"Moo...gle."

❝  𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐎𝐎?  ❞        The ravenous cries of those already lost,  chittering and groaning through the night,   hungry as the smoke and miasma laden in air.  Single wave of her elegant gloved hand to attract attention,  before pointer finger stays in front of her face to convey the hesitance gas mask could not.  A request for the stranger to cease passage forward,    whence the successor had just traveled.     ❝    If these are what you’re after,     ❞      Brandished bag of beaten down leather is shown, cover slightly ajar in revealing scarlet and ivory.  Straggling leftovers of blood beads,  but they’d be a plethora amidst this drought. They hadn’t been hers originally,  only found after what she can piece together ...  an unfortunate scene.    

                                             ❝  Please,    take mine instead.  ❞

So where did this leave them? In the midst of this town cradled by the desert’s already merciless hold between scalding hot days and biting chills of the night, their options were limited. If one were to peer to the town ahead, hints of that slithering gray and dark clouds be seen pulsing within, creating a hollow filled realm within that parameter, one where time found itself strangled to a pitiful pause for any and all who remain within.

Sora’s features remained uncertain on the practical approach. What roars louder within his rib cage is the desire to act, a look that’s accentuated by the flourishing spiritual blue within his eyes.

”Is there any chance that people can survive while handling the roughest of it in there? Y’know-- if they aren’t prepared? There still could be time in order to help them out.” A questioning gaze draws to Lightning in the hopes of guidance. Whereas the endless embodies of Darkness itself; The Heartless were his area of expertise, he’d only assume that the case for her would be the Chaos itself and any monstrosities that it births.

MUNDAY ASKS! (accepting)

@etrobeauty

If we’re talking about both active+inactive blogs that i may or may not go back to one dAY SDFKJDS theres quite a few, but just sticking with the….. semi active ones, or the ones that are def in my sphere right now even if im not consistently writing on them, its really only this one with The Count, my OC ninja trash boy Tanba @getsuruito, and occasionally, occasionally, my drakenier muse Urick @riftere who’s blog i still haven’t fully revamped after so many months…. lmao.

Cloud often went on walks around the city with no goal in particular, Midgar was such a stimulatory overload of activity that he knew trouble would follow him one way or another no matter where he went in this urban sprawl, so he did his best not to ever stay still for long. His nomadic ways also worked in his favor thanks to his choice of career. Mercenary work is entirely request-based, and unfortunately the only way to get more requests is to come into contact with more people, even if Cloud would never describe himself as a social butterfly it is ironically what his job required of him, and due to his military background he was quite used to doing what he had to do, ShinRa instills a certain dutifulness in all of its SOLDIERs, but in Cloud’s case he was more loyal to himself than their selfish cause and brainwashing methods. It felt strange being so in charge of his own life again, he had felt powerless for so long, like a puppet on a string in the world’s most violent play. Cloud now worked completely on his own schedule; he was free from the clutches of ShinRa’s pretentious, often neurotic higher-ups. The thought of being in control of his own destiny again almost brought a smile to his face until his consciousness forced him to recall all the horrors he went through to reach this moment. Instead of feeling relief, all he felt was his body tense and bristle up like he was fighting another battle, and sure enough the ever-so potent Mako running through his bloodstream re-surged. He began to hallucinate, and this forced him to hold onto the wall of the trading-stall that was nearest to him as flashbacks of his brutal life as a SOLDIER painted his vision. The Mako imbalance in his system often caused him to lose his bearings and momentarily get lost in visions of the past and eerily prophetic glimpses of his future, especially when he was feeling stressed.

Once his forced and often tragic vision of the past ended, he shook his head as if physically shaking the emotional trauma out of his head was somehow possible. After a few seconds of confused blinking he remembered where he actually was standing in the real, physical world. He was back on the same dirty street corner he had just been lamenting on moments before. The visions he was forced to go through were quite an interruption in his life, and he hated how vulnerable it made him feel, as he often had strange hallucinatory fits in public that most definitely made him look unstable to those that did not know he was suffering from toxic over-exposure to Mako. He sighed in frustration, infuriatingly kicking at the nearest bunch of pebbles that once laid on the hastily paved street he was standing on, his sharp eyes following their trajectory as the miniature rocks launched through the air. He often took his frustration out on the world around him like this just to distract himself from reminiscing on the unsolved scars of his past, and it has gotten him into many situations that he regrets. 

As the pebbles hurdled towards their destination mid-air, he realized that perhaps this outward burst of anger would perhaps drag him into yet another unnecessary conflict, because although the rocks were little they were definitely dusty and they were heading right for a woman he had never seen before, and they would probably get her clothes a little dirty. Cloud instinctively cursed at his blunder,

“Ah. Shit. I didn’t see you there.”

He then put his free hand in his pocket to appear casual and nonthreatening. His head tilted to rest on the blunt side of his signature Buster sword as he wrinkled his nose and braced himself for her most likely negative response, his weapon tucked against his shoulder. From Cloud’s point of view, the pinkette before him looked like a stern and serious woman, and kicking rocks at her was definitely not a pleasant or intelligent introduction to someone like that. He was already expecting the worst, although if she happened to be looking in his direction before he booted those rocks then perhaps she would be able to tell that he was unwell, as he was just holding onto a wall for support moments ago due to his powerful hallucinations, and that definitely would look strange to passersby. 

“Uh.. Sorry?”

He stared blankly at her as he gauged her response and shifted his weight from one foot to another, shuffling in place due to his feeling awkward. Sorry, Lightning, that’s probably the best apology you’re going to get out of him for now.

He does not stare at the woman as she speaks, instead his gaze is forlorn and distant. There is truth to her words, far deeper than she may realize. Or perhaps she does. Maybe she sees the pragmatic truth to her words, for he himself was testament to such a saying. A soldier of a bygone age who died a slow and drawn-out death, only to rise now a spirit of retribution and rebellion. He had the strength of hundreds of men, the tenacity of heroes of legend, and a purpose higher than any mortal calling.

And yet, he was so very tired of fighting.

Once long ago, a friend of his equated him to a rusted machine. That ever so often grinded back to life, pumping and churning against the rust which accumulated in the steely coils. It was an apt description for the soldier who never stopped fighter, who disappeared only to reappear when an injustice rear'd it's ugly head. But he was oh so tired. Beaten down and worn out, every inch of his life soaked in crimson. Perhaps he was denied perdition in the spiritual plane, only to suffer it for eternity in the mortal plane.

He shifts his gaze to the woman, a scarred face unflinching as it stared her ugly truth down. It was always a choice to keep fighting, and he made it everytime.

"I cannot disagree. But sometime is lost, everytime. And perhaps one day, I shall grow so strong and powerful the man that was me is gone. Should that day come, I hope that I have done enough to counterbalance my wrongs."