Again, this is optional reading for The Redcrosse Knight, consisting of the (hopefully amusing) letters which Seifer and Squall send to each other during the year in which they are separated. One more chapter of letters and the main plot will then continue.

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me they belong to Squaresoft.

The Place With The Stupid Festivals, 230 Prospect Way, Balamb: January 10th,

To Squallie-fluff (it’s not Squallie-pie, you see?),

Help me Squall. The staff of Garden likes to revive some kind of ancient practice of drawing girl’s names out of a box and then you take them to a couples’ only dance on Feb. 14. I think it was an ancient torture practice. I know you will say I probably deserve it for calling you names, but no, I don’t. No one deserves this.

I guess the only good thing about it is now is my chance to start breaking some of the promiscuity rules. Only I don’t know how that’s going to work out seeing as how I don’t know how to dance. Also, I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to dance. I want to be sick in my room instead. I suppose you could call this interesting, you sick freak, but just remember it will happen to you when you come here too.

By the way, it’s okay if you main me so long as you do so in an artistic way. I don’t mind having some scars, just don’t put them anywhere that will mar my natural attractiveness, okay?

But anyway, more about this horrific festival, I was so appalled that I went and looked it up in the library. There aren’t many useful books in the library by the way. I think the school’s assumption is that all of us are thick as bricks since we are studying to become mercenaries. Either that or its just that the staff members are all as thick as bricks. I think it is probably the latter. There are some online databases that are helpful, but anyway I didn’t find anything there. So I went to the Balamb public library and found a massive old book on the history of local festivals. Yes, you know I can read, so don’t bother slighting my intelligence now. Just because I prefer for you to read to me doesn’t mean I can’t do it on my own, just that I have a preference.

Anyway, I guess that before the First Sorceress War there was a festival for Freya, this goddess of love and fertility, and at that time people drew ballots with women’s names on them and had sex with them for one night. Oh man, see, that is a festival I could get behind, none of this dancing crap. Or well, a different sort of dancing I guess. Later on the festival became about giving gifts to lovers and cost some people during the time of the fourth and fifth wars a lot of money. After that though, as you know, there was the really big war that began at the end of January and so no one was in the mood for celebrating any love festivals. That’s probably why it ceased to be celebrated.

So there you go. You’ve been educated and all. But listen Squall, you have to help me think of a plan to get out of this. Maybe I can think of a way to rig the ballot. Well, anyway, before you complain again about being bored just think of me and the suffering I am about to endure. I even have to get measured for formal wear.

Your faithful companion who is suffering unendurable pain and anguish,
S. Almasy

Kramer Orphanage, 432 Lakeview Drive, South Aegir: January 24th,

Dear Seiffy-fluffy-cute-pink-kitten-fluff-pie,

I am well-aware how ridiculous that just sounded, but remember, you started it. Rigging the ballot sounds like an excellent idea. If the ballots are typed then it’s going to be as simple as anything. Just find out what the ballots look like, make your own, and have it in your hand while you are fishing in the box. But a lot of this depends on how the whole thing is run, you see? You need an insider’s report of the way this stuff works.

Yes, that does sound appalling. I apologize for being bored. I am currently trying not to laugh my ass off at you. Nope, sorry, it didn’t work.

Remember when Mrs. Kramer tried to teach us how to dance? You were wearing your boots and you trod on Quistis’ foot and she kicked you in an unmentionable place? That’s one thing about Quistis, she doesn’t mess around like Selphie with all of that biting and hair pulling. Anyway the girls were more interested in it all than we were. Oh, except for Irvine, I guess, but he counts as a girl anyway, despite all of his macho talk, doesn’t he?

That sounds like a very unusual festival. I’m glad we don’t celebrate it here. Can you just imagine the horrors the girls would come up with? I can, and it gives me the chills. Actually, it is probably worse imagining what all of those masses of teenaged girls are going to want to put you through. You had better have a plan for that ballot, Sir Seifer, because if you don’t figure one out I am pretty sure you’re in for it. If you die can I have some of your stuff?

Your concerned and caring,
Squall Leonhart

My Own Personal Hades, 230 Prospect Way, Balamb: February 13th,

To the excessively smug Sir Squall,

You win. Enough with the cutesy–pie nicknames. I give up and wave the white flag and other such displays of surrender.

I got all cozy with the Garden Festival chair. It wasn’t easy and I had to do a lot of stupid stuff to get on her good side, like agree to help decorate the ball room. It’s going to be nauseating: hearts and bows and frills and things. I’m just lucky she doesn’t want to drape me in all of that too, but the upshot of it is that I also have to create the ballots, so it will be quite simple to choose Fujin as my dancing partner. She hates dancing; no doubt she will scowl in the corner all evening because they’re making her wear a dress. Rajin has a crush on this girl named Ashley, I don’t know why; it’s a sickening name, Ashley. But anyway I will rig him up a ballot too. Hopefully then he’ll stop whingeing on about her.

This is all I have time for now because I have to get along with my many duties in preparation for the Festival of Freya. God this is awful.

