#049
[Title] Burn
[Fandom] Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
[Pairing] Loz/Yazoo
[Rating] PG-13
[Word Count] 837
[Summary] Can't say, spoilers. Just read.
Swirls of haze, curling around black leather. Transparent skin, glowing-green, yellow, blue, purple, red. The sound of the gunshot was hanging in the air. A triumphant smirk was framed by misplaced strands of silver. They both stumbled, swayed, their unreal eyes fixed on their brother
Glancing over at an outstretched arm, the hand still clutching at the well-crafted weapon that had made one last attempt, the other brother pulled that trademark smirk. “…Yazoo. Let’s go out with a bang.”
It didn’t take long for the explosion to trigger. For a moment, there was only a deafening sound, blinding light, and heat-then that vague feeling of their bodies being thrown back and something hard breaking their fall.
For a while, they were lying there. Bruised, cut, covered in soot. Dissipating. (Fading.) There was a silence there, meant to contrast the booming noise from before. Flames circled them, licking here and there; embers dying. It was familiar, but not in the traditional way. The smell of the smoke did not unbury old memories. The warmth beating down on them from all sides did not take them back to some day long gone.
But they had heard the stories, the whispers, the things not meant to be known. They knew the legacy, and what they were intended to live up to. Throbbing in their heads was that tickling feeling-this is what it must have felt like when He let it all burn.
Kadaj was gone. They were done for. It was as if a piece of their central unit had been ripped from them. Neither of them believed that they could continue on without the third portion. Besides, Kadaj had fulfilled their collective task-and failed.
However, there was always some false hope. They wanted to please their Mother, no matter what they had to do.
Yazoo picked himself up finally, staggering forward. His now dulled eyes glanced over at his brother; sprawled across the ground, bleeding and dying.
They had to try.
Dragging himself over, the man (spirit?) knelt down next to his brother. “Come on, maybe we can…” He fumbled for words, desperate and with nowhere to turn. (And then there were two.) “We can join. We can become him.”
Loz stared up with equally dead oculars, his breath hitching. He weakly lifted up one gloved hand and wiped some crimson from his temple. “It’s no use…”
“No,” Yazoo whispered, eyes widening. “We have to try.”
One, almost hysterical. One, accepting.
“Please.”
Long hair draped over a bared chest as the more feminine figure straddled the stationary one. Yazoo placed both of his hands on either of Loz’s shoulders, eyes begging.
Loz faltered, paused, considered balking, but nodded. He reached up to his brother, placing either of his hands on the sides of his face. Slowly, gracefully, he pulled Yazoo down so that he was lying, flat and straight, on top of him.
Both of their arms removed from their previous positions and slinked down to join at their sides, fingers curling together, yearning to synthesize. They pressed their bodies together, hoping black would meld with black, silver with silver, calmness with rashness, softness with hardness.
Parts would be missing, but they could be Sephiroth. Two-thirds of him.
Yazoo’s icy breath touched against Loz’s neck. He slithered upward so that they were entirely face-to-face, staring down with an appreciative countenance. “Thank you…”
Loz just nodded. Its fine, he said without speaking. Maybe we can succeed.
Synchronized, both of them began the final step in unison. One head lowering, the other lifting, until lips brushed and then met in that last bond of body and soul.
They laid there, as united as two could be, and waited.
They waited and prayed, hoped and wished, wondered and pleaded. Let us succeed and let her be happy.
The flames died, it became colder. Their skin froze, they bled. Their lips stayed pressed, tongues touching, hearts hoping…
-
The next morning called Cloud there. Blonde spikes and a quite expression ascended upon the scene to reflect. The celebrations had ceased, leaving him calm and content and light. He stepped up to the battlefield, to the point where it had all ended, where he had let Kadaj go, where he had felt that bullet pierce through him-
He had to see that all the loose ends were tied.
As he had suspected, there they were. Two of them, slumped over each other in an embrace. Their skin, hair, eyelashes, dotted with bits of ice.
Sighing, Cloud kneeled down and brushed the condensation away. Tucking their hair back neatly, he shook his head in dismay.
Using both hands, he took both of them into his arms, much as he had with Kadaj. Closing his eyes, he concentrated. He needed to send them off and let them rest.
After a few moments, his chemical eyes opened to see bits of green Lifestream floating around him, rising up into the air until it had all faded away.
He managed a rueful smile.
