[he makes the quiet, cut off sound when the metal tip breaks his skin and his brows come down hard as he locks his jaw. It hurts. But no where near as badly as it's going to. Whether it's that she'll move on to enough of his body that the small pains will multiple and become unbearable or if she'll just keep sawing and peeling until she hits bone and the metal scrapes - eventually it's going to be too much for him. His blood runs down his arm, red and alive, puddling on the stainless metal of the table. It taints the air with it's copper and ozone smell, and he knows it will congeal by the time she's done, sticky and dark the same way he knows by the time that happens he'll be too far gone to care.
Tifa's going to be pissed if he comes home filthy again.
...won't fix anything...
He knows that. She doesn't have to tell him but he takes the blow to his heart that she feels as if she needs to say so as another cut he deserves. Of course it won't fix anything. There's no 'fixing' someone's murder. All the places she'll never get to see. All the things she'll never get to do.
All the people she's been torn away from. The life she would have had...
This isn't about fixing. It's about giving her what she deserves. Or at least a little of it. She deserves more and as he grits his teeth hard and his lips pull back from them at the way too familiar metal slides too easily into him, he silently promises himself that he'll do better this time. Last longer.
Be stronger...]
hn-
[his eyes stay fixed on her face because even in pain - and frankly, at the moment, the terror at what's coming is still much stronger than the relative pain of her blade - he needs to see her. Needs to know that she's okay. She's not hurt, she's here, and even if things are different, her eyes are still green with life and the color of being alive is still over her skin.]
She knew it would be there, and it still makes her wince when it oozes out. He's bleeding. On a distant level she thinks stop, heal him, but that thought never reaches the dream's reality because she isn't a healer. She's --
-- sawing in steadily, her fingers turning red, when did she forget gloves? How careless. She lets go of the scalpel for the moment, letting it rest where it is in his arm and feeling a very slight sense of nausea (this is silly, she is a scientist, she has done biopsies before!)
She looks at him, her expression guarded, but trepidation still shows through. He is looking at her. His blood is on her hands. Somehow, for all the pain and terror in them, his eyes don't reflect that fact, and -- ]
Stop it.
[ She's torn between frustration, hurt, and guilt, and that last one especially has no place in the laboratory. But when she turns away from him to the sink to clean her hands, there isn't even a single drop of water in its faucet. Turn on, turn off, turn on: nothing. ]
[ Shouldn't be so easy to forget hurting someone. ]
[ But this is what goes on in a lab, so when she comes back she tries to choke those out-of-place feelings down. The scalpel is removed with a slight pull and she moves on, above one of the bands holding him down, closer to the shoulder. Once more there's blood running over her fingers, trailing to puddle on the table. ]
I feel sick. [ Very, very quietly, it's said without meaning to. ]
[she's sawing, a untrained, messy way to get to the meat and bone of him, using an instrument too small for the damage she wants to do. Without potions or materia, she'll cripple him in that arm, cutting against the grain of the muscle. He's been cut apart and open enough to know the difference and he pants between his clenched teeth in the brief moments when there's a pause, sweat leaping out against his skin as his arm instinctively tries to escape from the torture. He's locked down fast though and when she moves to the sink briefly, he's left sucking air into his tight lungs, the sound shaking.
Something's wrong.
He can see it in her face, in her eyes. She's not at peace. He's seen her lost and uncertain before and he sees it in her eyes now when she's not paying attention and it tears at his heart just as messily as what she's doing to ruin his arm does. She's not... this isn't right.
She comes back and moves on to another part of his arm, butchering it and the sound of pain grunts out of him to the point that he has to close his eyes briefly against it. He's had worse. Will have worse. But there's no belittling the feel of that alien metal digging messy grooves into him. His blue eyes, pain tinted, fly open at her whisper though and it focuses him entirely on her.
This is wrong. She shouldn't - be doing this. Not because he doesn't deserve it, because he knows he does - but because it's not her. This... isn't her. His voice is raw at its edges, the screaming he's swallowed instead of letting loose but he fights for control of it and so it stays quiet and steady.]
Then stop. Aerith... please. It's okay. You can stop.
I'm sorry if this is a letdown D: Aerith did NOT take to science wellauncyenhaligJune 9 2011, 14:49:53 UTC
[ ooc: not a surprise, pfft, but it was tougher than I thought it'd be. ]
[ It's the second time he's said her name. Not a code or number. Not a title. It reminds her that there are places outside the labs where people are treated as more than vats of knowledge or slabs of meat, and the scalpel stops its brutal sawing. She's been out there. How could she forget? ]
[ She shakes her head, her left hand brushing bangs back out of habit and shaking more than her head is. The blood spreads. ] No, it's not okay. I hurt you ... [ She looks at him again, at glowing blue eyes like skies seen secondhand, and finally sees the person. ] Cloud?
