Alright guys, we've had some fantastic entries this month!
Please vote for the one you feel is written best as opposed to the entry which covers a subject and/or characters you prefer.
Did the entrants capture their chosen characters? Is the dialogue well written? Did they capture the scenery and pull you into the world of Final Fantasy VII?
No flaming please. Avoid negative comments.
Entry 1:
Entry 2:
Entry 3:
Entry 4:
Good luck to everyone!
I shall cast my own vote and give comments later on this week.
Please vote for the one you feel is written best as opposed to the entry which covers a subject and/or characters you prefer.
Did the entrants capture their chosen characters? Is the dialogue well written? Did they capture the scenery and pull you into the world of Final Fantasy VII?
No flaming please. Avoid negative comments.
Entry 1:
TITLE:
[A JOURNEY'S END]
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It was the afternoon of a warm August day for Cloud Strife—a once strong hero now nothing but an old man—his face was now carved with wrinkles, his hair was thinner but somehow the spikey form remained, the sandy blonde was now a dark grey, his muscles depleted, his bones achy, and his heart heavy. Despite him turning 82 today, his eyes still looked as vibrant as ever—the one thing that always looked so full of life.
Cloud was sitting at the end of his bed, his hands shaking as he held a picture frame in his lap. He hadn't seen this picture in ages it felt and as soon as his eyes fell on the precious image there was no stopping the smile that gently formed on his old features. He remembered everything about the story behind this picture—where it was, what happened, who he was with. It was easier to fight off tears when he was younger but now, as an old man—it seemed impossible. The memories overwhelmed him and he felt his eyes beginning to gloss over. Only a few tears managed to make it past the rim of his eyes before his attention was stolen by the sudden knock of a door.
The sound gave him quite a shock, hardly anyone visited him now and despite it being his birthday, he wasn't expecting anyone. Sighing, he slowly stood, making sure to not allow his wobbly legs to get the best of him. He made it down the hall and to the front door and right as he was about to turn the nob he realized he was still holding the picture frame. He quickly made his way to the small round table nearest the sofa and gingerly put down the memory. Before he could turn back to the door he heard another set of knocks.
"I'm coming!" he growled back, annoyance playing on his raspy voice. He opened the door; "what do you want—" but stopped immediately as he saw who was at his door.
"Cloud," the young man in his early sixties said, amazed.
"Denzel," was all the old warrior could say. He hadn't seen Denzel in a few years and here he was. As grumpy as Cloud was, this was a good surprise. Even though they weren't blood related, Denzel was someone Cloud saw as family—almost like a son. He quickly stepped aside, inviting him in.
"Denzel," Cloud surprisingly chuckled as the two stepped into the living room, waiting until they were both seated on the sofa before starting their conversation. Once seated, Denzel took the opening; "How are you?"
"I'm turning 82 today, how do you think?" Cloud tried to joke about his age but the saddened look in Denzel's eyes told him it wasn't as funny to him. He never was great at jokes, probably shouldn't start now. He cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the awkwardness.
"But what about you? How is everything? Marlene's alright?"
Denzel could hear that his voice was much quieter and much weaker than what it once was. He was so much weaker now… it was a shock to see someone who he considered a strong hero now just an old man. Shaking himself from the thought that was about to enter his mind he answered; "Yeah, yeah everything is great, Marlene's good too." Denzel added dejectedly.
Cloud's expression grew curious; "Then what brings you here?" his grey brow lifting in question.
"I just wanted to check on you, Cloud. You're up here alone all the time. You shouldn't be alone on your birthday, too."
Cloud just nodded, unsure how to object to it or if he even wanted to. It was strange. Cloud didn't seem to mind having a guest today.
The men looked to the floor as silence fell over them. Cloud was unsure if it was a good or bad silence. He could see in Denzel's blue eyes that he was worried about him. He sensed that Denzel felt pity and sadness towards him for being in the state he was. It was nice knowing someone cared but it bothered him more so than anything else. He hated worrying the ones closest to him, but it was that look of sympathy in his eyes that bothered him most. He knew in the back of Denzel's mind he was expecting a funeral for his old hero. Cloud had tried his damndest to avoid any elderly help Denzel and Marlene had tried to offer him over the last few years but when Denzel urged him to come live with him so he could help take care of him, it pushed Cloud over the edge and they stopped talking completely… until now.
Cloud rose, his bones creaky and popping as he came to his feet. He moved a few inches and stopped to face his guest.
"Do you want something to drink? I know it must have been a humid as hell out there."
Denzel's head snapped up at the raspy sound of his voice.
"Uh, sure. But let me get it for us, Cloud—" he only made it a few inches off of the couch before the demanding tone in Cloud's creaky voice stopped him.
"I can get us some drinks, I'm not gonna die from it."
Before he could object, Denzel followed Cloud's form with his eyes and watched him slowly walk into the small kitchen, noticing a weak limp in his right leg. Denzel rested his face in the palm of his hand and sighed sadly. No matter how much he tried not to, the thought of Cloud one day leaving this world plagued his mind. He couldn't understand why Cloud wouldn't just let him help out from time to time. There was nothing wrong with it so why was he so against it? He figured it was the hardened hero past that was to blame. He knew it must be hard going from protecting others to needing protecting.
Denzel heard some silverware clanking together followed by a few curse words from Cloud.
"You need some help?"
"I got it," Cloud answered back dryly in a raspy voice.
Denzel sighed again and looked to the coffee table; something on it caught his eye. It was an old picture frame with an image of a much younger Cloud… but with a woman Denzel hadn't ever seen before. He picked up the frame and examined it more closely.
Right away Denzel noticed how beautiful the woman was.
The woman was sitting on the ground of a flowery meadow, Cloud sitting by her side with his arms crossed, his elbows resting over the top of his knees. She had her hands outstretched towards a chocobo that looked to be eating some kind of food from her hands. It looked as though the photo was snapped during a fit of laughter because the girl had her eyes closed as she smiled uncontrollably. However, it wasn't the unknown woman that caught Denzel's attention most. It was the way Cloud looked next to her, it was the smile on his face that astonished him most. He had seen Cloud smile before, even laugh—but this was different. There was a look in Cloud's eyes that Denzel never saw before, a look that he never saw him give to anyone else.
Although his head wasn't turned directly towards the woman, Cloud's eyes were tenderly focused on her, an affectionate and soft smile on his features. It wasn't a large smile, it was much more composed and discreet then the wide grin on the woman's face, but somehow the way he was looking at her seemed to reflect more happiness and love than any smile Denzel ever saw from one person.
He looked at her as if she was the light of his world, someone to cherish more than anything else.
Denzel's eyes slowly darted across their faces, trying to decipher just what it all meant. He was about to call out to Cloud when he heard Cloud's feet shuffling into the living room.
Cloud sat the tray of their drinks down on the table and let out a weak chuckle; "I hope you don't mind drinking ice tea, it's all I hav—"
"Who is this?" Denzel interrupted abruptly.
Cloud brought his gaze to meet the object that Denzel held in his hands and his expression softened as he saw the picture in his hand. He hadn't intended for anyone to see it, let alone Denzel.
"Who's this woman?" Denzel asked once more, turning the picture to face Cloud.
Cloud slowly made his way to where Denzel was and gently took the picture from him. He didn't quite know what to say or do so he turned away and let his gaze fall upon the image. There was a very long pause and Denzel could sense that Cloud was lost in thought. He couldn't see Cloud's face but if he could, Denzel would have seen the ex-mercenary's steel blue eyes glazing over.
"Cloud—"
"Aerith."
He paused again for what seemed like even longer than before.
"Her name was Aerith." He said once more, his back still turned to Denzel.
"She was a woman I used to know when I was younger…"
Denzel noticed Cloud's voice trail off, his head bowed in silence. He looked like a husband mourning the loss of his wife. It was strange for Denzel and it was a little hard for him understand. The entire time Denzel knew Cloud, he knew Cloud wasn't one to put his problems or emotions out on show for everyone and yet, here Cloud was, putting on a display Denzel had never witnessed before. He knew she must have been someone important to him but, if she was, Denzel wondered why this was the first time he had ever heard of her.
Unknown to Denzel, Cloud avoided speaking of this woman simply because... it was just too hard to talk about. He couldn't handle it...
A few moments passed and the silence was too doleful for Denzel to endure so he spoke what was on his mind;
"Did you love her?"
It was a simple question yet it felt so invasive for him to ask the old hero, nonetheless Denzel had to know. Denzel didn't know how to take the silence that had fallen between the two, then suddenly, Cloud spoke.
"She was my best friend." His croaky voice paused momentarily then picked up again, "She saw things in me that no one else ever saw—things that I couldn't even see myself…." His words were slow and Denzel noticed his jaw movement was restricted from either the old joints or his attempt to fight back succumbing to the immense pain he was falling back into. There was a very long pause again before Cloud continued after clearing his cloggy throat.
"She made me a better man." His voice broke as he delivered the words and Denzel couldn't tell if it was from his aged vocal chords or just a sign that he was breaking down.
He took a few steps away from Denzel, his back still turned to the only son he ever knew. As unbelievable as it was, Denzel could sense that Cloud was on the brink of tears. Denzel stood to comfort his old hero but stopped at the sound of Cloud's voice that, despite the deep raspy tone of it, somehow reminded Denzel of a lost child, overwhelmed with loneliness and sadness and ready to finally just go home.
"I would have stayed by her side forever if only—"he paused once more to clear his thoughts, realizing that he was about to delve back into an old issue that he had long since forgiven himself for. No matter how many years had passed, he still felt regret over what had happened but he knew that she didn't blame him for it and that was a good enough reason to stop blaming himself. He wasn't quite sure what had pulled him to go into such detail about their relationship in the first place. It was sort of funny to him, he always heard how the older you get the more you ramble on, and now it seemed that it wasn't as false as he once believed it to be.
Denzel asked a simple question, so he should answer it simply.
With the picture still in hand he faced Denzel, briefly making eye contact before averting his gaze back to the woman in the picture. His wrinkled thumb gingerly brushed across the dust covered glass, his old mind yearning for it be her face that he was caressing and not just the faded image of a memory.
"Yes… I loved her." He trailed off again and turned his back to Denzel.
"More than anything, I loved her." His voice, although shaky with age and emotion, sounded ardent and beyond a doubt.
There was a long pause as Denzel straightened his thoughts. He had so much to ask him. Were they ever married? How long did she know him? What happened to her? And most importantly, why didn't he ever speak of her until now? He wanted to ask those questions so badly but then he realized. He didn't have to know anything more about this woman other than the fact that Cloud loved her. If he loved her this greatly then she must have been a very good person, that much Denzel was sure of.
"She was very pretty." Denzel said softly, hoping that his words could somehow console him.
For the first time in years, Denzel heard Cloud chuckle, "She was beyond beautiful." his laugh turning into a fit of coughs towards the end as he paused to think.
Cloud smiled back genuinely as he remembered the curve of her face, the round shape of evergreen eyes, and her sweet smile. It hurt him to think about her features that he loved so dearly, especially knowing that he would never see her eyes or see her smile ever again, but at the same time—speaking of her after all these years felt like a relief. It was nice having someone to talk to about this woman that he adored more than anything.
Denzel frowned as he saw the smile that was on Cloud's face had faded and his cheerful tone gone with it. He looked to the ground and thought for a moment before finalizing what he was thinking of. If it would make Cloud happy then that was a good enough reason to hear more about this woman.
"Tell me more about her, Cloud."
Cloud turned, his creaky bones popping as he whipped around to face him. Cloud's Mediterranean eyes looked at him with confusion, unsure if he really heard what Denzel had said.
As if reading his mind, Denzel spoke again; "I wanna know everything." A warm smile spread on his face as he waited for Cloud to reply to his request.
Cloud averted his now hazy gaze to the floor and cleared his throat, his upper lip stiffening as he spoke.
He tripped over his words, "I-I don't know where to start."
"Then just start at the first day you met." Denzel smiled back warmly.
Cloud hesitated for a moment, and looked around the room as he contemplated what to do. He opened his mouth to say no but he found himself wanting the complete opposite. He looked at the younger man and nodded, a weak smile playing on his old face.
He sat down on the couch beside Denzel and slowly began; "It was early December, I just got finished with my first mission working with Tifa and Barret and I was on my way back to Seventh Heaven when I first met her. She was selling flowers and I bought one from her…."
He carried on with his past, his voice was hesitant at times as he made sure he was getting the exact details right but for the most part he seemed comfortable with telling his memories.
Denzel continued to listen to Cloud recall every detail about his past with this woman and the journey they took to save the world with the others. And the more he heard the more amazed he was. As bizarre as it seemed, Cloud had managed to make himself sound even cooler and more heroic than ever before, even at his age of 82. But he was both intrigued and saddened by Cloud's past. He heard of the times Cloud faced most danger, like when he gallantly snuck into Shinra Headquarters to save her or when he fought Sephiroth alone. But the thing that shocked Denzel most about Cloud's past was hearing about his memories with the sole cetra. The more he heard about him and this woman the more Denzel knew just how much Cloud loved her. He felt sad that Cloud had to spend his life alone and without the one he loved.
Without even realizing it, minutes turned to hours and the sun was slowly inching behind the horizon, the velvety night sky treading closely behind it. Cloud had told his story, every inch of it—good and bad, happy and sad. Although at times it was hard to continue speaking about her, he was happy that the person Cloud felt Aerith brought to him finally knew of the woman that saved him in more ways than one--her.
