I present to you the first chapter of a story that I started back in April or May as a request from 'stina. Her words were ' a vampire story with Sephiroth, Vincent, and Cloud'. This is that story. I've got a piece of art on the way that I'll link to for the second chapter of this, and I hope you enjoy.
A few notes: I create my own take on vampires by combining aspects from classic models of vampirism. If you want an exact description of A) how my vampires function, or B) how Sephiroth and his situation work, just let me know. Vincent is not a vampire. I have never believed that he is one, and will never make him one without a good reason. Aerith is not my favorite character, but I do believe that she keeps an eye on CLoud and helps him when she can. That includes listening through the pool in the church.
As always, I am open to questions, comments, requests, critique, and praise.
It was late afternoon on an overcast August day. Tifa was working in the kitchen, flooding the downstairs with the smell of sautéing garlic. Cloud pulled up outside, back from a delivery, dusted himself down- to avoid the wrath of Tifa- and headed inside. Halfway down the hall, he stopped short, feeling instantly nauseous. Confused, he covered his mouth with one hand.
"Cloud? Is that you?"
"Y-yeah."
"How was the trip?"
"Fine."
"Where are you? Your voice sounds kind of muffled."
Cloud took a couple of steps closer to the kitchen to better answer the question, paled, then turned an abrupt about face and bolted out the back door.
From his second-floor vantage point, Vincent watched Cloud scrambled down the back walk and make a rather clumsy dive for the trashcans lined up against the garage wall. If the way his shoulders and back were shaking was any indicator, he was very sick. Vincent pushed the window fully open and hopped out, landing neatly a few paces away from Cloud.
"Cloud?" he ventured.
The blonde in question swatted weakly in his direction. He sighed, stepped closer, and slipped an arm around his waist, letting Cloud use his hip as a brace.
"Cloud?' Tifa had followed his lead and come outside. "Cl- what happened?"
"I have no idea," Vincent murmured. Cloud straightened shakily and pulled out of Vincent's hold.
"I'm okay," he said hoarsely.
"Okay? Cloud, you don't throw up when you're okay."
"I just ate something bad," Cloud said quickly. "I'm going to go lie down."
Vincent and Tifa followed him inside, neither of them quite sure what to do with him. He stumbled when he neared the kitchen, swayed, then regained his balance and double-timed it up the stairs.
"Vincent, would you…"
"Of course."
"Thanks."
Cloud answered as soon as Vincent knocked, sleepily inviting him in. The room was smoky and smelled strongly of pine incense, giving Vincent an instant headache. The source was a small, ornate incense burner on the desk that Vincent recognized as the one Yuffie had given Cloud two years ago. Cloud was lounging on his bed.
"What is it?"
"Tifa is worried. She asked me to come up."
"I'm fine, Vincent, really."
Vincent gave Cloud a skeptical look.
"You're lying to me."
"I am not. Tifa worries too much, and so do- are you okay?"
"The incense is rather strong."
"Sorry. The whole house smells like garlic, and I had to do something about it. Sit down?"
Vincent did, crossing his arms and giving Cloud a look that said 'go on'.
"Don't look at me like that," Cloud grumbled. "I haven't done anything."
"If you're sick, then tell her. It doesn't matter if you deem it inconsequential; it will make her feel better."
"I know that, but I swear I'm not sick."
"Oh? Then what are you?"
"I'm…um…hungry, actually."
"Hungry."
"Yes."
"You have no business being hungry after what just happened outside."
"I know," Cloud said softly. "I just…am."
"I'll get Tifa," Vincent sighed, getting up. "This is more her field than mine."
"No!" Cloud yelped. He lunged across the bed and grabbed at Vincent's hands. He was careful with the clawed one, pushing it under Vincent's cloak. Vincent flexed his hand instinctively to gauge the strength of Cloud's grip and the sharp points of his claws pierced the leather of his shirt, leaving shallow scratches on his chest.
"Let go of me, Cloud."
"Don't get Tifa. She has enough to worry about already. She doesn't- you're bleeding."
"My fingers are sharp," Vincent said shortly. "Let go."
"Wait, let me see," Cloud said vaguely, reaching for the buckles on Vincent's cloak. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"What do you think you're doing?" Vincent asked, trying to pull his flesh hand out of Cloud's grasp. The clawed one was free, but he was hesitant to use it unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Looking to see how bad it is. Don't move."
