wingsdreamt

[wingsdreamt]

.

[wingsdreamt]

Having normal conversations about anything, even something as mundane as the canteen’s latest horrific science experiment, makes it all the easier to bear what is abnormal about their lives. Like how Shinra declared victory over Wutai and broadcast their triumph for weeks on the nightly news, in the papers, and on the radio despite the sudden and violent departure of a majority of its personnel directly responsible for that outcome. Victory feels hollow, even without the insult of misattribution.

Cloud has the same dreams he had, unmarred and untouched by the controversy lurking behind the glamorous face of the SOLDIER recruitment campaign. Despite the hypocrisy of it all, Zack finds Cloud’s ambition worth encouraging.

“...Uh-huh…” Zack takes his time processing Cloud’s confession and manages to keep a straight face throughout. He nods slowly.

“That explains a lot.”

Not unlike another highly esteemed colleague who he’s been working with recently. Through no fault of his own, Cloud Strife came off a little intense sometimes. Even so, truly knowing someone takes more work than waving hi or trading pleasantries in the Company’s byzantine network of hallways and elevators. 

“Oh, c’mon, Cloud, they don’t know the first thing about me! And they don’t know anything about you either. Otherwise they’d have figured out how awesome you are.” Zack playfully bumps his shoulder into Cloud’s as the hallway widens up into Skyview Hall’s high ceilings and tall glass windows. Coming to an abrupt stop and nearly bowling over a clerk who was trying to shuffle past him from behind, Zack plants his hands on his hips with a frown. “Come to think of it, I don’t know that much about you either.”

He really ought to put his gil where his mouth is. Zack offers Cloud a sheepish smile.

“Look, I know my schedule has been hectic and stuff but my lunch offer still stands. Just give me the word and the where and I’ll be there.”

@wingsdreamt asked -- "Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"not intentionally." cloud never took his eyes off his boots, suddenly feeling quite naked without his public security helmet. normally the thing was the bane of his existence. it was stuffy, made it hard to hear the world around him, and never had quite enough room for his hair - but right now he would give anything to be swallowed up in its anonymity.

zack fair wasn't supposed to ask questions. theirs was an easy friendship, one that cloud still wasn't entirely sure how he'd landed himself in (and was even less sure that he deserved). they talked about work, mostly, with the infantryman hanging on the SOLDIER's every word. zack would inevitably crack some stupid joke, something a younger cloud would find childish and immature, and cloud would betray himself by laughing anyway. sometimes they'd talk about their hometowns. never anything profound. normal friendships, he supposed, ran deeper than that. he didn't have many to go off of.

(sometimes, in the barracks, cloud would recall zack's work stories, and imagine himself behind the sword - no, fighting by his side. a pipe dream, sure, but one that made the long nights somewhat bearable.)

"i mean, i don't try to. i just never know where i'm pressing, or what the buttons look like." he thought back to the other kids in nibelheim, who seemed to cast him out before he even opened his mouth. he was always breaking some sort of unspoken social rule, even now. his comrades found him too closed-off, too awkward, and so mostly left him alone. to his superiors, he was a little too desperate to prove himself. zack didn't seem to care about any of that stuff. "something about me just rubs people the wrong way."

he laughed sheepishly, not used to opening up like that. "i suppose that's not something you've ever had to worry about. people just, like... love you."

[wingsdreamt]

said fuck it, went back and gave zack the protagonist hair he deserves since i was also giving tifa a consistency pass (and then posting them separately so i can reblog it on my rp blog kdsjfjs). trying not to guilt myself over reposting the same things because hey, there's always something that can be fixed so just fix it 🤷‍♀️

actually cropped zack out a bit more to match the others too, which is a bit of a shame.

[wingsdreamt]

“What, you think he won't get it? There's no way. C’mon, my technique is perfect!”

More winking, as if it does anything to prove his point. You aren't real friends if you can't be willfully obtuse in the face of matters of life and death, after all. 

