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Chronicles of Valentine	By : Crya2Evans Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 772 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
a/n: At last! An update! Huzzah!
Time passes rather quickly here. I take liberties with geology and some elements of science and stuff that we come to know as rational and logical in this world. It happens on a much faster scale here on Gaia, and my reason for that? Well, Gaia has the Lifestream and magic, no doubt its geological processes are different than ours. So that's what I'm aiming for here. And I have taken several classes on geological processes so I'm drawing from some knowledge here, not just out of my ass (like say, some other things I may have described in previous chapters -shifty eyes-).
Ahem. Long author's note aside, enjoy the chapter! And a special thanks to those have stuck with me despite the long wait between updates. Much love to Kuromei(I had planned to pair Vincent with Shion, but the muses wanted something different. Alas. Thanks!), MyValenwind, lijana and Nelleh.
Ah, and self-beta'ed as always.
Chronicles of Valentine
-- February 12, 3124 --
I fought against the shiver that attacked my thin frame and yanked open the door to the bar, heat washing over me. Along with the ripe odor of copious amounts of alcohol, cleaning solution, and frying foods. I grimaced at the sudden influx of sensation, but stepped into the tavern anyways, letting the door slam shut behind me. No one looked up at my entrance, not that I expected anyone to.
I hovered in the door for a moment, knocking my boots against the ground to clear out the snow and ice that had accumulated within them. I brushed a layer of snow from my shoulders. Winters had grown harsher over the years, I noticed. Heavier with precipitation and undeniably cold. As if to further remind me that the world was changing around me, more and more each year.
I didn't even have a single moment to relax before a body went flying by me, slamming into the second door and crashing through it. I watched impassively as he tumbled into the sidewalk, sliding across snow and ice with a dull thump, a spray of wood accompanying his tumble. A bar fight. Wonderful.
I contemplated turning back around and looking for the next place to find food and shelter, when my attention was snagged by the growing altercation. Chairs pushed across the floor with noisy squeaks as some the patrons rose to their feet. The rest remained sitting, ignoring the possible confrontation as they focused on their number one interest -- beer. And all of the half-dozen angry, inebriated men had gathered around a single opponent.
A woman.
My eyes narrowed. She was a small thing, no bigger than Yuffie had been when we started our fight against Sephiroth all those years ago. But her squared shoulders and defiant stare gave the illusion of someone much bigger. There was every possibility that she could take care of herself. That like Yuffie, foes such as these were a piece of cake, a quick twist of a shuriken and a foolhardy grin.
But these were also a half-dozen drunken men, mechanics and builders and carpenters by the look of them, and they didn't look too happy that their buddy had broken the door to their favorite bar, courtesy of aforementioned female. At least, I assumed that was what had occurred. Since I hadn't witnessed it, I could only go by the evidence.
"You stuuupiiid, bitch," one man slurred, unsteady on his feet as he grabbed for the nearest weapon which happened to be a chair. Or maybe it was intended to be a cane as his balance was quite nonexistent.
Her chin, a rather elegant and attractive chin I belatedly noticed, tilted upwards. "He deserved it," she said in return, her voice made of hardened steel. Pale blue eyes, a shade away from the sky in Cid's, glittered as though daring her foes to attack.
One of the men growled. An incoherent sound of drunken rage. He didn't wait for his buddies to join the fight, instead barreling forward with all the grace of a rampaging Skee-Skee. I stepped out of the doorway, watching with interest, fingering the Winchester strapped to my thigh and hidden beneath my cloak.
The woman stood her ground, her curls bouncy as they drizzled over her shoulders. There was an imperceptible narrowing of her eyes before she grabbed the charging rhino by the horn -- or arm as it were -- and casually tossed him over her shoulder. He crashed into a table behind her, leaving it nothing but splinters and managing to infuriate the occupants of said table -- all five of them.
They, too, leapt to their feet, none too pleased to have their alcohol lying in a messy splatter on the floor rather than in their mouths where it belonged. Mutters of discontent rippled through the bar. And some of the patrons were subtly making their way to the exit. The bartender had long since vanished with the sort of understanding that someone in his position had learned to cultivate.
I began to suspect that this was more than she could handle. Fingering Winchester and dismissing the gun in an instant, I assumed a few hand-to-hand Turk moves would be enough to dismiss half of the opponents. I stepped forward just as several of the men decided now would be the perfect time to attack.