It was now dark and Denzel had been gone for a few hours, Cloud was already tucked away in his bed for one. The old hero was a little surprised at how much he enjoyed this birthday. He didn't get any gifts or even cake (nor did he want either) but being able to talk of his past was uplifting. And before long, Cloud had drifted off into sleep. He dreamnt of the things that he always did—a time when he was younger, the previous battles he faced, but more often than those he dreamnt of being with her. It was the same every day. He would fall asleep in one reality and wake in another—only to have it torn away from him.
And before long, Cloud awoke from his sleep, the sun that was brightly shining down at him being the culprit of his sudden awakening. As he shuffled from his side to his back he growled under his breath, annoyed that the curtains weren't keeping the sun from disturbing him. As he settled on his back he took a deep breath and smelled a faint fragrance that he hadn't experienced in years. It was a delicate and graceful smell—one that always soothed and gave Cloud a sense of peace. He loved that smell and he could never forget it.
"Lilies." He thought.
A drowsy and soft smile played on his lips as he drew in the dainty fragrance. As much as he adored that smell he wondered how the smell was in his old, dusty room and when he opened his eyes his breath was stolen by what he saw. He didn't see the faded and peeling paint of his bedroom roof but instead opened his eyes to see a deep blue sky and large clouds passing over him, casting a large fleeting shadow to move over his body.
He sat up in a flash, shock pulsing through his body—noticing that his creaky back and sour muscles were just as elastic and lively as they were in his youth. He looked at his hands as if to discover why he could move so easily and what he saw amazed him.
His hands weren't boney, his skin wasn't the pale flesh color that he had gotten used to, nor did his hands show any signs of swollen joints or prominent veins. He closed his hands and made a fist, feeling the effortless flexibility of his muscles, his grip was strong and sturdy like it once was.
Along with his body being able to bend and move with ease, Cloud noticed that his eyes weren't foggy like they used to be but instead, he could see crystal clear.
He stood and saw that he was in a field of rolling hills of yellow and white lilies. In the far off distance he saw a familiar place. A place that always gave him peace and happiness. It was a sacred place but above that, it was a place he loved. It was their secret place--their church.
He inched forward breathlessly; the lilies sinking around him seemed unfazed by his movement. Was this a dream? It had to be, Cloud thought. But this wasn't like his usual dreams—this one felt different but he didn't understand why.
He started his way towards the small building of his past as if being pulled by something. He walked through the sea of lilies for a few moments and finally arrived at the large wooden door. He touched it softly, letting his hand run over the designs carved into the door. He felt a yearning inside of him and hesitated a few times about opening the door—what if this woke him up?
He thought for a moment and came to a decision. Slowly, he pushed open the chapel doors, ready to face the outcome of whatever would happen next.
As the doors gave view down the aisle Cloud saw the figure of a woman in a floor length, white empire waist gown made of lace. She had her back turned and all Cloud could see of the woman was that she had long wavy brunette hair that cascaded down her back.
He felt the yearning sensation in his heart return and he suddenly knew exactly who the woman was. He slowly made his way to her and as if sensing him behind her she turned to face him, a warm and tender smile caressed her features as they locked eyes.
Even after all these years, he knew instantly who it was. He could never forget those eyes or that smile.
"Aerith," Cloud breathed gently in disbelief.
He had seen her plenty of times in his dreams--she always appeared in front of him how he remembered her but now, she looked different this time. She wasn't in her pink maxi dress or her red denim jacket—her ribbon was even gone.
Was this real? And if it was, how could it be?
Not caring how any of this was possible, Cloud pushed aside all thoughts and quickly inched forward and pulled her into an embrace, his arms encircling around her delicate form. He felt at peace here… and he felt even more at peace with her in his arms. He held her tighter than ever, holding her close to make sure she wouldn't be taken from him again.
Aerith buried her face in his shoulder, tears of joy streaming down her snowy cheeks as she held onto him, never wanting to let go.
"Is this… the promised land?" Cloud murmured, still holding her close.
She nodded against him and although she didn't utter a word, he knew her answer—and he couldn't hold back the smile that was spreading across his face. He pulled her closer and soaked up every second of the moment, taking the time to memorize every detail.
Cloud couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't a dream like all the rest... this was real. He knew what it meant to be in the Promised Land but, it didn't bother him at all. He felt sad when he thought about the people that he left behind but at the same time he knew that this wasn't in his control. When it was your time, it was your time.
And truth be told, he was happy that he could finally return to the planet and return to her after so many battles and so many years.
Every hero must have their end... and this was his.
Smiling, he pulled out of their embrace, leaving only a few inches between them, their arms still wrapped around one another. He looked into her evergreen eyes longingly, his steel blue eyes darting across her face as he breathed in this moment. Her coral pink lips were pulled into a soft smile as tears escaped her eyes and trickled down her face. Seeing the tears, Cloud moved his hand to wipe them away, his thumb caressing her cheek gently.
He didn't want her crying… not on a day as great as this. They were finally together in their promised land, what better ending could they have had than this?
"I'm home."
Aerith nodded at his murmur; assuring him that he really was finally home.
"Welcome home, Cloud."
Just as a gentle smile began to form on her face Cloud hesitantly inched his mouth closer to hers as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Their mouths were just a breath's distance away now, their lips just barely brushing against each other, making sure that this long awaited embrace wasn't going to wake him from this perfect ending. The anticipation of this moment was so overpowering to Cloud all he wanted was to just... kiss her. To finally taste the lips of the woman he had dreamnt of for years.
Smiling, he pulled her into a long over-do kiss, taking Aerith by surprise. Their mouths evenly moved with one another, gently caressing each other passionately. They kissed for what seemed like forever, locked in the warmth of their embrace, never wanting to let go.
After so many years of fighting for the planet and missing the one person he longed for more than anything… his journey had arrived at its ending. Their eternity together in a place of supreme happiness had finally begun... and Cloud Strife couldn't have been happier or more at peace than he was in this very moment.
The end.
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[A JOURNEY'S END]
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It was the afternoon of a warm August day for Cloud Strife—a once strong hero now nothing but an old man—his face was now carved with wrinkles, his hair was thinner but somehow the spikey form remained, the sandy blonde was now a dark grey, his muscles depleted, his bones achy, and his heart heavy. Despite him turning 82 today, his eyes still looked as vibrant as ever—the one thing that always looked so full of life.
Cloud was sitting at the end of his bed, his hands shaking as he held a picture frame in his lap. He hadn't seen this picture in ages it felt and as soon as his eyes fell on the precious image there was no stopping the smile that gently formed on his old features. He remembered everything about the story behind this picture—where it was, what happened, who he was with. It was easier to fight off tears when he was younger but now, as an old man—it seemed impossible. The memories overwhelmed him and he felt his eyes beginning to gloss over. Only a few tears managed to make it past the rim of his eyes before his attention was stolen by the sudden knock of a door.
The sound gave him quite a shock, hardly anyone visited him now and despite it being his birthday, he wasn't expecting anyone. Sighing, he slowly stood, making sure to not allow his wobbly legs to get the best of him. He made it down the hall and to the front door and right as he was about to turn the nob he realized he was still holding the picture frame. He quickly made his way to the small round table nearest the sofa and gingerly put down the memory. Before he could turn back to the door he heard another set of knocks.
"I'm coming!" he growled back, annoyance playing on his raspy voice. He opened the door; "what do you want—" but stopped immediately as he saw who was at his door.
"Cloud," the young man in his early sixties said, amazed.
"Denzel," was all the old warrior could say. He hadn't seen Denzel in a few years and here he was. As grumpy as Cloud was, this was a good surprise. Even though they weren't blood related, Denzel was someone Cloud saw as family—almost like a son. He quickly stepped aside, inviting him in.
"Denzel," Cloud surprisingly chuckled as the two stepped into the living room, waiting until they were both seated on the sofa before starting their conversation. Once seated, Denzel took the opening; "How are you?"
"I'm turning 82 today, how do you think?" Cloud tried to joke about his age but the saddened look in Denzel's eyes told him it wasn't as funny to him. He never was great at jokes, probably shouldn't start now. He cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the awkwardness.
"But what about you? How is everything? Marlene's alright?"
Denzel could hear that his voice was much quieter and much weaker than what it once was. He was so much weaker now… it was a shock to see someone who he considered a strong hero now just an old man. Shaking himself from the thought that was about to enter his mind he answered; "Yeah, yeah everything is great, Marlene's good too." Denzel added dejectedly.
Cloud's expression grew curious; "Then what brings you here?" his grey brow lifting in question.
"I just wanted to check on you, Cloud. You're up here alone all the time. You shouldn't be alone on your birthday, too."
Cloud just nodded, unsure how to object to it or if he even wanted to. It was strange. Cloud didn't seem to mind having a guest today.
The men looked to the floor as silence fell over them. Cloud was unsure if it was a good or bad silence. He could see in Denzel's blue eyes that he was worried about him. He sensed that Denzel felt pity and sadness towards him for being in the state he was. It was nice knowing someone cared but it bothered him more so than anything else. He hated worrying the ones closest to him, but it was that look of sympathy in his eyes that bothered him most. He knew in the back of Denzel's mind he was expecting a funeral for his old hero. Cloud had tried his damndest to avoid any elderly help Denzel and Marlene had tried to offer him over the last few years but when Denzel urged him to come live with him so he could help take care of him, it pushed Cloud over the edge and they stopped talking completely… until now.
Cloud rose, his bones creaky and popping as he came to his feet. He moved a few inches and stopped to face his guest.
"Do you want something to drink? I know it must have been a humid as hell out there."
Denzel's head snapped up at the raspy sound of his voice.
"Uh, sure. But let me get it for us, Cloud—" he only made it a few inches off of the couch before the demanding tone in Cloud's creaky voice stopped him.
"I can get us some drinks, I'm not gonna die from it."
Before he could object, Denzel followed Cloud's form with his eyes and watched him slowly walk into the small kitchen, noticing a weak limp in his right leg. Denzel rested his face in the palm of his hand and sighed sadly. No matter how much he tried not to, the thought of Cloud one day leaving this world plagued his mind. He couldn't understand why Cloud wouldn't just let him help out from time to time. There was nothing wrong with it so why was he so against it? He figured it was the hardened hero past that was to blame. He knew it must be hard going from protecting others to needing protecting.
Denzel heard some silverware clanking together followed by a few curse words from Cloud.
"You need some help?"
"I got it," Cloud answered back dryly in a raspy voice.
Denzel sighed again and looked to the coffee table; something on it caught his eye. It was an old picture frame with an image of a much younger Cloud… but with a woman Denzel hadn't ever seen before. He picked up the frame and examined it more closely.
Right away Denzel noticed how beautiful the woman was.
The woman was sitting on the ground of a flowery meadow, Cloud sitting by her side with his arms crossed, his elbows resting over the top of his knees. She had her hands outstretched towards a chocobo that looked to be eating some kind of food from her hands. It looked as though the photo was snapped during a fit of laughter because the girl had her eyes closed as she smiled uncontrollably. However, it wasn't the unknown woman that caught Denzel's attention most. It was the way Cloud looked next to her, it was the smile on his face that astonished him most. He had seen Cloud smile before, even laugh—but this was different. There was a look in Cloud's eyes that Denzel never saw before, a look that he never saw him give to anyone else.
Although his head wasn't turned directly towards the woman, Cloud's eyes were tenderly focused on her, an affectionate and soft smile on his features. It wasn't a large smile, it was much more composed and discreet then the wide grin on the woman's face, but somehow the way he was looking at her seemed to reflect more happiness and love than any smile Denzel ever saw from one person.
He looked at her as if she was the light of his world, someone to cherish more than anything else.
Denzel's eyes slowly darted across their faces, trying to decipher just what it all meant. He was about to call out to Cloud when he heard Cloud's feet shuffling into the living room.
Cloud sat the tray of their drinks down on the table and let out a weak chuckle; "I hope you don't mind drinking ice tea, it's all I hav—"
"Who is this?" Denzel interrupted abruptly.
Cloud brought his gaze to meet the object that Denzel held in his hands and his expression softened as he saw the picture in his hand. He hadn't intended for anyone to see it, let alone Denzel.
"Who's this woman?" Denzel asked once more, turning the picture to face Cloud.
Cloud slowly made his way to where Denzel was and gently took the picture from him. He didn't quite know what to say or do so he turned away and let his gaze fall upon the image. There was a very long pause and Denzel could sense that Cloud was lost in thought. He couldn't see Cloud's face but if he could, Denzel would have seen the ex-mercenary's steel blue eyes glazing over.
"Cloud—"
"Aerith."
He paused again for what seemed like even longer than before.
"Her name was Aerith." He said once more, his back still turned to Denzel.
"She was a woman I used to know when I was younger…"
Denzel noticed Cloud's voice trail off, his head bowed in silence. He looked like a husband mourning the loss of his wife. It was strange for Denzel and it was a little hard for him understand. The entire time Denzel knew Cloud, he knew Cloud wasn't one to put his problems or emotions out on show for everyone and yet, here Cloud was, putting on a display Denzel had never witnessed before. He knew she must have been someone important to him but, if she was, Denzel wondered why this was the first time he had ever heard of her.
Unknown to Denzel, Cloud avoided speaking of this woman simply because... it was just too hard to talk about. He couldn't handle it...
A few moments passed and the silence was too doleful for Denzel to endure so he spoke what was on his mind;
"Did you love her?"
