Two Blurbs
Mar. 26th, 2007 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladybug_archiveBut first: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ps9b4uUVAE0 Crisis Core just got a million times more awesome! *____* **swings on virtual chandelier.** I adore pre-Nibelheim! I think I'm developing an obsession with that time period, as I have for the Star Wars prequels. XD **hasn't been this excited in a while.**
This is definitely a nice surprise after all the frustration I've been having with the mail lately. At the first of the month, I bought the Cloud figure. The company keeps having "shipping delays" and I'm getting irritated. They seem like an honest company, but I don't think I'll be buying from them again!
And the mailperson *again* delivered our neighbor's mail to us, while ours went who knows where! **almost hopes we didn't get any today, because of that.**
Anyway ... blurbs! I've been tinkering with them for the past few days, and I finally decided to go ahead and post them.
Sephiroth watched as the blond paced back and forth across the room like a caged animal. "Something's bothering you," he observed in a matter-of-fact tone.
"There isn't anything bothering me," Cloud snapped, looking to his hated nemesis with flashing eyes.
"I noticed it as soon as I got back."
Cloud snorted. "You don't know anything about me!" he burst out, stopping in front of the other. "You can't have noticed anything that's really true! And as for you, oh yeah, you 'got back'. From where? Hell?" He leaned forward, placing his hands on the arms of the chair Sephiroth was sitting in, and stared angrily into the cool green eyes that looked back at him. The older man's attitude infuriated him all the more.
"Where do you think I was?" Sephiroth retorted.
"Well, that'd be my first guess, only I know you weren't dead," Cloud answered sarcastically as he straightened up. He half-turned, crossing his arms and gripping them tightly. "You were watching me, right before you left. I felt your eyes on me, but when I looked around, you weren't there."
Sephiroth leaned back. "Yes," he admitted.
Cloud turned to face him again. "You just disappeared after that fight with Jenova!" he said, his voice rising. "Everyone thought you were dead, but you weren't, and you just picked up and left things like that!"
"You think I should have come and told them that I wasn't killed?" He leaned on the table that was next to the chair. "It would have been presumptuous."
"Oh sure, but you hung around spying on me!"
Sephiroth was silent for a moment. "If you knew then that I was alive, and that I was going to leave, why didn't you seek me out and try to stop me, if it bothered you so much?"
Cloud stared at him in shock, his eyes widening. Then they narrowed again, filling with outrage and incredulity. "If it bothered me?!" he shot back. "No one cared if you left! If they'd known you were alive, and going away, they wouldn't have cared! And I cared least of all!"
"Aren't you overreacting, if you don't care?" Sephiroth stood up, walking over to him.
Cloud glowered, looking up at him. All of his confusion, all of the frustration and the anger he had felt, were suddenly spilling out. He had kept it bottled up since Sephiroth had vanished, not even knowing why it upset him so much. And he still did not know entirely. But he was getting a better idea.
"You . . . you're always butting into my life!" he screamed. "You go away for a while, then you come back again! I can never be free of you! When you left back then, I knew you'd show up again before too long! You . . . you can't ever just stay dead!"
Sephiroth looked more amused than anything else. "Honestly, Cloud . . . it wouldn't matter what state I was in. Even if I was dead, I would still haunt you. And it wouldn't have to be that I would be trying to. It would just be your own mindset."
Cloud hated when Sephiroth was right. Whatever he had been doing during his absence, it had given him back some more of the personality Cloud remembered too well---the dark amusement, the arrogance, the sarcasm. . . . And of course, he was certain that he knew what was going on in Cloud's mind.
The blond leaned forward, gripping his knees as he rested his chin against them. "Yeah," he muttered, staring ahead at the glistening walls of the cave, "you always have to be right." Sephiroth was haunting him, just as he had promised.
"Why didn't you seek me out and try to stop me, if it bothered you so much?"
He snorted. "Why didn't I? I was frozen to the spot."
He was not answering Sephiroth's original question at all. He was not even thinking of the near-encounter of which his arch-enemy had been speaking.