Comms are an art form in of itself, and Zack is still in the midst of mastering the question of when and where with his new promotion. The thought of making the wrong call twists his stomach into intricate knots even on the better nights. For the time being, it's enough to know that they aren't walking directly into a trap. With the ranks of SOLDIER decimated, he is too keenly aware of just how fragile the infantrymen accompanying them are. He also knows that he's going to get an earful from the Director himself when they report back. There's no way around the fact that the mission failed.

“I…did the right thing, didn't I?”

❛   wink .  They had, of course, discussed all necessary nonverbal cues to exercise if it looked like the mission was heading south, but Zack continues winking his eye in rapid succession just to be sure.

Loud & Deafening Silence:

This was a shit mission to begin with and Kunsel had tried to voice his concerns to Director Duesericus, but he hadn't wanted to hear of it. There wasn't enough recon done, too many variables and now it was all coming to a shitty culmination.

Taking a breath to call over to Zack, Kunsel knew retreat lay with the highest-ranking Soldier on this mission, and with his recent promotion to 1st, that was his pal. Turning to gauge the rest of their party, Kunsel was caught off-guard by the string of winks and he wished he had his helmet on him right now. Despite the scenario, he wanted to laugh so badly.

"Roger, fall back it is. Give the order." Smothering a grin, he touched his throat-mic and nodded to Zack. Only when they were loading onto the ex-fil transport did Kunsel give in and chuckled freely, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Dude ... do me a solid and please don't use that signal with Sephiroth on a mission, okay?"

[wingsdreamt]

“I mean– we do, but, er…” Zack flounders terribly like a fish out of water for any sort of reason that could possibly compel Aerith into a more sensible course of action. Finding none and to be insulted verbally on top of that he simply cannot stand. 

“Oh please, I’m a SOLDIER, aren’t I? This is nothing! Scared. Hah.” 

Zack tromps across the walkway made of layers of steel sheets and chunks of plywood with less grace than a behemoth.The abrupt transition from awkward inner monologuing to bluster and peacocking ought to be embarrassing more than anything, but Zack conveniently left his dignity at home. A few steps forward and without any sort of preamble, Zack turns and launches himself right off the lip of the building. 

Down he goes, even if the acrobatics last less than a second. He sticks the landing, flawlessly distributing his weight across three points on the ground. Popping right back up to his feet, arms outstretched, Zack hollers up, “Okay, now your turn!” 

Aerith holds her arms out at her sides like a big letter T and glances back at Zack over her shoulder, brow furrowing like she just simply can't understand why he's saying that. "You mean we don't need to get across here?" Sure, across is different from jumping down, but there's only so many paths forward and Aerith is, to her credit, usually a lot more patient than she's feeling today. She wants to mess with Zack, too--Which isn't helping fend off her instinct to poke at his very sensible concern with her own love for doing things she probably shouldn't.

"Come on, Zack!" She pivots on her heels to face him and punches her fists into her hips, cheeks puffing out with mock irritation as she holds back a snicker at his tone. "You're not scared, are you?"

[wingsdreamt]

❝ well, i'll just jump off that bridge when I come to it. ❞ from aerith :DD

"Aerith."

There are a million different possibilities as to what Zack Fair may be thinking this very moment, but right now it teeters alongside Aerith's sense of balance back and forth across the line of: 'mildly concerned as her body guard who cares very much about keeping her in one piece' and 'ready to explode with excitement because of the sheer audacity.'

"Aerith, that is a literal bridge."

And Aerith is about three steps away from said bridge, a poorly mangled gangway stretched between two half-finished tenements in the abandoned maze of abandoned construction going from Sector Six to Sector Five. Zack only needs to make up his mind on whether she's actually dead serious about following through with it sometime in the next thirty seconds. He's confident in all the nice little perks of reaction time and twitch muscle fiber improvements afforded him through the SOLDIER enhancements, but he isn't about to gamble on his luck.

