Author's Note: . . .What else can CG do? Apparently, she's not out of ideas. Fanart for Chapter Five, Road Trip From Hell: http://www.geocities.com/warmblood.geo/Images/silverrose.jpg Just after Seph' chopped his hair off, so. . . And thanks to drakonlily, Lady Spoon/Cutiemew, Athena -- my inspiration, along with Frank Verderosa, for writing -- and all the other readers and reviewers. This chapter is mostly just to show the state and emotions Sephiroth is going through at this point. Sorry for the shortness.
Silver Rose
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
October 23, 3076
Lunchtime. Café Faust. Kalm. 11:39 A.M.
"Ooooh. . .ninety-nine bottles of --"
"Shut. The hell. Up." - Sephiroth H. and Aeris G., on the way to Kalm
I think my endless streak of car-songs got to her somewhere before we left Midgar, and by the time we were half-way here, my arm was so black I thought it would sprout oil if she punched me again. I can't help it; annoying people is a fun and interesting habit. Doesn't everyone know that? We're stopped in Kalm for some lunch, though I've got bacon and eggs and she has a salad. We're so different. . .I wonder why she came with me again.
She's got her eyes on the top of my head, hard and demanding; she knows I know she wants something, and suddenly, I want to jump up in a butler's suit and yell out, in a very snobbish voice, "Yeeeess?!" Hey, I can dream, can't I? I just look up and wait for her to say something.
She shifts uneasily, now that I can see her, and slouches when she asks, "So, is there any set destination to this trip?"
I remember clearly, this is Aeris, one woman not to disappoint and/or piss off early in the morning. I really don't want to disappoint her, either, but I don't know where there is to hide out where Midgar hasn't been connected in the past few months. Except. . . "Great Glacier, unless you have any better ideas?" I go back to the paper for a moment, letting this sink in on her. Although I can almost hear her twitching inside, I don't look up.
Any contradiction of what I usually am would be like. . .caring.
She grabs the paper and starts whacking me over the head with it. I'm lucky there aren't many people eating here today, or they'd be snickering at me getting beaten with the crossword puzzle. She stops. "Good God, Seph, I packed for something very, very warm, not the Great-fucking-Glacier!" That's the spirit. Don't be so stingy on the obscinities. "We can't go there! For one, there's no place to stay without freezing to death, and two, we don't have survival skil --"
"You don't have survival skills. I do." And, really, I'm the only one that needs to be kept alive and hidden at this time, unless this paper says you killed Tseng and not some madman. "And look, there's always that old guy What's-His-Name. He's got a cabin that he lets anybody stay with. Went there on ShinRa business and delivered food. He's a perfectly nice guy and he'll understand this shit." I sit back as if that's that. And really, what else is there to say, besides the comment I left out in order to save my own ass?
She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head so hard I think it'll fly off. "No. Fuck you. We're not going to the Great Glacier. I don't care how much we have to argue, I'm not moving until you decide on a much warmer place, and I know you need me to survive. So, c'mon, new idea."
My teeth are grinding so hard the other table's patrons look over at me. She's not budging an inch, and she's sealing off her weaknesses. It's checkmate and gridlock rolled into one and pushed into a high-tech vault. Ladies and gentlemen, a Midgar Zolom wouldn't move us. "Aeris. . .listen very, very carefully. . . Anywhere else is gonna have ShinRa ties, so we need to go somewhere remote. . ."
She only shifts to where she's in her chair a bit deeper. "I'm not going to the Great Glacier. How's about Costa del Sol? I know they've got some bads experience with ShinRa, so they wouldn't know, right? That works, huh?"
I growl deep in my throat, walk forward, and grab her arm, trying to lift her up and drag her out. "It's still too public, Aeris! They'd know we were there if one of the locals even saw me in the paper. Until I get some facial change, we can't be out in the Goddamn open like this!"
She puts all her weight into, I'm guessing, her ass, shaking her head. "I'll scream. I'll scream and tell everyone just what you did if you don't let go of me and head to Costa del Sol," she warns.
I don't listen, just point my finger at her and then jerk it at the door. "Aeris. C'mon, Aeris."
"One. . ."
"Oh, for God's sake, Aeris! It's just a cabin for a few weeks!"
"Two. . ."
"Dammit! Get up! We're going to the Great Glacier, and that's all there is to it!"
"Three. . ."
* * * * *
Costa del Sol.
A beach town, full of happy vacationers and surfboarders looking for a good challenge or a good wave. Then you've got the real weirdos that go pale before they even leave the bar, and have to stick around in order to regain a tan. A fun, family-like place, where everyone can lay back, kick their shoes off, and call it a good time.
So, where am I?
"The whole stain-removal package, for a low, low price of twenty-eight gil! Order today!"
