Hisoka sees the sign immediately, and having already talked with Jaenelle about this project (back in October, while canoing), Hisoka walks straight down the hall and through the third door. In that conversation, he had thought he was interested in this more for other people's sake than for his own, but he was lying to himself. He dearly wishes to know what the memory room can do. He has no purely happy memories, not a one. For him, joy has always been liberally mixed with sorrow (and usually trouble, as well). He thinks, I'll walk into the Bydan Forest, in the airship world. He supposes that the lovely, magical woodland into which he used to escape as often as he could, as a boy and a teenager, would be the nearest to what the room might have been intended to provide.
Instead, he finds himself face to face with Sephiroth. They are walking up the long ramp from the recreation yard back to the cell blocks. The soldier is over six feet tall and his silver hair hangs like a curtain down his back and neatly brushes the backs of his knees with each of his strides. His long emerald cat-eyes are somber and serious, and he has just glanced at Hisoka in response to what Hisoka has said to him: "I think of you as my grim angel. You have always been kind to me, and I am grateful for it." That kindness included some risks to life and sanity. Sephiroth replies, simply, "I could not do otherwise." In the quietness of these few words, Hisoka understands his meaning for the first time. He loves me.
Sephiroth halts. "Well?" he says. His eyes narrow in that amused and sardonic look he is fond of bestowing on Hisoka. Hisoka answers, "I think I am not really here." Sephiroth: "Why have you come back, then?" Hisoka: "I don't know. But...I'm glad. It is good to see you again." Sephiroth nods. "It is good to see you, too, Hisoka."
And the gray steel prison walls dissolve, and Hisoka is standing alone in a room in the Mansion. He looks down at his sword hand, and his fingers have a faint but discernible tremor. Two sparkling tears run slowly down his cheeks, but he doesn't notice. He feels his heart quickening, thump, thump, thump, and his skin growing cold with joy. This is what it is to remember that despite being young and in the most dire of situations, I chose to remain open and fragile and human. This is how it is to remember that I was loved, and that I loved as best I could in return. To recall that it was not until I was really weak that I discovered how terrifically strong I was.
He says to himself, aloud, "I learned similar lessons before that, and again, after that. So, why is it my lost friend who comes now to remind me?"
And if at this moment, anyone appears in the door of the memory room, or walks into it, this is how they will find Hisoka -- bemused, eyes wet and shining.
Jaenelle saw him following the directions, and trailed after him, curious and wanting to say hello. When she opens the door, then, and steps inside (for a moment impressions swirl of a garden, of a ballroom, of a room full of books scattered all over and a young girl in the middle), she stops, suddenly appalled.
Her hands press to her mouth.
"Hisoka?" she says, suddenly very worried. Did something go wrong?
Jaenelle chews her lip and gives him a very worried look. "...are you sure?" She asks, in a small voice - but she understands about bittersweet, she does.
"I'm sure. I saw a man I loved for a long time. I've thought of him often, since I've been at the Mansion. I needed to see him again, but that was impossible. He is most likely dead. For him to have come in a vision -- well, he is very welcome."
Hisoka looks at Jaenelle with affection in his eyes. "You meant this room to be an uplifting, restful experience -- and it is!...just differently -- in a more roundabout way -- than you maybe had in mind?"
Jaenelle blushes, and smiles a little ruefully, eyes slightly cast downward. "I should have known, really," she says. "Things never seem to go quite how I mean them, here. ...but I'm - I hope it wasn't all bad."
"Things never go the way I mean them, either," says Hisoka. "Don't feel bad about this. I wouldn't have missed it for the world." He takes a deep breath, lifts a sleeve and blots the moisture from his face, and laughs, as though something has been released that has needed to be for a long time. The laughter has a much freer sound than is usual with him, soft and husky. "And what about you? -- have you, too, been visited by a memory? Or have you been so busy making sure others are safe and happy that you haven't had time to try out the room on your own account?"
Jaenelle blushes and ducks her head, because pretty much - yes. "Well," she says, "It would be - silly, wouldn't it? For me to use my own room. I made it for other people." She looks a little sheepish, though. And relieved, as well, especially when he laughs.
Her shoulders slide down, possibly visibly. She was really very worried.
"Do you always feel responsible when people you care about seem sad?" Hisoka asks. "And hey, it's a big room. You can use it, too." He gestures left and right to the space around them, and smiles. He hadn't meant to worry her, and he really wants her to know that he is grateful that she made the room the way she did. A purely happy memory (assuming that he even had such a thing in his head) would have been less use to him than the one that came to him.
"I'm happy that they are," says Hisoka. "And do you remember our late meeting during the first snowfall? Whe I was a lynx and you were a young girl? You were making a building out of snow. A beautiful, elaborate one."
Instead, he finds himself face to face with Sephiroth. They are walking up the long ramp from the recreation yard back to the cell blocks. The soldier is over six feet tall and his silver hair hangs like a curtain down his back and neatly brushes the backs of his knees with each of his strides. His long emerald cat-eyes are somber and serious, and he has just glanced at Hisoka in response to what Hisoka has said to him: "I think of you as my grim angel. You have always been kind to me, and I am grateful for it." That kindness included some risks to life and sanity. Sephiroth replies, simply, "I could not do otherwise." In the quietness of these few words, Hisoka understands his meaning for the first time. He loves me.
Sephiroth halts. "Well?" he says. His eyes narrow in that amused and sardonic look he is fond of bestowing on Hisoka. Hisoka answers, "I think I am not really here." Sephiroth: "Why have you come back, then?" Hisoka: "I don't know. But...I'm glad. It is good to see you again." Sephiroth nods. "It is good to see you, too, Hisoka."
And the gray steel prison walls dissolve, and Hisoka is standing alone in a room in the Mansion. He looks down at his sword hand, and his fingers have a faint but discernible tremor. Two sparkling tears run slowly down his cheeks, but he doesn't notice. He feels his heart quickening, thump, thump, thump, and his skin growing cold with joy. This is what it is to remember that despite being young and in the most dire of situations, I chose to remain open and fragile and human. This is how it is to remember that I was loved, and that I loved as best I could in return. To recall that it was not until I was really weak that I discovered how terrifically strong I was.
He says to himself, aloud, "I learned similar lessons before that, and again, after that. So, why is it my lost friend who comes now to remind me?"
And if at this moment, anyone appears in the door of the memory room, or walks into it, this is how they will find Hisoka -- bemused, eyes wet and shining.
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Her hands press to her mouth.
"Hisoka?" she says, suddenly very worried. Did something go wrong?
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"I'm sure. I saw a man I loved for a long time. I've thought of him often, since I've been at the Mansion. I needed to see him again, but that was impossible. He is most likely dead. For him to have come in a vision -- well, he is very welcome."
Hisoka looks at Jaenelle with affection in his eyes. "You meant this room to be an uplifting, restful experience -- and it is!...just differently -- in a more roundabout way -- than you maybe had in mind?"
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Her shoulders slide down, possibly visibly. She was really very worried.
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There's a touch more of a blush to her face, though. She chews her lip and looks around the room, seeming to think.
"...I probably will," she allows, quieter. "Even though...my family is here. They're what I need most."
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