Vincent's cloak hit the floor. Cloud reached for the buttons of his shirt next. He made quick work of them and shoved the sides of the shirt back. Three thin cuts oozed blood over Vincent's sternum, unnaturally bright against his pale skin. "Sorry."
"It's fine. You can let go."
Cloud ignored him, reaching out and swiping his finger through the blood. He hesitated, then licked his finger clean. Vincent shuddered.
"Let go of me. Now."
Cloud looked up. His eyes had a slightly glazed look to them.
"Why? You taste good."
Vincent tried to jerk his hand free. Cloud scowled and grabbed Vincent's other hand, then used the leverage to pull Vincent down onto the bed.
"Cloud, let go of me."
"I don't want to," Cloud said dreamily. He pinned both of Vincent's hands under one of his, a feat he shouldn't have been able to manage, and sat on Vincent's knees, his free hand on Vincent's chest. "I want to try more."
Vincent kicked ineffectually, trying to either fall off the edge of the bed or dislodge Cloud. It didn't work. All Cloud did was dig his fingers into the scratches, struggling to deepen them with his short, blunt nails. It hurt, but Vincent bit down on any protest and focused on trying to jerk his hands free.
"Don't move," Cloud whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Too late," Vincent growled. His feet found purchase on the mattress and he dug his heels in, attempting to buck Cloud off. Cloud grabbed his shoulder and hung on until Vincent gave up.
"That's right, just lie there." Satisfied that Vincent was going to obey, Cloud released his hands and bent over the cuts. While not dangerously deep, the added damage Cloud had inflicted made blood well up in earnest, threatening to spill over the ragged edges of the wounds.
Vincent squirmed when he felt Cloud's tongue prod the wounds.
"Stop."
He felt Cloud smile against his skin and shuddered. Cloud pulled back a little and resumed scratching at the cuts, joining them into one bloody mess. After a moment, he ducked back down and continued licking. Not satisfied with what that was getting him, he tried sucking. It was more effective than the licking, and he went at it quite enthusiastically. Vincent stayed still until he started to nibble; then he grabbed Cloud's shoulders and tried to pull him off. Cloud's response was to bite down hard. Vincent went limp. This was wrong. Cloud shouldn't have been so strong, capable of pinning him down without visible effort.
Eventually, Cloud began to slow. He stopped sucking and began to lick again, cleaning up the mess he's made of Vincent's chest; there was blood everywhere, all over his face and smeared from Vincent's belt to his collarbone.
Then he froze.
Vincent opened his eyes. Cloud was hovering over him, eyes wide and panicked.
"Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"Did I…did I just…just…"
"You did."
Cloud scrambled off him and pressed against the wall, scrubbing furiously at his lips.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. Really, I didn't mean-"
"Has this happened before?" Vincent asked, sitting up. He pulled his shirt off fully and laid it across his knees.
"I…I don't think so. T-there a towel on the chair, if you want to…er…clean up."
Vincent carefully blotted at his chest with the towel, wincing when it stuck to the raw edges of the wound.
"I need to know, Cloud."
"I don't know!" Cloud surged off the bed and yanked the towel out of Vincent's hand/ "If I knew I was going to do this-" he gestured forcefully at the blood "- I would have said something, and this wouldn't have happened!"
Vincent said nothing, but grabbed the towel back, using it to pull Cloud to him. He resisted a little, but came without a real fight. Holding his shoulder, Vincent forced Cloud's head to the side. Two small, red wounds were visible on the skin of his neck.
"What are these?"
"What are what?"
"These," Vincent said, prodding the tiny dots.
Cloud reached up and felt them, confused.
"Where did these come from?" he breathed.
"You don't know?'
"No. Wait…but I thought I was dreaming. There shouldn't be anything there."
"A dream? What sort of dream?"
Cloud pulled away from Vincent and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, keeping one hand over the marks.
"I camped out on my way back from Junon and had this dream that someone bit me here…but I woke up after. It was just a dream."
"A dream with teeth," Vincent snorted.
"It'll heal."
"Perhaps. But will your apparent lust for blood fade with the bite?"
"What are you saying?" Cloud growled, suddenly defensive.
"I'm saying that you are dangerous. What if a glass breaks in the bar and Tifa cuts herself? What if Marlene falls, or Denzel gets into a fight? What will you do when you see the blood?"
