Life.
How terrifying it is, to think that one can dwell so unconcernedly in this unknown plain of time. The very idea that one might attempt to define the word beyond its worldly meaning is absurd. We take the concept for granted – for the worlds before and after life are completely unknown to us and therefore even more dreadful. We are unable to even grasp this mere transition from that world to the next.
How many times have I felt like giving up, when haunted by the demons that emerge from myself, when bleeding from the cutting reality that threatens to dominate me, when confronted by the sheer fear that when I do indeed part from this life that I will not have known whatever it is I'm seeking for, or when I'm just exhausted from the labor that is living?
… What possesses people even to "attempt" to go through the loneliness, the dejection, the humiliation, the loss, the tears that can't be stopped and must be shed throughout life? Are the joys and happiness of the world really that abundant to balance the toils performed to attain them?
Beyond the fear, the obligation of the kinship ties and just plain ignorance, what do "we" have that pushes us – to take the next breath?
I don't know…
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It was freezing.
The preposterous snow kept falling, covering everything within sight with the deceitful white.
Yet one couldn't help gazing at the scene with longing eyes, while ignoring the hands that were turning blue – one couldn't help but find beauty in the plain façade.
Three days of trudging in the wet snow, the unsettling silence upsetting the steady rhythm of his boots. Three days of fierce struggle with sleep, determined not to be the first one to succumb to the traitorous unconsciousness. Three days of completely denying his presence - even when his heartbeats seemed to vibrate through the desolate walls, even with his inviting warmth practically glowing in the frigid chill of night.
Aeris let out a sigh and hugged her knees. She felt his eyes on her back, and an electric chill shot through her body. …The prickling sensation was somehow pleasant.
…
He leaned against the stone wall of the cave, allowing himself a sigh. He eyed her small form that huddled in front of the entrance, which did little to ease her trembling.
He brushed the silver bangs out of his eyes in irritation. His plan was ruined: the group led by Strife failed to keep up due to the snow. He also was positive that the Cetra - shaking like a leaf already - would collapse if they journeyed through the unforgiving storm. That would be the biggest blunder of all.
...In my veins courses the blood of the Ancients - I am one of the rightful heirs of the planet.
He still remembered the fiery zeal that burned in him when he uttered the words in front of Jenova - the creature that proclaimed herself his mother and declared that he obey her.
Jenova contrasted sharply in features with the Cetra who now sighed and buried her head in her hands. The dark, beady eyes had none of the emerald sparkle of the Cetra. The veined flesh that hung limply to her body clashed with the creamy skin that glowed with a color of peach. Jenova's body of the shielded metal that seemed void of life was nothing like the warmth the compact body of the Cetra radiated. The first impression of his mother - and he was ashamed to admit it - was repulsion.
...Was he so desperate as to consent having such a deplorable being as his mother?
He quickly erased the thought from his mind. Subconsciously, he might have noted that it was a fantasy - yet it was one so sweet in his jagged life that it burned through the white slates.
The notion of having someone - one who would fill his void that became unbearable - was such a blinding thought. It engraved into his mind, blazing through all logic he knew, leaving him with nothing but the desire to hold on.
The unsatiable void now tormented him with a vengeance, like a reopened wound - like the bloody lips it spoke to him in the words that only he could understand.
It was a longing so powerful that it became unconscious - the wish that underlay in all his actions and the basic carnal desire. He felt the gap draining his existence every time he looked at the girl in front of him… The one who now was standing outside the cave, seemingly enchanted by the falling sparkles - the one who had kept the still silence when they slept next to each other - the one who had briefly gained an entrance in his soul yet contemptuously abandoned it - consciously or not.
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A strangled cry.
Aeris bolted up from her sleeping position to see two glowing eyes open in a start, staring at her. Somehow, the sight sent a chill down her spine.
Frightened tears.
Aeris struggled to contain them inside but found the task impossible. The panic of the nightmare began to take form in the inky darkness.
Death was such a frightening concept.
Unable to stand the suffocating air, Aeris abruptly got up and went outside.
Her heaving chest seemed to burst from lack of air. She fell on the cold blanket of snow, ignoring the consequences. She lied there, smothering her own silent screams with a fist in her mouth. Her whole body seemed to be on fire - and contrary to what she previously assumed, the unbearable chill that now enveloped her body seemed to make it worse.