Watching a fucking stain-remover infomercial in our Inn room, hanging off the bed by my legs and praying I can pass out from a blood-rush to the head. So far, so bad. I'm still awake and pissed-off.
It's been like this for three and a half damn days.
She's down on the beach with a margarita, probably flirting with anyone she sees and getting in some swimming in the setting sun. I'm reading an 800 number upside-down and wondering if I would get a few Satanic tips if I called 8998 instead of 8668. I really doubt it. That's probably the relationship helpline they're advertising on the soap opera channel. I can just picture that happening to me.
"Hello. My girlfriend is a controlling little bitch that forced me to go to Costa del Sol instead of the Great Glacier. I need help."
"Yes. Yes, you do."
Of course, the reason for me going outside is only half-obvious. For one, I never tanned well, always turned out red as a matador's flag. The other is because I murdered a Turk, and pretty much took his whole identity with the suit. Someone knocks on the door. I call out the natural "Who is it?"
Room service.
For the first time today, I bound up and hurry to the door, smoothing my dead-man suit down and tossing the remote on the bed. Yes, you heard me right. THE bed. As in, not two separate beds.
Aeris and I are still trying to get over their narrow availability.
I take the bottle of vodka, just as I'd ordered it a few minutes ago, and the waiter looks at me oddly. "Hey, haven't I seen you before?"
"Probably not," I tell him.
He shrugs it off, mutters something, and holds out his hand, just barely so I can see it. A tip? I never give tips, but he's been such a bother. . . I open the bottle, grab his wrist, and pour some into his hand, proceeding to shove that into his face, push him out the door, and slam it behind him. I half-flip onto the bed after closing the bottle to keep a jumpy attitude present.
Score one for me.
I fill up one glass for Aeris when she comes back. Actually, it's for me when she comes back, refuses, and I down it like bottled water. The rest of the bottle goes with me to the chair I've set up by my open window, "paradise" breeze wafting inside and waving through the hair I have left.
My. . .fucking. . .hair!!
The hair was left on Elmyra's kitchen floor, and ever since, I've been running around with a jagged cut-line because of my inexperience as a makeshift barber. And getting, needless to say, plenty of shit because of it.
Forgetting that trouble for now, I squint and take a drink before looking down to the beach area. Aeris isn't exactly flirting like an airhead. She's actually lying peacefully, reading a book in one of those revealing two-pieces the men like to drool over. I'm not going to kid myself. I have been among those people for some time now. Aeris, although two-faced and threatening when she needs to be, is no exception for me. Had I the choice, I'd march down to that beach right now and. . .
My thoughts, better left unsaid, string on until she moves and starts back toward the Inn, which almost forces me to set the bottle down, and resume my position upside-down on the bed. The infomercial's repeating, and my mouth is hung open when she walks in. I start silently mouthing the words to the stain-removing demonstration and she gives me a long stare.
"Have you been drinking again?"
It wasn't too good the first time, when you walked in and saw me nursing a whiskey bottle and humming a sing-along song, was it, Aeris? I can see why she worries, but I still point straight at the bottle on the nightstand. "Glass by the TV if you want some. Move quick, this offer goes fast. Call in, today!" I chuckle softly as she shakes her head, grabs her dress and coat, and walks back out of the room to the bathroom.
I'm suffering from an intense cabin fever, I concluded earlier. I'll go mad in weeks, and become a vegetable that knows the late-night television schedules in less than two months if I don't get out of here.
Or maybe I'll get alcohol poisoning before that second stage.
Back outside, the sun has just dipped below the horizon, and a few surfboarders are probably gathering their equpment for an evening surf. I know the schedule of the locals in only about four days of sitting at my window and counting the people sitting at the bar across the street.
Aeris, a kind of temporary mother-figure to me, comes in a few minutes later and tosses her clothes into the corner pile she's made. We plan on finding somewhere to do our laundry soon. She smiles sadly, shakes her head again, and forces me straight onto my side of the bed. She would be great with the elderly, I figure. I grudgingly help her out, finally settling into a comfortable position when she turns off the lights and adds herself to the other side.
"Hey, Seph. . ."
"Mmngh." A feather pillow is all I taste for a solid six seconds before I lift my head, still staring at it. "Huh?"
I can't see a thing, but I don't hear her move. "Remember our little deal?"
My heart hits my throat. We had a deal that, should one of us develop feelings for the other, the former would take the floor until we knew what to do about it. This was for safety's sake, just so we'd survive the night. "Uh-huh." I dread what she's about to say, but all the while, I just want to hear it come out of her, then have her roll over and shove her tongue down my throat. Although I fess up to these silently, I happen to like this bed, so my own tongue stays bitten.