[ It wasn't a shock of horror she felt, because it was already horrifying that she was hurting someone like this. But it was a cold twist in the guts to realize that Cloud had seen her, recognized the girl he'd protected now cutting him open, and given her permission.
There were so many things wrong here. This place wasn't good for him either. It made everyone sick. ]
[ ... need to wake up ... ]
You're getting out of here. [ The distress is still evident in her voice, but controlled by a focus now. She just has to open the restraints for him. ]
nonsense. I wasn't sure how much more vulnerable!Cloud/cold!Aerith I could handle myself - lolfindmyownreasonJune 9 2011, 22:00:01 UTC
(ooc. but danged was it fun!)
[she's upset and he's so much more concerned with that than the fact he's still leaking pain and blood. He winces when she wipes at her bangs and smears herself with the red of his pulse, not wanting her to end up fouled even more because of him. He's... confused. Lost. Should he have stopped her from cutting into him? He'd known it wasn't her but it had been her right. Had he made things worse for her thinking to earn a measure of penance for himself?
He'd been selfish again and paid more attention to what he thought instead of what she needed.
No matter what he does, he can't seem to do right by her. But he'll try. Gaia, help him, he'll keep trying.
And that means getting her out of here and away from all of this.]
Under the table.
[his voice comes out throaty and he clears it dryly to try to fix the sound. He tries to flex the fingers of his mutilated hand and they twitch sporadically. But he can use his swords with his other hand just as well...]
They usually put the switch for the restraints under the table at the edge.
it was fun! I'm glad I tried it.auncyenhaligJune 10 2011, 14:55:03 UTC
[ Disturbingly enough, he's right. She hadn't even remembered. Maybe she'd never known. Children weren't encouraged to watch the operations, even if they still heard enough by living on the same floor and sometimes caught glimpses. ]
What a smart bo ... [ Can she still call him bodyguard? ] I mean, I didn't think SOLDIERs would know about this. [ Her hand finds the switch, fingers pushing it down without reservation, but she's already frowning at her words. She's rambling out of her own confusion, because there are so many strange things about Cloud already and this dream is piling on another (and she was terrible to him, but he's not even a little angry). ] It doesn't matter. You can move around now!
Your arm ... [ It needs to be cared for, even if she feels a frisson of anxiety looking at it. Then there's the flimsy and hateful lab coat on her. It's not hard to decide. She shucks the coat and begins ripping off two long strips of cloth to cover the wounds she inflicted, though she'll try healing them too.
But that's not enough. Her eyes find his face. ]
I'm sorry, Cloud. Really, really ... You didn't deserve that. No one does. [ A tiny bit of her is afraid he'll finally realize this and get mad at her at last.
... She'd figure out how to deal with it, though. And it would be better than him believing he deserves to be hurt, or that anyone deserves to dish out pain and terror like that. ]
me too! I never would have thought of this on my ownfindmyownreasonJune 10 2011, 16:12:57 UTC
[he feels the pressure from the bands loosen and he jerks upright with something akin to panic, leftover from being so helpless. With his good arm he rips the bands the rest of the way off and then proceeds to, with deadly calm and control, rip each one out of its slot. The metal edges cut into his good palm but it's worth it. For a minute - just a minute - he lets himself pretend he doesn't hear Aerith's suspicion.
Yeah. She wouldn't know about his illusionary world. She was - gone by the time it had all come crashing down...
Her worry about his arm though has him looking down at it himself. It's throbbing with the low thudding throb of severed muscle and exposed bone and he tries to be a man and look critically at it but it just makes him a little sick to his stomach and his eyes skid to the side, focusing on her now that she's free of that misfit coat. It helps. It helps more than anything and he focuses all his attention on her face while she bandages him. It calms the quiet panic that's been screaming in the back of his skull, mindless and animalistic, this entire time.
He feels the flickers of her healing moving through his arm but he's too concerned with what he hears in her too brittle voice and sees in the glints of her green eyes to notice how much it works and how much is left raw.
She hurting. And, for the first time, he understands exactly how she feels. So when she looks at him with all that pain and her beautiful heart in her eyes, his lips twitch upward at their very edges and he lifts his good hand to soothe a hand tenderly over her hair, brushing the side of her head and unintentionally leaving streaks of red from where the iron bands cut his palm. His throat feels a little raw with all the screaming he wouldn't do and so he whispers the words to keep them soft for her.]