Gods… what a nightmare.
… Nevermind the overwhelming darkness that seemed to shut off everything that she knew. Or the terrible sense of inability to breathe. The horrible choking, the unbearable pain. They all were nothing compared to the panic, the sheer terror that came over her… that shut off all rational thoughts, numbed the excruciating pain itself. She felt as if she was turning insane, feeling the cold breath of death on her neck. The sensation came over like an electric wave, jolting her body in uncontrollable sobs.
… Cast away, with no one to cling to. How devastating it is to have no one to assure you that it was a dream, to keep you from passing out in the dreadful shock - to buoy you upwards, to keep you afloat in the ocean of reality?
…It was so real.
The elusive sense of death was materialized by the genuine realization of the physical reality. The absence of the warmth that she yearned for, the silence that thickened with her choking sobs, and the fact that she was kneeling on this condescending plains of snow. She was lamenting this …dream, that spoke so hauntingly to her unconscious mind - the dream that showed something that she dreaded the most, but left a room for doubt - and she had no one to find comfort in its obscurity, no one to deny that this dream was significant, no one to kiss her temple and tell her it was all right. Gods, even if the words were all pretense the gesture would've been ardent - just the slight touch, the silver connection would have been…
… If given the choice, which would you choose?
Eternal solitude, or End of your life?
… Are they really different?
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He felt trapped while he reluctantly rose and walked to the entrance of the cave. He noted the icy wind that seemed to slap his cheeks. And there she was, collapsed on the unrelenting plain of snow, striving to stifle the frightened whimper that she couldn't control.
He knew so well of the demons that crouched deep in his being, the ache that could at any moment be triggered. The painful longing and the sheer terror that he endured while waking up at night, banging on the glass surface that trapped him. Fighting the hot tears that escaped him, trying to still his writhing body - and he had felt as if he was losing his mind - and he had half-wished he was.
He felt as if a valve was placed in his heart that tightened every time he threatened to break down. He indulged in the comfort of the cage he dwelled in. The deeper he sunk into the trap he created for himself, the more apathy he felt. And apathy was one thing he could use to block himself from the terror of his childhood, the times when he could not defend himself against the unknown forces that plagued him every breathing moment.
The cold wind whipped around his bare chest, and he drew in his breath sharply. It was then he realized that the weather had become vicious - and that it had been a considerable amount of time. Dammit, he couldn't think when he was around her.
Cetra's body had stopped writhing violently – actually, he noted with much agitation, she had stopped moving at all. The scenery stretched to eternity in bare white. Her small form was set like an inky blot on a fresh sheet of paper. She was sprawled, like a crumpled flower fallen from its stalk.
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The hesitation and a sense of uncertainty coiled within him like a snake.
It was almost worse than loneliness. The damp feel of isolation was passive, forever remaining within him. This, on the contrary, was eating at him with the urgency of action. She was too close and too vulnerable and he was pressed to execute the first step.
With much apprehension, he stepped outside the cave.
He grabbed her wrist and knelt on the snow, feeling for a pulse. He was almost bewildered that she was tangible. The pounding was very faint. With his jaw set, he tipped the Cetra's head back and put two fingers on her throat, searching for a sign of life that pulsated within her.
With one fluid movement, he placed his arms beneath her and stood up. He positioned his arm so that her head had a support. The pale face was flushed with a strong tinge of pink, whether it from the outburst of emotion or cold he didn't know. Her hair was plastered to her tear-soaked face.
When he retreated to the corner of the cave they occupied, he set her down against the wall. He clasped her hands, feeling their temperature. With his right hand he cupped her cheek, willing the blood to return.
It felt so unnatural, so unreal to actually touch the being he only stared at for such a long time. Her body was damp and her skin clung to his hands. The warmth of his hands against her left a subtle mark of peach - ones that faded away with the rhythm of her breathing.
He was alarmed when the Cetra let out a small groan, and even more so when a shade of green peered through the thick lashes.
Her eyes were glazed, like liquid crystal. She blinked, and he felt as if the whole world blinked with her – everything that he focused on extinguished in a brief flame. The utter darkness lingered for a moment, then the green fire revived itself – this time as two round orbs that, so painfully slowly, took in the sight around her.
