He could hear the softness of her voice like drops of crystalline water pelting inside a vast cave; echoing and vibrating in a crisp tone. His heart was taking pace the closer he got to the end of the tunnel. He was surrounded by darkness, utter blackness in the depth of the earth, but the promising light at the farthest end was giving him courage to continue. He had never before feared anything, yet every step he took fueled the apprehension. It almost extinguished his breath, his heart trembling and muscles aching with tension. He clenched his teeth to quench the shiver running down his spine. He recognized this place. He had never been there before but in some ways it felt like home. When he stepped into brightness, silence covered the ether. Serenity was thicker than oil, making it difficult to breathe as if his lungs were filled with it. There was a pillar of glowing crystals protruding out of the rippled black water. Its color was icy blue, shifting and twinkling at times in silver and gloomy grey, but never assuming a warmer tone like that of the deep summer sky.
The cave was vast like the Universe, there was no beginning and no end to it, yet this pillar was the center of it all… it was the center of the Universe for Sephiroth. It was where it all began. The young angel felt a sudden rush of anguish, feeling all alone whilst fear settled within. His throat tightened and it was difficult to swallow, and all of a sudden, difficult to move. Each time he gulped, a mouthful of something viscous slipped into the pit of his belly. It tasted organic, pungent and warm, like body liquid. It was inside his nose, his mouth, filling his lungs and moving his entrails to the soft humming that grew stronger as waves rocked his entire being to a steady beat. It sounded so familiar. It was steady like a drum… it was a heartbeat. It was no longer a daunting place, but it was not safe either. It was the center of the Universe, for it was the cradle of his life. It was where his Universe began and where his pain started. Not yet born, and already damned. Through the thick emulsion surrounding him, Sephiroth tried to understand the world outside this womb of terror. There were whispers inside that frightened him, voices that were unknown to him, a voice calling from a distance. He drifted slowly towards the massive pillar and the closer he got, the more evident a human shape inside the smooth walls. He pressed his palms against the sharp edges of the crystals, breaking the skin on his already scarred palms. He was leaning so close, his breath could have fogged the surface of the pillar, but instead, it was the lady inside it who fogged it with her breath. It brushed against his face like a winter storm. Sephiroth squinted, eyes narrowing and trying to focus on the features of the lady, but the contours were dissolved in the shifting mirroring solid. He could discern her brown hair, the sadness radiating off her face and the tiny frame trapped like an insect in amber inside that confined space. She was frozen in time, whilst he was ready to be born. The space around him collapsed and shrunk to nothing. He had to break free. He had to escape this womb, yet there was something within those crystal walls that held him back. Who was that woman? Why did he feel at home, yet so unsafe and so filled with pain? An invisible force wrapped around him like an umbilical cord and pulled him slowly away from the woman in the crystal palace. Sephiroth fought to stay, but there was nothing to stop the course of Nature. Tiny hands of a child reached out, trying to grasp the sleeping lady behind the walls of ice, nails catching against the solid in a desperate attempt to break through. The small, black wing tirelessly whipped through the emulsion, but it was too weak to fight the force pulling him away. The tiny, little bird fought to stay, holding onto the hope of an open arm receiving him despite the abomination he was. But his request was cut. She never reached out for him, she denied him, his hope was shorn of and his being rejected. He had to be born into a cold world. And it was waiting outside this womb.
Vincent sat next to the bed of Sephiroth, watching him sleep and regain a healthy shimmer to his pale cheeks. Sephiroth was beautiful when he appeared in the dreams, but seeing him sound and alive with that vibrating aura surrounding him, added the essence that defined him an angel. But underneath that calm surface a cruel war raged on; unknown to the world outside. It was a something that wouldn't let Sephiroth be, something that would cripple him until he slept. He couldn't remember anything, couldn't really tell what was a dream or reality. Deep down inside he felt like screaming, but there was thick silence muting his voice and stopped the words from surfacing. His horrendous battles were through with him and although slowly waking up, he could not surrender to the impressions of the waking world. The light he longed to see was burning him and the memories were mostly of pain. At times Sephiroth slipped back into the womb that carried him; the one that forcefully poured life into his limbs when something new was seeded out of him. The butterfly that turned into the caterpillar and fed off the living during his life. He was reluctant to live, but his stubborn heart was pumping life through him, just like the womb pushed it into him. Sephiroth had to look forward, but all he could see were scenes from past battlefields. Darkness was still imprisoning him and slowly turning him into the one he used to be; the daemon of Wutai was reawakening and the touch he gave Vincent at the moment he opened his eyes, was not that of a friend. It was as cold as the darkness imprisoning Sephiroth again, until all he could see was horror from the past.
