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Author's Notes
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~Chapter Three~
Part One
In the end of things, both trivial and determining. Life changes with every decision,
so choose the right one.
Blair E.
He stood there like the lone warrior I had met long ago, standing with the stature of wise men, as if knowing of the pain this world had put restraint upon. But then the tear of loss fell down from his ever-watchful eyes of omnipotence. It was the supremacy that he wore like clothing that made this moment so quaint, for I cried before him like the child that my kin could only remember...
I was ashamed, for all my efforts could be said within one sentence. A sentence that only signified failure, cold and dry.
I tried.
I tried. Like it wasn’t of importance, like some frivolous matter that an infant would scream over. No, I lamented over this! My goddess, my father, my friend, and innocent girl now dwelled within their own form of death.
And all I could do was to cry...
__________________________________
It was strange, of wandering interest that I, in that sensation of boredom began to write. I don’t know why I wrote this, but it just revealed itself through the little moments of hearing that clank again. Yes, it was Vincent again. Y’know, the guy I call Valentine. It’s the thirtieth time, or maybe it’s the thirty-fourth... Whatever, that’s beside the point. Well, I guess that’s how he greets me (I’ll never figure him out...), probably why I love him so:
“The clank of a lover’s greeting awoke me that morning, that Valentine of mine. The sound of footsteps, sluggishly walking upon the rooftop could only be from he. Who else would walk freely onto property, and in such an odd fashion? Only him, that dark angel that the gods that watch over me now, bestowed unto me. That lover of mine; only such his smile could be so sweet! The darkness that was, only to be now replaced by the light of a lover’s innocence. My heart beats on because of that assuring knowledge, for his essence is eternal“.
“Even if I am not.”
I don’t know, every time I read it over, I stare at my hands. Why? Who the hell knew I could write that! Such eloquent, so beautiful--wait. Oh, no it’s okay. Never mind, I just keep on reading it over, and then I think I find something wrong, but it isn’t...
Why am I telling you this? Do you even care? Uh! He’s still walking up there...
I’ll write more in you when I get back, I promise...
The book closed, the pen was carelessly eased onto its leather case. Another clank, then another. “Oh damn,” the day has begun. The bed had been her asylum, still thinking of that little girl; suffering from the malediction that guilt placed upon her soul. The malign nature of a beast, still remembering the exuding blood from the chest. She was crying surreptitiously, so Vincent wouldn’t know of this torment, not of the bale death could inflict.
Or did he?
She’d wonder how much he had known. She did an astounding act of satisfaction when before him, repeatedly telling him of what she loved, which was he. I love you, my Valentine. All these words of relentless love, totally unabated by the restraints her heart made, were indeed true. But, they were extemporized just to hide the tears by changing the conversation. First the ‘I love you’ and once to the point of marriage! For when she’d think of that little girl, the joy that Vincent had brought would immediately expiate, but nervousness and timidity would remain.
Only leaving her with the tears, like now.
They were disheveled sometimes, especially after a nightmare. But at this moment, they had exuded because of the misery she constantly felt. The tears that sang her woes thrice, speaking of pain and misery with ever drop, would be her last. She knew that today, for the anguish was too hard to bear.
It was the malentendu of the situation; the mixture of emotion that drove her to tears. It just wasn’t her fault, yet every voice she heard, every execration from the parents of that girl, still resided within her mind. Never leaving, only releasing their toxin of guilt.
“My child! My child!! You horrid girl, you left her alone to die!” The woman screamed profanities Vincent winced at, warning her husband to watch her closely. Yuffie, who was the victim of pointless anger would continue to repeat her words of apology.
“She died because of you!” Her voice emphasized on the ‘you’ with a loud scream, “how could you just let this happen!! She did nothing to deserve this!” Yuffie accepted these accusations with total agreement, never defending herself, only listening.
Now it was the bed for her, and the tears of unremitting sorrow. All previous alacrity disappeared when the child screamed, and only existed in the memories of those who cared. Now the plaster walls heard the screams of the dismal, the wooden floor had now already taste those tears of hurt. This wasn’t the Yuffie that Vincent had once knew, for he knew nothing...
For she was an illusion of joy, and the adherent of guilt. Two people, only one reality.
Clank. He was calling her intentionally now, wanting some response or indication. She placed her feet before her, and stood on the bed in that white blue gown of silk; her hair fell with every movement she made, shining the light the window held. She gripped her fist, smiling once more, and stood on that bed. She then hit against the ceiling three times, then jumped straight down on the mattress.
She was smiling, the smile that could only remind you of what she once was. A smile reminiscent of that thief whose joy was contagious, yet it dissolved as the day would continue, only to be replaced by the malfeasances of humankind, and abnormalities only to be known as monsters.