…
A trice of vacant stare. Then he saw the realization sink into her like a thousand bricks smashed against her frail skull, and his hold on her tightened momentarily.
He felt, rather than heard, the soft gasp she made that brushed over his lips.
A blind jolt.
"No, stay."
His voice sounded odd, an intruder to this seemingly-inanimate world.
… This isn't what it seems.
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… Gods, damn this cave.
Too dark to see anything now except her frightened eyes reflecting the dying sun. Too silent here not to hear her ragged breathing, too close against his ear. Too cold now to feel anything but her curling fingers against his and the heat on her flushed cheeks.
He broke all contact.
He abruptly rose. He suddenly felt tall – too tall when compared to the form crouched in the desolate corner. Too strong in contrast to the girl trembling in the freezing wind. Too monstrous when in front of her emerald eyes and coral lips, when against the soft feel of her hair, when facing the solitary tear that was trailing down her pale cheek. Too…
He roughly grabbed the leather cloak that was crumpled with the rest of his clothing. The steel edge of Masamune clanked on the stone floor, and rolled to his feet.
The cool silver looked too alluring for his trembling hands, he longed to return to the only certainty he knew. He dared not to allow his fingers to touch the tempting edge – he would never be able to stop himself.
He felt her eyes on him as he moved closer to her. He knew that she was still midst the thick cloud of daze, and he felt grateful that she was too swayed to make any abrupt movement when he knelt in front of her. He knew that the burning of his heart would cause him to strike her if she did.
He drew the sable cloak around her slight form, and brought the ends together at the side of her neck. His slender fingers tempered with her hair as he worked the knot. He saw her close her eyes, and felt her shudder.
…
Gods, how pathetic.
How so fucking pathetic, standing out here in the cold, watching the dizzy parade of snow. The white flakes landed on his body, then melted instantly. He imagined that they made a hiss, a silent plea long ignored…
Coward.
What was he afraid of? He was conscious that he could take her slender throat and squeeze until the sparkling eyes slid shut. Hell, he could even suddenly push her down on the cold stone floor and violate her – yet would still be able to proceed with his plans.
His fist clenched and he felt like slamming it against the wall he leaned on.
Was it the assumption that he had wanted to rescue her, touch her that delivered the blow? Was he afraid that the Cetra would forget how dire she was in need, and that he was rather forced to save her – due to the mission that "he" was on? Would she forget that she was just a puppet in his intricate scheme, that the position she beheld him was purely coincidental?
He let his thoughts race, trying to define the pounding that rammed against his chest, trying to justify it. He vainly tried to prove that the heat that suddenly circulated his body didn't exist, that anything and everything was of no concern to him. He…
He suddenly heard leather scraping against the stone surface, and a struggle of feet. His eyes darted inside the cave.
The Cetra was standing inside the lonely cave. It was hardly visible, but her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, and her eyes sparkled.
He was frozen on the spot as she slowly moved towards him, the cloak trailing behind her. He noticed how her breathing left her lips as a white cloud, and knew she was better.
She didn't move next to him. Rather, she stayed inside of the cave, slightly leaning on the opposite wall that faced him.
"Thank you."
Was that what he was afraid of?
Her voice was soft, so infinitely genuine, that he wanted to run his finger through the words, wanted to feel them against his skin – like a warm wind in the midst of the sun.
"I remembered…"
…Such ambiguous words.
Sephiroth didn't reply, he just kept staring at the horizon that was no longer visible. He felt her uncomfortably fidgeting after that, and a smirk tugged on his lips.
A sigh.
Then he heard her retreat back to the corner.
Was it some kind of a refuge?
Sephiroth now closed his eyes, and he felt the cold chill of the weather envelop him. But that was okay. He let his heartbeat settle, no longer letting his head badger him with the traitorous things called thoughts. The snowflakes kept falling, as an endless train that never stopped, a regular rhythm that vibrated with every breath.
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… I want to live – I want to taste the salty tears down my cheek, I want to kiss your lips to seal my fate. I want to plunge myself into hands of destiny, I want to take chances… I want to feel my heart beating against yours, I want to feel the blood rushing through m veins, I want to feel the pulsating rhythm of life surging through me – defining my life into something more that just mediocrity…
When I cry, you should wipe away my tears. When I smile, I want you to kiss my lips. When I go to sleep, I want to be in your arms. When I wake up at night, your lovely eyes should already be there for me…
Do I dare to be so selfish?
