our fears manifest themselves in dreams.
((ooc: Cloud was freaked out by a nightmare and had to write it all down, sort of a purging move. What he dreamed is below. Aerith, Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud were transported to an island, where darker forces were kind of poking at them like science experiments. Cloud just didn't know it at the time.
WARNING: For gore, vivid and disturbing imagery and violence, strangeness. Also, the post is set locked to private.))
Cloud’s eyes flew open, the blond laying there, blinking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but whatever it was, it had started out jolting him with alert danger that faded instantly to a numb weirdness.
He stole a glance to both sides as he sat up, reassuring himself with the sight of curvy brown locks on one side and black spikes on the other. He noticed that Sephiroth had left at some point, the man conspicuously absent from the usual corner chair he slept in.
It had unnerved Cloud at first, having the one-winged angel holding sentinel with his back to the wall, eyes always watching. Cloud sill wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t about to lose it one time and slit all their throats while they slept. It was one of the reasons why Cloud always jolted awake at the slightest sounds, ready to take up arms and defend those he cared for. He wasn’t about to let Sephiroth be the cause, indirectly or no, to Zack or Aerith’s death again.
Being careful not to jostle either occupant of the bed he was laying in, Cloud shimmied down to the end, socked foot sliding into unzipped boots. It still wasn’t safe to traverse around without shoes on, no matter how much Aerith had cleaned and directed the others to clean the dilapidated house up. The holes in the living room and attic also admitted new debris to be swept up. Cloud didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was a never ending battle until he or Sephiroth got around to patching up the place.
…He guessed now was a good time as any to find materials to do just that.
The restroom door was open, though nothing but a pail of lukewarm water and a few brushes sat in there. Scooping one ungloved hand into the pail, Cloud started to wash the sleep grit from his eyes.
“Well, gee, Spike. I guess you *really* wanted to join me, huh?”
Cloud jumped, his wet face shooting up to look at the figure standing inside the shower. He blinked in confusion, turning around to look at the bed he’d just vacated. The owner of brown, curly locks slept on unaware.
Cloud looked back at the person who spoke and let out a soft laugh. “Zack. You scared me. Still a SOLDIER,” he said with amusement. He doubted there were many that could sneak up on him like that by this point, especially with him being on high alert. Well, high*er*. But Zack had always been the sneaky one when he wanted to be. It was just…
“What are you doing? The plumbing doesn’t work.”
“Really? It seems to work fine for me.” The brunet winked at Cloud, one hand wringing the knob to bring a fresh outpouring of water from the faucet. The water hitting his chest and sluicing down his legs steamed, attesting to the fact that hot water had decided to operate in their place. Cloud shook his head, grin widening as he wondered just when Zack had the chance or energy to fix the plumbing in the house. It was just something Zack would do, to induce surprise or wonder or just laughs at his tactics.
“I’m next then,” Cloud announced, the thought of an actual shower without lake life pecking on his toes more appealing than he wanted to admit.
Zack turned fully towards him, infectious grin widening. “You sure about that, Strife?”
“Yeah-” The affirmation trailed off as a pair of scissors appeared in Zack’s hand. Cloud felt surging panic, which strangely tapered off to slight concern as Zack raised the scissors towards the nape of his neck.
“Need a haircut. I guess it got too long when we were on the run. I haven’t had a chance to trim it yet.” The brunet started hacking away at any spikes extending past his shoulder. Cloud blinked again in confusion, remembering times when Zack had left the hair to grow as long as his waist, which hadn’t seemed to bother the man before.
“Zack?” Cloud asked curiously. “Zack?” Cloud asked again in mounting worry as Zack started to nick his neck. “Zack!” Cloud yelled, all thoughts of remaining quiet so Aerith could sleep vanishing as Zack cut the scissors into the side of his neck. His hand shot out, ready to knock the implement aside, but Zack was quicker, always quicker, and knocked his hand away. Cloud tried again, only to watch in horror as Zack started to cut *through* his neck, getting any spikey strands that got in the way.
“ZACK! STOP!” Zack kept cutting, cutting, cutting, the blond trying to ignore that he was seeing blood paint the shower tiles and insides and oh gods, this was a hundred times worse than seeing Zack bleeding on the ground with bullet holes in him. Infinitely worse, because Zack had done it to himself.