The previous slumber had indeed insisted the opposite affect on Yuffie, actually inflicting weariness; another obstancy, another problem. As she stood, the floor seemed to deepen, to move farther away from her feet, causing her fall to that cool, wood floor. She let out a small cry, fearing the proximate pain of impact, but she caught herself, luckily.
“Whoa...” She let out thankfully, what was wrong? The sensation was of intoxication, as if she had drank. Wait, did she? She couldn’t remember, wait... Yes, she did. That would explain the malodor (vaguely of alcohol), and why she lacked depth perception. But when? And where?
I’m sure you know why...
“Oh yes, Sheryl!” She giggled, “the crazy girl.” Crazy girl, indeed. She was like Yuffie of the past, so enthusiastic, so friendly and somewhat crafty. She had that thief mentality, something Yuffie could relate to. Sheryl had lived in Midgar since birth, raised in a home whose wealth could buy half of Midgar! She was humorous, but insipient about what the world truly consisted of.
The blonde haired woman, only to the height of Yuffie, was gorgeous. She was actually a member of the Midgarian Council, very responsible, but far too kind to be a politician, or so Yuffie thought. The reason of her drinking was because of her pointless depression, and Sheryl wasn’t the person to let something be, chiefly when it was Yuffie.
“Yuffie?” The knocking was as vociferous as she was, but Yuffie tried to ignore it. Don’t look under the mat, don’t look under the mat. “I found the key, and I’m coming in!” Oh damn it! She was crying again on that bed of white sheets, the plaster walls and the cold wood floor witnessed it, again.
She could hear the footsteps, slowly made on that cold floor, echoing in every corner of the living room. Why, Sheryl!? Why now? Can’t I just cry in peace? Such words wouldn’t even uttered with her around, they were best kept unspoken, or a look of shock followed by a ‘how could you say that’ speech would’ve unstoppably begun. Please Sheryl, don’t make me beg! Another footstep, then another, and so on. Then finally, on the tenth step came a halt; Yuffie heard breathing.
“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” If only I had been sleeping. “Hello? Are ya still alive? Hello!?” First came that, then a, “Yuffie! I know you’re awake, now sit up and stop being a *****!” Then came the profanity: Is there a god? I mean, what the ****!? Then the acceptance, oh well...
And a question never to be answered.
...What did I really expect...
“Oh my god, Yuffie. If you think you’re sleeping in--again, you are so wrong.” Did I forget she was ditzy? A carefree women, who also was insipient, innoxious, and (a not so complex word) dumb. A dumb side that showed quite rarely, but was obviously existent--Yuffie would agree. But that didn’t take decrease the level of enjoyment she shared with her, for childish stupidity only lasts for so long (once again, Yuffie would agree).
“Sheryl! Hi! Oh, I’m so sorry! But I...” Of course she was cut off! “Bull****. Let me repeat--BULL****!” Laughter arose in the room, softly rising, lifting the tension away, disappearing as it touched the limitation of space.
It was then that Sheryl stopped the laughter, and showed genuine concern, for something Yuffie had been trying for weeks to hold in made itself apparent. “Why are you crying?” Oh no!
“Please don’t ask, Sheryl. It’s too complicated.” Why don’t I just tell her, she’s not going to kill me. “What is that supposed to mean. Hmm? We’re friends, you’ve got to tell me.” No answer, just silence. Awkwardness entered as the silence emptied the room of understanding, leaving the tension behind.
“Yuffie, I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?” Was that seriousness? That was the most eerie sound that Sheryl had ever made. No, it can’t be, she’s never serious. “I’m serious.” Oh god, the world is ending...
Sarcasm to the bitter end...
“Alright. I’ll tell you.” Yuffie admitted, gripping the covers and throwing them away from her. She jumped onto that floor, feet placed right besides her boots. She was on the side now, looking at her with a reluctant grin, then suddenly inquisitive. “Wait, how did you know something was wrong?”
“Uh! Yuffie! That is the dumbest question ever! Who knows you better than I do! I mean it’s been a few months now of endless conversations and total trust! How can I not know?” She sighed sarcastically, while Yuffie gasped with that feminine glance. “What the hell do you mean ‘that’s the dumbest question ever? How the hell was I supposed to know, I don’t know if you’re sad or not!”
“--Well, you should. I’ve told you almost everything about me!” A glance right back; this was a battle of looks, endless sighs, and the common flinging of hair (a girlfriend brawl). Both Sheryl and Yuffie both possessed that lengthy, silky hair; constantly being swung as if slapping each other. They’d take a great offense to every sentence they would make; for both wished for that last word, determining the winner of this ‘brawl of hair.’
“Oh god, I’m not listening to this anymore. It’s never going to end.” Yuffie retorted, giving her final sigh. “Well, then just tell me, so I might just shut up! For both of our sakes!” She wasn’t letting her have the last breath. “You know what? I’m taking you out. There is no way you’re telling me here.”
