Surreal and unheard of. That was the best way he knew how to describe the near dream like space he was currently residing in. Comradeship was something he was graced with, but the company was mute. He was merely there, wings of crystal snow beating in time with the twins grown from his own backside. He had entered this realm with enthusiasm, excitement. He had longed to borrow, and to have wings of his own, defy the rules of gravity and feel liberation. All his life there were ties to the earth and the people that were there. Yet death released him from all those ties, his final wish still lingering on his lips as he flew through the Lifestream, waiting to be taken apart so his energy, and his soul could be returned to the earth. If this really was some sort of Promise Land he had to wonder what it would entail for a man such as he.
His life had been a majority of mistakes. The tragedy came to an end with a bang, and the vision of that poor infantryman’s face still burned within his retinas. In the end, to keep Cloud safe was his greatest wish, along with returning to the flower maiden he had unwillingly abandoned thanks to the mission’s unknown circumstance. He knew there was always a chance he would not return, but dying like this was never a part of his plan. With any luck the friend he had instilled his faith within would relay his message, and the one which he counted on and unknowingly attempted to save his life to protect the woman he had grown to care for so dearly. It was always misunderstood, and unfortunately undervalued. He was not ashamed for going down how he did, but there was a yearning to see her smile one last time, the twinkle within her eyes before he became nothing more than memories within the minds of those that lived.
Time was not something he could actively keep while in a place such as this. The stream seemed endless, and he was weightless. His mouth would move and words would spew, often carried by a carefree disposition or a laugh to fill the empty space within. He was never a fan of silence, even when it was a requirement of his job to stay silent and out of one’s view. But Angeal never offered words of retort, never told him to stop. In a sense, this world was his, and with this existence, what ever happened could be seen within the man’s psyche. He did not even know if this was necessarily real. There were times, he noticed, where he could see visions of the world below, that familiar head of blond being the source of sight. It had been surprising, but it was soon realized that he was still very much needed by Cloud, and that, he knew, could be the true reason for a continued existence.
Those glimpses allowed for Zack the one thing he had been curious over during his suspended animation: the purpose of being. With every chance given he attempted to steal looks at those that were around him, but never did he get the chance to see if he had made it to the church he had wished him to grace with his presence. Anything could have happened within the time he had been solely within the Lifestream, his spirit only able to reach him in dire need, there was no telling what could have happened during the times in between. It was not until the infestation of a man he thought had been put to rest before their four years of laboratory experimentation. He watched, silently rooting for the other before he was able to finally break the barrier and touch down to the world he had long since left behind. “ So what if it looks hopeless? If it were me, I still wouldn’t give up. Embrace your dreams. And, whatever happens, protect your honor as SOLDIER! …Well, okay, you never made SOLDIER. But it’s what’s in here that counts.” He tapped his chest then, before offering a hand in slaying him though he knew, Cloud would persevere. a few more words of encouragement were given, before the other was able to finally put the man to rest.
”Cloud, you know what I told you.”
“That’s right.. I am your living legacy.”
The battle was far from over, but he could watch with unwavering confidence before his attention was shattered with the appearance of the young lady he had been attempting to see. Yet she was not within the earth or in Cloud’s spectrum. If his heart still had a rhythmic beat it would be hammering upon his chest, his spirit dwindling at the thought of her dying also - the thought of Cloud being strong enough to summoning them both forth in such a regard of being separated for so long was overlooked as she stepped forth, seemingly as surprised as he.
His questions were silenced as hers came forth, and he took a few steps forward, the wings on his back seemingly melting away. The surroundings became bright, and any signs of his mentor disappeared with the rest of the world. He swallowed, and smiled nervously. If the situation was any different he might have run at her and wrapped his arms around her, wanting to ensure this was all real. But this meeting, the fact they were brought together after Minerva knows how long, it was, he found, the greatest thing he could have asked for outside of reaching Midgar in the first place, even if it now meant she was dead too. But at least, they were together. “It’s… A long story. But I guess we got time, considering it seems our stories both end similarly.”