"You're not actually going to jump." He tries to sound more optimistic than he feels without somehow stoking Aerith's daredevil instincts at the same time.

[wingsdreamt]

However much of a threat that the law offices of one Phoenix Wright pose to the might of Shinra Company's deep, deep coffers, Zack can't imagine that this guy somehow manages to give the Turks a run for their money. Zack blinks slowly.

Looks, upon closer inspection, are probably a poor qualifier for the standard of intelligence. Excluding the peculiarly manicured eyebrows, they don't look entirely dissimilar from each other. There's something to be desired about making rude assumptions based on a stranger's appearance.

Pot meet kettle, or so the saying goes.

"Yeah! That's right!"

Zack quickly wipes the grin from his face. He has to at least try not to look so cheesed about the recognition. Reno should have been the one standing in the doorway right now, doing his own stupid job, but Zack has learned that it pays to have a favor or two from a Turk in your pocket at all times. Speaking of pockets, he needs that stupid piece of paper with the legalese spiel Reno prepared for him. Zack fishes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and reads from it with an occasional glance up at Phoenix's bewildered face.

"My name is Zack Fair, SOLDIER Second Class, here representing of the Shinra Electric Company and all its associated legal entities, henceforth referenced as 'the Company'. As you know, the Company is in charge of holding institutions up to the standards that have been established by the fairly elected governing bodies of the city of Midgar and its representative..."

Zack loses all sense of time and meaning behind anything he has read by the time he finished the last line on the tiny text printed on an equally small piece of paper.

"Um...I think...You're supposed to let me come inside?"

@wingsdreamt | zack and some ff7 phoenix verse i just pulled out of thin air i will try to have a verse post up at some point tonight KJDSFK

"Ummmmmm." Phoenix is no stranger to threats. But frankly he's more used to the Turks and their way of doing things. SOLDIER on the other hand? All that muscle and brawn and the mako in their eyes? Yeah, Phoenix can handle the Turks and their shady methods and veiled threats, but he can't punch or handle a sword or any kind of materia. The pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword but what good will that do if Phoenix can't even pick up a pen? So. "You're...totally a SOLDIER." Great start Phoenix.

He keeps his body squarely planted in the middle of the doorway. No way he's letting Shinra eyes peer over the contents of Wright & Co. Law Offices even if that just means Zack's only going to see his beloved plant Charley in the corner! No way! "Are you here to beat me up a little bit?" Phoenix smiles wryly but it's clearly not without some level of stress, sweat already springing on his brow. "I'd rather skip that if it's all the same to you. Or do you need something? I have to remind you of lawyer confidentiality, ok, so don't ask anything too...out there." By which I mean stupid. But Phoenix isn't going to say that to a SOLDIER.

[wingsdreamt]

“And what about the people that have suffered at your hands?!”

Milk teeth are no less sharp. Flesh tears all the same. He grips the handle of his sword so tightly that the leather stretched across the backs of his knuckles creaks in protest. 

Sephiroth, Angeal, Genesis– these three, they were supposed to be the best of SOLDIER. It was not one or two or some varying combination of its members, but all three of the Firsts whom upheld the aspirations and hopes of everyone that would come after. 

“Your men trusted you. They left Shinra for you. You’re a–” 

Zack cuts himself with a gasp that isn’t quite a sob as he squeezes his eyes shut and bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper. He won’t finish the sentence. It is enough to have thought it. None of his arguments make what Genesis said untrue. All of his arguments make what Angeal said true. 

SOLDIER is a den of monsters.

“No matter what they took away from you…”

He’s known since that moment. Of the all the ways this could have ended, of all the things any one of them could have done to prevent it, nothing stopped them from being human enough to fuck up at every chance. The buck would stop with him, eventually. 

For now… 

For now, he has to try. He has to try, even if the cinders of Banora have already been lost to the wind.

“What about what do you have? Your friends? Your family?! Don’t they matter?!”