It's okay, Aerith. I'm okay.
[he's awkward about touch, still even after everything, but he thinks she's been more traumatized than he has and his hand slips around to the back of her shoulder, nudging her closer to him and the way he's now sitting on the lab table with his legs over the side. He lowers his head, offering her the shelter of his body if she wants it - just for a minute. He knows she's strong - but he also knows how much simply having someone else to lean on for a few seconds can mean.]
/depraved mindauncyenhaligJune 11 2011, 00:08:36 UTC
[ He's certainly exercising his ability to move around. The ferocity of the gesture startles Aerith at first, but she doesn't show it besides paying a little more attention to him as she rips the bandages. Because to be honest, if she were strong enough, she wouldn't think twice about doing the same.
She's barely finished healing when he smooths down her hair; she tilts her head, easing into the gesture. There's the slight stickiness of liquid as he moves his hand, which is then felt at the edge of her ear lobe. They're all a mess and it's his blood but he says he's okay. ]
Cloud ... [ His name is murmured wonderingly as she looks up at him.
He's comforting her, even though he's the one who got hurt. Even though he has to whisper the words because she upset him so much. In Aerith's view they just met a couple nights ago, so even though she knows he's a good person, the seemingly unconditional kindness and warmth are baffling because they don't match up to what she's seen of him so far, and her face makes that evident. Then she realizes: he understands how she feels. He understands.
... She always thought it would be wonderful to find someone who understood. At a moment like this, it's scary and worrying. It makes her think of how he knew about the restraints release again. That ...
She steps forward and slips her arms around him, careful not to move his hurt arm. She briefly bows her head against his offered shelter and hopes her gesture offers something in return too. Comfort. Gratitude. These labs may try to trap her, but there is a whole world outside of them. She's connected to that world now. She doesn't have to be a scared little girl, and she doesn't have to turn into something warped. She'll be herself, as strong as she can be, and that will find a way to be enough. Because there are good people like Cloud.
She steps back and gives him space again with a slight smile. ] We will be. ... Don't worry about me, Cloud. I feel better now! And you have to take care of yourself.
[his hand comes up and cups the back of her head as she hugs him and - for just a moment - the entire world is right again. He lets his eyes shut and tries to soak the passing moment in. But then she's letting go and stepping back and he's aware that just because he's free doesn't mean they're safe. He slips off the table gingerly, already bracing himself with his good hand when the vertigo hits. He has to fight back the urge to throw up. He's been through this too many times, come off a table like that one too many times, and it never gets easier. This time he's doing it under his own power though and there's no one restraining him or drugs coursing sick and poison through his blood. So he doesn't vomit and he raises his head even though the memories and the motion have the sweat breaking out across his skin again.
He ignores her remand to take care of himself. He's not here to take care of himself. He's here to take care of her. His eyes search the lab.]
/makes stuff up for weapon confiscation they didn't do in-game lol Shinra securityauncyenhaligJune 12 2011, 03:56:31 UTC
Steady, steady ... Cloud. [ He was going steady, but it's obvious the moment after he gets off the table that simply being here strains him so much. She stays near, her hands rising up in a way that makes it obvious she's worried he might lose balance. And he doesn't let himself rest, which makes her cheeks puff out in frustration. ] I'm serious, don't push yourself -- ! Oh.
[ His sword. It's been only them in the labs so far, but that doesn't mean it will stay that way. Aerith turns quickly this way and that, checking where it might be before she realizes and stands in front of what could be a small closet -- in fact a storage locker for confiscated items. ]
Over here, Cloud. [ There's a lock on the door, but Cloud is a SOLDIER. She thinks he can open it. ] OK, and we're resting as soon as we can. [ But not right now, because there are other people. That's how ... isn't that how she got here? It's hard to remember or keep her thought going past the here and now. At some point there was a sedative, she thinks. The real sensations and all the thoughts and dreams and images that followed are difficult to sort out; this right now is just as real as anything. They have to focus on getting out. ]
the same security that mistakes Cloud for a Shinra grunt and lets them on the elevator for 5 gil? XDfindmyownreasonJune 12 2011, 20:36:33 UTC
[he lets her do the searching, concentrating on his breathing and fighting the sick feeling in his gut. As sessions on the table go that one was mild - but it's the sensation of being strapped down on the table in the first place and everything it's brought back with it that is threatening to wreck him. When he hadn't remembered, the ShinRa labs had been bad enough. With his memories more or less intact now...