“Oh, FINE!” Another angry reply, “FINE, let’s go.” Then another.
Yes, that was the relationship the two held. Not always in useless squabble, or relenting bickering, but it was usual. Vincent had been trying to understand this nature, always wondering, is there any end to this? For they would argue just for pleasure, an odd classification for pleasure, indeed.
Where the two went after that was a pub, but they headed directly to the bar--at least Sheryl did. “Come on, you can tell me over a shot, okay. It’ll calm you down!” And in a whisper, she said; “and I really need one anyway.”
She told her, Sheryl then pitied her, and told her to get a grip. Sheryl then flirted with the bartender, unconsciously (though Yuffie would insist she was really ‘digging’ him), and then they went ‘wee, wee, wee’ all the way home, drunk. (Sheryl brought the bartender, ‘John’ home--guess what they did.)
It was hard for anyone to understand her pain, it seemed. For it was unusual to feel guilty for something you didn’t do. It was her insidious emotions that did this to her, for she felt this for no purpose. Hence the lack of understanding on Sheryl’s part.
Clank. She was on her bed now, ready to fall back asleep, but the ‘damn’ sun still shined brightly through, nearly blinding her. “Oh Vincent!” With that, she climbed to the side of her bed, there a boot, of brown leather sat there. She picked the left boot up, and threw it against the wall.
“I’m coming! Okay! Just give me a second!” Smiling again as the sun still waited.
________________
Chapter Three
Part Two
The heart of the jealous knows the best and most satisfying love, that of the other’s bed, where the rival perfects the lover’s imperfections.
Djuana Barnes
___
The breeze still blew strong as the truth of that morning had become a reality to the three men. The darkness overtook the light, as the warmth was defeated by the cold. Their tears came visible, as the sun fell over that horizon, past the mountains of silver and white; over those trees and plains of green, flowing like the hair of silk into the midnight’s twilight.
For no bond existed between day and night, just a insapory battle of dominion. For when that sun rose, it did fall. And when it had fallen, the night of twilight made the invocation of evil with the end of all things...
...And with that, the sun did not rise again.
____________________
The stone road was reaching its end, and its last variation of color as I looked to see the great gate. The two buildings that stood besides me was that church of cherubic beliefs, the church of the flower girl. Yes, the flower girl of pulchritudinous beatitude--an enigma of reality, a true reality conjoined by her usually pinned hair, and the flowing waltz of wind only revealing the gorgeous woman she was.
It was then within my panic that, my tormentor came to me. She entered existence like usual, a seductress, a siren of my heart. Yet, only past and the gods know of this, only to pity me for my wrongs, and spit on my back for them, too.
Oh, what sweet lips upon my own can taste! Her image still stands before me, taunting me to remember that brilliant day, when the sun radiated beams so bright! Her hair still flows within that wind--like Yuffie. “No--not now. No more dreams, not anymore.” Breviloquent, yet softly I speak. I won’t let an angel be a marauder of love-- but so sweet, she was.
Such a heraldic figure. A danseuse of majestic glory, even in that silly pink dress. Such beauty, so gorgeous! She was the jubilee of heaven...
Yet, I was the lascivious parasite...I will speak no more of this.
Within the reach of those gates which held knowledge so dreadful, I came to a cessation. Not a barrier of bricks, or wood, or anything as such. I discontinued... A simple pang of fear, and then another...
And then another...
“Stop it.” Another, and now tears. I tried to calm the storm of so much emotion: of concern, of hatred, of anger, of greed. It was a quilt of negativity, consistently striking my mind like a carpenter, driving in the final screw to a establishment of hurt.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Running like the wind, like a lion determined to eliminate its prey, I ran. The wonderment of those guards, covered in such armory and metal with that standard blue undergarment setting their appearance, caused them [two] to come forward slowly. As if cautious; knowing of my mental instability.
“Sir. Sir. Sir, Sir, SIR, SIR!!!” No, I won’t stop, or halt or anything to deny my momentum--she’s out there, alone in that field, alone.
The stones were changing into a dark color, a riotous image, adding to my horror, changing it into something much worse. It is a word where it has no definition, for it is not real. It was delirium, that was clear to all who had seen me. My cloak was flapping like a flag, thrashed within the angry winds; tears were being made as each whip of every blow made the sound of something ripping...
I didn’t care.
It was avarice that drove me, not over greed or wealth, but for her. Perhaps rapacious, though extreme, it has that strong definition of want. Yes, want, and it was only for her. But according to Castolf, the daunt, and still tearful man [I presume] that begged for needless forgiveness; she was dead, or close to it.
That still bothered me. To the point of where I hated him for it. It came to that conclusion, for his avidity, that relentless enthusiasm to follow me, like an adherent--a disciple even; he would usually aver his compassion towards me. It was like this; I was his father to him.