Or is it not selfish at all?
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…
…
AN: Warning: Expect an abrupt and unpleasant mood change.
Very important: In this chapter I tried to portray Seph in a radically different way. I now think Sephiroth is capable of feelings, even love. (I watched the movies of the game!) That's what I meant by all that Jenova stuff earlier on. Sephiroth must have loved his "mother" dearly to sacrifice everything he had like that. Now if he can just turn that towards Aeris… (Of course, he is FAR from even liking Aeris now. This chapter… nothing really happened, except me elaborating on the character's thoughts again. Sigh.)
Stress of being away from her group + Agitation at being with Sephiroth + Extremely horrifying dream which prophesies her death + Three days of extreme toil and mental strain + Renewed sense of solitude + Cold weather that probably is like negative 100 degrees = Aeris passing out CAN happen!!
Here's a little dialogue (that actually happened):
Me: Hey, think YOU are Seph, Aeris had this really horrifying dream about her near death. So she's passed out on the snow. And now she's barely breathing and her body temperature is too low. Her clothes are soaking wet. There's no one out there but you two. What would be the logical thing to do?
Him: *silence, then evil grin* Sephiroth has his needs… ^^
Me: *facefaults!*
^^ I understand that the next logical thing for Sephiroth to do is prolly to remove Aeris' wet clothing and massage her or something until her body temperature returns to normal. … But that's WAY too quick, no?
Things you should remember:
1. Sephiroth NEEDS Aeris for his mission – the black materia and holy and all that stuff.
2. I think Seph should sleep only w/ his pants – I mean, how could you sleep with that restricting leather straps and the shoulder shields and the cape??? (And I dare not take off THAT one ^^)
3. I had the biggest writer's block so I'm infinitely sorry for the sap that overflows in this chapter.
4. I infinitely appreciate any reviews!!
Thank you people who e-mailed me to check on me during the long void. And everyone who ever bothered to leave a review. *sob* That is what pushed me to write this chapter, push through the writer's block as CruelShadow said.
How terrifying it is, to think that one can dwell so unconcernedly in this unknown plain of time. The very idea that one might attempt to define the word beyond its worldly meaning is absurd. We take the concept for granted – for the worlds before and after life are completely unknown to us and therefore even more dreadful. We are unable to even grasp this mere transition from that world to the next.
How many times have I felt like giving up, when haunted by the demons that emerge from myself, when bleeding from the cutting reality that threatens to dominate me, when confronted by the sheer fear that when I do indeed part from this life that I will not have known whatever it is I'm seeking for, or when I'm just exhausted from the labor that is living?
… What possesses people even to "attempt" to go through the loneliness, the dejection, the humiliation, the loss, the tears that can't be stopped and must be shed throughout life? Are the joys and happiness of the world really that abundant to balance the toils performed to attain them?
Beyond the fear, the obligation of the kinship ties and just plain ignorance, what do "we" have that pushes us – to take the next breath?
I don't know…
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It was freezing.
The preposterous snow kept falling, covering everything within sight with the deceitful white.
Yet one couldn't help gazing at the scene with longing eyes, while ignoring the hands that were turning blue – one couldn't help but find beauty in the plain façade.
Three days of trudging in the wet snow, the unsettling silence upsetting the steady rhythm of his boots. Three days of fierce struggle with sleep, determined not to be the first one to succumb to the traitorous unconsciousness. Three days of completely denying his presence - even when his heartbeats seemed to vibrate through the desolate walls, even with his inviting warmth practically glowing in the frigid chill of night.
Aeris let out a sigh and hugged her knees. She felt his eyes on her back, and an electric chill shot through her body. …The prickling sensation was somehow pleasant.
…
He leaned against the stone wall of the cave, allowing himself a sigh. He eyed her small form that huddled in front of the entrance, which did little to ease her trembling.
He brushed the silver bangs out of his eyes in irritation. His plan was ruined: the group led by Strife failed to keep up due to the snow. He also was positive that the Cetra - shaking like a leaf already - would collapse if they journeyed through the unforgiving storm. That would be the biggest blunder of all.
...In my veins courses the blood of the Ancients - I am one of the rightful heirs of the planet.