". . .It still stands."
I try not to sound let down when I sink my face back into the pillow to muffle some choice words. I can almost feel a smirk coming off of her when she says, "Goodniiight, Seeeph."
I'll spend tomorrow deciding which is worse: Aeris or this hellish cabin fever.
Silver Rose
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
October 23, 3076
Lunchtime. Café Faust. Kalm. 11:39 A.M.
"Ooooh. . .ninety-nine bottles of --"
"Shut. The hell. Up." - Sephiroth H. and Aeris G., on the way to Kalm
I think my endless streak of car-songs got to her somewhere before we left Midgar, and by the time we were half-way here, my arm was so black I thought it would sprout oil if she punched me again. I can't help it; annoying people is a fun and interesting habit. Doesn't everyone know that? We're stopped in Kalm for some lunch, though I've got bacon and eggs and she has a salad. We're so different. . .I wonder why she came with me again.
She's got her eyes on the top of my head, hard and demanding; she knows I know she wants something, and suddenly, I want to jump up in a butler's suit and yell out, in a very snobbish voice, "Yeeeess?!" Hey, I can dream, can't I? I just look up and wait for her to say something.
She shifts uneasily, now that I can see her, and slouches when she asks, "So, is there any set destination to this trip?"
I remember clearly, this is Aeris, one woman not to disappoint and/or piss off early in the morning. I really don't want to disappoint her, either, but I don't know where there is to hide out where Midgar hasn't been connected in the past few months. Except. . . "Great Glacier, unless you have any better ideas?" I go back to the paper for a moment, letting this sink in on her. Although I can almost hear her twitching inside, I don't look up.
Any contradiction of what I usually am would be like. . .caring.
She grabs the paper and starts whacking me over the head with it. I'm lucky there aren't many people eating here today, or they'd be snickering at me getting beaten with the crossword puzzle. She stops. "Good God, Seph, I packed for something very, very warm, not the Great-fucking-Glacier!" That's the spirit. Don't be so stingy on the obscinities. "We can't go there! For one, there's no place to stay without freezing to death, and two, we don't have survival skil --"
"You don't have survival skills. I do." And, really, I'm the only one that needs to be kept alive and hidden at this time, unless this paper says you killed Tseng and not some madman. "And look, there's always that old guy What's-His-Name. He's got a cabin that he lets anybody stay with. Went there on ShinRa business and delivered food. He's a perfectly nice guy and he'll understand this shit." I sit back as if that's that. And really, what else is there to say, besides the comment I left out in order to save my own ass?
She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head so hard I think it'll fly off. "No. Fuck you. We're not going to the Great Glacier. I don't care how much we have to argue, I'm not moving until you decide on a much warmer place, and I know you need me to survive. So, c'mon, new idea."
My teeth are grinding so hard the other table's patrons look over at me. She's not budging an inch, and she's sealing off her weaknesses. It's checkmate and gridlock rolled into one and pushed into a high-tech vault. Ladies and gentlemen, a Midgar Zolom wouldn't move us. "Aeris. . .listen very, very carefully. . . Anywhere else is gonna have ShinRa ties, so we need to go somewhere remote. . ."
She only shifts to where she's in her chair a bit deeper. "I'm not going to the Great Glacier. How's about Costa del Sol? I know they've got some bads experience with ShinRa, so they wouldn't know, right? That works, huh?"
I growl deep in my throat, walk forward, and grab her arm, trying to lift her up and drag her out. "It's still too public, Aeris! They'd know we were there if one of the locals even saw me in the paper. Until I get some facial change, we can't be out in the Goddamn open like this!"
She puts all her weight into, I'm guessing, her ass, shaking her head. "I'll scream. I'll scream and tell everyone just what you did if you don't let go of me and head to Costa del Sol," she warns.
I don't listen, just point my finger at her and then jerk it at the door. "Aeris. C'mon, Aeris."
"One. . ."
"Oh, for God's sake, Aeris! It's just a cabin for a few weeks!"
"Two. . ."
"Dammit! Get up! We're going to the Great Glacier, and that's all there is to it!"
"Three. . ."
* * * * *
Costa del Sol.
A beach town, full of happy vacationers and surfboarders looking for a good challenge or a good wave. Then you've got the real weirdos that go pale before they even leave the bar, and have to stick around in order to regain a tan. A fun, family-like place, where everyone can lay back, kick their shoes off, and call it a good time.
So, where am I?
"The whole stain-removal package, for a low, low price of twenty-eight gil! Order today!"
Watching a fucking stain-remover infomercial in our Inn room, hanging off the bed by my legs and praying I can pass out from a blood-rush to the head. So far, so bad. I'm still awake and pissed-off.
It's been like this for three and a half damn days.