I, a father. I guess such an assumption would be relevant. For wouldn’t a husband run for his beloved, his wife, in a dire emergency? Would he not die for his lover? His eternal love would not avast, not for anyone, or anything.
Just because she would be his everything.
Their relationship would start as a caulescent twig, then becoming a lone tree, only to grow into something much more large, and firm. Not a man, not a cavalcade of axes, or saws could bring it down. Not even death could remove its permanent roots, nor could a canon blow it down with its large steel ball.
It is indestructible.
It was there, like a citadel of might, trust, and love. Never to fall, only to be built upon, to such a great height that the clouds could never see it’s peak, its climax. Simply because there was no end to such a love, or relationship.
It was a bond, an infinite relationship that was boundless in two ways: there was no beginning, and no end. It was always there, even before life was even sparked between the two persons. Even before they met.
Where it did start is unknown, for only the gods could know of such things. A concealment it is, a simple clandestinity, yet for something so enormous. But what if one died? Would that citadel grow with the same momentum? Would it even rise to a higher place? Would it be forever incomplete? That’s the question that made me bolt to those doors, the second scrutinizing impediment.
I wasn’t too far away from the guard, now. He though I was somewhat scurrile, but why would I dissemble my scrimption? He was an inferior being, a common man whose strength only relies on his human strength.
I’m not a barbarian.
He screamed a few ‘waits’, and ‘sirs’, but I didn’t wait. It was the last remnant of my strength that enabled the jump, which was of some height. The words to which he used, were, indeed rather humorous in content, but laughter [you’d suppose] wasn’t appropriate.
“Sir! Please just wait! Sir!” Then at the moment of the leap, he screamed; “Holy ****!”
The wind was a contribution to the momentum, pushing me forward, gently lifting me higher over a great distance. It was the awe on the other guard’s face, still with his mouth opened, as if pronouncing something lengthy, yet so large. It was profanity, and strangely said. As if destroyed by the food he was eating, but could be heard as, “I jus’ might **** myself.”
It was then that gunfire could be heard in seconds, I’m thinking one or two clips. The gun--excuse me, rifle, was a newer version of the SOLDIER standard uniform, and armory. The ammunition was aimed for my back, which successfully struck it.
I let out the common shriek while airborne, and then roared with even more anguish due to the rough landing. A very rough landing, indeed. Something I hadn’t felt in months, and had wished to feel ever again. But I did, with a rough landing, and a porous back.
The sky was the last beauteous thing I saw, as I began to fall back to the ground, landing oblique and dead. It was the grandeur of the colors that let me see another day, a day not so grim, not so unexpected...
Don’t close your eyes. Just keep them open, and breathe. I’d tell myself that, until it became repetitious, and irritatingly redundant. But, it didn’t matter, at least not now. For this moment, I was crying tears, and speaking words of remorse.
“Oh please. Please, don’t leave me. Don’t--Don’t, please Yuffie, just stay with me a little longer.” There was no replication of this hurt--not from the wounds, just for her and the horrid thought of her dead.
Don’t close your eyes. Just keep them open, and breathe.--No, don’t breathe. Close your eyes, and keep them closed. Don’t think, don’t cry, just go...
Just go...
“Sir? Sir!” Different voice. “Oh ****, oh ****. Oh ****! OH ****!” Someone else. “Shut-up! Just shut-up!” It was the same voice as before the second, it sounded as if he was trembling. “Pertene, you’ve really just screwed yourself over. Do you even know who he is?!”
“Shut-up!”
“Look, stop telling me to shut-up.”
“Shut-up! His eyes are moving.”
“Well, don’t just stare at him! Go and get help!” Just answer me. Please just answer me.
“Okay, okay.” Close your eyes. Don’t breathe.
“What’s his name, Vance?” Only make the here and now worthwhile...
“What? Oh, uh I think Valentine. Yeah, that’s it, Valentine!” We cannot change the future...
“Okay. We’re going to help you, sir. Just stay with me. Please.” Close your eyes. And don’t breathe.
Fade into nothing...
_________
...I wish things were different...
Oh don’t worry about it...
What question?
What are you talking about...
Yuffie, y’know I love you... I have my reasons....
Go ahead then, I really don’t care. You seem to love him, and not me...
Stop screaming, please just stop screaming. Just stop it, please. Don’t ask me that, you know I love you. Yes, I’ll do whatever you want. Yuffie, please.
Shh... Don’t worry anymore. Just don’t worry about it... What? No, I didn’t say that. No, y’know what I meant.
--Stop it. Just stop it. She’s dead Yuffie. Stop it!! It does matter... JUST STOP IT! NOW!
Oh, no. Oh no, Yuffie. Oh please, don’t. I love you. Don’t make this harder, not any harder...
I don’t want to cry anymore...not here, not now. No more darkness, I don’t want to be in there alone...
Don’t you understand. I-I loved you. I still do...now be with me. Please just sleep... Just sleep...