He's just going to be relieved to breathe air that isn't chemical tainted and he feels sorry for anyone that tries to get in his way between here and wherever that ended up being.
Aerith's call comes to him and he nods, stepping away from the table where his blood is still congealing and moving on feet that get steadier as he leaves that table further behind him to join her. The soft sound he makes in his throat is acknowledgement and gratitude. He'll feel better when he has his sword back.
The lock is nothing. He simply finds a strong enough length of metal and levers it between the door and its hinges on one side. A little applied strength and the entire weak metal door bends with a grind of protest and then the hinges break. He slides fingers in and simply pulls, parting the rest of the door from its frame on that side. His shoulder on the side that's bandaged twinges a little but he ignores it. Usually he downplays his strength to make the people around him feel more comfortable but he's in a hurry and Aerith... Aerith accepts him despite the mako eyes and the not so human physical aspects of him. Somehow... somehow he thinks it isn't just because of Zack that she's that way.
What he finds in the closet has him blinking but he just shakes his head, passing first her staff back to her and then pulling the Buster sword free. He isn't sure where his own sword is but the Buster's an old friend, without a trace of wear or rust on it somehow and it's never failed him before.
Besides... Zack's sword doesn't belong anywhere ShinRa's grubby little paws can get on it. Twirling it once to reacquaint himself with the feel of it, he nods again and his eyes find Aerith.]
and posts sleepy guards at the security feeds!auncyenhaligJune 13 2011, 13:52:24 UTC
[ She isn't surprised that he's so focused on his sword for the moment, not when she's been worried about being defenseless. An unarmed SOLDIER is still a SOLDIER, but when you've carried something long enough ...
That is, it's very obvious she's relieved when he hands her back her rod, simple as it is. She's further relieved to see how he handles the Buster sword -- even if's still strange to see him with it -- but somehow it fits him and that twirl and nod seem to say he's finding some self-assurance again.
They need as much confidence as they can get right now. ]
Right. [ She's reaching for his hand to grasp before she thinks twice and takes it back. Nothing flirtatious about it, just a desire for security, but then again it's probably not smart to tie up hands and fingers right now. Especially with his arm. ] All we have to do is get to the elevator. That won't be so bad.
[ ooc: would you be OK with Aerith starting to wake up a little and hearing voices that get mixed up with her still dreaming? Stuff like Hojo and an assistant talking -- I just thought of it but I didn't want to spring anything weirder on you.
Or they could run into one of the stranger specimens ... ]
man, I love the FFVII verse. the most awesome 'it made sense at the time!' storylinefindmyownreasonJune 14 2011, 07:30:40 UTC
[he grunts at her decision. The elevator at the back of the lab and then down the hall to the stairs. Public elevators after that.
And this time he's not putting up with Turk interference.
Or letting everyone go their own way.
Firm, he catches Aerith's hand with his damaged one. He caught the move and he understands it. But he also understands that it gives him the ability to pull her behind him if something shows up as well as the assurance that nothing else is going to grab her and take her away. There's a growing anger inside of him that he doesn't understand entirely but a part of it is definitely wrapped around anyone trying to hurt her or take her away from him - again. He's done with that and he's not the weak puppet he once was either. The smart move is to make it out of here undetected but the urge to find something to lash out at is strong too. Instead he just takes a deep breath and concentrates on the Buster's weight in his right hand, hilt familiar against his bare palm.
One thing at a time. Get Aerith out of these damned lab rooms.]
This way.
[despite the anger starting to seethe inside his voice is calm and flat and he's sure of where he's going as he heads for the back of the lab, angling behind supplies and empty tanks.
If Aerith wasn't here he just might be tempted to unleash blade beam...]
((ooc. hearing voices and whatnot is fine with me! :D Do whatever you'd like and we'll roll with it. Cloud wouldn't mind a monster fight as some point as well. Seems he's a bit peeved for some reason...))
ooh boy I'm being the sleepy guard right nowauncyenhaligJune 16 2011, 06:04:17 UTC
[ His hand is tense. Not enough to hurt her, but the stiffness is obvious. Her own fingers are rigid between his, wrapped around her staff -- for her the impulse to fight and retaliate is next to nonexistent, especially doused by realizing her cruelty to Cloud earlier. ]
[ She only wants for them to get out. For them to be safe and okay and laugh at how scared they felt from a far enough distance. ]
Mm! [ Her response is brightly-pitched as she follows him, checking behind constantly in case something comes from that way. What she sees is a brighter light where it wasn't before. It smarts her eyes. As she blinks it away, she almost misses the silhouette entirely; when her eyes open again, there's just the lab, and all its lights are in place. ]
"... 82%. " [ The voice, male and muffled, seems to come from both far and close at once. ] "Inferior. But still useful ..." [ And then the voice fades out to a more quiet level, words becoming indistinct. Aerith looks around worriedly before giving a quiet, quick laugh, pulling abreast of Cloud for the moment. ]
Wow. They all talk so weird, right Cloud? Who knows what he's going on about. [ Even if there's a hint at what sounds like Ancient, she steadfastly ignores it. ] He doesn't sound very happy about it!