Cloud was helpless, frozen to the spot as Jenova worked her dark magic. It would only take several seconds for Sephiroth to be completely encased in the life-extinguishing stone, but for him it would feel like an eternity. The agony in his eyes as his legs and torso were covered was obvious. Desperately he clawed at nothing, panic-stricken. He did not want to die, not like this. He would suffocate in the most horrifying way Cloud could think of. And even though they were mortal enemies, it was too awful to imagine. Cloud did not want Sephiroth to suffer like that.
The other focused on him, trembling, his hands freezing into place as they were still tearing at nothing. "Cloud, help me!" he cried out. His scream died as the stone finished its assault. Now all that looked back at Cloud were dead eyes. Dead eyes caught for eternity in their wide, pleading stare.
He started awake, breathing heavily. His hair was plastered against his face and neck, and his shirt clung to his torso, damp from the cold sweat. He could tell that his body felt kinked and twisted from the odd position in which he had been sleeping.
Slowly he pushed himself back from where he had laid his head on the edge of the bed. He rubbed at his neck, staring idly back at the furniture. Another nightmare. . . . And a foolish, untrue one at that.
The thought of Sephiroth ever actually pleading for anyone's assistance was absurd. It would never happen. He was too proud. The only reason Cloud had dreamed it, he supposed, was because of his own feelings of blaming himself for what had happened. He had felt that he should have helped Sephiroth, even though at that point he could not have done anything.
Sephiroth was fine now, or at least, he was free. He was laying in the bed Cloud was sitting next to, mostly on his back, but partially on his side. He was turned away from the other, his long hair spread out on the mattress and somewhat on the quilt. He was breathing quietly, slightly slower than normal, but still, he was breathing.
Cloud muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes.
"Cloud? He's going to be okay."
He started, looking up and over his shoulder. Tifa was standing in the doorway, looking concerned herself---but about Cloud, not Sephiroth.
Cloud looked away. "I'm not worried about him," he grumbled. "I just . . . sat here a minute and fell asleep."
He glanced back to the older man, but continued to speak to Tifa. "But how do you know he'll be fine, anyway?" he muttered. "No one's ever survived being turned into a statue before." Not that he was a great expert on the subject; he had never seen anyone encased in stone until several weeks ago, nor had he ever seen anyone released from such a state until earlier that night. To him, it did not sound logical that anyone could survive. Yet the proof was laying in front of him.
Tifa shrugged helplessly. "Shera thinks his vitals are coming back to normal," she replied. "She said it was like he'd been in a state of suspended animation, and while he'll be weak for a few days, he'll recover."
Cloud crossed his arms. "He said he was aware enough to be able to think . . . to know that he was trapped. . . ."
Tifa bit her lip. "That's awful," she said softly.
"He figured he'd never be free . . . that even if someone knew how to help him, they wouldn't want to, and they wouldn't think he deserved it." He paused. "Not that he did. . . ."
Tifa sighed. "No matter what you think of him, I know you didn't want him to be in that condition, Cloud."
Cloud slumped back, gazing at his hated nemesis. "Yeah . . . I guess . . . I didn't."
Tifa smiled a bit. For Cloud to actually, finally admit it aloud, a change had definitely come over him. And it was very welcome. Maybe she would not have to worry about him as much. "You've been different since you came back with him," she commented. "Almost like you're at peace." She paused. "I don't feel that hatred coming from you any more, Cloud. . . ."
"I still hate him," he answered quickly. But he could also feel that it had subsided and that it did not have a firm grip on his heart right now. He remembered what Aerith had said, that maybe he had taken the first step toward being able to not loathe Sephiroth. He had scoffed at the time, and when the other had finally been released, but on the ride home, he had felt a change working within him. For the first time since regaining his memories, he found that maybe he could fully accept that this was not the man who had committed those abominations. In other circumstances, they might have been friends.
. . . In other circumstances, they had been friends, he corrected himself with a frown. But Jenova Corp seemed so long ago now. . . . They could never go back to that, or the relationship they had shared then.
"Yeah. . . ." Tifa turned to go. "Try to get some sleep, Cloud, in a real bed. You really don't have to sit up watching over him all night. You know that there's almost always someone awake around here."
Cloud yawned suddenly. Sleep did sound like a good idea. So did a bed.