"Shamelessness does not begin to describe your behavior."

ANTAGONISM — HATRED

He doesn't respect Zack, he simply can't.

At first he was considered a novelty, a new pet project of Angeal's for the busybody teacher between the two of them. Genesis merely settled on driving with inspiration and calls for glory and it certainly seemed to work in his favor just enough to have a number of heads follow him into desertion.

But then Zack actually showed promise. A drive that demanded attention and dedication to reaching first that almost reminded Genesis of himself. Almost.

Because if he actually considered Zack and compared the two of them together... he wouldn't actually like what he found.

That is why he is so loudly disrespectful of him, treats him as an annoyance instead of a proper enemy, demeans his every attempt to get either him or Angeal to see any sort of sense:

Zack has all the qualities he lacks.

So every insult, every curse aimed in his direction he takes as a point of pride, a compliment to his vicious and tenacious temperament. People may not like him, hate his methods, but he got results one way or another, and he'd always have his way.

"What do I need of shame? What purpose does it serve? Don't be so naive, puppy, this is who I am and who I have always been. Would it be more comfortable for you if I was coy about my anger? If I danced around the betrayal I have suffered at the hands of Shinra? Don't make me laugh."

[wingsdreamt]

🐝  *  ―  𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  you will not fall. i will not allow it.  ❜ ❛  i could torch him if you like. but you do seem attached.  ❜ ❛  you're making us look bad. stop it.  ❜ ❛  i chose him for his inability to relent.  ❜ ❛  at least i didn't let you fall to your death.  ❜ ❛  but i will not run. i wouldn't be standing here if i'd quit every time something seemed impossible to overcome.  ❜ ❛  the right way isn't the only way.  ❜ ❛  justice is not always merciful.  ❜ ❛  the reason we'll never be anything more than friends isn't because of your rules. it's because you have no faith in me.  ❜ ❛  i'm used to functioning in pain, asshole. are you?  ❜ ❛  in the darkest moments, it is our light that shines the brightest.  ❜ ❛  fear is not the enemy, but rather the catalyst for growth and bravery.  ❜ ❛  the only limits we have are the ones we set for ourselves.  ❜ ❛  courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to face it head-on.  ❜ ❛  going for blood today, are we, [name]?  ❜ ❛  i don't deserve you. but i'm going to keep you all the same.  ❜ ❛  there's nowhere in existence you could go that i wouldn't find you, [name].  ❜ ❛  you look all frail and breakable, but you're really a violent little thing, aren't you?  ❜ ❛  defenseless women have never been my type.  ❜ ❛  even when i'm not with you, there's only you.  ❜ ❛  there is no me without you.  ❜ ❛  i've been yours for longer than you could ever imagine.  ❜ ❛  i know exactly who and what you are, [name].  ❜ ❛  we're all broken in some way, but that doesn't mean we can't find beauty in the cracks.  ❜ ❛  if i get my hands on you, really, honestly get my hands on you, i don't know if i'll be able to stop.  ❜ ❛  she exists and i get turned on. i've come to accept that particular truth over the last year.  ❜ ❛  fuck, i'm never going to get enough of you, am i?  ❜ ❛  not that i wouldn't climb the man like a tree if presented with the right set of circumstances.  ❜ ❛  let me guess, you could smell my perfume. isn't that what always gives the heroine away in books?  ❜ ❛  do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? it would be faster.  ❜ ❛  hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. it steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs - on the probabilites.  ❜ ❛  you can't make me fall in love with you and then die.  ❜ ❛  none of this is worth it without you.  ❜ ❛  i'm so wildly in love with you that i can't imagine what my life would look like without you in it. and i probably shouldn't have said that, but if we're doing this, then we're starting from a place of complete honesty.  ❜ ❛  you never considered that it was you i couldn't stay away from?  ❜ ❛  you turned oranges into a weapon, [name]?  ❜ ❛  you're going to be the death of me.  ❜ ❛  have you always been this tall?  ❜ ❛  no one stays friends forever, [name]. eventually those closest to us become our enemies in some way, even if it's through well-intentioned love or apathy, or if we live long enough to become their villains.  ❜ ❛  i need you to survive this, even if i hate that i still love you.  ❜

[wingsdreamt]

She tucks a stargazer lily behind his ear, adjusting it so it stays put. “Bee-yootiful.”

