[ . . . ] feeling delirious .

the future isn’t set in stone. that’s what i always tell myself.

i’m sick of this! i’m sick of all of this!

it’s pretty old. be careful.

hold on to this. this anger. okay?

don’t worry. you’ll feel much better in the morning.

it’s okay, (name), it’s okay.

promise you’ll come and save me.  

got all the time in the world. 

don’t play dumb with me.

the thing is, this place isn’t safe now. i’m gonna take you somewhere safer, okay?

just try to hang on.

even if we’re not actually related, we’re still a family. a real family, in all the ways that matter.

almost there, (name). we’re almost there.

like they say. the only one who’ll look out for you is you.

now turn that thing off and let’s get you to bed, huh?

every day i went, to wait and to pray.

you owe me a pizza.

i’m sorry, honey. i wish i didn’t have to. i wish i could be with you all the time, i really do.

did you have a bad dream?

another day, another struggle. climbing stairs is so much trouble. 

your friend fought a house?

today’s your unlucky day, ‘cause i never miss.

we’re cool. everything’s cool. 

there is no room for sentiment or guilt.

what’s that weird, sweet smell? and why do i feel so dizzy?

mister first class. first class asshole!

everyone on tv’s talking about it.

c’mon. aren’t you worried what might happen in there?

i’ve fought scarier things in my sleep.

that’s what heroes do. they save people.

‘’monster burger‘’? they use monster meat!?

about that. we should talk. outside. 

i miss it. the steel sky.

you’ll come back, right?

goddamn you! goddamn you all!

what the – you okay, buddy?

you should head back to seventh heaven, meet up with the gang.

band’s back together.

it’s stupid. i know that crying’s a waste of time.

for real, though, we need to talk victory poses. 

promise me. don’t let it be for nothing.

i sometimes have to do bad things.

some believe the promised land to be a myth. others, an allegory of sorts.

i’ll march through the streets singing your praises – even on an empty stomach.

if you’re about to unburden yourself, don’t. 

a whole lot of normal people with families and friends work for shinra. people just trying to support their loved ones as best they can. i know it’s not exactly a revelation, but it’s easy to forget.

you made it. though, i might not.

okay. and then we kill the son of a bitch.

it was a lot to deal with, but we were happy.

the news is just another shinra mouthpiece.

you hear that suit? shinra creed my ass. 

is it our destiny to defy destiny? it’s an interesting question.

been thinking. was all that necessary?

i know i need to let go, but i can’t. i need closure, ‘cause without it, i’ll never be able to move on. 

always happy to help stick it to shinra.

but through suffering, you will grow strong. isn’t that what you want?

i’ll be fine. you’ve seen how much ass i can kick. 

even when you’re all alone, don’t you hear voices whispering secrets?

careful now. that which lies ahead does not yet exist.

i know we have to think big if we’re going to make a difference, but not like this.

oh, jeez, (name), if you could see the look on your face…

it’s a miracle you’ve managed to stay alive this long.

what, you some kind of purist? 

it was us. we did this. 

mako’s the essence of life itself. of memory and hope.

just like you. so suck it up, ‘cause i’m not leaving.

okay. now i’m mad.

the hell kind of ‘’research‘’ is this.

once the lights come on, it’s go time.

yeah, have you heard the phrase ‘’living hand to mouth‘’? 

gotta do my part to clear the path before you steal the show.

get your ass behind cover! now!

this place is scary in a lot of ways.

this had better not get in the way of our plans.

crazy-ass thing made me wanna puke. and not just ‘cause of the presentation, but the content too.

go in through the back door when the coast is clear.

got your lethal force right here, asshole! 

it’s a shame you won’t get to try the midgar special. you would’ve really liked it.

find something you enjoy and stick with it. put your heart and soul into getting better. it’s as simple as that.

with your help, we won’t need luck.

they took everything from us. again.

so i got an idea. frontal assault. guns blazing. make for a good story.

𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨.