With terror and disgust, the much put-upon,
S. Almasy

Kramer Orphanage, 432 Lakeview Drive, South Aegir: February 25th

To the Poor, Pathetic Slob, Seifer,

Hey Seifer, I hope you’re still alive. If not, send your gunblade here so I can use it on Selphie’s overly cheerful head. She somehow got ahold of your letter and suggested to Mrs. Kramer that we celebrate the Festival of Freya ourselves. The thought of bows and frills and pink fluffy things apparently appealed to her evil little soul.

Mrs. Kramer, who is normally a quite reasonable, level-headed woman with a good sense of style promptly went all girly at the mention of the festival and started making pink heart-shaped cake and red punch. The food was fine, but she made all of us dress up and learn dancing again. My leg is covered with bruises in the shape of Quistis’ feet. Eventually, I informed Zell that it was his turn and escaped to the lighthouse with a large piece of pink cake. Why are women like this? What appeals to them about bad music and lacy stuff? I am baffled and I expect you to do some kind of research to explain this to me.

I’m not sure whether or not to blame you for this unfortunate turn of events, but I think I’ll forgive you seeing as how you may have suffered far worse than I can imagine if your plan didn’t work. I know it has been awhile since the events of which I speak, but they are indelibly marked into my poor brain and also, perhaps, into my leg. Some of the bruises from Quistis’ new high heels still haven’t faded.

Painfully yours,
Squall Leonhart

Balamb Garden, 230 Prospect Way, Balamb: March 5th

Ha Ha Sucker,

Yeah, I know it’s cruel of me to rub it in like that, but seeing as how I suffered greatly as well, I felt that mocking you would help ease my pain.

So my plan failed. The tyrannical Garden Festival chair, Rachel, caught me with a ballot up my sleeve and made me put it back in with the rest. What’s worse is that Rajin managed to pull off his own ballot substitution and is now more soppy than ever over this Ashley character. This has made Fujin pouty and distraught and let me tell you, a pouty Fujin is an angry Fujin. She hates showing weakness. I’m getting a little ahead of myself, however. Let me go back to the beginning.

After spending all day setting up candles in the ball room and draping ugly frilly shit all over the room for hours (let me add that it is an enormous room) I headed to the first floor lobby for the Freya Festival dance draw. On my way out of the room, Rachel grabbed my arm in ecstasy and began rambling on and on about what an excellent job I’d done, but didn’t I think that maybe the potted trees would look lovely with little paper hearts dangling from their branches? (I didn’t because no way I wanted to see another heart for the rest of my life) And wasn’t I deathly excited about the whole wonderful dance? (I wasn’t. I would have been more excited if Dr Kadowaki had offered to remove portions of my anatomy, slowly, while I was conscious). Anyway, the ballot slipped out of my sleeve while she was nattering on and her face turned the same shade of fuchsia as one of the alternating colours of candles.

I ended up with a Rachel-shaped handprint on my face and a week of detention with the headmaster (starting the day after the dance unfortunately, not the day of). Apparently he is a sucker for weeping girls. I am not. That little twit Rachel landed me with a dance date with Ingrid Adelheid, the Ice Queen.

You’ve seen me dance, so you won’t be surprised that I ended up dripping festive punch. At least Ingrid went and found other guy to torment though. Actually, I think she ended up with one of the SeeDs who were supervising the ball. She’s an enterprising little thing, I will give her that. I hope she sucks the guy’s SeeD salary dry.

Also, for my detention I ended up cleaning up grat crap out of the Training Center. There is nothing more disgusting than grat crap, unless it’s T-Rexuar crap and I managed to find some of that too. I guess I’ll update you on the great epic of Rajin and Ashley in a few weeks time. I have to write a paper for Monster Studies now. I’m researching Tonberries and there isn’t anything in the school databases again so I have to go to the Balamb public library.

The deeply suffering, anguished,
S. Almasy

Kramer Orphanage, 432 Lakeview Drive, South Aegir: March 30th

To the Unfeeling Bastard, Seifer,

All right, you did suffer more than I did, I admit it. Still, show a guy a little compassion, can’t you? It sounds like you had a pretty miserable week or so there, still, it’s over now until next year anyway. What kind of an institution is Balamb anyway, tormenting its students like that? At least next year we can suffer together I suppose.

Everything is the same here. Mrs. Kramer is having us study a few bestiaries too so that we understand more about monsters. But when we aren’t doing that, Quistis and Selphie have begun to attempt to make me join in their games. They seem to think that just because I spend a lot of time by myself it means that I have nothing better to do. Being by myself is something to do in my opinion. I can do a lot of thinking by myself, you know. It’s productive. It is, really. Anyway, they try to make me play dollies, but they don’t like it when I make the dollies engage in mortal combat and challenge each other to duels to the death. Selphie cried when Molly delivered a lethal punch to Sally’s head, causing her to fly several feet in the air and die elaborately. They don’t make girls like they used to, I think. Mrs. Kramer has assigned me to washing the dishes for the next week.

I really miss you, you know.

Anyway, I’ve started hanging around with Irvine instead. He doesn’t seem to mind playing with the girls. He always makes the dolls kiss, which doesn’t cause too much of a fuss with the girls, but which I find rather suspicious behaviour. He seems to really enjoy it too.

