Title: The Stars Fell Out Of The Sky
Author: daemoninwhite
Summary: Really, this was the third time today that a ridiculously attractive person had landed on him, and he was getting sick and tired of it. Of course, when you were Zack Fair, SOLIDER First Class, you got used to people throwing themselves at you, but these guys had fallen. As in, from the sky.
Disclaimer: I own the rights to none of the mentioned nor the implied texts. I do, however, own this, and if you see it posted anywhere and the author does not use the handle daemoninwhite, please tell me.
A/N: AU. Uh, duh. But, this wasn't even supposed to be FF7! Then my muse held up a cute little Zack-chibi who battered his big eyes at me and held out an even smaller and cuter Cloud-chibi and that was the end of me….
Really, this was the third time today that a ridiculously attractive person had landed on him, and he was getting sick and tired of it. Of course, when you were Zack Fair, SOLIDER First Class, you got used to people throwing themselves at you, but these guys had fallen.
As in, from the sky.
And okay, so, maybe the shy little blond hadn't been that heavy, and neither had the schizo redhead. Both had been shorter than him; even though the blond had been clad in a weird, silvery armour, he still didn't weigh too much, and the redhead … well, he wasn't wearing much of anything so no worries there. He suspected that the main reason behind their mysterious lack of weight (because no matter what metal that armour was made of, he knew heavy duty, war-worn armour when he saw it) was the fact that they had wings. Give him some credit, you don't become a First Class if you don't know how to use your brain, and for wings that size to carry guys their size aloft … well, either they were hollow or their bones were. He was banking on the latter.
To say that Zack's day had been crazy would be one of the biggest understatements ever uttered throughout the course of human history. It started off well enough, with a lazy, early morning call to his number one flower girl. The next thing he had known, he was coming round after being hit over the head, but instead of being greeted by the smiling face of a Wutai rebel as he had half-expected, his arms and legs had been attached to something cold and with really inconveniently placed ridges. To make matters worse, he couldn't move his head, so he had to stare at a really, really, really boring ceiling (he mentally gave them two cool points for the whole cave ensemble they had going on, but deducted five out of sheer boredom) for what seemed like forever as some weird music dipped and fell in the background. Even making obnoxious comments about the ambience of the dripping cave garnered no attention apart from an increase in the volume of the music.
It was then that things starting to get really trippy; the music gaining a hypnotic quality that almost made him accept the swirling, portal like thing that opened up above him. With what Zack would forever swear had been a perfectly audible 'clunk', the penny dropped. As a lifelong, abet secret, fantasy-sci-fi movie fan, he knew exactly what was going on now.
"Oh come on, death by ancient, devouring evil? That's never been done before…"
Just because Zack wasn't sarcastic often didn't mean that he didn't know how to use it. He had a great role model in his mentor Angeal, who had it down to a fine art.
It was then that the blond hit him square in the stomach, momentarily winding him. Sure, he wasn't heavy, but he had some serious momentum going (as though someone had flung him forcefully into the portal) that more then made up for it.
Course, had it only been the little guy, Zack would have been fine, but then a black and red blur decided that, clearly, his stomach was secretly masquerading as a trampoline, it just needed some encouragement to break the news to the rest of his body.
With the remaining three brain cells that weren't given over to either withering in agony or gasping for breath, he wondered if he relieved or terrified when a silver and black mess landed on top of the red, forcing both vaguely-human shaped blurs off his stomach and onto the ground. One good thing was the new slack in the rope binding him to what he now knew was an altar, at least now he could see, even if going by the look the silver haired… man was shooting him, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Huh. What do you know? It hadn't been music, he was actually important enough to require an entire choir, all dressed in identical black robes. Only now the entire group were bowing down to the silver guy, who's brief look of confusion was quickly hidden, as though he was used to this kind of overt worship.
Now they rose as one and shouted two words. He didn't get the second, it was clearly the name of Mr High-and-Silver, but really, what the hell was this guy if their opening gambit was 'hail'?
He was so fucking screwed if this guy turned out to be the soul-devouring type.
Wait, he knew that too-familiar hunched shape…
"Hojo…" he groaned. Zack was a champion groaner when it came down to it, he'd grown up with three siblings after all, "what have you done now?"
Hojo, naturally, looked scandalised at being insulted in front of what he obviously thought of as a god, and Zack mentally winced at how much pain he was in for during his next Mako transfusion if he survived all this. And, you know, still had the ability to feelpain and wasn't a drooling vegetable.
At least the silver-guy looked amused, but what came out of the guy's mouth next sounded nothing like any language he'd ever heard. It was something between the overwhelming roar of a waterfall up too close and the humming, ringing, above all else haunting chime that was made by the Lifestream at the places where it touched the earth. Hojo spread his hands, looking helpless but shooting infuriated looks at Zack from his semi-kneeling position.
