Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Balamb Garden Festival ❯ Ellone's Message ( Prologue )

by Medea (medea@introjection.org)

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII and all it's characters belong to Square and not me. I'm not worth suing anyway, all you'll get out of me is a slow computer, some anime videos and my Eva models... *hides her Seifer figurine behind her back* ^^;
This fic is based shamelessly on Dicken's 'A Christmas Carol' in case you couldn't tell. Thanks go out to Pete for helping me with ideas!

------ Stave One ------

The Sorceress War was over. Peace had returned to the world, and the Garden remained in operation so that they could be prepared for Ultimecia's eventual birth. You could say life had returned to normal, if there ever was such a thing.

As the seasons turned, everyone began to settle into routine. There were classes to run by Quistis, girls to chase by Irvine, hotdogs to eat by Zell, and everything else was pretty much left to Squall. He was beginning to tire of repeating his story to students, but each recollection drew crowds - and developed into a source of income. Another thing he grew tiresome of was Rinoa. Sure, the girl was a sweetheart. And she had such nice, round.. eyes. But Squall-I-don't-need-anyone-else-Leonhart started to remember exactly why he preferred solitude for so long. It just wasn't his thing to express emotions at the drop of a hat.

"Happy Solstice, Squall!"

The one addressed looked up to see a smiling vested Robin Williams look-alike standing before him in the office, daring to interrupt his deep thoughts. He regarded the headmaster for a moment with a stoic expression before frowning.

"...Whatever."

"Come on, Squall!" Cid adjusted the glasses on his nose. "Aren't you excited about the Garden Festival tomorrow? Everyone has put in so much effort..."

[Excited? What do I have to be excited about? Everyone is just getting distracted from their objective. This is a military academy. Not a place for fraternity parties. It's only a festival.]

"... The pride of Balamb Garden! Life and death, victory and defeat..."

[Does this old man ever quit with his speeches? He makes the festival seem like it's greater than time compression. Well, maybe to Selphie it is. I guess people need to be able to have some fun once in a while. But the Festival just doesn't appeal to me.]

"What do you say, Squall? Would you?"

Of course, Squall had not been listening to Cid's recitation of the joys of the Festival. But instead of protesting, he gave him a reluctant "...Whatever," which resulted in a beaming headmaster.

"Good! It's about time you get away from your work and have some fun. I don't want you all to become like robots..."

"Hey, I'll see you there, Squall," piped up Nida, who had been listening in on the conversation from his post on the bridge. The commander simply blinked at him, then turned away so the guy could disappear into the obscurity of an NPC once again.

At that moment, Selphie Tilmitt came bounding into the room. Squall leaned back on his desk, raised a hand to his forehead, and sighed.

"Hiya, Squall!" The brunette chirped with a smile. Pivoting on the spot, she turned to face Cid and gave him the SeeD salute. "Sir, everything's coming along according to schedule."

"Wonderful!" He responded, smiling brightly. "Squall here has agreed to be the MC for tomorrow," he added.

[Huh?!]

"Really? Wow! Booyaka! Thanks, Squall!"

[W-wait...]

"This is gonna be great! Everyone really looks up to you Squall! I've got to go tell Irvine and the others!" And with that, she left the office, more excited than normal, if that was possible.

Squall, however, had a look of sheer dread on his face. Cid noticed it, and put a hand on his shoulder. Expression from Mr. Iceberg, good or bad, was exceptionally rare. "Come now, Squall. It can't be that bad."

"But it is! I don't want this. I never asked for it. Go get someone else to be MC for the stupid festival." Scowling, Squall stormed into the elevator, leaving behind a bewildered old man.

Squall calmed down a little, and took his melancholy dinner in the usual melancholy cafeteria. Having read the Balamb Times, and beguiled the rest of the evening with his SeeD code and conduct manual, he retired to bed. He lived in a dormitory which had once belonged to a nameless SeeD, who had long since left Garden. It was a sterile room, and consisted of little more than a cot, a desk, and some drawers. The case for his gunblade rested against one wall, and the only real sign of residence was a purple striped sock that sat abandoned and lifeless in a corner of the room.

Lying back on his bed, Squall proceeded to drift off into the world of his thoughts once more. Outside, the sun was beginning to submerge into the abyss behind the small town to the west of the Garden, and the structure lit up with its own light, bright enough to rival the sun. Holding the back of his hand to his eyes to block out the menacing glow of the fluorescent on the ceiling, he let his mind wander, and thought about things in the way Squall only could.

(Squall?)

He blinked confusedly, wrinkling the scar on his forehead. Someone was talking in his mind - again. Squall knew it wasn't his Guardian Forces, for they would only speak to him through sensations of ice or thunder. With the power of deduction, he realised who it must be speaking to him.

"Ellone?"

(Hi, Squall. How are you?)

Pausing to think, Squall decided eventually on what word would be appropriate to assess his present mood.

"Lousy. Is there something wrong, Elle?"

(Yes, there is. Everybody is starting to get worried about you. Actually, we're getting fed up with your nonchalant, self-absorbed attitude.)

[What?!] Squall sat up, and shook his head in disbelief.

(Everyone has been working incredibly hard on the summer festival, and you're acting so negative. So they've asked me to do this.)

[I wish everyone would just leave me alone!]

"What's going on? Ellone?"

(Squall, just listen to me. I can't keep this 'connection' for long. You have to be taught a lesson. It's for your own good.)

"Huh? Why?"

(Because if you keep being an asshole, we will be forced to kill you.)

That shut Squall up. He blinked his eyes. Surely Quistis, Zell and the others wouldn't... Before he could question the intruding voice, it continued to speak.

(Tonight, you shall be visited by three guides. I'm going to help them take you through time. Without their help, you cannot expect to overcome your problems and stop being so damn pissy.)

Squall tried to protest, he was seriously worried. Traveling through time to see through Laguna's eyes was bad enough. But would Ellone make him go through the memories of his childhood? So before he could say a word, his thoughts drowned him, and Ellone continued.

(Expect the first tomorrow, when the clock strikes one.)

"Can't I just take them all at once?" He shifted his weight on the bed, much like a child fidgeting in hope to avoid Matron's reprimand. "To have it all over and done with?"

(Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Goodbye, Squall, and good luck.)

"Ellone! Ellone, wait!" Squall was on his feet, calling to his unseen companion. It was, however, already too late, for she had disconnected her power to communicate in such a way. The room fell silent, and the leather-clad commander sat back down on his bed. He tried to dismiss what had occurred with a "Whatever," but the word simply would not form on his lips. With a tap of the X button, he turned off the lights and fell asleep instantly.