He was about to tackle the other, injury or no injury, when Zack made a sickening squelch, the scissors passing through the rest of his muscles and arteries and bone completely. Cloud gave a cry of deep loss as Zack’s body and severed head hit the bottom the porcelain with a thud, gasping, shuddering breaths passing through Cloud’s lips. Not…not…not again. He couldn’t. He. He barely survived the last time Zack had died, the event causing his mind to fracture and break. It wasn’t, he couldn’t.
Even worst was…
…Cloud cried out, the sound akin to a whimper as he watched Zack’s lips, still moving and trying to form words. Without air being pushed past his vocal chords, the only sound being made was the wet squish of blood. Zack’s eyes accused him of this, or being the catalyst, or being weak and letting him die.
He started screaming, the sound eerily similar to the one he’d let loose seven years ago. Except this time, it was worse, so much worse, and Cloud wasn’t sure whether he could take the thought that Zack had done it to himself, done it so that he could get away from…from what?
Two minutes. Two minutes was how long you could go without brain damage. Right? It was obvious that Zack’s brain was still alive (and Cloud would never, *ever* forget the horrifying sight), and if they could…SOLDIERs healed fast, didn’t they?
Eyes unable to move away from the mess that was Zack now, Cloud stumbled backwards out of the bathroom, kept shuffling out with panic until the back of his knees hit material and he fell back sitting onto the bed. His hand swept out, searching and reaching but touching nothing.
Aerith. Aerith could fix this, couldn’t she?
It was futile hope, Cloud knew, but he was desperate by that point. Aerith was a healer, not a necromancer. But they never had found an explanation as to why Zack had been given back to them, not whole but very much alive.
“Aerith,” Cloud croaked, turned finally from the gory mess on the other side of the opened door to seek out the woman. “Aerith!”
He immediately leapt up from the bed, eyes wide as he stared up at the unbelievable vision above him. He would never forget that blade, having known it intimately and surely as if it had trailed him all his life. The silver gleamed once, where it wasn’t stained brown and crimson with blood, Aerith’s blood, almost as if to mock him in his belief that this time, things would be different.
Cloud made a distressed sound low in his voice before anger surged to the forefront. “No!” he yelled, taking two ground eating steps to put him in front of Aerith, pinned three feet above the ground like a butterfly specimen, like something to be collected.
He grabbed the hilt of the blade, yanking, forgetting for that one second that Aerith wasn’t like them in that regard; she didn’t heal as quick as SOLDIERs, and she wasn’t in any condition to heal herself. “Aerith, just hold on, I’ll, I’ll get you down,” Cloud promised, unaware that tears had started to course down his face.
The First Tsurugi was lodged tight in Aerith, refusing to budge even as Cloud pulled with all his considerable strength. It wasn’t budging! He panicked more, breathing erratically now that it started to sink in. They were right there, *right there* and he hadn’t managed to save either of them. He couldn’t do it, as useless as ever, what did he think would change this time? Yelling once in denial, Cloud kicked the bed, sending it crashing into the wall.
“Don’t cry, Cloud.” A hand, soft and gentle, cupped the side of his face, instantly compelling him to hold still. Wide, horror-filled eyes latched onto the last cetra, still alive and still bleeding and still very much impaled to the wall.
“Aerith,” Cloud choked out, shaking his head slightly before new determination appeared in his eyes. Renewing his grip on the First Tsurugi, Cloud made to tug again to get Aerith loose.
Her next words stopped him. “It’s too late, Cloud. I only have a few moments left.”
“No! I can’t give up.” He tugged, only to pause as Aerith let out a pained cry. She hadn’t cried out when Sephiroth had run her through, taking her away from him, from them back then. He was hurting her…more?
“That’s right. You’ve always hurt me more,” a soft voice answered, a pitying look entering her eyes. “You hurt me when you rudely told me to go away. You hurt me on our date, treating me so coldly. And you hurt me for not saving me. The one thing I expected from you, for all that I’ve done. You didn’t save me. You let me die, just like you let Zack die. I’d rather be gone than have to deal with such failure. Just let me die.”