It was a simple question yet it felt so invasive for him to ask the old hero, nonetheless Denzel had to know. Denzel didn't know how to take the silence that had fallen between the two, then suddenly, Cloud spoke.
"She was my best friend." His croaky voice paused momentarily then picked up again, "She saw things in me that no one else ever saw—things that I couldn't even see myself…." His words were slow and Denzel noticed his jaw movement was restricted from either the old joints or his attempt to fight back succumbing to the immense pain he was falling back into. There was a very long pause again before Cloud continued after clearing his cloggy throat.
"She made me a better man." His voice broke as he delivered the words and Denzel couldn't tell if it was from his aged vocal chords or just a sign that he was breaking down.
He took a few steps away from Denzel, his back still turned to the only son he ever knew. As unbelievable as it was, Denzel could sense that Cloud was on the brink of tears. Denzel stood to comfort his old hero but stopped at the sound of Cloud's voice that, despite the deep raspy tone of it, somehow reminded Denzel of a lost child, overwhelmed with loneliness and sadness and ready to finally just go home.
"I would have stayed by her side forever if only—"he paused once more to clear his thoughts, realizing that he was about to delve back into an old issue that he had long since forgiven himself for. No matter how many years had passed, he still felt regret over what had happened but he knew that she didn't blame him for it and that was a good enough reason to stop blaming himself. He wasn't quite sure what had pulled him to go into such detail about their relationship in the first place. It was sort of funny to him, he always heard how the older you get the more you ramble on, and now it seemed that it wasn't as false as he once believed it to be.
Denzel asked a simple question, so he should answer it simply.
With the picture still in hand he faced Denzel, briefly making eye contact before averting his gaze back to the woman in the picture. His wrinkled thumb gingerly brushed across the dust covered glass, his old mind yearning for it be her face that he was caressing and not just the faded image of a memory.
"Yes… I loved her." He trailed off again and turned his back to Denzel.
"More than anything, I loved her." His voice, although shaky with age and emotion, sounded ardent and beyond a doubt.
There was a long pause as Denzel straightened his thoughts. He had so much to ask him. Were they ever married? How long did she know him? What happened to her? And most importantly, why didn't he ever speak of her until now? He wanted to ask those questions so badly but then he realized. He didn't have to know anything more about this woman other than the fact that Cloud loved her. If he loved her this greatly then she must have been a very good person, that much Denzel was sure of.
"She was very pretty." Denzel said softly, hoping that his words could somehow console him.
For the first time in years, Denzel heard Cloud chuckle, "She was beyond beautiful." his laugh turning into a fit of coughs towards the end as he paused to think.
Cloud smiled back genuinely as he remembered the curve of her face, the round shape of evergreen eyes, and her sweet smile. It hurt him to think about her features that he loved so dearly, especially knowing that he would never see her eyes or see her smile ever again, but at the same time—speaking of her after all these years felt like a relief. It was nice having someone to talk to about this woman that he adored more than anything.
Denzel frowned as he saw the smile that was on Cloud's face had faded and his cheerful tone gone with it. He looked to the ground and thought for a moment before finalizing what he was thinking of. If it would make Cloud happy then that was a good enough reason to hear more about this woman.
"Tell me more about her, Cloud."
Cloud turned, his creaky bones popping as he whipped around to face him. Cloud's Mediterranean eyes looked at him with confusion, unsure if he really heard what Denzel had said.
As if reading his mind, Denzel spoke again; "I wanna know everything." A warm smile spread on his face as he waited for Cloud to reply to his request.
Cloud averted his now hazy gaze to the floor and cleared his throat, his upper lip stiffening as he spoke.
He tripped over his words, "I-I don't know where to start."
"Then just start at the first day you met." Denzel smiled back warmly.
Cloud hesitated for a moment, and looked around the room as he contemplated what to do. He opened his mouth to say no but he found himself wanting the complete opposite. He looked at the younger man and nodded, a weak smile playing on his old face.
He sat down on the couch beside Denzel and slowly began; "It was early December, I just got finished with my first mission working with Tifa and Barret and I was on my way back to Seventh Heaven when I first met her. She was selling flowers and I bought one from her…."
He carried on with his past, his voice was hesitant at times as he made sure he was getting the exact details right but for the most part he seemed comfortable with telling his memories.
Denzel continued to listen to Cloud recall every detail about his past with this woman and the journey they took to save the world with the others. And the more he heard the more amazed he was. As bizarre as it seemed, Cloud had managed to make himself sound even cooler and more heroic than ever before, even at his age of 82. But he was both intrigued and saddened by Cloud's past. He heard of the times Cloud faced most danger, like when he gallantly snuck into Shinra Headquarters to save her or when he fought Sephiroth alone. But the thing that shocked Denzel most about Cloud's past was hearing about his memories with the sole cetra. The more he heard about him and this woman the more Denzel knew just how much Cloud loved her. He felt sad that Cloud had to spend his life alone and without the one he loved.
Without even realizing it, minutes turned to hours and the sun was slowly inching behind the horizon, the velvety night sky treading closely behind it. Cloud had told his story, every inch of it—good and bad, happy and sad. Although at times it was hard to continue speaking about her, he was happy that the person Cloud felt Aerith brought to him finally knew of the woman that saved him in more ways than one--her.
It was now dark and Denzel had been gone for a few hours, Cloud was already tucked away in his bed for one. The old hero was a little surprised at how much he enjoyed this birthday. He didn't get any gifts or even cake (nor did he want either) but being able to talk of his past was uplifting. And before long, Cloud had drifted off into sleep. He dreamnt of the things that he always did—a time when he was younger, the previous battles he faced, but more often than those he dreamnt of being with her. It was the same every day. He would fall asleep in one reality and wake in another—only to have it torn away from him.
And before long, Cloud awoke from his sleep, the sun that was brightly shining down at him being the culprit of his sudden awakening. As he shuffled from his side to his back he growled under his breath, annoyed that the curtains weren't keeping the sun from disturbing him. As he settled on his back he took a deep breath and smelled a faint fragrance that he hadn't experienced in years. It was a delicate and graceful smell—one that always soothed and gave Cloud a sense of peace. He loved that smell and he could never forget it.
"Lilies." He thought.
A drowsy and soft smile played on his lips as he drew in the dainty fragrance. As much as he adored that smell he wondered how the smell was in his old, dusty room and when he opened his eyes his breath was stolen by what he saw. He didn't see the faded and peeling paint of his bedroom roof but instead opened his eyes to see a deep blue sky and large clouds passing over him, casting a large fleeting shadow to move over his body.
He sat up in a flash, shock pulsing through his body—noticing that his creaky back and sour muscles were just as elastic and lively as they were in his youth. He looked at his hands as if to discover why he could move so easily and what he saw amazed him.
His hands weren't boney, his skin wasn't the pale flesh color that he had gotten used to, nor did his hands show any signs of swollen joints or prominent veins. He closed his hands and made a fist, feeling the effortless flexibility of his muscles, his grip was strong and sturdy like it once was.
Along with his body being able to bend and move with ease, Cloud noticed that his eyes weren't foggy like they used to be but instead, he could see crystal clear.
He stood and saw that he was in a field of rolling hills of yellow and white lilies. In the far off distance he saw a familiar place. A place that always gave him peace and happiness. It was a sacred place but above that, it was a place he loved. It was their secret place--their church.
He inched forward breathlessly; the lilies sinking around him seemed unfazed by his movement. Was this a dream? It had to be, Cloud thought. But this wasn't like his usual dreams—this one felt different but he didn't understand why.
He started his way towards the small building of his past as if being pulled by something. He walked through the sea of lilies for a few moments and finally arrived at the large wooden door. He touched it softly, letting his hand run over the designs carved into the door. He felt a yearning inside of him and hesitated a few times about opening the door—what if this woke him up?
He thought for a moment and came to a decision. Slowly, he pushed open the chapel doors, ready to face the outcome of whatever would happen next.
As the doors gave view down the aisle Cloud saw the figure of a woman in a floor length, white empire waist gown made of lace. She had her back turned and all Cloud could see of the woman was that she had long wavy brunette hair that cascaded down her back.
He felt the yearning sensation in his heart return and he suddenly knew exactly who the woman was. He slowly made his way to her and as if sensing him behind her she turned to face him, a warm and tender smile caressed her features as they locked eyes.
Even after all these years, he knew instantly who it was. He could never forget those eyes or that smile.
"Aerith," Cloud breathed gently in disbelief.
He had seen her plenty of times in his dreams--she always appeared in front of him how he remembered her but now, she looked different this time. She wasn't in her pink maxi dress or her red denim jacket—her ribbon was even gone.
Was this real? And if it was, how could it be?
Not caring how any of this was possible, Cloud pushed aside all thoughts and quickly inched forward and pulled her into an embrace, his arms encircling around her delicate form. He felt at peace here… and he felt even more at peace with her in his arms. He held her tighter than ever, holding her close to make sure she wouldn't be taken from him again.
Aerith buried her face in his shoulder, tears of joy streaming down her snowy cheeks as she held onto him, never wanting to let go.
"Is this… the promised land?" Cloud murmured, still holding her close.
She nodded against him and although she didn't utter a word, he knew her answer—and he couldn't hold back the smile that was spreading across his face. He pulled her closer and soaked up every second of the moment, taking the time to memorize every detail.
Cloud couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't a dream like all the rest... this was real. He knew what it meant to be in the Promised Land but, it didn't bother him at all. He felt sad when he thought about the people that he left behind but at the same time he knew that this wasn't in his control. When it was your time, it was your time.
And truth be told, he was happy that he could finally return to the planet and return to her after so many battles and so many years.
Every hero must have their end... and this was his.
Smiling, he pulled out of their embrace, leaving only a few inches between them, their arms still wrapped around one another. He looked into her evergreen eyes longingly, his steel blue eyes darting across her face as he breathed in this moment. Her coral pink lips were pulled into a soft smile as tears escaped her eyes and trickled down her face. Seeing the tears, Cloud moved his hand to wipe them away, his thumb caressing her cheek gently.
He didn't want her crying… not on a day as great as this. They were finally together in their promised land, what better ending could they have had than this?
"I'm home."
Aerith nodded at his murmur; assuring him that he really was finally home.
"Welcome home, Cloud."
Just as a gentle smile began to form on her face Cloud hesitantly inched his mouth closer to hers as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Their mouths were just a breath's distance away now, their lips just barely brushing against each other, making sure that this long awaited embrace wasn't going to wake him from this perfect ending. The anticipation of this moment was so overpowering to Cloud all he wanted was to just... kiss her. To finally taste the lips of the woman he had dreamnt of for years.
Smiling, he pulled her into a long over-do kiss, taking Aerith by surprise. Their mouths evenly moved with one another, gently caressing each other passionately. They kissed for what seemed like forever, locked in the warmth of their embrace, never wanting to let go.
After so many years of fighting for the planet and missing the one person he longed for more than anything… his journey had arrived at its ending. Their eternity together in a place of supreme happiness had finally begun... and Cloud Strife couldn't have been happier or more at peace than he was in this very moment.
The end.
____________________________
Entry 2:
The Worst Day
Some days are just shit, you know that? Some days it isn't even worth kicking ass and taking names and feeling awesome for a few minutes, because when the fun is done, you're covered in blood and grime and filth, roaring hungry and aching all over. Some days, you just know you should've stayed in bed and told the world to get bent.
Unfortunately for Cloud, he couldn't stay in bed. His mercenary job was a huge cash-in, despite the small fare he was currently getting, and for once they were finally getting to breath a little easier about the checkbooks. It looked like that big date he had secretly planned for him and Tifa would happen sooner than he expected. And even though the merc job was incredibly more satisfying than being a delivery boy, it certainly left a much bigger mess to clean up.
Cloud was having an overall miserable day. Fenrir had broken down a few miles out of Edge and he had to walk it back. It didn't help his disposition that some stupid hippies in a rainbow van had splashed him with mud from the only puddle within miles. Assholes.
Seriously, who in their right mind drives a rainbow van? That takes a dedicated, special kind of crazy to do that. As crazy people go, he'd probably have to be the most exotic case the world had ever known. He knew crazy, inside out, up, down, and backwards. But you don't see him riding around in a rainbow van wearing shamrock sunglasses, now do you?
Punks.
Some days, on the other hand, were just awesome and he felt like this was what he'd truly meant to be -- a stylin' badass. Yuffie came up with that one; she says a lot of crazy stuff, but he kinda liked that one. Anyway, there are other days that are just not worth it. Like today. It started with a bad morning, continued with a bad noon, and he was grimly expecting a bad evening as well when he finally walked up to the bar with Fenrir.
Aching all over, stomach growling audibly, he didn't walk into the bar. He more like slumped into the bar, if you can imagine that as an action of locomotion. Maybe that word can't even be used that way.
Aw screw it, he was having a bad freaking day, he'd use whatever damn word he damn well pleased.
Piss off, mental grammar Nazi.
He rubbed his right shoulder, wincing, as he entered the bar through the back door. Only a light streaming beneath the doors to the dining area told him someone was awake. Everything was shut down for the night, even though the sun had set a few hours ago -- at least he got back home at decent hours now, which meant more time with his light.... Tifa.....
He paused in the dim kitchen, allowing himself a moment of pure pleasure just thinking of Tifa. Yes, more time with Tifa was a definite fringe benefit and it really did outweigh the universal aches and filth that covered him. They'd started talking about sharing a room, much to his delight.
