Cid only thinks he's got it all together
Continued from here: http://pegunicent.livejournal.com/116488.html#cutid1
Warning, not brainsafe or worksafe. Bad things of a sexual nature kiddies.
Cid liked to think of himself as the reliable one. The *sane* one. He may not be as tough physically as Cloud and Leon, or as magically prowess as Aeris, but he was solid and reliable and he got things done. Things like making sure the gummies worked, the house didn't leak, the tea was made. Things no one else could do or do *right*.
He left the worrying to Aeris, the mischief to Yuffie, the angst to Cloud and Leon, and for the most part they all lived okay together. It helped that they all had history.
Except Leon. But Leon didn't have history with anyone and he made not a point not to make new history either. The guy was a loner to his marrow. The only times Cid had to deal with him were when he needed his gummy fixed or they happened to meet at the same time for something in the kitchen.
Cid liked his workshop. He liked gummies and space and keeping his hands busy. He *hated* Leon's ship. The design was alright, a bit heavy on the armor and light on weaponry, but the *condition* was deplorable. Alright, so Leon had been in Traverse Town before any of them, okay, he designed and built the thing himself and he wasn't a master mechanic, but half the equipment either didn't work, or had no purpose Cid could fathom, and the rest of it was so beat up it took every ounce of Cid's skill to keep the damned thing from leaking oxygen into vacume and killing Leon everytime the asshole vetured over to the collosium on a death wish.
Which has no bearing on why you're chewing that ciggarette to bity bits.
Sometimes Cid thought he might be going crazy to hear Valentine's voice in his head. Especialy since Valentine probably didn't know *how* to say the word bity.
Your sanity has always been a negotiable thing. You should be more worried about *his* though
Leon could take care of himself. He was a big boy with a badass blade and everything. He'd brushed off Aeris's questions and set his own hand after he'd Cure'd it enough for there to be something to set. He was a tough guy who didn't need or want an old man poking into his life.
You aren't that old, and he isn't as young as he seems. And you're avoiding the issue. A bad habit for an honest man.
Cid growled and gave Leon's ship another hard glare, fingers clenched too tightly around a wrench that by rights should have a meeting schedualed with a mop of brown hair. He wasn't worried about the guy. No one worried about Leon. No one had to. He was a rock.
And about as charming. I'd be worried, if my friend were showing signs of becoming badly unhinged. Possibly even dangerous.
Leon was about as dangerous to them as a butterfly. Even if he did go nutso and evil and decide to shishkabob puppies, Cloud was an old hand at putting former friends out of their misery. And the blond was so good at being miserable it seemed a shame to deprive him of a new source for emo.
Of course, as Cloud's friend Cid was a bit obligated to keep the levels of angst from reaching hieghts that made mass homicide seem like a meaningful and amusing hobby, as opposed to a direly needed genetic chlorine bath.
This place is short on capable defenders, and if he takes himself out of the picture, who will continue to teach the keyblade master?
Sora was a good kid. Leon... hell, Cid wasn't sure what all was between those two except some hero-worship and testosterone. But Sora sought Leon out, talked about his problems, challanged him for acceptance.
And looked at that way, loosing Leon might loose them a piece of the prophesied savior.
Two days ago Cid wouldn't have bothered to even question Leon's dedication. He was the epitome of the anit-hero.
Typically, anti-hero's don't go around inflicting bodily harm on themselves while writhing in imagined intercourse. Typically.
Cid snorted. The blood on that wall was still there, iron etched into the brick work. What he'd seen, crouched on a roof talking to the voice of a deceased vampire in his head, had been more than frustration and abuse of a brown stone. There had been some kind of battle going on, and Leon, badass that he was, hadn't completely won it.
Which left Cid with the strange and uncomfortable position of knowing a secret he didn't want. What exactly was he supposed to do for a guy who'd never spoken more than ten words to him in the four years they lived together?
