Another blurb.
Oct. 29th, 2007 08:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladybug_archiveStill haven't gotten this out of my system yet, so here's another reworking of the RP events, this time with Cloud and Seph in a South American building/pyramid thing. Cloud's reaction seems to differ based on whether he actually sees Seph die or else just wakes up to find Seph laying dead. **likes experimenting.**
Waking up was completely unpleasant. The headache washed over him almost instantaneously and with insistence, and he could not help grimacing as his eyes opened. His body was throbbing all over, but he was free. The falling ceiling and whatever else had missed him. The dust, however, hung in the air. As soon as his lips parted the slightest amount, he choked and coughed.
The musty and debris-ridden smell was wafting throughout the room. As his eyes adjusted to the near darkness, he could look upward through the descended ceiling and see parts of the next level. Creepy statues of monsters sticking out their tongues were visible, too. Well, their vague silhouettes. He could imagine what they looked like, judging from the ones he had already seen below. And that was not really what he had wanted to be greeted by. Who in their right mind would want to carve ugly things like that?
Memories began to flood back. He had been possessed by Gunju Rakesh. He had been struggling for control. He had been battling so hard for it, but all in vain. It was not something he could gain all on his own. Instead, he had fought Sephiroth for that amethyst thing. And he had almost gotten it, not caring as the stupid thing had started to have a heart attack. But Sephiroth had wrenched it away again, trying to both extend his own energy to calm it and to use it to free Cloud's mind. It had done that, at least. Gunju had screamed in rage as he been thrust out. But the dumb thing had not calmed down. The whole building had started to shake. . . . And they had been trapped in this room. . . .
Blue eyes widened. "Sephiroth," he choked out, forcing himself upright. His body screamed in indignation, but he ignored it. "Sephiroth, where are you?" His voice echoed off the old stone walls with an eerie quality that disturbed even him. This place was so much like a tomb or something. Zack would tell him that was much too morbid of a thought. In fact, where was he? Had he ever found his way into this weird maze-like structure? And Angeal should be with him. . . . What if they were hurt?
He turned his body to face the other direction. In the near-pitch blackness, he could reach out and touch pieces of stone ceiling, beams, even a statue or two that had shattered from the impact. His hands traveled further, finding more of the same. And something soft was under his fingers, too---large disembodied growths that could be feathers torn free. He swallowed down the alarm in his throat.
Here was something else, completely different from everything else he had found. This was not hard like stone, even though it was smooth. It was not jagged and torn, as was all the debris around him. And it did not feel like dust particles. It was cold and clammy and . . .
He stiffened. It was a human hand.
His fingers closed around it. It was larger than his own, and entirely still. There was not a pulse. Yet he gripped it a moment longer, out of some vain hope that there would be a response. This . . . this could only be . . . but it could not. Maybe it was that creep Dalton. He could have found them again, couldn't he? That still would not answer where Sephiroth was, but . . . there were passages and staircases all over this place. He could have tumbled down one of them and be laying unconscious at the bottom. . . . Just unconscious. . . .
His other hand traveled up the muscular arm, coming to the strong yet limp shoulder. Long locks of hair fell over his hand, chilling him as they did. He jerked his appendage back, shaking. Then, slowly, he reached out again, laying his hand on top of the hair. There were pieces of stone and dust caught within it. Sephiroth could get them out himself, once he woke up.
He moved his hand away, taking it in the direction where the man's face should be. There was no hint of breath.
Panic overwhelmed him. This could not be. This was not what had been supposed to have happened. He returned to the shoulder, gripping at it in his hand. "Sephiroth! Wake up!" His screams cut through the silence, ricocheting many times off the walls and fading into the distance. It seemed he barely noticed, yet somehow he was altogether aware of it. He shook the other with furious vigor, but there was no response. And from the way the body hardly moved under his grasp, it was obvious that most of it was pinned by the cave-in. Only the head and arms, and the black wing, were at least somewhat free---though some of the debris had fallen over both the right arm and that wing.
He let go, clawing into the stone with his bare hands. There was so much of it . . . so many pieces. . . . He took hold of one, throwing it to the side. Then he seized another, heaving it in the opposite direction. It smashed into the wall with a sickening crack. But he was already diving for the third. He worked at this almost mechanically---grabbing sections and hauling them away, breathing heavily from the task. He could not stop or rest.