Cloud sighed. She wasn't likely to share a room with him tonight however, not with him exhausted and aching and in a dour mood. Maybe he could get a good long kiss out of her tonight. And a hug. A long, comforting, warm Tifahug, like only she can give.
It bore quite a bit of happy contemplation.
With that happy thought to buoy him, he walked into the bar room proper.... well, almost walked in. He was so tired, almost dead on his feet, that he didn't watch where he was going. His shoulder made solid contact with the door frame.
WHAM!
Oh fuck, oh shit, oh doom on dipstick.
Tears sprang to his eyes and he lightly touched trembling fingers to the already injured shoulder which shrieked in pain. Waves of agony radiated through him, all coming from that damn shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying, it hurt that much. He'd forgotten about the gash he'd gained there on this last job and O Sweet Lifestream did it effing hurt.
Gasping in pain, he stumbled through the door and leaned against the bar. It was all he could do to not drop to that wonderfully cozy looking wood floor and start writhing in pain. He'd never actually writhed before, but he thought he'd be rather good at it and he was sorely tempted to have a go now.
Oh come on, why did it have to hurt that long? He didn't slam it that hard. A glance at the door revealed to him a piece of trim that had snapped off and was lying amongst splinters on the floor.
Okay.... maybe he had hit it a little hard....
Oh someone please, make it stop. That floor was looking really good right now. Writhing was imminent.
"Cloud?"
Angels' voices really do sound like silver bells. Wonder how he knows that? Because he lives with one. Her name is Tifa. He always called her the angel in his heaven, making a rather lame pun on the name of the bar, but she liked it. She always forgave him for the little stupid things he did like making puns and putting the toilet paper roll in the holder backwards. It was proof that she had an angelic lineage.
And now she was coming to save him. Oh thank all that's sweet and holy and wonderful. Tifa, please make the pain stop.
"Tifa..." He gritted his teeth on the plea. Did he dislocate his shoulder? Ow!
Light fingers touched his shoulder and he flinched away, hissing in his breath. That action hurt more than the contact and he immediately regretted it.
"Ohmygawd, Cloud what happened?" Her voice started to tremble. "Is that blood?"
What? Oh no.
The wound had reopened. He was trying to get some cure materia to grow -- know how much a mastered cure materia sells for on the market? Hint, it starts with an 'm' -- and as a result the cure materia he had was too low-powered to fully seal the wound. The last thing he wanted was to get Tifa worried about him. It was really just a long, shallow cut, but it bled a lot and that always made it seem worse than it really was. Now she'd be insufferably fussy for a week and pester him about being careful on jobs.
Shit. Damn it all. This day was just getting worse and worse.
Cloud just moaned in pain and Tifa brought his forehead to rest on her shoulder. That small action really did help. It's amazing what contact with your loved one can do. Tifa would make him better. She always does, right when he really needed it.
"Your shoulder is dislocated," Tifa said softly. She ran her fingers through his grimy hair and oh sweet stars, that felt good. It really, really did.
"Hunh. Damn door.... jumped me..." he muttered between pained gasps. "Not because... of job. That damn door!" He wanted to make it very clear that he'd walked into this building in much better condition that he had walked into this room. The shoulder was caused by demonic architecture, not because of the job.
"Cloud...." She sounded uncertain, like he wasn't making any sense. Which he probably wasn't. He just groaned again.
"Cure... mine is too low level." A pause. "Hurts." Tifa always kept a mastered cure materia on her. He'd seen it, glowing beneath her skin, just as the small of her back.
"I have to put your shoulder back in before I can, okay?"
Oh no. No no no no no, please don't do that, please, just be an angel. Make the pain stop. But it was never that simple. He was Cloud Strife and he had the worst luck ever. So he sighed. "Make it qui--"
CRACK!
Oh fuck, oh shit, oh doom on dipstick.
Yup, it's writhing time, folks! Here goes Cloud, hero of the Jenova War, tipping over to writhe like a sobbing little child on the cold wooden floor of a bar that's harboring only Ancients-know-what kinds of dirt and germs. Watch as he cries like a little bitch, before the stunned eyes of the woman he loves and the children that regarded him as The Hero. Witness as he loses all rights to his man-card, and this time he won't get it back, despite the fact no dresses were involved!
Except.... he wasn't writhing on the floor. He had his head pressed to Tifa's shoulder, eyes glazed over with remnants of pain as Tifa cast the most powerful cure spell on him. Sweet, wonderful, holy warmth swept through his body. He could feel it washing through him, chasing the pain away. He buried his face in her sternum (that's the area just below the throat, you sickos, yeah yeah, I know what you were thinking) and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, relishing in Tifa's divine scent. She smells like lavender and jasmine. That is a cocktail only angels can have. He could stay like this forever, no pain, leaning against Tifa, awash in her scent. This right here, this was happiness.
"Is Cloud okay?"
Okay, now let's take a little side-track here. Cloud liked kids -- really, he did. But sometimes he felt like he was really getting the short end of the stick. Amazing, right? Since when did he ever get anything but the short end of the damn stick that was probably used to beat fuzzy mewling kittens?
Anyway, he and Tifa were a couple, no questions there. But their relationship had gone into a very long, awkward phase of... well, why be subtle about it... a phase of extreme unresolved sexual tension for a while because of two little inhabitants known as Marlene and Denzel.
And while Cloud considered the kids family and he loved them in his own way, sometimes it just wasn't effing fair. He wasn't even married to the girl of his dreams and they had to duck and dodge and forego moments of bliss -- not necessarily intimacy, just bliss, like now, resting against Tifa -- because of those kids. They hadn't even started thinking about a family yet and here was the problem and obstacle of children, already handed to him before he could make his own. He felt like he was being seriously cheated out of a special phase in his life -- the kind most people term the 'honeymoon' phase and is apparently supposed to be rather wonderful.
He wouldn't really know, however. It'd been stolen from him without him having a say in the matter.
And now, because Marlene and Denzel were apparently sitting in the dining area, he wouldn't be able to enjoy this moment of comfort, which he really needed, because of they had a policy of not being too intimate in front of the kids.
Tifa giving him what appeared to be a booby hug would definitely fall under that category. She was going to leave and he couldn't have that, not yet. He needed this so badly. Silently, barely moving his good arm so the kids wouldn't see, he gently touched her waist with his hand, begging her not to go. Tifa hesitated for a moment longer then pushed away.
He dragged his head up, which felt like lead, to look at her. If she saw the weariness in his eyes, maybe she'd have some pity on him. Ever since he discovered that pity usually manifested in cuddling, kissing, special meals, and extra attention in general, he loved pity!
In fact, it may have worked. He must really look beat because she bit her lip and glanced at the kids. Then she said, "Yeah, he's fine, just really tired. Right Cloud?"
Sigh. "Right."
Tifa leaned in and gave him a kiss -- on the cheek. Great. No hug and now a kiss on the cheek. Well that's just peachy.
This day totally blows. If the bar goes up in flames next, he wouldn't be surprised. Hell, he might even throw himself in. Couldn't be much worse than being banged up all day, starved, splashed in mud by crazy neon hippies, walking miles in the wind, being attacked by evil doorframes and then being spurned by his love because of a couple of kids that weren't even his. And who were robbing him of his honeymoon phase with Tifa.
...Okay, that last bit was probably unfair to the kids, but he was having a really bad day. Dig it? Like, this day, on the list of worst days in his life, was really sprinting for the top. With vigor.
Tifa smiled -- always a lovely sight -- and cupped his weary face with one hand for a moment. "We ate a little while ago. Why don't you get a shower while I heat it up?"
"Okay. Thanks, Teef."
Wearily, with many false starts, he pushed off the bar and made slow, inching progress up the stairs. The kids were talking and Tifa answered in her sweet, angel-silver voice but he didn't really hear what they were saying. Too. Tired. Brain not. Compu. Ting.
The shower did revitalize him a bit. It's amazing what soaking in warm water can do for a man. There's always that indescribably unburdened feeling after stepping out of the shower, as though he'd washed off a ton of dirt and filth. It was a wonderful feeling -- even better than that clean-sheet feeling after washing the bed linens. However, it didn't help that he remembered the last time he took a shower, Tifa had been with him. And that just poked a stick right in the sore spot of her refusing to comfort him because the kids were there.
Had he been running on a few more hours of sleep, had he not just come inches away from twisting on the floor in agony, he would have realized how ridiculous that was. However, he wasn't, and he almost did, and her refusal was a sore issue with him now.
After washing and dressing in some comfortable, clean clothes, he went downstairs and found his dinner already waiting for him, on the bar.
It's said that gods eat ambrosia. He had no idea what ambrosia is, but it can't be better than this. He thanked Tifa once again and started in on his late meal. Mmmm. Divine.
As he ate, he watched Tifa and the kids, semi-curious. She was helping them study for a quiz, using flash cards. She'd hold up a card, wait for them to identify what was on it and ask a few questions before moving onto the next card. It took him a while to figure out what the quiz was about.
Meteorology. Weather. Wind patters, cloud formations, all that shtick. He only realized it when he started getting irritated because he thought they were using his name every other sentence. Couldn't they at least wait until he'd passed out in bed to start talking about him? After a moment of obvious eavesdropping, it surprised him to discover they actually weren't talking about him.
Marlene's little face was a picture of concentration as she tried to identify the object on the card.
"Come on, Marlene," Tifa said gently. "You know this. What kind of cloud is this?"
"Cu... cumulus?"
"Excellent!" A new card comes up. "How about this cloud."
"Cirrus."
Tifa's eyebrows raised a little. Marlene pinched her face in concentration once again.
"Stratus cloud!" Denzel cried.
Okay, first off, Cloud didn't know why he got this shit name. Yes, you heard right -- shit name. It sounded girly, for one. Clouds were soft and white and puffy and very pretty and occasionally spawned murderous tornadoes.
How does that not describe girls? While all the other kids were being named John and Mark and... heh heh.... Vincent, he got -- Cloud. All the other names were taken up so he got the most boring weather phenomena for his moniker. Seriously. Weather. Who the hell resorts to watching the weather channel for naming your kid?
His mother apparently. Instead of getting a solid masculine name, he got something that stuck out just as much as his hair did.
Thanks mom.
Secondly, his name created awkward moments such as this. Since it is really one of the most common and boring of weather phenomena, clouds will just come up in conversation and that's always awkward when a person with that name is standing right there.
The other day, Yuffie had been trying to describe to Tifa this beautiful sunset she'd seen in Wutai. She rhapsodized about the lacy clouds that were gold and pink and how this one cloud looked so pretty, just blocking out the sun...
Then her little beady-evil-ferret-ninja eyes had alighted upon the poor blond just as he descended the stairs and she started rhapsodizing about how beautiful he was.... particularly in a dress. With a tiara.
Oh yeah. He was going to pay her back for that one, but good.
And it goes without saying he absolutely detested watching the morning news. You have any idea how strange it feels, hearing your name come out of a wrinkly dude's mouth twenty times in five seconds, every morning? Creepy. That's how it feels.
Anyways, it dawned on the other three as well that they were now saying his name, instead of naming a weather occurrence. There's no real point at which they stopped saying 'cloud' and started saying 'Cloud' but they all subliminally knew it and the awkward tension in the air was razor sharp.
Tifa turned to him and he gazed back, perfectly deadpan. "Do you want to eat in your room?" she asked.
Oh, don't even try. She denied him some comfort when he needed it most. He knew what she was doing and he wasn't going to go along with it. Payback.
"Nope," he said.
She gritted her teeth slightly. "Do you have to eat at the bar?" Was that desperation he heard in her voice? Ha! Writhe! Just like he'd been about to writhe on the floor at her feet! Because she wouldn't give him a hug. A Tifahug.
Crap, even his conscience sounded petulant.
"Yup," he said.
She narrowed her eyes dangerously and turned back to the kids. "Okay, what Cloud is this, Marlene?"
He saw her flinch and couldn't help but smirk. There it was again, his name, not the weather. It was really starting to annoy them. He was too tired to be annoyed. Say my name baby, say my name. So much for keeping any 'intimacy' from showing around the kids, eh, Teefs? Ha!
He turned back to his food to hide his evil smirk.
"Cirrus Cloud." Even Marlene winces a bit.
"Good... good. And how does it form?"
Marlene closed her eyes and after a moment started speaking. She sounded like she was reciting from a textbook. "Cirrus Cl-clouds are composed of ice crystals high in the stratosphere."
"Right! And what kind of Cloud is opposite that?" Flinch.
A squint, a bite of the lip. "A stratus Cloud, because they form really low."
Okay, scratch that last part. It was starting to annoy him now.
"Cumulonimbus is my favorite Cloud," Denzel said proudly. He didn't even flinch when he said it -- kid was slow on the uptake. "It's awesome looking."
"I like Cirrus Clouds," Marlene said. "They're so wispy and delicate looking. Pretty."
Oh yeah, wispy and delicate. Pretty! Exactly the kind of description he wanted attached to his name. He rapidly finished his meal. He had to get out -- now. He really regretted staying now. His stupid little attempt of retribution at Tifa had totally backfired.
This day was going from shit, to shit-storm. And no, that wasn't a pun on Denzel's 'awesome' cumulonimbus Clou-- er, clouds. Dammit, now he was starting to do it too! Gah!