She's down on the beach with a margarita, probably flirting with anyone she sees and getting in some swimming in the setting sun. I'm reading an 800 number upside-down and wondering if I would get a few Satanic tips if I called 8998 instead of 8668. I really doubt it. That's probably the relationship helpline they're advertising on the soap opera channel. I can just picture that happening to me.
"Hello. My girlfriend is a controlling little bitch that forced me to go to Costa del Sol instead of the Great Glacier. I need help."
"Yes. Yes, you do."
Of course, the reason for me going outside is only half-obvious. For one, I never tanned well, always turned out red as a matador's flag. The other is because I murdered a Turk, and pretty much took his whole identity with the suit. Someone knocks on the door. I call out the natural "Who is it?"
Room service.
For the first time today, I bound up and hurry to the door, smoothing my dead-man suit down and tossing the remote on the bed. Yes, you heard me right. THE bed. As in, not two separate beds.
Aeris and I are still trying to get over their narrow availability.
I take the bottle of vodka, just as I'd ordered it a few minutes ago, and the waiter looks at me oddly. "Hey, haven't I seen you before?"
"Probably not," I tell him.
He shrugs it off, mutters something, and holds out his hand, just barely so I can see it. A tip? I never give tips, but he's been such a bother. . . I open the bottle, grab his wrist, and pour some into his hand, proceeding to shove that into his face, push him out the door, and slam it behind him. I half-flip onto the bed after closing the bottle to keep a jumpy attitude present.
Score one for me.
I fill up one glass for Aeris when she comes back. Actually, it's for me when she comes back, refuses, and I down it like bottled water. The rest of the bottle goes with me to the chair I've set up by my open window, "paradise" breeze wafting inside and waving through the hair I have left.
My. . .fucking. . .hair!!
The hair was left on Elmyra's kitchen floor, and ever since, I've been running around with a jagged cut-line because of my inexperience as a makeshift barber. And getting, needless to say, plenty of shit because of it.
Forgetting that trouble for now, I squint and take a drink before looking down to the beach area. Aeris isn't exactly flirting like an airhead. She's actually lying peacefully, reading a book in one of those revealing two-pieces the men like to drool over. I'm not going to kid myself. I have been among those people for some time now. Aeris, although two-faced and threatening when she needs to be, is no exception for me. Had I the choice, I'd march down to that beach right now and. . .
My thoughts, better left unsaid, string on until she moves and starts back toward the Inn, which almost forces me to set the bottle down, and resume my position upside-down on the bed. The infomercial's repeating, and my mouth is hung open when she walks in. I start silently mouthing the words to the stain-removing demonstration and she gives me a long stare.
"Have you been drinking again?"
It wasn't too good the first time, when you walked in and saw me nursing a whiskey bottle and humming a sing-along song, was it, Aeris? I can see why she worries, but I still point straight at the bottle on the nightstand. "Glass by the TV if you want some. Move quick, this offer goes fast. Call in, today!" I chuckle softly as she shakes her head, grabs her dress and coat, and walks back out of the room to the bathroom.
I'm suffering from an intense cabin fever, I concluded earlier. I'll go mad in weeks, and become a vegetable that knows the late-night television schedules in less than two months if I don't get out of here.
Or maybe I'll get alcohol poisoning before that second stage.
Back outside, the sun has just dipped below the horizon, and a few surfboarders are probably gathering their equpment for an evening surf. I know the schedule of the locals in only about four days of sitting at my window and counting the people sitting at the bar across the street.
Aeris, a kind of temporary mother-figure to me, comes in a few minutes later and tosses her clothes into the corner pile she's made. We plan on finding somewhere to do our laundry soon. She smiles sadly, shakes her head again, and forces me straight onto my side of the bed. She would be great with the elderly, I figure. I grudgingly help her out, finally settling into a comfortable position when she turns off the lights and adds herself to the other side.
"Hey, Seph. . ."
"Mmngh." A feather pillow is all I taste for a solid six seconds before I lift my head, still staring at it. "Huh?"
I can't see a thing, but I don't hear her move. "Remember our little deal?"
My heart hits my throat. We had a deal that, should one of us develop feelings for the other, the former would take the floor until we knew what to do about it. This was for safety's sake, just so we'd survive the night. "Uh-huh." I dread what she's about to say, but all the while, I just want to hear it come out of her, then have her roll over and shove her tongue down my throat. Although I fess up to these silently, I happen to like this bed, so my own tongue stays bitten.
". . .It still stands."
I try not to sound let down when I sink my face back into the pillow to muffle some choice words. I can almost feel a smirk coming off of her when she says, "Goodniiight, Seeeph."
I'll spend tomorrow deciding which is worse: Aeris or this hellish cabin fever.