Cloud was frozen at the words, but scrunched his eyes and shook his head a second later, spikes flying every which way as he took the words into himself and buried them to be examined later. He needed to get Aerith down *now*. The guilt could come later.
“Just hold on, Aerith.” Cloud eyed the blade critically, trying to push the panic out of his mind. The First Tsurugi was in battle mode, something he’d failed to notice before. He could…collapse her, back into normal mode, shrinking the width of the blade enough to pull it out of Aerith. Only… “I’m so sorry, Aerith. This is going to hurt. But I’ll cast Cure on you immediately. I’m sorry.”
Grasping onto the hilt with both hands, Cloud was about to twist the hand to switch modes. He never got the chance.
The tip of Masamune slid smoothly through Aerith’s neck, the blade piercing through her spine and out the front. Aerith let out a gurgling breath, falling silent the next moment as a relieved smile curved her lips. Cloud could only stand there in shock, like a child not understanding why all his nightmares were visiting him at once. The blade withdrew, its owner reclaiming it now that it had done as he asked.
Anger welled to the forefront, a thin cover for the loss and despair trying to seep through. He was burying the grief, knowing that once he let it reign free, it would overwhelm him and strike him down. Losing two of the most important people in his life, this close to each other, Cloud wasn’t sure he could cope with that.
“Sephiroth!” Cloud screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes seeking out the rest of his blades. He was going to kill the man, this time, for good. None of his other swords were around, something Cloud couldn’t spare thought to understand at the moment. The only blade he had on hand…
“Aerith…” This time, whether to mock him or because his anger fueled it, the sword came loose, spilling ribbon and cloth and Aerith into the crook of Cloud’s arm. He placed her gently on the bed, pressing his forehead to hers briefly before shooting back, hefting the sword in his hand.
Blue gas-like light enveloped the blade, energy that he sent to ripping through the wall that Aerith had died on. Stepping through the hole his attack made, Cloud sought out the person he had secretly, deeply hoped would change, the person he’d tried to give a second chance to at the behest of Zack and Aerith. He was going to kill the man, annihilate him and destroy him, just as he destroyed the world Cloud knew.
…And then. He would deal with himself.
WARNING: For gore, vivid and disturbing imagery and violence, strangeness. Also, the post is set locked to private.))
Cloud’s eyes flew open, the blond laying there, blinking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but whatever it was, it had started out jolting him with alert danger that faded instantly to a numb weirdness.
He stole a glance to both sides as he sat up, reassuring himself with the sight of curvy brown locks on one side and black spikes on the other. He noticed that Sephiroth had left at some point, the man conspicuously absent from the usual corner chair he slept in.
It had unnerved Cloud at first, having the one-winged angel holding sentinel with his back to the wall, eyes always watching. Cloud sill wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t about to lose it one time and slit all their throats while they slept. It was one of the reasons why Cloud always jolted awake at the slightest sounds, ready to take up arms and defend those he cared for. He wasn’t about to let Sephiroth be the cause, indirectly or no, to Zack or Aerith’s death again.
Being careful not to jostle either occupant of the bed he was laying in, Cloud shimmied down to the end, socked foot sliding into unzipped boots. It still wasn’t safe to traverse around without shoes on, no matter how much Aerith had cleaned and directed the others to clean the dilapidated house up. The holes in the living room and attic also admitted new debris to be swept up. Cloud didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was a never ending battle until he or Sephiroth got around to patching up the place.
…He guessed now was a good time as any to find materials to do just that.
The restroom door was open, though nothing but a pail of lukewarm water and a few brushes sat in there. Scooping one ungloved hand into the pail, Cloud started to wash the sleep grit from his eyes.
“Well, gee, Spike. I guess you *really* wanted to join me, huh?”
Cloud jumped, his wet face shooting up to look at the figure standing inside the shower. He blinked in confusion, turning around to look at the bed he’d just vacated. The owner of brown, curly locks slept on unaware.