****
It was always so cold. So cold and filled with nothing. He could feel it against his bare chest, but even though he longed to be able to reach and pull his coat close around him, he knew it would not help. The chill had permeated all the way through his skin, to his blood and bones.
Sometimes he wondered if his heart was still beating. It seemed that it could not be, that it must be frozen too, but that would not be possible. Unless death was so much different than he had experienced in the past. Maybe now, now he was being punished for his heinous misdeeds. Maybe this was what Hell truly was.
At other times he thought he could still feel the gentle thump of his heart. To feel . . . that was the only sensation he had left. He was blind, he was deaf, he could not speak. He could not scream for help, not that he deserved it the first place, and not that anyone would come. And not that he would ever stoop to begging. But that did not mean that he did not still wish for assistance anyway. Getting free was not something he could do by himself.
His body often ached. He was aware that he was frozen in place, and at times he was awake enough to long more than anything to be able to move, to bring his arms down, to collapse into a soft bed. But he could do nothing.
His thoughts wandered most of the time. Just about all he was capable of was thinking, but that was not a very pleasant experience either. Over and over his treacherous acts would play before his mind's eye, until he felt that he would go mad once again. Then he would hope to be able to sink back into complete oblivion. Sometimes he would, but at other times he would remain conscious for what seemed to be hours on end.
He had to admit, he was not certain if even he was ready to face an eternity of this.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. For a long moment he gazed up at the ceiling, as his breathing and heartrate slowed back to normal. Was he actually looking up at the top of the room? Was this real, and not another of the dreams he had had about finally being free? He had experienced so many of those, only to awaken still trapped in his prison. It would seem strange to anyone else, that being able to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling was a relief.
He threw the covers back, looking down at himself. He was able to move again, to see, to touch. . . . The stone was no longer encasing his body in its icy atmosphere. After what he had experienced, it seemed too incredible to be true.
And to think it was because of Cloud. . . .
He was not certain what he would have thought of that in the past, whether he would have been grateful, or if instead he would have been spiteful and disgusted. As he was now, he honestly did not hate Cloud, nor was he angry at the other for defeating him those times in the past. He was only furious at himself for falling into the darkness. And he felt humbled that Cloud would actually care enough to release him, in spite of his continuing feelings of loathing for the older man.
The sound of soft breathing to his left caused him to turn and look in that direction. He blinked when he saw the blond slumped over the bed, his upper body laying on it while the rest was still in a chair. The younger man looked extremely uncomfortable, but he was too exhausted to notice.
"He's been so tired lately. . . ."
He looked up with a start. Tifa had entered the room and now was approaching Cloud's chair. Gently she draped a throw around the sleeping spiky-haired young man. She was smiling softly in a wistful way, and now she looked over to the one who was watching her actions. Her eyes held no hatred or contempt, and actually, she seemed relieved. He studied her questioningly.
"It's strange," she mused now, "that it was because of you he was worrying so much. And freeing you gave him peace."
He stared at her in amazement. "He . . . he was worried about me?" he said at last.
"Not that he'd ever admit it," Tifa added, "but I'd say it's pretty obvious that he was. He wanted to help you, even though he couldn't understand why."
Sephiroth looked away, not caring to speak of this with her. "I'm grateful, but you don't have to keep me here out of courtesy," he said now. It was his manor that everyone was staying at. He had told Cloud in the past that he should go ahead and keep it, that the others might as well stay there, that he himself had no use for it. As far as he knew, Cloud had opted to continue working at the company, using its resources to assist him and the others in their quest. Sephiroth had left shortly afterward, feeling that it would be better if he did not remain. He was not even sure why he had come back.
Tifa especially, more than some of the others, had a good reason to despise and loathe Sephiroth. He would not have been surprised in the least if she wanted him thrown out now, but instead she was being civil, and he had seen from her eyes that she did not hate him. That still amazed him, and he supposed that he had not fully become aware of it before now.
Tifa was silent, collecting her thoughts. At last she walked around to the other side of the bed, hesitantly laying a hand on his bare shoulder. His skin felt cool underneath her fingers, almost icy after his experience, and she stifled a shudder. What had he suffered all that time? Would he ever feel warm again? Though she had managed to put her feelings of loathing behind her, he was still not one of her favorite people. But she was aghast at what he must have gone through.
