Okay, so this is just a little prologue to the story itself. Just make sure you know in advance, that this story is ANGST. Therefore, it will be written VERY ANGSTY. XD
Kay?
Anyway, the coupling will be eventual Leon/Cloud, Tifa/Aeris, and Riku/Sora.
DISCLAIMER: d00d! Gess wut? I dun pwn it!
(Leon POV)
Prologue:
A Means to an End
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It was one of those days. You know the type; the ones where the sun refuses to shine – hidden away behind the blankets of swirling storm clouds that shallow up any, and all traces of light. The days in which a dark, thick, depressing haze hangs in the air, contorted with the saddened emotion's of everyone around you, blending starkly with the down-cast atmosphere. The air, thick and muggy, yet somehow strangely refreshing, as it is before every major storm, when the scattered water droplets attempted to break through the haze; unorganized and fragmented as they fell without rhythm – dancing to their own tune.
It was one of those days.
Hollow Bastion had long since been left nothing but a pathetic shell of it's former self; fully succumb to it's underlying name. The once jovial, upbeat, and lively world now nothing but a quiet, desolate death-trap. While we had tried, and tried, to restore our the world, we eventually found it was in vain. There is only so much 'trying' a person can do, before their hope begins to dwindle on a thread. A worn, over-used, and thin thread.
While the Heartless dissipated from our world, we found that our problem's did not. Hollow Bastion was eventually cut off from all the other worlds, left to die alone, as it were. We were beginning to face the harshness of things like food shortages, unbending weather, lack of electricity, and general lack of hope altogether. The days were getting darker and darker, and our faith was being slowly eaten away, filling our hearts with a void doubt and corrupt hope.
Lately, however, I've been beginning to think 'What's the point'? I have nothing left to fight for anymore, and there is nothing more I can do to help ease the suffering of my comrades. I'm 26 years old, and I have no future. Pessimism begins to raise ever-more with our living conditions, when everything you've worked so hard to strive for, falls to pieces at your feet. Scattered, and broken, and then you're left with nothing but an infinite puzzle that will never be complete. Like I said before, there is only so much effort, and trying that someone can do before their flame begins to die.
Before their light begins to die.
Hollow Bastion is dead in the water. No amount of pitiful 'trying' could possibly change that now. We all had slowly come to accept our fate, though it was never voiced – but there was no way out. We were trapped here, in this now-dead world, and we had no way to leave anymore. World-travel was now impossible, forbidden, in a way. We had little resources, and there weren't that many living here.
There were about 100 of us, altogether; which was often sad to think about. Only 100 people, in an entire world?
But I should know by now not to be surprised. It was all inevitable.
Being with the fact that there were so little of people, we had taken to using only the East Wing of the castle, while generally everyone else tried to avoid the castle at all costs. They didn't want to be near 'ground zero'.
But as for our East Wing, there was more than enough space for us there; enough rooms to shelter us all at night, a couple bathrooms, a kitchen, a dinning room... Yes, Hollow Bastion was a gloriously spacious world, but it would by nice if we could actually have more people here to live in it. But I guess, what furthermore prevents us from using the entire castle and world is an entirely different matter.
When a world looses it fresh fragrance, beauty, and luster, it has a tendency to keep you from wanted to see the rest of it.
It's at this point that Aerith comes into my view, from sitting at the top of the East Wing staircase. The tiny light from the candle stick in her hands illuminates her face and torso, and I can't help but noticed how tired she looked, as her green eyes searched the top of the staircase, unable to see me due to the darkness I sat in. She calls my name though, knowing that I'm siting here, even if she can't even see me; because I'm usually here most of the time.
She tells me that dinner is done, and I don't answer her. I'm sure by now, she doesn't even expect an answer anymore.
Due to our lack of electricity now, we've resorted to using candles and spells to light our way in each room, though we don't have to use them until about 7:00pm, when the sun sets completely. It's only 6:30pm, now, and it's already pitch black outside from the storm, thus pushing to the need to to use our poor lighting materials.
Dinner was a routine – a ritual which took place everyday at exactly 6:30pm. It was a simple chance for all of us to get together, and have a sit-down meal, and enjoy what little food we had, because it was more than likely that there would be none for breakfast... or lunch. 6:30pm was generally the only time any of us ate, and half the time, we didn't even do that.
Aerith and Tifa prepared all of our meals, which were typically the same – we didn't have much to go by. It normally consisted of a vegetable stew, with, every once an a while, a few bite-sized pieces of meat for flavoring. Aerith, along with the help of Cloud, grew all of our fruits and vegetables in a small garden she had.
She once told me that nothing made her happier then successfully growing something. Just the simple knowledge that she'd created something – that a living thing couldn't survive without her assistance and care; it was enough to make her smile, even in the darkest of times. She had said that Cloud was originally the one whom had said that to her, long, long ago... but I can't picture it happening. It didn't suit him.
But then again, Aerith would never lie to me about something like that.
She was already long gone – back into the dining room, no doubt – by the time I finally rose to my feet at the top of the staircase, breathing in deeply as I leaned heavily against the dusty, carved oak railing, feeling the abandoned surfaced beneath my ungloved fingertips. I should probably tell Tifa about the dust build up, later. She seemed to have found some meaningful purpose in cleaning – the same purpose that Aerith, and apparently Cloud, get from tending the garden.
We all had our ways of passing off the days. It was obvious we needed a plan, of some kind – anything, but none of us had the simple will to follow through. Not even Aerith, the most optimistic of us all. I knew very well that she just put up that front, while, on the inside she was mis-used, confused, and hopeless like the rest of us. It was bound to happen, I knew, but it bothers me that I can't remember exactly when it was everyone lost their faith and will.
The heavy pattering of rain against the roof, and large windows, mixed with the sound of my boots scuffing against the tiled floor served as my hymn while I walked the empty, dark corridors. It's sad that I don't need light to know where I'm going in Hollow Bastion anymore, because everyday I have to walk the same path. Nothing changes, and nothing ever will.
We were simply a means to an end.