Here were the white wings. He could feel them here, underneath what he had just cleared away. And in the vague light, their color stood out against everything else. He reached out, brushing them down as particles rained onto the stone floor. It was a good thing Sephiroth had that kilt-like thing for clothing, at least. . . .
He pushed the form onto its back, letting it fall limply into position. Then he bent down, pressing his ear to the cold chest. There had to be something. Some breath or some heartbeat that was really hard to detect. . . . Nothing.
A hand shot out, taking hold of Sephiroth's jaw and prying it open. He moved over, positioning himself as he leaned to place his mouth over his former enemy's. When this was all said and done, and Sephiroth was awake, Cloud would be wiping his mouth and possibly feeling repulsed by the necessary actions. But right now it was not a consideration.
He forced air into the stilled lungs with all his might. The chest only rose for as long as the borrowed breath lasted, and then was silent again. But Cloud was insistent. For the next indeterminable length of time, the scenario repeated horribly, painfully.
Until at last the blond leaned back, trembling, a mixture of frustration, disbelief, and sick realization passing over his features. He slammed a sore hand onto the stones upon which he was kneeling. "You weren't supposed to die!" he screamed, nearly rendering himself hoarse as his throat burned. "You weren't supposed to . . ." His voice trailed off into hopelessness.
Something wet and cold slipped down his cheek. He froze, shakily reaching to his face to touch the drop. A . . . a tear? He would cry . . . over Sephiroth? Someone he had hated for so long before letting go of it? Someone he had once both loved and idolized? Someone he had loved again, as his friend. . . .
Or was he crying out of sheer despair and helplessness, because of his inability to prevent this? Because it was his fault that it had happened. . . .
When all had started to collapse around them, and their only visible exit had been blocked, he had looked over at Sephiroth, demanding to know why he had taken such a risk and used the amethyst. The other had given him a cold look in reply.
"You would have been a threat to not only myself, but Zack and Angeal as well," he had said. "The foreign presence had to be removed."
"Yeah, well, thanks a lot!" Cloud had snapped. "Now we'll both probably be killed!" But in his heart he had known Sephiroth had done what had to be. It had been the only possible way to give him the assistance he had needed to force out Gunju's spirit. And . . . and . . . the amethyst had first started to go nuts when Cloud had been holding it. If he had not gotten it, would it have acted like that?
Sephiroth had only smirked grimly, spreading his seven wings as the ceiling caved. "Maybe not," he had said.
That was the last Cloud remembered. Something hard had whacked him over the head, obviously a piece of ceiling, or maybe even a small statue.
He had not understood Sephiroth's last words and actions then, but he did now. Sephiroth had determined that one of them would get out alive, even if both could not. He had shielded Cloud with his wings to preserve his life. And his own was now forfeit. Not even being in the modified Safer form had saved him.
Shakily Cloud reached out again, laying his hand on the long silver locks. With careful movements, he began to pick out the stone and dust. Sephiroth never could stand for anything foreign in his hair. And now he could not remove the stuff himself.
When the task was finished, Cloud drew his knees up to his chest and clutched at them as he buried his face. For the first time in ages, he let himself cry like a child.
Waking up was completely unpleasant. The headache washed over him almost instantaneously and with insistence, and he could not help grimacing as his eyes opened. His body was throbbing all over, but he was free. The falling ceiling and whatever else had missed him. The dust, however, hung in the air. As soon as his lips parted the slightest amount, he choked and coughed.
The musty and debris-ridden smell was wafting throughout the room. As his eyes adjusted to the near darkness, he could look upward through the descended ceiling and see parts of the next level. Creepy statues of monsters sticking out their tongues were visible, too. Well, their vague silhouettes. He could imagine what they looked like, judging from the ones he had already seen below. And that was not really what he had wanted to be greeted by. Who in their right mind would want to carve ugly things like that?
