~*Disclaimer*~ Don't own the FF7 characters, duh.
~**~- Dreams.
In the Night
Prologue
~*The whispers surrounded him, wave after wave crashing down on him as he covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as all logic and reason were droned out. They hated him, he knew it, they hated him for what he was, who he was, his very existence was spat and cursed upon. The whispers were accusing, forming and shifting into shadows, dark and accusing, frightening. The inky blackness surrounded him, and over the accusing shadowy whispers was a vague mournful sound. Was someone mourning him? Was he already gone? Its high shrill notes were impossible to determine, what was it saying? Was it even human? The whispers once again tore at him, and despite his tolerance to pain, he cried out in pain. He was sinking, diving deeply into the deeps of hatred, lost, under the sea of fury, the waves churning, the whispers tearing at his mind, threatening to take him. And all while that mournful cry was in the background, never ending, forever there. Low and mournful.*~
He jolted up, gasping, his covers pooling at his feet as he panted for ragged breath, air filling his lungs as his blood stained eyes looked desperately around, a ring of red incasing the blood he had shed, the blood that had spilled and tainted his soul. He gave a slight relieved sigh, slipping out of the safe warm grasp of the worn bed and sitting on the cool window seat, looking up at the sickle moon, beams of sincerity bathing him, making his already pale appearance something hauntingly handsome. Ghostly. He sighed, brushing his sweat matted hair away from his soaking forehead, long raven strands falling to his shoulders, midnight threads of black silk. He sighed, pausing as he pressed her forehead against the window, the cold rushing to his mind, stilling the turmoil somewhat within.
These nightmares... they had haunted him for too long. Lucercia... His ivory fingertips brushed gently across the window, looking out, almost longingly, his expression mournful. It had been his fault, his sin. He was tainted, stained because of his love for her. She was eternal, pale and beautiful like the moon, her eyes capturing the stars. Maybe that was why he loved to gaze at the stars late at night, forever enraptured, forever cursed and tainted. He gave a slight sigh, the window misting, blocking the view of the moon, his Lucercia, turning away, though the streams of moonlight gently poured into the room, like her purity had lightened up his darkness. Without the light, dark wouldn't exist.
He padded softly out of his room, the planks creaking and groaning their displeasure, moonlight pouring spilling after him into the hallway, like a ghost. He sighed, walking into his spotless kitchen, hardly ever used, opening the refrigerator as cold seeped into his skin. Without a word, he fumbled around in the practically empty frozen box, one that mirrored his soul, and pulled out some vodka stored for these nights. He gave a light sigh, watching the liquid slosh around in its bottle. Suddenly, the phone rang, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, giving a slight sigh as he picked up the phone.
"Valentine." Was the cold, detached answer to the obnoxious ring, his voice sounding icy even to him. Though he was used to it. His interest was more in whoever was calling. This had to be of significant importance to contact him at eleven thirty.
"Heya Vinnie! Hope I didn't wake ya!" Vincent instantly flinched at his nickname, though said nothing, his silence speaking loudly for him. He was a man of few words, and everyone he worked with knew that. He had always been that way. So, without waiting for a word, his employer quickly went into business, his tone drastically changing. "We finally got a lead in that f***ing Shinra case. Apparently they work underground, and they anonymous tipster was kind enough to give us directions. S***, probably a rat in the system. Anyway, we need your god d*** expertise in this, Vinnie." Vincent gave a light sigh, saying nothing for a moment, letting this settle in. Expertise. huh, his expertise was that of a murderer, a man who was stained, but then again, it was his job as a police officer to do his duty whenever called upon. His repentance for his sins.
"Give me fifteen minutes." Vincent said, settling the phone back in its cradle, looking back down at his bottle of vodka. With a trembling hand, he picked it up and put it back in the refrigerator. Save it for another day.
~*Author's Notes*~ Yes, slow I know, but some background on this whole thing before I get this story. Don't you feel so sorry for Vinnie? *sniffles* Well, hehe, this story kinda came to me and wouldn't let me sleep. Ugh. Well, anyway, next chapter is still kinda a prologue too, and do not fear. I couldn't put two long chapters together, ne? Well, anyway, please read and review.
