#outlandishrounder

Send me 'Spin' and see what you get:#2 : A kiss

They say random is the new sexy.(Based on our Jailbreak thread. :3)

 With the three weeks they had been labeled as fugitives, they had endured all the running, the chasing, the threats that had been hampering their dreams of reaching home or whatever that place they were foolishly seeking.They had withstood the cold outside and different levels of deprivation in exchange of roaming free—

            But what they couldn’t stand, in fact, is each other.

     One reason was stubbornness always gets in the way and it leaves a sour taste in the mouth. The only difference was Prompto was very able to spit it out—but the other was doing exactly the opposite of that.

     ”Are ya kiddin’?” His brows were arched as he assessed Cloud’s most recent injury, a nasty gunshot in the leg that was more or less starting to get infected in the rain. “Ya bleedin’ buckets, man. How fine is that?”

{☣} ||     What's in the rain?

     The tipper tapper as the drops fall has its own kind of hypnosis; the constant rhythm would start to compel until it fully consumes, until it takes command to drown any other sound. It is greedy for it drenches indiscriminately, touching everything on its wake, dims the world temporarily with its own kind of darkness.

            For some it was convenient: in the curtains of the rain there would be no need to hide distraught and despair, there's freedom to howl the pain out and it wouldn't be heard. A nuisance was the most common perception on the other hand with the sheer destruction that it carries along with.

     But for Cloud Strife--it was way more than that. The rain was and always had been a life changer, a ghost that always haunts to remind of all the tragedies that had dragged him and condemned him to his personal hell.

            That day when he turned into a criminal was a rainy day; the lights from the enforcer's vehicles were bleeding into the pavement just like how the red bloomed in his hands and from the still bodies of the mother and child a few feet away from him. Coincidentally, this day had been stormy that he couldn't even see the prison's high walls from the small window of his cell from too much fog. More or less the same. The only difference?

     Now was the time that he would make his escape.

            "Hey pretty boy, you planning to cry again in your sleep tonight?"      "Fawkes, leave him alone, you know he's friggin' sensitive, heh."

           Two bulky men were taking their usual rounds again, and from the patterns for the last few months, the last for that night. Wardens, they call themselves, but in actuality they were inclined to bring torture than to implement order, hurting the prisoners for their entertainment. Cloud had been their victim more often than not and the scars that ran along his back and thighs were proof of their atrocity. He had injured his stay believing in the promise of law and justice but after being told that he'd soon be relocated to the death row--he suddenly realized he should have been over it a long time ago.

     As the shadows faded along the corridors along with the flickering lights from the small lamps, the detainee's alertness slowly skyrocketed. His heart was plummeting against his chest as he reached for the makeshift pick he had obtained earlier when they were doing their chores in the garden, a rusty nail whose end was flattened like a chisel. Instead of using it for the main locks, Cloud would use it to unscrew the cover of the ventilation shaft hidden under his bed, quietly, for the other prisoner at the top bunk could awaken any moment. In the darkness he moved towards his desired freedom, relying on the single piece of metal to get the job done and the credibility of his eyesight.

            Relief came when the lid came off with a clunk. The first step was done albeit he was miles away from his ultimate goal. The next was awaiting: to venture the vents like some kind of rat similar to the treatment he have had. A long maze from the third level to the underground levels that led to many dead ends and turns that would have been impossible if it weren't for his lean build, paranoia inducing too in fears of crossing a weak spot that would send him falling into a tighter security.

     "A light...?" It couldn't be missed at the distance: it was coming from a search lamp above ground, the one near the wall. Cloud's heart leapt; there was his beacon, he's near,he could be freed--he could see his mother again--

            However, horror struck him and he almost froze when a silhouette appeared from the other end of the chute after several thuds.

     No, no, no! His mind was racing and he could feel his knees weaken to the point it was almost useless. I'm almost there! I can't just quit--I've reached this far! He gripped the piece of metal that was stashed in his pants defensively. Could I...? Would I...?! Commit another sin just for the sake of liberty?

My muse is chowing down on a box of pocky and your muse seems to have a sudden craving for the chocolate covered treat! (or perhaps my muses' lips?~) Send "Chomp!" for my muse's reaction to yours biting the other end of the pocky stick!