disclaimer: FF8 is not mine.

a thousand dead stars

...

Sometimes there are old castles with high pillars and towers protruding the sky, and sometimes there will be menacing gargoyles with dead eyes probing the floors and walls. She will ghost through the empty hallways and glance around her surroundings, finding picturesque paintings and portraits of unknown people, not daubed with dust, not yellow with age, simply frozen in time. She will shift her gaze outside the high windows and find herself drowning in silky blues, and then flutter and drift away into another sky.

Sometimes there's a nice little village where friendly people live, people who know each other and have sun smiles. There will be so much mirth and many songs and never dirges. She will come down and sit amongst them, smile and laugh like they do. But no one sees, no one pats her back or jokes with her, no one gives her a side glance or a lopsided grin, but she continues smiling her ghost-smile nonetheless, white and translucent. And she will drift like the smoke made by their campfire, dissipate as if she was never there.

Sometimes she just watches the city bustling with activity and verve, watches as cars run through tubes and things disappear in red blocks of light. She will see the sun rise and fall, and notice that the city never sleeps. A sad sigh escapes her lips just before she steps on one of the platforms, yet it stays unresponsive and doesn't engulf her with blinding light… but still she disappears.

Sometimes there are things she doesn't want to see. Things like burning houses and agonized screams and tears. There will be so much blood, so many dying people, and she'll try to help, but all she can taste and feel and touch is nothingness, as delicate and elusive as gossamer wings of a dragonfly, slowly falling and burning away in the dry and crisp pressure of oblivion.

Sometimes there will be a vast flower field and endless sky and rolling clouds. There will be someone standing alone, waiting for something to happen. She will shout his name and fly toward him with arms stretched wide, only to go through him falling on the flower buds. They don't get trampled under her weight—still nodding lazily in the summer breeze she can't feel—but the ground beneath her gives away. And swallows her whole.

Sometimes she will find herself among the stars, and there will be no more people or places or worlds.

Simply the echo of silence, and darkness.

...

a/n: I originally wanted to put this as the fourth installment of "afterglow", but I think it's better as a one-shot. Written about a month ago but never got around to posting it... I should stop being lazy.
This was inspired by the theme "a thousand years" at drabble365days, and as you can see, this fic is about Rinoa and the vastness of her Sorcerer power, and what it can possibly do. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. :)

Thanks for reading and feedback would be greatly appreciated!