"My great lord Sephiroth, one true Son and Heir of the Lady of the Stars, I beseech thou." Zack gave a very manly giggle when Hojo said 'beseech'; the only note anyone took of it was the slight tightening of Hojo's eyes. "I beg of thee-"
Hojo was cut off –thank Gaia and Odin and Tyr and the Norns and anyone else who felt like looking out for the fate of little, lonely SOLIDERS—by the little blond. The silver one –Sephiroth- had thrown the red one into him, knocking both of them down and locking them into what appeared to be a very embarrassing tangle of limbs. Now, however, the blond stood tall (although, admittedly, he wasn't), and having ditched the armour when Zack wasn't looking, was dressed only in a simple tunic like thing that somehow highlighted his youth. That illusion was somewhat shattered by the giant, blocky sword that he held in a simple, two-handed grip, and Zack had to swallow down any number of teasing questions as to what the blond was compensating for.
The blond howled, and for a few, breathless moment, Zack felt like the most despicable coward to ever walk the earth. Sephiroth simply smirked in response, murmured something derogatory in his storm-wave language, and turned to face the blond, completely ignoring Hojo, who, and Zack sniggered delightedly at his, looked like a spoiled child who had it favourite toy taken away.
With a complicated-looking flick of his wrist, Sephiroth summoned a absolute monster of a sword, and Zack was too busy trying to figure a way out of his restraints to pay attention to the three-way battle that was taking place across from him, the redhead having found his feet and summoned his own sword, an oddly red thing that fell somewhere between Sephiroth's and the blond's in terms of dimensions.
He had worked his hands free and was starting on his right leg when two, pain-filled shrieks distracted him, activating the heroic-impulses that Angeal carefully nurtured within him. The redhead was on his knees, his sword shattered at his feet, and his upper body bleeding, covered with scattered wounds that looked as though they had been inflicted by the shrapnel from the destroyed weapon. The blond … the little, delicate, boyish blond was on the ground, should visibly ruined, Sephiroth's sword pinning him to the floor by way of his stomach. Blood was welling around the wound, and Zack didn't need the voice inside his head that sounded a hell of a lot like Angeal to remind him that stomach wounds were one of the worst ways to go – slowly bleeding out as the acids from your stomach ate throw less protected flesh. He winced, instinctively trying to go to the blond to see if he could help, when he was pinned in place by reptilian green eyes and somehow looked so very confused. Sephiroth started to walk towards him, and Hojo tried to gather the tattered remains of whatever ritual he'd been trying to complete.
"I beg thee-"
Once again he was interrupted, only in a much more personal, fatal way. With an absent wave of Sephiroth's hand, the man's head … exploded. There was no other word for it, and Zack watched with no little glee as the man who featured in so many nightmares was finally destroyed by his own experiment. The choir flickered, and than vanished; Zack guessed that whatever science had summon them had been destroyed when Hojo had. Sephiroth snorted, causing Zack's head to whip back around, trying to keep this new enemy within his sight.
"What do you want?" A fair –haha, fair- question. Zack was proud of himself.
Apparently this hadn't occurred to the approaching man, who paused, poison eyes growing more confused. It almost seemed that everything about the man –gravity-defying fringe, tensed, black-feathered wing and shoulder-guards included- wilted slightly at his question.
"What … do I want?"
Zack jumped. "You can talk!" He blushed, reconsidering his hasty words, "I mean … uh, I can understand you? Why couldn't I understand before?"
Sephiroth shrugged, a liquid movement that caused his hair to swirl around him, distracting Zack. Damn this too short attention span! Angeal was right; he did have magpie in his genes somewhere.
"I did not want that …filth to understand me." Sephiroth's voice, appropriately deep for a man of his height, curled in disgust when he mentioned Hojo, eyes flicking slightly to the remains. He opened his mouth, about to say more, when the redhead interrupted him.
"Sephiroth, now that you're finished with your business, care to lend a hand?" His voice suited him, curling around Zack like a disdainful cat that was curious about the newcomer despite itself. Sephiroth snorted softly, and raised a hand. The redhead was briefly surrounded by a soft, green glow (a stunned part of Zack's brain whispered 'materia' in a poleaxed tone) and in the silence that followed the blond's pained whimpers sounded supernaturally loud.
Sephiroth glided towards them, hips and body working in a swagger that was too smooth to be entirely human, reached out and flicked his hand. The sword disappeared and blood welled up around the blond's unobstructed wound. He thrashed, body spasming as he began to bleed out in earnest.
"What do you want?"
Zack couldn't be blamed for being distracted, not really. He was too busy struggling out of the remaining ropes and frantically wondering whether he'd equipped a cure materia this morning to listen for Sephiroth's voice. "What?"
"We are bound to you. That thing offered your soul in return for power, we responded to his call and are therefore bound to you."
"Huh?" Zack's head snapped up. These … whatever they were, they were bound to him? So what did that mean for them if the blond died, and who cared, because he was not going to let some poor little kid bleed to death in front of him if he could prevent it!
"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess." It was the redhead this time, curled up on his haunches and licking a thumb absently.
"Well, if you're all bound to me, then what does that mean if you let that kid die?" Zack's voice was strangled, putting aside all other concerns for the moment. No matter what the blond was, Zack was not the type of man that would just watch a kid die.