Vincent noticed the ice spreading through the pale fingertips touching his skin and retracted into his red mantle, not saying a word. He needed not, for the grey ghost on the lips of the angel spoke for him to hear; "My new life suffocates me and it hasn't even begun. I just feel like falling to sleep again and never reawaken." Sephiroth moved his head away from Vincent and stared through the bright window as he went on with a hypnotic tone. "Memories are again planting seeds of hate and all I've loved in my dreams are now turned to shame."
"Sephiroth," Vincent stepped in with his soothingly deep voice, "you're trapped far beyond your fate. Your dreams run deeper than both of us. You chose me to give… whilst you took from me to live again. Why regret it now?"
"I don't want this life, Vincent. I'm turning into my own fears. I can feel it. Vincent, Chaos has spoken to me in your dreams. He's reminded me of how I have been cheated of my youth. My humanity,' his eyes once again rested on the hidden complexion of the Daimon Lord, "something I'm not even sure I ever possessed."
Vincent lowered his head in despondency and could not speak. Why was this life torturing them in this way? Chaos had taken his freedom to reveal the truth to an unprepared soul. Could it really be so? Sephiroth, on the other hand, was forgiving.
"I don't hold it against you, Vincent," Sephiroth muttered behind numb lips. "I'm an abomination to Nature. That's why the Lifestream rejected me."
"No!" Vincent flew up from his seat, breathing his pledge of sincerity onto Sephiroth as he cupped his hands around the pale face. "You may have suffered anger and misery, but from now on you shall suffer unto ME! Not alone. Never more alone, but you have to let me take that on."
Sephiroth's eyes were filled with tears of rage mixed in a sea of sadness radiating from his wintry gaze.
"So what will you do?" he asked with a mere whisper. "Annihilate my misery? Pretend my past never happened?"
"Try getting back to me, Sephiroth," Vincent leaned closer and whispered gently into his ears. "Get back to what used to be in our dreams. Distribute the pain and let the loss become our advantage."
"No prayers will help, Vincent. I'm alone in this."
"All have said their prayers, Sephiroth," Vincent backed away a little to take the entire beauty of the angel into view. "You're not the only one who's back. There were more of those whose nightmares have been invaded."
Sephiroth tilted his head a little, pressing it deeper into the soft pillow; "Others? What others? I remember something… but… so distant… so hazy…"
"Look at my face," Vincent asked kindly. "I'm not lying to you. Together we will find where the key to these nightmares lie. And I won't let you slip into it all again. Do you understand?"
Not returning a single word, the angel nodded with an insecure glance, but the brunet was determined.
"Trust me," Vincent assured. "I have suffered even your share amongst the living. I want peace too."
Sephiroth nodded again, locked between Vincent's steady palms and felt strange calmness spreading from within. Could Chaos actually deliver this promise? Could someone really deliver him? Protect him from the ghosts of the past and keep him focused on the future without losing the path. There was a promise of brightness at the end of his unwinding tunnel, but would he reach the end alongside Vincent, or would death be his only companion into the afterlife? Upon that thought, the child within spoke and with fingers locked in a cramp around Vincent's shoulders, Sephiroth uttered the words he had never taken into his mouth.
"I don't want to be lost again. I don't want to feel…" Sephiroth's eyes were drifting into a different dimension, observing something horrid that frightened him. Vincent wasn't sure what it was, but he could feel it through Chaos. He felt the visions of abhorrence. The sweat was breaking through Sephiroth's forehead, nostrils flaring whilst desperately clinging onto the breath he released in a fraught plea.
"I don't want to feel… abandoned again."
For the first time, Vincent saw the human in Sephiroth; the human only Sïana Khin had witnessed. Saw a single, fragile human who was now standing against the most destructive power of Nature; the very enemy of the Lifestream, the darkness of the Cetra. At once, Vincent was insecure if Sephiroth's heritage was enough to help them against the approaching dangers Aeris had warned them about. But no matter the doubt, he had to fight for that vision. He had to believe in it. It was the only thing they had. And then it came; that strange, entanglement that started to change it all. The more he looked at Sephiroth, the more he resented the spawn. His features carried some traits of his human mother; the way the lips trembled with fatigue, the way the eyes reflected the pain, the sweetness of his complexion. It was all too familiar to the point where the admiration and desire gave way to the suppressed frustration he had built up with time. It was Lucretia's son. Hate and desire morphed into disgust and anger. Vincent released Sephiroth from his arms, watching him from a distance. He didn't have to clarify his emotions, for Sephiroth felt it. With a face expressing both sadness and regret, the light in the eyes of the angel dissipated and by the time he closed the feline emeralds their bonds were broken and the relationship turned platonic. It happened effortlessly, like an autonomic function. Chaos rebelled inside Vincent, but it was no longer something he could influence. Sephiroth was alive and Chaos had no room amongst the living. He was only summoned through hatred and anguish. In the waking world, Vincent was the more powerful of the two and he was content with this change, to stay safe and at a distance from the angel.