Which is perfect for him, because Zack loudly smooches Aerith's pre-puckered lips before she has a chance to pull back to admire her handiwork.

"Geez, I was about to say the same thing!" Zack runs a hand along the smaller spikes of hair just in front of his ear with an irrepressibly coy grin. "I mean, assuming we're talking about the flower and not me."

[wingsdreamt]

Zack grins brightly. Sephiroth’s capacity for consternation and exasperation seem intact, therefore his concerns regarding permanent damage have been allayed. A hair or two out of place (more than, if he’s being honest) is not the most shocking development for people who have spent the night roughing it on a torn up sleeping bag, but it is incongruent with his own mental image of Sephiroth.

And a few other things.

“Ah! Don’t mind him. He’d wave back and all, but. Well.” He should stop talking about this. Right now. “Yessiree, I am alive and well.”

Something to laugh about, at least, even with a fiery blush lighting his cheeks. A quick glance about provides inspiration in the form of lifting his wings up from the ground and loosely overlapping both limbs at the wrist just above his waist to form a feathery skirt. He definitely isn’t going to forget about holding up his wings at the worst possible time, so it’ll be fine. Zack stands up, then makes a face when reality provides immediate feedback. The feather skirt was a nice thought, but his whole ass is most definitely hanging out. Zack strains to look over his shoulder to affirm what he already knows. There’s one idea out the window. Shame. 

“Aaaand I’ll take that.” 

There isn’t much to clean and pack up, especially after Zack decided that what was left of Sephiroth’s poor sleeping bag was now charged with protecting his decency. The strangest feeling of all is the lack of purpose wrapped around practiced routines as they kick ashes into the dying embers of last night’s campfire. 

They (meaning Sephiroth) pick a direction to start walking, and Zack is content to take in the sights and sounds rather than fill the air with chatter. For a time. The sky here is grey, overcast and achingly familiar. The clouds hanging in the sky are not heavy with smog and mako particulates, but with the promise of rain. Native grasses and shrubs make irregular appearances around rocks and crevices, following dry runnels where rain last fell. The farther they hike from the mako pool, the less verdant the landscape becomes. He hasn’t forgotten the geography of the badlands, even if its horizon has changed. 

“Serious question–Is it rude to ask a guy what his gil situation looks like?” He hesitates to say the word our, because presuming anything is a quick way of adding to the ‘awkward situations with Sephiroth’ list he’s been working on. Zack has a hard time keeping a straight face anyway. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a roommate, would you?”

@wingsdreamt

Sephiroth, by contrast, settles into a blissfully dreamless sleep. At least, as far as he knows; it's a rare thing, and whether dreams don't exist or they're simply boring or "normal" enough to not be remembered doesn't matter. It's dark and warm and comfortable and nothing else matters.

For a while. For long enough to get something akin to rest, which is shattered abruptly enough to feel a little like the planet itself has tried to tilt him off of its surface. He wakes not to immediate pain but a resigned and indistinct thought that's closer to relief than annoyance; the inevitable is finally happening, so he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.

Then the rest of the details come into shaky focus. Eventually. It is focus rather than vision doubling or worse, but it's an unpleasant spread of something that is not restful comfort. Being stricken with feathers ought to feel a bit less impactful, if he does say so himself.

Still laying down and gazing up, the name is entirely too easy to add sharpness to. "Zack." There is a limit on coherence upon waking up. There wasn't, once upon a time, when his body was differently honed and his mind had an exceedingly large problem with actually blanking to the point of relaxation anyway, but given that he's human in every way that matters now... "If you've woken me with a concussion then I'm going to need a moment to recognize it."

