Mission Report #16
[video]
The video begins in darkness, into which a woman's voice calls out.
"Squall! Where are you going?"
Forward into the unrelieved blackness runs a small boy, maybe four years old: brown-haired, dressed in jeans and a yellow t-shirt that's too big for him, with a grubby, tear-streaked, determined face. He pauses to call back over his shoulder: "I'm gonna find Sis!"
Then he runs off, past and out of view.
A woman appears, following the boy: tall, young, pretty, with long, straight black hair and an aggressively plain dark grey dress. She calls out again. "Squall!"
Gradually, starting around the her and spreading outwards, the blackness dissolves, leaving her standing on the somewhat overgrown front walk of a crumbling stone building, lined on one side by broken and ivy-covered pillars. From somewhere beyond comes the faint sound of the ocean.
The woman slows, and then stops, and looks directly toward the camera. "Excuse me," she says. "Have you seen a little boy?"
"You don't have to worry." The answer comes from behind the vantage point of the camera: Squall's voice, the seventeen-year-old Squall. He sounds tired. "The boy won't go anywhere."
At this, the woman laughs a little, an awkward, rueful laugh that she hides behind a hand. "I think so too," she admits. "Poor thing..."
The video flickers, jumps briefly, and for a moment the view behind the woman shows the house in ruins, pillars fallen, half the building caved in, and in the black sky above hangs a floating castle, great chains reaching down from it towards the earth. Then the vision is gone and the sky is blue again, but further down the walk, what's left of a white-haired woman in the tatters of a red dress sways on her feet with the effort of standing, broken black wings hanging useless behind her, bleeding onto the stones of the walk.
"...You're alive!?" Squall's gunblade flashes into view.
"The sorceress?"
Static. The image breaks up entirely for a good thirty seconds or so.
"...do not want one of the children to become one." The black-haired woman's voice fades back in first; video returns, garbled, blurry, to show her walking towards the dying sorceress.
The other woman's voice is a harsh rasp. "I... can't... disappear yet."
The screen whites out.
When picture returns again, the sorceress is gone and the woman in the grey dress is on her hands and knees, gasping and shaken. "Is this... the end?"
"...Most likely," Squall's voice says.
"You called me Matron," she says. "Who... are you?"
Squall hesitates for some moments before answering. "A SeeD," he says at least. "A SeeD from Balamb Garden."
She only looks confused. "SeeD? Garden?"
"Both Garden and SeeD were your ideas," he says. "Garden trains SeeDs. SeeDs are trained to defeat the sorceress."
With an effort, she stands, pulling away a half-step to stare at him with a trace of faintly horrified incredulity. "What are you saying?" she says. "You're... that boy, from the future?"
The perspective of the video drops away from her face, tilting down towards the cracked stones of the walk. "...Matron," is all Squall says.
The woman draws herself up very straight. "Please return," she says stiffly. "You do not belong here."
There's a patter of light footsteps and the image hitches and jumps again, skipping to the sight of the little boy from earlier clinging to the woman's skirt, turning a wary look up towards the camera. "Who's he?"
Vertigo. From the sight of the little boy's face the image flickers back and forth to a hazy watercolor view of Squall as a seventeen-year-old, dressed in his black leather with his heavy and oddly-shaped weapon at his side and a scar on his face, looking tough and battered and tired, to the face of the four-year-old boy with the wide and worried blue eyes, to the Squall of now, to the Squall of then--
"Don't talk about this like it's been decided since my birth!"
"...this battle is Garden's destiny and also our destiny..."
"...It's our nature. There is no real reason... Maybe we were born... only to fight..."
The black-haired woman kneels down next to the boy to pat him on the head. "Nobody. You don't need to know," she tells him, as the video begins to break up into static again. "The only Squall permitted here is you."
[end video]
The video begins in darkness, into which a woman's voice calls out.
"Squall! Where are you going?"
Forward into the unrelieved blackness runs a small boy, maybe four years old: brown-haired, dressed in jeans and a yellow t-shirt that's too big for him, with a grubby, tear-streaked, determined face. He pauses to call back over his shoulder: "I'm gonna find Sis!"
Then he runs off, past and out of view.
A woman appears, following the boy: tall, young, pretty, with long, straight black hair and an aggressively plain dark grey dress. She calls out again. "Squall!"
Gradually, starting around the her and spreading outwards, the blackness dissolves, leaving her standing on the somewhat overgrown front walk of a crumbling stone building, lined on one side by broken and ivy-covered pillars. From somewhere beyond comes the faint sound of the ocean.
The woman slows, and then stops, and looks directly toward the camera. "Excuse me," she says. "Have you seen a little boy?"
"You don't have to worry." The answer comes from behind the vantage point of the camera: Squall's voice, the seventeen-year-old Squall. He sounds tired. "The boy won't go anywhere."
At this, the woman laughs a little, an awkward, rueful laugh that she hides behind a hand. "I think so too," she admits. "Poor thing..."
The video flickers, jumps briefly, and for a moment the view behind the woman shows the house in ruins, pillars fallen, half the building caved in, and in the black sky above hangs a floating castle, great chains reaching down from it towards the earth. Then the vision is gone and the sky is blue again, but further down the walk, what's left of a white-haired woman in the tatters of a red dress sways on her feet with the effort of standing, broken black wings hanging useless behind her, bleeding onto the stones of the walk.
"...You're alive!?" Squall's gunblade flashes into view.
"The sorceress?"
Static. The image breaks up entirely for a good thirty seconds or so.
"...do not want one of the children to become one." The black-haired woman's voice fades back in first; video returns, garbled, blurry, to show her walking towards the dying sorceress.
The other woman's voice is a harsh rasp. "I... can't... disappear yet."
The screen whites out.
When picture returns again, the sorceress is gone and the woman in the grey dress is on her hands and knees, gasping and shaken. "Is this... the end?"
"...Most likely," Squall's voice says.
"You called me Matron," she says. "Who... are you?"
Squall hesitates for some moments before answering. "A SeeD," he says at least. "A SeeD from Balamb Garden."
She only looks confused. "SeeD? Garden?"
"Both Garden and SeeD were your ideas," he says. "Garden trains SeeDs. SeeDs are trained to defeat the sorceress."
With an effort, she stands, pulling away a half-step to stare at him with a trace of faintly horrified incredulity. "What are you saying?" she says. "You're... that boy, from the future?"
The perspective of the video drops away from her face, tilting down towards the cracked stones of the walk. "...Matron," is all Squall says.
The woman draws herself up very straight. "Please return," she says stiffly. "You do not belong here."
There's a patter of light footsteps and the image hitches and jumps again, skipping to the sight of the little boy from earlier clinging to the woman's skirt, turning a wary look up towards the camera. "Who's he?"
Vertigo. From the sight of the little boy's face the image flickers back and forth to a hazy watercolor view of Squall as a seventeen-year-old, dressed in his black leather with his heavy and oddly-shaped weapon at his side and a scar on his face, looking tough and battered and tired, to the face of the four-year-old boy with the wide and worried blue eyes, to the Squall of now, to the Squall of then--
"Don't talk about this like it's been decided since my birth!"
"...this battle is Garden's destiny and also our destiny..."
"...It's our nature. There is no real reason... Maybe we were born... only to fight..."
The black-haired woman kneels down next to the boy to pat him on the head. "Nobody. You don't need to know," she tells him, as the video begins to break up into static again. "The only Squall permitted here is you."
[end video]