… Sephiorth's being was exhausted and worn. The passing had stirred his buried memories, scarred his mind and drained him of strength. But far from his cocoon of misery, his embodied intellect awoke to the sounds of Fenrir roaring in recurring accelerations. Kadaj opened his eyes and reluctantly sat up in the bed. The soft pillow and warm blanket was far too tempting to leave, but he just had to make sure that this new life was real and not a dream. His body was his own despite that the sun was up and for once, the night had seemed short and insignificant in comparison to the day still ahead. With weary eyes he looked through the window and smiled at the sun. Beneath the window Kadaj saw Cloud attending the motorbike and testing the functions of the engine. Cloud's hands were dirty, his clothes bore patches of oil and his knees were covered in dust. The flaxen was unaware of the intense gaze resting upon him and kept on working. Kadaj watched him a short while, relishing the notion of a promise kept and of being alive in a world where night and day evened out. Eventually, fatigue overtook him and he leaned back into the soft embrace of the bed. He closed his eyes and slipped into a peaceful slumber.
… The mind fell adrift, whilst the body brust into vigor. Loz awoke to the sound of a little girl singing. He had heard that song many times before. Every night that she had come to play with him. Indeed, he could pick that voice out among millions of others; Hunci. Loz smiled before he even opened his eyes. It was a bright and wonderful day – yet another week in his new life had begun. Life here was so much more different than on the other side. He could not remember any details about the life beyond this life, it was all but a blurred mist in the depth of his mind, but he knew it had been very unpleasant. It wasn't himself he remembered. It all seemed like a bad dream, for the personality he sometimes saw as flashbacks, did not resemble the person he felt inside. He could not recall the details and the past was but a blur, but he decided not to dwell on those issues, for life was outside his window and it would not wait for him to stop dreaming. He had no time for that. Instead, Loz wanted to experience all that he had missed out on. With great effort, yet with a light heart, he made an attempt to crawl out of bed. There could never be enough morning hours to take away his weariness. He was always most tired in the mornings. His legs touched the ground, but his torso was still deeply sunken into the mattress, still tempting him to hide under the covers and indulge in delicious warmth and softness. Loz grunted and pulled the cover over his head; five more minutes. Two hours later, persistent poking brought him into reality again. It was Hunci.
"It's ten o'clock, Mister Loz," the little girl whispered, but there wasn't so much as a slight twitch from the big, silvery man. As a little devil landed on her shoulder, she picked out a dandelion from her pocket, and whilst the man was seemingly asleep and unaware, she rubbed it against his nose, giggling. Suddenly, Loz shot up from the bed, firmly grabbing hold of the little girl and throwing her up in the air. A childish shriek filled the air and made Barrett stumble with his breath in his throat into the bedroom, finding the two playmates tumbling on the floor and Loz on his back with a yellow nose.
"What the hell is going on?" Barrett panted, eyes wide and scanning the room.
"We were just playing," Hunci giggled and climbed off the Loz's massive chest.
Barrett emitted a sigh of relief and asked them both to get ready for breakfast. Hunci did as she was told, leaving the room pointing at Loz and giggling at his yellow nose. Barrett shook his head, allowing himself to smirk, although he stubbornly fought the genuine smile pressing from underneath. He was still hurt by the past, but he could not escape the fact that Loz had brought a little bit of tranquillity to their humble home. Hunci was calm and slept well at night, whilst Barrett took advantage of the situation of having another strong man close at hand. He decided to start building the porch he had planned for so long. The two men had hardly spoken during the week Loz spent time there other than occasional questions and answers as to how the porch would be realized.
"Listen," he began whilst the silver spawn was getting dressed. "I… um…"
The words stumbled in his mouth. The gratitude Barrett felt towards the happiness Hunci exuded somehow couldn't find its way into the light and thus, he continued on a different path.
"I was planning on building a porch and the sooner we start the sooner it'll get done. It's a good thing to just… you know... get back into routine. No?"
