#seraphova

these dreams.. they come more often when his body gives. when the air is stale and exhaustion casts a broad, blanketing demand across the room. no comfort can be found in a mattress that creaks under his weight. nor with the threadbare blanket that is just as useful, shoved to the foot of the bed. cloud had stared at the ceiling for hours prior, chasing a crack in the plaster until it ruptured and the sky broke through, bright and blazing. milky white clouds.. a fire grazing the horizon. this isn't real, but it could confuse on a bad day. he was having more of those lately.

@riphalos " i know you have a pathological need to play the hero, but right now you need to stop and ask yourself if that’s really what’s best for everyone. "

and sephiroth is always there. he's the specter just out of sight, voice cool and caught in the undertow of a breeze that cuts real as anything in the waking world. that dig he curls tight against.. corners his eyes to find the first peek of long, wispy hair over his shoulder. against his elbow. there's no tickle, just the explosive sting of a connection neither nurtured not safe.

" people need help, " is an unconvinced argument, sinking into his frown as it curls a deep, retreating slant. he can't help anyone ; that's what he's learned. tried not to stare at too closely. compounded, repeated, his ears ring and his tongue presses to the backs of his teeth, " that's.. " cloud stalls, brows tight when certainty hits a wall and the fists that'd formed are left to hang, limp, " ...that's all i'm trying to do. "

soil is spongy, here. beneath his boots, the grass swallows around soles and whatever move is made to gain distance is greeted by a resistance that's sluggish and brutal. another fight he'll inevitably lose. forfeit for the sake of salvaging ... something.

it's a trick question. he asks, she idles, and the topic grows more stale by the second. hers isn't an opinion he seeks because his own is lacking. she's met the shine of feline eyes and turned away with the mild disregard of someone too tired to play the game. can shrug free of his expectations unlike most.. not rise to the needling of a man with too much and not enough to do. " looks like it's below your pay grade. "

it looked like the start of a riot that wouldn't end well for civilians clustered together, arguing with armed guards and itchy trigger fingers. " missions further north. " away from this sector and the memories that say she should have a steeper regard than she does. her, a tag along, lightning is four paces out from the ledge he looms over before she's stopped to glance back. trace the cut of broad shoulders.. pale hair whipped with all the fanfare of the long, sweeping duster beneath it. @riphalos is amused. a cat watching the mice skitter in the other room, unaware that something so much larger than themselves is waiting to see an outcome already predetermined.