So I tell myself, Lin, you gotta do your anthro homework, Dumblegalf's a madman! So I stumble online, crack open a formerly abandoned notebook for notetaking... and realized that daaaayum, this used to be a writing notebook! ...I typed up everything worth typing up to Word. Expect a few more updates.
And yes, I do have this fascination with rain.
Standard crap applies: I do not own ff7. Weepity.
[Rains of Despair]
When it rains the city is showered in the water god's tears and the sky is the color of his scales, an unmistaken silver grey. The river overflows, the twisted snake, and the hills of the far off distance shroud themselves with a cloak of heavy mist. The tiles of all the fierce red buildings' roofs are slick with water and oil and dust, and faintly ominous, thunder rolls overhead from the depths of the Great Leviathan's Belly.
It rained like this when Shinra attacked. It rained like this when her mother had died, when she left the city for her wanderings, the day she came back and her father had passed away in his sleep.
(Oh, Godo, you were supposed to live forever! Defy time, defy convention, reign as Lord Supreme and return the country to a glorious days! Immortals don't die of a cold or in their sleep, they die in battle with all the honor and dignity of a true warrior worthy of Leviathan!)
She stands in the courtyard in her finery clutching the Scale 'round her neck, allowing herself to become soaked to the bone. It hasn't rained like this in ages. It is the Rain of Despair.
Leviathan is weeping for his child, once more. He rumbles again, and the rain begins to fall even harder.
She falls to her knees, still in her finery in the courtyard, completely and utterly alone.
Vincent, Vincent.
He is long gone, had long ago taken a ship away to who knows where. Gone, gone – just like that, gone.
(You left me, but you're still here.)
The wind begins to wail.