Oh well. We’ve begun being desperate renegades, outlaws avoiding the law. This involves a lot of fake shooting. You know Irvine and his gun fetish. I don’t think much about Irvine is healthy actually. Heh. But now that I know about your gunblade I don’t mind Irvine’s obsession with guns so much. Tomorrow we have a shoot out scheduled with the local law enforcement. They have discovered that we’ve been stealing the local livestock for nefarious purposes or something and they’re angry. Irvine wouldn’t listen when I explained to him that most of the local livestock is fish. He is convinced that we are in cactuar country where herds of sheep and cattle are raised. It should be fun anyway, although not as fun as being Sorceress’ Knights. Irvine just doesn’t understand the importance of creating the proper atmosphere. He just wants to shoot at things.

Anyway, there’s nothing much else to report.

Your nearly catatonic friend,
Squall Leonhart

School of the Lovestruck, 230 Prospect Way, Balamb: April 15th

I’m so glad you’re still sane and so am I, Squall,

I have decided that love is a disease. It is on this note that I apologize for the lateness of my letter, but I’ve been dealing with a love leper every day and it grates on my nerves. Especially because I have to share a room with him I’ve been using every excuse I can to stay out of my room and away from my desk where I like to write my letters to you.

Okay, so it’s a weak excuse, so shoot me. Only, don’t take that literally please. You never know with someone who’s come under Irvine’s influence.

Right, so, it all began when I mistakenly assumed that rigging the ballot so that Rajin got to dance with this Ashley girl would cure him of his pining, but I turned out to be dreadfully wrong. During the dance he followed her around like a large, clumsy puppy dog, fetching her drinks and things, while she wandered off to talk with other guys. I tried to point out to Rajin that she wasn’t treating him very nicely and he turned several shades of purple and nearly strangled me to death. I’m tough, but even I can’t endure a surprise attack by a big angry guy like Rajin. So I apologized profusely (as much I could while I was dying) and after the air began entering my lungs properly again I waxed poetic about Ashley’s perfection for a few minutes and everything was fine. Except Rajin adores this stupid girl and she ignores him all the time, so he spends every evening in our dorm room moaning like a beached orca and composing awful poetry about his unrequited love.

Here is a sample, for your tormentation:

You’re eyes are krystle blue.
They make me cry, boo hoo
Because you never even look at me.
I swear I’m gonna die
If you won’t agree to be my
Beutiful and perfict sweetie.

Love, Rajin

Bad spelling and grammar aside it is still the most painful thing I have ever suffered.

I suppose I mentioned to you before that Fujin is also miserable because of this turn of events. I think she sort of had a crush on the big hulking guy. She isn’t talking to me now because she knew about our plans to set Rajin up with Ashley. So Fujin isn’t speaking to me and I wish by all that’s holy that Rajin wasn’t speaking to me. Man, it’s four and a half months till you get here, right?

You gotta help me now though. What can I do to stop Rajin chasing after this stupid girl? If I can think of a sneaky underhanded plan I can share it with Fujin and maybe she’ll start talking to me again.

Your desperate and harried comrade,
S. Almasy

Kramer Orphanage, 432 Lakeview Drive, South Aegir: April 28th

Dear Seifer, you poor, pathetic sod,

That’s pretty awful. I apologize for suggesting the initial plan to rig the ballot given all that it’s resulted in. Not that it was my fault you screwed up a perfectly decent plan, but still. I regret the consequences for your sake.

So if you’re sure you still want my help with another scheme, here is what I think you should do. Find out who Ashley likes and quietly let him know that she likes him, in such a way that Rajin can’t find out. It would only be doing him a kindness from what you’ve described anyway. No doubt once he discovers that his sweetie (oh man, gag) is with another guy even he can’t continue to ignore the situation. Now after that what you want to do is find some way of putting Rajin and Fujin into a situation that will foster some kind of romantic response. Since you’re a bigger girl than I am I will leave that up to you. Maybe you could set something up at that hotel you work at. Like maybe send them both anonymous notes to meet up there. I don’t know. It’s pretty weak, I admit, but you will have to flesh it out yourself. Selfie and Quistis are making me have a tea party with them and Mrs. Kramer has informed me in no uncertain terms that I have to join in and behave.

I’m almost relieved actually that they’re back to the kiddy games. Last week they were gushing over teen magazines and they made me do a quiz about my ideal boyfriend. That wasn’t even the worst of it though. After that Quistis sat on me while Selphie practiced make up techniques on my face with Mrs. Kramer’s stuff. Oh my god, it was so terrible. No guy should have to suffer through that ever.

Luckily for me they got in trouble for that one from Mrs. Kramer. She wasn’t impressed that they had been going through her things. She didn’t give a damn about my face. I swear, that woman can be heartless sometimes. This weekend she is taking the girls shopping for their own cosmetics and after that I guess I will be at their mercy. Maybe I can convince them to tackle Irvine. After all, he has longer hair. He’d make a perfect girl. Think they’ll go for that one?

Fear for my masculinity,
Squall Leonhart

Return to Archive | next | previous