He still remembered the fiery zeal that burned in him when he uttered the words in front of Jenova - the creature that proclaimed herself his mother and declared that he obey her.
Jenova contrasted sharply in features with the Cetra who now sighed and buried her head in her hands. The dark, beady eyes had none of the emerald sparkle of the Cetra. The veined flesh that hung limply to her body clashed with the creamy skin that glowed with a color of peach. Jenova's body of the shielded metal that seemed void of life was nothing like the warmth the compact body of the Cetra radiated. The first impression of his mother - and he was ashamed to admit it - was repulsion.
...Was he so desperate as to consent having such a deplorable being as his mother?
He quickly erased the thought from his mind. Subconsciously, he might have noted that it was a fantasy - yet it was one so sweet in his jagged life that it burned through the white slates.
The notion of having someone - one who would fill his void that became unbearable - was such a blinding thought. It engraved into his mind, blazing through all logic he knew, leaving him with nothing but the desire to hold on.
The unsatiable void now tormented him with a vengeance, like a reopened wound - like the bloody lips it spoke to him in the words that only he could understand.
It was a longing so powerful that it became unconscious - the wish that underlay in all his actions and the basic carnal desire. He felt the gap draining his existence every time he looked at the girl in front of him… The one who now was standing outside the cave, seemingly enchanted by the falling sparkles - the one who had kept the still silence when they slept next to each other - the one who had briefly gained an entrance in his soul yet contemptuously abandoned it - consciously or not.
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A strangled cry.
Aeris bolted up from her sleeping position to see two glowing eyes open in a start, staring at her. Somehow, the sight sent a chill down her spine.
Frightened tears.
Aeris struggled to contain them inside but found the task impossible. The panic of the nightmare began to take form in the inky darkness.
Death was such a frightening concept.
Unable to stand the suffocating air, Aeris abruptly got up and went outside.
Her heaving chest seemed to burst from lack of air. She fell on the cold blanket of snow, ignoring the consequences. She lied there, smothering her own silent screams with a fist in her mouth. Her whole body seemed to be on fire - and contrary to what she previously assumed, the unbearable chill that now enveloped her body seemed to make it worse.
Gods… what a nightmare.
… Nevermind the overwhelming darkness that seemed to shut off everything that she knew. Or the terrible sense of inability to breathe. The horrible choking, the unbearable pain. They all were nothing compared to the panic, the sheer terror that came over her… that shut off all rational thoughts, numbed the excruciating pain itself. She felt as if she was turning insane, feeling the cold breath of death on her neck. The sensation came over like an electric wave, jolting her body in uncontrollable sobs.
… Cast away, with no one to cling to. How devastating it is to have no one to assure you that it was a dream, to keep you from passing out in the dreadful shock - to buoy you upwards, to keep you afloat in the ocean of reality?
…It was so real.
The elusive sense of death was materialized by the genuine realization of the physical reality. The absence of the warmth that she yearned for, the silence that thickened with her choking sobs, and the fact that she was kneeling on this condescending plains of snow. She was lamenting this …dream, that spoke so hauntingly to her unconscious mind - the dream that showed something that she dreaded the most, but left a room for doubt - and she had no one to find comfort in its obscurity, no one to deny that this dream was significant, no one to kiss her temple and tell her it was all right. Gods, even if the words were all pretense the gesture would've been ardent - just the slight touch, the silver connection would have been…
… If given the choice, which would you choose?
Eternal solitude, or End of your life?
… Are they really different?
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He felt trapped while he reluctantly rose and walked to the entrance of the cave. He noted the icy wind that seemed to slap his cheeks. And there she was, collapsed on the unrelenting plain of snow, striving to stifle the frightened whimper that she couldn't control.
He knew so well of the demons that crouched deep in his being, the ache that could at any moment be triggered. The painful longing and the sheer terror that he endured while waking up at night, banging on the glass surface that trapped him. Fighting the hot tears that escaped him, trying to still his writhing body - and he had felt as if he was losing his mind - and he had half-wished he was.
He felt as if a valve was placed in his heart that tightened every time he threatened to break down. He indulged in the comfort of the cage he dwelled in. The deeper he sunk into the trap he created for himself, the more apathy he felt. And apathy was one thing he could use to block himself from the terror of his childhood, the times when he could not defend himself against the unknown forces that plagued him every breathing moment.