"Ten against one are unfair odds," I said without raising my voice. Somehow, the words were loud enough to be picked up by everyone, effectively announcing my presence.
One man snorted. The woman's eyes flickered towards me, holding an edge of contempt perhaps? Another man laughed.
And all hell broke loose. Or at least, that was the best I could describe it as. Someone vaulted drunkenly over a table towards me as another made a beeline for the lone female.
I easily incapacitated my opponent by twisting his arm behind his back and breaking his shoulder. He howled in pain as I sent him tumbling to the floor with a palm press to the back. Pfft. I wouldn't even need Winchester or any of my guns for this. Pitiful.
Just as I turned, thinking to face another opponent, one of the drunken sots went flying past me, crashing through a window and letting in a surge of frigid air. Glass shattered, bathing the floor with sharp slivers. I arched an impressed brow. She was certainly a feisty one.
"Watch out!"
Something snatched my arm and pulled me a good three feet to the left and only my enhanced balance kept me from tumbling to the ground. I narrowly missed getting pummeled in the head by a wooden chair. Not that it would have killed me. And not that my rescuer could have possibly known that.
"Wow, you're really not aware of your surroundings, are you?" the unnamed woman asked brightly, her fingers unnaturally warm on my arm.
I blinked. "And you seem to have no problem being in this situation," I returned bluntly, because yes, it was a bit of a wound to my pride that I hadn't sensed the attack coming.
My battle senses were becoming disgustingly weak lately. I would have to amend that. Or perhaps they just weren't attuned to "drunken idiot violence". Either way, this would have to be rectified. Even if I could not die, it was better to avoid the greater hurts. Just because I seemed incapable of dying, did not mean that the attacks didn't hurt. I felt pain just like any other person, and sometimes, I daresay that I experienced it worse.
"Happens all the time," she said cheekily and her eyes widened briefly before she ducked backwards, her grip on my arm dragging me along with her.
I stumbled, she laughed, and an inebriated brute tumbled past her. She stuck out a foot, he tripped on her boot and hit the ground.
A grumble of discontent rumbled through the remaining patrons of the bar, no doubt friends to the drunken sots. More chairs squeaked as drinks were abandoned in the interest of violence. In the back of my mind, the demons practically salivated. At last something interesting!
I instantly regretted involving myself in this nonsense. Why had I decided to become concerned when my attitude as of late could best be described as laissez-faire? And to think, all I had wanted was a stiff drink -- preferably something to chase the lingering chill from my bones.
Instead, I got this.
This being the gathered anger of a two dozen drunken men hell bent on revenge against a single woman and the man foolish enough to think she might have needed some kind of help. Curse the hero instinct that AVALANCHE had ingrained so thoroughly in me.
Beside me, she took a step backwards with her single foot sliding across the floor, a bare whisper of sound. "Tell me you're a high-ranking soldier or a secret government assassin or even better a ninja behind that pretty face."
While at one time I had been both of the aforementioned two, I was neither now. And I had certainly never been a ninja or related to one Yuffie Kisaragi. Thank some distant god for that small favor.
I shook my head, lips drawn into a tight line of annoyance. "No, I'm not."
She sighed. "Pity."
A fight seemed imminent. I internally sighed, resigning myself to a battle which would inevitably draw out my darker side, perhaps show these humans what truly lurked in their midst, and find myself again on the outskirts of the town, searching for somewhere else to lay my head for the night.
I considered my materia -- or what of I had left that still worked properly -- but alas, there was not a single status-affecting bit of magic in my arsenal. Not unusual considering I had no interest in that sort of attack against a monstrous opponent. I aimed to kill when facing the beasts of the wild. Not incapacitate. It was how I had been trained and those sorts of things were very difficult to forget.
"I really don't have time for this," the woman added with another annoyed
moan, and before I could blink or so much as comment, she turned on her heels and darted towards the door.
Whether she had conveniently forgotten that she still gripped my arm with the force of an iron band or had intended it was a moot point. I was dragged along into her sprint regardless, feeling a bit like a toy brought along for the ride. A startled sound emerged from my lips as I was tugged along after the stranger, my feet scrambling to stay under me where they belonged rather than up in the air with my back flat on the ground.
