Prologue
The cold, sweet morn' of that crimson touched city, blossomed as my eye looked onward and watched. It was that feeling, of slow, but sure healing... That cold wind wouldn't linger here much longer. The once black sky finally released its assemblage of magnificence upon that once shallow land, I could only remember to be as Midgar.
But this was the Picturesque Midgar, not rough or bland; dead and malicious. It was a fitful home, my home. A place much more gorgeous than a coffin, for me to bask in sorrow and pain. Here, and now is where I belong, not in a coffin, just here.
Where the implosion of a company, replenished a city of lost dreams, of slums and mansions. This was my Holy Land, my temple and forever-dwelling place.
This was my home, amongst the flowers where no place else could be more bountiful. This was my ground, and my love.
This was my Midgar.
_____
Ù
That glorious morning chill sent a sense of relief again, in the common sequence of things, it seems. Just about when that sun rises over those hills that stood behind those endless plains of green. A surge, a huge engulfment of wind, whose only purpose was to send that beautiful cold through my fingertips once more, those blistered fingers that still could feel that sudden shift of wind, only to then touch my face, just like always.
It was for months now, that wind would always put that willingness to work just one more day, and then again to continue on the day, which followed after that. It was like warmth to me, but instead meant to only keep me aware, alert, and ready for that constant foe. That replicating force of lacking stratagem would never grow in intelligence, but within numbers.
Yes, monsters, the foe that man did create. Now, even with those reactors destroyed, and the lunatic experiments of Hojo's or anyone else dealing with mako fusion, now and forever prohibited, throughout the land of where the Lifestream would flow, rivulet to rivulet; monsters still appeared everywhere. Without any evident reason, just still alive, and apparently vindictive.
Yes, vindictive, and very much truculent. Like the previous bellicosity of their natural visage wasn't enough, as if we delighted in the contentious hell they would proliferate. Hence my blistered fingers, and my scarred back and face, all examples of imp brutality. They'd usually hide within the sewers of the city, now having an expedition crew gallantly marching through that revolting green water, with scarcely infested rats to accompany them. I, on the other hand, deplored at that disgusting escapade of human refuse, searching for my kobold, hardly ever victorious.
I chose to be more effective, more useful, and not as servile. Yes, my job was to hunt, and kill monsters (again, not so depreciatively as the Crusading Plumbers-I appreciate that redeeming quality of air). It was to protect my home, a place I am quite fond of. I watched the streets, patrolling like an officer, especially among the rebuilding sites where such large beams of healing could be seen, and those brave workers working blissfully in the morning's breeze, that I love so much.
It was common to see one, menacingly prowling around the city, yet today, not so much. For months have pasted, now becoming slower, favorably slow. Not fast, and harsh while dolefully awaiting the next strike of pointless imps; the next move on that philosophical chessboard.
I wasn't going to wait for them to move first.
Feinting anything off alone is hard. But with numbers, that is to do this job with much ease. I was a leader of a team, a nameless force. We never thought of one, strangely never thought to, since we hardly knew each other, something like a name is hard to fathom with a myriad of strangers. There is some commonality between them, they each are fighters, so determined, that without a leader, they'd end up killing each other. Odd? Yes, they are, but I admire an ardent heart.
Lusus Naturae, that is what they are, and forever will be, the abomination of the Planet. But, ridding the world of such unorganized terroristic threats had been somewhat primitive; a simple sentence, really. Seek, find, and kill- yes, simplicity in the most violent way. Now, that was the true purpose of that forceful blast of wind, just to remind me, while it would slightly push, always be ready-for anything.
At least they were, that was apparent as the stars that could be seen clearly within the vast openness of the firmament. Yes that now visible sky could actually be seen in Midgar, even better by my home.
