Rude- Wall
Title: Wall
Rating: K+ (PG)
Fandom: FFVII
Claim: Rude
Other characters/pairings: none
Table/Theme Name & Number: Table: VI, Theme: 3- Outside (over_look)
Warnings: None.
Summary: Perhaps they saw...
Red and sticky he had always found blood damn near impossible to aptly clean off. More often than not he would find the act of even trying to clean off his shirts once the crimson fluid stained it pointless and the clothes would end up in the trash, disregarded like his past.
He had learned a long time ago that to pretend to feel nothing, to close yourself off from the world was the best way to survive. Caring, he had concluded, was a weakness. If you cared about anyone there would always be someone out there who would exploit that, who would hurt the very people you cared about just to get to you. To close yourself out was a way to protect not only yourself and others, but to keep yourself out of more stressful situations than necessary.
He had been told once that on the outside he looked like a brick wall. Nothing short of a mighty blast could shake him; nothing short of destruction could break through to his gruff exterior. He supposed that was why so many people seemed to utterly afraid of him. If he glanced their way, instantly they would be looking away, afraid to anger him, afraid he would approach them.
Despite himself, he found it amusing. Perhaps, he mused, there was a fair reasoning behind their fear. Perhaps there was reason. After all, they found it probably very easy to see, that he was as cold and hard on the inside as he was on the outside.
And cold people have no morals.
Rating: K+ (PG)
Fandom: FFVII
Claim: Rude
Other characters/pairings: none
Table/Theme Name & Number: Table: VI, Theme: 3- Outside (over_look)
Warnings: None.
Summary: Perhaps they saw...
Red and sticky he had always found blood damn near impossible to aptly clean off. More often than not he would find the act of even trying to clean off his shirts once the crimson fluid stained it pointless and the clothes would end up in the trash, disregarded like his past.
He had learned a long time ago that to pretend to feel nothing, to close yourself off from the world was the best way to survive. Caring, he had concluded, was a weakness. If you cared about anyone there would always be someone out there who would exploit that, who would hurt the very people you cared about just to get to you. To close yourself out was a way to protect not only yourself and others, but to keep yourself out of more stressful situations than necessary.
He had been told once that on the outside he looked like a brick wall. Nothing short of a mighty blast could shake him; nothing short of destruction could break through to his gruff exterior. He supposed that was why so many people seemed to utterly afraid of him. If he glanced their way, instantly they would be looking away, afraid to anger him, afraid he would approach them.
Despite himself, he found it amusing. Perhaps, he mused, there was a fair reasoning behind their fear. Perhaps there was reason. After all, they found it probably very easy to see, that he was as cold and hard on the inside as he was on the outside.
And cold people have no morals.