[ There's the elevator, up past another row of boxes. Who organized this place? She just hopes it's not in use right now. ]
ha! well, I'm sure nothing at all will possible go wrong if you arefindmyownreasonJune 17 2011, 08:46:09 UTC
[he shoots her a vaguely worried look over his shoulder as they reach the elevator. He doesn't hear anything.
And he's the last person in the world to call someone on hearing voices.
Instead he just grunts a sound to show he's listening but otherwise leaves it non-committal. Not letting go of her hand, he mashes the button to call the transport elevator and then pulls her to the side so that, if anything or anyone decides to come up with the lift, they'll know it first. Protective he tucks her in against his side, worried less about his drying blood possibly smearing her and more about keeping her close and warm and safe in this place of horrors. It seems like some cosmic joke that, finally after all this time, he has her back - and it's in a place like this.
But he's got her back and that's all that really matters.
The grinding of the elevator nears them and his grip on the Buster tightens. Come what may - he's keeping her this time.]
nah, I'd just been hoping to stay up that night. :)auncyenhaligJune 17 2011, 10:23:39 UTC
[ He doesn't have to say anything for her to know from that look that he's unsettled -- because of what the voice is saying or because it doesn't belong in the first place, she's not sure. Either way she tries to assuage that doubt: ] Don't worry, Cloud. It's not important!
[ When he moves, she shifts aside with him with a surprised glance before she realizes the point: this way they see anyone coming up the elevator before they're seen. At any other time she'd get miffed at him being so protective. She's still a little upset about his own vulnerability. But she knows right now she needs protection, and if she goes along with him she can better look out for him when he needs protection. She may not be SOLDIER-tough, but she's a healer. ]
... I hear something. [ Something that just slithers right out of the elevator, though another creature pads out more quietly not too far behind, its fangs glistening with poison. Aerith takes in a breath, hefting the staff in her hands defensively. ]
[he makes the quiet, cut off sound when the metal tip breaks his skin and his brows come down hard as he locks his jaw. It hurts. But no where near as badly as it's going to. Whether it's that she'll move on to enough of his body that the small pains will multiple and become unbearable or if she'll just keep sawing and peeling until she hits bone and the metal scrapes - eventually it's going to be too much for him. His blood runs down his arm, red and alive, puddling on the stainless metal of the table. It taints the air with it's copper and ozone smell, and he knows it will congeal by the time she's done, sticky and dark the same way he knows by the time that happens he'll be too far gone to care.
Tifa's going to be pissed if he comes home filthy again.
...won't fix anything...
He knows that. She doesn't have to tell him but he takes the blow to his heart that she feels as if she needs to say so as another cut he deserves. Of course it won't fix anything. There's no 'fixing' someone's murder. All the places she'll never get to see. All the things she'll never get to do.
All the people she's been torn away from. The life she would have had...
This isn't about fixing. It's about giving her what she deserves. Or at least a little of it. She deserves more and as he grits his teeth hard and his lips pull back from them at the way too familiar metal slides too easily into him, he silently promises himself that he'll do better this time. Last longer.
Be stronger...]
hn-
[his eyes stay fixed on her face because even in pain - and frankly, at the moment, the terror at what's coming is still much stronger than the relative pain of her blade - he needs to see her. Needs to know that she's okay. She's not hurt, she's here, and even if things are different, her eyes are still green with life and the color of being alive is still over her skin.]
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She knew it would be there, and it still makes her wince when it oozes out. He's bleeding. On a distant level she thinks stop, heal him, but that thought never reaches the dream's reality because she isn't a healer. She's --
-- sawing in steadily, her fingers turning red, when did she forget gloves? How careless. She lets go of the scalpel for the moment, letting it rest where it is in his arm and feeling a very slight sense of nausea (this is silly, she is a scientist, she has done biopsies before!)
She looks at him, her expression guarded, but trepidation still shows through. He is looking at her. His blood is on her hands. Somehow, for all the pain and terror in them, his eyes don't reflect that fact, and -- ]
Stop it.