-Just sleep... Everything’s going to be alright...
We’re going to sleep together...
_________
“Oh Marlene, oh Marlene...”
“Don’t cry baby...Jus’ don’t cry. Jus’ say hi to Mommy for me, okay? --Oh my god, oh why, oh why...why now? Why ****in’ now? What did I do? Jus’ tell me, so I have a god damn reason...”
“Nothin’? Nothin, just like usual you damn ass!” I don’t wanna to cry any more. I don’t wanna cry any more.
“Please give me a reason? Jus’ one?”
____________
Not again...
The two had done the banal routine of silence. The simple steps and movements were done with absolute quiet. Not even a whisper, maybe a cough was heard throughout the house--for what had they to talk about?
But that wasn’t the problem, oh no, it was something much worse than a loss for words. It was strange, for they had clearly changed over the months. From blissfully happy, to happily married, then to the unwanted, ‘Leave me alone, and I won’t bother you.’ They totally skipped the ‘I hate you!’ phase, for there was no anger existent within those walls...
If the walls could speak of the silence, a silence not meant to be, and never thought to exist; it would speak of resentment. A resentment? Yes, the resentment that dwelled within the air; stale but alive, still venomous to any relationship.
Especially a marriage.
The essentia of it made the house reek of discomfort. Discomfort, that terrible word that each person had to feel. That terrorizing disease of difficulty, a inherent substance leading to separation--hence, divorcement.
Cloud and Tifa, divorced. Something never to be thought of, or even spoken of. An undesired event of something, well, drastic. And who else could see this coming other than the Cid? Yes, Cid the Pilot, who resided in Rocket Town. Why was he in Niebelhiem? Oh, that is something only he, and his crew know of. Yes, he came with that airship, that vehicle approximately twice the size of Niebelhiem itself, and thrice the more expensive.
He would use it for business now, for simple trading between towns and cities. It was actually a cargo ship, one of twenty [all of which he built]. The name was changed to The Cid I, a bit cliched since every other ship was named after him, hence The Cid II, The Cid III, so on, and so forth.
You could understand the importance of this man, but you could never comprehend his wealth. He could buy the blue skies, and the moon’s glory and still be considered extravagantly rich. Once a plebian, now a noble. Did he like it? Of course not. There was such diversity between him and the rich, he would insist that he was ‘the same mother****er’ as always.
Mother****er? Oh yes, something he would call others, rather himself.
Yep, that ‘old kid’ still was flying in that heaven of serenity, where no one could bother him...well, perhaps Shera.
Predictable. It can only be that. Chemistry between the two lasted long after the ‘suicide’ attempt, and long before it. The common ‘I hate you’ stance could only last for so long. Cid wasn’t vindictive, though you would mistake him to be just that. Well, he wasn’t, thus creating a long bond, slowly evolving into something more serious.
Yet, within this process of growth, all they could speak of was Cloud and Tifa. Yes, the situation had become the nucleus of all discussion. The conversation might start with the weather, and then suddenly take an oblique turn. From there was an argument, then Cid would make a little joke, relief from the tension, and then the ‘they aren’t letting up, y’know’ line, thus creating the C&T conversation.
Now that’s predictability.
Cid never thought about it, until now from his newly built ‘balcony’. It was more like a huge hole with some banisters surrounding it. He called it ‘another masterpiece’ while it really was ****. Even Shera would admit...
“Are you even sure it’s stable?” See? He’d respond, but then he’d forget something brilliant to say, wait, it too was ****. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Sure? Cid, come on. You and I both know that it really--”
“What?! What is it? Huh, just tell me what I already know.” Yes, he was overprotective of his inventions even if it was... “****.”
“You can’t just say that.”
“Why not? I’m just--”
“Being honest? Look, when I ask you to be honest. Then you do that. But when I’m obvious to the fact of it being ****, I don’t want you to say anything! Now, it being what it is--”
“****.” She often let loose her humor. This time, she chuckled to herself.
“Oh goddamn, I ****ing know!” Did I mention the persistent profanity? I should’ve warned you...
“Look, Cid. If you like it, you like it. But don’t let this crap stay here. It doesn’t belong to you anymore...it’s mine.” Exchange of glances, then a smile from the lady. Then a shrug from the pilot.
“...moth..fu...shi.” It always made her wonder why he did that, just inflicting more humor to the situation, and reducing his dignity to nothingness. But her face did resemble that rose he gave her, the day of the agreement. It was a beautiful morning, the very opposite of this night. An egg of some species was given to her.
It was alive, and it was a dove. It hatched a few days later, and now rested on her shoulder. Yes, it was her companion, but much more than that [to Cid]. It was a sweet promise, something only a lover could think of.
“Y’know it won’t stay forever.” It was a sweet whisper, a whisper that the morning breeze exemplified every morning after that. She’d wake him right before six, a time just for them. Hmm, them, a unity of love that could exist through the destruction of one, or the other.