We spilled into frigid twilight, snow crunching beneath our boots. Behind us, cries of outrage chased like angered, drunken curses. The men were none too happy that their barfight had run right out the door. But I doubted they would give chase.
She continued to run; I had no choice to follow. We sprinted past the unconscious body of her first opponent, who looked dazed rather than dead but still uncomfortable as the snow fell in steady layers over his body. He would be a corpse soon, if one of his friends didn't retrieve him. Winter nights were not forgiving. Not anymore.
It bothered me that her grip was this strong. Strong like someone enhanced with mako and I could have sworn that had passed years and years ago, so many years that I couldn't count them exactly but knew that they numbered in centuries. I could discern nothing about this woman's occupation. She dressed plainly and there was nothing about her appearance that stood out.
She would have made the perfect assassin.
A block or so later, and several turns, she finally decided that she had fled far enough. Her running turned to jogging turned to walking and then she drew to a halt, one hand propped up against an ice-coated street lamp. It shone muzzily through the thick fall of snow, blanketing my shoulders in white and covering her dark hair. She sucked in a breath or two, barely winded, and I took the opportunity to free my arm from her grip with a violent yank.
I had the feeling that I only managed it because she allowed me. Frowning, I examined my arm where the imprint of her fingers lingered beneath my thick shirt.
"That's the first time anyone's ever kept up to me," she said after a moment, watching me with direct interest. One hand stuck out, palm open and carefree. "The name's Leora, stranger. Thanks for the help. Even if I didn't need it."
I eyed her hand warily. A prideful part of me wondered if her unnatural strength would crush my fingers. However, it had never been my policy to politely shake hands with anyone, so it would be unusual to start now. I didn't even intend to give my name, but looking into her eyes, it emerged anyway.
"Valentine," I said stiffly, contemplating a swift turn and walk in the other direction. My nose flared. Leora smelled of trouble in small bundles. Another Yuffie, if you would.
She grinned, her smile brighter and more warm than anything I had seen in quite some time. As though undiluted by the trials and tribulations of a life actually lived. Though judging from her unnatural strength, that couldn't be the case. Surely she had a story, one likely to match my own. If not mako, her intensity still screamed of scientific experiment.
Cocking her hip to the side, Leora leaned against the ice-covered lamp post as though not even measuring the iciness of the air. Meanwhile, I shivered beneath my cloaks and clothing, a strange thing considering that usually my body adapted itself quickly to any environment. An unusual occurrence to ponder later.
"So, Valentine," she began, enunciating heavily. "I don't recall seeing you around here before."
I stiffened beneath the cloak, though my expression didn't show it. "It's a large city," I said, pulling my scarf up and closer to my neck, burying the lower half of my face in the woolly and warm confines.
She snorted, her blue eyes narrowing briefly, losing a bit of their bright innocence. "I've also never seen red eyes before. Interesting."
And I had never met a woman strong enough to bodily haul me anywhere, much less out of a bar, down the street, and around a couple of corners. But I wasn't going to say that aloud.
"They are natural," I explained, and whirled on my heel. Enough of this. It wasn't that I had anything better to do, but that I didn't wish to get entangled with this woman.
I tugged the edges of my cloak stronger about myself. I would need to find somewhere to stay for the night. If the cold was going to affect me like this, I shouldn't camp out. Otherwise I would wake up rather uncomfortable and possibly with a cold. Though I had never caught sickness like that before. Then again, I had also never felt the chill so strongly. Avoiding discomfort was at the top of my list.
I managed to walk for a city block before my silence was interrupted.
"You're very interesting."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Not only had I not heard Leora approach, but I had not sensed her at all. And after that wake-up call in the bar, I had ramped my senses up to their full notch. I was at the point of registering every creak of the buildings around me, even a bird flying through the air far above me.
I didn't turn to look at her. "That's the second time you've used that word."
"Well, it's true." She trotted up to my side, still grinning, and still wearing significantly fewer layers than I did. And yet, she seemed nonplussed by the iciness. "I've the feeling there's something different about you, Mr. Valentine. Something, I dare say, that we have in common."
A comment bubbled up from my gut. I pushed it back down and settled for something a bit more logical. "Why are you still following me?"
She chuckled as though enjoying some private joke. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?"
