This is from Cloud's point of view
All he can see is smoke. Black smoke. Thick smoke. Blistering Smoke . Every one is screaming. His world is falling apart. People dying. Rock crumbling from beneath his feet. It's all so fast and he isn't sure what to do. The creatures are everywhere. Like an infection. Like a disease. Spreadingspreadingspreading. Kilingkillingkilling. Stealing heartsmindslivessouls. There isn't an end to them and they just keep coming. He's running, desperately looking for familiar faces not yet forced into oblivion. Everything's happening so fast and he's seeing but not understanding, like a child watching but not taking any of it in. It's all just a drunken blur; there before his eyes but too easily replaced by equally horrifying and confusing images. Sharp contrasts of innocent colors tainted by circumstances. And then it all just…stops.
It's like his world has been frozen.
The destruction and mayhem slows to almost a standstill.
The colors and grating sounds are muted until it is like he's standing in the middle of a picture, and it's all not really happening.
Wisps of mint green, so soothing, so calm and cool, so opposite the inky, pulsating tendrils of darkness.
They're reaching to caress him. Reassure him. Gathering him into their comfort. Telling him that everything will be…alright, we'vegotyou, there is no need to stumble anymore.
And then they're lifting, taking him far away from the madness. His eyes are closedwhendidthathappen and he's shutting out the chaos.
And after an eternity, he's gently set down on the cobblestone in the lightless town that needs people like him. Things will be different here. There will be no memories to haunt him. No faces to plague him. No voices to remind him.
But he's wrong.
They're everywhere.
The girl he lovedbutneverlovedhim, the one that died. Back. But doesn't remember. Just smiles that unknowing smile and pretends like she's trying to help him. Cause she doesn't know and she doesn't remember. And he could care less now because she's different, not the same girl anymore, and it ceases to mean anything.
And the ninja girl who's always movingstealingtalkinglaughing, as if none of it ever happened and everything is okay. She's the same as last time only she doesn't remember.
The foul mechanic who seems like he's been everywhere and lived too many lives. Too many personas, each one forgotten and replaced. Reacts like he shouldn't and says things he shouldn't know. Casually referencing people and places that aren't supposed to exist.
The manic man with the piercing eyes and putrid intent. Always chasing him, trying to kill him and hurt him. Differentyetsimilar than the other life that's starting to fade and yet be so sharp and heart wrenching all at the same time. Always trying to kill him, even though the offender can't remember why.
There's him. Dead. Gone. Sacrificed. But he has not vanished, yet hasn't been brought back as some carboncopyfakeimposter. Just faintly exists somewhere in-between. In his mind almost. Every once in a while speaking to him, telling him that it'll be okay, noneedtoworry.
And then there are those emptyshells that were supposed to be people from his past, from his other life, from that too real dream (fuckfuckfuck-he doesn't know what to call it anymore!). But there were too many differences between the originals and these remnants. They were even less of the same beings than the ones he livedassociated with. But at least they had an inkling. They knew they were missing something. They knew they had some other life they couldn't remember, some place they had called home, friendsfamilylovers that no longer remembered them. Maybe he was supposed to end up like them, what with his too vivid memory and aching chest.
He's screamingscreamingscreaming because he just doesn't know how to copecopecope! But on the outside he just looks irritated and frequently apathetic, never letting that anguish and torment out to be seen, because if he did then it would just pour out all at once in a terrifying rush and there'd be no way to stop it.
And it's overwhelming, threatening to consume him, going to swallow him up at any moment. It's always there, lurking in the back of his mind, pacing, biding its time, right under the surface, ready to lunge at a moment's hesitation. And the memories are constantly present, he just can't forget. And he just can't take it anymore!
Why is he the only one?! Why aren't any of the others plagued with these taxing scenes of tragedies past?! Why do they act like it neverhappened and don't question the emptiness? He just doesn't know!
He's always runningrunningrunning away, trying to keep it from others. His burden to bear.
He's in solitude, kneeling, clutching at his heart and head, not sure which one hurts more. Each pulsating in searingawfulripping pain, seeing only through a muggy curtain of beating red. And he's gaspingpantingkeening. Through the deafening white noise in his ears, akin to the furious rushing of the burning acid in his veins, is the sound of approach. He's looking upupup and off to the side is SquallnoLeon. Just watching with that expression of barely masked pain, the grief that only he can see every so often, for just a vulnerable second.
He's looking at him as if he knows. As if he understands.
Like he wants to help, but doesn't know how. Like he wants to but never let his guard down long enough to learn. Can't let go of his pride and protective wall. They're so alike, with their brave fronts and easily shattered mentalities.
And SquallcallmeLeondammit is looking at him as if he too remembers.
What the fuck?! Yeah, I don't know either. This is when their world is consumed by darkness and the 'lucky' ones are deposited in Traverse Town, where they're left to pick up the broken pieces.
The grammar is horrendous and the sentence structure is way off, but that's okay because that's how it's supposed to be. Any pointless flames will be devoured by Bahamut.