(no subject)
Characters: Denzel, Tifa, Cloud, Shelke and Eiko
Progress: Complete
Summary: Making his way to Treno
Location: Between Midgar and Treno
Date: January 1804
Warnings: None; other than a little pain
Denzel stared down at his Skyphone for a long time after his switched it off. Treno? He knew what direction to go in, which was a good start; but he wasn’t sure how long the journey would take or what he would meet along the way. He crouched down, emptying out the contents of his pockets - a piece of string, a few marbles, 3 gil, half a chocolate bar and a bottle top. All the things an eight-year-old boy needed for an adventure, except, of course, for a weapon.
He stuffed his belongings back into his pocket, as well as a handful of pebbles. He then pushed himself to his feet and exited the remains of the church, looking around in the moss and rubble for anything of use. Eventually, he curled his hand around a long, rusted, metal rod, freeing it from the debris. It wasn’t much, but it would work.
Weapon in hand, he gave the fallen Midgar ruins one last solemn glance before heading out. “Right… Treno…” He let out a sigh, looking up at the darkened sky. “I’ll see you soon… Cloud.” He began to jog along the plains towards the ominously dark city in the distance. It was darker and more miserable looking than his own Midgar. Where was the sun? Maybe it was night already?
He stayed in the shadow of the surrounding mountains as much as he was able to, not wanting to run into any unknown fiends. However, his luck soon ran out when he stumbled - quite literally - upon a Mandragora. A surprised gasp escaped him and his grip of that metal rod tightened as he struck the oversized vegetable with teeth over the head. He pushed himself to his feet and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.
He ran, and ran, not pausing until he was inside the gates of Treno. Once safe, he slid down the wall, chest heaving as he panted hard, trying to catching his breath. As he began to calm down he was gripped by a sudden pain from both his head and his arm, causing him to double over, whimpering through gritted teeth. Blackness dripped from his wounds, damping the cobble stones beneath him. He had never had an attack of his stigma this bad.
Progress: Complete
Summary: Making his way to Treno
Location: Between Midgar and Treno
Date: January 1804
Warnings: None; other than a little pain
Denzel stared down at his Skyphone for a long time after his switched it off. Treno? He knew what direction to go in, which was a good start; but he wasn’t sure how long the journey would take or what he would meet along the way. He crouched down, emptying out the contents of his pockets - a piece of string, a few marbles, 3 gil, half a chocolate bar and a bottle top. All the things an eight-year-old boy needed for an adventure, except, of course, for a weapon.
He stuffed his belongings back into his pocket, as well as a handful of pebbles. He then pushed himself to his feet and exited the remains of the church, looking around in the moss and rubble for anything of use. Eventually, he curled his hand around a long, rusted, metal rod, freeing it from the debris. It wasn’t much, but it would work.
Weapon in hand, he gave the fallen Midgar ruins one last solemn glance before heading out. “Right… Treno…” He let out a sigh, looking up at the darkened sky. “I’ll see you soon… Cloud.” He began to jog along the plains towards the ominously dark city in the distance. It was darker and more miserable looking than his own Midgar. Where was the sun? Maybe it was night already?
He stayed in the shadow of the surrounding mountains as much as he was able to, not wanting to run into any unknown fiends. However, his luck soon ran out when he stumbled - quite literally - upon a Mandragora. A surprised gasp escaped him and his grip of that metal rod tightened as he struck the oversized vegetable with teeth over the head. He pushed himself to his feet and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.
He ran, and ran, not pausing until he was inside the gates of Treno. Once safe, he slid down the wall, chest heaving as he panted hard, trying to catching his breath. As he began to calm down he was gripped by a sudden pain from both his head and his arm, causing him to double over, whimpering through gritted teeth. Blackness dripped from his wounds, damping the cobble stones beneath him. He had never had an attack of his stigma this bad.