But that’s another story.
“I know.”
“But, I’ll always be here.” Don’t mess this up. He was often paranoid. Nobody realized it except her though. It was either a rubbing of the hands, or the shift of his eye.
“Will you? Could you? I‘ve never known you to wait...”
“...I’d wait. I’d wait till as long as I could.”
“Till death do us part?” Till death do us part. The question was sadly never answered. Only in her dreams did he answer, had a dashing smile, and the wedding ring in his back pocket...
Ironically, in reality he did.
_____________
“Sweet lips, like chocolate they were, so soft and gentle. Lusciously filled with the taste of nectar, similar to those eyes I adored so much. They purged my body with that silent feeling of peace, once more letting me realize that truth, the only truth.”
Damn letter, some poetic crap he wrote...
He loved her, that for sure...
She loved him...
No. Stop thinking about it, just purge your mind of this. Just put the knife down and step away from her. I can just disappear, no one would really care. Like Kalm, I could go to Kalm, there’s some women there...
But I want her...but I can’t have her. No, I can, I can have her and no one would care. No one.
But what about the Unity? They’d come after me, I am the leader...
But they won’t follow me forever, they might just forget about it! They probably won’t care.
But what if they do?
But what if they don’t?
Just kill her and get over with it. It’s her fault anyway, she possessed me. All that time, poisoning me with those looks...
She’s so beautiful...
And I’m not.
What am I to do, Yuffie? What am I to do...
He needs me to help him, and I needed to get close to him...
But then you appeared...
...It’s not my fault. So don’t be angry with me, okay?
Okay?
Don’t forget that I love you, and always has...
Don’t forget.
____________
It was the hallucination that kept me alive. That beauty the Goddess’ of my life held was mesmerizing, singing me a lullaby of comfort. Forgiving me of sin...
Of my sin.
I was in a comatose state, they said. A colossal amount of pain struck me before I ever reached the ground.
But I felt the fall....I know I did. But what did I know, I was close to death--and delusional. I could only believe the verisimilitude. The appearance of truth was enough for me to believe, at least at that time...
I asked about her with a very concerned attitude...
And wished for death...
_____________
Chapter Three
Part Three
We must travel in the direction of our fear.
John Berryman
I fell into that sleep again. A sleep so far, a world that was damned. A driblet of what it once was. It was an emptiness, an existence reduced to something a man once thought the world should be.
Dead.
Within this state of existence, a cold world of a cold breeze, no, more like the hurricane that the imps and demons of this actuality. It would exhume the spirits of death, of hate, of loneliness. And that purpose could only be shrouded in a nightmare’s mystery.
It was the austerity that death held on that cold breeze, holding another morning’s doom. A doom not meant for humanity, for the planet. No curse could be so evil, so maliciously created and inflicted.
No sane man could commit this crime, only derision and pain! But who, and how?
Such questions that remain unanswered can only frighten me.
Frighten a man without a soul.
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An entrechat of the fabricant, the creator of confusion. A tear for each day, a minute, and each and every second. It was the hurt of loss, that epergne elaborately decorated with one, small ingredient.
Regret, the epiphenomenon of climatic distress, the true epilogue of insanity. Yes, insanity. For she was my sanity, the bolster of all purpose, the citadel of my equanimity. Yes, I’d go as far to say that much.
I was loosing my mind, slowly, but surely. I had already gained a strange speech, for I had soon become a man of few words. Quiet and suspicious, a simple reaction to loss, I suppose, but it was much more than that, or it was. Yes, it, the fidelity of the past, the promise I had made.
Did I keep it? The promise was short and simple, to always remember, and to live on. But, what if I could not? This algetic life was the assonance of pain, of distress. What could I do now?
I would think about that sentence, that assortment of words. Prattling within my mind, from answers to questions, from beginning to end, I would think of her, and those eyes that held that beautiful glow, that wondrous shimmer of trust, and that sweet voice of merriment, of simplistic mirth.
But did that exist any longer? No, that climatic jubilee of my life, of her, had died. Death, such a methodical preternatural being, a horrid thing, an entanglement of potency, but of mesmeric qualities. Yes, she had to fall in his hands by his mesmerizing stare, the eyes that could bewitch any. Shrouded in mystery, the mastery of his disguise was to fool the world into eternal darkness, or eternal light.
Whatever which, he still stole her from me.
I would scream imprecation after each blasphemous thought. Perhaps he would come for me too, bringing me to a end without, or with her. Only the gods could consider my fate. But, I was impulsive, and delusional. A drastic mixture of pain, and incorrigible anger.
Barret felt even more heartache than I did.
