Memoires Of A Mental Breakdown

Conversations Continued

o-o-o-o

Shelke is trying to figure out this nonsense called coffee.

Used to her mako enhancement – and finding she no longer needs it – the girl discovers she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. In the refulgent hours of the morning, Shelke could be typically found confined to a tube of verdant substance, dependant on the fumes for survival. Now that she has so much free time on her hands, the former Tsviet is at an utter loss.

Vincent suggested coffee.

(Cid had recommended beer, but Tifa admonished him for advocating such before noon.)

So here she sits, staring at the brown contents that circumnavigate her cup, tentatively risking a sip and finding the entire concept of imbibing liquid comparable to defecated remains highly repulsive.

She discreetly spits the beverage back into the mug, hoping nobody noticed.

"I saw that," an all too familiar voice announces from the doorway.

Shelke does not have to turn around to know who she is now required to converse with.

"Yuffie."

"Yes. That would be me. Glad to know you don't need flashcards or something way lame to memorize all our names. Though, admittedly, Red XIII threw me for a loop when I first met him. Cloud was easy to remember, though."

Shelke nods.

"You are rather unforgettable."

"Aw, Shelkie-pooh! That's got to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!"

Yuffie croons as she takes up her resident seating arrangement across from her polar opposite.

"I was implying something along the lines of infamous, which is not exactly a compliment."

"Yeah. Well. Whatever."

Shelke's subtlety is lost upon her.

"Can I ask you more questions today?"

"…Why?"

"'Cuz, like, I dunno. It's fun?"

Shelke continues to stare hard at her coffee.

"Will you ingest this coffee for me if I oblige?"

Yuffie blinks.

"Dude, nobody is forcing you to drink that crap. That would be, like, coffee rape or something."

"Tifa gave it to me," Shelke explains, continuing to observe the liquid, as if it may metamorphosize into something palatable. "I wish not to offend her."

"…Tifa burns crap all the time. I always let her know when she makes something inedible."

"Perhaps this is why she does not particularly favor you."

"Honesty is the best policy, Shelkster. You need to learn these things."

"I believe most beings utilize a thing called tact."

"Not me," Yuffie chirps. "What the hell does tact ever get you? Nada, that's what."

She then takes hold of Shelke's coffee mug and slides it across the table.

"But, being the nice ninja that I just so naturally happen to be, I'll take this coffee off your hands, so long as you agree to converse with me."

Here Yuffie plasters on a smile of mirth, and Shelke wonders if she is meant to imitate it, or simply acknowledge the gesture with a nod.

"Very well."

"Boo yeah," Yuffie exhales, downing the coffee in three strong gulps for emphasis. "I'm caffeinated now, Shelkie. You're really in for it. Hope you don't regret it."

"That happens to be one emotion I'm familiar with." She pauses. "More so, after this morning."

"Oh, shut up. I'm your reason to wake up."

Shelke doesn't bother to mention she's not sure why she continues to wake up in the morning. (Though, in retrospect, she wonders if she should have, for perhaps Yuffie could have offered some simplistic insight that could be construed into something meaningful, even unintentionally.)

"Okay. Question numero uno," Yuffie begins, wiping the residue coffee away from her mouth with a swipe of the hand. "Why were all you Tsviets named after sections of the color wheel?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The color fetish," Yuffie elaborates. "Explain it to me."

"I do not know the answer to that phenomenon," Shelke admits, though she is thinking about it, now that such is brought to her attention. "Hojo did not strike me as one for aesthetics."

o-o-o-o

Truth be told, Rosso did not mind her color association. In fact, she arrived baring the resemblance, and perhaps that is where it all originated from. Azul did have blue hair, and Nero naturally possessed the abilities to control darkness, and Weiss – for whatever reason, sexual or not – seemed quite placate with his whiteness fetish. That left Shelke The Transparent without a color and ostensibly without a name, for she was never assigned a hue and was simply referred to as such due to her ability to disappear without warning. In the beginning, Rosso had mentioned something of the orange variety, given her hair, but Nero reprimanded it, saying it made her sound more like a piece of citrus than a cold blooded assassin.

o-o-o-o

Yuffie has disintegrated into peals of laughter on the tile floor.