But she hadn't wanted him to be here. Four years of denial, verily it took its toll on capitulum and self so resolutely. A despondency befalls her as vision finally settles atop one frame almost too familiar in a distance not entirely far enough. And yet she's a master of besmirching a mien that knows how to withhold itself; a visage that's now a connoisseur of eliciting a façade unto all who durst look upon it. So she doesn't weep, even though this terrible catharsis hammers away at her heart ahind one roseate breast; she feels almost...sick to see him. That plethora of emotions felt over nigh five years time doth hitherto resonate--worry, sorrow, anger, jealousy, pity, self-deprecation....Lo, what a mess she is now. A paradigm of humanity all subsides then, she's well aware that he's been here a while, at least; there was that whole...battle, wherein his presence had then shocked her, too.
Had he been there for Meteor, too? Surely, she would have recalled such. Alas, even a ghost's memory canst itself wane, fade in time under duress and the like--an ex-boyfriend was, forsooth, the last thing she was worried about when calamity struck. In fact, the majority of the time she was with the pseudo-SOLDIER, everything about him seemed to shift into fleeting reverie.
Aye, this was the Promised Land spake of by ShinRa and the Cetran peoples--behold its verdant glory, uphold all facets hither and thither evermore. 'Twas dutiful of this pink paladin to escort stagnant souls into this seraph gated realm, aid them on perchance their most important journey thus. But she hadn't helped him, however; mayhap he had entered earlier than even she, vagabond whisperer unto all dead hearts and kith.
She did not regret dying.
What she regretted was more sublime than that.
'Twas not with malice nor intent, nor did she willingly forsake her friends, yet oft it felt as though this was the reality lived out. Because of her stubbornness, the puffed up idea that she could defeat Sephiroth--or at least stall him whilst the others rested. Ah, but what! wielder of Holy at one point--alas, no longer! A shield, didst thou think it? Some such item that couldst thy life salvage? Spurned was she who dared to pray, to act so callous and rashly--make promises that would never be fulfilled, desires that went the same. For woe unto she who loses this that was commended, bonds to those who were more than friends and even true blood family.
How now, even the ephemeral breaths squandered atop Gaia's loam again felt far too meagre to suffice, to subdue an ache amid cadaverous contours and spectoral gait. She yearns to go back, though one she wished to meet with again stands afore her once more.
❝I guess this is why you never wrote me back, huh?❞ Just how long had he been up here, then? It--it almost saddens her to ponder the idea; to think of him so lonesome for four or five years up here {though perhaps 'tis nary bleak if old comrades too are sought out in the midst of this ethereal palace}. And she can't bear to stare at him much more; eyne drop to misty loess yonder, 'neath the soles of roan-tinted boots hence dost now she look. ❝I was scared that...y'know. That you'd--that something like this had happened. It took me about a while, but I made up stories, hoping for a better ending.
Sometimes I'd just imagine that you were on a super secret mission, and couldn't tell anyone about it
--or that ShinRa had given you a job somewhere that there was no cellphone reception, and that I kept sending my letters to the wrong address.❞ She's perfectly capable of talking someone to death, even at the absolute worst of times. A duality of chestnut strokes furrow, highlighting consternation enfettered by her countenance thus. Don't cry. Please.
❝But the one I told people was that
you'd found someone else.❞ It was the most convincing at times. There was always a fragment of her that could not believe him to be so obdurate about the matter--lest he be so great an actor, he had even fooled her. ❝I thought I wasn't what you were looking for, I guess, because I wasn't...because we weren't...you know.❞ Sudden repose hindered any further colloquy hailing from Cetran lips; it pained her to so much as think about this sullen past, one which had seemingly died when she had.
❝I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this.❞
And that's her breaking point. Thoughts, which were not so much forlorn and forgotten memories as she would have hoped, were again divulged upon an unwitting Ancient--so suppressed, damaged, and feared were they; a history she didn't want to solicit, nor express, even whimsically discuss often with the closest of companions.
She hadn't even told Zack of her heritage; why the Turks had followed her around, why Tseng lurked at the church's door every so often, and why there were cameras hinged on each corner of the dilapidated domicile.
So the dam breaks; a few tears come out, but only a few--hands quickly shield both ocelli from any onlooker. ❝Zack, I...
I'm so happy to see you again.❞ It's then that she allows herself to see him forthwith. A plural of verdant doth seek out myriad memories in his figure alone; she can offer but a smile, a silent one at long last. Something of a laugh, and dactyls didst abate all weary water wept by she who canst speak naught for what seems to be an eon.
❝Please--I want to know the story. I don't care how long it takes. I want to hear everything you have to say. Besides,
I think we've got plenty of time.❞
snowghoul
dededos
areudirty
pixelskylines
