[Closed]
Who: Zack i_love_squats, Angeal valdecet, and Yazoovelvet_zealot
When: Backdated to Sunday, during the children event.
Where: The hunting grounds
Format: Paragraph.
What: Yazoo has fooled little Zack into thinking he’s Sephiroth, and little Angeal comes to take some of the heat off his mini!friend.
Warnings: Gore.
Zack knew that Angeal was coming, had heard it through the Forge that “Sephiroth” carried, just as he had heard everyone who yelled at the SOLDIER as well. Naruto’s had gotten his attention the most, and every time the SOLDIER turned off his communicator, the boy felt more and more alone, more and more isolated. He knew he shouldn’t feel these things, shouldn’t feel anything close to it (Isn’t this what he had wanted? Hadn’t he always wanted to learn to be a hero?), but when he looked down at his blood-coated hands, he wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.
He had vomited after the slaughter, the cruel burning retching of his throat making his eyes water, stream harder than before. He had done it some distance from camp, said he needed the bathroom and when he was far enough away, had broken down, sobbing and puking. His hands shook. His legs couldn’t hold him. And still, his palms were red, red, red.
I thought-I thought…SOLDIER were the good guys--
When he had returned on legs that felt like twigs, “Sephiroth” was cutting up the kill, working the usable portions into strips. Entrails spilled out, parting the wistful mist around its natural heat, and Zack’s eyes rolled up like he was going to pass out.
He managed to puke instead.
“I… I’m not hungry anymore,” he murmured, feeling small and young and afraid. Afraid. Around a SOLDIER. It was unheard of, but true, so true.
When: Backdated to Sunday, during the children event.
Where: The hunting grounds
Format: Paragraph.
What: Yazoo has fooled little Zack into thinking he’s Sephiroth, and little Angeal comes to take some of the heat off his mini!friend.
Warnings: Gore.
Zack knew that Angeal was coming, had heard it through the Forge that “Sephiroth” carried, just as he had heard everyone who yelled at the SOLDIER as well. Naruto’s had gotten his attention the most, and every time the SOLDIER turned off his communicator, the boy felt more and more alone, more and more isolated. He knew he shouldn’t feel these things, shouldn’t feel anything close to it (Isn’t this what he had wanted? Hadn’t he always wanted to learn to be a hero?), but when he looked down at his blood-coated hands, he wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.
He had vomited after the slaughter, the cruel burning retching of his throat making his eyes water, stream harder than before. He had done it some distance from camp, said he needed the bathroom and when he was far enough away, had broken down, sobbing and puking. His hands shook. His legs couldn’t hold him. And still, his palms were red, red, red.
I thought-I thought…SOLDIER were the good guys--
When he had returned on legs that felt like twigs, “Sephiroth” was cutting up the kill, working the usable portions into strips. Entrails spilled out, parting the wistful mist around its natural heat, and Zack’s eyes rolled up like he was going to pass out.
He managed to puke instead.
“I… I’m not hungry anymore,” he murmured, feeling small and young and afraid. Afraid. Around a SOLDIER. It was unheard of, but true, so true.