Silence, Bittersweet
Tranquility.
It was a feeling that he could not know. Anger – so volatile in it's own misery – rushed through his veins, battling with a ever present sadness that refused to surrender. His voice, long silenced, lamented of his way-ward feats... screaming silently across the heavens until it blurred into nothing more than white noise.
A painful sound, overwhelming, yet somehow... soothing.
Sleep brought no comfort to Genesis, nor did the gentle pressure of his prison. Instead, it served as a safeguard... a support. For if he needed to fall back upon something, only the heavy black of deep sleep could give him a relative state of peace.
If only for a hour, a minute... until the dreams came.
Water swirled gently around him, protecting a single feathered wing and brilliant auburn hair. Mako blue eyes gazed into the darkness that surrounded him, regarding it with a fragile calm. A calm that could be shattered upon a single thought.
Lips parted in thought, and a short breath escaped his lips. The man in red almost expected a panic, to feel the sheer fear of drowning – he'd experienced such a thing before. But none came. He breathed in the water, and felt no discomfort.
But he didn't feel relief either.
On one side, he was protected... black feathers curling around his body, jutting out from a scarred shoulder blade to hide it's owner from the outside world. But his other shoulder was deathly bare, his skin cold and hard where it should have been warm and soft.
"My friend, the fates are cruel..." The voice that was not his said.
Sky blue eyes opened once more, combing the room, searching for a pallid face and equally pale hair... a flash of white clothed in black leather, sea green eyes leering into the darkness. Watching, always watching. Never speaking a word of it's own.
Since when do you quote that blasted book?
A soft laugh echoed through the air, through stone and water and time. He could almost feel Sephiroth's amusement at his words, floating through him... teeming with a backwards madness. A madness that Genesis could relate to, if not replicate.
"Water doesn't suit you,"
Being dead doesn't suit you either.
The silence that followed was palpable, but toxic. It invaded his every pore, his very soul... until he could feel his friend shifting inside of him, pressing out on his prison until it began to drip and quiver as if in fear.
Droplets of water fell from the massive azure orb, turning to flame as they spiralled in the air, burning away any sense of calm they may have held. Sephiroth's anger devoured it, ate away at it, until it died, in a explosion of red and orange... the edges shaking heavily one last time – exhausted – before the last of it's force drained and it fell.
He hit the cold, stone floor of the cave like a ton of bricks, gasping in a not so subtle way. It was a waste of air. There was no relief gained from the essence that whistled down his lungs. Pain from the sudden impact had winded him, but Sephiroth himself seemed not to feel the pain – disregarding it and knocking it away lightly as if it were merely a pest.
Something volatile rose up between them, scorching through him until it was reflected in his eyes. The hot waves battled against the separate force – one much stronger than his own – failing to move the stubborn consciousness that did not belong.
"You wish to be rid of me?" Sephiroth asked, his voice monotone as the force of the impacts drained into nothing.
No more anger, no more pain. Just nothing. The world was suddenly empty, like a rolling plain that held nothing else but grass and rain for miles and miles. Genesis saw the clarity for what it was – nothing more than a hoax... a internal wall that spanned for miles and miles. On the other side, the battle still raged, clawing against the massive structure, breaking it piece by piece.
It was the kind of reaction to emotion that destroyed perfectly good people. It was the kind of reaction that caused already unstable men to go insane and slaughter a town full of innocents.
He could feel Sephiroth waiting, every thought been absorbed and mulled over – but these observations were behind the wall as well... guarded. It wasn't much different from any other time, when they fought and then they made up without even saying a word. But he had always thought that Sephiroth merely disregarded such things.
Again, amusement filled his mind.
Genesis stared into the dark abyss, watched the waves swirl just beyond reach. His fallen friend waited, ever silent, among the approaching storm.
No, I do not want to be rid of you.
There was a flash moment of surprise, a sudden sharp realization... and then nothing. For barely a millisecond, there was pain. It was hard to see, but Genesis wasn't exactly below the bar. His own curiosity stood on the side of the massive wall that had risen between them – a wall that just kept getting higher and higher – wondering how it could be scaled.
"...and why not?"
The silence was unbearable.
Why do you think?
The wall shifted, it's foundation sinking in the very earth, unstable as always. But it didn't fall. Genesis could feel the internal struggle that stretched, but he was blind, unable to gain meaning from it. Blocked out, disallowed.
But there was nothing wrong with such a occurrence.
At that, the water began to drip again. Iridescent drops of purity lifted into the air, flowing together and joining until the prison was once again whole... but the darkness in it was visible, the edges of it were stormy and turbulent.
The mass sucked Genesis in, pressing down on him with a different weight than it had before. Sephiroth's grasp was firm, his presence known, if not entirely welcomed. It buffered him, warmed him and yet chilled him, muted the world outside until it was nothing but white noise.
The silence that stretched in between the minds of the two men was tangible, comfortable yet at the same time bittersweet. Visions of duels and fields of gold filtered through his eyelids, filling his mind with a odd glow that lulled him and frightened him at the same time.
"Goodnight," a voice whispered.
"Good-bye, Sephiroth."
Then the thick black weight of unconsciousness surrounded him, and his way-ward friend was gone.