"Shelke The Citrus – ohmigods – Shelke, can I call you that from now on? Please?"

"I will terminate your very existence."

Yuffie can not reply, for she is preoccupied groping the air for breath.

"Then again, I may not have to," Shelke dimly notes. "Given the fact you are currently asphyxiating."

"Oh, that was priceless," the ninja proceeds to blabber, dabbing stray tears that are leaking from her eyes as she resumes her previous position on the bench. "Okay. Okay. I'm good now. Next question."

Shelke waits expectantly. There is little else she can do.

"Your weapons," Yuffie commences, regaining composure. "You have to tell me the story behind your weapons."

"Mine?" Shelke queries.

"No. Not yours. Yours are boring. You got beaten by a frickin' fire extinguisher, how lame is that?"

"I prefer to think I was defeated by Vincent, thank you very much."

"Yeah. Well. He shot the fire extinguisher, but not important. What I'm getting at here is Weiss."

Shelke instinctually grimaces. She does not have fond memories of Weiss' weapons.

"It was so obvious they were phallic symbols!"

"Excuse me?"

"Those gun blade thingies. They were, like, semiautomatic dildos. How can you take someone like that seriously?"

Shelke wants to ask if Yuffie has ever been at the receiving end of a semiautomatic dildo – but something inside of her says that question will come out wrong.

"I'm not familiar with the term dildo."

"You don't have to be. Just know he looked like a lame ass."

"…I believe I already specified his ass was quite pleasing."

"Please," Yuffie petitions. "Don't say that again. I can't take it. Not coming from you."

(Though she doesn't know who else had access to his ass, aside from Vincent, and to hear him admit such would be indefinitely worse.)

"And, um, Azul? What was that thing he was totting around?"

"A 457-678 Experimental Cannon."

"Right. That tells me something right there. Compensation, anyone?"

Shelke is beginning to wish she had drank the coffee.

Or, at the very least, not have given it to Yuffie.

She seemed ten times more audacious when given the right chemical enhancement.

"Not if his chrome plated crotch was any indicator."

Yuffie chokes on herself, apparently not expecting this response.

"Shelke, I'm beginning to think you're kind of a pervert."

"You are the one referencing semiautomatic dildos," Shelke responds, even though she is not certain what a dildo, exactly, is. It sounds profane, and it is coming from Yuffie, so it most likely is.

o-o-o-o

Once, after spending an extended amount of time with Nero, Shelke could not help but take heed of his rather unique choice of dress. And she is not merely referring to his affinity with ace bandages, either. He seemed to sport eye liner and nail polish, something Shelke was unfamiliar with at the time. She spent nineteen years of her life faultily assuming in was of the norm for humans of the male persuasion to promote the donning of facial decoration, and was baffled to see Vincent lacked the aforementioned.

One day, or night, or afternoon, or evening – time is irrelevant, as it always was – Shelke managed to procure a black sharpie from some unknown realm in Deep Ground, and decided to paint her nails to match his.

o-o-o-o

"How old were you when you did this?"

"Sixteen. Allegedly." Shelke pauses after delivering this answer. "Are sixteen year olds not supposed to pine for lacquered fingertips? Rosso had them."

"Dude – don't got emo fag on me, Shelkster. Don't turn into Cloud."

"Cloud is … homosexual?"

"Debatable."

Shelke ponders the character of this man in question for quite some time.

"We have not held many verbal transactions – Cloud and I."

"Well, no surprise there. He doesn't hold verbal transactions with anybody – 'cept for himself on special occasions. Oh, and by the way, don't use the word transaction like that in a sentence. It makes you sounds like his hooker or something."

"Cloud associates with hookers?"

"Again: debatable."

A silence of some great length bequeaths itself upon them.

"Male or female?"

There is another momentary pause, before both girls arrive at the same conclusion and voice in unison: "Debatable."

o-o-o-o

Nero got tied up a lot.

"I am contemplating becoming the spokesperson for S&M," he announced one day, early on in their mental sabotage, when he still possessed some warped sense of humor only few understood and even fewer appreciated.

"What's that?" Shelke had questioned, still young and naïve and the epitome of all that was right in the world.

"Skittles and Motrin," Azul took it upon himself to demur, parental tendencies still running strong through his veins.