I knew he did, not by our encounter, for we didn’t encounter each other today; just heard each other scream. A scream of loss, a broken tear; these were the signs, and its outcome on us. It was a bitter sweet memory, a morning of blissful awakenings, and the nightfall of kidnap. To the both of us. The men saw that within our eyes, as they came to apologize. The one shooter, and the partner, both standing far away from my hands, as I laid there on that bed linen.
Dreaming of another day, a day so far away from here.
It was lunacy, the dreaming of a dead man: I dreamt of a land that the princess’ of my soul resided. A land where its rivulets were of a flavorsome quality, where no rifts or tears lied; a perfect land. The skies bloomed the sun’s robust rays, so strong, yet soft. A soothing warmth and of a sailing cloud, a eternal peace and everlasting presence. A presence of what? The essence of my love, of ecstasy and proliferate felicity. Proliferate? Yes, I was not alone. They were there, all of the men and women I had cherished. Yes, Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and Nanaki. Cid, and Aeris too, smiling over the horizon, never feeling that cold morning breeze...
But such feelings diminished as the dream ended, and that cold morning breeze blew that horrendous taste of reality, reminding me softly, you’re not dead yet.
“Such illuminating circles of white and red I see, a taste of death, the cold bite of life still lingers within my soul.” It wasn’t a soft voice, masculine, and clearly old. That sentence was familiar, but odd, for this room was a dark one, of dim lighting. The floors were of a cold marble white, and the walls were of a stone that was of a expensive substance.
It was smooth, a glassy covering over something rather hard, but opaque and morosely colored. The dark was in a constant battle with the light, for shadows lied from each corner, and under the bed of metal bars. A stretcher, I presume, again cold but a shining reflection of myself on it.
Stale air, and the dark shadows; the man lurked within them. It was a cold voice, yet his figure could be made out. It was a bulky man, a but of a considerable height. My eyes would wander on to his boots, the only visible object, then to his eyes.
By God, his eyes!
They were once closed, but now opened. A burning fire they were, a touch of flames, and a hint of unreasonable anger. Fear didn’t touch my spine, just surprise, and a droplet of curiosity.
“A man of blood tainted robes, and a scarlet hand. A mind of confusion, and...a sudden look of surprise? Spurious, are you not that man who cried for one?”
I saw a strange allurement within those eyes, and in that voice. Yet, a bandeau of fear finally arose within my spirit, within my mind. Then came the balm, a ambrosial aroma so serene, so calm, that the fear was tranquilized into arbitrary trust.
“Who are you? Tell me, immediately.” It was an idiotic command, an attempt to control the moment.
Yet, it never occurred to me, that this one moment, instant, time could not be controlled. It would never succumb.
“Odd, you do this out of fear. Shouldn’t you calm yourself? For I may be of many things, a creature of powers beyond your perception, yet, you still do this? Then perhaps this noxious appearance was the reason to your fright.
“Forgive me, I had no intent to cause you fright. But, take this as a warning, I don’t except such rude welcomes kindly.” The light still stood there, shadowing his face and upper body, only the hands were noticeable.
The glove was of sand, both texture and color. It was bewildering, befuddling even, never had I seen sand in Midgar, or even on a glove. It was clenched, tight, while the other was open and relaxed.
The bulb was loosing its light with every second. The shadows began to increase it size, changing the room into something more dark; not physically though. I shrugged, pulled myself from the silhouette of the dark. But, he just stood there, as if awaiting something. A question I assumed, but my supposedly apparent fear restrained me to words.
He said this, with the placidity of the surrounding seas: “Ataraxy is what you want, isn’t it? That beautiful tranquility that she brought. She was your Elysium, your heaven, but she has fallen into the caliginous grip of inevitability. You know of that inevitability, don’t you? So many have fallen into that obscurity, into death’s hands. But your aren’t callow, you’ve felt his pain before...
“Your heart has lost its beat, and your mind has fallen off its course. The trusting man you once was, died with her. And now, when all calamity seems certain, your purpose to living has no significance to you; like a fly, still flying around the light, and dung of this world, only waiting it’s death by time itself, or other circumstances.
The sound of it, and that contemptuous analogy, was indeed true. I had no reason for existence, as previously stated, but what did it mater to him? What calamity still roamed the land?
“Don’t speak as if you know me. Candidly and briefly stated, that was indeed true. But, I don’t need this belittlement. You know of my calenture, her death, and her significance to me. How could you use this disaster to your satisfaction? I’ll ask again, and I want a simple answer.
“Who are you!?” First a whisper, then a scream. His voice was as loud as thunder, camouflaged by deep concern of something horrid.
“Vincent Valentine! What you wish to gain from this question will only haunt you until your time’s end! The devilry and the godliness I hold can never be revealed to a man, even you! It is a poison, a truth, never to be known. Many have asked, none have survived!”
The growl was an affliction of sound . It’s caliber was like the mighty winds of the sea. Yet, I felt the marvel of it all, and finally understood that he, in his obvious power was something greater. A superior being, but somehow relative to humanity. For he was human, hence the fingers, toes, eyes, and lips - but, he wasn’t totally human.
