.01 - Angeal
Characters: Angeal, open to all
Progress: Complete
Summary: Angeal Hewley finds himself back in Banora-- but it's no longer his home. Lots of head-scratching and uncertainty.
Location: Dali ('Banora')
Date: January 16, afternoon
Warnings: Nothing. Well. Gravity and shirtlessness but that's hardly a warning.
Thirst. That was the first sensation Angeal registered upon awakening, but couldn't be bothered to open his eyes. The second was the sound of running water, faint and soft, but it was most likely the wind. After all, he hadn't seen a stream here last night.
He'd overslept, apparently. The light of the sun was hot on his face, the back of his eyelids searing red; his mouth was dry, a thin trickle of sweat running down his neck and disappearing into his sweater vest, and Angeal didn't care very much at all, really. If he could have it his way, he would lie there forever, unnoticed, undisturbed, unwanted.
...No, not unwanted. He'd left the damned Shin-Ra, but he couldn't leave his past behind anymore than he could leave himself.
"Meet me in Banora," Genesis had said when they'd first went separate ways. "We have to discuss... some matters." Banora. And so he'd ended up here last night, finally, a mile into the village and too tired to do anything but sleep under the curved arch of a tree. He was still tired, but it was not the lethargy of limbs that overtook him now; rather, the weariness in his conscience that would not let him become the monster that he knew himself to be.
He was really thirsty.
Angeal's inner debate as to whether or not he ought to get up and find some water, or at least open his eyes, was abruptly ended as something hit him hard on the side of his head. A surprised noise escaped him and his eyes wrenched open as he rolled swiftly into a crouched, defensive position, one hand reaching for the hilt of his SOLDIER standard as the other felt about blindly for his Buster Sword, and he faced-
-a dumbapple, lying innocently a few feet away. Eying his attacker, Angeal relaxed his grip on the sword hilt and stood up straight, stretching the kinks out of his back and scowling as he tasted the dryness in his mouth. Water. Again his eyes flickered to the apple and although this was one luxury Angeal had been steadfastly denying himself since last night, he shrugged it off. Was it the prerogative of a criminal to punish himself? No, that would be the law.
Picking up the purple-skinned fruit, he absently shined it on his sweater before breaking into it with his teeth. Immediately, a rush of saliva followed as the tart sweetness spread across his tongue, and Angeal hummed unconsciously. It had been... entirely too long. Crunching on the Banora White, he knelt down to place his weapon alongside the Buster, his shoulder pads and belts, and the small, drawstringed knapsack that contained a few things, and observing the area around him. That's when he realized that what he'd thought was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees was not wind at all, but a bonafide stream, bubbling happily a hundred yards off or so, winding through the trees.
"But..." Angeal frowned, lightly striding towards it as if to affirm with his own hands that it really existed, bare feet delighting in the gentle touch of the grass beneath them. The brook was real, as one toe of said feet found out, and deliciously cool. Sparkling clean, too.
How strange. He could have sworn that last night, there'd only been trees for at least a mile around. Oh well. He wasn't questioning his good luck. Peeling the sweater vest off and throwing it behind him, Angeal cupped his large hands into the water and splashed his face, his neck, and his chest, before shaking the excess droplets away. Another handful went to his mouth, and still another cleaned the dust off of his arms.
Thus preoccupied, he hardly noticed the extra whirring added into the bird-twitering-and-bee-buzzing until an inquisitve "Kupo, in Dali? Another one?" made him turn around. That did not sound like a bird or a bee or even a dragonfly. It was a moogle, in fact, if the bobbing pom-pom dangling into his face was any indication. That and the big red nose.
"Excuse me?" he asked, a bit too bemused to say anything else as the moogle landed lightly and hopped up to him warily. "Did... you say 'another' one?"
"Yes, another one, kupo," the moogle informed him gloomily, one hand searching its bag. It looked very tired. Angeal sympathized. "Another person from the sky. " It sighed, drawing out a kind of device and a booklet and holding them to the bewildered Angeal. Wiping his dripping hands onto his pants, he took them carefully.
"What are these?" The moogle didn't seem to hear him, and was instead flinching pre-emptively against some sort of attack. Angeal looked behind himself quickly, expecting to see some sort of moogle-eating monster, but found only the water. He turned back, and settled for crossing his arms lightly, not moving. After a few seconds, the moogle lowered its arms slowly and gave him a disbelieving look before saying uncertainly,
"I... have to go now, kupo. More people to, um, find. Goodbye!" And it was off. How... even more strange.
Shaking his head thoughtfully, Angeal thumbed through the pamphlet, finding a map. A map that looked nothing like any other map he'd ever seen in his life, because there was Midgar, yes, but where on Gaia was he?
"Kupo, in Dali?" Angeal's eyes found the small dot labeled 'Dali' and then back to 'Midgar', before making up his mind and picking up his sweater, pocketing the communication device as he jogged over to his belongings.
