Disclaimer: I do not own the characters,locations, or items of Final Fantasy VII, they belong to Square-Enix.
Awaiting Judgement
I am suspended in the nothingness that is my own soul. Damned to spend all eternity in the void between life and the flow of souls. Never moving forward or falling back. I ponder my existance. I wonder what is to become of a creature so foul he could not rejoin his Cetra brothers in the Promised Land nor rejoin the Lifestream. I await judgement.
And I remember.
I remember the heat, the flames licking at my body, the screams of the innocent as I wiped their putrid lives from existance. I remember the looks of anger, betrayal, and terror in their eyes as I struck them down. I have never stopped seeing their faces. In my dreams they come back to haunt me.
I remember black-haired boy. What was his name? I cannot remember. Only his look of fierce determination as my Masamune slid through his flesh. He looked into my eyes after having been struck. There was no fear there. No anger. No hate. Only understanding.
Understanding? There is much I do not understand.
And the blonde haired one? I remember him. The confused young boy driven to near insanity by his hatred of me. I stabbed him too. Somehow, he did not die instantly. Perhaps he he had something none of them had. Some hidden strength I cannot fathom. I only ever truely felt fear in that moment. The moment his eyes narrowed and he grabbed my blade. He did not grab it helplessly as many have done, but with purpose. He forceably removed it from his own flesh. With strength I have never encountered, he flung me into the abyss.
For five years I traveled the Lifestream.
For five years I learned of my heritage, my power, my purpose.
I was the last. The last pure Cetra. The last of a great bloodline that went back for millenia. I swore to avenge my long dead brothers and sisters. Their blood...no, my blood was spilt by those who chose to abandon the ways of the Cetra.
Jenova, my mother, gave me a means to an end. I was to become what I was destined to be. I was destined to reign over those pathetic beings. Destined to be a god! She knew, too, that when I had finished, she would join the rest of humanity and creatures as one of my slaves. When I aquired my power she would no longer hold power in my mind, no longer be in my mind, no longer exist in every cell and atom of my body. I would punish her, make her crawl as she had me when I disobeyed.
Am I that heartless? I am still not sure.
Contrary to what is believed, I am not an emotionless shell of a man. I feel remorse for all those I have killed. They are my punishment. Their faces torment me whenever I close my eyes. Their screams of pain and anguish fill my ears, the stench of their burning flesh fills my lungs with every breath I take. I took those lives so that I may keep my own. There are no innocent people in the world, so the massacre of Nibelhiem may have been necessary.
It is my shame that I even was tricked into killing the other. The only remaining being who could possibly understand. Mother, you decieved me.
I cringe whenever I see the half-breed, the one with light brown hair and emerald eyes not quite as bright as mine. Those eyes, glowing green, a trait caused by her Cetra blood. Her face, beautiful, as if it were crafted by some being higher than I could ever be. Another trait of Cetra heritage. I never wanted to kill her. She was part of me. We were the same. I wanted her for myself, to help rebuild our once great race. Mother killed her. She showed me I can be controlled as easily as I control my own puppets.
My very being was thrown into the red that is the bottomless pit of rage. Anger flowed through my veins as if it were a replacement for my blood. From then on, nothing would stop me or stand in my way. I longed for the day I would cast Mother into the abyss, to denounce her control.
In the bottom of the crater to the north, I could no longer feel Mother. I was overjoyed. My destiny was finally becoming reality. My only regret was that I was not the one who taken the life from the loathesome creature that was my mother. Now, on the verge of becoming a new being, only one battle was left to fight. Only a rag-tag group of weak fools had enough false hope to attempt to foil me.
In hindsight, I had seriously underestimated them. My only triumph was being able to assault the blonde-haired boy's mind once again. In his mind I could see myself. I was privy to his every will and thought. Looking at myself through his eyes was an unforgettable experience. For the first time I could see the broken man I truely was. It was like waking up from a long nightmare, and discovering that all that had transpired in your dreams was real.
I was his child-hood hero. I was everything he longed to be. I was the image of honor and justice that helped a young boy through the hell of an unforgiving world and the various trials that life had thrown his way since. To him I was once a living example of courage and strength. I had shattered his perfect image of a hero.
I hesitated long enough for his enormous sword, the Ultima, to strike the very breath from my lungs, to spill the blood of his hero, to pilifer all feeling from my body. As my blade, the Masamune, fell from my unfeeling grip, I felt a sliver of happiness penetrate my cold expression before darkness took me.
I could see the madness at the end of my miserable life. I thank the blonde-haired one for ending the prolonged torment and denial I had placed upon myself. If I was no longer a hero to the many people who looked up to me then I would not be able to live with myself. So I await my own judgement. However long that might take
----My first fanfic to be posted on the net. Please review and tell me what you think. If you feel you need to flame me, please send constructive criticism only. Your opinions would be appreciated.
