Open!
Who: Zack Fair i_love_squats, OPEN
When: Today or tomorrow.
Where: Zack and Angeal’s home.
Format: Paragraph or action, whichever you want. Feel free to hop in an already established thread or start a new one for new guests who want to arrive at a different time. Either or. :D
What: For anyone who wants to come and visit Zack and make sure he doesn’t escape before he’s healed.
Warnings: Zack’s been bitten by the angst bug.
The bed was a prison that had long since given him cabin fever. Zack hated it, the stiff bedding, the same four walls, the one lone window that gave shoddy light; the only saving grace thus far had been Angeal and Elena, both here, both close. For them, he’d smile, pop a little cocky grin, say he didn’t hurt, not at all, even with the broken skin, the bruises, the underneath pain. For them, he’d fake it.
When they weren’t in the room, though, that was when he thought about that little girl, when he thought about how he had been just a few minutes too late. He hadn’t saved her, had failed her, failed them all, and it was bitter, painful. Guilt was a far crueler wound than anything the explosion could give him; it pumped its toxin of self-doubt and failure through his veins. Infected, septic, it festered and gnawed at him, that look on her face when the bullet slammed in never leaving; every time he closed his eyes, it was there.
Tapping his own damaged Forge, he shifted on his bed, sitting up straighter, looking longingly at the door. He could make it, totally make it, get out there before anyone knew he was gone. Sure, Angeal would be angry at him, but he’d make it up to him later. Him and Elena. Promise.
As he prepared himself for the slow break for it, the door opened and everything went on the back burner. For now. After all, It was hard to keep a good SOLDIER down.
When: Today or tomorrow.
Where: Zack and Angeal’s home.
Format: Paragraph or action, whichever you want. Feel free to hop in an already established thread or start a new one for new guests who want to arrive at a different time. Either or. :D
What: For anyone who wants to come and visit Zack and make sure he doesn’t escape before he’s healed.
Warnings: Zack’s been bitten by the angst bug.
The bed was a prison that had long since given him cabin fever. Zack hated it, the stiff bedding, the same four walls, the one lone window that gave shoddy light; the only saving grace thus far had been Angeal and Elena, both here, both close. For them, he’d smile, pop a little cocky grin, say he didn’t hurt, not at all, even with the broken skin, the bruises, the underneath pain. For them, he’d fake it.
When they weren’t in the room, though, that was when he thought about that little girl, when he thought about how he had been just a few minutes too late. He hadn’t saved her, had failed her, failed them all, and it was bitter, painful. Guilt was a far crueler wound than anything the explosion could give him; it pumped its toxin of self-doubt and failure through his veins. Infected, septic, it festered and gnawed at him, that look on her face when the bullet slammed in never leaving; every time he closed his eyes, it was there.
Tapping his own damaged Forge, he shifted on his bed, sitting up straighter, looking longingly at the door. He could make it, totally make it, get out there before anyone knew he was gone. Sure, Angeal would be angry at him, but he’d make it up to him later. Him and Elena. Promise.
As he prepared himself for the slow break for it, the door opened and everything went on the back burner. For now. After all, It was hard to keep a good SOLDIER down.