/smacks self!!
I AM SO UNFOCUSED it's not funny. I can't even properly procrastinate, what is this madness? Stuff seems to be having difficulty downloading and installing, which is quite troublesome. I guess I'll just have to get everything else that can be done in the meantime.
I kind of get the feeling that perhaps the main reason I didn't enjoy Crisis Core as much as some of the other games I was playing around the time was because I played it in such a short span of time, so all the things that irritate me stand out more because I was playing in such prolonged stretches of time.
I've been trying to write some FF7 fanfic, with quite a bit of difficulty. Aside from that fact I can't really focus on writing, it's been so. long since I finished FF7 and my recollections of everyone are so hazy. It's very rare that I know how everything is supposed to go in a fanfic, but that's sort of what's happened here. Now, I just have to find the right words to unravel them with... though I worry that the characters may not be quite within their character, or that I accidentally exclude a character from the story (when they really should have a place in it) without meaning to, as I did with Dreamless.
When Cloud doesn’t return home like he said he would, Tifa starts the routine of punching in the numbers to his PHS, knowing he won’t pick up. She expects to hear the dialling tone before she’s directed to leave a voice mail. It’s a routine she’s long been used to, in the times where Cloud would stay away for weeks at a time. It’s a set of motions she hasn’t needed to perform in a long time, and she silently worries Cloud’s slipping back into his old ways.
But what Tifa doesn’t expect to hear is an automated voice telling her, “Sorry, the number you have dialled could not be connected.”
She’s still numbly staring at the phone in her hand when Denzel stumbles in, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Tifa,” he begins softly, a yawn threatening to swallow the rest of his words, “is Cloud gonna be home tonight?”
She doesn’t know. She tells herself that Cloud must have accidentally broken his PHS during his delivery; he can be surprisingly clumsy at times. She doesn’t want to think of the million other reasons she can’t connect.
Tifa turns and gives Denzel a small smile, putting the phone back in its receiver. “What are you doing up so late? Go back to bed.” When he gets that stubborn look in his face (the boy can be like Cloud, in some regards), she puts her hands on her hips and says sternly, “Go on.”
And she ushers him back to his room. She can see his meagre attempts to protest become squashed under his own sleepiness. After she’s tucked Denzel in bed, she takes her own advice and heads to her own for sleep, ready to compose in her head a lightly berating lecture for when Cloud returns.
Dawn comes.
Still no Cloud.
I kind of get the feeling that perhaps the main reason I didn't enjoy Crisis Core as much as some of the other games I was playing around the time was because I played it in such a short span of time, so all the things that irritate me stand out more because I was playing in such prolonged stretches of time.
I've been trying to write some FF7 fanfic, with quite a bit of difficulty. Aside from that fact I can't really focus on writing, it's been so. long since I finished FF7 and my recollections of everyone are so hazy. It's very rare that I know how everything is supposed to go in a fanfic, but that's sort of what's happened here. Now, I just have to find the right words to unravel them with... though I worry that the characters may not be quite within their character, or that I accidentally exclude a character from the story (when they really should have a place in it) without meaning to, as I did with Dreamless.
When Cloud doesn’t return home like he said he would, Tifa starts the routine of punching in the numbers to his PHS, knowing he won’t pick up. She expects to hear the dialling tone before she’s directed to leave a voice mail. It’s a routine she’s long been used to, in the times where Cloud would stay away for weeks at a time. It’s a set of motions she hasn’t needed to perform in a long time, and she silently worries Cloud’s slipping back into his old ways.
But what Tifa doesn’t expect to hear is an automated voice telling her, “Sorry, the number you have dialled could not be connected.”
She’s still numbly staring at the phone in her hand when Denzel stumbles in, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Tifa,” he begins softly, a yawn threatening to swallow the rest of his words, “is Cloud gonna be home tonight?”
She doesn’t know. She tells herself that Cloud must have accidentally broken his PHS during his delivery; he can be surprisingly clumsy at times. She doesn’t want to think of the million other reasons she can’t connect.
Tifa turns and gives Denzel a small smile, putting the phone back in its receiver. “What are you doing up so late? Go back to bed.” When he gets that stubborn look in his face (the boy can be like Cloud, in some regards), she puts her hands on her hips and says sternly, “Go on.”
And she ushers him back to his room. She can see his meagre attempts to protest become squashed under his own sleepiness. After she’s tucked Denzel in bed, she takes her own advice and heads to her own for sleep, ready to compose in her head a lightly berating lecture for when Cloud returns.
Dawn comes.
Still no Cloud.