Just... chug the orange juice Tifa poured him and go. Run. Get to bed and pass out and forget this ever happened. And when morning comes, tell the world to get bent and don't get up. Ever. Again.
"Cirrus Clouds are girly," Denzel scoffed.
Why, Denzel?
Why.
That was a seriously low blow. You're supposed to back a dude up, not hit below the belt. Cloud reminded himself to have a talk with that boy.
A muffled sound came from Tifa but he dare not glance back at them. Just run, Strife. RUN!
....Dang it, this glass wasn't this big last time he remembered drinking from it. He had to stop and gasp for breath.
"They are not girly Clouds! They're pretty!"
"Girly. Clouds," Denzel said.
Stop saying it, dammit! Oh, he'd remember this indignity. Denzel wouldn't be wheedling anything out of him for months, at the very least.
"Teeeefaaaaa!" Marlene whined. Like all kids do, they turned to the parent for the tie-breaker.
Thank all that's holy. He finally managed to drain the glass. He never wanted to see orange juice again so long as he lived.
"Sorry you two, I can't help you out." Tifa sounded too damn smug. Now he was never going to get that hug.
"But whyyyy?"
He slid off the stool and started making a hasty retreat for the stairs. If he stayed any longer, this was just going to get worse. Okay? Worse. As in worse than the day Nibelheim was destroyed.
Well, okay. Maybe not that bad, but pretty damn close.
Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder -- his good one, since the other was still sore -- halted his retreat in midstep. His balance was upset and to stop from falling, he stumbled into the bar. The edge of the bartop dug into his back. Oh please, please, just let me escape, let me get out of here with some digni--
All thoughts cut off as Tifa gave him a long, deep, hot kiss that was definitely not G-rated.
Oh. Oh wow. Oh that was good. That was really, really good. He needed that. The kiss kept going on and on and on and he felt himself slowly sliding into blissful oblivion, sweetly ignorant of the kids squeakings and gasps. He wondered for a moment if Tifa had planned this -- timing his dinner with the kids' studying, knowing he'd be miserable when he came home.
But really, planned or not, he didn't care. It was glorious.
When they finally broke apart, Tifa just smiled up at him, her eyes flashing mischievously. "Because this," and she winked at him, "is my favorite Cloud."
The kids snorted and gagged at the ridiculous pun but it made him grin. Only Tifa, only his angel could make a stupid, awkward, girly name sound like something amazing. Something about how she said it, how she lingered on the name, made him want to strut. She was amazing.
And she wasn't done yet, since she kissed him again, same as last time but even better, if that was possible. Two kisses! Two awesome kisses from excruciatingly beautiful, wonderful Tifa, in front of the kids, when he really needed it. Not only that, but she had also preserved his masculinity and saved face for him all in one go. And that isn't even touching on how wonderful her mouth feels, how incredible she tastes and how it's even better since the kids are sitting right there, like stealing a kiss in church. He loved her madly.
She said he was her favorite. He felt a little proud of that.
After she finally parted from him and winked, giving him that look that said she'd be cuddling with him tonight after all, he climbed the stairs with a daffy grin on his face. The kids laughter followed him up and he collapsed on the bed, sinking into the wonderfully soft sheets. He was still smiling.
Later, when Tifa slipped into bed with him and covered his face with kisses, he knew this was without a doubt one of the best moments in his life. Falling asleep with a warm and cozy and jasmine-lavender scented Tifa snuggling up to him was one of the few pleasures in his life that he would never tire of. He fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.
Overall?
A pretty good day.
Some days are just shit, you know that? Some days it isn't even worth kicking ass and taking names and feeling awesome for a few minutes, because when the fun is done, you're covered in blood and grime and filth, roaring hungry and aching all over. Some days, you just know you should've stayed in bed and told the world to get bent.
Unfortunately for Cloud, he couldn't stay in bed. His mercenary job was a huge cash-in, despite the small fare he was currently getting, and for once they were finally getting to breath a little easier about the checkbooks. It looked like that big date he had secretly planned for him and Tifa would happen sooner than he expected. And even though the merc job was incredibly more satisfying than being a delivery boy, it certainly left a much bigger mess to clean up.
Cloud was having an overall miserable day. Fenrir had broken down a few miles out of Edge and he had to walk it back. It didn't help his disposition that some stupid hippies in a rainbow van had splashed him with mud from the only puddle within miles. Assholes.
Seriously, who in their right mind drives a rainbow van? That takes a dedicated, special kind of crazy to do that. As crazy people go, he'd probably have to be the most exotic case the world had ever known. He knew crazy, inside out, up, down, and backwards. But you don't see him riding around in a rainbow van wearing shamrock sunglasses, now do you?
Punks.
Some days, on the other hand, were just awesome and he felt like this was what he'd truly meant to be -- a stylin' badass. Yuffie came up with that one; she says a lot of crazy stuff, but he kinda liked that one. Anyway, there are other days that are just not worth it. Like today. It started with a bad morning, continued with a bad noon, and he was grimly expecting a bad evening as well when he finally walked up to the bar with Fenrir.
Aching all over, stomach growling audibly, he didn't walk into the bar. He more like slumped into the bar, if you can imagine that as an action of locomotion. Maybe that word can't even be used that way.
Aw screw it, he was having a bad freaking day, he'd use whatever damn word he damn well pleased.
Piss off, mental grammar Nazi.
He rubbed his right shoulder, wincing, as he entered the bar through the back door. Only a light streaming beneath the doors to the dining area told him someone was awake. Everything was shut down for the night, even though the sun had set a few hours ago -- at least he got back home at decent hours now, which meant more time with his light.... Tifa.....
He paused in the dim kitchen, allowing himself a moment of pure pleasure just thinking of Tifa. Yes, more time with Tifa was a definite fringe benefit and it really did outweigh the universal aches and filth that covered him. They'd started talking about sharing a room, much to his delight.
Cloud sighed. She wasn't likely to share a room with him tonight however, not with him exhausted and aching and in a dour mood. Maybe he could get a good long kiss out of her tonight. And a hug. A long, comforting, warm Tifahug, like only she can give.
It bore quite a bit of happy contemplation.
With that happy thought to buoy him, he walked into the bar room proper.... well, almost walked in. He was so tired, almost dead on his feet, that he didn't watch where he was going. His shoulder made solid contact with the door frame.
WHAM!
Oh fuck, oh shit, oh doom on dipstick.
Tears sprang to his eyes and he lightly touched trembling fingers to the already injured shoulder which shrieked in pain. Waves of agony radiated through him, all coming from that damn shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying, it hurt that much. He'd forgotten about the gash he'd gained there on this last job and O Sweet Lifestream did it effing hurt.
Gasping in pain, he stumbled through the door and leaned against the bar. It was all he could do to not drop to that wonderfully cozy looking wood floor and start writhing in pain. He'd never actually writhed before, but he thought he'd be rather good at it and he was sorely tempted to have a go now.
Oh come on, why did it have to hurt that long? He didn't slam it that hard. A glance at the door revealed to him a piece of trim that had snapped off and was lying amongst splinters on the floor.
Okay.... maybe he had hit it a little hard....
Oh someone please, make it stop. That floor was looking really good right now. Writhing was imminent.
"Cloud?"
Angels' voices really do sound like silver bells. Wonder how he knows that? Because he lives with one. Her name is Tifa. He always called her the angel in his heaven, making a rather lame pun on the name of the bar, but she liked it. She always forgave him for the little stupid things he did like making puns and putting the toilet paper roll in the holder backwards. It was proof that she had an angelic lineage.
And now she was coming to save him. Oh thank all that's sweet and holy and wonderful. Tifa, please make the pain stop.
"Tifa..." He gritted his teeth on the plea. Did he dislocate his shoulder? Ow!
Light fingers touched his shoulder and he flinched away, hissing in his breath. That action hurt more than the contact and he immediately regretted it.
"Ohmygawd, Cloud what happened?" Her voice started to tremble. "Is that blood?"
What? Oh no.
The wound had reopened. He was trying to get some cure materia to grow -- know how much a mastered cure materia sells for on the market? Hint, it starts with an 'm' -- and as a result the cure materia he had was too low-powered to fully seal the wound. The last thing he wanted was to get Tifa worried about him. It was really just a long, shallow cut, but it bled a lot and that always made it seem worse than it really was. Now she'd be insufferably fussy for a week and pester him about being careful on jobs.
Shit. Damn it all. This day was just getting worse and worse.
Cloud just moaned in pain and Tifa brought his forehead to rest on her shoulder. That small action really did help. It's amazing what contact with your loved one can do. Tifa would make him better. She always does, right when he really needed it.
"Your shoulder is dislocated," Tifa said softly. She ran her fingers through his grimy hair and oh sweet stars, that felt good. It really, really did.
"Hunh. Damn door.... jumped me..." he muttered between pained gasps. "Not because... of job. That damn door!" He wanted to make it very clear that he'd walked into this building in much better condition that he had walked into this room. The shoulder was caused by demonic architecture, not because of the job.
"Cloud...." She sounded uncertain, like he wasn't making any sense. Which he probably wasn't. He just groaned again.
"Cure... mine is too low level." A pause. "Hurts." Tifa always kept a mastered cure materia on her. He'd seen it, glowing beneath her skin, just as the small of her back.
"I have to put your shoulder back in before I can, okay?"
Oh no. No no no no no, please don't do that, please, just be an angel. Make the pain stop. But it was never that simple. He was Cloud Strife and he had the worst luck ever. So he sighed. "Make it qui--"
CRACK!
Oh fuck, oh shit, oh doom on dipstick.
Yup, it's writhing time, folks! Here goes Cloud, hero of the Jenova War, tipping over to writhe like a sobbing little child on the cold wooden floor of a bar that's harboring only Ancients-know-what kinds of dirt and germs. Watch as he cries like a little bitch, before the stunned eyes of the woman he loves and the children that regarded him as The Hero. Witness as he loses all rights to his man-card, and this time he won't get it back, despite the fact no dresses were involved!
Except.... he wasn't writhing on the floor. He had his head pressed to Tifa's shoulder, eyes glazed over with remnants of pain as Tifa cast the most powerful cure spell on him. Sweet, wonderful, holy warmth swept through his body. He could feel it washing through him, chasing the pain away. He buried his face in her sternum (that's the area just below the throat, you sickos, yeah yeah, I know what you were thinking) and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, relishing in Tifa's divine scent. She smells like lavender and jasmine. That is a cocktail only angels can have. He could stay like this forever, no pain, leaning against Tifa, awash in her scent. This right here, this was happiness.
"Is Cloud okay?"
Okay, now let's take a little side-track here. Cloud liked kids -- really, he did. But sometimes he felt like he was really getting the short end of the stick. Amazing, right? Since when did he ever get anything but the short end of the damn stick that was probably used to beat fuzzy mewling kittens?
Anyway, he and Tifa were a couple, no questions there. But their relationship had gone into a very long, awkward phase of... well, why be subtle about it... a phase of extreme unresolved sexual tension for a while because of two little inhabitants known as Marlene and Denzel.
And while Cloud considered the kids family and he loved them in his own way, sometimes it just wasn't effing fair. He wasn't even married to the girl of his dreams and they had to duck and dodge and forego moments of bliss -- not necessarily intimacy, just bliss, like now, resting against Tifa -- because of those kids. They hadn't even started thinking about a family yet and here was the problem and obstacle of children, already handed to him before he could make his own. He felt like he was being seriously cheated out of a special phase in his life -- the kind most people term the 'honeymoon' phase and is apparently supposed to be rather wonderful.
He wouldn't really know, however. It'd been stolen from him without him having a say in the matter.
And now, because Marlene and Denzel were apparently sitting in the dining area, he wouldn't be able to enjoy this moment of comfort, which he really needed, because of they had a policy of not being too intimate in front of the kids.
Tifa giving him what appeared to be a booby hug would definitely fall under that category. She was going to leave and he couldn't have that, not yet. He needed this so badly. Silently, barely moving his good arm so the kids wouldn't see, he gently touched her waist with his hand, begging her not to go. Tifa hesitated for a moment longer then pushed away.
He dragged his head up, which felt like lead, to look at her. If she saw the weariness in his eyes, maybe she'd have some pity on him. Ever since he discovered that pity usually manifested in cuddling, kissing, special meals, and extra attention in general, he loved pity!
In fact, it may have worked. He must really look beat because she bit her lip and glanced at the kids. Then she said, "Yeah, he's fine, just really tired. Right Cloud?"
Sigh. "Right."
Tifa leaned in and gave him a kiss -- on the cheek. Great. No hug and now a kiss on the cheek. Well that's just peachy.
This day totally blows. If the bar goes up in flames next, he wouldn't be surprised. Hell, he might even throw himself in. Couldn't be much worse than being banged up all day, starved, splashed in mud by crazy neon hippies, walking miles in the wind, being attacked by evil doorframes and then being spurned by his love because of a couple of kids that weren't even his. And who were robbing him of his honeymoon phase with Tifa.
...Okay, that last bit was probably unfair to the kids, but he was having a really bad day. Dig it? Like, this day, on the list of worst days in his life, was really sprinting for the top. With vigor.
Tifa smiled -- always a lovely sight -- and cupped his weary face with one hand for a moment. "We ate a little while ago. Why don't you get a shower while I heat it up?"
"Okay. Thanks, Teef."
Wearily, with many false starts, he pushed off the bar and made slow, inching progress up the stairs. The kids were talking and Tifa answered in her sweet, angel-silver voice but he didn't really hear what they were saying. Too. Tired. Brain not. Compu. Ting.