There had been a time when he would have enjoyed seeing Cloud's face harden. He knew how far under Cloud's skin he had gotten- Tifa and the children were his life. It brought him no pleasure today.
"I can control my urges."
"Oh? This is control?"
"What do you want me to do, then? Go downstairs and tell Tifa that something bit me and I'm turning into a bloodthirsty monster? Huh?"
"Go to the church," Vincent said levelly. "Perhaps Aerith will have an answer."
"Fine. But don't follow me."
--------------------------------------------
Vincent waited until he saw Cloud pull out and roar away before tending to his injuries. Cloud hadn't scored particularly deep, but he had managed to shred a patch of skin at least as wide as Vincent's hand and that needed tending to. There were also five finger-shaped red marks around his wrist that were already starting to bruise.
"Vincent, did you talk to Cloud?"
"Sort of," Vincent said, loud enough for Tifa to hear him through the bathroom door.
"Anything helpful?"
"Not exactly." He hissed softly at the pain of the disinfectant on his chest. Damn, that hurt. "I sent him to the church. Perhaps Aerith can get more out of him."
"She usually can," Tifa sighed. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
-----------------------------------------
After cleaning up, Vincent retreated to his room and locked the door.
"Chaos?" he whispered, settling on the bed and prodding the brooding weight at the back of his mind.
What? The demon shifted irritably. You choose now to speak to me?
"I beg your pardon?"
I tried to get your attention while you were playing the part of dinner. You didn't respond.
"I didn't hear you."
You didn't? I was being as loud as I could.
Vincent winced. Chaos' loud could cause instant splitting headaches, and he had missed it completely.
"Not a word. Can you tell me what's happening to Cloud? Anything?"
Vampirism. A cousin of the classic strain.
"You're kidding."
I don't kid about things that threaten us. Think about it: he had a violent reaction to the smell of garlic. Unnatural strength. Blood lust geared towards nourishment. Preference for a dark environment. Two small puncture wounds on his neck. Face it, Valentine, someone bit him and gave it to him
"You make it sound like a disease."
It is a disease. A virus, in fact. Transmitted through blood only.
"Can anything be done?"
Teach him control, and make sure he can get to a clean animal or a willing donor.
"Speaking of which…am I at risk?"
Transmission tends to be a conscious effort. He didn't actually bite you to begin with, not with fangs, and he isn't far enough along to have the ability. Don't worry about it.
"Don't worry about it? Cloud just pinned me down, clawed my chest to ribbons, and drank my blood, Chaos, and I couldn't stop him. I have very good reason to worry."
He doesn't have fangs yet. Until he gets them, he can't do much damage on his own and the blood lust should only surface when there is already blood present.
"How long?"
Several days, if you're lucky
"And if I'm not?"
Eight hours.
"Tell me all you know about this, then. I need to be prepared."
----------------------------------------
Cloud approached the church door at a trot. Aerith could tell him what was wrong. She could fix it.
He pulled the door open, took a step inside, and was blown backwards. He landed awkwardly on his back nearly ten feet away and lay there for a minute, winded. Then he picked himself up and tried again.
Ten minutes later, the concussion from his most recent attempt at reentering the church sent him flying into the wall across the street with mildly blistered hands and the smell of burnt hair surrounding him. He slumped to the ground, defeated.
"Cloud?"
Vincent stood over him, hands on hips.
"What?"
"I'll ask her," Vincent said quietly. "You should be able to get in if she invites you."
"What?"
"Get up."
Reluctantly, Cloud picked himself up and trailed after Vincent. He didn't try to step though the doorway, just stopped outside it and waited, watching Vincent continue to the water.
Inside, Vincent knelt beside the pool, hoping that Aerith was paying attention.
"Cloud needs to come in," he said softly. "He needs your permission."
Alright.
He felt more than heard the response and turned to the door, nodding at Cloud.
"You're sure?" Cloud asked.
"I am."
Hesitantly, Cloud stepped inside, waiting to be thrown backwards when he hit the threshold. He wasn't. Encouraged, he joined Vincent at the water's edge.
Bits of the light on the water's surface gathered and coalesced into Aerith, standing on empty air just above the water. She had one hand wrapped around the opposite wrist, twisting the bracelets she wore.
"What's happened, Cloud?"
"I…I don't know."
"He's been bitten by a vampire," Vincent said. Cloud looked up sharply.
"I've been what?"
"Bitten by a vampire."
