It’s the empty quiet before the dawn that Quistis finds a strange comfort in. There’s no sound of Cadets wandering the halls, no distant roar of slain foe in the Training Center, no noise. Nothing. It allows her a moment or so to pause from her life, from the professional SeeD, and to feel like a human being.

She leans against the railing of the balcony and looks out just past the coast towards the archipelago, admiring the gentle pinks and purples peeking out from behind dark clouds. A crisp breeze rolling in from the mountains breaks her connection with the sea and causes her to close her eyes and take in a deep breath. Somehow, it stings a little.

Clinging to that feeling, Quistis desperately tries to ground herself, to rid herself of the numbness and return to reality. It’s not exactly healthy to be able to sort of _shut off _one’s senses to cope with trauma, but her body seems to offer no protest to the frigid temperature. Other than her sluggish movements, of course.

“Thank you,” she breathes, wondering how he got here and how he knew to bring her such a thing. Maybe he heard. Maybe he was aware that a particular mission yielding quite a few of her former students had ended in absolute disaster and many haven’t been found. Those who have been found were deceased.

She knew she would have to face the news of a pupil of hers coming to an untimely end at some point, but she wasn’t prepared. There was nothing that could have prepared her for such a thing and not at such a high volume of casualties. Even years later, they had an impact on her. They were hers. They trusted her, had followed her instruction, and it led them to their deaths. It felt like their demise was her responsibility despite the fact that it was just an accident, an unfortunate circumstance involving the instability of mother nature of all things. A cave-in could have happened to anyone, but why did it have to be them? Why did it have to be her students?

Why couldn’t she get one thing right?

“It’s not my fault, is it?” she chokes out and clears her throat. Of course it’s not, she knows this somewhere deep within the swirling vortex of self-doubt, but she needs to hear it from Seifer— needs to know that someone she failed believes she isn’t the cause of this.

He had orders. Orders from a particularly _caring _mutual friend who had assigned Seifer with the task to bring Quistis a blanket and nothing else. Deliver the cover, say nothing, turn around and leave. No 'Seifer' commentary, none of that cocky bravado, no harsh criticism telling Quistis what she had done wrong or remind her of the itemized list he keeps of all her failings, no cutting words, nothing just-- bring her the blanket and come back inside.

But of course, anyone who knows Seifer Almasy _knows _that he's going to do as a Seifer does. So he not only brings the blanket to Quistis, he unfolds it, and he wraps it over her shoulders. And then he remains -- feet planted firm as he stands behind her for a moment, eyes watching the small wisps of blonde that blow in the gentle breeze. They shine almost like gold-spun thread in the pale moonlight.

‘And it’s so beautiful...’ Those words stay hidden away inside the back of his mind. Hands stay held to her arms long enough for Quistis to take hold of the blanket. Anyone out there for too long would be freezing. But nobody was clamoring to get her back inside, no. She would come when she was ready. On her own terms. And Seifer can respect this. But even so, he decides to keep her company, leaning back against the ledge of the balcony with folded arms, studying Quistis in this ‘moment.’ 

He will never know or be capable of knowing what she is feeling in this very moment. And this puzzles him. Truly. He’s played the role of Captain, of Commander... but he’s never molded or shaped young minds. He’s never been in Quistis’ position before. Seifer was a solider. A mercenary. Casualties just happened, death happens. It’s never bothered Seifer, death was only one facet of the job, part of being SeeD. There was little time for sentimentality-- the contract was all that mattered. Mourning came after they were paid.

At least, all these years, that was how Seifer had always interpreted the rules. Even when his methods saved lives, he was punished, regardless.

But the burden of death weighs so heavily on Quistis that Seifer can visibly see it. It's carried in those shoulders, a demon latched and looming over her like some kind of dark cloud-- this demon known as Doubt. How it clings to her, lapping at wounds and drinking up every ounce of surety. Every bit of her strength, resolve...

But here, in this moment, when Quistis asks Seifer if it isn't her fault that her cadets had died, he.... says nothing. As instructed, he wasn't supposed to make her feel worse. Eyes forward, Seifer can see them sitting just inside, their orphanmates. Their so-called ‘family.’ They're either waiting for Seifer to 'break the rules' or anticipating Quistis' return back inside, prematurely forced or coerced by Seifer. Either way, inside is where they sat vigil around a table of comforting foods, a few bottles of wine, flowers... Someone brought a guitar, and it can be heard getting tuned from inside. Even Angelo sits just inside the open doorway, waiting for something to happen, for something to be said.

He knows that they're doing what they can to comfort and be there for her, so... why is it so wrong for Seifer to do the same?  

"You could have never known what was going to happen," Seifer finally says, eyes leaving the doorway to observe the strands of hair blowing freely as the winds shift. "Even if you did-- you could never be so careless. You would have never sent them in. Not if you had known.." 

Far too often, his eyes so often bare the brunt of Seifer's scrutiny when he looks to her, but this time-- this time, he blinks, and his brow softens-- he's a different person entirely. A different facet of Seifer so few so, so rarely ever see. And -- how like the unpredictability of mother nature herself to come and prove a point when those strands fall into Quistis' face.

His gaze never leaves her. Seifer, so daring and so bold-- brings his hand up to gently brush these blonde locks away from her face.

His hand lingers to keep those strands in place, skin warm to the touch of a cold cheek. The breeze dies down, and he takes a second longer to study her before he pulls his hand away. What he has to say is important -- because what Quistis needs from Seifer can’t be obstructed by distraction. 

These words she needed could've come from anyone, but when Seifer spoke them, he spoke them with conviction because here, he promises to her--

I HAVE TO RAVE FOR A BIT BC SBR IS LEGIT INSANE LIKE THE MANGA ALREADY CHANGED MY LIFE BUT THE ANIME IS INCREDIBLE!!!!!! LIKE I LOVE ALL THE CHARACTERS AND THEIR ANIME DESIGNS BUT GYRO AND SANDMAN???? AND DIEGO?????? WOW JUST WOW THEY ARE LEGIT BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!

RAVE AWAY 🐰 ANON, I WAS SO HYPE IT WAS UNREAL, IM IN LOVE WITH JOHNNY ALREADY, HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE THERES NO NEED!