The shower did revitalize him a bit. It's amazing what soaking in warm water can do for a man. There's always that indescribably unburdened feeling after stepping out of the shower, as though he'd washed off a ton of dirt and filth. It was a wonderful feeling -- even better than that clean-sheet feeling after washing the bed linens. However, it didn't help that he remembered the last time he took a shower, Tifa had been with him. And that just poked a stick right in the sore spot of her refusing to comfort him because the kids were there.
Had he been running on a few more hours of sleep, had he not just come inches away from twisting on the floor in agony, he would have realized how ridiculous that was. However, he wasn't, and he almost did, and her refusal was a sore issue with him now.
After washing and dressing in some comfortable, clean clothes, he went downstairs and found his dinner already waiting for him, on the bar.
It's said that gods eat ambrosia. He had no idea what ambrosia is, but it can't be better than this. He thanked Tifa once again and started in on his late meal. Mmmm. Divine.
As he ate, he watched Tifa and the kids, semi-curious. She was helping them study for a quiz, using flash cards. She'd hold up a card, wait for them to identify what was on it and ask a few questions before moving onto the next card. It took him a while to figure out what the quiz was about.
Meteorology. Weather. Wind patters, cloud formations, all that shtick. He only realized it when he started getting irritated because he thought they were using his name every other sentence. Couldn't they at least wait until he'd passed out in bed to start talking about him? After a moment of obvious eavesdropping, it surprised him to discover they actually weren't talking about him.
Marlene's little face was a picture of concentration as she tried to identify the object on the card.
"Come on, Marlene," Tifa said gently. "You know this. What kind of cloud is this?"
"Cu... cumulus?"
"Excellent!" A new card comes up. "How about this cloud."
"Cirrus."
Tifa's eyebrows raised a little. Marlene pinched her face in concentration once again.
"Stratus cloud!" Denzel cried.
Okay, first off, Cloud didn't know why he got this shit name. Yes, you heard right -- shit name. It sounded girly, for one. Clouds were soft and white and puffy and very pretty and occasionally spawned murderous tornadoes.
How does that not describe girls? While all the other kids were being named John and Mark and... heh heh.... Vincent, he got -- Cloud. All the other names were taken up so he got the most boring weather phenomena for his moniker. Seriously. Weather. Who the hell resorts to watching the weather channel for naming your kid?
His mother apparently. Instead of getting a solid masculine name, he got something that stuck out just as much as his hair did.
Thanks mom.
Secondly, his name created awkward moments such as this. Since it is really one of the most common and boring of weather phenomena, clouds will just come up in conversation and that's always awkward when a person with that name is standing right there.
The other day, Yuffie had been trying to describe to Tifa this beautiful sunset she'd seen in Wutai. She rhapsodized about the lacy clouds that were gold and pink and how this one cloud looked so pretty, just blocking out the sun...
Then her little beady-evil-ferret-ninja eyes had alighted upon the poor blond just as he descended the stairs and she started rhapsodizing about how beautiful he was.... particularly in a dress. With a tiara.
Oh yeah. He was going to pay her back for that one, but good.
And it goes without saying he absolutely detested watching the morning news. You have any idea how strange it feels, hearing your name come out of a wrinkly dude's mouth twenty times in five seconds, every morning? Creepy. That's how it feels.
Anyways, it dawned on the other three as well that they were now saying his name, instead of naming a weather occurrence. There's no real point at which they stopped saying 'cloud' and started saying 'Cloud' but they all subliminally knew it and the awkward tension in the air was razor sharp.
Tifa turned to him and he gazed back, perfectly deadpan. "Do you want to eat in your room?" she asked.
Oh, don't even try. She denied him some comfort when he needed it most. He knew what she was doing and he wasn't going to go along with it. Payback.
"Nope," he said.
She gritted her teeth slightly. "Do you have to eat at the bar?" Was that desperation he heard in her voice? Ha! Writhe! Just like he'd been about to writhe on the floor at her feet! Because she wouldn't give him a hug. A Tifahug.
Crap, even his conscience sounded petulant.
"Yup," he said.
She narrowed her eyes dangerously and turned back to the kids. "Okay, what Cloud is this, Marlene?"
He saw her flinch and couldn't help but smirk. There it was again, his name, not the weather. It was really starting to annoy them. He was too tired to be annoyed. Say my name baby, say my name. So much for keeping any 'intimacy' from showing around the kids, eh, Teefs? Ha!
He turned back to his food to hide his evil smirk.
"Cirrus Cloud." Even Marlene winces a bit.
"Good... good. And how does it form?"
Marlene closed her eyes and after a moment started speaking. She sounded like she was reciting from a textbook. "Cirrus Cl-clouds are composed of ice crystals high in the stratosphere."
"Right! And what kind of Cloud is opposite that?" Flinch.
A squint, a bite of the lip. "A stratus Cloud, because they form really low."
Okay, scratch that last part. It was starting to annoy him now.
"Cumulonimbus is my favorite Cloud," Denzel said proudly. He didn't even flinch when he said it -- kid was slow on the uptake. "It's awesome looking."
"I like Cirrus Clouds," Marlene said. "They're so wispy and delicate looking. Pretty."
Oh yeah, wispy and delicate. Pretty! Exactly the kind of description he wanted attached to his name. He rapidly finished his meal. He had to get out -- now. He really regretted staying now. His stupid little attempt of retribution at Tifa had totally backfired.
This day was going from shit, to shit-storm. And no, that wasn't a pun on Denzel's 'awesome' cumulonimbus Clou-- er, clouds. Dammit, now he was starting to do it too! Gah!
Just... chug the orange juice Tifa poured him and go. Run. Get to bed and pass out and forget this ever happened. And when morning comes, tell the world to get bent and don't get up. Ever. Again.
"Cirrus Clouds are girly," Denzel scoffed.
Why, Denzel?
Why.
That was a seriously low blow. You're supposed to back a dude up, not hit below the belt. Cloud reminded himself to have a talk with that boy.
A muffled sound came from Tifa but he dare not glance back at them. Just run, Strife. RUN!
....Dang it, this glass wasn't this big last time he remembered drinking from it. He had to stop and gasp for breath.
"They are not girly Clouds! They're pretty!"
"Girly. Clouds," Denzel said.
Stop saying it, dammit! Oh, he'd remember this indignity. Denzel wouldn't be wheedling anything out of him for months, at the very least.
"Teeeefaaaaa!" Marlene whined. Like all kids do, they turned to the parent for the tie-breaker.
Thank all that's holy. He finally managed to drain the glass. He never wanted to see orange juice again so long as he lived.
"Sorry you two, I can't help you out." Tifa sounded too damn smug. Now he was never going to get that hug.
"But whyyyy?"
He slid off the stool and started making a hasty retreat for the stairs. If he stayed any longer, this was just going to get worse. Okay? Worse. As in worse than the day Nibelheim was destroyed.
Well, okay. Maybe not that bad, but pretty damn close.
Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder -- his good one, since the other was still sore -- halted his retreat in midstep. His balance was upset and to stop from falling, he stumbled into the bar. The edge of the bartop dug into his back. Oh please, please, just let me escape, let me get out of here with some digni--
All thoughts cut off as Tifa gave him a long, deep, hot kiss that was definitely not G-rated.
Oh. Oh wow. Oh that was good. That was really, really good. He needed that. The kiss kept going on and on and on and he felt himself slowly sliding into blissful oblivion, sweetly ignorant of the kids squeakings and gasps. He wondered for a moment if Tifa had planned this -- timing his dinner with the kids' studying, knowing he'd be miserable when he came home.
But really, planned or not, he didn't care. It was glorious.
When they finally broke apart, Tifa just smiled up at him, her eyes flashing mischievously. "Because this," and she winked at him, "is my favorite Cloud."
The kids snorted and gagged at the ridiculous pun but it made him grin. Only Tifa, only his angel could make a stupid, awkward, girly name sound like something amazing. Something about how she said it, how she lingered on the name, made him want to strut. She was amazing.
And she wasn't done yet, since she kissed him again, same as last time but even better, if that was possible. Two kisses! Two awesome kisses from excruciatingly beautiful, wonderful Tifa, in front of the kids, when he really needed it. Not only that, but she had also preserved his masculinity and saved face for him all in one go. And that isn't even touching on how wonderful her mouth feels, how incredible she tastes and how it's even better since the kids are sitting right there, like stealing a kiss in church. He loved her madly.
She said he was her favorite. He felt a little proud of that.
After she finally parted from him and winked, giving him that look that said she'd be cuddling with him tonight after all, he climbed the stairs with a daffy grin on his face. The kids laughter followed him up and he collapsed on the bed, sinking into the wonderfully soft sheets. He was still smiling.
Later, when Tifa slipped into bed with him and covered his face with kisses, he knew this was without a doubt one of the best moments in his life. Falling asleep with a warm and cozy and jasmine-lavender scented Tifa snuggling up to him was one of the few pleasures in his life that he would never tire of. He fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.
Overall?
A pretty good day.
Entry 3:
The Undying Resolve
Cloud: ( Listen to this while reading until I tell you otherwise http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vbudyTPelE)
-There I was in a world of ruin, a world of pain and mostly a world of confusion. Lost in my own mind, lost in my own vortex of thoughts. Filled in agony, frustration and despair. What have I done?Did I just end the world?I don't want to go back, I deserve to suffer, I disappointed everyone including myself. I am no SOLDIER, I am a failure, I am sorry Aerith my dear , Tifa and everyone else.
Why did I turn out to be just a puppet, am I real or am I the result of a failed experiemnt, a mere clone foolish enough to think he has self control. Just to think that I turned out to be the ultimate traitor, even Cait Sith redeemed himself. I let Aerith die and almost did it myself. WHY? I guess this is what a pitiful puppet deserves to experience. I should embrace my real identity perhaps...
Why do I even care for someone else, after all I am a not human, a scientific creating with the sole purpose of serving. But if so, why do I feel, I should be a robot.
Meanwhile in Mideel
Doctor:
-This patient is a lost cause, he is completely catatonic. How did he survive such mako exposure. Anyway he shouldn't be alive for much longer.
Tifa:
-Doctor, please DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS, there must be a way...I couldnt bare the loss... Just the though of it threatens my heart.
Doctor:
-I am sorry miss, all you can do now is be here for him, for his last moments of living. (whispering: if you can call this living).
Cloud:
-I hear her, what is this, I cannot move. Im completely lost and yet I can hear her sweet voice. Tifa I am not worthy of you so please.. just leave me here to die, do not try to find me.
After the events of the destruction of Mideel Tifa and Cloud's lifeless body were drowning in the lifesream, maybe not lifeless but atleast vegetable with no trace of himself, no mind to occupy that empty and shallow body.
As a courageous ever vibrant young woman, Tifa could not give up on the love of her life, the thought of the extreme pain and grief she would have to endure would end her as well as any traces of hope she had of saving the world. She could not be without her knight.
She travelled with her councious through the lifestream by the essence of her love for Cloud and her strong will. There she was in the broken and agonizing place where Cloud struggled to find himself, his real self wondering about his life's meaning. Wondering about his origins and struggling aswell with his possible fake memories and burning feelings scorching what was left of his dieing soul. Tifa felt horrified by the dreadful vision of her love broken before her eyes. But she could not accept defeat. She had the strength of a dragon and filled with an undying resolve of bringing the shattered Cloud back, slowly she started joining the pieces of his long lost true self.
Inside Cloud's Mind:
Tifa:
-Cloud are you there? Can you hear me?
Cloud:
- Tifa I promised you when we were young that I would become a SOLDIER to protect you...but ultimately I failed you and everyone in Nibelheim.
Tifa:
-Cloud you were not there for me in that day five years ago. Now I remember it clearly. And the past feelings are not no false memories. I remember and cherish them just like you. Please you have to believe in me and yourself.
Cloud:
-But I almost killed Aerith and in the end she died because I was not good enough to protect her, I gave the black materia to Sephiroth, I doomed the world. I cannot cause more harm to you, our friends and the planet itself.
Tifa:
-Cloud it was not your fault, you were being controlled by sephiroth somehow, I remember you, you are not just a sephiroth clone. You are a real person and we need you to save the planet. We must avenge Aerith at once. Please believe. You are Cloud from Nibelheim my childhood buddy and WE CANNOT GO WITHOUT YOU (stop listening to who Am I and listen to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dnl6NoEVdo).
With no surprise she had won the psychological war going within Cloud and joined his shattered personality into a single and now hopefully stable piece.
They left the lifestream and they were once again reunited to fulfill the destiny that was once again looking brighter.
With a renewed hope they rejoined their friends with the goal of saving the planet, rid it of it's disease, rid it from the calamity from the skies and Sephiroth.
Cloud still keeping his introverted personality thought to himself
- What wonderful friends I have and I guess my feelings are a little less messed up now. It is clear that Tifa is....my true love.
Cloud: ( Listen to this while reading until I tell you otherwise http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vbudyTPelE)
-There I was in a world of ruin, a world of pain and mostly a world of confusion. Lost in my own mind, lost in my own vortex of thoughts. Filled in agony, frustration and despair. What have I done?Did I just end the world?I don't want to go back, I deserve to suffer, I disappointed everyone including myself. I am no SOLDIER, I am a failure, I am sorry Aerith my dear , Tifa and everyone else.