“Go home."
[Fandom] Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
[Pairing] Loz/Yazoo
[Rating] PG-13
[Word Count] 837
[Summary] Can't say, spoilers. Just read.
Swirls of haze, curling around black leather. Transparent skin, glowing-green, yellow, blue, purple, red. The sound of the gunshot was hanging in the air. A triumphant smirk was framed by misplaced strands of silver. They both stumbled, swayed, their unreal eyes fixed on their brother
Glancing over at an outstretched arm, the hand still clutching at the well-crafted weapon that had made one last attempt, the other brother pulled that trademark smirk. “…Yazoo. Let’s go out with a bang.”
It didn’t take long for the explosion to trigger. For a moment, there was only a deafening sound, blinding light, and heat-then that vague feeling of their bodies being thrown back and something hard breaking their fall.
For a while, they were lying there. Bruised, cut, covered in soot. Dissipating. (Fading.) There was a silence there, meant to contrast the booming noise from before. Flames circled them, licking here and there; embers dying. It was familiar, but not in the traditional way. The smell of the smoke did not unbury old memories. The warmth beating down on them from all sides did not take them back to some day long gone.
But they had heard the stories, the whispers, the things not meant to be known. They knew the legacy, and what they were intended to live up to. Throbbing in their heads was that tickling feeling-this is what it must have felt like when He let it all burn.
Kadaj was gone. They were done for. It was as if a piece of their central unit had been ripped from them. Neither of them believed that they could continue on without the third portion. Besides, Kadaj had fulfilled their collective task-and failed.
However, there was always some false hope. They wanted to please their Mother, no matter what they had to do.
Yazoo picked himself up finally, staggering forward. His now dulled eyes glanced over at his brother; sprawled across the ground, bleeding and dying.
They had to try.
Dragging himself over, the man (spirit?) knelt down next to his brother. “Come on, maybe we can…” He fumbled for words, desperate and with nowhere to turn. (And then there were two.) “We can join. We can become him.”
Loz stared up with equally dead oculars, his breath hitching. He weakly lifted up one gloved hand and wiped some crimson from his temple. “It’s no use…”
“No,” Yazoo whispered, eyes widening. “We have to try.”
One, almost hysterical. One, accepting.
“Please.”
Long hair draped over a bared chest as the more feminine figure straddled the stationary one. Yazoo placed both of his hands on either of Loz’s shoulders, eyes begging.
Loz faltered, paused, considered balking, but nodded. He reached up to his brother, placing either of his hands on the sides of his face. Slowly, gracefully, he pulled Yazoo down so that he was lying, flat and straight, on top of him.
Both of their arms removed from their previous positions and slinked down to join at their sides, fingers curling together, yearning to synthesize. They pressed their bodies together, hoping black would meld with black, silver with silver, calmness with rashness, softness with hardness.
Parts would be missing, but they could be Sephiroth. Two-thirds of him.
Yazoo’s icy breath touched against Loz’s neck. He slithered upward so that they were entirely face-to-face, staring down with an appreciative countenance. “Thank you…”
Loz just nodded. Its fine, he said without speaking. Maybe we can succeed.
Synchronized, both of them began the final step in unison. One head lowering, the other lifting, until lips brushed and then met in that last bond of body and soul.
They laid there, as united as two could be, and waited.
They waited and prayed, hoped and wished, wondered and pleaded. Let us succeed and let her be happy.
The flames died, it became colder. Their skin froze, they bled. Their lips stayed pressed, tongues touching, hearts hoping…
-
The next morning called Cloud there. Blonde spikes and a quite expression ascended upon the scene to reflect. The celebrations had ceased, leaving him calm and content and light. He stepped up to the battlefield, to the point where it had all ended, where he had let Kadaj go, where he had felt that bullet pierce through him-
He had to see that all the loose ends were tied.
As he had suspected, there they were. Two of them, slumped over each other in an embrace. Their skin, hair, eyelashes, dotted with bits of ice.
Sighing, Cloud kneeled down and brushed the condensation away. Tucking their hair back neatly, he shook his head in dismay.
Using both hands, he took both of them into his arms, much as he had with Kadaj. Closing his eyes, he concentrated. He needed to send them off and let them rest.
After a few moments, his chemical eyes opened to see bits of green Lifestream floating around him, rising up into the air until it had all faded away.
He managed a rueful smile.
“Go home."