"You needed help," she said simply, and swallowed hard. "I . . . I know you're not the man you were in the past."
This is definitely a nice surprise after all the frustration I've been having with the mail lately. At the first of the month, I bought the Cloud figure. The company keeps having "shipping delays" and I'm getting irritated. They seem like an honest company, but I don't think I'll be buying from them again!
And the mailperson *again* delivered our neighbor's mail to us, while ours went who knows where! **almost hopes we didn't get any today, because of that.**
Anyway ... blurbs! I've been tinkering with them for the past few days, and I finally decided to go ahead and post them.
Sephiroth watched as the blond paced back and forth across the room like a caged animal. "Something's bothering you," he observed in a matter-of-fact tone.
"There isn't anything bothering me," Cloud snapped, looking to his hated nemesis with flashing eyes.
"I noticed it as soon as I got back."
Cloud snorted. "You don't know anything about me!" he burst out, stopping in front of the other. "You can't have noticed anything that's really true! And as for you, oh yeah, you 'got back'. From where? Hell?" He leaned forward, placing his hands on the arms of the chair Sephiroth was sitting in, and stared angrily into the cool green eyes that looked back at him. The older man's attitude infuriated him all the more.
"Where do you think I was?" Sephiroth retorted.
"Well, that'd be my first guess, only I know you weren't dead," Cloud answered sarcastically as he straightened up. He half-turned, crossing his arms and gripping them tightly. "You were watching me, right before you left. I felt your eyes on me, but when I looked around, you weren't there."
Sephiroth leaned back. "Yes," he admitted.
Cloud turned to face him again. "You just disappeared after that fight with Jenova!" he said, his voice rising. "Everyone thought you were dead, but you weren't, and you just picked up and left things like that!"
"You think I should have come and told them that I wasn't killed?" He leaned on the table that was next to the chair. "It would have been presumptuous."
"Oh sure, but you hung around spying on me!"
Sephiroth was silent for a moment. "If you knew then that I was alive, and that I was going to leave, why didn't you seek me out and try to stop me, if it bothered you so much?"
Cloud stared at him in shock, his eyes widening. Then they narrowed again, filling with outrage and incredulity. "If it bothered me?!" he shot back. "No one cared if you left! If they'd known you were alive, and going away, they wouldn't have cared! And I cared least of all!"
"Aren't you overreacting, if you don't care?" Sephiroth stood up, walking over to him.
Cloud glowered, looking up at him. All of his confusion, all of the frustration and the anger he had felt, were suddenly spilling out. He had kept it bottled up since Sephiroth had vanished, not even knowing why it upset him so much. And he still did not know entirely. But he was getting a better idea.
"You . . . you're always butting into my life!" he screamed. "You go away for a while, then you come back again! I can never be free of you! When you left back then, I knew you'd show up again before too long! You . . . you can't ever just stay dead!"
Sephiroth looked more amused than anything else. "Honestly, Cloud . . . it wouldn't matter what state I was in. Even if I was dead, I would still haunt you. And it wouldn't have to be that I would be trying to. It would just be your own mindset."
Cloud hated when Sephiroth was right. Whatever he had been doing during his absence, it had given him back some more of the personality Cloud remembered too well---the dark amusement, the arrogance, the sarcasm. . . . And of course, he was certain that he knew what was going on in Cloud's mind.
The blond leaned forward, gripping his knees as he rested his chin against them. "Yeah," he muttered, staring ahead at the glistening walls of the cave, "you always have to be right." Sephiroth was haunting him, just as he had promised.
"Why didn't you seek me out and try to stop me, if it bothered you so much?"
He snorted. "Why didn't I? I was frozen to the spot."
He was not answering Sephiroth's original question at all. He was not even thinking of the near-encounter of which his arch-enemy had been speaking.
Cloud was helpless, frozen to the spot as Jenova worked her dark magic. It would only take several seconds for Sephiroth to be completely encased in the life-extinguishing stone, but for him it would feel like an eternity. The agony in his eyes as his legs and torso were covered was obvious. Desperately he clawed at nothing, panic-stricken. He did not want to die, not like this. He would suffocate in the most horrifying way Cloud could think of. And even though they were mortal enemies, it was too awful to imagine. Cloud did not want Sephiroth to suffer like that.
