I love chaos.
It obeys no master, answers to no judgement, withholds no secrets.
It travels the world inbetween beats of my heart, claiming everything and nothing.
Can I be with a force beyond my mortality? Will it accept me into its arms?
Chaos is both kind and vicious, tender and fierce, loving and unloving.
It binds the strong, releases the weak, upholds justice and destroys it.
It's the storm that tears away the forest and exposes the ocean beds.
It plants the seeds of the future and wipes away the past.
I love chaos.
But can it love me?
Stigma of Cocoon
A infectious lump of decaying flesh, an open sore, an oozing scab. That is what everyone thinks when they looked up into the sky and see it. It keeps the children crying late at night when they should be peacefully asleep. It gives fathers ulcers from never ending stress. It causes would be mothers to unnaturally abort the infants in their wombs.
That is what Cocoon is to the world below it.
There was no warning, no hint at its approach. It simply appeared that fateful day, high above the surface of the world, an unwanted second moon. People paniced and cried. Had Meteor come again? Was the enemy of all that lived not dead, once again on the hunt? They turned to their leaders, begging for reassurance. But what can be offered to them when there was nothing to offer?
For a year it remained, motionless. Anxiety passed, people calmed, and life returned to what it had been before. The large sphere in the sky soon began to fascinate, to attract a desire to understand the unkown, to explore. Large ships were built, attempts to contact it were made, and debates were held.
What was this wonderous marvel in the heavens?
Late one night, on the anniversary when peace returned to the world, hundreds upon hundreds of stars shot out from the orb, sailing across the sky at amazing speeds. Many stared in awe, the scene more beautiful and stunning than anything they had ever seen. One week later, on the exact day, the plague struck. Bruises that wouldn't heal appeared on the skin of many, black fluids oozing out like rotten blood. A touch was enough to infect, a month was what it took to kill. But it spread quickly, through touch and by breath. Like wildfire it ran across the entire planet, leaving cities of the dead behind. Cocoon had to be the source. Where else could the stigma had come from?
But it did more than just kill.
Those who didn't die tranformed into hideous monsters, figures of melted, twisted flesh, burning eyes and howling throats. They feasted on the dead, and then each other when no more sustenance could be found. Some grew large and powerful, others herded together like hounds and hunted in packs. Some could fly, others swam, all suffered from unending hunger. In a matter of five years, the orb dubbed Cocoon Of Death had killed almost the entire planet.
A small remnant remained of the human race, immune to the stigma or else having avoided all contact by sheer chance. Some wandered, others hid deep underground. Fang Oerba was a wanderer.
For years she had been wandering, not sure of what she wanted to find or even what it might be. But she never stayed still very longer. She had tried before and suffered for it.
As she walked the long, treacherous miles from wasteland to wasteland, she grew tried of seeing nothing but emtpy fields of dried grass and blowing sand. Her heart craved for green trees, blue skies and a yellow sun. But the stigma drained the entire planet of life. All was merely shades of grey.
Where to now?
It was that question she asked herself every day. There was no one to meet or talk to, and odds were that they would be just as deadly as the monsters that roamed the world. The remnant of humanity didn't trust themselves, killing a stranger as soon as they were in sight. Fang bore scars from sniper bullets shot from many hundreds of yards away without receiving any warning. But she couldn't blame them. Anyone could be carrying the plague. Why take the chance?
The nights were the hardest. A cold wind blew after sunset each day, a killing frost that forgave no one. Sleep was always interupted when the fire died down, needing more and more fuel. At least there were plenty of dead trees around for dry wood, but even that positive thought carried saddness in it. She would often times hug herself, trying to warm her body with its own heat. Most nights were spent awake. The thought of simply being alive was sufficient to keep her going. But how she wanted someone, anyone, to be with.
Craving that interaction drove her to talk to her sole companion, her staff weapon.
"I think that's Midgar over beyond the ridge." She said to it, increasing her pace to a jog. "At least what's left of it."
Fang had never been to the central city before, but heard stories from others who had dwelt there before the spread of the stigma.
"It's elevated, apparently. Sitting on a giant plate as though it's too good to be on the ground. Imagine what it must've been like, walking around knowing right below your feet was a twenty story drop!" Fang half laughed, glancing around at her spear which rested across her shoulders. "Think we should take a look?"
The red staff uttered no word in reality, but to her its answer was clear. "I know there might be Spawns. But they can be found anywhere. Maybe there might be some real food hidden in the rubble. I know I'm tired of raw root."
Though she could see the abandoned city at a distance, it took more than one day to reach it. She had to first cross a desert filled with stigma infected rats and other animals that had once lived in Midgar, but were know vicious beast wanting flesh to eat. Fang earned more battle marks, thin cuts and scraps from prodding claws and teeth. But she pinned many of them to the earth with one stroke, clearing a decent path for herself. When she finaly did arrived, it was the streets of the outter town of Edge that she wandered through, going from one house to another in search of anything that would help push her day of death further and further away. Fang found many boxes of jewelery, tossing them aside without even thinking twice. Gold and diamonds made for bad meals.
