[She flies, with those same great, black wings he's seen before. She shows no surprise at being in space or being able to breathe here; she was born here. Sailor senshi are born from stars and planets. Such a grandiose setting suits her, and this is the air of home. She is not awed by it, though she lets herself watch it before she finally turns away.
Mercury doesn't take too long to watch the starscape with that distant, impassively quiet expression before she turns to go towards the man, who she recognizes. She lands gracefully a short distance away. The feathery wings wrap around her as though to keep her warm in the cold of space; but the cold is equally something that doesn't trouble her. She greets Zack blandly.]
I didn't think a human would also make it this far. [Without a ship or spacesuit, at any rate.]
[She's not used to that sort of smile, and it says something that her first thought is to wonder what he's up to. People aren't glad to see her. She gets down to business instead.]
It's easy to tell just by looking that we're in space. So, just where is it?
[The voice comes, more from inside her own head rather than his own, physical being. It's soft, and still weakened slightly, not sounding very much human at all.]
We're in a place nobody can get to. Not unless they're under... special circumstances.
[This much, he doesn't need to explain. A hand gently comes out, to wrap around her wrist.
Tseng's stood on the edge of this abyss a few times, nearly stepped over the edge on three occasions. It's a heady sensation, but he's always had a reason to turn back around or simply been dragged. There's a different quality to this time though, like it's not his perspective on things he's seeing.
He recognizes Zack in an instant, regrets that had lost some of their bite clawing at him again. He'd tried to get there in time, to save instead of destroy for once and failed. He doesn't know what to say, or how to even begin so he simply stands there waiting and watching the brilliant sky around them.
His back is facing the Turk - the very same Turk he'd ask to watch over Aerith those years ago as he, Sephiroth, and Cloud headed to Nibelheim. It was the mission that would change their lives forever, and ended two of them that night. And he's still in that meditative stance, a lack of a Buster Sword making it difficult, but manageable.
The voice booms in the man's head, nonetheless.
........
...how's Aerith?
He doesn't even need to turn around to know who it is.
"She waited for you." Came the non-answer, "At least, for a while."
He still had those letters for Zack, sitting in a locked drawer of a desk. He'd never read them and never would either. Their contents weren't meant for him. He'd had a plan, once upon a time, a sideways manouver that had never come to pass because Zack had been just that good at hiding.
The former SOLDIER is quiet, only shifting a little in his near-transparent position to give the man at least some acknowledgement. But then he eventually nods, taking in the information. Aerith had waited for him... then she stopped. She stopped when she realized he was never coming home, and maybe it was better this way.
She'd be safe. He trusted Cloud.
You believed Cissnei a little too easily back there.
Finally, he turns to glance over his shoulder - dead eyes staring back at the man, still alive, though laced more with curiousity than anything else.
Care to explain? I thought your duty was with ShinRa, first.
At first, Cloud thinks he's back in Bugenhagen's observatory. It's the same forever of stars with the planets drifting through the eternal night, no up or down to trust except where his feet are standing to prove otherwise. He sees the asteroids and there's a single sliver of cold down his spine, remembering another not so long ago and the way it had filled the entire sky. But no, that's past. He's here. And as he looks around, trying to orient himself in the spinning world that's threatening to make him motion sick if he pays too much attention he sees:
For you, the landscaping is even more unsteady than usual. Your footing will cause even the sturdiest boulders to crumble, the sky blacker than it ever should be. It's a cold, haunting land of desolation, and it just continues to give way the deeper you move inward.
Nearly impossible to navigate, you would eventually find yourself in a new area anyway - a cliff, overlooking the outskirts of the still-bustling city of Midgar (with one sector graciously leveled, mind you). The wind is unforgiving, the faint outline of a man standing on its peak.
A familiar man, though the timelines are that skewed. He doesn't realize this yet.
It's a struggle to get anywhere and Cloud's cheeks and the fingers of his gloves are streaked with dirt, a fine dusting of the powdered earth that falls apart under him in his hair too. But he doesn't slow down and he doesn't stop, chin tucked, unnatural blue eyes narrowed as he slowly, steadily makes his way forward no matter how many times the ground gives way or shifts under him. Zack's ahead. He's dragged his mako fevered body across rocks and dead bodies before to reach his friend. This - this is nothing and there's a streak of a younger him in the set of his jaw and the stubborn slant of his pale eyebrows.
He doesn't notice Midgar beyond. Not yet. All he sees is that peak where so much of his world ended and the man at it's summit and he remembers, heart tightening and tearing and thumping too loud in his chest, in his ears. Zack.
Determined he may be but he still finds himself hesitating before that last climb and his voice comes out as dusty as the earth falling apart around him.
He doesn't move, doesn't breathe from his perch upon the wastelands. The now-paled, now-bloodied SOLDIER simply stares out into the distance, head turned from Cloud and black hair lightly flowing in the wind. The most amount of life you'll get, mister ex-SOLDIER sir.
Why should he respond? What has Cloud done for him? He didn't even exist for a long while and that shouldn't earn the other's respect. Zack Fair's legacy was just as ruined at the sword in the ground, the sunflowers molded and wilted in the dirt. Blood drips steadily down to the rotted plants, landing upon them but disappearing almost immediately. It's a slow trickle at first, but then the crimson begins gushing out.
[Dreams. Games played by the subconscious, doors that open to endless worlds outside human reach. His whole existence could very well be considered one of a dream. Existing as long as he thinks, vanishing the moment he stops only to reappear again if he ever starts once more. A being outside worlds, above and below them, a dream and a nightmare, that's all he is.