Why did I turn out to be just a puppet, am I real or am I the result of a failed experiemnt, a mere clone foolish enough to think he has self control. Just to think that I turned out to be the ultimate traitor, even Cait Sith redeemed himself. I let Aerith die and almost did it myself. WHY? I guess this is what a pitiful puppet deserves to experience. I should embrace my real identity perhaps...
Why do I even care for someone else, after all I am a not human, a scientific creating with the sole purpose of serving. But if so, why do I feel, I should be a robot.
Meanwhile in Mideel
Doctor:
-This patient is a lost cause, he is completely catatonic. How did he survive such mako exposure. Anyway he shouldn't be alive for much longer.
Tifa:
-Doctor, please DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS, there must be a way...I couldnt bare the loss... Just the though of it threatens my heart.
Doctor:
-I am sorry miss, all you can do now is be here for him, for his last moments of living. (whispering: if you can call this living).
Cloud:
-I hear her, what is this, I cannot move. Im completely lost and yet I can hear her sweet voice. Tifa I am not worthy of you so please.. just leave me here to die, do not try to find me.
After the events of the destruction of Mideel Tifa and Cloud's lifeless body were drowning in the lifesream, maybe not lifeless but atleast vegetable with no trace of himself, no mind to occupy that empty and shallow body.
As a courageous ever vibrant young woman, Tifa could not give up on the love of her life, the thought of the extreme pain and grief she would have to endure would end her as well as any traces of hope she had of saving the world. She could not be without her knight.
She travelled with her councious through the lifestream by the essence of her love for Cloud and her strong will. There she was in the broken and agonizing place where Cloud struggled to find himself, his real self wondering about his life's meaning. Wondering about his origins and struggling aswell with his possible fake memories and burning feelings scorching what was left of his dieing soul. Tifa felt horrified by the dreadful vision of her love broken before her eyes. But she could not accept defeat. She had the strength of a dragon and filled with an undying resolve of bringing the shattered Cloud back, slowly she started joining the pieces of his long lost true self.
Inside Cloud's Mind:
Tifa:
-Cloud are you there? Can you hear me?
Cloud:
- Tifa I promised you when we were young that I would become a SOLDIER to protect you...but ultimately I failed you and everyone in Nibelheim.
Tifa:
-Cloud you were not there for me in that day five years ago. Now I remember it clearly. And the past feelings are not no false memories. I remember and cherish them just like you. Please you have to believe in me and yourself.
Cloud:
-But I almost killed Aerith and in the end she died because I was not good enough to protect her, I gave the black materia to Sephiroth, I doomed the world. I cannot cause more harm to you, our friends and the planet itself.
Tifa:
-Cloud it was not your fault, you were being controlled by sephiroth somehow, I remember you, you are not just a sephiroth clone. You are a real person and we need you to save the planet. We must avenge Aerith at once. Please believe. You are Cloud from Nibelheim my childhood buddy and WE CANNOT GO WITHOUT YOU (stop listening to who Am I and listen to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dnl6NoEVdo).
With no surprise she had won the psychological war going within Cloud and joined his shattered personality into a single and now hopefully stable piece.
They left the lifestream and they were once again reunited to fulfill the destiny that was once again looking brighter.
With a renewed hope they rejoined their friends with the goal of saving the planet, rid it of it's disease, rid it from the calamity from the skies and Sephiroth.
Cloud still keeping his introverted personality thought to himself
- What wonderful friends I have and I guess my feelings are a little less messed up now. It is clear that Tifa is....my true love.
Entry 4:
A Hero's Lesson
They always met in the same training room. It was a tradition of sorts, going back to long before they had each become 1st Class SOLDIER. The room held many memories for each of them; some tinged with the bitterness of defeat, some with the sweet taste of victory. Of course, the number of these memories varied for each of them. For Genesis Rhapsodos, who stood alone in the center of the chamber, awaiting the arrival of his two closest companions, the former far outweighed the latter. Yet perhaps today that would change. One could not know what the future held, after all, and the world needed a new hero. It was only a matter of time.
“When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting…”
“LOVELESS again?” Sephiroth asked by way of a greeting as he entered the chamber, the faintest of smiles touching his chiselled, often expressionless features, as though it didn’t quite belong there. He was closely followed by Angeal, who merely smiled, the expression far more natural on his face, and nodded by way of greeting; there was not much that needed to be said between the three of them; this was simply routine banter before they began to spar. The three of them sparring together was tradition as well, although it often degenerated into a match between Genesis and Sephiroth, which Angeal was forced to break apart before more than just pride was injured. It was nothing short of a miracle that the two didn’t cut one another to pieces.
“Indeed.” Genesis returned the smile and nodded, although there was an edge to his light-hearted tone, as there had been for many years now, since Sephiroth achieved the fame he now held. There was always a certain level of tension between the two, as the rivalry between them ran almost as deeply as their friendship. It never left entirely, although at times like these – before training sessions – the two were at their most amicable. Angeal, of course, never felt much of that tension, as he had no particular rivalry with either of them. For him, they were not rivals, but rather companions and friends.
Angeal was unsurprised to find Genesis here before Sephiroth and himself. No doubt he had been practicing on his own for at least an hour before this, preparing himself to face Sephiroth. Never Angeal; whilst the two were close friends, it was not Angeal that Genesis was truly interested in. He wanted nothing more than to defeat Sephiroth, and would go to any lengths to do so…and that was precisely the problem. He became more despondent with each loss – he never said it or even showed it, yet the slump in his shoulders as he left the training room alone was unmistakable – and grew all the more distant from them, wrapped up in his own perceived inadequacy. However, Angeal had a plan in mind to restore the balance between them somewhat, which was why he had suggested this impromptu training session. With luck, it would be a learning experience for both of them, and may help to restore the friendship that was slowly deteriorating.
“I figured we could try something different today, actually, if you don’t mind. Computer, run training program Beta Sixteen.” Angeal ordered, trying and failing to keep the smile off of his face. With luck, this would alleviate some of the tension, and add a little variety to their routine sparring sessions. It was good to keep one’s combat skills honed, but combat skills were not the only skills one needed to be a SOLDIER, and those skills they did not practice anywhere near enough.
Beta Sixteen was a program that he had set up personally, in order to further his pupil’s growth. The young man was exceptionally skilled in combat, but not in defending a target, and that was far more important sometimes, when the goal was to save lives, and not to take those of their enemies. The room darkened for a moment as the simulation activated, and quite suddenly, the three of them stood in a large, dark chamber constructed of multiple platforms overlooking a small, shining pool. At the edge of the pool, a young girl knelt, head bowed in prayer, although no sound came from her. Both Genesis and Sephiroth stared at her for a few moments before looking at Angeal, both clearly puzzled.
“What are you planning, Angeal?” Sephiroth asked the question first, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Even around Angeal and Genesis, he rarely showed much of what he was thinking; he must be very curious indeed to display it so openly. Excellent. Convincing Sephiroth would have been the only difficult part of this exercise; with him interested, Genesis was sure to follow.
“Do we not all fight harder if we have something to protect?” Angeal asked rhetorically, gesturing at the girl. “We fight to protect, not to harm. I have been teaching my own student that same lesson, and so I arranged for this little exercise, which I conveniently forgot to delete off the system. Even an old soldier needs a reminder of the basic principles sometimes, hm?”
The girl had not moved; indeed, she was not programmed to. She had been modelled on nobody in particular, although she was to Zack’s taste in women: slim and with long, chestnut brown hair, clad in a simple one-piece dress that allowed the imagination of a hormone-driven teen to run wild as it clung and concealed in all the right (or wrong) places. Of course, the simulation wouldn’t have quite the same effect on Genesis that it did on Zack (which was probably just as well) yet it ought to be enough. The image didn’t matter, it was the principle, at least for someone like Genesis.
Sephiroth nodded once; he understood, it seemed, and he was more than willing to go along with it. Of course, it was just another exercise for him. Playing the villain was no different to playing the hero; there was a goal, and that was all that mattered. Sephiroth was ever focused on the goal. If that goal was to overcome Genesis to win control of the target, then so be it. Sephiroth would put in exactly the same amount of effort that he always did; no more and no less.
“’Ripples form on the water's surface; the wandering soul knows no rest.’” Genesis quoted, studying the girl anew, the light of anticipation entering his eyes. He was definitely interested in this; but of course, why would he not be? This was his chance to defeat Sephiroth, to prove to himself and to the other that he was a worthy adversary; an equal. He did not have to prove any such thing, yet Genesis’ mind was complex, and occasionally misplaced in its focus. There could be no friendship without a perspective of equality and, whilst he would never admit it, Genesis considered himself inferior to Sephiroth. He moved to stand in front of the girl, drawing his blade, shifting into a guarded stance. “A poor substitute, Angeal, yet it will serve. Shall we, then?”
Sephiroth drew his blade in response, taking a few experimental steps forward before launching into a furious flurry, intending to disable Genesis there and then. Angeal stepped back into the shadows, content to watch his friends; this was a battle for the two of them to play out. Genesis held his ground, meeting stroke for stroke, pushing Sephiroth back to give himself enough time to enhance his blade with magic, adding a second light source to the surroundings – this one an ominous red – which flicked fitfully as it clashed with Sephiroth’s blade. A few more exchanges, and quite suddenly it was Genesis who was on the offensive, blade weaving in an intricate pattern as he attempted to find a way through Sephiroth’s guard. No simple task, yet he did force Sephiroth back a step. Then another, and then another still, each easier than the last. Where there had been but five steps between Sephiroth and the kneeling girl to begin with, there were now seven, and then ten, and then thirteen. Angeal raised an eyebrow in surprise; Genesis had never forced Sephiroth back so quickly before. Was the desire to protect the target granting him the focus he needed to overcome his rival?
Genesis drove Sephiroth back yet again, forcing the other to leap to higher ground to avoid what would have been decapitation as he lunged forward, blade sweeping up viciously. He followed his with a barrage of fireballs as the other leapt back, which he barely managed to deflect, face no longer calm and expressionless, but twisted in concentration and slight frustration; Sephiroth was having real trouble keeping Genesis at bay. But then, he was overdoing it again. Genesis took every training exercise seriously, as though he were engaged in combat with the enemy right there and the fate of the mission depended on his success. It was a good attitude to take, but at the same time...some semblance of reality wouldn’t have hurt him or his sparring partner. More than once Angeal had taken a fireball to his face or sustained severe cuts because Genesis forgot that he wasn’t an actual enemy.
Thus far, he had never managed to so much as put a rip in Sephiroth’s coat in any of their training sessions, but with the way he was fighting now, that could soon change. Motivated by the need to protect something – whether it was the hologram or his pride was impossible to tell – Genesis had found an inner reserve of strength, and was proving that he was more than a match for Sephiroth. This, then, was Genesis’ strength; the thing that he had that Sephiroth did not: passion. When focused, it made him a force to be reckoned with, far stronger than Sephiroth in combat, perhaps even both of them combined. The problem was that he had trouble focusing it: too often, his passion became anger, clouding his judgement, allowing the cool-headed Sephiroth to defeat him with ease. Had Genesis possessed Sephiroth’s focus, he would have defeated him every time with as much ease as Sephiroth seemed to defeat him. It appeared that now he was finally tapping into his true potential to overcome his rival…
No…something wasn’t quite right here. Sephiroth was purposely leading Genesis away from the target; Angeal had attempted the same tactic on Zack, and he recognised it immediately for what it was. He was giving ground – not that he had much choice in that; it was all he could do to hold Genesis at bay – yet he was still allowing himself to be pushed away, increasing the distance between Genesis and the one he was supposed to protect as well as his own. Genesis had forgotten his mission, and was concentrated on one thing and one thing only: defeating Sephiroth. Indeed, in this state he might have managed it, only that wasn’t the purpose of this exercise, and whilst pushing Sephiroth back was one thing, breaking through his guard was quite another. With Zack, it hadn’t worked, and Angeal had been forced to close on him, to engage on his terms: despite how hot-headed he was, Zack hadn’t forgotten his mission…at least, not immediately. Genesis was taking the bait, however: unless he defeated Sephiroth within the next few moments, he was going to lose, and whilst he was more than a match for him in this state, there was plenty of room for them to manoeuvre. All Sephiroth needed to do was find the right moment to disengage from combat, and…
The end, when it came, was swift and decisive, as Angeal knew it would be. A feint from Sephiroth drove Genesis back, and then he was turning away from him, disengaging completely from combat, leaving himself wide open to a barrage of flame, which only hastened his momentum off the platform they stood upon, descending from above in a controlled dive to drive his sword through the kneeling girl’s middle, passing through her as smoothly as it would had she been real, disrupting the hologram and disintegrating it, ending the exercise, quenching Genesis’ passion in a single, brutal blow. Genesis dropped his sword as he returned to his senses, the hollow sound echoing heavily through the now silent chamber, magnified further by the simulation it had created of the cavern. A death knell for his newly found confidence.
“End simulation.” Angeal said, finding his voice again after a moment, returning the training room to its original state. Without the hollow cavern the air was much warmer, yet Angeal was nonetheless colder than he had been inside it. Sephiroth still hadn’t moved from his finishing position; sword extended as though it still held the girl transfixed. But he wasn’t Angeal’s concern. “Genesis-“
“’My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams; no honour remains. The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess.’” Genesis interrupted him, his face and tone revealing nothing of what was going on in his mind, shrugging and picking up his sword from where it had dropped, the passion that had sustained him during that fight drained from him once more, staring at the empty spot where the girl had been a moment ago – and Sephiroth’s sword - before turning away from both of them, walking out of the training room without another word. Angeal moved to intercept him – it was a very bad place to leave things – yet a glance from Sephiroth, who finally moved to sheathe his weapon in one swift, fluid motion, stopped him. As the door slid back into place with Genesis’ departure, an awkward silence settled between the two of them before Angeal found his voice again.
