chaiinslash

[chaiinslash]

❝ When the dance floor calls, you gotta answer. ❞ from aerith

— [ wednesday sentence starters ]

Spending time with Aerith was always the best part of any day. Any week. Any month, really. To be around her was like a balm to soothe the scalding burns of SOLDIER life, and it almost made him feel normal - and normal was best, right? She'd said it, after all.

Today as he walked with her, hand in hand, through the Sector 5 Slums, the sound of music catches both of their ears. While he didn't need her insistence to tell him to chase after it, the way she tugs on his arm and leads the pair of them to its source was enough to put a big, stupid smile on his face. When they arrive, it's to a space apparently cleared out for a small band to work in, makeshift instruments and their cases laid out on the floor to catch gil from passersby who liked the tunes.

These weren't uncommon in the city at all, but this was the first time he'd ever had the time to really stand and listen to one. Not that he's standing for long, because as the beat picks up, a guitarist beating his feet against the side of an empty suitcase for percussion, Aerith's grabbing him by both gloved hands and pulling him out into the center of the small gathering and saying, "When the dance floor calls, you gotta answer!"

Zack didn't know how to dance. Like, at all. It was just something they didn't teach you in SOLDIER school, it was something he never did back in Gongaga - and here he was, being yanked into it by his girlfriend, and the first thought he has isn't to run away, it's 'Oh god, I have to be careful or I'm gonna crush her toes under my boots!'

"Okay, okay," He laughs, trying to match her movements but to little avail, "but -- but you have to lead! And I don't know any dance moves either. If I embarrass us in front of everyone, you can't get mad at me!"

[chaiinslash]

❝ Use the words ‘little’ and ‘girl’ to address me again and I can’t guarantee your safety. ❞

— [ wednesday sentence starters ]

"... But that's what you are, right?"

Zack raises a gloved hand before the girl, pinching thumb and forefinger together with just an inch between them to indicate the size of the miniscule ninja.

"You're a little girl! What else would you be?" He's about to laugh and say 'a beautiful woman?'... but for the first time in his young life, something tells Zack that he's in the danger zone. Even when it came to a kid.

And he had made her cry. Like, three times, at least. Maybe more.

So. He refrains. Like a good boy.

"Alright, fine. What should I call you instead?"

[chaiinslash]

So, nothing this guy was saying made any sense. Also, again, why was he asleep in a coffin? What kind of atonement had you sleeping for twenty-five years? Something had to be wrong with this guy.

The oddly dressed stranger tells him that no, Jenova isn't Sephiroth's mother - and beyond that, gives him another name entirely. One he doesn't recognize. Which he guessed made sense, because since when was ShinRa even an ounce's worth honest about these sorts of things? It was a bitter pill that he was still swallowing, that left a bad taste in the back of his throat.

"... I don't know who that is," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. He's about to say something else when -- Vincent snaps his hand in the air between them, essentially cutting Zack's words with a gold tipped knife. The boy tilts his head back in surprise, blinking as he's told that the coffindweller had no right to be telling Sephiroth anything.

Immediately, without thinking on it, Zack says, "That's bullshit!"

Harsh words for a boy his age, but he calls it like he sees it.

"He's not going to listen to just me, if I walk up to him without any proof and say, 'Oh, you know that lady that everyone's been saying is your mom your whole life? Well, she's not! Yeah, some guy in the basement with a cape and unwashed hair told me, totally reliable, right?" He donks the side of his head with a gloved hand as if it should've been obvious.

"Look, if you know something, you should help. I can't do this on my own, man. It feels, like, way out of my league, and if ... I dunno, if you feel like you need to atone for something, wouldn't helping me do that?"

chaiinslash:

“You’ve been asleep THAT long?”

That was the first takeaway here, despite the fact that he was giving incredibly important information about Sephiroth; his eyes shift from the man’s rather youthful (if gaunt) face and the coffin he’d been laid in. Twenty-five years asleep? Leaning forward some, Zack attempts to peer into the coffin’s depths, as if some great secret would be revealed.

Reeling himself back several mental feet, he settles his gaze upon Vincent entirely, his mouth twisting slightly to the side. His gaze flutters around the room again, considering the state of the manor, the haunting look of the basement - was this anywhere to be experimenting?

It was out of the way, he guessed.

