LunaManar

It was the same no matter where he looked. It had been and would be, and now was no different than weeks ago, or hours ahead.Another grey nightmare, endless and empty like so many that had come and gone. Endless wasteland behind him, empty waters before him, and no voices, no wind. Not a whisper to answer him. He’d walk along that shore forever, calling her name, and as he walked, he would age. The name on his lips would change, but the breathless feeling never did.Squall’s only company in this journey was the echo of his own voice, and even that seemed to dwindle as he succumbed to exhaustion and what he assumed was madness. Phantom voice...

It was the same no matter where he looked. It had been and would be, and now was no different than weeks ago, or hours ahead.Another grey nightmare, endless and empty like so many that had come and gone. Endless wasteland behind him, empty waters before him, and no voices, no wind. Not a whisper to answer him. He’d walk along that shore forever, calling her name, and as he walked, he would age. The name on his lips would change, but the breathless feeling never did.Squall’s only company in this journey was the echo of his own voice, and even that seemed to dwindle as he succumbed to exhaustion and what he assumed was madness. Phantom voice...

It was the same no matter where he looked. It had been and would be, and now was no different than weeks ago, or hours ahead.Another grey nightmare, endless and empty like so many that had come and gone. Endless wasteland behind him, empty waters before him, and no voices, no wind. Not a whisper to answer him. He’d walk along that shore forever, calling her name, and as he walked, he would age. The name on his lips would change, but the breathless feeling never did.Squall’s only company in this journey was the echo of his own voice, and even that seemed to dwindle as he succumbed to exhaustion and what he assumed was madness. Phantom voice...

The sun was setting over Balamb Garden's stern. The air about the ancient construction's reflective hide was saturated with evening glare, still but for the wingbeats of trolling sea birds. Resident crickets had begun to rise and the beckoning scent of the cafeteria's last call was drifting away.Students, soldiers and SeeDs alike walked the steady levels with confidence; the Garden was moored at Dollet, its occupants the guests of the duchy by way of apology. The tinder-dry tensions along Galbadia's ever-encroaching borders necessitated Garden's intimidating silhouette, but on account of empty pockets and an increasingly restless populace,...