It was the building where the Shinra would work continuously, always bathing within that corpulent amount of money. Yet, it didn't feel extravagant or luxurious at all. Since the Meteor incident, the building was thought to be ruined, which it was. It was a architectural disaster, probable to topple at any moment, at any time. But, the demolition workers, in their lassitude, left it to fall in its own gravitational inclination or collapse. They are still trying to predict the time of collapse, still unknown. So, in my current homelessness, I decided to take advantage of this massive shelter, only to think of it as nothing more, but as shelter.
As you could see, I do not possess a greedy heart, only servility exists. That, as you could predict, not very lucrative or even pertaining to prehensility. So, within that room, which was the top floor is that elevator, still functional, and if ever to fail; I'd take the stairs, anyway. The red carpet, whose vibrant color faded with the coloring and covering of dust and debris, still scattered in every direction of its territorial limits. The smell, when entering, is stark with a still dwindling amount of dust, still on the endeavor of gravity. The gravity would pull it gently from the ceiling plasters, which over them, contains those little fragments of dust, and ash accompanied by anything that dwelled within that room over the past few months, miscellaneously composed.
Next was that staircase, with those marble stairs that was once prestigiously fabricated by carpenters, only now falling apart. Each step was originally fused together with the metal undercoating, but now the adhesive was no longer strong enough to hold each marble board; there only remained the steel undercoat, now collectively attracting dust and airborne materials.
Yes, it was dark. And it was just that, dark. Though the vivid chandler that held those small, but intricately designed crystal droplets (I have affectionately called them). They'd only light with the coming of that fiery blaze relentlessly rising and falling, unremittingly entering the still solid glass windows, directly touching the crystal chandler. Ultimately creating that magnificent glory of light through the quartz, bouncing back on, and off each other. Then creating an avid display of coloration in every direction-yet not so blinding.
There was beautiful taste in the rich, yet greed causing the downfall of overly immoral gluttony, otherwise known as Shinra. There were things that were reminiscent of that monopolizing business, like the painting of the late President, a name I fail to recall. He was smiling, as if proud, yet showing that slight hint of gluttony, in more ways then one...
His smile devilishly embroidered upon that painting. His eyes were strong, yet exhibiting some other story of vagrancy, but not by residency, but by establishment within his own heart, like he was trapped, trapped within himself, and forgotten. The border was ostentatious, beautifully conceived in gold and silver; twisted together like ripples of water, touching each other in harmony: yet not becoming heterogeneous, like white and black.
Next to that painting, is the much younger president, his son. I could remember him only once, only watching him follow directly in the imprisoned man's direction of leadership, and only to fall by his own creation; just like his father. I'd usually think about it, slant my head, and whisper, How sad. Then listen to the echoes of my voice, creating a copious crescendo of voices. All whispering in unison, how sad.
I'd simply think to myself. Truly, that was an understatement. I would occasionally forget the word 'huge.'
The bright light of that continuance of luminosity and fire would then usually get my attention, bringing me back here. To where I first spoke. By how? Haste and legs, of course! Why? To start my day early, for I always woke to see that morning, and every other morning that followed.
I had come to love the morning, as well as the night. Only to smile at it, while blissfully touching the passing breeze of every fateful morn, only to again feel that chill, once again giving that sense of relief...
Yet, that sweetness and enjoyment would soon diminish throughout the day, only to put me back in my home. But, that moment is the moment I would have to work for, time doesn't flow as easily for the children that would play outside, within the long streets, either in rubble, or just newly rebuilt.
I lived for those children, and someday die for them too. It wasn't a sad thought for me, to be remembered by those little men and women of Midgar, to be remembered. That thought was worth living, the only reason for living. Except that beautiful morning, and that starry night.
Starry night... The city could be so dark, so empty, so silent. Not now of course. It was filled with men once of past riches, and of once meager salaries. Yet, no one was a pauper, as hard as it was to believe. Even the once snooty nobles of Midgar could only be thought as gentlemen, according to its definition. 'A man of independent means who does not engage in any occupation or profession for gain.' Yes, that could describe almost every man that lived in this city. They were charitable.