And that, right there, nearly broke me. I halted, blinked, and forced my limbs to move again all in the space of five seconds. She laughed all the louder at my reaction, as though it were an everyday event for her to compliment a stranger and imply that she was only following the interesting person because she liked the way he looked.
"I don't like women," I said, partially a lie, but it was a protecting lie and I had never cared much about stretching the truth.
Leora nodded gamely. "Neither do I," she chirped cheerfully. "See? We have something in common already."
My eyebrow twitched. Echoes of Shion stirred inside of me. He, too, had insinuated himself into my life. And I somehow had the distinct feeling that Leora would not be shaken so easily.
-- August 2, 3194 --
Her fingers were cold, a startling contrast to what they had always been in mine. Warm and comforting, her laughter infectious, her cheerful energy bright. Almost too bright for someone like me to dare hold.
I stroked my thumb over her lifeless palm, staring endlessly through an unshuttered window, beyond the wood panes. It wasn't that I hadn't expected this. It was an inevitably. They growing older as I never changed. The years passing by far too quickly. Why did they always rush by for happiness, but drag on into forever when I was alone?
"Mr. Valentine?"
Sighing softly, I rose to my feet and pressed my lips to her forehead, so pale and wrinkled with age. "Good night," I said, because for her, there was never such a thing as good bye. She hated them, and she had told me so many times.
I could almost hear her teasing reply, so clear in my ears. In my heartbroken state, I feared I was going mad. I wondered how much more of this my bleeding heart would take. How many more times would I allow myself to say goodbye, to love and lose all over again?
Squeezing her fingers, I drew back from the hospital bed, letting my eyes linger over her small and fragile body one last time. It was wrong to see her like this, so frail. I could clearly remember her strength, her attitude, her sparkling eyes. Her amusement.
There are things we can do that don't require actual sex, Vincent, she had said in response to my earliest attempts at rebuff. Of all the reasons I had avoided women in the first place. And just like that, she had dragged me out of loneliness.
I turned away before the heat banking behind my eyes chose to show their face. I had only cried once in this extensive life of mine, and I refused to do so again. It would hurt far too much to let it out.
The woman who had called my name -- a nurse that had come to recognize me -- turned her sympathetic gaze on me. "I'm sorry about your grandmother."
I would have choked on her words if I wasn't so used to hearing them. "She was a good woman," I said, inclining my head. "Will you see to her final accommodations?"
She blinked at me, clutching her medical clipboards as though they were a lifeline. "You won't...?"
I didn't have the right for any of that. Leora had been mine, for a time, but she still had family. They might not have approved of our relationship, but they had always cared for her. And her nieces and nephews had something planned, as did her younger sister. Something I was not to be part of. I did not fault them for their discrimination. I knew very well what I looked like.
I didn't answer the nurse, leaving her to her confusion as I stepped down the hallway like a dark shadow, having long since traded in the red for something a bit more concealing.
I no longer wanted to announce my presence by wrapping myself in the color of blood. Unfortunately, it did little good to cut my hair, so I contented myself with pulling it back.
Stepping out into the warm sunshine of mid-Autumn, I took a moment to let the heat of the weather wash over my face. It fell over dry eyes and a composed expression, even if inside I was shaking so badly my bones clacked together.
Another one gone, another notch to join the marks already engraved in my heart. Lucrecia and Reeve and Cid and Cloud and Shion and Leora. And what was worse was that in the passing years, I was beginning to forget some of the details. Reeve's face blurred every now and again. And I couldn't remember, for the life of me, the exact shade of Cloud's hair. I used to know Cid's brand of cigarette by smell alone, now I couldn't even remember the package. Shion's stupid joke that he always said, the punchline had long escaped me. Only Leora remained fresh. I could only assume that she, too, would fade with time.
Some I attributed to the bullet to the brain. I had healed, but some of my memories had returned a little disorganized and a little fuzzy. With time, they might pull back together, but by then, new ones would have taken over the spaces they once occupied. I hated my brief brush with weakness. If I had not attempted a futile death, I would still hold those precious images.
The warm sunshine could not erase my melancholy. Ignoring the stares of the populace around me -- even with an obvious change of attire I still drew attention -- I headed into the heart of the city. I would need to restock, to purchase again my items for wandering. I had settled, briefly, for Leora, but now I could not stay in one place for too long. Lest I reveal my true nature.
