[COMPLETE]
Who: Genesis, Angeal
When: Sometime after all of this.
Where: Angeal and Genesis' place.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Fluff? Ish? Genesis' tantrums.
Summary: Genesis is still a little out of sorts and Angeal attempts to cheer him up.
Her head hurt. She had a headache at the forefront of her brain; it had developed shortly after that night and held strong for the last few days. It didn't help that she was still female (it irritated her, not because she minded it so much as she minded what people had to say about it), or that those fucking Turks had to open their mouths... That, on top of the fact that she was still feeling... off-kilter made for a rather unhappy Genesis.
Rabid animal.
She leaned back against the wall, seated on the steps outside of her and Angeal's home, and she stared blankly at the book in her hands. Not Loveless, unfortunately, just something random she'd come across and was taking little interest in.
Rabid animal...
Grey eyes narrowed, gripping the corner of a page to turn it.
Fucking ShinRa dogs.
And, oh, they thought they were so wonderful, didn't they? Dogs. Every last one of them. Leaving their SOLDIERS to suffer and wither away, dying piece by piece and hunting - hunting them as though they were some sort of dangerous animal. They knew nothing. Self-righteous, self-centered, fucking dogs.
Her gaze began to wander, lifting off the pages that her fingers were starting to tear at, focusing on nothing in particular in the distance. Not entirely seeing much of anything. Was this it, then? Even in this place, was she going to feel like this? As though sanity was something so precious and carefully handled, that something so simple as the words of a mutt could send her so precariously close to the edge and leave her feeling exhausted and drained with the effort of pulling herself back up.
Genesis tore another chunk of the pages off, pinched between thumb and forefinger, gathering in her palm, movements so absent that it took awhile before she noticed just what she was doing. Her gaze dropped and her hand opened, allowing the paper within to tumble out. Tiny words on tiny scraps that no longer made any sense once pulled apart at the seams, scattered about the porch steps and her lap.
Ah. Yes. She could relate to them.
When: Sometime after all of this.
Where: Angeal and Genesis' place.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Fluff? Ish? Genesis' tantrums.
Summary: Genesis is still a little out of sorts and Angeal attempts to cheer him up.
Her head hurt. She had a headache at the forefront of her brain; it had developed shortly after that night and held strong for the last few days. It didn't help that she was still female (it irritated her, not because she minded it so much as she minded what people had to say about it), or that those fucking Turks had to open their mouths... That, on top of the fact that she was still feeling... off-kilter made for a rather unhappy Genesis.
Rabid animal.
She leaned back against the wall, seated on the steps outside of her and Angeal's home, and she stared blankly at the book in her hands. Not Loveless, unfortunately, just something random she'd come across and was taking little interest in.
Rabid animal...
Grey eyes narrowed, gripping the corner of a page to turn it.
Fucking ShinRa dogs.
And, oh, they thought they were so wonderful, didn't they? Dogs. Every last one of them. Leaving their SOLDIERS to suffer and wither away, dying piece by piece and hunting - hunting them as though they were some sort of dangerous animal. They knew nothing. Self-righteous, self-centered, fucking dogs.
Her gaze began to wander, lifting off the pages that her fingers were starting to tear at, focusing on nothing in particular in the distance. Not entirely seeing much of anything. Was this it, then? Even in this place, was she going to feel like this? As though sanity was something so precious and carefully handled, that something so simple as the words of a mutt could send her so precariously close to the edge and leave her feeling exhausted and drained with the effort of pulling herself back up.
Genesis tore another chunk of the pages off, pinched between thumb and forefinger, gathering in her palm, movements so absent that it took awhile before she noticed just what she was doing. Her gaze dropped and her hand opened, allowing the paper within to tumble out. Tiny words on tiny scraps that no longer made any sense once pulled apart at the seams, scattered about the porch steps and her lap.
Ah. Yes. She could relate to them.