They believed in community, and so far, I could only see it working. But, it was strange, perhaps even to a higher degree, eerie. How could such kindness exist? In such a once distasteful city, how could such a reform occur?
Everyone in the city could answer that, dolefully. Only remembering the past so accurately, remembering what they were. Blithe and zealous in their own distorted way of life, not caring for anybody but themselves, even in the slums, but mostly in the rich sectors of Midgar-the ones that don't exist anymore.
Foreigners would commonly approach citizens with such interest. Either creating another smile, or causing a laugh, or giggle. Still, compliments no matter how great or small, could rebuild the city, they learned that on the day of Meteor. They learnt it.
They remembered it.
The prostitutes, the paupers, the children, their fathers, the mothers, and the brothers; all their hearts came together. Not like destroyed buildings, whose support no longer exist. They became a bastion, a one person.
All working together, rebuilding their home, the only home for them. Each one, either with a hammer; working determinedly on their own shelter, or someone else's. All awake to feel that glorious breeze one more day, either swirling through their shirts, or against their peaceful smiles.
Just like me. Easily satiable, by that cold, but warm wind, gently passing by, spreading it's delightful appeasement to the contiguous. Blowing anything, and everything into some joyous rhythmic beat, not by sound, but by emotion.
It was appreciation, manifest and proudly displayed. Something quite rare in the once existent Midgar. It was hope in its brightest appearance. Not by works, but by personality. There was no more pain, by words or of hunger.
Just happiness, at least for now.
Sometimes I'd wonder upon that gleeful breeze, would this last? Would a city ravaged by guilt and destruction have the same mentality years from now? I'd usually think it, over the city, on this rooftop that I sit before now. I was watching my friends, my home eagerly go on, time never stopping for them, and them never stopping for time. And yet again, that breeze did come by...only slightly pushing, reassuring me to not worry...
We cannot change the future.
Only make the here and now, worthwhile...
She'd usually say that, as I'd wonder, or ask the question to that answer. The brunette strands, much longer now, lengthy and beautifully youthful, would do this swift and swirl movement. Like the morn' breeze, she'd just appear by my side, to only grip my hand and say that song, without even singing.
I love you, my Valentine. Don't forget it. That was her greeting every morning, just a few moments after that breeze... Please Vince, don't ever forget. She'd ask that of me, constantly, aggravatingly. Like every 'I promise,' wasn't believable. Like I had lied to her, and again, and again. She knew I wouldn't, but she wouldn't except that, nor would she except anything else. There was no comforting her, she was the only worried person in Midgar.
She was never without worry, and I loved her for it. Another way to show me her love, I supposed. She'd sequentially kiss me after the two sentences of apprehension, then put her arms around me. So softly, so small. I'd turn to hug her, the smell of the monster infested plains would rise in my nose. The smell of speed, fast and furious speed would arise from the silky hair, only to be touched by my metal claw.
Just always remember that I love you, okay? Is that hard, Vince? I'd comfort her to the limit of comfort. Something I could only leave to what you're imagination. As I'd let her go, it was those eyes, those eyes of brown nectar that only wanted me to hold her again, on that rooftop, looking onwards to the future, feeling that passing breeze.
You remember that I love you, too. The sun and the moon could only relate, in incessant harmony. Each one, complimenting each other's territory of firmament, in a constant relationship, only to be thought of as love. Except, she was the sun, I was the moon. She was the dominant reason for breathing, for she was my breath.
She and Midgar, both queens of my heart.
Princesses of my soul.
___________________________________________________________________
"I will always remember," her voice fell silent in that stillness only to be known as she fell back to that place, where she came. Heaven opened its arms for her, as I screamed in utter agony.
"Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me!!" But her eyes rolled back, as she exhaled her last breath. "Yuffie! Oh no! Yuffie!!" Those eye's dim brown light died within my arms, grabbing her so hard, sobbing so much.
"Come back, please come back." I was whimpering, the plains had already echoed my roar for return, but there wasn't any.
She wasn't coming back.