Cloud looked back at the person who spoke and let out a soft laugh. “Zack. You scared me. Still a SOLDIER,” he said with amusement. He doubted there were many that could sneak up on him like that by this point, especially with him being on high alert. Well, high*er*. But Zack had always been the sneaky one when he wanted to be. It was just…
“What are you doing? The plumbing doesn’t work.”
“Really? It seems to work fine for me.” The brunet winked at Cloud, one hand wringing the knob to bring a fresh outpouring of water from the faucet. The water hitting his chest and sluicing down his legs steamed, attesting to the fact that hot water had decided to operate in their place. Cloud shook his head, grin widening as he wondered just when Zack had the chance or energy to fix the plumbing in the house. It was just something Zack would do, to induce surprise or wonder or just laughs at his tactics.
“I’m next then,” Cloud announced, the thought of an actual shower without lake life pecking on his toes more appealing than he wanted to admit.
Zack turned fully towards him, infectious grin widening. “You sure about that, Strife?”
“Yeah-” The affirmation trailed off as a pair of scissors appeared in Zack’s hand. Cloud felt surging panic, which strangely tapered off to slight concern as Zack raised the scissors towards the nape of his neck.
“Need a haircut. I guess it got too long when we were on the run. I haven’t had a chance to trim it yet.” The brunet started hacking away at any spikes extending past his shoulder. Cloud blinked again in confusion, remembering times when Zack had left the hair to grow as long as his waist, which hadn’t seemed to bother the man before.
“Zack?” Cloud asked curiously. “Zack?” Cloud asked again in mounting worry as Zack started to nick his neck. “Zack!” Cloud yelled, all thoughts of remaining quiet so Aerith could sleep vanishing as Zack cut the scissors into the side of his neck. His hand shot out, ready to knock the implement aside, but Zack was quicker, always quicker, and knocked his hand away. Cloud tried again, only to watch in horror as Zack started to cut *through* his neck, getting any spikey strands that got in the way.
“ZACK! STOP!” Zack kept cutting, cutting, cutting, the blond trying to ignore that he was seeing blood paint the shower tiles and insides and oh gods, this was a hundred times worse than seeing Zack bleeding on the ground with bullet holes in him. Infinitely worse, because Zack had done it to himself.
He was about to tackle the other, injury or no injury, when Zack made a sickening squelch, the scissors passing through the rest of his muscles and arteries and bone completely. Cloud gave a cry of deep loss as Zack’s body and severed head hit the bottom the porcelain with a thud, gasping, shuddering breaths passing through Cloud’s lips. Not…not…not again. He couldn’t. He. He barely survived the last time Zack had died, the event causing his mind to fracture and break. It wasn’t, he couldn’t.
Even worst was…
…Cloud cried out, the sound akin to a whimper as he watched Zack’s lips, still moving and trying to form words. Without air being pushed past his vocal chords, the only sound being made was the wet squish of blood. Zack’s eyes accused him of this, or being the catalyst, or being weak and letting him die.
He started screaming, the sound eerily similar to the one he’d let loose seven years ago. Except this time, it was worse, so much worse, and Cloud wasn’t sure whether he could take the thought that Zack had done it to himself, done it so that he could get away from…from what?
Two minutes. Two minutes was how long you could go without brain damage. Right? It was obvious that Zack’s brain was still alive (and Cloud would never, *ever* forget the horrifying sight), and if they could…SOLDIERs healed fast, didn’t they?
Eyes unable to move away from the mess that was Zack now, Cloud stumbled backwards out of the bathroom, kept shuffling out with panic until the back of his knees hit material and he fell back sitting onto the bed. His hand swept out, searching and reaching but touching nothing.
Aerith. Aerith could fix this, couldn’t she?
It was futile hope, Cloud knew, but he was desperate by that point. Aerith was a healer, not a necromancer. But they never had found an explanation as to why Zack had been given back to them, not whole but very much alive.
“Aerith,” Cloud croaked, turned finally from the gory mess on the other side of the opened door to seek out the woman. “Aerith!”
He immediately leapt up from the bed, eyes wide as he stared up at the unbelievable vision above him. He would never forget that blade, having known it intimately and surely as if it had trailed him all his life. The silver gleamed once, where it wasn’t stained brown and crimson with blood, Aerith’s blood, almost as if to mock him in his belief that this time, things would be different.