The hardest part of making her way through the belongings of complete strangers was that she soon got to know them. Fang would find letters, journals, pictures, clothes, everything that would reveal who the owner was and what they had been like. Family protraits hung often on the walls, water damaged, but still clearly visible. Fang would stare for hours at a time, looking up at the smiling faces of times past, then glancing down at the piles of white bones that they had become. The worst was when she saw that one body was missing and that the other bones had tooth marks on them.
"I wish I had died then." She whispered, for once to herself. Being the only witness of tragedy was a heavy burden to bear.
Fang moved on, carefully going through the cupboards, hoping to find some canned goods. She kept coming up empty. It seemed she hadn't been the first to scavenge the dead residences for a means to live.
Heavy breathing sounded from out the nearest window facing the street. It got her attention and curiousity got the better of her reason. She stealthly crept her way over to look, keeping herself out of view. Few were the things that breathed which didn't try to prevent others from doing so. Fang had learned that lesson the hard way.
A spawn was dragging itself along the edges of it's territory, making small grunting noises through it's large, gaping mouth as it made its way through the littered street. To Fang to looked like the upper half of a man, with only two arms to move about. But it was easily five times the size, any trace of humanity in it long since gone. It had one good eye which never stopped jerking about in every direction, no doubt searching for prey. Fang had little desire to fulfill its needs. True at times she wanted to die, but the desire to live was far greater.
Then squeaks reached her ears. Fang did her best to see what was the origin of the new sound, and the answer frooze her blood. Small, infected mice wandered about just on the other side of the wall, sniffing the air, catching a scent. Her scent. The mice often accompanied larger predators, eating the remains of whatever it killed. But they often assisted in finding it. If the spawn noticed their incessant noises, it would come and find the reason.
And it did.
With a moan it turned itself about, the eye fixed in her direction. Fang knew it could not see her, but also knew that the wall which seperated her and it was no protection at all. She remained completely still and silent. Maybe if it saw nothing it would leave. The spawn didn't move as well, but was propped up on its hands to get a better look. The eye blinked a few times, but remained the same color. Fang sighed in relief.
It unexpectedly charged with a sudden, painful wailing sound, using it's hands as feet to run wild, the eye now bright red in bloodlust. It had seen her! Fang knew to try and outrun it was to die. Spawns were quick as wind and still had the intelligence of a hunting man. That option was closed. Fang took a quick step back from the window, the oncoming monster mere feet away. She removed the crimson spear from it's sling and, with a strong heave, thrust it through the glass window and into the hungry beast. Black ooze spurted from it's wound on impact, the spear striking true. The spawn shrieked, falling backwards, failing it's arms about wildly. The mice, numbering in over three dozens, caught scent of fresh blood and attacked, swarming the dieing creature. Fang knelt down and covered her ears, trying to block out the death cries which sounded so human.
How she hated this dead planet!
An hour passed, the mice were gone, only wet bones remained. Her companion lay next to the carcass of the spawn, licked clean from any gore it had earned piercing it's target. Retrieving it, Fang looked about herself cautiously, seeing no other visitors who might have been within smelling distance of the kill. Spawns tend to gather wherever something died. Fang walked away without glancing back, not the first time having had used that technique. And she knew very well it wouldn't be the last.
Hoping her luck would be better in Midgar, she moved on, making her way over the large highways that went over and around the city. Many holes due to wear from the elements made it tricky. She never knew if the asphalt would hold or give way. More that once she had to leap to safety.
"What an exciting life we lead, eh?" She told her friend. "I was born for this. Endless running away, mutated flesh eating monsters and crumbling roads. What could happen next, I wonder?"
The answer loomed in front of her, an immense tower in comparison to the modest buildings around it. The Shinra Building had once been a symbol of the achievements of the world, now stood half collapsed, a skeleton of it's former glory. Immediately Fang's curiosity was picked. Maybe there was something of interest to be found there. Rumor had it the company which had once ruled the whole planet had many nasty secrets, most of which involved the death of innocents. The opportunity was perfect.
"What else can I do? It's not like daddy gave me a curfew." She smiled to herself.
However the traveling to the tower was no small task. From where she was, high up above the many houses and homes of former civilians, Fang could hear the snarls and growls of many spawns down below. At one time two of them began fighting, the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones clearly discerned. They still weren't done by the time she had walked out of ear shot. Fang found an exit and took it, avoiding large gaps in the road. Night was coming, and she still had hours before she reached the tower. It was time to find a safe place to sleep.
That turned out to be a dumpster filled with the last garbage put into it before the stigma broke out. After stepping in, the first half hour was focused on her trying not to throw up a large beetle she had found and eaten on the highway. Once upon a time she would died before eating anything with more than four legs. But how time changes everything. The dumpster provided shelter from the rain, masked her smell from predators and, ironically enough, was soft and dry enough to be comfortable. It was times like these Fang was glad no one was around to see her. Pride was something she was still remembered but hardly ever practiced.
