Two Cids and a Sabin?
Feb. 1st, 2010 10:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Characters: Al-Cid, Cid Highwind and Sabin
Progress: Ongoing
Summary: Time to view some memories.
Location: Figaro Castle a la Memoria
Date: February 1
Warnings: None yet. Sabin can has tag?
There went Sabin's definition of a quiet morning. A pink fog had descended upon the city of Treno before enveloping the Prince in a blinding light. Eyes clamped shut to counter the brilliance before the light faded away. Whatever was going on left Sabin with a sense of bewilderment.
Cracking open a blue eye, the blond found himself facing a familiar coat of arms. Hell, everything about the stone walls, the art on the walls and the family tapestry was eerily familiar. Was this some sort of dream? It felt too real to be a dream as Sabin took a cautious step forward and noted every nook and crany that he'd ingrained into his memory. The way the rays of the sun hit the floor, the flowers indiginous to the area resting in an ornate vase on a carefully crafted table that had been passed down through the family for generations.
"Figaro?" Sabin whispered. "But how?"
Progress: Ongoing
Summary: Time to view some memories.
Location: Figaro Castle a la Memoria
Date: February 1
Warnings: None yet. Sabin can has tag?
There went Sabin's definition of a quiet morning. A pink fog had descended upon the city of Treno before enveloping the Prince in a blinding light. Eyes clamped shut to counter the brilliance before the light faded away. Whatever was going on left Sabin with a sense of bewilderment.
Cracking open a blue eye, the blond found himself facing a familiar coat of arms. Hell, everything about the stone walls, the art on the walls and the family tapestry was eerily familiar. Was this some sort of dream? It felt too real to be a dream as Sabin took a cautious step forward and noted every nook and crany that he'd ingrained into his memory. The way the rays of the sun hit the floor, the flowers indiginous to the area resting in an ornate vase on a carefully crafted table that had been passed down through the family for generations.
"Figaro?" Sabin whispered. "But how?"