#livelyfellow

Everything had went wrong that night.

Baldur still couldn’t remember all the details, what had happened and how. He remembered darkness and cold water. And how someone had grabbed him. Another hit against his head and… nothing. Ripped apart memories until he had woken up in a room, forced onto a chair. And they had questioned him, asked him so many things and details. Tried to trap him by his own words… if he ever spoke at all. More darkness tearing through those memories. What had happened then…?

Why was it so hard to recall?

But Baldur remembered one thing, cutting through this chaos in his mind like a knife made of white hot iron. An offer that was too good to be true. Lined with threats and mockery. He should play their game again. He should be on their side. And in return… they would tell him where Zell was.

Zell.

Their little lost one.

Baldur had almost gone mad at this idea. Had lashed out and cursed them to the hells of the Infernian. How dare they claim to know anything about him… but they did. They did. And they proved it to him. And his utter rage had become quiet. Silence turning to sadness. And sadness to a glimmer of curiosity. Careful, as Baldur could not bear to be disappointed. They had gotten him here, though. 

Do as we say and you get time with your son.

With Zell.

Of course, Baldur longed to be with his wife again. With Reno and Loqi. But he didn’t know where they were. If they had actually made it to Meldacio… or if not… and here, here was this lost piece of their family. He couldn’t leave Zell behind. Whatever fucked up game the Empire wanted to play with him… Baldur would play, if it meant he could see his second son again. He needed to get him back. He needed to get him home.

And as Baldur stood there, on the planks of a simple fishermen harbour, wearing clothes sturdy and simple to fit in with this backwater place they called Balamb, he could barely breathe. There, just a few steps in front of him. There was a boy. With the bluest eyes and blond hair that had been sunkissed with white strands, wild and unruly, spiking into the air.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. He wanted to grab this boy and hold him tightly so badly. Wanted to kiss him and hug him and never let go. But he couldn’t. They had told him not to cross this line. They were watching. If he did, they would do unspeakable things to him… to the boy…

So Baldur just stared at this little one.

@proxnotxaxfool @livelyfellow

Look! Look it is official! 

‘Mom made us take a picture...’

...

  It had happened again. She’d awoken in the night in near fever-sweats from the dreams that plagued her every now and again. The power deep inside her that had a grip on her mind and heart. The power that needed only squeeze when it wanted to take over, seemingly waiting for the right moment to drag her under and drown her with terrible and uncertain purpose. 

  She’d thrown off her blankets, bare feet finding the plush rug spread beneath her bed to make the cold floors a bit more homely in the mornings — or in this case, sleepless nights. She made her way into the common area Zell and her shared as room-mates, not having expected to find him awake, but not entirely surprised either; they often met like this, lost children in the dark seeking refuge in the cushioned depths of the couch and the bright, buzzing glow of the TV screen that brought a much needed distraction.

  She’d muttered her lament to him before pausing, palming at one eye with the long sleeve of her baggy shirt — stolen from one of the boys, difficult to tell which— the other eye squinting at the screen until the action came into focus. War. Battle. Explosions. Didn’t Zell get enough of this on a daily basis? 

  Rinoa stared at the screen a moment as she skirted around the couch and plopped down, pulling her feet underneath her and fixing her shirt around her bare legs. She held her hand out for the controller.

“No, let me play.” 

— @livelyfellow —

Having Zell aroundwas something both Ida and Baldur had wished for – and they werehappy whenever Zell agreed to it and stayed at the rooms in Formouththey had occupied now.

But this also meantZell got to know that the Tummelts weren’t just all grandeur andnoble like the front they showed everyone. They could be just likeevery family… with Baldur and Ida having the most randomconversations at the dinner table. Or with Baldur side-eyeing Zell,finally asking a question he had been wondering about for months now.

“Zell, may I askwhy you have done that? You know. That tattoo on your face. Why? Youmust be aware that this will have an effect of how people see you.”

It was a tricky question. Baldur knew, but he was strict. He had never seen someone putting ink to their face - at least not in their circles. 

Luckily for Zell, Ida jumped in, putting her hands on Baldur’s shoulders and leaning down to place a kiss to his temple.

“Ah, darling, he is young and tattoos have become a way to express yourself... I am quite sure you would have done the same if it had been more popular back then. Have you forgotten the phase where you cut yourself an undercut with a long ponytail and dyed all your hair red? You were that close to a piercing to your eyebrow as well... I had way more concerns back then than I would ever have for our son’s appearance. And look at that - you still became general, who would have guessed it back then... no one.”

It was all said in a lovely sing-song voice and as Baldur had a red tint crossing his face, Ida just winked to Zell with a mischievous smirk.

  It had been a joke, truly, albeit a dry one — when it came to swinging heavy objects around he had Zell beat by a mile, but hand to hand combat? Unlikely, to say the least.

  What did have Squall curious was just how hard Zell would let loose on the commander if given the chance, giving the other a quick assessing once-over as he squared up and stretched his wrapped hands before curling them into well-trained fists, sinking into a poised and ready position.

@livelyfellow​ asked:  “What’s in it for you?”

What was in it for him? Squall stopped, tip of his gunblade skimming the top of the tarmac as he turned.

“Nothing, I guess. [I think Rin is rubbing off on me.]