Shelke nodded acceptingly. "I like Skittles," she offered.

(Rosso, on the other hand, could be heard in the background accosting Nero concerning the logistics of volunteering to aid in such a campaign. Needless to say, Nero declined.)

o-o-o-o

"What? Declined? Why? I want me some kinky Deep Ground down and dirty sex here!"

Shelke sighs, watching Yuffie's laced up leg bounce around wildly beneath the table. She keeps kicking her in the shins, but it is futile to say anything.

"That would require my observation in order to retell it."

"Well. Who says you weren't the one participating?"

"I believe that is grounds for pedophilia," Shelke notes, devoid of emotion.

"Never stopped Vinnie and me."

Silence.

"Ha ha! Got you there! Didn't I? Didn't I?"

"I prefer to remain silent concerning this matter."

"Aw, Shelke! You're no fun!"

Another kick in the shins. This time Shelke is pretty sure it was intentional.

o-o-o-o

Hojo taught Shelke about the birds and the bees through an elaborate demonstration involving the strategic placing of test tubes, beakers, and various other scientific apparatus normally not usually intended to educate young, impressionable fifteen year old girls. (As to why he decided to pursue this course of action in the first place remains a mystery.)

The dissertation was peppered with obscure euphemisms like, 'the man then places his Bunsen Burner into the women's open vestibule and increases the intensity of the flame in accordance to her requirements.'

o-o-o-o

"He just put the hopeless in hopeless romantic."

"Perhaps that was his intent."

"Makes you wonder how Lucrecia could repress her gag reflex long enough to sleep with him."

"I try not to picture such things."

"Ya know what's even worse?"

Shelke senses Yuffie is being rhetorical, which is the nature of most of her questions.

"Barret," the brunette supplies. "And Tifa. In costumes."

At this, Shelke is rendered momentarily speechless.

"I've never witnessed any evidence of a … Bunsen Burner … between those two."

"There's not. But try to think about it and tell me it doesn't burn. Um, no pun intended."

"…What is the point in that?"

"Amusement. Dude – how did you occupy yourself in those mako tubes for so long?"

"Counting," Shelke answers honestly. "Backwards. From one hundred. In various increments."

"And this is why you're still a virgin."

o-o-o-o

Azul had an unhealthy infatuation with the word penetrate.

It was always in reference to his shield, of course, but still. After the Hojo Fiasco Of Sexual Education 101 – Shelke could not help but wonder if this, too, could be applied as a euphemism.

o-o-o-o

"Ha ha ha ha!" Yuffie croaks, fist pounding the table. "Azul got stabbed by his own cannon! Penile impalement – for the win!"

Shelke settles on not saying anything.

But then she quickly changes her mind.

(At least after the incessant table punching has died down.)

"Apparently his chrome plating could have been put to good use elsewhere."

Yuffie's eyes grow as huge as saucers.

"Ohmigods! Another funny!"

"…I try."

o-o-o-o

Shelke quickly learned to despise the color of neon blue.

It covered everything – her hands, her body, and her comrades' bodies.

It was a constant reminder of her dependency on mako and the prison she currently found herself in.

She'd look in the mirror and hate herself for having blue eyes – desperately wishing they were of the brown or hazel variety – anything but blue. (Sometimes, she was thankful they turned orange, if only out of juvenile spite.)

"The sky. It is blue. Apparently."

Shelke remembers looking at Rosso when she described such to her.

"I doubt that."

Rosso, who had not yet turned to her automatic response of slaughtering all that oppose her, looked quizzically at Shelke.

"How could something so beautiful be blue?"

"I do not understand, Young One."

Shelke didn't bother to explain. Words were not her forte. And neither were emotions.

o-o-o-o

"So they were like your school colors or something. Black and blue. Like a giant bruise."

"I guess you could relate it to such."

"Quick, what was your mascot?"

Shelke's nose scrunches up as she tries to recall what a mascot is. Surprisingly, she is able to conjure up this recollection and simply replies, "Fluffy."

"Fluffy? Who the hell if Fluffy?"

"Rosso's decapitated lab rat."

"…She named it Fluffy?"