[ She's torn between frustration, hurt, and guilt, and that last one especially has no place in the laboratory. But when she turns away from him to the sink to clean her hands, there isn't even a single drop of water in its faucet. Turn on, turn off, turn on: nothing. ]
[ Shouldn't be so easy to forget hurting someone. ]
[ But this is what goes on in a lab, so when she comes back she tries to choke those out-of-place feelings down. The scalpel is removed with a slight pull and she moves on, above one of the bands holding him down, closer to the shoulder. Once more there's blood running over her fingers, trailing to puddle on the table. ]
I feel sick. [ Very, very quietly, it's said without meaning to. ]
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Something's wrong.
He can see it in her face, in her eyes. She's not at peace. He's seen her lost and uncertain before and he sees it in her eyes now when she's not paying attention and it tears at his heart just as messily as what she's doing to ruin his arm does. She's not... this isn't right.
She comes back and moves on to another part of his arm, butchering it and the sound of pain grunts out of him to the point that he has to close his eyes briefly against it. He's had worse. Will have worse. But there's no belittling the feel of that alien metal digging messy grooves into him. His blue eyes, pain tinted, fly open at her whisper though and it focuses him entirely on her.
This is wrong. She shouldn't - be doing this. Not because he doesn't deserve it, because he knows he does - but because it's not her. This... isn't her. His voice is raw at its edges, the screaming he's swallowed instead of letting loose but he fights for control of it and so it stays quiet and steady.]
Then stop. Aerith... please. It's okay. You can stop.
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[ It's the second time he's said her name. Not a code or number. Not a title. It reminds her that there are places outside the labs where people are treated as more than vats of knowledge or slabs of meat, and the scalpel stops its brutal sawing. She's been out there. How could she forget? ]
[ She shakes her head, her left hand brushing bangs back out of habit and shaking more than her head is. The blood spreads. ] No, it's not okay. I hurt you ... [ She looks at him again, at glowing blue eyes like skies seen secondhand, and finally sees the person. ] Cloud?
[ It wasn't a shock of horror she felt, because it was already horrifying that she was hurting someone like this. But it was a cold twist in the guts to realize that Cloud had seen her, recognized the girl he'd protected now cutting him open, and given her permission.
There were so many things wrong here. This place wasn't good for him either. It made everyone sick. ]
[ ... need to wake up ... ]
You're getting out of here. [ The distress is still evident in her voice, but controlled by a focus now. She just has to open the restraints for him. ]
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[she's upset and he's so much more concerned with that than the fact he's still leaking pain and blood. He winces when she wipes at her bangs and smears herself with the red of his pulse, not wanting her to end up fouled even more because of him. He's... confused. Lost. Should he have stopped her from cutting into him? He'd known it wasn't her but it had been her right. Had he made things worse for her thinking to earn a measure of penance for himself?
He'd been selfish again and paid more attention to what he thought instead of what she needed.
No matter what he does, he can't seem to do right by her. But he'll try. Gaia, help him, he'll keep trying.
And that means getting her out of here and away from all of this.]
Under the table.
[his voice comes out throaty and he clears it dryly to try to fix the sound. He tries to flex the fingers of his mutilated hand and they twitch sporadically. But he can use his swords with his other hand just as well...]
They usually put the switch for the restraints under the table at the edge.
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What a smart bo ... [ Can she still call him bodyguard? ] I mean, I didn't think SOLDIERs would know about this. [ Her hand finds the switch, fingers pushing it down without reservation, but she's already frowning at her words. She's rambling out of her own confusion, because there are so many strange things about Cloud already and this dream is piling on another (and she was terrible to him, but he's not even a little angry). ] It doesn't matter. You can move around now!
Your arm ... [ It needs to be cared for, even if she feels a frisson of anxiety looking at it. Then there's the flimsy and hateful lab coat on her. It's not hard to decide. She shucks the coat and begins ripping off two long strips of cloth to cover the wounds she inflicted, though she'll try healing them too.
But that's not enough. Her eyes find his face. ]
I'm sorry, Cloud. Really, really ... You didn't deserve that. No one does. [ A tiny bit of her is afraid he'll finally realize this and get mad at her at last.
... She'd figure out how to deal with it, though. And it would be better than him believing he deserves to be hurt, or that anyone deserves to dish out pain and terror like that. ]
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Yeah. She wouldn't know about his illusionary world. She was - gone by the time it had all come crashing down...
