Weekend Mini-Exchange
Well, since the 10-for-10 party got such a great response, I wanted to try another weekend event. So this time, we're doing a Mini-Exchange. The guidelines are under the cut -
( I do something for you, you do something for me... )
( I do something for you, you do something for me... )
“We’re on our way to visit Aerith,” Prishe announced. “What a pain in the ass; I really hate dragons.”
“I thought you liked playing with Chaos’s pets,” Sephiroth chuckled, though he knew with the wounds that both had he should not keep them. One look at Firion told him that the younger soldier was silent due to the pain he was working to control, and a glance down to his torn breastplate was all the proof Sephiroth needed. Still, the boy was lucky to have such a talented healer waiting for him, and Prishe’s limited white magic could keep him afloat until they reached the gleaming white tower.
“There’s just somethin’ about dragons,” Prishe sighed, unable to put her finger on it.
“We’ll continue on from here,” the Warrior said after a moment, his blade and shield sheathed with the threat gone. “Be mindful of your surroundings and take care.”
“Sure thing, mom,” Prishe teased before she drug Firion in the direction of Sanctuary.
The Warrior only had to glance at Sephiroth to receive a nod, and they both began to move in the opposite direction. Though they rarely traveled alone, he always found it relaxing when they had the chance. Sephiroth did not speak out of turn, and he did not say anything if it did not have a purpose. In that sense they were the same, and it was refreshing to not have to worry about his comrade while he was engaged in battle.
“’Do you really believe that this reality is the true reality,’” the Warrior repeated the words Aquila had spoken when the fomors had first ambushed them.
“It seems those allied with Chaos know more than we do,” Sephiroth said, though he could not interpret what the energetic fomor had meant. He was used to approaching things without knowing the full story, but he was also used to others having a problem with that.
The Warrior was silent for a moment as they walked together, their strides easily matched. Neither walked ahead or behind-their friendship was that of equals, of respect that had been earned time and again on the battlefield. “Tell me,” he prompted. “Have you regained any of your lost memories?”
Sephiroth seemed to muse over this for a moment; he never took one of the Warrior’s questions lightly. “Some,” he admitted. “A few fleeting memories feel like they were beaten into me.”
“I have yet to recover any of my own,” the Warrior said in turn. “I still only feel whole when I’m engaged against one of Chaos’s fiends.”
“So you’re concerned this world is artificial,” Sephiroth gathered.
The Warrior did not deny it, but he fell silent for a while afterward. Sephiroth did not press him; truth be told, he had wondered the same thing. Few things in this world felt familiar to the soldier.
“At least when I look to the sky the stars give me comfort,” the armored warrior finally said, stopping for a moment to cast his gaze toward the heavens. “Perhaps our worlds are connected in this way.”
Sephiroth did the same, but only frowned as a result. “I wonder,” he commented, though he could not keep the dry tone from his voice. “Or maybe only calamity can be borne from such a cold vacuum.”
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Few words passed between them on their way to the next gateway, and inside they boarded the Phantom Train. When the strange contraption had first appeared the Warrior had been skeptical, but Sephiroth had felt at home even on an older model of the train cars he was used to. At least there were rarely others on the train so it was generally a peaceful ride, and it was the fastest way to reach the outer borders that he wanted to scout.
“In your world,” the Warrior ventured once the train had begun moving, “did you fight beasts as well as men?”
Sephiroth offered a thoughtful noise, and answered even though he was uncertain. “Most likely,” he said. “But men are the most dangerous monsters.”
“If this is any indication,” the Warrior said, giving a nod to the world they had been thrown into, “I’m inclined to agree.”
Just slightly Sephiroth smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We trained men to be monsters,” Sephiroth admitted as a vague memory crept through his mind. “On a train not very different than this we forced our soldiers to eliminate troops that looked like allies,” he added. “I also enjoyed giving them a hard time.”
Between his helmet and the angle he sat it was almost impossible to see the rise of the Warrior’s brows, but he was surprised to hear so much from the silver-haired soldier. As time passed and the man fought it seemed he was remembering more of himself, so why was the Warrior not doing the same? He still had yet to remember even his true name.
“Like now I assume not many could challenge you?” The Warrior questioned.
Sephiroth only smiled. “You’re one to talk.”
Responding in kind, the Warrior nodded in admittance. Every time one of Cosmos’s warriors asked to spar with him he had to hold himself back, and he knew that Sephiroth was strict with the younger warriors to avoid having to do just that. Yet the few times he had been able to cross blades with Sephiroth he felt he had seen a part of the man that he showed no other; a part that lived for fighting, that found entertainment in battle, and the Warrior could still remember the damage they had done to the old shrine that day.
“But I’ve been told,” Sephiroth added as he looked out of the window with fond nostalgia in his gaze, “that every hero must embrace his dreams and protect his honor. I suppose that’s what separates the men from the monsters.”
The Warrior contemplated it for a moment and then decided it seemed like something Cosmos would say.
“What’s your dream?” The soldier asked, catching him off-guard again.
“To protect Cosmos,” he answered without hesitation, “and create a world where she can reign.”
Sephiroth chuckled softly. “Unattainable dreams are always the best kinds,” he said, the words sounding familiar once he spoke them. He continued on, repeating words he felt as if he must have heard a hundred times over. “Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess; we seek it thus, and take to the sky.”
This time the Warrior did not hide his surprise. “What was that?”
“I’m uncertain,” Sephiroth admitted. “It’s from a play, I believe.”
After making a thoughtful noise the Warrior was going to say more, but the train suddenly shook and then screeched to a halt. The sound of wood splintering and metal bending put both men on alert, and they both had their weapons in hand as soon as they were on their feet. “Tell me about this play sometime,” the Warrior said.
Sephiroth nodded, and then the two of them rushed forward. They found another beast summoned from the abyss, but this time it was Garland who seemed to control its strings. No words needed to be spoken between the two as Sephiroth engaged the beast and the Warrior of Light moved on to meet his rival. Some days Sephiroth felt like the world was indulging him since, just like the Warrior, he felt as if he was bred to fight.
But he could not help but wonder: what had his dream been? What was it now? Sometimes he wished he could be more like the Warrior; memories were a burden he did not want to shoulder.
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(For reference: Aquila & Haudrale -- and Galarhigg the ugly dragon.)
But thank you for my wallpaper! :) It's all set and looking spiffy. Now I windows + tab through my windows instead of alt tabbing, just to see it. *_*
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Thank you so much for this. X3
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