"Where did you get that idea?"
"Chaos."
"And he's suddenly not a bloodthirsty monster in his own right? Since when is he any help when you're not in danger?" Cloud snapped, getting up and taking a seat on the nearest piece of rubble.
"He has been a help since after Meteor," Vincent said. "His knowledge of the Planet and its inhabitants has gotten me out of a number of tight spots."
"He's a monster!"
"As are you, now," Vincent said coldly.
"I am not!"
"Cloud, you should listen to Vincent." Aerith had been largely forgotten while they argued, so her words were a surprise that quieted both Vincent and Cloud.
"Listen to him? Aerith, you heard what he said!"
"I did, and I believe him."
"But-"
"Trust me, Cloud."
Cloud scowled, but looked expectantly at Vincent.
"Well?" he sighed.
Vincent crouched beside him and began to explain.
----------------------------------
When Vincent finished, the sun had set.
"That's it, then," Cloud said softly. "I'm dependant on blood for the rest of my life."
"Yes. Chaos does not know of a cure. He has, however, been wrong before. There could be a chance."
"I'll see what I can learn about this," Aerith offered. "I do have resources neither of you do."
"Thanks."
Aerith smiled and vanished, her faint light fading into the glow of the moon overhead.
"Tifa is worried," Vincent murmured. "You should go home and calm her."
"What am I supposed to tell her?"
"The truth, or anything else you like."
Cloud nodded slowly, eyes dull, and turned towards the door. Vincent sat back on the worn floor and watched the water. It was never really still, giving him an endless mosaic of shifting light to contemplate.
Outside, Cloud's motorcycle rumbled to life and roared away. Silence settled over the church like a heavy snowfall. Somehow, even though Aerith's church was not in a truly abandoned area, it was always quiet.
You're going to have to help him.
"And how can I do that?"
You've lived with me for over thirty years. Riding herd on another monster can't be too hard.
Vincent sighed and closed his eyes.
"You were never anything more or less than what you are."
I've changed.
"For the better, not for the worse. Cloud has changed drastically in the worst way possible."
Who else can help? Tifa? I think not. You and I know more about this than anyone else alive. It has to be you.
A soft splash made Vincent look up sharply, searching for the source of the noise. Nothing. Ripples don't show well on water that is already moving.
"You will help me with this."
Yep.
"Help you with what?"
Vincent jumped, looking up and behind him. Someone was standing over him, dripping wet. Moonlight turned ridiculously long hair into liquid silver cloaking broad shoulders and framing an angular face. Sephiroth. Vincent was on his feet in an instant, clawed hand up to defend himself- they were too close together for a gun.
"Talking to yourself, Valentine? I thought you were more grounded than that."
Vincent brought his hand across and down, tearing into the pale skin bared by Sephiroth's signature leather coat. There was blood, but not the gush of it Vincent expected. He had felt his claws score deep enough to grate on bone, slide off the bone, and dip into the body cavity beneath. There should be a gory mess now, perhaps even a glimpse of the pink, glistening organs within. As Vincent watched, the wound closed. Sephiroth watched as well, looking rather interested.
"One of the advantages to being dead is that you can't die again," he observed, fingering the unbroken skin.
"What are you doing here?"
Vincent evaluated his options. In front of him: Sephiroth. Behind him: the water. To the right: wooden pews. To the left: Open space. Going forward was not an option. Neither was going back- the Holy water didn't agree with his soiled flesh. He could vault a few of the pews, or he could make a dash for the fallen pillars across the open space to his left.
Sephiroth decided for him. His left hand came up. Vincent ducked to the left, into open space. Sephiroth lunged, one leg snapping out to tangle with Vincent's feet. Vincent hit the old boards with a thud, biting back a yelp when Sephiroth fell on him, flat on the bandages over his chest.
"Ah-ah," Sephiroth chided. "Not so fast. I didn't come all this way just to have you go running off when I show up."
"Get off," Vincent growled, drawing his hand back for another strike. Sephiroth grabbed it and pinned it over his head.
"No. I need to feed, and you're already bleeding. You smell good."
With his free hand, Sephiroth made quick work of Vincent's cloak and shirt. He shifted, straddling the gunman's thighs, so he was free to push the cloth and leather out of the way. He fingered the bandages.
"Did Cloud do this?"
Vincent glared at him.