"I did not ask."

o-o-o-o

Hojo deemed food an overrated commodity, and said masticating wasted too much precious time ("There ain't no way in hell masturbating is ever a waste of time," Cid can be heard orating from the hallway, still in his wife beater, cigarette characteristically drooping from his lips. He sees the two girls engaged in conversation, to which Yuffie replies, "Um, excuse me, bonding moment here?" and immediately leaves.) In the stead of meat and salad and vegetables, the Tsviets (and everyone else involved in Deep Ground, for that matter) were allotted diet pills, which contained all the necessary nutrients to maintain survival, and some to enhance, but only required about three seconds to swallow, as opposed to the half an hour usually given for lunch break among normal organizations. ("You should have sued.")

o-o-o-o

"There was talk of breeding us, once."

Why Shelke was willingly volunteering this information she'll never know. Perhaps Yuffie is beginning to grow on her. But more like a mold as opposed to a friend.

"Holy Shiva – does Yuffie actually get her kinky Deep Ground sex?"

Yes. Definitely mold.

"No – it was to involve artificial insemination. That's how one reproduces Deep Ground style. Hojo deemed it more efficient."

"Hm. That may explain why Sephiroth was an only child."

"Then how does one explain Kadaj?"

Shelke may not have been present for such things, but she was privy to them, thanks to hours spent being lectured by Cid after he spent some quality time with the bottle.

"Well, he didn't come from Lucrecia's vag, that's for certain. How does someone give birth inside a crystal, anyway?"

"How does one conceive inside a crystal?"

Yuffie smirks, proud and irreverent, both defining characteristic for her.

"I swear – two more years and you'll be ready for stand up, Shelkie."

"…I prefer to sit."

"Okay. So be a maverick. Start a trend. Sit Down Comedy. Whatever."

"I do not aspire to garner laughs."

"You do it without trying," Yuffie informs her breakfast companion. "Just reiterate your sexual introduction. That's bound to make a mint. Can I be your agent?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty, pretty, pretty please?"

"No. No, and no."

"Lame ass."

Shelke thinks back on her time spent in Deep Ground and responds with a resounding, "Wutai Flea," of which she stole from Rosso.

o-o-o-o

Shelke stole lots of things from Rosso, actually, and not just her stilettos. She even tried to imitate her accent once – in the privacy of her room, of course – but Azul overheard her and she was then the unfortunate recipient of unprecedented amounts of guttural laughter.

(No one ever attempted to imitate Shelke because she hardly spoke. Refraining from conversation was the closest one could get – aside from adding a monotone drawl to whatever did happen to flow from her mouth.)

She was known, however, to abandon the pretense of this characteristic (the silence, not the monotony) when arguing with Nero, however. For some reason, he was always able to elicit a response from the girl – no matter how unfavorable – possibly because she did not hold such tight reign over her tongue while in his presence – for he rarely issued her a beating. He preferred to agitate her with his tightly bound mouth – and oxymoron not lost on her. Of course, when he happened to lose whatever debate was currently at hand (again; another oxymoron) – which rarely took place, thus the extreme response – he did lash out quite dramatically. But the two were so practiced in sparring no one ever really sustained any injuries.

o-o-o-o

"Is this the equivalent to Deep Ground flirtation?"

"No. This is the equivalent to Deep Ground conversation."

"Oh."

o-o-o-o

Nero did manage to clip Shelke's shoulder once, what with his demon wing artillery, and she had to lie in the infirmary for a day or so. It should be noted he took to sulking around more than usual that day – but he was the master of darkness as it was – so general brooding was viewed as a side effect more so than a guilty conscious.

o-o-o-o

"Did he come visit you?"

"Affirmative."

"…Well? Did you have magical healing hospital sex or what?"

"He proceeded to berate me on my severe lack of dexterity for a good thirty minutes."

"I thought you couldn't tell time."

"I can not. I counted."

"What is it with you and binary, woman?" Pause. "And I use that term loosely."

"We are of the same age, you and I. Surely you are aware of this."

"Yeah, 'cept I didn't receive my sex ed from Hojo, thank you very much, or have mutant emo fags shooting me in the arm."

"Technically speaking, it was my fault."

"Here, on Gaia, that's ground for domestic abuse. You were involved in an abusive relationship, Shelkie. Remember, admitting the problem is the first step to recovery."