He had a long way to go.
Progress: Complete
Summary: Angeal Hewley finds himself back in Banora-- but it's no longer his home. Lots of head-scratching and uncertainty.
Location: Dali ('Banora')
Date: January 16, afternoon
Warnings: Nothing. Well. Gravity and shirtlessness but that's hardly a warning.
Thirst. That was the first sensation Angeal registered upon awakening, but couldn't be bothered to open his eyes. The second was the sound of running water, faint and soft, but it was most likely the wind. After all, he hadn't seen a stream here last night.
He'd overslept, apparently. The light of the sun was hot on his face, the back of his eyelids searing red; his mouth was dry, a thin trickle of sweat running down his neck and disappearing into his sweater vest, and Angeal didn't care very much at all, really. If he could have it his way, he would lie there forever, unnoticed, undisturbed, unwanted.
...No, not unwanted. He'd left the damned Shin-Ra, but he couldn't leave his past behind anymore than he could leave himself.
"Meet me in Banora," Genesis had said when they'd first went separate ways. "We have to discuss... some matters." Banora. And so he'd ended up here last night, finally, a mile into the village and too tired to do anything but sleep under the curved arch of a tree. He was still tired, but it was not the lethargy of limbs that overtook him now; rather, the weariness in his conscience that would not let him become the monster that he knew himself to be.
He was really thirsty.
Angeal's inner debate as to whether or not he ought to get up and find some water, or at least open his eyes, was abruptly ended as something hit him hard on the side of his head. A surprised noise escaped him and his eyes wrenched open as he rolled swiftly into a crouched, defensive position, one hand reaching for the hilt of his SOLDIER standard as the other felt about blindly for his Buster Sword, and he faced-
-a dumbapple, lying innocently a few feet away. Eying his attacker, Angeal relaxed his grip on the sword hilt and stood up straight, stretching the kinks out of his back and scowling as he tasted the dryness in his mouth. Water. Again his eyes flickered to the apple and although this was one luxury Angeal had been steadfastly denying himself since last night, he shrugged it off. Was it the prerogative of a criminal to punish himself? No, that would be the law.
Picking up the purple-skinned fruit, he absently shined it on his sweater before breaking into it with his teeth. Immediately, a rush of saliva followed as the tart sweetness spread across his tongue, and Angeal hummed unconsciously. It had been... entirely too long. Crunching on the Banora White, he knelt down to place his weapon alongside the Buster, his shoulder pads and belts, and the small, drawstringed knapsack that contained a few things, and observing the area around him. That's when he realized that what he'd thought was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees was not wind at all, but a bonafide stream, bubbling happily a hundred yards off or so, winding through the trees.
"But..." Angeal frowned, lightly striding towards it as if to affirm with his own hands that it really existed, bare feet delighting in the gentle touch of the grass beneath them. The brook was real, as one toe of said feet found out, and deliciously cool. Sparkling clean, too.
How strange. He could have sworn that last night, there'd only been trees for at least a mile around. Oh well. He wasn't questioning his good luck. Peeling the sweater vest off and throwing it behind him, Angeal cupped his large hands into the water and splashed his face, his neck, and his chest, before shaking the excess droplets away. Another handful went to his mouth, and still another cleaned the dust off of his arms.
Thus preoccupied, he hardly noticed the extra whirring added into the bird-twitering-and-bee-buzzing until an inquisitve "Kupo, in Dali? Another one?" made him turn around. That did not sound like a bird or a bee or even a dragonfly. It was a moogle, in fact, if the bobbing pom-pom dangling into his face was any indication. That and the big red nose.
"Excuse me?" he asked, a bit too bemused to say anything else as the moogle landed lightly and hopped up to him warily. "Did... you say 'another' one?"
"Yes, another one, kupo," the moogle informed him gloomily, one hand searching its bag. It looked very tired. Angeal sympathized. "Another person from the sky. " It sighed, drawing out a kind of device and a booklet and holding them to the bewildered Angeal. Wiping his dripping hands onto his pants, he took them carefully.
"What are these?" The moogle didn't seem to hear him, and was instead flinching pre-emptively against some sort of attack. Angeal looked behind himself quickly, expecting to see some sort of moogle-eating monster, but found only the water. He turned back, and settled for crossing his arms lightly, not moving. After a few seconds, the moogle lowered its arms slowly and gave him a disbelieving look before saying uncertainly,
"I... have to go now, kupo. More people to, um, find. Goodbye!" And it was off. How... even more strange.
Shaking his head thoughtfully, Angeal thumbed through the pamphlet, finding a map. A map that looked nothing like any other map he'd ever seen in his life, because there was Midgar, yes, but where on Gaia was he?
"Kupo, in Dali?" Angeal's eyes found the small dot labeled 'Dali' and then back to 'Midgar', before making up his mind and picking up his sweater, pocketing the communication device as he jogged over to his belongings.
He had a long way to go.