Her worry about his arm though has him looking down at it himself. It's throbbing with the low thudding throb of severed muscle and exposed bone and he tries to be a man and look critically at it but it just makes him a little sick to his stomach and his eyes skid to the side, focusing on her now that she's free of that misfit coat. It helps. It helps more than anything and he focuses all his attention on her face while she bandages him. It calms the quiet panic that's been screaming in the back of his skull, mindless and animalistic, this entire time.
She's here. She's safe. She's alive. She's... her.
He feels the flickers of her healing moving through his arm but he's too concerned with what he hears in her too brittle voice and sees in the glints of her green eyes to notice how much it works and how much is left raw.
She hurting. And, for the first time, he understands exactly how she feels. So when she looks at him with all that pain and her beautiful heart in her eyes, his lips twitch upward at their very edges and he lifts his good hand to soothe a hand tenderly over her hair, brushing the side of her head and unintentionally leaving streaks of red from where the iron bands cut his palm. His throat feels a little raw with all the screaming he wouldn't do and so he whispers the words to keep them soft for her.]
It's okay, Aerith. I'm okay.
[he's awkward about touch, still even after everything, but he thinks she's been more traumatized than he has and his hand slips around to the back of her shoulder, nudging her closer to him and the way he's now sitting on the lab table with his legs over the side. He lowers his head, offering her the shelter of his body if she wants it - just for a minute. He knows she's strong - but he also knows how much simply having someone else to lean on for a few seconds can mean.]
It's okay. We're okay.
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She's barely finished healing when he smooths down her hair; she tilts her head, easing into the gesture. There's the slight stickiness of liquid as he moves his hand, which is then felt at the edge of her ear lobe. They're all a mess and it's his blood but he says he's okay. ]
Cloud ... [ His name is murmured wonderingly as she looks up at him.
He's comforting her, even though he's the one who got hurt. Even though he has to whisper the words because she upset him so much. In Aerith's view they just met a couple nights ago, so even though she knows he's a good person, the seemingly unconditional kindness and warmth are baffling because they don't match up to what she's seen of him so far, and her face makes that evident. Then she realizes: he understands how she feels. He understands.
... She always thought it would be wonderful to find someone who understood. At a moment like this, it's scary and worrying. It makes her think of how he knew about the restraints release again. That ...
She steps forward and slips her arms around him, careful not to move his hurt arm. She briefly bows her head against his offered shelter and hopes her gesture offers something in return too. Comfort. Gratitude. These labs may try to trap her, but there is a whole world outside of them. She's connected to that world now. She doesn't have to be a scared little girl, and she doesn't have to turn into something warped. She'll be herself, as strong as she can be, and that will find a way to be enough. Because there are good people like Cloud.
She steps back and gives him space again with a slight smile. ] We will be. ... Don't worry about me, Cloud. I feel better now! And you have to take care of yourself.
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He ignores her remand to take care of himself. He's not here to take care of himself. He's here to take care of her. His eyes search the lab.]
I need my sword.
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[ His sword. It's been only them in the labs so far, but that doesn't mean it will stay that way. Aerith turns quickly this way and that, checking where it might be before she realizes and stands in front of what could be a small closet -- in fact a storage locker for confiscated items. ]
Over here, Cloud. [ There's a lock on the door, but Cloud is a SOLDIER. She thinks he can open it. ] OK, and we're resting as soon as we can. [ But not right now, because there are other people. That's how ... isn't that how she got here? It's hard to remember or keep her thought going past the here and now. At some point there was a sedative, she thinks. The real sensations and all the thoughts and dreams and images that followed are difficult to sort out; this right now is just as real as anything. They have to focus on getting out. ]
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He's just going to be relieved to breathe air that isn't chemical tainted and he feels sorry for anyone that tries to get in his way between here and wherever that ended up being.
Aerith's call comes to him and he nods, stepping away from the table where his blood is still congealing and moving on feet that get steadier as he leaves that table further behind him to join her. The soft sound he makes in his throat is acknowledgement and gratitude. He'll feel better when he has his sword back.
The lock is nothing. He simply finds a strong enough length of metal and levers it between the door and its hinges on one side. A little applied strength and the entire weak metal door bends with a grind of protest and then the hinges break. He slides fingers in and simply pulls, parting the rest of the door from its frame on that side. His shoulder on the side that's bandaged twinges a little but he ignores it. Usually he downplays his strength to make the people around him feel more comfortable but he's in a hurry and Aerith... Aerith accepts him despite the mako eyes and the not so human physical aspects of him. Somehow... somehow he thinks it isn't just because of Zack that she's that way.