The eyes had lost its glow, and the darkness was reduced to a less frightening stance. It was eased back, slowly as the tension rose [but was still there]. Then, I saw his face: coarse, pale, and the small touch of eldership. It was cold, a mixture between the visage of a corpse, and the blue seas. The coarse quality his face held, was indeed apparent. Like mountain ranges colliding with each other, only to rise more from the vicinity of the face.
“Don’t let my facade frighten you, for I have many.”
“Many? Tell me, what species are you? No, let me rephrase, what are you?” His lips, so smooth, yet so red formed a smile, a hideous smile. A smile which was followed by a courteous chuckle, was displayed to my encrypted disgust.
“That I cannot tell you, for a countless millennia's have pasted without me ever wondering.”
“Are you that old?” I began to sit up from that bed, my posterior still lied within the comfort of bed padding, but my posture was upright. My clothing was on, everything, nothing removed or misplaced, and my wounds - gone. I didn’t care to think about it, still wondering, contemplating on the man’s purpose of his visit.
No, not visit, for what visitor would startle the visited? I tried to forget about it, and focused my thought on his words, but I only was befuddled, to a point of complete bewilderment.
“Why have you come to me? What is this? You tell me your older than humanity, and deem yourself god! If you are such a great being, tell me why would such a deity visit me?”
The question was quick, but spoken with gentilesse. I heard another chuckle, but the slight hint of amusement, yet it was gammy, like it wasn’t authentically presented.
Like he felt nothing.
“It will be explained in time. But, I will tell you this, and you must comply.”
“What? You have left me in garboil, and have smothered me with even more confusion with your explanation of ‘existence’. Why should I comply? Do you think I honestly take your words as truth?”
“It would be wise to do so, but, this is a choice. A choice for that happiness death has stolen.”
“What? Are you telling me she can return?”
“Much more than that, Vincent. You will be truly satiated in her love, for she will be alive. Never have I lied, and there is no reason to do so.”
“-No, she’s dead.”
“I told you not to act like this, like you were the older, wiser man. You can’t control the situation. You weren’t meant to. You cannot fly without falling...” How did he know of this? Why did he use this tragedy to his advantage.
Because it worked.
It was the tear that betrayed me, that divulged my one wound. No physical bruise or pain could literally wound me, only her. She was my one flaw, yet, my one bond.
“How could I not? She’s dead, and the pain kills me with every second, every breath, and every heartbeat. Just living kills me, and that’s not living.” The emotions, the human emotions were my other flaw, killing me with those droplets of sorrow and reticent lamentation.
“I can find the lost, only if you are willing.” He said those words, lacking in something. Enthusiasm. Just that bland serious tone, yet, leaving me to faith in the twilight of doubt.
“Willing? To what?”
“It will be revealed in time. But, you will have to travel.”
“To where?” Travel. That wouldn’t cause much problems, Midgar had suddenly lost its appeal. Though, I’d wonder to why. Perhaps something was there, an object, or just a test. I had honestly considered this, for what was left of my life?
“The cold mountains of the superior, a being so wise, yet so naive. Where the breeze of the cold morning begins and ends. The place of your confinement; go there.”
“Niebelhiem? Why Niebelhiem?”
“Don’t question me, just either do it, or not. I will only wait for a time, and I won’t wait for more than a length of eight sunrises, and seven sunsets. When there, you will know.” The light started to flicker, as the shadows began to increase their territory. Like the armies of darkness, overcoming the hope and joy...
...Rendering myself, no longer innocent.
“Of what?” Another flicker, and then finally, darkness. He was breathing, and so was I. Small, but so loud, it was like an animal breathing its last.
Then finally a discontinuance. Only those red eyes, finally closing as the essence disappeared.
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“It is coming. The time is drawing so close. She has opened her eyes, and has inhaled that taste of her desire. Within the white, there is always the black, her removal from this world hasn’t changed a thing. They have failed, miserably, she knows this, and so do I.”
“Soon, we will finally have dominion over the Civilization, the Dome. They will never withstand the true force of JeN. They don’t realize even of our existence, yet they bicker on an on about their frivolous problems. We are more than able to abolish them now, Sire.”
“But, the Wisdom knows of us. The stars are crying for the planet, alerting it. You must move quickly to the Cosmo Canyon, before he finds out. If he does, the world will soon know of the preemptive attack.
The Planet is already building its defense, and is searching for it’s leader.”
“Don’t be too concerned, Sire. I have already understood this problem, and have the plans to destroy the defense, and the inhabitants. They won’t survive. They’ll kill themselves in greed.”
“Don’t be too certain, the Omnispirit is against us.”
“I will, Sire.”
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Last edited by Macrocosmic : 12.31.02 at 11:16:55.
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