❝     and     if     i     don’t?     ❞     a     poised     challenge.     undeterred,     unfazed,     unmoved     by     the     ire     in     mako     -     laden     gaze.     an     assimilation     of     guilts     &&     regrets     &&     self     -     inflicted     shame     she     recognizes.     she’s     held     its     hand     before.     familiarized     herself     with     it     on     a     molecular     level     that     could     sunder     the     bones     belonging     to     storm     -     wrought     she.     it     could     make     &&     unmake     her,     &&     she’d     wager     he’s     no     different.     odds     stacked,     travesties     abundant     —     they     stand     in     destruction     like     cataclysmic     storm     -     bodies.     thunder     that     cracks     through     the     marrow,     catches     in     the     eyes     like     glinting     revelation.     tempered     -     shine     flash     ;     sparks     arc     through     sinew,     prepared     to     force.     the     hand     held     taut     to     sternum,     push     -     back     met     even.     like     a     stalemate     she     allows.     

toy     soldiers     picked     apart     by     the     leaders     of     whatever     crusade     would     see     them     die     for.     suspended     like     marionette,     gods     at     play     in     their     domains     as     if     the     troubles     of     the     mundane     mean     naught.     so     in     the     furrowing     of     a     sculpted     brow     -     line,     jaw     goes     tight     &&     tenses     in     lieu     of     understanding.     

With  poor  attitude  comes  poor  consequence,  and  Cloud  does  well  to  reap  them  in  measurements  too  tightly  woven.  He's  met  with  a  wall  he  cannot  pass,  cannot  crack,  cannot  break,  and  Lightning  does  well  to  make  it  known.  He  meets  reckoning  with  her  fist  now  tied  to  the  shirt  lifted  from  his  chest,  eyes  widened  with  disbelief  for  only  a  moment,  as  the  motion  ignites  a  specific  rage  spurred  from  fear,  now  violent  and  explosive;  the  pain  against  the  back  of  his  neck  sends  him  into  a  burning  inferno  of  vehemence.  He  attempts  to  force  her  to  unhand  him,  but  before  he  can  draw  any  strength,  he's  thrust  back  into  himself  and  has  no  choice  but  to  catch  his  breath.

His  own  fists  are  clenched  now,  and  he  glares  down  at  them.  There's  nothing  he  can  do  but  stand  pathetically  angry,  betrayed  and  embarrassed,  dissatisfied  with  himself  and  the  ill  reminder  of  all  he  lacks.

❛  Shove  it.  ❜   His  footfalls  begin  at  a  speed  that  only  increases  the  further  he  walks,  shoulders  tight,  jaw  clenched,  a  fervent  determination  striking  through  his  mako-ridden  vision.  Every  step  echoes  with  a  firm  thud  of  thick  soles  against  the  ground. 

Kid?  He  doesn't  look  that  young,  does  he?  He's  with  Shinra,  has  been  for  a  few  years  now…  Should  be  grown  enough  to  avoid  the  nicknames,  at  least…  Still,  the  critique  allows  a  thickness  to  build  in  his  throat  that  he's  forced  to  swallow  audibly,  and  immediately  starts  to  correct  his  stance  and  position,  quite  obviously  without  having  any  real  direction.

The  SOLDIER  looks  at  him,  and  Cloud's  nervousness  is  surely  showing,  and  he's  aware,  which  makes  him  even  more  uncomfortable.  Damn  feelings…  He  should  be  like  steel.  Like  Sephiroth.  Such  thoughts  cause  him  to  straighten  his  shoulders  and  wear  a  straighter,  more  confident  expression.

Approximately 4 months and 6 days since Reeve or Cait Sith last had contact with Cloud. All of them busy with their lives, and especially after the recent events concerning Geostigma and the Sephiroth clones who had been running around. The months prior to the three dangers showing up to Edge, Reeve had experienced personal tragedy because of the illness that ravaged across the land.