The cold wind whipped around his bare chest, and he drew in his breath sharply. It was then he realized that the weather had become vicious - and that it had been a considerable amount of time. Dammit, he couldn't think when he was around her.
Cetra's body had stopped writhing violently – actually, he noted with much agitation, she had stopped moving at all. The scenery stretched to eternity in bare white. Her small form was set like an inky blot on a fresh sheet of paper. She was sprawled, like a crumpled flower fallen from its stalk.
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The hesitation and a sense of uncertainty coiled within him like a snake.
It was almost worse than loneliness. The damp feel of isolation was passive, forever remaining within him. This, on the contrary, was eating at him with the urgency of action. She was too close and too vulnerable and he was pressed to execute the first step.
With much apprehension, he stepped outside the cave.
He grabbed her wrist and knelt on the snow, feeling for a pulse. He was almost bewildered that she was tangible. The pounding was very faint. With his jaw set, he tipped the Cetra's head back and put two fingers on her throat, searching for a sign of life that pulsated within her.
With one fluid movement, he placed his arms beneath her and stood up. He positioned his arm so that her head had a support. The pale face was flushed with a strong tinge of pink, whether it from the outburst of emotion or cold he didn't know. Her hair was plastered to her tear-soaked face.
When he retreated to the corner of the cave they occupied, he set her down against the wall. He clasped her hands, feeling their temperature. With his right hand he cupped her cheek, willing the blood to return.
It felt so unnatural, so unreal to actually touch the being he only stared at for such a long time. Her body was damp and her skin clung to his hands. The warmth of his hands against her left a subtle mark of peach - ones that faded away with the rhythm of her breathing.
He was alarmed when the Cetra let out a small groan, and even more so when a shade of green peered through the thick lashes.
Her eyes were glazed, like liquid crystal. She blinked, and he felt as if the whole world blinked with her – everything that he focused on extinguished in a brief flame. The utter darkness lingered for a moment, then the green fire revived itself – this time as two round orbs that, so painfully slowly, took in the sight around her.
…
A trice of vacant stare. Then he saw the realization sink into her like a thousand bricks smashed against her frail skull, and his hold on her tightened momentarily.
He felt, rather than heard, the soft gasp she made that brushed over his lips.
A blind jolt.
"No, stay."
His voice sounded odd, an intruder to this seemingly-inanimate world.
… This isn't what it seems.
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… Gods, damn this cave.
Too dark to see anything now except her frightened eyes reflecting the dying sun. Too silent here not to hear her ragged breathing, too close against his ear. Too cold now to feel anything but her curling fingers against his and the heat on her flushed cheeks.
He broke all contact.
He abruptly rose. He suddenly felt tall – too tall when compared to the form crouched in the desolate corner. Too strong in contrast to the girl trembling in the freezing wind. Too monstrous when in front of her emerald eyes and coral lips, when against the soft feel of her hair, when facing the solitary tear that was trailing down her pale cheek. Too…
He roughly grabbed the leather cloak that was crumpled with the rest of his clothing. The steel edge of Masamune clanked on the stone floor, and rolled to his feet.
The cool silver looked too alluring for his trembling hands, he longed to return to the only certainty he knew. He dared not to allow his fingers to touch the tempting edge – he would never be able to stop himself.
He felt her eyes on him as he moved closer to her. He knew that she was still midst the thick cloud of daze, and he felt grateful that she was too swayed to make any abrupt movement when he knelt in front of her. He knew that the burning of his heart would cause him to strike her if she did.
He drew the sable cloak around her slight form, and brought the ends together at the side of her neck. His slender fingers tempered with her hair as he worked the knot. He saw her close her eyes, and felt her shudder.
…
Gods, how pathetic.
How so fucking pathetic, standing out here in the cold, watching the dizzy parade of snow. The white flakes landed on his body, then melted instantly. He imagined that they made a hiss, a silent plea long ignored…
Coward.
What was he afraid of? He was conscious that he could take her slender throat and squeeze until the sparkling eyes slid shut. Hell, he could even suddenly push her down on the cold stone floor and violate her – yet would still be able to proceed with his plans.
His fist clenched and he felt like slamming it against the wall he leaned on.
