FIC --- "Piano", FF7 [G]
What's this? Actual writing? FESTATIONS! Maybe someday I'll write something that *isn't* a scene piece about Vincent being an angst-muffin. XD
Title: Piano
Rating: G
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Spoilers: Only if you have no burger-flippin' idea what Vincent's story is.
Summary: In Vincent's return to the Shinra Mansion, a place he's inexplicably tied to, he finds an important memory buried in the dust.
It seemed he couldn’t stay away from this place. For better or for worse, his life was tied to this miserable, abandoned mansion. He sighed softly, his breath moistening the red fabric of the high collar of his cloak as his search yet again yielded nothing. The door closed soundly behind him, dust pluming around his tall form. Any other man would have coughed and winced, but he remained quiet and resolute; he wanted to get out of his building as fast as possible.
And yet, a part of him desperately wished to find a fond memory to associate with these tragedy-laden walls. The solid clunk of his tipped boots and soft rustle of his cloak’s tattered edges against the cracked floorboards were all that was heard as he walked up the broken steps to the second floor, interrupted only by the occasional clink of the charm affixed to the handle of his customized rifle.
Left or right … neither direction was more preferable to the other, yet he found himself wandering to the left first. It took two tries to turn the rusted doorknob of the first room’s door, and on the second try, he grunted and pushed his weight into the turn. Quite suddenly, the door gave and he partially stumbled in. As he looked up, his body froze and his eyes widened.
The piano.
He was amazed it was still here, virtually the same as the last he saw it save for the un-godly amount of dust it had collected in the last thirty years. Very slowly, almost reverently, he walked over to the old piano, effortlessly pulling the white sheet off and letting it drop to the floor as he touched the piano’s surface with his right hand. Without thinking he sat down on the seat, carefully lifting the sliding lid that covered the keys, a thin smile coming to his lips as he recalled a cherished memory.
“Play me a song?”
He looked puzzled. “I’m only here to protect you from those that oppose your research, Dr. Crescent, not play the piano.”
She giggled, a warm smile creasing her soft pink lips. “Music helps me concentrate. And now that you’ve admitted that you know how to play, play me a song, Vincent.”
“Ah -- hmm. I suppose you’ve got me there,” he admitted, a small but genuine smile gracing his usually expressionless face. “I don’t do requests however so you’re stuck with whatever I decide to play.”
She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, her smile still warm. “As you say!”
With a soft sigh, he stared at the keys as if attempting to draw inspiration from their presence. Eventually his fingers settled on the keys and he began to play a beautiful but haunting melody that he recalled hearing sometime before. She stood beside the piano’s right side, hand lightly on the edge of it as she listened, the smile never once leaving her lips.
When he finished, she walked to his side and placed a kiss to his forehead. As he looked up at her surprised, she laughed again, but kindly so. “My thanks for indulging me, Vincent. That was beautiful.”
“Ah…you’re welcome, Dr. Crescent.”
“Please, call me Lucrecia.”
Surprised, he went to protest, but at her insistence, he couldn’t help but smile. “Very well, Lucrecia.”
Lightly his fingers, both normal and clawed, touched the off-coloured keys as if straddling the line between playing and losing his nerve at memory’s doorstep. He closed his eyes as a soft sigh left his lips, thinking back to that day he played for her: her smile was so warm and kind, like the sun on a quiet summer’s day.
“Play a song for me?”
“Of course,” he murmured softly. Slowly his fingers obliged, the same melody he played for her all those years ago starting to form. Soon it was as smooth and haunting as it was then, as if he had never stopped playing, the rich sound filling the distorted walls of the mansion. At the song’s end, his fingers slowly slid off of the keys, as he softly exhaled as a heavy weight removed itself from his shoulders.
“You’re full of surprises.”
Jerked out of one of the very few pleasant reveries he’d ever had, Vincent was very quick to draw Cerberus, pointing it at the intruder. “--Cloud.”
Cloud pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and came over, a thin smile on his lips. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“…If Reeve has another ‘request’ for me to do, tell him no.” Vincent shook his head, carefully pulling the cover back over the keys.
“Heh, no … this has nothing to do with business,” Cloud said, sitting down beside him on the seat. “I wanted to talk to you. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to track you down, though.”
Vincent was somewhat pleased to hear that; it was good to know that he hadn’t lost his touch. “Is that so…”
Cloud looked at him seriously, his unnaturally bright blue eyes holding Vincent’s crimson ones in a tight gaze. “The others can’t help me with this… this is between you and me.”
Vincent’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. “…go ahead, Cloud.”
“We need to go to Edge.”
“Edge?”
“Yes. There aren’t any phone stores in Nibelheim, after all.”
Vincent blinked slowly before levelling Cloud with a highly unimpressed look as he realized what the blond man was getting at. “… This is regarding what transpired at the Forbidden City?”
Cloud smirked slightly, confirming it. “You bet. But you’re getting one too. It’s a pain in the ass trying to get a hold of you through anything resembling normal means.”
Vincent sighed heavily but stood. “Very well.”
As the two men started to leave the mansion, Cloud glanced at Vincent. “The others will be interested to hear how you learned to play the piano.”
“Not if something were to happen to you on the way to Edge,” Vincent replied flatly, walking ahead of Cloud, his cloak being rustled by the strong wind.
