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He moves with the grace of a wildcat, and even the boldest of students step out of his path. When he moves, he towers above the crowd--it isn't simply because he is tall, it is because he bears that sort of presence that would make the stars seem dull in comparison. He's a legend. Shocking blond hair and eyes so cold they burn. It's no surprise that he has a massive ego. His perfect shoulders would have no trouble supporting its weight underneath that grey coat. That ego might be his only flaw, if one did not look too hard. The scar simply suited him; it was easy to overlook. It fit the visage of a warrior.
He's beautiful, like a bird of prey. Fierce and stunning and altogether powerful. He would be a shoe-in for SeeD if he tried just a little harder. It's his ego--he does not care about SeeD, does not care about the fate of Garden, simply because if he wanted it, someone would give him the world on a silver platter. He probably wouldn't even have to raise a hand to request it. Amazing. Grace and skill and pure talent inside a perfect form. He never moves awkwardly--it's as if he's floating above the ground. The silvery leather trails out behind him like wings.
That young man could probably fly if he wanted to.
His presence when he enters a room is impossible to ignore. He fills the doorway, his long limbs steady and sure, and with a single chilly look out of those eyes, he can make the entire Garden either adore him or fear him. Most of the time, it's a mixture of both.
That effortless grace with which he walks! Clouds, probably the kind that gather almost imperceptibly as the harbingers of a violent storm, must gather beneath his Garden-issue boots and carry him like Zeus to anywhere he desires.
He's a knight.
Practically a god.
Green slivers stare, penetrating, freezing, burning. He may have the temperament of a roaring inferno, but bitter winter can burn just as badly.
He doesn't talk about his past. He doesn't see a reason to. He's as silent as the calm before the storm if the issue is ever raised.
Otherwise, he boasts. He jests. He insults and is flippant, egotistical. He's a ladies' man, an incorrigible student who is fond of cards and beer and weaponry. A trash-talker, and a Balamb-certified "lost cause."
He is a warrior, and he would make a fantastic SeeD if he was willing to try.
That damn ego. When it got paired up with a warrior's will, he was unstoppable. In the halls, stretched out across three terminals in the back of a classroom, even when his words are nasty and cruel, he is beautiful. He's a bird of prey, a falcon, an eagle. He'd fly to the top if he just gave a damn.
He's rude. He's arrogant. He's cruel and selfish.
He is an enigma wrapped up in silver and black and blue. Those beneath him live in awe or fear--or both--of the proud knight, and those above him had all but given up hope that he would ever be something. Instructors were either too afraid of provoking his temper or too jaded to know what to do with him. Almost all of the Instructors had written him off as hopeless in the fields of academia.
"Almasy, get your feet off the terminal and pay attention."
He could soar to the heavens if he wanted to. Given half a chance, he would probably be able to bend even the nastiest of hurricanes to his will.
He's lucky that she has always been fond of storms.