“You knew his mother … Jenova?” He asks, head canting slightly, “And, uh, we were here to check out the reactor on the mountain, but … something happened. I don’t know. Genesis was there, and …”

Was Zack Sephiroth’s friend? He liked to hope so, though he knew that the great hero was better friends with Angeal and Genesis than with him.

“I think I’m his friend, yeah. I definitely want to be there for him! But he’s kind of … I don’t know, he likes to be left alone a lot. If you know his mom, though, we should go to see him together! He’d love to hear about her!”

There was a part of him that wanted to just shove Zack by the forehead when he leans over and stares into the coffin after exclaiming surprise at the length of time he slept. But he simply remains put, because perhaps this man’s presence was also some kind of karma. He deserved to be bothered out of sleep by what he can only guess is a complete country boy with a sword too large to be practical.

“…Shinra really knows how to hire,” he mutters to no one in particular and equally doesn’t care if Zack can hear him. He then stares at the entrance to what is practically his tomb and then snaps his gaze back to the young soldier, “…what, Jenova? No, that is certainly incorrect- that is not his mother. Simply the name of the being used in the project that produced Sephiroth.” He contemplates for a moment, “…I suppose from a certain point of view that is a ‘mother’ of a sort. But no.”

The rest of it, he ignores, beyond noting the presence of a 'Genesis’. Surely that also carries a weight he’s not ready to deal with, but instead Vincent gives Zack another piece of information, “Lucrecia- that is Sephiroth’s mother. Doctor Lucrecia Crescent, part of the Jenova Project. I was assigned as her bodyguard.”

But Zack carries on and he immediately shuts him down with a snap of his gauntlet between them, “No. Absolutely not. I don’t have the right to tell him anything. But you can tell him he’s not inhuman. He had a human mother…you don’t get a child from nothing or ancient cellular material, after all.”

He isn’t sure if Zack is ready to know the other half of this equation, but for now, he takes an adamant stance against interfering further.

[chaiinslash]

Hearing your voice played back to you was often an incredibly disorienting experience. You sit there and think, 'is that really what I sound like?' and it always feels as if you wouldn't actually recognize yourself if you didn't already know when you hit the play button.

And so, at first, Zack isn't entirely aware of the fact that it was his own voice calling out to him. Normally he'd have lifted his head the second he heard someone set foot in the playground, much less waited so long that they spoke to him first, but desperately sad times call for desperately sad measures.

Being called handsome has him lifting his head up, though, because of course the dog would answer to praise. His expression is slack, as though he'd been very near to simply sleeping his sorrows away there on top of that slide. It wouldn't exactly be uncomfortable, considering the light hit the back of his neck just right ... but any thought of sleep flees him the second he makes eye contact with the figure that had drawn his attention.

"Uhhh." He starts, as if to answer the question, but it drags on, and on. Was he going insane now? Something something, great stress on the mind, something something, heavy emotional toll equals mental break?

Looking down at himself, Zack briefly questions both the other's existence and his own. First, he wonders if it was a hallucination. Then, he wonders if he's having an out of body experience. Nope, still wearing his own gloves, his clothes. The Buster Sword's hilt still sat leaned not far from his foot.

He looks to the other ... him.

"What, are they making copies of me too, now? Is that where this is going? I don't think I have it in me to kill myself, man, that's asking too much of me."

Either he’s been dreaming the past half decade or his fading consciousness has been enveloped in a convincingly realistic flashback of his life up until this point. Death. Near death. His chest twinges at the thought.

But why this point, exactly? Why dump him at the mouth of Evergreen Park? The powers that be could have at least let him keep his sword. Looking up at the open gap where the unfinished Sector Six Plate as he passes through the groaning hinges of the barred metal gate leading into the park, he’s struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. 

At this time of the day, the sun peers directly beneath the lip of Midgar’s upper sections to cast the tightly huddled slums in a blaze of light. 

Zack squints, dropping his hand away from his face where he had used it to form a visor against the blinding sun. The creak of a nearby swing-set makes him look away from Midgar’s boundaries and towards the silent playground structures devoid of playing children. Only then does he stop in his tracks, stunned into open-mouthed shock as his eyes climb past the yawning mouth of the sun-bleached green plastic of the bear-cat slide and lands on the hunched figure sitting on top.

Hardly a stranger. Someone who he probably knows better than they know themselves at this point.

