloved destroyed home, his Garden. Balamb Garden. He found her with her tattered blue robes, he found her with her silver ring and necklace. He found her without her eyes, without her tongue. She was gone, dead and killed. Murdered with a gunblade through her heart.
He wanted to scream.
Instead, he drove the sword out of her chest and brought it to his own. He could die now, die and be with her but then where would he be? Where would he go? Nowhere. He didn’t deserve to live but he wasn’t worthy of dying. Not yet.
She was out there, the Witch. Ultimecia. She had to be around, somewhere. He would find her, he would seek her out. Kill her, he would destroy her completely. This time. He would make sure of it. Even if it took his dying breath, he would end it.
Once and for all.
Notes: ...If you see this entry and are using a character journal for Route_29, please defriend this journal. Thank you.
They fought without him. By themselves, alone. He was supposed to be there, he was supposed to fight alongside them all but he wasn’t. He was somewhere else, fighting a fight that wasn’t his. He should have tried harder, he should have came home sooner.
Instead, he came home to this.
Desolation.
His world was desolate and dead. Destroyed. Nothing was left; it was far from what he remembered. It held no semblance to the memories he still had of his world, the memories he regained as he fought through each Cycle of the Conflict. No, this world was different, strange. It was a world where he failed, where everything was gone. Nothing remained.
He should have arrived sooner except he couldn’t.
Ultimecia, that witch; that goddamn witch. She was behind this. She had to be but he killed her didn’t he? He killed her with his own sword, heard her screams as his blade cut through her. Her blood stained his gunblade and his clothes. She stained his entire soul with her mockery and games, with her victories and final death. She should have been gone, vanquished but everything around him. Absolutely everything around him screamed that she was behind this.
Damn that sorceress; damn that witch. He should have killed her sooner, should have just killed her while he had the chance. Immediately after he found his crystal, he should have stalked after her instead of trying to find his other friends, saving them with words rather than his blade from their momentary despair.
Except what kind of man would he be if he just let them all to die? If he let them be and allowed them to fall to darkness, he would be a far lesser man than he was now but that didn’t save his world. That didn’t stop Ultimecia from gaining free reign of his homeland. Destruction surrounded him.
His beloved home merely piles of debris in a barren wasteland. He knew this place, he dreamed of this place before. The godforsaken island. It was an almost mirror image of that goddamn island, that Hyne-be-damned island where he spent his last memories before being summoned to that Conflict, summoned to fight for a Goddess’s whim and for the hope of her finally being able to smile. Not that he cared much about the latter.
He only wanted to go home. He only wanted to go back, to return to his loved ones, and he did.
He never expected it would be like this. He never expected his home to end up like this the moment he found himself in a field of flowers that wasn’t on some other world’s landscape but his own. Everywhere he looked, it was chaos and debris. Bodies littered the ground around him, some with limbs and others without.
Most were headless, some were without arms. Some without legs or hands, some without a torso or head. This was not the world he wanted to come back to. It was not his home but it was, he knew it was from the smell of the air to the sound of the sea. He was home but this was far from his beloved home.
Gone, all of it was gone. Her fault, his fault. Everyone’s fault. His fault alone. He should have come back. He should have arrived sooner, if he had the chance but he didn’t, didn’t he? He had no reason to believe that he was coming home to a world that was destroyed, to a war that had already been lost.
His friends, his friends were dead and gone. He found their bodies already on the steps of his beloved destroyed home, his Garden. Balamb Garden. He found her with her tattered blue robes, he found her with her silver ring and necklace. He found her without her eyes, without her tongue. She was gone, dead and killed. Murdered with a gunblade through her heart.
He wanted to scream.
Instead, he drove the sword out of her chest and brought it to his own. He could die now, die and be with her but then where would he be? Where would he go? Nowhere. He didn’t deserve to live but he wasn’t worthy of dying. Not yet.
She was out there, the Witch. Ultimecia. She had to be around, somewhere. He would find her, he would seek her out. Kill her, he would destroy her completely. This time. He would make sure of it. Even if it took his dying breath, he would end it.
Once and for all.
Notes: ...If you see this entry and are using a character journal for Route_29, please defriend this journal. Thank you.