Awaiting Judgement
I am suspended in the nothingness that is my own soul. Damned to spend all eternity in the void between life and the flow of souls. Never moving forward or falling back. I ponder my existance. I wonder what is to become of a creature so foul he could not rejoin his Cetra brothers in the Promised Land nor rejoin the Lifestream. I await judgement.
And I remember.
I remember the heat, the flames licking at my body, the screams of the innocent as I wiped their putrid lives from existance. I remember the looks of anger, betrayal, and terror in their eyes as I struck them down. I have never stopped seeing their faces. In my dreams they come back to haunt me.
I remember black-haired boy. What was his name? I cannot remember. Only his look of fierce determination as my Masamune slid through his flesh. He looked into my eyes after having been struck. There was no fear there. No anger. No hate. Only understanding.
Understanding? There is much I do not understand.
And the blonde haired one? I remember him. The confused young boy driven to near insanity by his hatred of me. I stabbed him too. Somehow, he did not die instantly. Perhaps he he had something none of them had. Some hidden strength I cannot fathom. I only ever truely felt fear in that moment. The moment his eyes narrowed and he grabbed my blade. He did not grab it helplessly as many have done, but with purpose. He forceably removed it from his own flesh. With strength I have never encountered, he flung me into the abyss.
For five years I traveled the Lifestream.
For five years I learned of my heritage, my power, my purpose.
I was the last. The last pure Cetra. The last of a great bloodline that went back for millenia. I swore to avenge my long dead brothers and sisters. Their blood...no, my blood was spilt by those who chose to abandon the ways of the Cetra.
Jenova, my mother, gave me a means to an end. I was to become what I was destined to be. I was destined to reign over those pathetic beings. Destined to be a god! She knew, too, that when I had finished, she would join the rest of humanity and creatures as one of my slaves. When I aquired my power she would no longer hold power in my mind, no longer be in my mind, no longer exist in every cell and atom of my body. I would punish her, make her crawl as she had me when I disobeyed.
Am I that heartless? I am still not sure.
Contrary to what is believed, I am not an emotionless shell of a man. I feel remorse for all those I have killed. They are my punishment. Their faces torment me whenever I close my eyes. Their screams of pain and anguish fill my ears, the stench of their burning flesh fills my lungs with every breath I take. I took those lives so that I may keep my own. There are no innocent people in the world, so the massacre of Nibelhiem may have been necessary.
It is my shame that I even was tricked into killing the other. The only remaining being who could possibly understand. Mother, you decieved me.
I cringe whenever I see the half-breed, the one with light brown hair and emerald eyes not quite as bright as mine. Those eyes, glowing green, a trait caused by her Cetra blood. Her face, beautiful, as if it were crafted by some being higher than I could ever be. Another trait of Cetra heritage. I never wanted to kill her. She was part of me. We were the same. I wanted her for myself, to help rebuild our once great race. Mother killed her. She showed me I can be controlled as easily as I control my own puppets.
My very being was thrown into the red that is the bottomless pit of rage. Anger flowed through my veins as if it were a replacement for my blood. From then on, nothing would stop me or stand in my way. I longed for the day I would cast Mother into the abyss, to denounce her control.
In the bottom of the crater to the north, I could no longer feel Mother. I was overjoyed. My destiny was finally becoming reality. My only regret was that I was not the one who taken the life from the loathesome creature that was my mother. Now, on the verge of becoming a new being, only one battle was left to fight. Only a rag-tag group of weak fools had enough false hope to attempt to foil me.
In hindsight, I had seriously underestimated them. My only triumph was being able to assault the blonde-haired boy's mind once again. In his mind I could see myself. I was privy to his every will and thought. Looking at myself through his eyes was an unforgettable experience. For the first time I could see the broken man I truely was. It was like waking up from a long nightmare, and discovering that all that had transpired in your dreams was real.
I was his child-hood hero. I was everything he longed to be. I was the image of honor and justice that helped a young boy through the hell of an unforgiving world and the various trials that life had thrown his way since. To him I was once a living example of courage and strength. I had shattered his perfect image of a hero.
I hesitated long enough for his enormous sword, the Ultima, to strike the very breath from my lungs, to spill the blood of his hero, to pilifer all feeling from my body. As my blade, the Masamune, fell from my unfeeling grip, I felt a sliver of happiness penetrate my cold expression before darkness took me.
I could see the madness at the end of my miserable life. I thank the blonde-haired one for ending the prolonged torment and denial I had placed upon myself. If I was no longer a hero to the many people who looked up to me then I would not be able to live with myself. So I await my own judgement. However long that might take
----My first fanfic to be posted on the net. Please review and tell me what you think. If you feel you need to flame me, please send constructive criticism only. Your opinions would be appreciated.