Author's notes: Hello! I am Carrot, and I'll be providing the story you are reading tonight/day/evening/whatever. Okay, so it's not really a story, it's a little something that came to me during church. Odd, I know. I wrote it down, and now here it is. By the way, this is my first FFVII writing of any kind to be published, so be a little gentle. I've played most of the games, and I've read about the others. So! Enjoy my little P.O.C.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII or any associated characters. I just merely borrowed them for a short time.
It was so easy, with a voice like honey whispering in his ear. Doubtless, when he woke in the morning, he'd hate himself, and spend half the day trying to prove to himself that it meant nothing. For now though, it was just so easy to surrender.
The other talked about it, his voice cool and persuading, confident in what it was saying. The gleam of purple violet eyes in the dark lighting, and a quick flash of white teeth of a smirk and the guilt and shame flash through him. Moments later, the eyes are focused otherwise, and the shame and quilt are gone. Still, the voice slides like honey, like a sickly sweet blanket.
The thing, they were doing, it really was a travesty, a sin. He didn't believe a lick of this scrap, and yet here he was, listening to it. The soft thrum of music was swelling, sweet notes, soft for love but the piercing quality spoke of sadness.
It really did concern him that it didn't take much to persuade him to come here for this. He didn't want this, or so he claimed, but here he was, allowing himself to be manipulated, again and again.
Of course, there was a small part of him that enjoyed it, he supposed. He enjoyed puzzles and riddles and so, on occasion, he would try to solve this one. Though no matter what he tried, he was left puzzled still. Trying to get comfortable, he winced. He really should learn his lesson, and the sooner, the better.
The curtain falls shut and the crowd applauds the hard work of cast and crew. Standing, Sephiroth winces at the muscles stretching, cramped from sitting so long in one position. Genesis is waiting, a rather irritating yet smug look on his face and he knows he'll be quoted at all the way back to the shared apartment complex.
He knows he'll nod and agree at the right times, and he knows he'll have the lines running through his mind all night, and he knows for sure he'll claim he'll never go again, which is just a load of bullshit. They both know it, too.
What he'll never admit, however, is how it makes him think. Makes him consider the possibilities, the potential. Genesis and he, never were, nor ever will be the best of comrades, but the man's cunning and intelligence cannot be denied. To him, it seems that Genesis knows what the rest do not. The infuriating play, seems to whisper half truths to him. Ridiculous as it seems, some of it rings true. Still, to him for the most part, it is simply a play with potential to warp lost and fanatical minds.
Angeal truly was lucky to have been away all day, with his student. He managed to escape the clutches of the travesty known as Loveless. Loveless always made it hard to sleep. Then again, when he did sleep, he dreamed vividly. Very vividly, though the only thing he remembered from said dreams was some voice calling to him, claiming to be his mother.
A.N. : So, Like I said, short little P.O.C. I hope you weren't too terribly disappointed. Let me know, okay? I may post more of my random crap here. Don't know yet. Oh, and any flamers will be sent to burn hospital bills, which are a bitch.
- C.C.