The cold, sweet morn' of that crimson touched city, blossomed as my eye looked onward and watched. It was that feeling, of slow, but sure healing... That cold wind wouldn't linger here much longer. The once black sky finally released its assemblage of magnificence upon that once shallow land, I could only remember to be as Midgar.
But this was the Picturesque Midgar, not rough or bland; dead and malicious. It was a fitful home, my home. A place much more gorgeous than a coffin, for me to bask in sorrow and pain. Here, and now is where I belong, not in a coffin, just here.
Where the implosion of a company, replenished a city of lost dreams, of slums and mansions. This was my Holy Land, my temple and forever-dwelling place.
This was my home, amongst the flowers where no place else could be more bountiful. This was my ground, and my love.
This was my Midgar.
_____
Ù
That glorious morning chill sent a sense of relief again, in the common sequence of things, it seems. Just about when that sun rises over those hills that stood behind those endless plains of green. A surge, a huge engulfment of wind, whose only purpose was to send that beautiful cold through my fingertips once more, those blistered fingers that still could feel that sudden shift of wind, only to then touch my face, just like always.
It was for months now, that wind would always put that willingness to work just one more day, and then again to continue on the day, which followed after that. It was like warmth to me, but instead meant to only keep me aware, alert, and ready for that constant foe. That replicating force of lacking stratagem would never grow in intelligence, but within numbers.
Yes, monsters, the foe that man did create. Now, even with those reactors destroyed, and the lunatic experiments of Hojo's or anyone else dealing with mako fusion, now and forever prohibited, throughout the land of where the Lifestream would flow, rivulet to rivulet; monsters still appeared everywhere. Without any evident reason, just still alive, and apparently vindictive.
Yes, vindictive, and very much truculent. Like the previous bellicosity of their natural visage wasn't enough, as if we delighted in the contentious hell they would proliferate. Hence my blistered fingers, and my scarred back and face, all examples of imp brutality. They'd usually hide within the sewers of the city, now having an expedition crew gallantly marching through that revolting green water, with scarcely infested rats to accompany them. I, on the other hand, deplored at that disgusting escapade of human refuse, searching for my kobold, hardly ever victorious.
I chose to be more effective, more useful, and not as servile. Yes, my job was to hunt, and kill monsters (again, not so depreciatively as the Crusading Plumbers-I appreciate that redeeming quality of air). It was to protect my home, a place I am quite fond of. I watched the streets, patrolling like an officer, especially among the rebuilding sites where such large beams of healing could be seen, and those brave workers working blissfully in the morning's breeze, that I love so much.
It was common to see one, menacingly prowling around the city, yet today, not so much. For months have pasted, now becoming slower, favorably slow. Not fast, and harsh while dolefully awaiting the next strike of pointless imps; the next move on that philosophical chessboard.
I wasn't going to wait for them to move first.
Feinting anything off alone is hard. But with numbers, that is to do this job with much ease. I was a leader of a team, a nameless force. We never thought of one, strangely never thought to, since we hardly knew each other, something like a name is hard to fathom with a myriad of strangers. There is some commonality between them, they each are fighters, so determined, that without a leader, they'd end up killing each other. Odd? Yes, they are, but I admire an ardent heart.
Lusus Naturae, that is what they are, and forever will be, the abomination of the Planet. But, ridding the world of such unorganized terroristic threats had been somewhat primitive; a simple sentence, really. Seek, find, and kill- yes, simplicity in the most violent way. Now, that was the true purpose of that forceful blast of wind, just to remind me, while it would slightly push, always be ready-for anything.
At least they were, that was apparent as the stars that could be seen clearly within the vast openness of the firmament. Yes that now visible sky could actually be seen in Midgar, even better by my home.