I asked myself if I could really do this again.
Again and again. Over and over. Letting myself fall for someone and watching them die, little by little, as the years passed. Feeling my heart shatter and mend, only to shatter again. There were only so many times something broken could be patched together before the glue didn't work and the stitches always ripped. And I was so very tired.
I didn't want to try anymore.
Leora had asked me to not give up. To believe that there was something salvageable in this life of mine. She had urged me to find someone else, because time went by faster when I wasn't alone. That a life spent alone wasn't worth suffering. I wished that I could keep that half-hearted promise, but honestly, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't do this anymore. It was too much like hope, and I couldn't afford that anymore.
My heart couldn't take it.
I disappeared quietly into the night.
-- April 23, 3546 --
Time passed, as it was supposed to do, and I was dragged along with it. The world changed around me, bit by bit, more and more each year. And unwilling to remain in one place long enough for someone to recognize that not only did I not age, but I did not participate in society either, I kept on a constant move. My eyes saw much in those years, and were I an historian, the prospect of watching the world change would have astounded me.
It happened too slowly for me to feel much of anything.
My friends were gone and all that was left was the loneliness of a world I didn't belong to. I avoided relationships with others because I couldn't handle what would happen when they left me. Not again. So I kept to myself and to the demons, who hadn't become any more amiable through the years. They were as bored of my circumstances as I. Monsters were no challenge for us anymore. Nothing was.
I watched as famine struck on the edge of a sweeping drought. The grasslands shrunk, turning into a dry wasteland and completely destroying the chocobo industry. The people turned against each other in those dark times, and I stood back as the world tore itself apart. The harmony it had built in the wake of Sephiroth's destruction and return vanished in the face of hungry children and withering crops. There was nothing I could do to aid them. I had no special magic to bring back the rains again.
I could only watch, and watch I did. It was horrifying, and it was terrible, but as all things, the drought faded and the world gradually began to rebuild. More years passed where it seemed all would be well. Technology continued to advance, and with it, came the monsters.
Bigger ones now. Smarter and more terrifying. They learned how to use magic and weapons, how to form herds and attack in groups. The beasts populated quickly and spread across the land in droves, giving enough of a workout for the demons and I. They were pleased by the new prey; I found myself annoyed.
My materia stopped working around the year 3500. I had realized something was changing as it began faltering. The intense colors grew cloudy. Fire sputtered and died. Healing magic could barely pull together the lightest of cuts and bruises. And then, they cracked and shattered, crumbling to dust.
If I were a scientist or something similar, I could probably understand the reason why. I knew the Lifestream was still running strong. I could feel it beneath me, my senses attuned perhaps because of all the loved ones that flowed its banks. Or perhaps it was that the Lifestream was sinking deeper and deeper into Gaia, to protect itself.
The world had moved on from mako, but that didn't make its new energy any better. And people were losing their beliefs in the old ways. And when belief faltered, so did the magic that created them. By the time the last of my materia had sputtered and died, the general public had forgotten what they were. When a shopkeeper had caught a glimpse of the orbs in my Winchester, he had asked me what they were. The fool had thought them to be mere decoration.
Sadly, at the time they were. The materia had long stopped working and I had been holding on to them for sentimentalities more than anything else.
It was luck, and probably a bit of circumstance, that allowed me to stumble on the magic welling from the ground years later. Curls and curls of power, so palpable that they flowed across my skin, prickling and dizzying. I knew at first touch that it had to be magic, and when I thought about what sort it might be, I felt an immense power flowing into me, somehow called by my demons.
The three latched onto the magic, and before I knew it, I was instantly aware of the presence of several fire spells in the back of my mind. It became a simple task -- one of trial and error -- to learn how to call upon the fire. It wasn't long after that I learned how to find these magic wells -- or draw points as society soon termed them. It was thanks to the demons that I eventually learned how to draw from the monsters as well.
The changes in magic, however, were no more startling than the changes to the world itself. As time passed, Gaia changed, beset with not only the passage of time, but a world whose face altered, as though growing old. Soon, Gaia's people had to learn how to counter a new threat, one whose face could not be seen, which had no enemy to defeat.
