![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fatima基本怨念是：如果《Sale Source》那样的都可以写出来贴，为啥老子就不能写这样的来贴！？
Anyway. Yet another spinoff from the Sins universe. -_-|||||
Title: Molten Core
Pairing: Seifer/Squall (Rinoa POV)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Borrowing Sqaurenix's characters. Will return at a future date.
Molten Core
by Renata Lord (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snowlight)
*
He thinks he love me. He might even believe it. Yet I always catch the stillness that is in him, the sense that everything only turned out the way they should be, nothing more.
In these days he is perfectly calm, all signs of a hidden incoming storm long discarded. To the reassurance of everyone, there is no longer any seed of instability. In fact, during the past ten years I don't recall hearing him raising his voice, even once.
But you know, Squall is meant to be a whirl of rushing winds. I remember a time when anger burned in him as brightly as love, and fervor was all tangled up with vehemence. Many people think that he is not capable of having those raw feelings, but I have witnessed it in its devastating power.
Sometimes I wonder if it's the same man—my husband standing before the window, holding the report in his hand with a neutral expression on his face; and my friend, who screamed into a cell phone and then flung it against the wall. I'd never seen him cry before that, or since.
The storms had ceased years ago, his vitriol bled out by time. Even his speaking tone has softened, as if tempered by a gentle rain. Yet when I look at him with a lover's eyes, it's painfully clear that a part of him is no longer here. He has learned to smile at the people around him, but as for his heart—ah, his heart sleeps in the molten core of the world.
Anyway. Yet another spinoff from the Sins universe. -_-|||||
Title: Molten Core
Pairing: Seifer/Squall (Rinoa POV)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Borrowing Sqaurenix's characters. Will return at a future date.
Molten Core
by Renata Lord (
snowlight)*
He thinks he love me. He might even believe it. Yet I always catch the stillness that is in him, the sense that everything only turned out the way they should be, nothing more.
In these days he is perfectly calm, all signs of a hidden incoming storm long discarded. To the reassurance of everyone, there is no longer any seed of instability. In fact, during the past ten years I don't recall hearing him raising his voice, even once.
But you know, Squall is meant to be a whirl of rushing winds. I remember a time when anger burned in him as brightly as love, and fervor was all tangled up with vehemence. Many people think that he is not capable of having those raw feelings, but I have witnessed it in its devastating power.
Sometimes I wonder if it's the same man—my husband standing before the window, holding the report in his hand with a neutral expression on his face; and my friend, who screamed into a cell phone and then flung it against the wall. I'd never seen him cry before that, or since.
The storms had ceased years ago, his vitriol bled out by time. Even his speaking tone has softened, as if tempered by a gentle rain. Yet when I look at him with a lover's eyes, it's painfully clear that a part of him is no longer here. He has learned to smile at the people around him, but as for his heart—ah, his heart sleeps in the molten core of the world.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ah, his heart sleeps in the molten core of the world.
Date: 2009-02-18 12:09 am (UTC)Re: ah, his heart sleeps in the molten core of the world.
Date: 2009-02-18 01:13 am (UTC)Uh, please don't.
Date: 2009-02-18 10:51 pm (UTC)Re: Uh, please don't.
Date: 2009-02-19 05:14 am (UTC)