Memories began to flood back. He had been possessed by Gunju Rakesh. He had been struggling for control. He had been battling so hard for it, but all in vain. It was not something he could gain all on his own. Instead, he had fought Sephiroth for that amethyst thing. And he had almost gotten it, not caring as the stupid thing had started to have a heart attack. But Sephiroth had wrenched it away again, trying to both extend his own energy to calm it and to use it to free Cloud's mind. It had done that, at least. Gunju had screamed in rage as he been thrust out. But the dumb thing had not calmed down. The whole building had started to shake. . . . And they had been trapped in this room. . . .
Blue eyes widened. "Sephiroth," he choked out, forcing himself upright. His body screamed in indignation, but he ignored it. "Sephiroth, where are you?" His voice echoed off the old stone walls with an eerie quality that disturbed even him. This place was so much like a tomb or something. Zack would tell him that was much too morbid of a thought. In fact, where was he? Had he ever found his way into this weird maze-like structure? And Angeal should be with him. . . . What if they were hurt?
He turned his body to face the other direction. In the near-pitch blackness, he could reach out and touch pieces of stone ceiling, beams, even a statue or two that had shattered from the impact. His hands traveled further, finding more of the same. And something soft was under his fingers, too---large disembodied growths that could be feathers torn free. He swallowed down the alarm in his throat.
Here was something else, completely different from everything else he had found. This was not hard like stone, even though it was smooth. It was not jagged and torn, as was all the debris around him. And it did not feel like dust particles. It was cold and clammy and . . .
He stiffened. It was a human hand.
His fingers closed around it. It was larger than his own, and entirely still. There was not a pulse. Yet he gripped it a moment longer, out of some vain hope that there would be a response. This . . . this could only be . . . but it could not. Maybe it was that creep Dalton. He could have found them again, couldn't he? That still would not answer where Sephiroth was, but . . . there were passages and staircases all over this place. He could have tumbled down one of them and be laying unconscious at the bottom. . . . Just unconscious. . . .
His other hand traveled up the muscular arm, coming to the strong yet limp shoulder. Long locks of hair fell over his hand, chilling him as they did. He jerked his appendage back, shaking. Then, slowly, he reached out again, laying his hand on top of the hair. There were pieces of stone and dust caught within it. Sephiroth could get them out himself, once he woke up.
He moved his hand away, taking it in the direction where the man's face should be. There was no hint of breath.
Panic overwhelmed him. This could not be. This was not what had been supposed to have happened. He returned to the shoulder, gripping at it in his hand. "Sephiroth! Wake up!" His screams cut through the silence, ricocheting many times off the walls and fading into the distance. It seemed he barely noticed, yet somehow he was altogether aware of it. He shook the other with furious vigor, but there was no response. And from the way the body hardly moved under his grasp, it was obvious that most of it was pinned by the cave-in. Only the head and arms, and the black wing, were at least somewhat free---though some of the debris had fallen over both the right arm and that wing.
He let go, clawing into the stone with his bare hands. There was so much of it . . . so many pieces. . . . He took hold of one, throwing it to the side. Then he seized another, heaving it in the opposite direction. It smashed into the wall with a sickening crack. But he was already diving for the third. He worked at this almost mechanically---grabbing sections and hauling them away, breathing heavily from the task. He could not stop or rest.
Here were the white wings. He could feel them here, underneath what he had just cleared away. And in the vague light, their color stood out against everything else. He reached out, brushing them down as particles rained onto the stone floor. It was a good thing Sephiroth had that kilt-like thing for clothing, at least. . . .
He pushed the form onto its back, letting it fall limply into position. Then he bent down, pressing his ear to the cold chest. There had to be something. Some breath or some heartbeat that was really hard to detect. . . . Nothing.
A hand shot out, taking hold of Sephiroth's jaw and prying it open. He moved over, positioning himself as he leaned to place his mouth over his former enemy's. When this was all said and done, and Sephiroth was awake, Cloud would be wiping his mouth and possibly feeling repulsed by the necessary actions. But right now it was not a consideration.
He forced air into the stilled lungs with all his might. The chest only rose for as long as the borrowed breath lasted, and then was silent again. But Cloud was insistent. For the next indeterminable length of time, the scenario repeated horribly, painfully.