"He did, didn't he? Typical. No finesse, just big, graceless motions that don't accomplish the objective to the fullest extent. He may learn in time, but I doubt it."
Sephiroth brought his hand up to his mouth and bit the tip of his finger, drawing his hand down to slide the sleek black leather glove off. He smiled around the leather. Vincent's eyes widened. No human had canines like those.
"You bit Cloud," he breathed.
"Mmm. I was expecting him to try and bite that top-heavy girlfriend of his, but it looks like he can't tell the difference between a couple of tall people with dark hair and exotic eyes. Always knew he swung both ways." Sephiroth swapped hands, tossing the gloves out of the way. "Did he get further than this? Lower, perhaps?"
Vincent shook his head. Sephiroth smiled.
"Good. I'd hate to see any more of you shredded needlessly."
Sephiroth reached for Vincent's belt, undid it, and drew it from the belt loops. He shook it out over Vincent's chest, collecting the end and the buckle together in his hand. Leaning forward, he wrapped the heavy leather neatly around Vincent's wrists, twisting so Vincent couldn't claw his way free without cutting his other hand to ribbons. Satisfied that Vincent's hands were no longer a threat, he sat back and traced the scars down Vincent's chest and belly with one long finger.
"If you're going to bite me, get it over with," Vincent hissed angrily, sitting up awkwardly. Sephiroth pushed him back down.
"I don't like the way fear tastes in the blood. Pleasure is far better, so I treat my food well."
"It's bad manners to play with your food."
"It's also bad manners to help murder your almost lover's son, but here we are. I'm dead, so you can forgive me this lapse in manners." He leaned forward, resting most of his weight on his hands, and hitched himself forwards so he was straddling Vincent's hips instead of his legs. His hips ground against Vincent's as he straightened, flicking his wet hair out of his face, and Vincent made a small noise.
"Better," Sephiroth observed, shrugging his coat off and tossing it in the general direction of his gloves. "This can be a very enjoyable experience for you, if you relax and let me get on with it."
Vincent glared at him.
"Or we could do this the hard way, with me dragging you every step of the way, until you finally give up and finish your evening thoroughly disgusted with both of us. Which will it be?"
Vincent tested the range of motion he had in his arms. Not enough to club Sephiroth with his clawed hand. Damn.
"I see. Stubborn, aren't you?"
Not bothering to wait for an answer, Sephiroth bent low, settling himself on Vincent's chest, and forced Vincent's head up, baring his neck. Vincent braced for the bite and was thoroughly shocked when a hot tongue ran along his jugular instead.
"Wh-"
"I already told you," Sephiroth chuckled, not lifting his head. "I don't like fear. If having a decent meal means going to extreme lengths…then I don't mind."
He resumed his licking, working from the side of Vincent's neck to his throat, fangs scraping lightly over his Adam's apple. Vincent held as still as he could, trying not to shiver.
Sephiroth grew bored with the unbroken skin of Vincent's neck and moved upwards, teeth grazing Vincent's jaw and nipping gently at his lips. Vincent tightened his lips into a thin line, a vague deterrent that had no effect. Sephiroth only smiled and forced a finger into Vincent's mouth, using it as a lever to force Vincent's mouth open properly. Withdrawing his hand, he crushed his mouth against Vincent's, forcing his tongue into Vincent's mouth. Vincent tensed, about to bite, then felt the fangs that went with the tongue and held still, letting Sephiroth kiss him breathless.
He pulled back after a long moment, faintly pink in the cheeks, and let Vincent gasp and pant.
"Always knew I could get the same effect from a man," he said smugly, licking his lips. "You taste divine, even if you can't kiss to save your life. How many partners have you had?"
"What?"
"I'll take that as very few, then. Lucky you."
Vincent protested weakly. Every ounce of sense he had screamed that he should fight his way free. Every nerve ending he had demanded that he stay put. He couldn't hear Chaos.
"Just behave yourself. You'll like this."
"But-"
"Sshhhh…don't say anything. I don't want to miss and hit your throat."
Vincent froze. Sephiroth's lips were just inches from his neck- the dead man was laying flat on him, covering most of Vincent's body with his own.
"That's right. Hold still."
Sephiroth's tone was soothing and quiet. Calming. The kind of voice you would use when working with a dangerous animal. That got Vincent's attention.
"What did you do to me?" he yelped, fighting Sephiroth's weight.
