Nightmares of the Soul
A fanfic by Iridal & Kaitou
Ghosts in the Dark
Pounding along the mountain paths on the fast black Chocobo, Gwyn had more time to observe her surroundings. Not much had changed in the countryside since she had known it, and if it weren't for the technological wonders she had seen, such as toilets or electric heaters, she would of seriously disbelieved Vincent's assertion that it was several centuries in the future.
I guess some things never change...no matter how long it has existed. Smiling to herself, she almost missed the shape that was rapidly moving to intercept them...a rather large, dangerous shape. "Vincent!! A dragon!!"
"I see it." He cursed softly under his breath. They had no choice but to fight the beast. Although defeating it would be attainable, it wouldn't be that quick to die and would possibly force them to miss the night ferry to Junon. "Let's get this over with."
Both dismounted, leaving Gwyn to guard the frightened Chocobo while Vincent stepped forward to do battle. He produced a curious looking weapon and shot at the beast, tearing huge holes into its hide.
Interesting...however, it'll take forever to win this fight with just Vincent and that strange...whatever! Touching the knife at her belt, Gwyn summoned the power from its equipped materia. Pointing her finger at the attacking dragon, huge bolts of lightning tore through the crystal clear sky, striking it and leaving it howling in pain.
Not one to waste the opportunity, Vincent aimed and fired, killing the foul creature. Twirling his still smoking gun, he noticed his companion's wide-eyed look of absolute amazement, which was riveted on Death Penalty as he held it in his right hand.
"What...is that?!" she asked, pointing.
"This is a gun."
She moved closer to him, her attention flipping from the weapon to its wielder. "A gun? Is it like a...magic crossbow?"
A look of faint embarrassment passed over his face. "Uh...no." Vincent opened the barrel and let her examine the interior. "See? I put bullets, these metal things, in here." As she frowned in thought, he carefully explained how he loaded it and prepared it for firing. "Then, I pull the trigger." Taking quick aim, he shot a blowing leaf some distance away.
Gwyn turned to him, her eyes wide. "Amazing! Can I...try?"
He looked at her a moment, then chuckled softly. "I doubt you'd like it."
Her face quickly changed from wonder to irritation, her eyes darkening until they were a deep purple. "Why? Is it because I'm a woman?"
Vincent raised an eyebrow. It was almost humorous how mercurial her moods were. "No, it's not that. Very well. You asked..." Standing behind her, he helped the young mage place her hands correctly on the gun.
"What should I aim for, Vincent?"
"Something easy." He scanned the countryside, his eyes finally settling on an old hollow tree. "Try that tree. Aim for the trunk." He placed his finger with her own against the trigger, then instructed her to fire.
Her shot wasn't quite dead on, but it did hit the graying tree trunk, debris from the hit billowing out in a tiny cloud. Echoes of the shot reverberated from the surrounding mountains.
Vincent smiled softly at her efforts. "Good job." His mouth was by her ear as he spoke, his breath warm against her exposed skin. It wasn't until then that Gwyn noticed how very close he was standing. His distinct masculine smell surrounded her - a unique blend of his gun's oil and musky smell that was all his own. She could not help but blush, silently cursing herself for her fair skin. Seeing her reaction, he backed away, taking Death Penalty with him.
She flashed him a grin to cover her embarrassment. "I still think it's magic...thank you for letting me try, however."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "Speaking of magic, I couldn't help noticing that you are quite a proficient magic user. That spell you used...I have never seen that kind of power before."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's my calling...what I was trained to do."
"I thought that you were a warrior, somehow," Vincent said, gesturing at the knife sheathed on her belt.
Gwyn chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "No, I am most definitely not a warrior!"
"Then who taught you to use your knives?"
"I...I..." She thought about it for a moment, her gaze taking a faraway look to them. "...Charis. She taught me. I taught her a little magic, and she taught me a little about fighting in return."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. There was something about the way she had named her companion - something that hinted that there was more to the story. A half an hour was a decent price to pay to satisfy his curiosity. Pulling out some travel food that he had bought in town, he sat on the ground and beckoned for her to join him. "Charis?"
"Yes, my friend." Gwyn suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "She and I...died...together."
"Ah. I see." He handed her some food, covertly looking to see her reactions. "Was that who you dreamt of?"
She picked at her food, refusing to meet his gaze. "Yes, she was in the dream..."
"Would you like to tell me, Gwyn?" he asked her gently. "I am an expert on nightmares..."
She gave a small bitter laugh. "Even one such as mine?"
"On all nightmares. Tell me. It helps...a little."
Gwyn gave a resigned sigh, her gaze seemingly focused entirely on the food she held in her hand. "I saw...re-experienced...my death. OUR death." Her gaze shifted to meet his, her eyes mirroring deep pain and sorrow. "Tell me. Have you ever had someone you cared for more than life itself betray you"
His eyes flickered once with some indefinable emotion. "Yes. It was...JENOVA's fault."