Is there such a thing as half a second chance? This…isn’t really happening, right? He must still be out there, lying in a pool of his own blood just off the cliff face in the badlands. Reaching. Reaching for something. Someone…Zack scrubs tiredly at his face with the dried, cracked leather open palm of his neglected gloves. Scrub. Blink. 

Nope, still standing in the park.

Zack coughs into his fist to get the lone SOLDIER’s attention. No immediate response. He coughs again, louder. “Uh…Hi. Hellooo. Hello? Yeah, you with the handsome face. What’s the date?” 

Even if seeing the Buster Sword alone practically tells him all that he needs to know. 

[chaiinslash]

❝ Emotion isn’t exactly your strong suit. ❞

— [ wednesday sentence starters ]

Momentarily bewildered, Zack tilts his head back, brows furrowing. Eating lunch apparently turned into dissect Zack's mental state time, or maybe Cloud was just trying to be smarter than he was. Not that Zack understood.

"They're not my strong suit, what do you mean? I have so many emotions, dude..."

Maybe he doesn't get it. What he knew, though, was that Cloud was quiet and reserved, like just about every other person in SOLDIER. Was that what emotion was to them, not having any? Were you supposed to put all of that away, forever and ever?

He's playing with a puzzle toy, a cube covered in brightly colored stickers. You're supposed to make every side the same color, but he can't really figure it out - he's been working on it for the entire afternoon. Chk - chk - chk, he's shifting the pieces around, but at most, he's only filled in one line on one side, and he keeps messing it up, too.

It helps him think, even if he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Maybe you guys just need to learn how to express yourselves more! You know, there's this ShinRa Trooper who keeps picking fights with me, saying that that they're just as important as SOLDIER, or more important - he keeps getting really heated about it. Especially when I keep kicking his butt."

Chk - chk - chk, he turns the cube around in his hands, mumbling, "This is hard."

"Anyway. Maybe everyone else should get better at managing their emotions instead. I think I'm totally fine. After all, I've got a girlfriend, don't I? That's gotta count for something."

[chaiinslash]

whatever did i do?

@chaiinslash OUT HERE FUCKIN’ SLAUGHTERING ME

[chaiinslash]

❝ I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in revenge. ❞

— [ wednesday sentence starters ]

It took a long time, but eventually Zack learned to tune out the sounds of the bugs crawling across the walls outside the laboratory. It used to be that it would unnerve him to know that there were creatures, just on the other side of a set of doors, living and being free.

The sound drove him insane, made him realize the limitations of his own space, locked away in some deep hole in the ground underneath the charred remains of a village and the scene of a crime. The only time he found relief was when he was submerged in the mako, the fluid filling his ears and giving him a measure of much needed silence.

Any time he wasn't in those tanks, though ... was a different story.

Eventually, he took to thrumming his fingers against anything he could get his hands on. Pattering out a beat on the bars of his cell as he stares toward the far door, Zack wonders when someone's going to walk in next; he didn't have a clock at hand anymore, but he knew one of their meals would be soon.

"Wouldn't it be nice if they gave us an actual dinner for once? Like, a big slice of pizza and some fries?" Just the thought makes a dry mouth nearly water, but as he looks to Cloud, he sees the blond sitting cross-legged in the center of his cell, head bowed, breathing in a way that's almost erratic --

Zack had gotten quite familiar with these fits. Cloud was having more and more of them these days. He wasn't looking good, either - gaunt, unhealthy, sickly. Zack wasn't always smart, but he wasn't stupid either. He could see something was wrong, that they only had so much time left.

"Hey, Cloud." He calls to him, getting up and wandering over to the edge of his enclosure so he could press his forehead against the bars. Sometimes, he wants to tear them apart with his bare hands - he'd tried a few times, it never worked. "Are you okay?"

'I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in revenge.'

For the first time in a while, the droning of those bugs returns, and it's almost like they're buzzing right in his ears, clicking their legs where they'll bother him the most.

Zack sinks down, forgetting all about the idea of decadent meals and focuses instead on his friend. The only one he's got anymore.

"Don't worry. We'll get out of here. And ... I dunno about revenge, not ... not after everything I've seen ShinRa can do, but ..."

He donks his head against the bars again. "Hey, let's go somewhere together when we're out of here. Somewhere neither of us has ever been. We'll go get Aerith! I know you haven't met her yet, but I promise you'll like her. And I don't really know how to cook, but I bet she can - she can make us that real food we've been missing if we ask nice enough."