Cloud had to pause in his response to try and ascertain whether or not Vincent was joking, and even when he decided that the older man was, he wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. It was hard to tell with him…
-END-
Title: Piano
Rating: G
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Spoilers: Only if you have no burger-flippin' idea what Vincent's story is.
Summary: In Vincent's return to the Shinra Mansion, a place he's inexplicably tied to, he finds an important memory buried in the dust.
It seemed he couldn’t stay away from this place. For better or for worse, his life was tied to this miserable, abandoned mansion. He sighed softly, his breath moistening the red fabric of the high collar of his cloak as his search yet again yielded nothing. The door closed soundly behind him, dust pluming around his tall form. Any other man would have coughed and winced, but he remained quiet and resolute; he wanted to get out of his building as fast as possible.
And yet, a part of him desperately wished to find a fond memory to associate with these tragedy-laden walls. The solid clunk of his tipped boots and soft rustle of his cloak’s tattered edges against the cracked floorboards were all that was heard as he walked up the broken steps to the second floor, interrupted only by the occasional clink of the charm affixed to the handle of his customized rifle.
Left or right … neither direction was more preferable to the other, yet he found himself wandering to the left first. It took two tries to turn the rusted doorknob of the first room’s door, and on the second try, he grunted and pushed his weight into the turn. Quite suddenly, the door gave and he partially stumbled in. As he looked up, his body froze and his eyes widened.
The piano.
He was amazed it was still here, virtually the same as the last he saw it save for the un-godly amount of dust it had collected in the last thirty years. Very slowly, almost reverently, he walked over to the old piano, effortlessly pulling the white sheet off and letting it drop to the floor as he touched the piano’s surface with his right hand. Without thinking he sat down on the seat, carefully lifting the sliding lid that covered the keys, a thin smile coming to his lips as he recalled a cherished memory.
“Play me a song?”
He looked puzzled. “I’m only here to protect you from those that oppose your research, Dr. Crescent, not play the piano.”
She giggled, a warm smile creasing her soft pink lips. “Music helps me concentrate. And now that you’ve admitted that you know how to play, play me a song, Vincent.”
“Ah -- hmm. I suppose you’ve got me there,” he admitted, a small but genuine smile gracing his usually expressionless face. “I don’t do requests however so you’re stuck with whatever I decide to play.”
She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, her smile still warm. “As you say!”
With a soft sigh, he stared at the keys as if attempting to draw inspiration from their presence. Eventually his fingers settled on the keys and he began to play a beautiful but haunting melody that he recalled hearing sometime before. She stood beside the piano’s right side, hand lightly on the edge of it as she listened, the smile never once leaving her lips.
When he finished, she walked to his side and placed a kiss to his forehead. As he looked up at her surprised, she laughed again, but kindly so. “My thanks for indulging me, Vincent. That was beautiful.”
“Ah…you’re welcome, Dr. Crescent.”
“Please, call me Lucrecia.”
Surprised, he went to protest, but at her insistence, he couldn’t help but smile. “Very well, Lucrecia.”
Lightly his fingers, both normal and clawed, touched the off-coloured keys as if straddling the line between playing and losing his nerve at memory’s doorstep. He closed his eyes as a soft sigh left his lips, thinking back to that day he played for her: her smile was so warm and kind, like the sun on a quiet summer’s day.
“Play a song for me?”
“Of course,” he murmured softly. Slowly his fingers obliged, the same melody he played for her all those years ago starting to form. Soon it was as smooth and haunting as it was then, as if he had never stopped playing, the rich sound filling the distorted walls of the mansion. At the song’s end, his fingers slowly slid off of the keys, as he softly exhaled as a heavy weight removed itself from his shoulders.
“You’re full of surprises.”
Jerked out of one of the very few pleasant reveries he’d ever had, Vincent was very quick to draw Cerberus, pointing it at the intruder. “--Cloud.”
Cloud pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and came over, a thin smile on his lips. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“…If Reeve has another ‘request’ for me to do, tell him no.” Vincent shook his head, carefully pulling the cover back over the keys.
“Heh, no … this has nothing to do with business,” Cloud said, sitting down beside him on the seat. “I wanted to talk to you. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to track you down, though.”
Vincent was somewhat pleased to hear that; it was good to know that he hadn’t lost his touch. “Is that so…”
Cloud looked at him seriously, his unnaturally bright blue eyes holding Vincent’s crimson ones in a tight gaze. “The others can’t help me with this… this is between you and me.”
Vincent’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. “…go ahead, Cloud.”
“We need to go to Edge.”
“Edge?”
“Yes. There aren’t any phone stores in Nibelheim, after all.”
Vincent blinked slowly before levelling Cloud with a highly unimpressed look as he realized what the blond man was getting at. “… This is regarding what transpired at the Forbidden City?”
Cloud smirked slightly, confirming it. “You bet. But you’re getting one too. It’s a pain in the ass trying to get a hold of you through anything resembling normal means.”
Vincent sighed heavily but stood. “Very well.”
As the two men started to leave the mansion, Cloud glanced at Vincent. “The others will be interested to hear how you learned to play the piano.”
“Not if something were to happen to you on the way to Edge,” Vincent replied flatly, walking ahead of Cloud, his cloak being rustled by the strong wind.
Cloud had to pause in his response to try and ascertain whether or not Vincent was joking, and even when he decided that the older man was, he wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. It was hard to tell with him…
-END-