--Wait, that doesn't make sense. Does it? Did it? Hands rubbing over his face in more than minor frustration, Sephiroth supposes it doesn't really matter if he's conscious enough to think about what does and doesn't make sense. He's also a person who needs time to wake up now, or coffee, or any number of things which are preferably not panic, and while that's probably what he should be feeling given the situation, it's just tired frustration echoing back at him.

But it's also a stark reminder of who is holding up fingers. Who woke him, the stunning proof of reality unfortunately likely to result in a headache at best, but that makes it real all over again. True. Still partially speaking through his hands, he laments dryly, "If the proof of your re-existence in physical form is a bump on my head, so help me..." There's not much anger in the words, though. He can't quite manage it.

He does manage to finally draw his hands away from his face for long enough to see the nervous look he's getting. Roughly one second before he also remembers what state of undress Zack is in, eyes darting down-- Right back up again. "Is it appropriate to say good morning?" He really doesn't know who he's directing the question toward.

[wingsdreamt]

³⁾ tangerine quarters -unforestalledreturn

@unforestalledreturn

Tangerine quarters, arranged on the cafeteria table's stainless steel surface. Zack presently has his chin dropped low to the table, staring at the bright orange fruit slices with intense scrutiny. They look more like they ought to belong in some executive's office, hanging off the wall and frozen for eternity in linseed oil and turpentine.

A small puff of breath knocks away a curly portion of tangerine peel. He does not reach out to help himself, but the urge is certainly there. Zack must take the citrus oils staining his fingertips as a consolation prize for the time being.

Real, fresh fruit could never grow in the barren soil clinging to the walls of the city. Across the ocean to the south and far east, citrus trees were a common sight. Citrus peels are childhood memories, the bough of a tree curving against his back as he pops tangerine slices into his mouth and gazes out at the herd of maloceros rooting in the soft earth of the Gongagan jungle.

"These have to be shared," Zack insists. "I can't take it anymore!"

Freshly returned home from the war effort abroad, the last thing Zack had ever anticipated was watching his colleagues play elaborate games of hot potato with carefully wrapped and decorated boxes of fruit. Something about respect and honor and company tradition. Too many ands.

"Fruit expires. They need to just eat it. Why does everyone keep giving these away?!" Certain communication channels accessed via PHS were meant for important circumstances. Zack had not shied away from using them to gather persons of interest. "I'm gonna finish getting on my soapbox and then--" Zack drops a pointer finger onto the table with a growl.

"We are. Gonna. Get. Fruity."

[wingsdreamt]

12) brown eyeliner

"You really think brown is my color?" Asks a guy who knows nothing about what his color actually entails and keeps trying to catch glimpses of himself in the mirror so he can see what Aerith is doing rather than committing any of her actual instructions (particularly "Stay still!") to heart.

Anticipating reprisal, Zack quickly settles back down with his hands neatly clasped in the space between his crossed legs while the tip of Aerith's pencil continues its path across the top of his eyelid.

"Why did we need to do this again? Not that I have any objections. " Zack purses his lips, then puffs his chest out while he croons, "Oooh. You better watch out, Aerith. If I'm too dashing, you're going to need a baseball bat to keep all my suitors away."

[wingsdreamt]

"I must have been such an asshole." The words perfectly calm but out of the blue, a subtly nostalgic smile on Sephiroth's face as he gazed off into nowhere in particular. The past, perhaps. "I didn't understand it then. Confined, apart; I didn't recognize it. Easier to remain cold and detached all the time, for everyone and everything, but..." Impossible in every circumstance. Impossible to hold onto the armor for long when he cared, when he didn't have an audience to play for. He sighs. "I suppose it's only gotten worse, in ways."

"Not all the time," Zack counters, which at the very least confirms that Sephiroth may or may not have been an asshole some other percentage of the time. Alas, even Sephiroth must face his imperfections on occasion.

