[ 009 - Audio/Videostream ]
M-Mother? Where are you?
[ A sharp intake of breath interrupts the background noise, followed by the scraping sounds of gloved fingers on pavement, clawing and clenching into tight fists... before they strike. Again and again and again... and again. A hiss of pain from in between clenched teeth succeeds the drumming of fists on the ground, and then-nothing.
Silence but for the wind of the crisp, late afternoon howling through barren tree limbs and needled branches.
Then, a moment later, there is an unhurried shuffling noise. Another moment later the screen comes to life in unsteady hands, the tall arching structure of the Door looming overhead and, as the device is swung around, Yazoo's face, a picture perfect calm plastered onto it... if you ignore those sinuously bright and livid green eyes. ]
...Where is She? What have you done with Mother?
[ He is no longer in possession of the box, no longer in possession of Jenova. Clearly this does not sit well with the Remnant, but he doesn't raise his voice; the pitch remains steady, yet demanding. ]
If I absolutely must... I'll tear this city apart to get to Her... you know I will.
[ As he leans closer to the camera, the look in his eyes doesn't soften; instead, it appears less human, the narrow black slits becoming much finer, and the shadows within the whites a little heavier. ]
You will return Her to me-or else.
[ Twisting black tendrils of mist rise up at his sides, and from somewhere deep in the center of that dark cloud shapes begin to form; the monstrous figures of Shadow Creepers, with gaping wide, slathering maws, and guttural growls rumbling from their bellies. Yazoo reaches out a free hand to rest atop one's head in order to help himself rise, legs still... unsteady at best. ]
The clock is ticking, Anatole. And I'm... not very patient.
[ End transmission. ]
[ A sharp intake of breath interrupts the background noise, followed by the scraping sounds of gloved fingers on pavement, clawing and clenching into tight fists... before they strike. Again and again and again... and again. A hiss of pain from in between clenched teeth succeeds the drumming of fists on the ground, and then-nothing.
Silence but for the wind of the crisp, late afternoon howling through barren tree limbs and needled branches.
Then, a moment later, there is an unhurried shuffling noise. Another moment later the screen comes to life in unsteady hands, the tall arching structure of the Door looming overhead and, as the device is swung around, Yazoo's face, a picture perfect calm plastered onto it... if you ignore those sinuously bright and livid green eyes. ]
...Where is She? What have you done with Mother?
[ He is no longer in possession of the box, no longer in possession of Jenova. Clearly this does not sit well with the Remnant, but he doesn't raise his voice; the pitch remains steady, yet demanding. ]
If I absolutely must... I'll tear this city apart to get to Her... you know I will.
[ As he leans closer to the camera, the look in his eyes doesn't soften; instead, it appears less human, the narrow black slits becoming much finer, and the shadows within the whites a little heavier. ]
You will return Her to me-or else.
[ Twisting black tendrils of mist rise up at his sides, and from somewhere deep in the center of that dark cloud shapes begin to form; the monstrous figures of Shadow Creepers, with gaping wide, slathering maws, and guttural growls rumbling from their bellies. Yazoo reaches out a free hand to rest atop one's head in order to help himself rise, legs still... unsteady at best. ]
The clock is ticking, Anatole. And I'm... not very patient.
[ End transmission. ]