The other focused on him, trembling, his hands freezing into place as they were still tearing at nothing. "Cloud, help me!" he cried out. His scream died as the stone finished its assault. Now all that looked back at Cloud were dead eyes. Dead eyes caught for eternity in their wide, pleading stare.
He started awake, breathing heavily. His hair was plastered against his face and neck, and his shirt clung to his torso, damp from the cold sweat. He could tell that his body felt kinked and twisted from the odd position in which he had been sleeping.
Slowly he pushed himself back from where he had laid his head on the edge of the bed. He rubbed at his neck, staring idly back at the furniture. Another nightmare. . . . And a foolish, untrue one at that.
The thought of Sephiroth ever actually pleading for anyone's assistance was absurd. It would never happen. He was too proud. The only reason Cloud had dreamed it, he supposed, was because of his own feelings of blaming himself for what had happened. He had felt that he should have helped Sephiroth, even though at that point he could not have done anything.
Sephiroth was fine now, or at least, he was free. He was laying in the bed Cloud was sitting next to, mostly on his back, but partially on his side. He was turned away from the other, his long hair spread out on the mattress and somewhat on the quilt. He was breathing quietly, slightly slower than normal, but still, he was breathing.
Cloud muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes.
"Cloud? He's going to be okay."
He started, looking up and over his shoulder. Tifa was standing in the doorway, looking concerned herself---but about Cloud, not Sephiroth.
Cloud looked away. "I'm not worried about him," he grumbled. "I just . . . sat here a minute and fell asleep."
He glanced back to the older man, but continued to speak to Tifa. "But how do you know he'll be fine, anyway?" he muttered. "No one's ever survived being turned into a statue before." Not that he was a great expert on the subject; he had never seen anyone encased in stone until several weeks ago, nor had he ever seen anyone released from such a state until earlier that night. To him, it did not sound logical that anyone could survive. Yet the proof was laying in front of him.
Tifa shrugged helplessly. "Shera thinks his vitals are coming back to normal," she replied. "She said it was like he'd been in a state of suspended animation, and while he'll be weak for a few days, he'll recover."
Cloud crossed his arms. "He said he was aware enough to be able to think . . . to know that he was trapped. . . ."
Tifa bit her lip. "That's awful," she said softly.
"He figured he'd never be free . . . that even if someone knew how to help him, they wouldn't want to, and they wouldn't think he deserved it." He paused. "Not that he did. . . ."
Tifa sighed. "No matter what you think of him, I know you didn't want him to be in that condition, Cloud."
Cloud slumped back, gazing at his hated nemesis. "Yeah . . . I guess . . . I didn't."
Tifa smiled a bit. For Cloud to actually, finally admit it aloud, a change had definitely come over him. And it was very welcome. Maybe she would not have to worry about him as much. "You've been different since you came back with him," she commented. "Almost like you're at peace." She paused. "I don't feel that hatred coming from you any more, Cloud. . . ."
"I still hate him," he answered quickly. But he could also feel that it had subsided and that it did not have a firm grip on his heart right now. He remembered what Aerith had said, that maybe he had taken the first step toward being able to not loathe Sephiroth. He had scoffed at the time, and when the other had finally been released, but on the ride home, he had felt a change working within him. For the first time since regaining his memories, he found that maybe he could fully accept that this was not the man who had committed those abominations. In other circumstances, they might have been friends.
. . . In other circumstances, they had been friends, he corrected himself with a frown. But Jenova Corp seemed so long ago now. . . . They could never go back to that, or the relationship they had shared then.
"Yeah. . . ." Tifa turned to go. "Try to get some sleep, Cloud, in a real bed. You really don't have to sit up watching over him all night. You know that there's almost always someone awake around here."
Cloud yawned suddenly. Sleep did sound like a good idea. So did a bed.
****
It was always so cold. So cold and filled with nothing. He could feel it against his bare chest, but even though he longed to be able to reach and pull his coat close around him, he knew it would not help. The chill had permeated all the way through his skin, to his blood and bones.
