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FFVIII: Dizzy
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Irvine's first GF experience. For the Irvine fanwork-a-thon.
Quistis looks at him like he's expected to know how to do this. Maybe, he thinks, she's forgotten: he comes from Galbadia Garden. There's no real GF training there -- there's a course where you go to Balamb Garden for that. He was never interested enough -- or maybe he was afraid of the whispers about them. Whispers that, looking into Quistis' familiar face, are true enough. He can't see a single spark of recognition in her eyes.
"What're you waiting for?"
Wordlessly, he holds his hand out. Her fingers brush his palm and then suddenly, simply, the transfer is complete and they're there -- Ifrit and Siren, voices suddenly in his mind, a presence. For a dizzying moment he feels them seeing with him, through him, and then he blinks and everything is the same, but not the same; vision suddenly sharper, smell and taste and hearing all heightened.
"Are you okay, man?" Zell asks, peering into his face. "You have junctioned before, right?"
"I'm fine," he says, still adjusting, taking stock. He feels stronger, faster. He can feel Ifrit's amusement, Siren's cool interest. Suddenly, his hands itch to summon, to call them forth, to see them. He feels drunk with it, dizzy again.
"Let's get going, then," Squall says. Irvine wonders if he still cries in the rain, still hates to be coddled. He wonders if he will lose those memories as they have, and the thought kills the itch, and leaves him feeling stone-cold sober as he follows the others.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Irvine's first GF experience. For the Irvine fanwork-a-thon.
Quistis looks at him like he's expected to know how to do this. Maybe, he thinks, she's forgotten: he comes from Galbadia Garden. There's no real GF training there -- there's a course where you go to Balamb Garden for that. He was never interested enough -- or maybe he was afraid of the whispers about them. Whispers that, looking into Quistis' familiar face, are true enough. He can't see a single spark of recognition in her eyes.
"What're you waiting for?"
Wordlessly, he holds his hand out. Her fingers brush his palm and then suddenly, simply, the transfer is complete and they're there -- Ifrit and Siren, voices suddenly in his mind, a presence. For a dizzying moment he feels them seeing with him, through him, and then he blinks and everything is the same, but not the same; vision suddenly sharper, smell and taste and hearing all heightened.
"Are you okay, man?" Zell asks, peering into his face. "You have junctioned before, right?"
"I'm fine," he says, still adjusting, taking stock. He feels stronger, faster. He can feel Ifrit's amusement, Siren's cool interest. Suddenly, his hands itch to summon, to call them forth, to see them. He feels drunk with it, dizzy again.
"Let's get going, then," Squall says. Irvine wonders if he still cries in the rain, still hates to be coddled. He wonders if he will lose those memories as they have, and the thought kills the itch, and leaves him feeling stone-cold sober as he follows the others.