Loz cast a look at Barrett, nodding. The fiend was completely devoid of emotions, but he witnessed something within Barrett. He wasn't sure what it was since interpreting emotions had never been his stronger side other than expressing them through physical manifestations. But something had changed within him through the passage back to the living. He was no longer affected by dark thoughts in the way that touched a current of emotions inside. He was more stable and strong, not only in body but also in mind. Initially, Barrett was uncomfortable with having to accommodate the toruturer of his little girl and to care for his safety, as requested by Nanaki, although he understood the significance and importance of it. Loz, as well as the rest of the Jenova spawns, would be kept hidden for the time being; all seprated. The burden had fallen upon Barrett to provide a temporary home for Loz due to the connection to his little girl and despite the antagonism associated with the task Hunci seemed to appreciate the presence of the spawn since he had a soothing influence on her. Indeed, there was a powerful guardian of an orphan little girl who would stay by her side like a loyal companion and never leave her in time of need. That very notion won over the hostile emotions within Barrett and he accepted having an unusual lodger. Nothing more was said and the day continued on as the sun reached its zenith and hours chased one another.
… Slowly the morning turned into late afternoon and the sun began setting again, casting its last few rays through the lounge windows to Tseng's apartment. His body glistened with the sweat pearling down his heated skin, motions flushing his muscles with electric impulses. The sai was steady, yet fluent in his hands, following the directions of his motions like an extension of his fingers. Tseng was focusing on his balance. The hakama was tightly wrapped around his waist and soaked at the lining with the salty water from his body, drops of sweat tantalizingly enhancing the sinewy muscles underneath the velvety skin. The living room was fairly empty, conveniently rearranged to serve as a small dojo where Tseng could exercise and study his kata in detail and subtle weapon training. With his mind targeting the invisible foe evading his movements, the Turk swirled around skilfully and delivered the final assault that would defeat the aggressor. And the kata ended with 'rei', a bow.
"That was pretty impressive," sounded from the background. Without even turning, Tseng emitted a smile and his heart almost skipped a beat with the joy that bloomed within.
"Thank you," he exhaled with a deep sigh to catch his breath.
"Wasn't that Bassai Dai?"
"Yes," the Turk turned around and met the seductive gaze of the long lost beauty finally appearing in the afternoon sun. "Yes, it was, but adapted for sai."
For the first time, he could take delight in the gracefulness of Yazoo in the warm golden rays, dressed in a black dressing gown that softly covered his stature.
"Did you hang this above my bed?" Yazoo brushed his fringe aside and studied the delicate dream catcher of feathers and plaited threads. His slender fingers moved gently over the craft and handed it over to Tseng as the Turk approached him. Tseng looked at the dream catcher and nodded.
"Yes, I believe I did."
"Superstitious?" Yazoo snickered with his usual overconfidence, and crossed his arms leaning against the architrave. His attitude was undeniable, yet stripped of the sincere iciness he once exuded, replaced by a childish act that Tseng found more amusing than offensive.
"Not really," the brunet answered smilingly and walked past the silver man adding, "just making sure you had a nice sleep."
They reunited in the kitchen over a glass of water.
"I did. It was the best sleep since I can remember," Yazoo stated and swallowed the water in large gulps, making it seem ever so delicious to the mouth. "How about you?"
"Me? Well, not really. I was kind of in and out." Tseng said.
The feline eyes shone through the platinum hair that hung like a curtain before the seductive face and the smile slipped off the pale, symmetrical lips that spoke; "I noticed. You were very nervous, rolling around like fish on a line."
Tseng chuckled in his glass and emptied it. "Well, it was an eventful previous night. Hadn't had so much sleep since passing through the portal. Sometimes I woke up still not sure if this was real or a dream… if I was really through it. You know?"
Yazoo nodded. Indeed, the journey from the nightmares to the waking world had worn them out quite extensively, since it emptied both Tseng and Yazoo of nearly all their strength. In addition, the Turk had to be the strong one; not only pulling the spawn out of the mouth of Death, but also to carry him home to safety.
"Besides," Tseng added, eyes fixed on the floor, "I couldn't sleep very well. I was watching you most of the time."
"Me?" Yazoo asked. "What for?"
The Turk had to laugh. "Because…" he stepped closely up to Yazoo, slipped his fingers defty past the lining of the gown and ever so gently tingled the soft skin on the smooth inner thighs of the fair man. Yazoo's crossed legs formed a canyon that led the voyeuristic fingertips on a blind journey only seen through a touch. "… I wanted to see when you'd wake up so I could punish you for your little torture session with me a while back."