"I thought I'd subdued you. Apparently not." Sephiroth propped himself up on his elbows and gave Vincent a critical look. "It must be that thing in your head." He smiled. "It's listening to everything I'm saying, isn't it?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you? Or are you cut off from it?"
"What did you do to him?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit," Vincent hissed, kicking ineffectually at Sephiroth's legs. "You know why I can't hear him."
"Just natural laws, Vincent. The strong overpower the weak. I have more power than your pet, so I drown it out by simply being here. I imagine Cloud will do the same. Satisfied? I'd like to get on with it."
"We aren't getting on with anything."
"Oh, but we are." Sephiroth ground his hips against Vincent's. Vincent squirmed at the feeling, wanting to get away from it before sensation won over rationality and he did something to tell Sephiroth that it felt good. "And you really need to stop fighting."
"I will not sto-aah!"
"Yes, you will," Sephiroth said smugly, rocking his hips again. He'd straightened up, putting his hips at a better angle to Vincent's. "Because I know you like this."
"I do not!"
"Oh? I'd say you do, or you wouldn't have moaned like that. It sounded like a good noise to me."
Vincent! Fuck it all, I…just…him…let him!...over…lasting damage…make him…make……swear…turn!
Hearing Chaos was like hearing mental radio static, but the gist of his message got through to Vincent. Let Sephiroth bite him. There wouldn't be a real problem with it. Force him to swear that he wouldn't try and turn Vincent.
"Fine, then," Vincent sighed.
"Hmmm?"
"Do what you want. But don't you even think about turning me into something like you."
Sephiroth grinned at him
"Why would I want to do that?" he purred, settling back onto Vincent's chest. "I can't feed on you if you're like me- there's no nutritional value. I don't do junk food."
"I am not-"
"And you won't be. Now be quiet."
Vincent closed his mouth and relaxed into Sephiroth. Sephiroth shifted to settle himself and brushed Vincent's hair away from his neck. Then he stopped.
"Since you're being so obliging…do you want me to do it from the neck? Or somewhere else?"
"Huh?"
"I can do it here, on your neck, here, at your elbow, or here, at your groin. All easily accessible places that guarantee me a decent meal. I've heard being bitten below the belt can be a very wild ride." He touched each place as he named it, brushing long fingers over Vincent's throat, his bare arm, and almost playfully over the zipper on his pants. He had to arch his hips to do it.
"The neck," Vincent said quickly. He was curious what Sephiroth had meant by a wild ride, but did not want to find out first hand. Well, he did want to find out, but that was not rationality talking.
"Spoilsport," Sephiroth sighed. He ducked down to Vincent's throat again, licked playfully at the pulse, and then opened his mouth properly. Vincent had a split second to feel the sharp prick of fangs against his skin and think 'I shouldn't have agreed to this' before Sephiroth bit down. He pulled back almost at once and set his lips to the wounds.
Vincent gasped. It might have hurt initially, but something about the way Sephiroth was drinking turned what ought to have been a painful experience into one that was nothing but pleasure. The raw skin on his chest no longer burned under Sephiroth's weight. The bruises on his back from where he had fallen no longer existed. Nothing. All of it drowned under a rising tide of pleasure. It felt good. Better than good, as though Sephiroth was sucking on something lower and far more intimate than Vincent's neck.
"Nnh," he mumbled, trying to bring his hands up and give Sephiroth a half-hearted push. The angle they were bound at, however, made it impossible- all he did was strain something in his shoulder and arch his back in a futile attempt at lessening the pain. It brought his hips hard against Sephiroth's again. Sephiroth made a small noise that might have been of approval if Vincent had bothered listening and put one hand between them, as if to hold Vincent down.
When Sephiroth finally pulled away, Vincent was starting to feel dizzy. Shock, probably. From blood loss.
"Stay put," Sephiroth said, wiping blood from his lips.
"Mmhm," he murmured. He knew he ought to be worried, but it was much easier to lie there and let Sephiroth do whatever he wanted.
Sephiroth stood and dusted himself off, then picked up Vincent's cloak and draped it neatly over him. He folded the shirt and put it under Vincent's head, untied his wrists, and stepped back to admire his work.
"There. You should be able to get up and go back to Seventh Heaven in a few hours. Maybe not until morning. Be a good boy and don't tell anyone about me, hmm?"
Vincent didn't answer. Sephiroth chuckled, collected his gloves and coat, and was gone.