Sometimes he wondered if his heart was still beating. It seemed that it could not be, that it must be frozen too, but that would not be possible. Unless death was so much different than he had experienced in the past. Maybe now, now he was being punished for his heinous misdeeds. Maybe this was what Hell truly was.
At other times he thought he could still feel the gentle thump of his heart. To feel . . . that was the only sensation he had left. He was blind, he was deaf, he could not speak. He could not scream for help, not that he deserved it the first place, and not that anyone would come. And not that he would ever stoop to begging. But that did not mean that he did not still wish for assistance anyway. Getting free was not something he could do by himself.
His body often ached. He was aware that he was frozen in place, and at times he was awake enough to long more than anything to be able to move, to bring his arms down, to collapse into a soft bed. But he could do nothing.
His thoughts wandered most of the time. Just about all he was capable of was thinking, but that was not a very pleasant experience either. Over and over his treacherous acts would play before his mind's eye, until he felt that he would go mad once again. Then he would hope to be able to sink back into complete oblivion. Sometimes he would, but at other times he would remain conscious for what seemed to be hours on end.
He had to admit, he was not certain if even he was ready to face an eternity of this.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. For a long moment he gazed up at the ceiling, as his breathing and heartrate slowed back to normal. Was he actually looking up at the top of the room? Was this real, and not another of the dreams he had had about finally being free? He had experienced so many of those, only to awaken still trapped in his prison. It would seem strange to anyone else, that being able to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling was a relief.
He threw the covers back, looking down at himself. He was able to move again, to see, to touch. . . . The stone was no longer encasing his body in its icy atmosphere. After what he had experienced, it seemed too incredible to be true.
And to think it was because of Cloud. . . .
He was not certain what he would have thought of that in the past, whether he would have been grateful, or if instead he would have been spiteful and disgusted. As he was now, he honestly did not hate Cloud, nor was he angry at the other for defeating him those times in the past. He was only furious at himself for falling into the darkness. And he felt humbled that Cloud would actually care enough to release him, in spite of his continuing feelings of loathing for the older man.
The sound of soft breathing to his left caused him to turn and look in that direction. He blinked when he saw the blond slumped over the bed, his upper body laying on it while the rest was still in a chair. The younger man looked extremely uncomfortable, but he was too exhausted to notice.
"He's been so tired lately. . . ."
He looked up with a start. Tifa had entered the room and now was approaching Cloud's chair. Gently she draped a throw around the sleeping spiky-haired young man. She was smiling softly in a wistful way, and now she looked over to the one who was watching her actions. Her eyes held no hatred or contempt, and actually, she seemed relieved. He studied her questioningly.
"It's strange," she mused now, "that it was because of you he was worrying so much. And freeing you gave him peace."
He stared at her in amazement. "He . . . he was worried about me?" he said at last.
"Not that he'd ever admit it," Tifa added, "but I'd say it's pretty obvious that he was. He wanted to help you, even though he couldn't understand why."
Sephiroth looked away, not caring to speak of this with her. "I'm grateful, but you don't have to keep me here out of courtesy," he said now. It was his manor that everyone was staying at. He had told Cloud in the past that he should go ahead and keep it, that the others might as well stay there, that he himself had no use for it. As far as he knew, Cloud had opted to continue working at the company, using its resources to assist him and the others in their quest. Sephiroth had left shortly afterward, feeling that it would be better if he did not remain. He was not even sure why he had come back.
Tifa especially, more than some of the others, had a good reason to despise and loathe Sephiroth. He would not have been surprised in the least if she wanted him thrown out now, but instead she was being civil, and he had seen from her eyes that she did not hate him. That still amazed him, and he supposed that he had not fully become aware of it before now.
Tifa was silent, collecting her thoughts. At last she walked around to the other side of the bed, hesitantly laying a hand on his bare shoulder. His skin felt cool underneath her fingers, almost icy after his experience, and she stifled a shudder. What had he suffered all that time? Would he ever feel warm again? Though she had managed to put her feelings of loathing behind her, he was still not one of her favorite people. But she was aghast at what he must have gone through.
"You needed help," she said simply, and swallowed hard. "I . . . I know you're not the man you were in the past."
