Okay, this was done while I was bored one day and I decided to just throw it out here to the wolves.
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy 7 or anything in association with it.
They were like the seasons, he decided. All of them; him, his son, Cloud, the rest....
He was Winter, cold, frozen, unable to move beyond this lot that had become his life. Not even the fire that had once made him so great a Turk, so great a warrior, could ignite his heart, could thaw the perpetual winter of his soul.
Those that lived inside, that clawed continuously at his mind, that greedily grasped at his every weakness and flaw, they too were frozen. Just as he was trapped in this state, his appearance locked into this...oddity, so too were they trapped. Sealed to him. Stuck. Frozen, just like Winter.
Then there was Cloud. He was like Spring, still caught in the clutches of Winter, but fighting free, able to see the warmth and beauty of the coming world. He was cold at first, unreachable, untouchable. Then, he thawed and his misery brought rain, a rain that washed away the shards of ice, of the frozen past that he was still trapped by at times.
In a way, he could see Cloud as the bringer of life, as the one who, when everything had passed and been released from the entrapments of Winter, is able to inspire the beginnings of new life, new hope, in others. The rain of his misery has, in many ways, cleansed him of his misdeeds and created a fertile ground on which a new future might be built.
Much like the rain that healed the people of their geostigma.
Ah, yes...the people. There were so many people that he could name in this moment, so many that reminded him of Summer, but those that came to mind first were those who had been his companions: Tifa, Yuffie, Barret, Cid, Reeve, and Nanaki.
They were alive, readily moving forward, always moving forward. He could see them, later in life, achieving their dreams, making more of themselves than anyone but them thought was possible. Reeve, it seemed, was well on his way, working on restoring Midgar and healing the damage that had been inflicted by ShinRa Corporation and the battles that had resulted from the decisions made so many years ago.
Those people, his friends, he guessed, were Summer, alive and flourishing, moving on, growing stronger, a living, breathing flame that made the world one worth living in. In a way, his son had succeeded. He had forced the world the utterly change.
His son, the "perfect" experiment of Hojo. Sephiroth. His child had become the Fall in so many ways. He had been warm at one time, happy, even. He had been alive, had been able to have people he called friends. Then, he had learned of what he was, of what had made him, of why.
He fell in hatred, into rage. He fell into freezing cold, seeking only to bring about ruin and the end. He sought to change things, to trap everything and punish it all; all for the sake of what he had lost. He became Fall with his fall, changing from the once warm and brightly colored youth, the decorated soldier, into the cold, frigid killer who sought nothing more than the End.
Closing his eyes, he forced the memories down, willing those bound to his soul to be silent, and rose, his long hair and tattered cloak settling about him. It was time to move on, to continue his Existence, roaming the frozen streets of his memory.
It was time to return to Winter once more.
Yeah, so I would appreciate knowing what you think. That's it.