Was it the assumption that he had wanted to rescue her, touch her that delivered the blow? Was he afraid that the Cetra would forget how dire she was in need, and that he was rather forced to save her – due to the mission that "he" was on? Would she forget that she was just a puppet in his intricate scheme, that the position she beheld him was purely coincidental?
He let his thoughts race, trying to define the pounding that rammed against his chest, trying to justify it. He vainly tried to prove that the heat that suddenly circulated his body didn't exist, that anything and everything was of no concern to him. He…
He suddenly heard leather scraping against the stone surface, and a struggle of feet. His eyes darted inside the cave.
The Cetra was standing inside the lonely cave. It was hardly visible, but her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, and her eyes sparkled.
He was frozen on the spot as she slowly moved towards him, the cloak trailing behind her. He noticed how her breathing left her lips as a white cloud, and knew she was better.
She didn't move next to him. Rather, she stayed inside of the cave, slightly leaning on the opposite wall that faced him.
"Thank you."
Was that what he was afraid of?
Her voice was soft, so infinitely genuine, that he wanted to run his finger through the words, wanted to feel them against his skin – like a warm wind in the midst of the sun.
"I remembered…"
…Such ambiguous words.
Sephiroth didn't reply, he just kept staring at the horizon that was no longer visible. He felt her uncomfortably fidgeting after that, and a smirk tugged on his lips.
A sigh.
Then he heard her retreat back to the corner.
Was it some kind of a refuge?
Sephiroth now closed his eyes, and he felt the cold chill of the weather envelop him. But that was okay. He let his heartbeat settle, no longer letting his head badger him with the traitorous things called thoughts. The snowflakes kept falling, as an endless train that never stopped, a regular rhythm that vibrated with every breath.
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… I want to live – I want to taste the salty tears down my cheek, I want to kiss your lips to seal my fate. I want to plunge myself into hands of destiny, I want to take chances… I want to feel my heart beating against yours, I want to feel the blood rushing through m veins, I want to feel the pulsating rhythm of life surging through me – defining my life into something more that just mediocrity…
When I cry, you should wipe away my tears. When I smile, I want you to kiss my lips. When I go to sleep, I want to be in your arms. When I wake up at night, your lovely eyes should already be there for me…
Do I dare to be so selfish?
Or is it not selfish at all?
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…
…
AN: Warning: Expect an abrupt and unpleasant mood change.
Very important: In this chapter I tried to portray Seph in a radically different way. I now think Sephiroth is capable of feelings, even love. (I watched the movies of the game!) That's what I meant by all that Jenova stuff earlier on. Sephiroth must have loved his "mother" dearly to sacrifice everything he had like that. Now if he can just turn that towards Aeris… (Of course, he is FAR from even liking Aeris now. This chapter… nothing really happened, except me elaborating on the character's thoughts again. Sigh.)
Stress of being away from her group + Agitation at being with Sephiroth + Extremely horrifying dream which prophesies her death + Three days of extreme toil and mental strain + Renewed sense of solitude + Cold weather that probably is like negative 100 degrees = Aeris passing out CAN happen!!
Here's a little dialogue (that actually happened):
Me: Hey, think YOU are Seph, Aeris had this really horrifying dream about her near death. So she's passed out on the snow. And now she's barely breathing and her body temperature is too low. Her clothes are soaking wet. There's no one out there but you two. What would be the logical thing to do?
Him: *silence, then evil grin* Sephiroth has his needs… ^^
Me: *facefaults!*
^^ I understand that the next logical thing for Sephiroth to do is prolly to remove Aeris' wet clothing and massage her or something until her body temperature returns to normal. … But that's WAY too quick, no?
Things you should remember:
1. Sephiroth NEEDS Aeris for his mission – the black materia and holy and all that stuff.
2. I think Seph should sleep only w/ his pants – I mean, how could you sleep with that restricting leather straps and the shoulder shields and the cape??? (And I dare not take off THAT one ^^)
3. I had the biggest writer's block so I'm infinitely sorry for the sap that overflows in this chapter.
4. I infinitely appreciate any reviews!!
Thank you people who e-mailed me to check on me during the long void. And everyone who ever bothered to leave a review. *sob* That is what pushed me to write this chapter, push through the writer's block as CruelShadow said.