Spewing ash and smoke, spilling fire into the air, something rose from the ocean between Wutai and Cosmo Canyon, sending great shocks through the land as well as massive walls of water to either shore. It spat into the sky for many weeks, a looming monster that no one could counter. Crops were covered in ash and liquid stone clogged the watery channel. The residents of Cosmo Canyon were forced to flee to the other coast and the sky was grey for months.
I stood on the huge bluff overlooking Cosmo Canyon and stared at the volcano as it continued to belch its poison. Wutai became a wasteland covered in ash and debris, though the residents had long ago fled. And this side of the continent had been abandoned, even Rocket Town and what remained of Nibelheim. I assumed it would be some time before the humans ventured near here again.
It took months before the beast lost any energy, but by that point, the whole appearance of the world had changed. It had become dingy and grey. But even more than that, Wutai and Cosmo Canyon were no longer separated by the ocean. The two nearest peninsulas had been amalgamed together by the volcano's eruption. It was terrifying and yet beautiful to behold.
A part of me felt awed to be involved in witnessing this with my own eyes. I was the only one alive to see the ending and the beginning.
Gaia had not stopped there. She wasn't done spilling her displeasure it seemed. The ground continued to shake, to turn and toss. The world changed, altered, broke apart and sealed together anew. The islands to the south were split by an invisible force that seemed to tear it from below. The lands to the north were divided by a massive quake, broke apart into smaller islands, a huge rift cutting right through the Northern Crater and burying Icicle Inn under tons of ice and rock.
But never more startling was anything than to watch an entire mountain heave and destroy what I had begun to call Lucrecia's Cave. Her final resting place.
I stood on the edge and looked down into a flat, pockmarked wasteland. The waterfall and pool had been completely covered. There was no sign of the crater that had once graced the landscape. There was no sign of her cave.
I waited for the crushing blow. The gripping sensation of having failed her yet again. For the guilt to consume me and for the pain to strike my heart. My stomach coiled uneasily as I waited.
It never came.
To my utter surprise, I had somehow forgiven myself for Lucrecia's fate a long time beforehand. I still loved her. There was a place
inside my heart that yearned for her alone. She could never be replaced. But I no longer clung to her memory. She was no longer the alpha and the omega in my thoughts.
She was simply Lucrecia. The woman I adored. The woman I failed to save, and paid for my failure with my life. She was beautiful and she was perfect, but she was also gone and I had accepted that. Somewhere along the way, I had accepted my part in that.
Perhaps it was merely apathy. Three thousand years was a long time to cling to the past. When one lived -- existed -- for that long, memories of the beginning grew fuzzier, less distinct. I could clearly recall my feelings for her. The sound of her laughter, the curve of her smile. And the terrible things were fading. There was no room for them, not when I had more desire to recall the wonderful truths. Not when I didn't want to forget her, as she was. Or Reeve. Cloud. Shion. Leora. Any of those that had made a stamp on my repeatedly cracked heart.
Arguably, I still harbored some hatred for Hojo. If not for him, I would have been granted peace a thousand times over. I would have already passed on into the next life. I would not be forced to wander Gaia endlessly. There were days that I sunk into melancholy when I realized my fate. But as always, they passed. As with all things, eventually, they passed.
Except for me.
I watched the world change around me and thought it so strange that something as massive as Gaia could alter when something as small and insignificant as myself remained the same. I avoided mirrors as though they were cursed bits of glass and metal. I didn't like seeing my unchanging face. Each year was harder than the last.
I had heard that boredom could kill a man. Well, I had now proven that such a thing was an utter farce. Otherwise I would have happily died a thousand times over. I no longer lived, I merely existed, and I wondered how long this existence of mine would last. Until the end of Gaia? The end of time? Would I be here when the world itself came to an end?
Would that be my peace at last?
How awful of me to wish for such a thing.
The nights were cold, the mornings empty, the afternoons dry and arid like a desert. The sun rising and falling became a curse. And the sporadic cough was more annoying than anything else. After awhile, I didn't notice it either. I didn't notice much of anything at all, not even when the world slowly but surely trudged again towards war.
* * * * *
a/n: Next chapter we enter the wonderful world of FF8, Squall, and all the bishies associated with Squall. Yay!
Thanks for sticking with me! I really look forward to knowing who is still reading and enjoying this. So take a moment to drop me a line please. I will be eternally grateful, and they make my fingers fly faster across the keyboard.
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Chronicles of Valentine