Sephiroth and the redhead exchanged glances, the redhead's smirk as enigmatic as his guarded eyes, Sephiroth looking again confused. "If that is your wish." The words were weighty, as though they carried meaning that was beyond humanity's ability to decipher.
"I don't care, just save him!"
It was almost insulting really, how dismissive the wave of Sephiroth's hand was. The blond lit up, glowing the same colour as materia as he was cured. His whimpers silenced, the blond gingerly sat up, one hand straying to his discarded sword as the other pressed again where the entry wound had been, and what was now merely a large patch of slowly crusting blood. He glanced at both the others, the redhead giving him an ambiguous smile, Sephiroth looking at him blankly. Finally, summer-sky-blue eyes turned to Zack, and he almost felt as though he had been the one stabbed.
"Holy fucking Shiva…" Zack breathed. The entire universe lived, breathed, and died in those eyes, he could feel it.
"Why did you do that?"
For once, Zack couldn't find the words to answer the softly spoken, heartbreaking question. The wondrous, awed tone of the boy's voice made it plain that no one had ever bothered to make him feel as though he had the slightest worth before, and here was this complete stranger, making his personal Devil heal him. It was almost as though the boy was honoured to be given basic consideration; and it made part of Zack sink to his knees in sorrow as part of his view of the world was changed forevermore. The blond reached out a hand, and as though he was in a trace, Zack slid to his feet.
"ZACK!"
All four men jumped, the little blond's spell shattered by the over-loud shout that begged to be answered.
Zack smiled. Even when in the middle of a cave, facing when he thought might be gods, he knew Angeal's voice. "In here."
The shadow of the dark-haired man preceded him around the corner, his steps echoing in the silence. "Zack, what-"
Having begun speaking before he rounded the corner, Angeal was thrown into shocked silence as he took in the scene. There was his puppy, walking away from a primordial, stone altar carved with images of the Cetra, traces of rope burn showing on his oddly bare wrists and ankles. If that wasn't enough, in between the two of them there were three men, all sporting wings, and one covered in drying blood and the other two dressed in strangely familiar armour.
"Genesis? Sephiroth?"
"Angeal?"
"What are you doing here?"
The three older men spoke in unison, stopping short when they realised that they had. Zack flicked an amused glance at the youngest, trying to make him join in on the joke, but the blond was very determinedly looking down, hands twisting awkwardly in the few clean patches of his tunic. Already his hands were covered in the wet traces of his life's blood, and Zack looked away, feeling peculiarly queasy at the sight.
He then looked up, bright grin fixed on his face. "So, Angeal, you know these guys?" A casual flick of his thumb indicated the two standing winged men.
"I do." His mentor looked shaken, and Zack felt the first stirrings of real fear. If Angeal was scared, what chance in hell did he have? "They were my … summons, during Wutai."
The redhead –Genesis?- gave a bloodthirsty grin. "Good times. But why haven't we heard from you lately?"
"I've had no reason to summon the gods." Angeal's answer was shaken, soft, but irrefutably honest.
"Gods?" Zack would recall this moment later with shame, his voice hadn't squeaked that bad since the height of his puberty. "You three, are gods?"
"Cloud here is more of what you would call an apprentice, but essentially, yes. We are." Genesis indicated the silent boy with a quick jerk of his head.
"Wait … you can summon gods?" Zack thought that his brain just might be broken. "And you didn't show me?"
"I'm weaning you on Touch Me's first Zachary." Angeal sighed, reflexively answering a long-standing argument.
To Zack's delight, this comment made the silent Cloud let out a small giggle, Sephiroth relax slightly, and Genesis grin as though he had not only gotten the cream, but the little Carney too.
There was only one thing to do in response. Zack bounded forward, wrapping one arm around Cloud and pulling him to his feet, and he preened. "Yeah, well, I bet they were never bound to you."
Angeal answer flush and Genesis' grin made him want to run bleach over him brain.
Or rather, what was left of it after he forcibly shook the image of red, silver and black intertwined out.
A/N: Brief explanation:
Zack: SOLIDER First Class, only in this universe, Sephiroth was never created, so SOLIDER took a slightly different path. I have never played Crisis Core, but that's pretty much Zack's characterisation.
Angeal: ShinRa's Black General, in this fic, the Demon of Wutai. He wasn't created using the exact same process that he was in cannon, and therefore has more of Seph's canonical traits. Still had to adopt a puppy when ShinRa kicked up a fuss.
Seph: son and heir of Jenova/the Star Lady, aka, an alien goddess that has nothing whatsoever to do with Norse mythology and more to do with Cthulhu than anything else.
Cloud: representative of Tyr, Norse god of bravery, battle and swords. Tuesday is named after him. Think of 'godlyness' as an inherited title, Cloud would be kind of like the next in line, but not the current Tyr. An inherited title, if you will.
Genesis: Loki. No question. Actually tossed up between Loki and Thor for Gen, as it's noted that Thor was also 'flame haired', but I think his personality better matches that of Loki's. Trickster god, if anyone was wondering. Gah. Please ignore his characterisation – I'm pretty sure that it failed as soon as he opened his mouth.