His mother had been one of the first cases of people who had contracted the mysterious sickness. At first she seemed alright if not fatigued as if stricken with a common flu. Then the splotchy dark marks started to spread here and there on her. Ruvie would say she was fine, just tired, just achy. Never admitting that she knew deep down nothing was getting better. Reeve had been unsure what to think. Then one afternoon he came to visit with some fruit he picked up, and she was slumped there on her sofa having already passed that morning.

Reeve got sick too. His came a few months after even though he had tried to avoid the rain at all costs. Funny, he used to love the rain.

So when the time came to take up arms again and try to source an end to everything, he sent Cait Sith in his stead. Still busy, still unable to properly fight one on one himself as much as he would like to. Reeve just wasn't cut for the overly athletic maneuvers the others tended to take on. And now -- it was peaceful again. People were still nervous, looking up to the sky at every rain cloud, but pressing on with hope. It was during this time that Reeve decided he was long overdo to head down himself and see Cloud and the others in person if possible. Calling never seemed to do the trick after all. And so he stepped through the door where Cloud sourced out his delivery service taking a gander. "Heya Cloud, are you here? It's been too long!"

The  days  have  slowly  lifted  into  something  lighter,  physically  and  emotionally.  The  sky  has  opened  from  the  clouds,  and  the  weight  of  living  feels  less  like  drowning.  Black  splotches  of  Stigma  no  longer  taint  his  hands,  nor  Denzel's,  and  he  hopes  to  whatever  existence  beyond  his  own,  that  it  does  not  plague  anyone  else's.  Every  day  lately  feels  just  like  the  last;  mild  changes  here  or  there,  different  places  to  offer  different  deliveries  that  result  in  different  experiences,  and  yet,  he  feels  like  a  cog  in  a  wheel,  cycling  through  life  without  a  care  or  individual  thought.  For  someone  once  considered  a  hero,  he  sure  doesn't  feel  like  one.

This  day  is  just  as  stagnant  as  the  last,  perhaps  more  stagnant,  as  Tifa  has  taken  Fenrir  out  to  scout  for  needed  fruits  and  vegetables  –  things  he  should  know  by  now,  but  still  tends  to  mess  up  time  to  time.  The  bar  is  closed  for  the  morning,  so  he  spends  time  doing  extra  cleaning  whilst  keeping  Denzel  and  Marlene  busy  and  occupied.

There's  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  two  kids  run  behind  the  bar,  wide-eyed  and  giggling,  while  Cloud  cracks  the  door  just  so,  uttering  a  rejection  before  he  notes  who  stands  there.  ❛  Hey,  sign  says  we're  –  ❜      Oh.

❛  Reeve.  ❜   He  allows  the  door  to  open  fully,  a  silent  invitation  for  him  to  come  inside.  ❛  Yeah,  ‘m  here.  ❜  As  if  it  weren’t  already  obvious  enough.  ❛  You  need  somethin'?  ❜  He  asks,  as  if  it's  obvious  there's  a  purpose  for  this  interaction  in  mind,  a  habit  he  assumes  most  people  possess,  even  when  often  proven  wrong.

@callmeteor : "it's just this campfire story for kids."

mathelin sighed. “ come on. you can tell me. i won't bite. no one will, &. i'm interested. ” that was either the best or worst thing to say. he ( obviously ) did not know this man much. a coincidental run - in &. the elezen sat them both down. “ we got time to spare. ” a whole lot of it with the final days behind him.

❛  ‘S  not  anything  to  write  home  about.  ❜   A  half-hearted  shrug  collapses  from  his  shoulders,  and  he  leans  forward,  further  into  himself,  retaining  his  outward  confidence  despite  it.  His  sigh  is  offered  in  turn,  and  his  ‘lack  of  decorum,’  as  he's  grown  more  aware  of  it,  seems  to  bite  him  in  the  ass  far  more  than  he'd  like  to  admit.  He's  determined  not  to  fuck  this  one  up.