In the Night
Prologue
~*The whispers surrounded him, wave after wave crashing down on him as he covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as all logic and reason were droned out. They hated him, he knew it, they hated him for what he was, who he was, his very existence was spat and cursed upon. The whispers were accusing, forming and shifting into shadows, dark and accusing, frightening. The inky blackness surrounded him, and over the accusing shadowy whispers was a vague mournful sound. Was someone mourning him? Was he already gone? Its high shrill notes were impossible to determine, what was it saying? Was it even human? The whispers once again tore at him, and despite his tolerance to pain, he cried out in pain. He was sinking, diving deeply into the deeps of hatred, lost, under the sea of fury, the waves churning, the whispers tearing at his mind, threatening to take him. And all while that mournful cry was in the background, never ending, forever there. Low and mournful.*~
He jolted up, gasping, his covers pooling at his feet as he panted for ragged breath, air filling his lungs as his blood stained eyes looked desperately around, a ring of red incasing the blood he had shed, the blood that had spilled and tainted his soul. He gave a slight relieved sigh, slipping out of the safe warm grasp of the worn bed and sitting on the cool window seat, looking up at the sickle moon, beams of sincerity bathing him, making his already pale appearance something hauntingly handsome. Ghostly. He sighed, brushing his sweat matted hair away from his soaking forehead, long raven strands falling to his shoulders, midnight threads of black silk. He sighed, pausing as he pressed her forehead against the window, the cold rushing to his mind, stilling the turmoil somewhat within.
These nightmares... they had haunted him for too long. Lucercia... His ivory fingertips brushed gently across the window, looking out, almost longingly, his expression mournful. It had been his fault, his sin. He was tainted, stained because of his love for her. She was eternal, pale and beautiful like the moon, her eyes capturing the stars. Maybe that was why he loved to gaze at the stars late at night, forever enraptured, forever cursed and tainted. He gave a slight sigh, the window misting, blocking the view of the moon, his Lucercia, turning away, though the streams of moonlight gently poured into the room, like her purity had lightened up his darkness. Without the light, dark wouldn't exist.
He padded softly out of his room, the planks creaking and groaning their displeasure, moonlight pouring spilling after him into the hallway, like a ghost. He sighed, walking into his spotless kitchen, hardly ever used, opening the refrigerator as cold seeped into his skin. Without a word, he fumbled around in the practically empty frozen box, one that mirrored his soul, and pulled out some vodka stored for these nights. He gave a light sigh, watching the liquid slosh around in its bottle. Suddenly, the phone rang, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, giving a slight sigh as he picked up the phone.
"Valentine." Was the cold, detached answer to the obnoxious ring, his voice sounding icy even to him. Though he was used to it. His interest was more in whoever was calling. This had to be of significant importance to contact him at eleven thirty.
"Heya Vinnie! Hope I didn't wake ya!" Vincent instantly flinched at his nickname, though said nothing, his silence speaking loudly for him. He was a man of few words, and everyone he worked with knew that. He had always been that way. So, without waiting for a word, his employer quickly went into business, his tone drastically changing. "We finally got a lead in that f***ing Shinra case. Apparently they work underground, and they anonymous tipster was kind enough to give us directions. S***, probably a rat in the system. Anyway, we need your god d*** expertise in this, Vinnie." Vincent gave a light sigh, saying nothing for a moment, letting this settle in. Expertise. huh, his expertise was that of a murderer, a man who was stained, but then again, it was his job as a police officer to do his duty whenever called upon. His repentance for his sins.
"Give me fifteen minutes." Vincent said, settling the phone back in its cradle, looking back down at his bottle of vodka. With a trembling hand, he picked it up and put it back in the refrigerator. Save it for another day.
~*Author's Notes*~ Yes, slow I know, but some background on this whole thing before I get this story. Don't you feel so sorry for Vinnie? *sniffles* Well, hehe, this story kinda came to me and wouldn't let me sleep. Ugh. Well, anyway, next chapter is still kinda a prologue too, and do not fear. I couldn't put two long chapters together, ne? Well, anyway, please read and review.