“Did you really have to end it like that?” he rounded on Sephiroth, furious. His friend could have easily stopped himself before his blade went through the hologram, of that he was certain. What he had done only emphasised Genesis’ failure to accomplish his mission, and to defeat him. Two blows that would only serve to highlight his perceived inadequacy. He had lost sight of the mission, and no clearer message than that could have been delivered. It was too harsh, too harsh by far; Angeal hadn’t even gone that far with Zack when he had failed the mission, who certainly needed to learn the lesson far more than Genesis did.
“That was the quickest way to put an end to it.” Sephiroth shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the way things had turned out. His expression was perfect serenity. Just another exercise; of course, Angeal had said nothing about winning the target; killing it was a perfectly acceptable option, although a little unsettling, that his friend would immediately take it when things took a turn for the worse. Green eyes bored into his own, unblinking, unflinching, and unfeeling. Ever focused on the goal, no matter what it may be. “The hero doesn’t win every time, Angeal.”
They always met in the same training room. It was a tradition of sorts, going back to long before they had each become 1st Class SOLDIER. The room held many memories for each of them; some tinged with the bitterness of defeat, some with the sweet taste of victory. Of course, the number of these memories varied for each of them. For Genesis Rhapsodos, who stood alone in the center of the chamber, awaiting the arrival of his two closest companions, the former far outweighed the latter. Yet perhaps today that would change. One could not know what the future held, after all, and the world needed a new hero. It was only a matter of time.
“When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting…”
“LOVELESS again?” Sephiroth asked by way of a greeting as he entered the chamber, the faintest of smiles touching his chiselled, often expressionless features, as though it didn’t quite belong there. He was closely followed by Angeal, who merely smiled, the expression far more natural on his face, and nodded by way of greeting; there was not much that needed to be said between the three of them; this was simply routine banter before they began to spar. The three of them sparring together was tradition as well, although it often degenerated into a match between Genesis and Sephiroth, which Angeal was forced to break apart before more than just pride was injured. It was nothing short of a miracle that the two didn’t cut one another to pieces.
“Indeed.” Genesis returned the smile and nodded, although there was an edge to his light-hearted tone, as there had been for many years now, since Sephiroth achieved the fame he now held. There was always a certain level of tension between the two, as the rivalry between them ran almost as deeply as their friendship. It never left entirely, although at times like these – before training sessions – the two were at their most amicable. Angeal, of course, never felt much of that tension, as he had no particular rivalry with either of them. For him, they were not rivals, but rather companions and friends.
Angeal was unsurprised to find Genesis here before Sephiroth and himself. No doubt he had been practicing on his own for at least an hour before this, preparing himself to face Sephiroth. Never Angeal; whilst the two were close friends, it was not Angeal that Genesis was truly interested in. He wanted nothing more than to defeat Sephiroth, and would go to any lengths to do so…and that was precisely the problem. He became more despondent with each loss – he never said it or even showed it, yet the slump in his shoulders as he left the training room alone was unmistakable – and grew all the more distant from them, wrapped up in his own perceived inadequacy. However, Angeal had a plan in mind to restore the balance between them somewhat, which was why he had suggested this impromptu training session. With luck, it would be a learning experience for both of them, and may help to restore the friendship that was slowly deteriorating.
“I figured we could try something different today, actually, if you don’t mind. Computer, run training program Beta Sixteen.” Angeal ordered, trying and failing to keep the smile off of his face. With luck, this would alleviate some of the tension, and add a little variety to their routine sparring sessions. It was good to keep one’s combat skills honed, but combat skills were not the only skills one needed to be a SOLDIER, and those skills they did not practice anywhere near enough.
Beta Sixteen was a program that he had set up personally, in order to further his pupil’s growth. The young man was exceptionally skilled in combat, but not in defending a target, and that was far more important sometimes, when the goal was to save lives, and not to take those of their enemies. The room darkened for a moment as the simulation activated, and quite suddenly, the three of them stood in a large, dark chamber constructed of multiple platforms overlooking a small, shining pool. At the edge of the pool, a young girl knelt, head bowed in prayer, although no sound came from her. Both Genesis and Sephiroth stared at her for a few moments before looking at Angeal, both clearly puzzled.
“What are you planning, Angeal?” Sephiroth asked the question first, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Even around Angeal and Genesis, he rarely showed much of what he was thinking; he must be very curious indeed to display it so openly. Excellent. Convincing Sephiroth would have been the only difficult part of this exercise; with him interested, Genesis was sure to follow.
“Do we not all fight harder if we have something to protect?” Angeal asked rhetorically, gesturing at the girl. “We fight to protect, not to harm. I have been teaching my own student that same lesson, and so I arranged for this little exercise, which I conveniently forgot to delete off the system. Even an old soldier needs a reminder of the basic principles sometimes, hm?”
The girl had not moved; indeed, she was not programmed to. She had been modelled on nobody in particular, although she was to Zack’s taste in women: slim and with long, chestnut brown hair, clad in a simple one-piece dress that allowed the imagination of a hormone-driven teen to run wild as it clung and concealed in all the right (or wrong) places. Of course, the simulation wouldn’t have quite the same effect on Genesis that it did on Zack (which was probably just as well) yet it ought to be enough. The image didn’t matter, it was the principle, at least for someone like Genesis.
Sephiroth nodded once; he understood, it seemed, and he was more than willing to go along with it. Of course, it was just another exercise for him. Playing the villain was no different to playing the hero; there was a goal, and that was all that mattered. Sephiroth was ever focused on the goal. If that goal was to overcome Genesis to win control of the target, then so be it. Sephiroth would put in exactly the same amount of effort that he always did; no more and no less.
“’Ripples form on the water's surface; the wandering soul knows no rest.’” Genesis quoted, studying the girl anew, the light of anticipation entering his eyes. He was definitely interested in this; but of course, why would he not be? This was his chance to defeat Sephiroth, to prove to himself and to the other that he was a worthy adversary; an equal. He did not have to prove any such thing, yet Genesis’ mind was complex, and occasionally misplaced in its focus. There could be no friendship without a perspective of equality and, whilst he would never admit it, Genesis considered himself inferior to Sephiroth. He moved to stand in front of the girl, drawing his blade, shifting into a guarded stance. “A poor substitute, Angeal, yet it will serve. Shall we, then?”
Sephiroth drew his blade in response, taking a few experimental steps forward before launching into a furious flurry, intending to disable Genesis there and then. Angeal stepped back into the shadows, content to watch his friends; this was a battle for the two of them to play out. Genesis held his ground, meeting stroke for stroke, pushing Sephiroth back to give himself enough time to enhance his blade with magic, adding a second light source to the surroundings – this one an ominous red – which flicked fitfully as it clashed with Sephiroth’s blade. A few more exchanges, and quite suddenly it was Genesis who was on the offensive, blade weaving in an intricate pattern as he attempted to find a way through Sephiroth’s guard. No simple task, yet he did force Sephiroth back a step. Then another, and then another still, each easier than the last. Where there had been but five steps between Sephiroth and the kneeling girl to begin with, there were now seven, and then ten, and then thirteen. Angeal raised an eyebrow in surprise; Genesis had never forced Sephiroth back so quickly before. Was the desire to protect the target granting him the focus he needed to overcome his rival?
Genesis drove Sephiroth back yet again, forcing the other to leap to higher ground to avoid what would have been decapitation as he lunged forward, blade sweeping up viciously. He followed his with a barrage of fireballs as the other leapt back, which he barely managed to deflect, face no longer calm and expressionless, but twisted in concentration and slight frustration; Sephiroth was having real trouble keeping Genesis at bay. But then, he was overdoing it again. Genesis took every training exercise seriously, as though he were engaged in combat with the enemy right there and the fate of the mission depended on his success. It was a good attitude to take, but at the same time...some semblance of reality wouldn’t have hurt him or his sparring partner. More than once Angeal had taken a fireball to his face or sustained severe cuts because Genesis forgot that he wasn’t an actual enemy.
Thus far, he had never managed to so much as put a rip in Sephiroth’s coat in any of their training sessions, but with the way he was fighting now, that could soon change. Motivated by the need to protect something – whether it was the hologram or his pride was impossible to tell – Genesis had found an inner reserve of strength, and was proving that he was more than a match for Sephiroth. This, then, was Genesis’ strength; the thing that he had that Sephiroth did not: passion. When focused, it made him a force to be reckoned with, far stronger than Sephiroth in combat, perhaps even both of them combined. The problem was that he had trouble focusing it: too often, his passion became anger, clouding his judgement, allowing the cool-headed Sephiroth to defeat him with ease. Had Genesis possessed Sephiroth’s focus, he would have defeated him every time with as much ease as Sephiroth seemed to defeat him. It appeared that now he was finally tapping into his true potential to overcome his rival…
No…something wasn’t quite right here. Sephiroth was purposely leading Genesis away from the target; Angeal had attempted the same tactic on Zack, and he recognised it immediately for what it was. He was giving ground – not that he had much choice in that; it was all he could do to hold Genesis at bay – yet he was still allowing himself to be pushed away, increasing the distance between Genesis and the one he was supposed to protect as well as his own. Genesis had forgotten his mission, and was concentrated on one thing and one thing only: defeating Sephiroth. Indeed, in this state he might have managed it, only that wasn’t the purpose of this exercise, and whilst pushing Sephiroth back was one thing, breaking through his guard was quite another. With Zack, it hadn’t worked, and Angeal had been forced to close on him, to engage on his terms: despite how hot-headed he was, Zack hadn’t forgotten his mission…at least, not immediately. Genesis was taking the bait, however: unless he defeated Sephiroth within the next few moments, he was going to lose, and whilst he was more than a match for him in this state, there was plenty of room for them to manoeuvre. All Sephiroth needed to do was find the right moment to disengage from combat, and…
The end, when it came, was swift and decisive, as Angeal knew it would be. A feint from Sephiroth drove Genesis back, and then he was turning away from him, disengaging completely from combat, leaving himself wide open to a barrage of flame, which only hastened his momentum off the platform they stood upon, descending from above in a controlled dive to drive his sword through the kneeling girl’s middle, passing through her as smoothly as it would had she been real, disrupting the hologram and disintegrating it, ending the exercise, quenching Genesis’ passion in a single, brutal blow. Genesis dropped his sword as he returned to his senses, the hollow sound echoing heavily through the now silent chamber, magnified further by the simulation it had created of the cavern. A death knell for his newly found confidence.
“End simulation.” Angeal said, finding his voice again after a moment, returning the training room to its original state. Without the hollow cavern the air was much warmer, yet Angeal was nonetheless colder than he had been inside it. Sephiroth still hadn’t moved from his finishing position; sword extended as though it still held the girl transfixed. But he wasn’t Angeal’s concern. “Genesis-“
“’My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams; no honour remains. The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess.’” Genesis interrupted him, his face and tone revealing nothing of what was going on in his mind, shrugging and picking up his sword from where it had dropped, the passion that had sustained him during that fight drained from him once more, staring at the empty spot where the girl had been a moment ago – and Sephiroth’s sword - before turning away from both of them, walking out of the training room without another word. Angeal moved to intercept him – it was a very bad place to leave things – yet a glance from Sephiroth, who finally moved to sheathe his weapon in one swift, fluid motion, stopped him. As the door slid back into place with Genesis’ departure, an awkward silence settled between the two of them before Angeal found his voice again.
“Did you really have to end it like that?” he rounded on Sephiroth, furious. His friend could have easily stopped himself before his blade went through the hologram, of that he was certain. What he had done only emphasised Genesis’ failure to accomplish his mission, and to defeat him. Two blows that would only serve to highlight his perceived inadequacy. He had lost sight of the mission, and no clearer message than that could have been delivered. It was too harsh, too harsh by far; Angeal hadn’t even gone that far with Zack when he had failed the mission, who certainly needed to learn the lesson far more than Genesis did.
“That was the quickest way to put an end to it.” Sephiroth shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the way things had turned out. His expression was perfect serenity. Just another exercise; of course, Angeal had said nothing about winning the target; killing it was a perfectly acceptable option, although a little unsettling, that his friend would immediately take it when things took a turn for the worse. Green eyes bored into his own, unblinking, unflinching, and unfeeling. Ever focused on the goal, no matter what it may be. “The hero doesn’t win every time, Angeal.”
Good luck to everyone!
I shall cast my own vote and give comments later on this week.
The photo you described really does capture pure happiness and contentment, making the love between Cloud and Aerith come to life. 
I really get a feeling that he still holds onto regret for what happened to her; he hasn't fully recovered. He's a little secretive about it too, which suggests he's kept her memory hidden, locked away in his heart for years. I personally feel this is quite realistic, as people don't FULLY recover from truly traumatic losses. They may accept the loss, move forwards and find a new purpose - they may live life happily - but there's always a lingering incompleteness or something...
But furthermore, it's great when writers return to past details in a story and use these details to complete a story. There's a round-ness about it, like things have come full circle and are, at last, complete. It's an excellent technique! 
I shall post a thread up now with details!