"You gave me time off once."

On its face, this small piece of evidence sounds like a joke. Might have even been construed as one, if not for the wry smile on Zack's face and the way he scruffs at the back of his neck. A brief moment of leave granted not from a direct ask, but from Sephiroth himself recognizing a moment of unspoken need when tensions were high and everything seemed to be falling apart. Even with everything falling apart. Recognition of the humanness of others, despite Sephiroth not often getting the opportunity to do so for himself. If at all, in those days.

Zack quirks a brow. "How could it have gotten worse?" He taps his chin, then gasps like a proper lady affronted.

"Unless...You've turned into one of those guys that cuts out their slice of pizza out of the center!"

[wingsdreamt]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ。 ﾟ。　 may prompts

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

¹⁾ an old bruise

²⁾ a green duffel bag

³⁾ tangerine quarters

⁴⁾ vending machine coffee

⁵⁾ two hair ties

⁶⁾ voicemail

⁷⁾ a crystal ball

⁸⁾ second cousins

⁹⁾ crumpled cinema tickets

¹⁰⁾ a dimly-lit warehouse

¹¹⁾ loose batteries

¹²⁾ brown eyeliner

¹³⁾ boardwalk

¹⁴⁾ pointe shoes

¹⁵⁾ a hula hoop

¹⁶⁾ a black scrub top

¹⁷⁾ sock puppets

¹⁸⁾ eleven

¹⁹⁾ limestone

²⁰⁾ tiger balm

²¹⁾ vice-principal

²²⁾ two years

²³⁾ a sprained ankle

²⁴⁾ finches

²⁵⁾ sea salt

²⁶⁾ a balaclava

²⁷⁾ a suntan

²⁸⁾ warm concrete

²⁹⁾ cornflower blue

³⁰⁾ old westerns

³¹⁾ lemongrass

[wingsdreamt]

Right! The sparkling cider. 

Excess in spades. Gongaga doesn’t have a regional specialty of its own (besides a mako reactor, but what small town doesn’t want one of those nowadays?). The first time he’d attended any such company-sponsored banquet Zack spent most of the night trying to figure out whether he could convince the waitstaff to let him box up all the leftovers and take them home. For some reason, it was the cider that always stood out. Something about it. Like someone poured their heart and soul into that fruit, even if the sentiment was cheesier than a wheel.

“I heard they get the banora white straight from a town that’s been cultivating the stuff especially for Shinra’s parties for ages.” Zack plucks off a glass for himself, then tipped his head back and downed the entirety of its contents with no decorum whatsoever. 

He notices it then as the last of the cider slides down the sides of his glass, innocuous, wrapped neatly into a bundle at the stems with a string of ribbon. 

Cloud’s cheeks, by this time, look as festive as the red drapes lining the walls of the room. Huh. 

“Hey, whaddaya know?” Zack points straight up at the innocent sprig of mistletoe, giving Cloud just enough time to look up and away. Cloud hadn’t tried to pull him away at the first opportunity when they stopped here initially, so Zack gambles on it. 

One very quick, perfectly innocent kiss pressed to the corner of Cloud’s mouth before he has a chance to react and plenty of plausible deniability for them both with the mistletoe bearing witness.

There was... a lot of food.

Sure, Cloud had expected the party to be grandiose but somehow still underestimated the overall capacity and presentation. He couldn't even name more than one or two of the dishes he saw. The catering staff bustled about serving libations while wearing friendly smiles to go with their pristine uniforms. The blond was only partly tuned in to what Zack was saying as one of the caterers made her way toward them and Cloud was debating on whether or not he wanted whatever it was that she would offer.

"Sparkling cider...?" Cloud gave his friend a lopsided little smile as if to tell him 'so you were saying?' regarding the aforementioned drink then took the glass closest to him from the tray. He dipped his chin in thanks. His eyes flickered up again once the woman left but instead of drawing focus back on the mistletoe, Cloud opted to sip his cider instead. There was nothing he could do about his flushed cheeks though.