It was the building where the Shinra would work continuously, always bathing within that corpulent amount of money. Yet, it didn't feel extravagant or luxurious at all. Since the Meteor incident, the building was thought to be ruined, which it was. It was a architectural disaster, probable to topple at any moment, at any time. But, the demolition workers, in their lassitude, left it to fall in its own gravitational inclination or collapse. They are still trying to predict the time of collapse, still unknown. So, in my current homelessness, I decided to take advantage of this massive shelter, only to think of it as nothing more, but as shelter.
As you could see, I do not possess a greedy heart, only servility exists. That, as you could predict, not very lucrative or even pertaining to prehensility. So, within that room, which was the top floor is that elevator, still functional, and if ever to fail; I'd take the stairs, anyway. The red carpet, whose vibrant color faded with the coloring and covering of dust and debris, still scattered in every direction of its territorial limits. The smell, when entering, is stark with a still dwindling amount of dust, still on the endeavor of gravity. The gravity would pull it gently from the ceiling plasters, which over them, contains those little fragments of dust, and ash accompanied by anything that dwelled within that room over the past few months, miscellaneously composed.
Next was that staircase, with those marble stairs that was once prestigiously fabricated by carpenters, only now falling apart. Each step was originally fused together with the metal undercoating, but now the adhesive was no longer strong enough to hold each marble board; there only remained the steel undercoat, now collectively attracting dust and airborne materials.
Yes, it was dark. And it was just that, dark. Though the vivid chandler that held those small, but intricately designed crystal droplets (I have affectionately called them). They'd only light with the coming of that fiery blaze relentlessly rising and falling, unremittingly entering the still solid glass windows, directly touching the crystal chandler. Ultimately creating that magnificent glory of light through the quartz, bouncing back on, and off each other. Then creating an avid display of coloration in every direction-yet not so blinding.
There was beautiful taste in the rich, yet greed causing the downfall of overly immoral gluttony, otherwise known as Shinra. There were things that were reminiscent of that monopolizing business, like the painting of the late President, a name I fail to recall. He was smiling, as if proud, yet showing that slight hint of gluttony, in more ways then one...
His smile devilishly embroidered upon that painting. His eyes were strong, yet exhibiting some other story of vagrancy, but not by residency, but by establishment within his own heart, like he was trapped, trapped within himself, and forgotten. The border was ostentatious, beautifully conceived in gold and silver; twisted together like ripples of water, touching each other in harmony: yet not becoming heterogeneous, like white and black.
Next to that painting, is the much younger president, his son. I could remember him only once, only watching him follow directly in the imprisoned man's direction of leadership, and only to fall by his own creation; just like his father. I'd usually think about it, slant my head, and whisper, How sad. Then listen to the echoes of my voice, creating a copious crescendo of voices. All whispering in unison, how sad.
I'd simply think to myself. Truly, that was an understatement. I would occasionally forget the word 'huge.'
The bright light of that continuance of luminosity and fire would then usually get my attention, bringing me back here. To where I first spoke. By how? Haste and legs, of course! Why? To start my day early, for I always woke to see that morning, and every other morning that followed.
I had come to love the morning, as well as the night. Only to smile at it, while blissfully touching the passing breeze of every fateful morn, only to again feel that chill, once again giving that sense of relief...
Yet, that sweetness and enjoyment would soon diminish throughout the day, only to put me back in my home. But, that moment is the moment I would have to work for, time doesn't flow as easily for the children that would play outside, within the long streets, either in rubble, or just newly rebuilt.
I lived for those children, and someday die for them too. It wasn't a sad thought for me, to be remembered by those little men and women of Midgar, to be remembered. That thought was worth living, the only reason for living. Except that beautiful morning, and that starry night.
Starry night... The city could be so dark, so empty, so silent. Not now of course. It was filled with men once of past riches, and of once meager salaries. Yet, no one was a pauper, as hard as it was to believe. Even the once snooty nobles of Midgar could only be thought as gentlemen, according to its definition. 'A man of independent means who does not engage in any occupation or profession for gain.' Yes, that could describe almost every man that lived in this city. They were charitable.