It's clear he's trying to distract Cloud, draw his attention out of his mournful reverie. The blond's boots scrape against the floor as he turns away from Zack, flopping over and curling into a ball where the other can't see his face.

Her murmurs something else, but Zack can't hear it, not over the buzzing, the clicking, in his ears.

[chaiinslash]

❝ Being your friend should come with a warning label. ❞

— [ wednesday sentence starters ]

"Being your friend should come with a warning label, that's probably what you're thinking, right?"

Zack turns his head to look at the figure slumped over in the motorcycle's sidecar. The stars overhead glitter, and the SOLDIER realizes he never thought he'd ever see them again - he thought he'd only have the memory, trapped down in that timeless basement, and as he props one leg up against the bike with his elbow against the edge of the sidecar, he wishes that Cloud was awake to watch it with him.

They both deserved that much.

"It's true. I guess I rush headlong into everything, I don't think enough through, I let my feelings guide me ... That's what everyone's always told me my entire life." Popping a stale chip into his mouth, picked up from some roadside store he bargained a bag from with the fifteen gil he found hiding in the sidecar's compartments, Zack huffs a laugh, "Slow down, Zack! You'll fall, you'll scrape your knees!"

He looks to Cloud again, "My mom used to stay that to me, all the time. But it never bothered me when I scraped my knees. Made me feel alive, y'know?"

Staring at the depths of the foil bag, he jostles it slightly before offering the open mouth towards his companion, "You want some?"

Cloud doesn't move an inch, only his hair moving in the slight breeze of the evening, his chest rising and falling in slow breaths that are the only tell the other was still alive.

"Yeah, thought so."

Looking back up to the sky, he watches a cloud glide over the moon, and he sighs. It's the heaviest sigh since this all began, where he could almost feel the time ticking down to the end - what end, he wasn't sure. But he had hope it would be a good end.

Maybe he'd at least get to see Aerith before it came.

"I didn't mean to get your knees scraped too, Cloud. I'm sorry. We're gonna get you taken care of though, I promise. And I'll be a better friend, once we're safe."

[chaiinslash]

"You've been asleep THAT long?"

That was the first takeaway here, despite the fact that he was giving incredibly important information about Sephiroth; his eyes shift from the man's rather youthful (if gaunt) face and the coffin he'd been laid in. Twenty-five years asleep? Leaning forward some, Zack attempts to peer into the coffin's depths, as if some great secret would be revealed.

Reeling himself back several mental feet, he settles his gaze upon Vincent entirely, his mouth twisting slightly to the side. His gaze flutters around the room again, considering the state of the manor, the haunting look of the basement - was this anywhere to be experimenting?

It was out of the way, he guessed.

"You knew his mother ... Jenova?" He asks, head canting slightly, "And, uh, we were here to check out the reactor on the mountain, but ... something happened. I don't know. Genesis was there, and ..."

Was Zack Sephiroth's friend? He liked to hope so, though he knew that the great hero was better friends with Angeal and Genesis than with him.

"I think I'm his friend, yeah. I definitely want to be there for him! But he's kind of ... I don't know, he likes to be left alone a lot. If you know his mom, though, we should go to see him together! He'd love to hear about her!"

chaiinslash:

Once again, his hands rise to defend himself, as if he expects the man to swing that clawed gauntlet right for his face. When he doesn’t, he lowers his hands slightly, but he can’t help but feel uncertain.

The deluge of questions briefly sets Zack on an edge of his own, and first of all he’s wondering exactly how a guy found sleeping in a coffin in the basement of some ratty old mansion could possibly know Sephiroth of all people. Then, he’s wondering, again, what’s this guy even doing down there? And he’s stuck on atonement.

Alright, this guy was weird.

“Sephiroth is … a SOLDIER, like me. First Class.” It used to be that he’d say that statement with pride. Not anymore, it seems. “I’m, uh, Zack Fair.”

A pause. Was he with Hojo? Well, technically, if you considered that they both worked for the same company –

“I don’t really like Hojo. He’s really weird. Really full of himself?” Shaking his head, he moves on with the intent to answer questions about Sephiroth as opposed to focusing on the weird scientist that ostensibly nobody liked.