Cloud made a distressed sound low in his voice before anger surged to the forefront. “No!” he yelled, taking two ground eating steps to put him in front of Aerith, pinned three feet above the ground like a butterfly specimen, like something to be collected.
He grabbed the hilt of the blade, yanking, forgetting for that one second that Aerith wasn’t like them in that regard; she didn’t heal as quick as SOLDIERs, and she wasn’t in any condition to heal herself. “Aerith, just hold on, I’ll, I’ll get you down,” Cloud promised, unaware that tears had started to course down his face.
The First Tsurugi was lodged tight in Aerith, refusing to budge even as Cloud pulled with all his considerable strength. It wasn’t budging! He panicked more, breathing erratically now that it started to sink in. They were right there, *right there* and he hadn’t managed to save either of them. He couldn’t do it, as useless as ever, what did he think would change this time? Yelling once in denial, Cloud kicked the bed, sending it crashing into the wall.
“Don’t cry, Cloud.” A hand, soft and gentle, cupped the side of his face, instantly compelling him to hold still. Wide, horror-filled eyes latched onto the last cetra, still alive and still bleeding and still very much impaled to the wall.
“Aerith,” Cloud choked out, shaking his head slightly before new determination appeared in his eyes. Renewing his grip on the First Tsurugi, Cloud made to tug again to get Aerith loose.
Her next words stopped him. “It’s too late, Cloud. I only have a few moments left.”
“No! I can’t give up.” He tugged, only to pause as Aerith let out a pained cry. She hadn’t cried out when Sephiroth had run her through, taking her away from him, from them back then. He was hurting her…more?
“That’s right. You’ve always hurt me more,” a soft voice answered, a pitying look entering her eyes. “You hurt me when you rudely told me to go away. You hurt me on our date, treating me so coldly. And you hurt me for not saving me. The one thing I expected from you, for all that I’ve done. You didn’t save me. You let me die, just like you let Zack die. I’d rather be gone than have to deal with such failure. Just let me die.”
Cloud was frozen at the words, but scrunched his eyes and shook his head a second later, spikes flying every which way as he took the words into himself and buried them to be examined later. He needed to get Aerith down *now*. The guilt could come later.
“Just hold on, Aerith.” Cloud eyed the blade critically, trying to push the panic out of his mind. The First Tsurugi was in battle mode, something he’d failed to notice before. He could…collapse her, back into normal mode, shrinking the width of the blade enough to pull it out of Aerith. Only… “I’m so sorry, Aerith. This is going to hurt. But I’ll cast Cure on you immediately. I’m sorry.”
Grasping onto the hilt with both hands, Cloud was about to twist the hand to switch modes. He never got the chance.
The tip of Masamune slid smoothly through Aerith’s neck, the blade piercing through her spine and out the front. Aerith let out a gurgling breath, falling silent the next moment as a relieved smile curved her lips. Cloud could only stand there in shock, like a child not understanding why all his nightmares were visiting him at once. The blade withdrew, its owner reclaiming it now that it had done as he asked.
Anger welled to the forefront, a thin cover for the loss and despair trying to seep through. He was burying the grief, knowing that once he let it reign free, it would overwhelm him and strike him down. Losing two of the most important people in his life, this close to each other, Cloud wasn’t sure he could cope with that.
“Sephiroth!” Cloud screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes seeking out the rest of his blades. He was going to kill the man, this time, for good. None of his other swords were around, something Cloud couldn’t spare thought to understand at the moment. The only blade he had on hand…
“Aerith…” This time, whether to mock him or because his anger fueled it, the sword came loose, spilling ribbon and cloth and Aerith into the crook of Cloud’s arm. He placed her gently on the bed, pressing his forehead to hers briefly before shooting back, hefting the sword in his hand.
Blue gas-like light enveloped the blade, energy that he sent to ripping through the wall that Aerith had died on. Stepping through the hole his attack made, Cloud sought out the person he had secretly, deeply hoped would change, the person he’d tried to give a second chance to at the behest of Zack and Aerith. He was going to kill the man, annihilate him and destroy him, just as he destroyed the world Cloud knew.
…And then. He would deal with himself.