They believed in community, and so far, I could only see it working. But, it was strange, perhaps even to a higher degree, eerie. How could such kindness exist? In such a once distasteful city, how could such a reform occur?
Everyone in the city could answer that, dolefully. Only remembering the past so accurately, remembering what they were. Blithe and zealous in their own distorted way of life, not caring for anybody but themselves, even in the slums, but mostly in the rich sectors of Midgar-the ones that don't exist anymore.
Foreigners would commonly approach citizens with such interest. Either creating another smile, or causing a laugh, or giggle. Still, compliments no matter how great or small, could rebuild the city, they learned that on the day of Meteor. They learnt it.
They remembered it.
The prostitutes, the paupers, the children, their fathers, the mothers, and the brothers; all their hearts came together. Not like destroyed buildings, whose support no longer exist. They became a bastion, a one person.
All working together, rebuilding their home, the only home for them. Each one, either with a hammer; working determinedly on their own shelter, or someone else's. All awake to feel that glorious breeze one more day, either swirling through their shirts, or against their peaceful smiles.
Just like me. Easily satiable, by that cold, but warm wind, gently passing by, spreading it's delightful appeasement to the contiguous. Blowing anything, and everything into some joyous rhythmic beat, not by sound, but by emotion.
It was appreciation, manifest and proudly displayed. Something quite rare in the once existent Midgar. It was hope in its brightest appearance. Not by works, but by personality. There was no more pain, by words or of hunger.
Just happiness, at least for now.
Sometimes I'd wonder upon that gleeful breeze, would this last? Would a city ravaged by guilt and destruction have the same mentality years from now? I'd usually think it, over the city, on this rooftop that I sit before now. I was watching my friends, my home eagerly go on, time never stopping for them, and them never stopping for time. And yet again, that breeze did come by...only slightly pushing, reassuring me to not worry...
We cannot change the future.
Only make the here and now, worthwhile...
She'd usually say that, as I'd wonder, or ask the question to that answer. The brunette strands, much longer now, lengthy and beautifully youthful, would do this swift and swirl movement. Like the morn' breeze, she'd just appear by my side, to only grip my hand and say that song, without even singing.
I love you, my Valentine. Don't forget it. That was her greeting every morning, just a few moments after that breeze... Please Vince, don't ever forget. She'd ask that of me, constantly, aggravatingly. Like every 'I promise,' wasn't believable. Like I had lied to her, and again, and again. She knew I wouldn't, but she wouldn't except that, nor would she except anything else. There was no comforting her, she was the only worried person in Midgar.
She was never without worry, and I loved her for it. Another way to show me her love, I supposed. She'd sequentially kiss me after the two sentences of apprehension, then put her arms around me. So softly, so small. I'd turn to hug her, the smell of the monster infested plains would rise in my nose. The smell of speed, fast and furious speed would arise from the silky hair, only to be touched by my metal claw.
Just always remember that I love you, okay? Is that hard, Vince? I'd comfort her to the limit of comfort. Something I could only leave to what you're imagination. As I'd let her go, it was those eyes, those eyes of brown nectar that only wanted me to hold her again, on that rooftop, looking onwards to the future, feeling that passing breeze.
You remember that I love you, too. The sun and the moon could only relate, in incessant harmony. Each one, complimenting each other's territory of firmament, in a constant relationship, only to be thought of as love. Except, she was the sun, I was the moon. She was the dominant reason for breathing, for she was my breath.
She and Midgar, both queens of my heart.
Princesses of my soul.
___________________________________________________________________
"I will always remember," her voice fell silent in that stillness only to be known as she fell back to that place, where she came. Heaven opened its arms for her, as I screamed in utter agony.
"Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me!!" But her eyes rolled back, as she exhaled her last breath. "Yuffie! Oh no! Yuffie!!" Those eye's dim brown light died within my arms, grabbing her so hard, sobbing so much.
"Come back, please come back." I was whimpering, the plains had already echoed my roar for return, but there wasn't any.
She wasn't coming back.