The cold came again moments after dark, and soon she was shivering. But to make a fire was to attract unwanted attention. She would simply have to force herself through it. It helped to think of better days, times with her friends when they had large, delicious meals and large bonfires in the evening. Laughter. She missed that sound of children laughing as they played or when mothers sung lullabies to their babies. There was one Fang loved in particular. She hummed it softly.
"When the sun sleeps sound
When the moon is found
I will hold you close and never let you down
As the kitten yawns and we wait for dawn
I'll sing to you this song
Rest my child, close your eyes for awhile
You'll play outside again.
Let me kiss you, let me love you
Our peace will never end."
Fang felt something hot roll off her cheeks and touch her arm. She had begun to cry and hadn't realized it. Wiping them away, she muttered angrily to herself that it was too late for self pity. Far too late.
Soon drowsiness fell upon har and she drifted in and out of sleep. At times a noise would sound nearby and she would hold her breath. But it always moved on and she relaxed. The ability to remain alert even while trying to rest was vital. But as her stomach growled Fang understood that food was just as important. When the first ray of the bright grey sun peaked over the horizon Fang got up and out of the dumpster, starting her search once again. She went to a place which she though most likely to have anything to eat, a place she had walked by the night before on her way to find shelter. 7th Heaven it was called, some kind of run down bar.
The front door had been bashed in years earlier, her feet stepping on the rotten splinters of it. Overturned tables and broken glasses were strewn out everywhere.
"There was a fight here, long ago." Fang told her spear, observing a deep gouge in the floor made by a massive blade. "I'm willing to bet the person who owned this won the fight."
The skeleton in the corner, it's skull perfectly cleave in half, confirmed her suspicions. However, despite the mess, the bar itself seemed wholy undamaged. With a quick hop Fang cleard the counter and immediately opened the cabinets.
"Come on, come on. Let me get lucky just this once. Please give me a break here." She muttered, seeing nothing but empty bottles. She moved them to the side to see deeper into the cupboards.
"Yes!" She exclaimed.
Brandy. A fifteen year old brandy still half full in a respectfully large bottle. Fang was so happy she wanted to shout and hoot for herself, but knew that company would soon come blundering in to snack on her. Fang decided to go up the stairs she saw in the corner and enjoy her new found treat upstairs. The steps creaked horribly, and for a moment Fang was worried that if a spawn had made its way into the house and was using it as its den she might have just woken it up. She kept still, her spear in one hand, the bottle of liquor in the other.
Nothing. She moved on.
There was one open door at the top on the second flight, and two after the first. The one at the top seemed to frighten her for some odd reason, mostly because it meant anything could wander in. Closed off rooms tend to be safer. Fang chose the first door and walked in. The curtains were drawn and it was completely dark. Fang tried to open them, but they were so old they simply tore off, filling the room with dust. Fang coughed and coughed, cursing all the while. Couldn't she enjoy a drink in peace?
With sunlight filtering through the dirty windows she turned to get a better look at the room, jumping away when she saw two bodies lying in the bed. They had been dead for a long time, and it wasn't the first time she had seen the dead before. But she was unable to get used to the sight. From their decaying clothes she saw that it was a man and a woman, holding hands, facing each other. The word 'lovers' came to mind. A framed picture stood on the night stand next to the bed, that of a young man with blond, spikey hair and a long haired brunette. On the back it read 'Love forever, From Cloud for Tifa'.
Fang barked a laugh. "Cloud? Your name was Cloud? What, did your parents hate you or something?"
She stared back down at the couple. "Still. I guess you guys had something special. I wish I have someone to be with me when I go. That…would be nice."
Fang felt sad for a moment, then shook her head to clear it of those thoughts. "Who am I kidding? I've got some of your brandy to keep me happy, for the next few hours at least. Seeing how you guys have had the bed for the past few years…"
Grabbing hold of the blanket, Fang pulled the bodies off, letting them crash on the ground into pieces. She then leapt unto the bare mattress, putting her spear down and greedily hugging the brandy close "We'll say it's my turn."
The bottle opened with a hallow sound and soon she down several gulps. "Whew! I sure have missed that taste. You guys can certainly know how to treat a guest!"
And on it went. When she started Fang had ben completely aware of what was going on. But soon the alcohol got to her head, and she had never felt so carefree. She began talking loudly, talking to her spear, talking to the deceased couple, even to the bed itself, no longer caring. A shadow entered the room at one point, standing infront of her motionlessly. Fang began talking to it, offering it a drink, laughing as she poked fun at it, drinking away. Soon she felt her that her body was floating through the air, the sky spinning around above her. The sight made her stare blankly, her drunken stupor having taken full control. Her last conscious thought was that she was feeling the bottle slipping out of her hand and that she didn't care about anything anymore.