[wingsdreamt]

Funny thing, having your own dreams again. Aerith taps him on the shoulder, reminding him that any guests in said dream deserve his attention and, well, isn’t that the darnedest, realizing what a nuisance he must have been to poor Sephiroth.

He doesn’t remember where they were, if there was a place, if there was even a when. The distinct edges of the dream have already begun to fray as he rubs the sleeps from his eyes. Rippling away like the broken face of a still lake. Maybe that’s where they were standing. But what were they talking about? The harder he tries to cling to the sound of her voice, the more he is left with only an impression of it. A brief dimple. A poke in the cheek.

Hopefully they didn’t discuss anything important. At least, not important enough to come into play later.

It’s impossible. He can’t maintain his grip. Zack cracks his eyes open. Birds chirp high in the trees and dart through the long grasses. No sign of daring monsters. The local fauna have given them a healthy berth. Their campfire is nothing more than smoking embers. He’s vaguely aware of Sephiroth’s warmth close beside him and a need to wriggle away to alleviate pinned limbs.

“Think m’ arm’s ‘sleep.” Zack’s face droops into an exaggerated grimace as static crawls up his arm, buzzing like an angry swarm of bees. Only it’s not his arm, it’s the giant fucking wings he forgot about and jerking while sitting up at the same time such that a giant, feathery wrist clocks his poor companion in the head was not the way he had planned on this morning going, but now it’s what he has to work with. Alongside a many profuse, unintelligible string of apologies. 

“Hahaaah…” His voice rasps just a smidgen from utter mortification. He can’t look Sephiroth in the eyes without squinting. “Hey, it’s not everyday I can say I was just born yesterday, right?”

Right. Because he’s really, actually, here. Back. Alive. All of the words that are that shouldn’t have been. 

“You’re not concussed? You’re okay? How many fingers am I holding up?” Zack alternates between two fingers, four fingers, three, all with the look of a man prepared to flee at the first signs of retaliation.

@wingsdreamt

Something about the familiar sound of disgust and annoyance out of Zack is so much more satisfying than it ought to be. There's no reason to hide his own amusement, and even if he thought to do so, he couldn't have. His grin is too wide to catch on to the internal thought process under the sound, to know exactly how concerned about being a personal project he likely needs to be. Perhaps it's worth tolerating, in any case.

Of course, he's only just becoming a little more fully aware of the immediate situation, grin falling slowly by degrees. "I see I also should have brought a notebook with me in order to list the grievances. Depending upon whether or not my arms are pinned in the night." A dry and airy response, despite wondering how good of an idea this whole thing really might be. Lack of options aside, Sephiroth still isn't at a point where he minds. It's just going to be...

Awkward. And that likely doesn't matter, either. Both alive when they shouldn't be, in a situation far removed from anything they could have prepared themselves for, far from ideas like societal norms. Witnesses, now that's something he refuses to think about entirely.

He does watch, however, politely averting his eyes when it seems like he ought to, hoping the heat he can feel on his face isn't translating entirely to any visual proof. Easily denied, in any case. He outright snorts at the invitation, but it's hardly a time to turn it down. It doesn't actually feel as awkward as it possibly should, and really it's--

Warm. Deciding to ignore Zack's comment about sleeping entirely, Sephiroth tries to sound mildly annoyed instead. "I'm sure it's more comfortable than trying to sleep in a frozen wasteland, in any case." A successful enough grumble, he thinks.

Then the warmth cools ever so slightly. Suspicion. Of what? For what reason? Well, Zack is frankly his own reason, but even that is a stunningly easy to accept bit of nostalgia. More or less. Related. He is tired, come to think of it. Shifting slightly, he considers more words, something embarrassingly poignant for the sliver of a single second, then thinks better of it. "Good night. Should a wild chocobo come across us in the morning, it will be up to you to communicate our peaceful intentions."