What he finds in the closet has him blinking but he just shakes his head, passing first her staff back to her and then pulling the Buster sword free. He isn't sure where his own sword is but the Buster's an old friend, without a trace of wear or rust on it somehow and it's never failed him before.
Besides... Zack's sword doesn't belong anywhere ShinRa's grubby little paws can get on it. Twirling it once to reacquaint himself with the feel of it, he nods again and his eyes find Aerith.]
Let's get out of here.
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That is, it's very obvious she's relieved when he hands her back her rod, simple as it is. She's further relieved to see how he handles the Buster sword -- even if's still strange to see him with it -- but somehow it fits him and that twirl and nod seem to say he's finding some self-assurance again.
They need as much confidence as they can get right now. ]
Right. [ She's reaching for his hand to grasp before she thinks twice and takes it back. Nothing flirtatious about it, just a desire for security, but then again it's probably not smart to tie up hands and fingers right now. Especially with his arm. ] All we have to do is get to the elevator. That won't be so bad.
[ ooc: would you be OK with Aerith starting to wake up a little and hearing voices that get mixed up with her still dreaming? Stuff like Hojo and an assistant talking -- I just thought of it but I didn't want to spring anything weirder on you.
Or they could run into one of the stranger specimens ... ]
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And this time he's not putting up with Turk interference.
Or letting everyone go their own way.
Firm, he catches Aerith's hand with his damaged one. He caught the move and he understands it. But he also understands that it gives him the ability to pull her behind him if something shows up as well as the assurance that nothing else is going to grab her and take her away. There's a growing anger inside of him that he doesn't understand entirely but a part of it is definitely wrapped around anyone trying to hurt her or take her away from him - again. He's done with that and he's not the weak puppet he once was either. The smart move is to make it out of here undetected but the urge to find something to lash out at is strong too. Instead he just takes a deep breath and concentrates on the Buster's weight in his right hand, hilt familiar against his bare palm.
One thing at a time. Get Aerith out of these damned lab rooms.]
This way.
[despite the anger starting to seethe inside his voice is calm and flat and he's sure of where he's going as he heads for the back of the lab, angling behind supplies and empty tanks.
If Aerith wasn't here he just might be tempted to unleash blade beam...]
((ooc. hearing voices and whatnot is fine with me! :D Do whatever you'd like and we'll roll with it. Cloud wouldn't mind a monster fight as some point as well. Seems he's a bit peeved for some reason...))
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[ She only wants for them to get out. For them to be safe and okay and laugh at how scared they felt from a far enough distance. ]
Mm! [ Her response is brightly-pitched as she follows him, checking behind constantly in case something comes from that way. What she sees is a brighter light where it wasn't before. It smarts her eyes. As she blinks it away, she almost misses the silhouette entirely; when her eyes open again, there's just the lab, and all its lights are in place. ]
"... 82%. " [ The voice, male and muffled, seems to come from both far and close at once. ] "Inferior. But still useful ..." [ And then the voice fades out to a more quiet level, words becoming indistinct. Aerith looks around worriedly before giving a quiet, quick laugh, pulling abreast of Cloud for the moment. ]
Wow. They all talk so weird, right Cloud? Who knows what he's going on about. [ Even if there's a hint at what sounds like Ancient, she steadfastly ignores it. ] He doesn't sound very happy about it!
[ There's the elevator, up past another row of boxes. Who organized this place? She just hopes it's not in use right now. ]
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And he's the last person in the world to call someone on hearing voices.
Instead he just grunts a sound to show he's listening but otherwise leaves it non-committal. Not letting go of her hand, he mashes the button to call the transport elevator and then pulls her to the side so that, if anything or anyone decides to come up with the lift, they'll know it first. Protective he tucks her in against his side, worried less about his drying blood possibly smearing her and more about keeping her close and warm and safe in this place of horrors. It seems like some cosmic joke that, finally after all this time, he has her back - and it's in a place like this.
But he's got her back and that's all that really matters.
The grinding of the elevator nears them and his grip on the Buster tightens. Come what may - he's keeping her this time.]
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[ When he moves, she shifts aside with him with a surprised glance before she realizes the point: this way they see anyone coming up the elevator before they're seen. At any other time she'd get miffed at him being so protective. She's still a little upset about his own vulnerability. But she knows right now she needs protection, and if she goes along with him she can better look out for him when he needs protection. She may not be SOLDIER-tough, but she's a healer. ]
... I hear something. [ Something that just slithers right out of the elevator, though another creature pads out more quietly not too far behind, its fangs glistening with poison. Aerith takes in a breath, hefting the staff in her hands defensively. ]
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