Until at last the blond leaned back, trembling, a mixture of frustration, disbelief, and sick realization passing over his features. He slammed a sore hand onto the stones upon which he was kneeling. "You weren't supposed to die!" he screamed, nearly rendering himself hoarse as his throat burned. "You weren't supposed to . . ." His voice trailed off into hopelessness.
Something wet and cold slipped down his cheek. He froze, shakily reaching to his face to touch the drop. A . . . a tear? He would cry . . . over Sephiroth? Someone he had hated for so long before letting go of it? Someone he had once both loved and idolized? Someone he had loved again, as his friend. . . .
Or was he crying out of sheer despair and helplessness, because of his inability to prevent this? Because it was his fault that it had happened. . . .
When all had started to collapse around them, and their only visible exit had been blocked, he had looked over at Sephiroth, demanding to know why he had taken such a risk and used the amethyst. The other had given him a cold look in reply.
"You would have been a threat to not only myself, but Zack and Angeal as well," he had said. "The foreign presence had to be removed."
"Yeah, well, thanks a lot!" Cloud had snapped. "Now we'll both probably be killed!" But in his heart he had known Sephiroth had done what had to be. It had been the only possible way to give him the assistance he had needed to force out Gunju's spirit. And . . . and . . . the amethyst had first started to go nuts when Cloud had been holding it. If he had not gotten it, would it have acted like that?
Sephiroth had only smirked grimly, spreading his seven wings as the ceiling caved. "Maybe not," he had said.
That was the last Cloud remembered. Something hard had whacked him over the head, obviously a piece of ceiling, or maybe even a small statue.
He had not understood Sephiroth's last words and actions then, but he did now. Sephiroth had determined that one of them would get out alive, even if both could not. He had shielded Cloud with his wings to preserve his life. And his own was now forfeit. Not even being in the modified Safer form had saved him.
Shakily Cloud reached out again, laying his hand on the long silver locks. With careful movements, he began to pick out the stone and dust. Sephiroth never could stand for anything foreign in his hair. And now he could not remove the stuff himself.
When the task was finished, Cloud drew his knees up to his chest and clutched at them as he buried his face. For the first time in ages, he let himself cry like a child.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 03:14 am (UTC)Although my mind kept going Legends of the Hidden Temple! and that would kind of ruin the moment a bit. XDI hope the RP turns out as awesome as the blurbs it's generating! X3
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 03:46 am (UTC)**was considering that maybe in the RP, Seph's spirit is watching Cloud and trying in vain to interact.**
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 03:22 am (UTC)That was a very cool location, though! I always loved those old temples.^^ I Might have to work a place like that either into a story or an RP.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 03:52 am (UTC)I love that location, too! Much fun for RPs and fics.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 09:42 pm (UTC)Also, I wonder how, in both this and the alternate version, Seph eventually manages not to be dead..
Oh, I read the newest entry in your Zack journal, but couldn't think of a way to respond IC, but it was so cool!
The first part, I was like 0-0!!!!!!!! XD!!!!!!!!!!
Then I ran to tell my mom about it, came back, read it again, and nearly passed out from laughing. The whole scenario was bad enough without adding that mental picture...Lipstick! I wonder though, what exactly Genesis /is/ doing at the moment, and how Gaia's holding up without the heroes there.
The second part made me squee, and the third was so tense and dramatic and - my idea! So you /did/ comment. Unless it was just coincidence... o-o
no subject
Date: 2007-10-30 11:54 pm (UTC)Sephiroth will never be a memory. XDLOL Yes! I found that picture while looking for something to show someone else, and then the idea of the in-joke was too great to pass up.
As for what Genesis is doing, good question. XD In one RP I have him hanging around Earth, but because I don't know his full story yet or whatnot, I haven't done a whole lot with him and what I have done was probably OOC.
XD Well, I did kinda have a similar idea to yours. Your idea kinda made me think of Angeal being like Seph's mentor when I read it, but when I thought it over later, I decided you probably really did mean it as similar to mine.
So, great minds think alike!And yeah, I did comment, when I originally read it. ^^ Though LJ has been eating almost all the comments that come to me lately, or Hotmail has. I have to come here and check manually, instead of getting messages in my email. So maybe you've had the same problem?
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 08:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 11:43 pm (UTC)