You could inform him of his gummies sad fate as an overgrown paperweight, to start with.
Warning, not brainsafe or worksafe. Bad things of a sexual nature kiddies.
Cid liked to think of himself as the reliable one. The *sane* one. He may not be as tough physically as Cloud and Leon, or as magically prowess as Aeris, but he was solid and reliable and he got things done. Things like making sure the gummies worked, the house didn't leak, the tea was made. Things no one else could do or do *right*.
He left the worrying to Aeris, the mischief to Yuffie, the angst to Cloud and Leon, and for the most part they all lived okay together. It helped that they all had history.
Except Leon. But Leon didn't have history with anyone and he made not a point not to make new history either. The guy was a loner to his marrow. The only times Cid had to deal with him were when he needed his gummy fixed or they happened to meet at the same time for something in the kitchen.
Cid liked his workshop. He liked gummies and space and keeping his hands busy. He *hated* Leon's ship. The design was alright, a bit heavy on the armor and light on weaponry, but the *condition* was deplorable. Alright, so Leon had been in Traverse Town before any of them, okay, he designed and built the thing himself and he wasn't a master mechanic, but half the equipment either didn't work, or had no purpose Cid could fathom, and the rest of it was so beat up it took every ounce of Cid's skill to keep the damned thing from leaking oxygen into vacume and killing Leon everytime the asshole vetured over to the collosium on a death wish.
Which has no bearing on why you're chewing that ciggarette to bity bits.
Sometimes Cid thought he might be going crazy to hear Valentine's voice in his head. Especialy since Valentine probably didn't know *how* to say the word bity.
Your sanity has always been a negotiable thing. You should be more worried about *his* though
Leon could take care of himself. He was a big boy with a badass blade and everything. He'd brushed off Aeris's questions and set his own hand after he'd Cure'd it enough for there to be something to set. He was a tough guy who didn't need or want an old man poking into his life.
You aren't that old, and he isn't as young as he seems. And you're avoiding the issue. A bad habit for an honest man.
Cid growled and gave Leon's ship another hard glare, fingers clenched too tightly around a wrench that by rights should have a meeting schedualed with a mop of brown hair. He wasn't worried about the guy. No one worried about Leon. No one had to. He was a rock.
And about as charming. I'd be worried, if my friend were showing signs of becoming badly unhinged. Possibly even dangerous.
Leon was about as dangerous to them as a butterfly. Even if he did go nutso and evil and decide to shishkabob puppies, Cloud was an old hand at putting former friends out of their misery. And the blond was so good at being miserable it seemed a shame to deprive him of a new source for emo.
Of course, as Cloud's friend Cid was a bit obligated to keep the levels of angst from reaching hieghts that made mass homicide seem like a meaningful and amusing hobby, as opposed to a direly needed genetic chlorine bath.
This place is short on capable defenders, and if he takes himself out of the picture, who will continue to teach the keyblade master?
Sora was a good kid. Leon... hell, Cid wasn't sure what all was between those two except some hero-worship and testosterone. But Sora sought Leon out, talked about his problems, challanged him for acceptance.
And looked at that way, loosing Leon might loose them a piece of the prophesied savior.
Two days ago Cid wouldn't have bothered to even question Leon's dedication. He was the epitome of the anit-hero.
Typically, anti-hero's don't go around inflicting bodily harm on themselves while writhing in imagined intercourse. Typically.
Cid snorted. The blood on that wall was still there, iron etched into the brick work. What he'd seen, crouched on a roof talking to the voice of a deceased vampire in his head, had been more than frustration and abuse of a brown stone. There had been some kind of battle going on, and Leon, badass that he was, hadn't completely won it.
Which left Cid with the strange and uncomfortable position of knowing a secret he didn't want. What exactly was he supposed to do for a guy who'd never spoken more than ten words to him in the four years they lived together?
You could inform him of his gummies sad fate as an overgrown paperweight, to start with.