A/N: This prompt was another in the line of 'make-my-life-harder' prompts. This one was by Anzer'ke.
Disclaimer: Musical Disclaimer #3: Got money? I'd do anything for you. Except claim ownership, because Square might sue.
The sun clefts the valley, dying the canyon walls gold. The evening light seeps into everything, from his hair to the little chocobo chain she keeps on her keys.
"Gawd, Vince. Hurry up." she drawls, enjoying the last shreds of the sunset. He just grumbles.
"Pfft. What's wrong, Zombie-butt? Feeling like an old man because you can't pitch a tent anymore?" she winks, her tongue flicking from her lips. He decides not to acknowledge her poorly disguised sexual metaphor.
"It's been a while since we've done this. I need to get back into practice." he grunts, metal fingers struggling with rope.
"Hah. I'll get us a bubble-bath and candles when we get to Cosmo Canyon, then. I'd like to hear you howl under the full moon."
Again, he ignores the taunts. Instead, he grabs the mallet for peg-setting and brandishes it at her playfully. She doesn't notice, because her headphones have already leapt into her eyes, like fleas to a cat. As music floods her ears, he fades into the background. A background that now contains a freshly pitched tent.
The moon, a sliver of quicksilver, is astride the clouds when he sneaks from the tent. The walls of the canyon seem closer than before in the night air, but no monsters draw near. He takes his gun, just in case.
He doesn't actually know why he does this. Maybe because he wants to create instead of destroy. Or maybe because he's really an artistic soul? Maybe (and it's a different, less pleasing maybe), he's jealous of her attention. Nevertheless, he snatches up the guitar he hid earlier.
Metal fingers carefully navigate the wood and strings. It's not how it seems in those infernal videos that Yuffie's always watching, where some puberty-ridden acne-bag whisks his fingers down the frets with ease. If he grips too tight with his metal hand, he'll crush the fretboard, or spine, or whatever it's called. And his human hand refuses to take the positions he wants it to, because it's more used to holding a trigger than a pick.
His voice is wrong, too. Instead of sweet melodies or rousing choruses, his voice is flat, lacking in some indefinable way. He can only sing quietly, because at higher volumes even his flat notes distort, twisting into a sub-human wail. He sometimes thinks it's Gallian, or maybe Hellmasker, their laments tearing out of his throat without his permission.
He plays for a good hour, under the moon. He doesn't get too far. He'd probably be far better at something different, like a violin, or perhaps even a harmonica. But Yuffie doesn't listen to those kinds of things very often. Eventually, he gives up for the night, because he's almost sure he heard a monster's howl, somewhere underneath the scratch of his fingers or the break of his voice.
He's getting better, she thinks, burying her head in the pillow so he won't think she was listening. Although how he ever thought he could hide a guitar from me, I'll never know. It might not have been a full moon, but she still loves to hear him howl.
A/N: Some people will think I missed out the 'prayer' part of this; actually, music is considered one of the greatest form of prayer for many religions. I play the harmonica, myself.
I have a couple of announcements: firstly, I'm going to stop putting the Review Etiquette section here, because if you haven't got it after twenty-odd chapters, you never will. (Also, I keep forgetting to put it before I post, and it's annoying to have to go back to edit.) Secondly, remember that the current schedule of requests for Pyjamas is on my profile, and is kept up to date, so if you want to know what's coming up, that's the place to check. Last but not least, I'm planning to write a longer, 'bonus' chapter after we hit Chapter 25, because even if these chapters are only short, I think it's important to celebrate every once in a while.