[Closed]
Who: Zack Fair i_love_squats and Tseng fingersloophole
When: 3/13
Where: Prayer tree then… wherever it leads from there
Format: Paragraph.
What: Zack is mopey and Tseng...well, is Tseng.
Warnings: Copious amounts of booze and angst.
It’s not that Zack didn’t trust Tseng. It’s just that, well…Okay, so he didn’t trust him. But it wasn’t in that you’re going to kill me while I sleep way, or that going to eat my last cookie and lie about it way, but more of them dammit, you’re going to try to cheer me up when I’m not feeling it way.
Zack thought maybe that was the most sinister way of all.
Peculiarly silent, he followed Tseng along towards their destination, a little confused, a little lost, his feet working on the automatic steps of ingrained instinct: one had to go in front of the other continuously, latherrinserepeat. Talking to everyone had done wonders, but the second the Forge turned off he had fallen into the thought, into memories, just the quiet lapping of the waves against the dock to carry him back down the path of somberness. Angeal. Cloud. Angeal. Cloud.
He hated it. He hated feeling like he couldn’t shake this darkness. He hated the underlying fear that this was just him, falling apart, losing pieces of himself as he drifted along green waves. Or worse, he was next. Would he even get a chance to uphold his promise to Irene if it did happen, or would it be over in a blur, too quick to escape? Would Irene take care of Kunsel if he did? Should he make a Will, like Angeal did? Or would that just undermine the vow?
His boot scraped on the ground, and he almost tripped, lost his balance, then regained it before he could go sprawling. Smiling sheepishly (complete with a hand rubbing at the back of his head for good measure), he tried to give off that familiar, goofy, restless puppy air.
It failed, and awkwardly, he discarded it a second later.
“It’s around here, right? Somewhere close?”
When: 3/13
Where: Prayer tree then… wherever it leads from there
Format: Paragraph.
What: Zack is mopey and Tseng...well, is Tseng.
Warnings: Copious amounts of booze and angst.
It’s not that Zack didn’t trust Tseng. It’s just that, well…Okay, so he didn’t trust him. But it wasn’t in that you’re going to kill me while I sleep way, or that going to eat my last cookie and lie about it way, but more of them dammit, you’re going to try to cheer me up when I’m not feeling it way.
Zack thought maybe that was the most sinister way of all.
Peculiarly silent, he followed Tseng along towards their destination, a little confused, a little lost, his feet working on the automatic steps of ingrained instinct: one had to go in front of the other continuously, latherrinserepeat. Talking to everyone had done wonders, but the second the Forge turned off he had fallen into the thought, into memories, just the quiet lapping of the waves against the dock to carry him back down the path of somberness. Angeal. Cloud. Angeal. Cloud.
He hated it. He hated feeling like he couldn’t shake this darkness. He hated the underlying fear that this was just him, falling apart, losing pieces of himself as he drifted along green waves. Or worse, he was next. Would he even get a chance to uphold his promise to Irene if it did happen, or would it be over in a blur, too quick to escape? Would Irene take care of Kunsel if he did? Should he make a Will, like Angeal did? Or would that just undermine the vow?
His boot scraped on the ground, and he almost tripped, lost his balance, then regained it before he could go sprawling. Smiling sheepishly (complete with a hand rubbing at the back of his head for good measure), he tried to give off that familiar, goofy, restless puppy air.
It failed, and awkwardly, he discarded it a second later.
“It’s around here, right? Somewhere close?”