He had thought that he had lost the ability to dream when he was born. Apparently he's wrong, or he has discovered a power to visit dreams from others. It doesn't make a real difference, he's used to observe things and to immerse himself in them occasionally. Primo stands, observing the stars lazily, they look so much like world fragments that he's almost tempted to try to reach for one. It always feels strange to observe the stars, something humans do quite often, something he himself did before as one.]
[If he happens to look down, the rubble moves. It crumbles and groans, shifting into a pathway that then leads to some sort of portal in the middle of this aether. The blurry sight of a dark city can be seen, the sky forever obscured by black and green-tinged clouds.
[The heart of a world. He has never looked deep enough into a world to reach it. Primo turns his attention to the pathway, feeling the light ping of curiosity inside of him.]
I don't believe in luck. Even if I did, we both don't get along.
[The world will urge him forward, seeing the destruction ShinRa will cause to his own world. To show him what greed will do, how lingering sadness can be... it's his memory, combined with others in this realm who had experienced the same, playing in the air like an old, distorted film.]
No. I won't say anyone's lucky.
In fact, we're all screwed in the end.
[Underneath his feet, this newcomer will find bright, yellow lilacs sprouting through the grimy, cragged surface.]
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Mercury doesn't take too long to watch the starscape with that distant, impassively quiet expression before she turns to go towards the man, who she recognizes. She lands gracefully a short distance away. The feathery wings wrap around her as though to keep her warm in the cold of space; but the cold is equally something that doesn't trouble her. She greets Zack blandly.]
I didn't think a human would also make it this far. [Without a ship or spacesuit, at any rate.]
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He's Asleep here, in this world. This is his own personal Promised Land. He just hasn't built on it yet.
His eyes open.
The glow eminating from his irises is all but gone now, replaced with a dull glaze of death. He can see, he knows where he is...
He knows Mercury, the woman he'd encountered when he was yet alive.
And he smiles fondly.]
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It's easy to tell just by looking that we're in space. So, just where is it?
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[The voice comes, more from inside her own head rather than his own, physical being. It's soft, and still weakened slightly, not sounding very much human at all.]
We're in a place nobody can get to. Not unless they're under... special circumstances.
[This much, he doesn't need to explain. A hand gently comes out, to wrap around her wrist.
Zack Fair has no pulse.]
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He recognizes Zack in an instant, regrets that had lost some of their bite clawing at him again. He'd tried to get there in time, to save instead of destroy for once and failed. He doesn't know what to say, or how to even begin so he simply stands there waiting and watching the brilliant sky around them.
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The voice booms in the man's head, nonetheless.
........
...how's Aerith?
He doesn't even need to turn around to know who it is.
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He still had those letters for Zack, sitting in a locked drawer of a desk. He'd never read them and never would either. Their contents weren't meant for him. He'd had a plan, once upon a time, a sideways manouver that had never come to pass because Zack had been just that good at hiding.
"I'm sorry."
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She'd be safe. He trusted Cloud.
You believed Cissnei a little too easily back there.
Finally, he turns to glance over his shoulder - dead eyes staring back at the man, still alive, though laced more with curiousity than anything else.
Care to explain? I thought your duty was with ShinRa, first.
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"Zack!"
(ooc. as if I could resist an opening like that)
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For you, the landscaping is even more unsteady than usual. Your footing will cause even the sturdiest boulders to crumble, the sky blacker than it ever should be. It's a cold, haunting land of desolation, and it just continues to give way the deeper you move inward.
Nearly impossible to navigate, you would eventually find yourself in a new area anyway - a cliff, overlooking the outskirts of the still-bustling city of Midgar (with one sector graciously leveled, mind you). The wind is unforgiving, the faint outline of a man standing on its peak.
A familiar man, though the timelines are that skewed. He doesn't realize this yet.
He's not even a memory to you.
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He doesn't notice Midgar beyond. Not yet. All he sees is that peak where so much of his world ended and the man at it's summit and he remembers, heart tightening and tearing and thumping too loud in his chest, in his ears. Zack.
Determined he may be but he still finds himself hesitating before that last climb and his voice comes out as dusty as the earth falling apart around him.
"Zack!"
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Why should he respond? What has Cloud done for him? He didn't even exist for a long while and that shouldn't earn the other's respect. Zack Fair's legacy was just as ruined at the sword in the ground, the sunflowers molded and wilted in the dirt. Blood drips steadily down to the rotted plants, landing upon them but disappearing almost immediately. It's a slow trickle at first, but then the crimson begins gushing out.
Maybe you'll trip and get it on your face again.
Maybe that would be enough to remind you.
No, the silence is enough.
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He had thought that he had lost the ability to dream when he was born. Apparently he's wrong, or he has discovered a power to visit dreams from others. It doesn't make a real difference, he's used to observe things and to immerse himself in them occasionally. Primo stands, observing the stars lazily, they look so much like world fragments that he's almost tempted to try to reach for one. It always feels strange to observe the stars, something humans do quite often, something he himself did before as one.]
What kind of dream is this?
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Consciousness. Dreams.
You wanna try your luck?
[If he happens to look down, the rubble moves. It crumbles and groans, shifting into a pathway that then leads to some sort of portal in the middle of this aether. The blurry sight of a dark city can be seen, the sky forever obscured by black and green-tinged clouds.
Will you do it? Will you step forward?]
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I don't believe in luck. Even if I did, we both don't get along.
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No. I won't say anyone's lucky.
In fact, we're all screwed in the end.
[Underneath his feet, this newcomer will find bright, yellow lilacs sprouting through the grimy, cragged surface.]
But it's okay.
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