Disclaimer: don't own it
Ever Dream
Prologue
He'd been here before. Seen it; felt it and done this before.
The detail of his surroundings seemed amplified. The smell of livestock and greens tickled his nose, soft 'warks' and the clicking of claws as the chocobos moved about in their stables, the dull roar of voices shouting outside, the clanking of metal upon metal and the details of his companion. He could see each long strand of coffee-coloured hair, the red scar and pale clear skin, thin arched eyebrows and dry lips. Crystal eyes glowed with a wealth of uncertainty, hope and fear as the man backed away, bare feet slapping lightly on the dirt floor, lithe but muscular arms wrapped around the sodden and torn grey linen of his shirt.
He suddenly felt keenly aware of his own clothing, the new shirt sliding over his torso and the steel-capped boots thudding on the earthen floor as he moved forward. His hands raised and slapped against the brick of the wall behind the other, holding him in place as their eyes met, silently regarding each other with a cautious calculative look before both leaned forward. He could see the black eyelashes fluttering uncertainly before slipping shut as a soft sigh escaped between parted lips.
And suddenly there was pain.
He stumbled back, eyes wide as they stared down at the sharp metal tip of a sword protruding from his stomach. A harsh groan escaped him as the sword was wrenched out from behind. Wincing he turned to meet glittering green eyes and a pale hand beckoning.
"Come here Squall. You've done well."
The sword came down again.
In a small apartment in Traverse Town, Cloud Strife's eyes snapped open as his entire sweat-soaked body jerked out of a deep sleep.
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Tonight he saw things from a third-person perspective rather than the usual first-person.
Blood, there was so much blood. He felt choked by it, instinctively covering his mouth as his stomach gave a violent lurch.
A gentle hand pulled at him, moving away from the dream figures but keeping them in view.
"You have to watch what happens." Aerith whispered as she wrapped her arms around the trembling figure and gave a cryptic after-thought. "With understanding comes healing."
He moaned lowly as a man was cut down, arching in pain as blood soared with a melancholic grace before the body fell on top of another like a blanket. Mouths moved in an indication of speech he couldn't hear. The last of the man's strength was put into shaking his head and linking his fingers with those of the one under him; he gave a tearful smile before a well-aimed firaga sent a piece of the ceiling smashing into his head.
He gagged, doubling over as last night's dinner threatened to make an appearance. Aerith's hands fluttered soothingly over his back, the tips of her fingers and her palms cool as they brushed over his trembling heated skin.
"You should wake up now Leon. We'll talk tonight."
Opening his eyes to stare listlessly at the ceiling above, muscles trembled minutely and small gasps filtered through the room as he gulped down mouthfuls of air. Leon Loire could only utter one sentence to the presence lingering in his bedroom.
"Why do you make me see these things?"
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TBC?
This is concept I've been toying with for the better part of a year and I'm still not entirely sure if I'm going to follow through with it but I would really appreciate some feedback on what I've done to help me decide, thanks.