“Do you know him? Sephiroth, I mean? He could probably actually really use a friend right now, if you’re one of his friends …” Glancing over his shoulder, he looks back only a moment later, “I don’t think he’s alright. I think … he’s dealing with a lot right now. I don’t understand but I think he thinks he’s … not human? And he’s not taking it well?”

A beat.

“And, uh. I think he’s … twenty-five? Twenty-six, right now? Why does that matter?”

Pacing back and forth, as if internally debating to leave or to stay in this gloomy place. On the one hand, this seemed terribly important and on the other, what right did he have to interfere now? But as Zack talks, Vincent pauses and swings around to face him.

“Soldier…Wait, SOLDIER?” testing the way Zack speaks the very word and realizing it means something else. And slowly, it comes together- Zack is a part of Shinra and when he speaks of Hojo, he further grasps that he’s not a part of the scientist’s retinue. But perhaps slightly worse- a result of his work. It’s not ideal by any means, but as long as the First Class SOLDIER Zack is not on the science department’s payroll or Hojo’s “good graces”, he feels less anxious and annoyed.

“…Zack. All right,” but then comes the flood of information on Sephiroth. He frowns at what he hears, speaking up with a leather clad hand held up to try and make Zack not ramble off too far, “Not human? That is horribly incorrect- he is very much human.” A moment to get his bearings, grasping the bridge of his own nose with that same hand, “…it matters, Zack, because that’s how long I’ve been asleep. Since around the point Sephiroth was conceived and born.”

He clears his hand away to stare directly at Zack, “I am not his friend, unfortunately, but I knew his mother. I know his origins- this manor and that library and lab all played a part in bringing him to life.”

“He is an unfortunate test subject, but he is human. Where and how did all of this come about- why are you all here? Are you his friend or just his co-worker?”

Speaking low, though for no other reason than to try and keep his voice from coming off as anymore threatening, “…you should be there for him if you value him at all.”

[chaiinslash]

Been playing Crisis Core: Reunion and this pupper continues to be rad.

[chaiinslash]

- 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

❝ Being your friend should come with a warning label. ❞

❝ It’s amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad game. ❞

❝ Are you mansplaining my power? ❞

❝ Emotion isn’t exactly your strong suit. ❞

❝ I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in revenge. ❞

❝ Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. ❞

❝ There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being proven right. ❞

❝  Because trust and cooperation have always been the hallmarks of our relationship. ❞

❝  Anytime I grow nauseous at the sight of a rainbow or hear a pop song that makes my ears bleed, I’ll think of you. ❞

❝ I’ve learned so much from you. Part of it is admittedly criminal behavior. ❞

❝ Not hugging is kind of our thing. ❞

❝ When the dance floor calls, you gotta answer. ❞

❝ Typically I have great admiration for well-executed revenge plots, but yours was a bit extreme, even for my high standards.  ❞

❝ Except I won’t cry and whine like a child. ❞

❝ I can’t believe you were in a secret society and didn’t tell me. ❞

❝ You brought a gun to a sword fight. Probably the first smart decision you’ve made today. ❞

❝ Emotion equals weakness. ❞

❝ I find social media to be a soul sucking void of meaningless affirmation. ❞

❝ These are all traits of great writers. And serial killers. ❞

❝ Sometimes I act like I don’t care if people like me. Deep down, I secretly enjoy it. ❞

❝ I like to win. Is that so wrong? ❞

❝ For the record, I don’t believe that I’m better than everyone else, just that I’m better than you. ❞

❝ Use the words ‘little’ and ‘girl’ to address me again and I can’t guarantee your safety. ❞

❝ If he breaks your heart, I’ll nail gun his. ❞

❝ You guys are making me nauseous. Not in a good way. ❞

❝ When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind: rope, shovel, hole. ❞

❝ You know the old saying, never bring a knife to a sword fight. Unless it’s concealed. ❞

❝ Secrets are like zombies, they never truly die. ❞

❝ Tears don’t fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again. ❞

❝ Please, flattery will get you nowhere. ❞

❝ I’m not friend material, let alone more-than-friend material. I will ignore you, stomp on your heart, and always put my needs and interests first. ❞

❝ Every day is all about me. This one just comes with cake and a bad song. ❞

❝ Emotions are a gateway trait. They lead to feelings, which trigger tears. I don’t do tears.❞

❝ It’s either they write our story or we do. You can’t have it both ways. ❞

❝ I don’t need your help or your pity. I already have a mother and a therapist. That’s enough torture, even for me. ❞

❝ I don’t bury hatchets. I sharpen them. ❞

❝ Friends are a liability and can be exploited. That makes them weaknesses. ❞

[chaiinslash]

Once again, his hands rise to defend himself, as if he expects the man to swing that clawed gauntlet right for his face. When he doesn't, he lowers his hands slightly, but he can't help but feel uncertain.

