Comments | iunctus_epitaph: (без темы)

behight in iunctus_epitaph

(Untitled)

Jan 30, 2008 00:13

Who: Tifa, Vincent.
Status: Closed.
When: 7:30 to 8:00 PM.
Where: border of Sector 4, near the edge of the city.
What: After his fight with Sephiroth, Vincent's lucky enough to have Tifa stumble upon him.

( Who died in the systematic process that we call life? )

vincent, tifa, night 4

Comments 3

repentingsinner January 30 2008, 19:49:45 UTC

He had forced himself to move, from where he had hung so limply from the piping he had been impaled upon, away from the eyes that screamed and gaped, as soon as he could no longer see the flicker of silver hair in his vision. Had pushed himself off, slid and collapsed to the ground, rose like some striken undead and limped his way further out of the city. He hadn't been followed, and the mantra of join her had only carried him so far, to the place where all the tall buildings flattened out into dirt and soil and grass. But he couldn't have gone any further. The gaping wound in his torso, the feeling of Chaos's wings still being torn (tearing through his mind as they were not physically present, but may as well have been), his broken jaw, the exhaustion that had set into his bones, the cold feeling surrounding his body - everything pulled him down until he finally collapsed ( ... )

behight February 3 2008, 23:03:21 UTC

Broken was the first thing she managed to think when he looked up to her, when red eyes flicked from their downcast position up to the worried lines and creases of her face. There had been a few agonizing moments where she was sure, almost positive, that he wasn't alive, that he was no longer breathing, so when he was shifting around on the ground beneath him, her shoulders dropped in a heavy release of air she hadn't realized she was holding. Still, he didn't look like the person he should have looked like -- didn't look like the man she was so used to seeing, so used to knowing, and maybe not really understanding, but that didn't entirely matter. Not really. Not as much as everything else mattered. He was hurt and teetering on the edge of completion and the crumbled pieces of destruction. That mattered ( ... )

repentingsinner February 3 2008, 23:25:04 UTC

If he was any lesser of a man, with even more energy or callous notion, he would have laughed at the situation. Here he was, half dead, many times over had he been anything remotely resembling a normal human, and there she was, catching herself from outright asking if he was all right. Funny, in a morbid sense, but he didn't blame her. At the moment, no, he was not really, very okay ( ... )