"JENOVA," Gwyn spat. "So she continues to disrupt lives other than my own." She lifted up the front of her shirt, just enough to expose her belly. A long, thick scar marred her smooth abdomen, the blemish a pale, silvery color. "I was sliced across here..." Dropping her shirt back over her stomach, she tilted her back to reveal another silvery mark across her throat. "...and here."
Vincent's eyes betrayed his shock before his gaze averted. "A pity I wasn't there to avenge you." His words were laced with animosity.
"No," she stated firmly. "I do not need avenging. Charis was an innocent, and was forced to pay for the evil wrought upon her soul by JENOVA."
"Oh?"
"She and I were friends...ARE friends. When I lay dying, I saw her - the REAL her - surface. She was...horrified at what JENOVA had made her do. She..." Gwyn paused, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "Instead of letting JENOVA break her like that, she stabbed herself...joining me in oblivion." Wiping her hand across her face, she gave him a tremulous smile, obviously trying to contain her tears. "Well, perhaps we should move on...you said something about wanting to make the ferry before sundown, right?"
She turned from him, thus ending their conversation.
They rode in silence, Sephiroth taking the lead again after he had let Charis ride off some of the shock. Dusk fell, and still they rode on. Finally, he reined his Chocobo to a stop, Charis stopping behind him. He scanned the horizon...he knew it was...there. He pointed to a large shell-looking thing about two miles away. "That is where we stop for tonight. The City of the Ancients."
Charis narrowed her eyes. The City of the Ancients...she remembered hearing about it very long ago...from someone she couldn't remember. Shaking her head, she followed Sephiroth's lead to the shining city below.
It was midnight when Sephiroth finally decided that Charis was asleep. Silently, he climbed out of his bed, donned his trenchcoat, and made his way toward the large shell at the very heart of the City.
Wearily, Sephiroth descended the stairs leading into the cavern underneath the city. Each step made him remember what he had done. He had killed many people in his time under JENOVA, but this, he believed, was his worst murder. She was PRAYING...
Back up at the encampment, Charis kept up her façade of sleeping until she was sure Sephiroth was gone. Then she rose, picked up her sword, and headed for the edge of the lake she had glimpsed on the way in. That should be a good spot to train...
Sephiroth knelt down on the small dais in the center of the cavern. "Look...I feel kind of stupid being here, because I know that you can't hear me. But I suppose it is part of my...penance to apo...apo..."
"...apologize," finished a rather...familiar voice behind him. Then came the unmistakable giggle.
Sephiroth turned around, looking extremely undignified. "AE..AERITH?!?" He then noticed something rather odd. Aerith was at eye level with him. Somehow...this didn't feel quite right. Slowly, he looked down at the ground...and noticed she was floating about a foot off of it... "You...You're..."
"Dead, yes. I know." She grinned. "However, the powers that be have determined that you and the rest are FAR too incompetent to deal with this new incarnation of JENOVA...so they kind of sent me back like this to help." She laughed at the expression on his face. "Why Sephy-chan...I have never seen you so perplexed!"
Sephiroth just stared.
Two hours later, Sephiroth began the ascent back to the camp. Man...I just spent two hours talking to a...a ghost!? Heh...I must be losing it agai... He stopped. An odd noise had caught his attention. It seemed to come from the shore of the lake, not far from the encampment. Silently, he crept up the stairs and found a small crack in the ancient wall and looked.
It was Charis. She was training, and by the way she was perspiring, it looked as if she had been for awhile. As he watched her swing her sword with the same precise skill he used with Masamune, he marveled. She really is rather good... Then he noticed something strange...no WONDER he originally had thought that she was a man! Charis had bound her chest tightly with strips of cloth. They were white, and besides her normal leather pants, were all she was wearing, having discarded her shirt and vest by the edge of the lake. She still wore her gauntlets and that strange necklace, and her fiery hair was pulled into a loose braid that ran to her waist. She turned, facing Sephiroth's direction, and he pulled slightly away from his vantage point. After a moment, he looked back through the chink in the wall. His eyes widened at what he now saw. Running just above the binding cloths on Charis' chest, just over her left breast, was a scar that looked to be about 5 or 6 inches in length. It looked recent, but...how could she have survived a stab wound like that!? From the looks of it, it was made by a sword just as big as hers... Sephiroth furrowed his brows and refocused his concentration on her sword skills. Her control of such a huge weapon was quite amazing. Even with her height, and though she was strong, such a sword would be hard to maneuver. Yet she wielded it as if it were a toy.
He watched her until she stopped about an hour later. She thrust the swordblade into the soft turf and ran her forearm over her forehead. That felt good... she thought. I think that was what I needed. She pulled her sword out, grabbed her clothes, and walked swiftly back to the camp.