The deluge of questions briefly sets Zack on an edge of his own, and first of all he's wondering exactly how a guy found sleeping in a coffin in the basement of some ratty old mansion could possibly know Sephiroth of all people. Then, he's wondering, again, what's this guy even doing down there? And he's stuck on atonement.

Alright, this guy was weird.

"Sephiroth is ... a SOLDIER, like me. First Class." It used to be that he'd say that statement with pride. Not anymore, it seems. "I'm, uh, Zack Fair."

A pause. Was he with Hojo? Well, technically, if you considered that they both worked for the same company --

"I don't really like Hojo. He's really weird. Really full of himself?" Shaking his head, he moves on with the intent to answer questions about Sephiroth as opposed to focusing on the weird scientist that ostensibly nobody liked.

"Do you know him? Sephiroth, I mean? He could probably actually really use a friend right now, if you're one of his friends ..." Glancing over his shoulder, he looks back only a moment later, "I don't think he's alright. I think ... he's dealing with a lot right now. I don't understand but I think he thinks he's ... not human? And he's not taking it well?"

A beat.

"And, uh. I think he's ... twenty-five? Twenty-six, right now? Why does that matter?"

chaiinslash:

His hands lower slightly as the gun is taken away from his forehead, and Zack can only exhale a sigh of relief as he does as requested of him. He staggers back a few feet, giving the man his space, and then watches in disbelief as he does a flip right out of the coffin to land on the edge as if he were feather light, and not a fully gown man.

Though, there was a certain unhealthy gauntness to him, and as his eyes slide back and forth from his figure to the coffin he’d laid in, Zack can only assume he’d been in there for a while.

“Uh, a form of confinement?” The SOLDIER looks around the room in all its gloom and doom, its empty coffins and bleach-bone skulls. Alright, sure, he could see that. “… Okay.”

It still didn’t make sense. After all, more corpse than man? This guy was breathing, moving, as agile as anyone could be - he may as well be in the prime of his life, outside of the fact that he really did look like a scarecrow of a man.

Slowly letting himself relax, Zack looks back to the man on the coffin and the gun in his hand, lowered as it was, he says, “Uh, Sephiroth opened the door.”

A pause. “That’s the guy I’m here with. He should be in the library about now - I – I was gonna go talk to him, but I got distracted with what that kid wanted.”

“ … Seriously, why are you down here? I’d think if a guy was stuck in a spooky prison cell he’d be appreciative of being let out …”

He wasn’t feeling terribly willing to indulge in explaining his situation. If anything, hearing the young man just agree with him for the most part has Vincent quietly grateful. But looking around, Vincent feels the way in which he is out of place, or rather out of time. Uncanny and bizarre, but none more so than the intruder in his midst.

Brilliant blue eyes, a sword much too big to be practical, and spiked raven hair. And that uniform…he had not seen it before but somehow…

But that doesn’t catch his attention in full until the name ‘Sephiroth’ and the answer to who opened the way down here. Red eyes snap fully open and wider than one would think possible.

“Sephiroth? How do you know that name?! Just who are you?” Then the mention of him in the library- the library? Here? Now? “Wait, no, answer those questions and I’ll answer yours, but are you…with Hojo?” But to show some good faith, he answers at least one of Zack’s questions.

“I am down here as a form of atonement- I have…a lot to answer for,” he confesses, slow and trying to weigh his information, “…tell me, is he- Sephiroth- all right? How old is he…?”

There’s a cold sinking feeling as he asks those questions, as another one burns him. But for now, to try and keep things easy for what seems like a befuddled and easily led young man, Vincent tries to keep his questions fewer. But its clear that this sudden information has him looking closer to alive than previously considered possible.

[chaiinslash]

SOLDIER doesn't mean monster.

[chaiinslash]

— [ starter for @wingsdreamt ]

Strange, how things could change so much so quickly.