"Why bother? All my relationships were abusive."

"Ah." Yuffie thinks for a moment (a rare feat, to be certain.) "Good point."

"Just Nero the least so."

"What about Azul?"

"He grew exceedingly testy after year five or so."

"Hm. Yeah. Nothing to penetrate, I guess." The caffeinated ninja twirls her hair piece around an index. "They should have had mandatory field trips to the Midgar Brothels – ya know – release some of that pent up aggression. Then maybe you guys wouldn't have beaten on each other so much."

"That would require us leaving Deep Ground. Which we were not allowed to do. Thus rendering Rosso and I the only viable … vestibules within the vicinity."

"Rosso was not viable. Ever. Which leaves you. In all your nine year old glory." Yuffie contemplated this. "Yeah. The guys would have definitely benefited from some brothel outings. No doubt about it. Maybe that's Vinnie's problem. Must be hard to go solo with that claw."

"Go solo?"

"Never mind. Ask Hojo when you get to the Life Stream. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you."

"I do not wish to converse with him ever again."

"Well, I guess that's alright. Any man would be willing to speak about going solo – trust me."

"I do not wish to speak about it."

"Who says there has to be speaking? Hojo seemed fond of demonstrations…"

That last line goes right over Shelke's citrus colored head.

o-o-o-o

Rosso claims she once had a significant other, and they were apparently betrothed. Shelke didn't understand the wording of the sentence, but it as just as well, for it would have made her cry to know that Rosso was torn from her former lover in the same way Shelke was torn from her former sister.

"They'll save us," Shelke had assured, still waiting for her age to enter the double digit realm.

"Surely you jest," Rosso had replied. "They have no reason do such."

"'Course they do. They love us. Remember?"

"I try not to."

o-o-o-o

"You regret anything, Shelke?"

Shelke seems taken aback by the sudden sincerity laced within Yuffie's usual jovial tone. She is also avoiding eye contact. Two things that do not compute.

"I regret a great many things, Miss Kisaragi. But that is another conversation for another day."

Yuffie's eyes brighten, her demeanor returning to that of its normal aplomb.

"…Are you saying there'll be more conversations?"

"Until they can find a way to permanently inflict Silence upon you, I don't see why not."

Yuffie, grinning maniacally, returns the coffee mug to its rightful owner.

"Can I hug you?"

"Refrain from contact, please."

Shelke pauses, bearing witness to Yuffie's attempt at puppy dog eyes (which fail miserably, by the way. They cease to work on the emotionally in tune, let alone the emotionally inept. Gods only know why she continues the feat.) "My condolences for having you ingest the coffee."

"You make it sound like a funeral."

"You never know what will kill you."

"Who taught you that one? Nero? Weiss? Hojo when he was in one of his pontificating moods?"

"No. I came up with that one on my own."

"You should write a book, Shelkie. A big, ol', fat book. Like the kind they keep preserved in shrines and stuff. We have some stashed away in Wutai."

"…The art of manual composition is so archaic."

If it weren't for her characteristic vocabulary, the emphases would have almost made her sound like a normal teenager.

Perhaps Yuffie is having more influence than she would like to believe.

o-o-o-o

Author's Notes

o-o-o-o

This chapter leant itself much more readily to the realm of comedy instead of macabre. Possibly because I caffeinated Yuffie. Have no fear – however – I have all intentions of making the next chapter slightly darker. (Of course, Yuffie will still prevail, and you can't get too angsty with her on board.) Maybe next time I'll saturate the duo in alcohol and antihistamines – see what happens.

o-o-o-o

As always, dedicated to the ever faithful ReadING Chick.

(Heck, leave it to me to dedicate a story to someone and then spell their screen name wrong. Was tempted to continue the misspelling, very tempted, but decided not to.)

As a side note: said ReadING Chick drew fan art for the first chapter. It's pretty much awe inspiring. The link is at the bottom of my profile, under the words Trash Talk, and you should all click on said link from said girl because I said so.

(How's that for alliteration?)

Oh, and by the way, dearie, I attempted to throw some Shelkero in there for you. Don't know if you picked up on that or not.

(Oh please, who am I kidding?)

o-o-o-o

Thanks again for reading!