Yazoo almost dropped the glass when perceiving the slightest tingle of the silvery hair close to his groin. With clumsy movements he managed to place the glass on the table he was leaning against, but knocked it over and almost pulled it onto the floor with his sleeves. From the very beginning of their union, although in the no-man's-land between dream and reality, there had never been a sense of frustration or shame chipping the edges off their passion. Tseng was spoiling Yazoo's neck with his lips and tongue and the platinum warrior was lost in elation, communicating only through little moans and gasps for air to encourage his lover to stimulate him further. Tseng was dizzy with the lovely scent of the silver man, inhaling and tasting the freshness of his skin. However, in an innocent declaration of infatuation, a haunting image was brought to life.
"It's hard to believe you're real," Tseng sighed and kissed the face that instantly turned stale and expressionless. The kiss was but one-way and as soon as lips parted, Yazoo withdrew himself. He gazed down towards the floor and with a deep sigh released all the tension inside. Leaning his head against Tseng's torso, he was suddenly overtaken by fear, urging a question from the cinnamon lover.
"What's wrong?"
Another deep sigh and a warm breath caressed Tseng's skin. Drowning in icy-opal, feline eyes, the Turk received an answer.
"There's so much waiting for us," Yazoo whispered. "I'm not sure what, and I don't know when, but waking up from that nightmare was worse knowing it will come true. Having it in a dream…" he paused and shook his head, then moved away from the Turk, wrapping up the dressing gown to shield his body from sensual scrutiny, since it was no longer meant as an object of desire. "The good thing about nightmares is that you can wake up from them, Tseng," Yazoo answered with a dampened mood. "You can die over and over and still you wake up alive. It's a dream. This is not."
Tseng looked askance at the platinum man, shaking his head.
"What are you talking about, Yazoo? We've fought many wars before and whatever you fear is coming, it will be dealt with."
"What if we can't?"
Tseng snorted. "What if…? What if the world ends tomorrow?"
"That's right," Yazoo nodded and walked out of the kitchen. He threw his gown on the bedroom floor, leaving it in a heap as he continued into the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower," he grunted and closed the door behind him.
Not about to allow this event to ruin their first day in the waking life, Tseng followed him closely.
"C'mon, Yazoo," the Turk sighed and seated himself on the toilet waiting for an answer. "Tell me what's really troubling you."
Yazoo had to swallow his shame and though he so desperately wanted to release his feelings, the words kept on stumbling in his throat. Never before had he tasted these emotions and it was stirring his mind into insanity. He couldn't even admit it to himself, how could he explain it to Tseng? But just as close observation was an undeniable characteristic of the graceful fiend, Tseng never allowed anything to slip him by.
"Just tell me what you are afraid of," the Turk persisted and Yazoo realized he couldn't hide from Tseng.
"What if all this just ends? I can't face going back there again… to see those visions and to feel that horror. What if something happens to us… you?"
The question was carried by the soft steam and brushed against Tseng with gentleness. There wasn't anything he could say to take away the pain of loss. Indeed, he couldn't deny the fact that whatever dangers might rob him of this life, there would be no return. For years he has been luring Yazoo into this plane, this fragile plane where one gets only one chance for a mistake. Suddenly, a warm set of hands wrapped around Yazoo's waist and pulled him close to a muscular body. Lips tingled against his neck as Tseng spoke.
"Look, the future is too uncertain to waste time thinking about it."
"I can't help it," Yazoo pouted and invited the closeness of the Turk with subtle gestures; the flesh of the firm buttocks gingerly brushing against a wakening penis and relishing the tingle from the soft down curling on the groin, fingers intertwining and arms holding close.
"Regardless… whatever happens, at least you're here. And we'll fight together."
Hearing the words chased the negative emotions aside for a moment and the seductive game calmed Yazoo's quivering stomach to the point where passion took him over. Tseng's own sensuality flared up, pulling Yazoo close. Illuminated with passion, abandoned as previously in their dreams, Tseng offered his body shamelessly and without hesitation to all Yazoo's desires, striving to efface the fear from the emotions, to surpass them. Yazoo plunged inside Tseng. His desire was moving every fibre in his body like butterflies fluttering violently in a confined space. His being felt like bursting and thus, the thrusts became almost frantic and shallow. With arms possessively wrapped around Tseng's firm hips, Yazoo rocked himself to fulfilment, releasing his bursts of vigour with a loud scream. Tseng waited for the platinum man to calm, but asked nothing in return. Instead, they both sank to the floor in a soothing embrace, allowing the remnants of the tension to wash away with the clear water.