Soo
this was inspired by the scene in which rufus throws Jenova down the building and Kadajs pupils are shown to become slits. i always wondered if they shouldnt be slits all the time...
It was raining. A raindrop fell onto Kadajs outstretched hand, leaving a little dark dot for a moment.
He brought his palm closer to his eyes, watching the dot disappear slowly.
If only the rest would disappear too... His arm fell limp by his side and he stared blankly out of the window frame again.
The wind howled through the building, abandoned, a significant number of it's windows lacking glass.
In the distance low thunder rumbled.
The other two were in one of the drier warmer rooms, sleeping; for it was late- or rather, early.
Kadaj stared and stared into the darkness and the faint sheen of the rain, seeing ghostly pictures what were memories of other people. He listened attentively, watched, tried to make a sense out of it all.
He preferred the not-memories. The orders always hurt him, mother screaming in his head and pushing, urging, wanting.
And then it were orders without any explanation. He had long learned that she would get mad when he was asking; so when the others - his brothers could not hear her quite as clear, and the other people they would convert even less - were questioning the orders he gave them he had to explain to them.
Things he actually did not know. But what mother said was true, right...
The headache. He could still feel the sensation behind his eyes, cotton wool, but it was better than feeling how his own brain turned into semolina pudding.
Out in the rain a longhaired man walked into flames and the whisper turned to fey voices.
Kadaj slowly blinked and moved his left hand to his right shoulder. The illness hurt. Mother had said it was the planet who did it, because they were special - that was her usual reasoning, the words with which she would coax him when he felt like maybe he should bring up his sword half a second later.. - but he knew humans had it too. Why would their own planet hurt them? Maybe it was the two different types of life that didn't go along well.
The humans hurt by mother, he and his siblings hurt by the lifestream.
It was all a matter of hurting, and he (could) hurt.
He knew they were being used -
for the right purpose, of course. It was important what they
were doing...
Just what would happen after it all, he didn't know.
In the back of his head he, the part of him that still was himself,
forced into a far end to keep him from the iron tentacles, thought
what would happen after "it" didn't matter to him anyways.
Because... because...
He stopped that thought. The images in the
rain were gone but he could feel the light pulling again - though
'light' was a word that only partially fit, but it was better than
gentle, soft, careful, smooth, meek... stop! - that indicated
Jenova wanted him to move on, to get going. Act.
Jenova. Mother.
How she had screamed when he had called her that, once. How Loz
had stared at him yesterday, hours before and told him his eyes were
weird somehow. Then the headache had started.
Something was missing here.
