Dislcaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII
Hello everyone! I'm back again - this is my 23rd story now! What am I doing with my life ^_^' Anyway, I've had these written up for... well, some for about 3 years now! And I've been dithering over when to publish them - I meant to in 2015 but then I just kinda forgot. Whoops... Anyway, I've decided that now I'm actually not busy, I'll publish them all! There's about 20 in all. So, every Wednesday from now on, I shall be publishing a chapter. Everyone, please look forward to these one shots! The numbers refer to the prompt series that I took these from, and naturally randomised them.
This series is rated high T for swearing, dark themes, and some sexual themes. Nothing too extreme but I wanted to be safe rather than sorry and get this disclaimer out there. I might change this rating later - but don't worry everyone! No surprise lemons here :p
Without further ado, enjoy!
014. Echo
"Vincent..."
The night was cold, and stormy. The clapping of angry thunder shuttered against the windows of the dilapidated Shinra Mansion, with nary a shock of lightning to be seen. Cold wind whistled through boarded up windows and flimsy wooden doors, creating a breezy mist over the rotting floorboards. Moss grew wherever it could, peaking through damp cupboards and creaking joints. The rusted bronze door knobs and gently swaying chandeliers gave a hint of the Mansion's former glory, if it hadn't been for the thick, filmy cobwebs.
"Vincent..."
The wind breathed like a sultry voice, contaminating the air with cold, and misery, and bitterness. Nature was given to being unforgiving when it came to Nibleheim, and tonight was no different. Usually the people would shut themselves away on nights like this, huddling around the fireplace and putting the radiators up high. They'd tell happy stories and look at pictures of bright, warm sunshine, before sleeping close together and trying to distract their minds from the Beast of Nibleheim.
"Vincent..."
The voice, like a cruel echo, fell upon pained ears. Curled on the floor in the feral position, he lay alone, and shivered violently as though he'd never stop. He whimpered into the damp floorboards as dirty nails scraped away at the soft, malleable, rotting wood. A tattered red cape was all that covered him bar the black rags, and long black hair splayed on the formerly varnished, oaken floorboards.
"Vincent..."
He could've sworn he heard her footsteps coming close to him, knee high boots with too many laces clunking on the floor. And then they disappeared with the next clap of thunder, flickering in and out of existence.
"Vincent..."
He swore he could feel the soft touch of her delicate, killer's fingers, pattering smooth trails of bliss all over his skin. It felt as though for a moment, he had some reprieve from the torturous cold. He felt for a moment, that he could finally feel once more.
"Vincent..."
The echo came with a gust of wind and a clap of thunder, taking the soft touch from his tired, broken skin. He could smell the scent of jasmine hair, and the rotten floor beneath him, and the rich earth beneath that. He could smell the scent of chemical torture through the years, and the pain he'd endured in this room. With a clap of thunder, it was gone again; as though some God was clicking his fingers.
"Vincent..."
He could feel her body above him, and the heat of her body on his skin. He could imagine her just above him, hovering like a dying angel or some poor imitation of a goddess or the echo of a beautiful bird.
"Vincent..."
A flash of lighting, and his glowing eyes could just make out a shadow of the woman above his squirming, writhing, shaking form.
"Vincent..."
The Beast of Nibleheim howled.
Well, always nice to start off this pair with a bang! A rather nasty bang, at that. They're just so prone to angst and horror and all things dark that it's hard not to. Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed it - please review if you've got time and follow for more. I look forward to seeing you all next week. Thanks!