When was the last time Zack felt truly confident about anything he was doing? At this point, he couldn't pinpoint a single moment, only a constant barrage of life steamrolling him at every turn. Sometimes, he felt like his ability to steer his own life was wrenched from his hands entirely, leaving him a passive observer with occasionally unsheathed his sword.

Sword. Buster Sword.

From his perch upon the top of the slide in Evergreen Park, where he sat with knees up to his chest and his face buried into them, he lifts his head up just enough to see where he had leaned the blade against the open mouth of the concrete cat.

It was his now, not Angeal's. Though he was resolved not to waste the gift given to him, he could not help but feel stinging regret. Grief. A keen sense of loss. In moments like this, he wished to be by Aerith's side. Of course, he could not lean on her forever, he had to learn to stand on his own.

That's why he's here, instead of in the Church.

Staring at the hilt of the sword, he takes in a deep, heavy breath, and plants his face right back into the crook of his knees.

"This ... sucks."

[chaiinslash]

[chaiinslash]

not being able to trim my replies is going to drive me insane

[chaiinslash]

His hands lower slightly as the gun is taken away from his forehead, and Zack can only exhale a sigh of relief as he does as requested of him. He staggers back a few feet, giving the man his space, and then watches in disbelief as he does a flip right out of the coffin to land on the edge as if he were feather light, and not a fully gown man.

Though, there was a certain unhealthy gauntness to him, and as his eyes slide back and forth from his figure to the coffin he'd laid in, Zack can only assume he'd been in there for a while.

"Uh, a form of confinement?" The SOLDIER looks around the room in all its gloom and doom, its empty coffins and bleach-bone skulls. Alright, sure, he could see that. "... Okay."

It still didn't make sense. After all, more corpse than man? This guy was breathing, moving, as agile as anyone could be - he may as well be in the prime of his life, outside of the fact that he really did look like a scarecrow of a man.

Slowly letting himself relax, Zack looks back to the man on the coffin and the gun in his hand, lowered as it was, he says, "Uh, Sephiroth opened the door."

A pause. "That's the guy I'm here with. He should be in the library about now - I -- I was gonna go talk to him, but I got distracted with what that kid wanted."

" ... Seriously, why are you down here? I'd think if a guy was stuck in a spooky prison cell he'd be appreciative of being let out ..."

chaiinslash:

“Woah, woah, hey–!”

Immediately Zack’s hands fly up in submission at the touch of cold silver to his forehead. Though, he did suppose that if he was awoken from a deep sleep that maybe he’d be pretty pissed off too, so – yeah, sure, alright, Zack was definitely in the wrong here. But at the same time, why was this guy sleeping in a weird coffin in the basement of Nibel Manor, right next door to a huge giant library full of weird, mostly fucked up books?

“Sorry, man, I was just looking! There’s this myth about someone groaning and growling in this basement and a kid asked me to come check it out … I thought it’d be old beams or something, not, uh …”

One of those raised hands gestures vaguely in Vincent’s direction.

Though he had that gun still pointed at him, and one gloved hand hovers cautiously near the hilt of his sword, he doesn’t seem keen on actually starting a fight. If anything, he’s clearly apologetic, but also, nosey–

“What’s you doing down here? Your resting place? You, uh, you look kind of alive to me, man.”

A myth? Is that what happened while he fell asleep? How long had it been, really? There was a part of him that felt vaguely annoyed that the neighborhood children had started up some bizarre urban legend- but could he really blame them? An annoyed grunt escapes and he lets his gun down. But not his guard.

Staring at the young man hovering nearby with hands raised, he motions for him to stop looming and put them down. “Back up, if you would,” and if he doesn’t, Zack would get a literal sharp boot full of metal to the face as Vincent performs a surprisingly agile flip out of the coffin’s confines.

Landing lightly on the coffin’s edge, he stands there. Long black hair a mess, a red cape and dressed in heavy leather, he’s a scarecrow of a man. Stepping down from there, he keeps the coffin’s length between himself and the intruder, “Isn’t it obvious? Resting place, a form of confinement. Alive is relative- I am more corpse than man, really,” and all the while, his expression doesn’t shift much beyond a glare in Zack’s direction. A pale and bitter regard in his eyes, but nothing truly…emotional or alive despite his grave-like, threatening voice.

“…besides playing myth busting for the local children, what are you doing here? No one should have the ability to get down here without the key.”