Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, not a single part of it.
Chapter 3: Truthful Notes
Ravyn moaned as her thoroughly soaked body started to feel again. Rain that lanced white pain through her upturned back persisted to fall upon her motionless form.
'Where am I? Fuck... Why am I in so much pain? Double fuck muffins! I can barely move and I have such a shit ass potty mouth! Grrr... Oh, so now instead of doing something productive like opening my eyes I'm letting my mind ramble on and on.'
Ravyn let herself moan again as she opened her eyes and moved her arms out from under her. She seemed to be in a courtyard of sorts. A cobble stone path that transformed into dirt wound up a mountain range to her right. On her left rose a leviathan of a mansion, it appeared to in an old ruined state. It was the only shelter in sight. Ravyn crawled a few agonizing feet towards the rickety looking manor.
'Arg this is getting me nowhere. I might as well stand up.' Her knees wobbled like jelly on a fork and pain spear down her spine but Ravyn could stand.
Meticulously the trembling girl made her way to the mansion. Stumbling on small pebbles and nearly collapsing in a pile of mud, Ravyn reached the massive entryway. Doors heavy and ominous leered at her.
'Okay, just open the doors. That's all I have to do...easy. Arg it's that or freeze out here in the rain! Please don't be locked.' Ravyn mentally screamed at the doors as she leaned all weight forwards attempting to open them. The doors, however, despite their shabby facade swung in easily. A shrill shriek resonated around the interior of the mansion walls as Ravyn toppled face first into the floor just inside the entryway.
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Vincent Valentine looked up as a scream reached his sensitive ears.
'I'm not dreaming right now, am I? That scream came from... a real person... not half imagined fiends.'
Vincent had no wish what-so-ever to socialize with cruel humans once again. The only human who had ever shown him kindness had passed into the life stream some time ago. They were not perfect in the least but those few who had awakened him, saved the world with him, had revenge with him, in a sense accepted him and though they had undoubtedly thought him a monster they had relied on him perhaps even respected him.
But with their passing at time's hands Vincent's sanity had grown more questionable, time leaving him unscratched, unchanged. The stares, the murmurs, the pointing finger, whispers had some time ago become unbearable, so Vincent locked himself away in the very mansion that held him in torment for so long.
Yet still something nagged at him, begging him to find the owner of the scream. Perhaps it was his own insatiable desire to see a human face again no matter the revulsion plastered on it or maybe it would prove to be the girl that appeared in his latest nightmare. The innocence of her voice did not seem compatible to the shroud of gray her from lurked behind.
Vincent rose form his sitting position against his old coffin in the basement of the ShinRa mansion in Nibbel. He winced slightly as the tips of his metal claws scraped against the stone floor, screeching up to greet his ears. Vincent's cape drifted behind him like the waves of an ocean as he climbed the spiral stairs up to the secret entrance on the second floor of the mansion. Minute creaks escaped from the hinges as part of the wall swung open.
Vincent glanced around the room that he had transformed from a cluttered, musty space into a pleasantly Gothic master bedroom. Though it seemed to be the smallest area to choose Vincent had wanted his room to be adjacent to the secret stairwell.
'Old memories don't die... Decrepit tough they may be their silent cries long ago rusted open the doors that would have held them back.'
Vincent glided down the grand staircase, his boots making sharp clicking sounds on the tile. Vincent froze at the sight before him. The entrance doors were open wide. Rain fell down with a soft patter on the tile floor. A girl lay sprawled on the tile unmoving. Long red hair floated in a pool of water like blood spreading from an open wound.
Vincent crossed the gap between himself and the scene in a few quick strides, shutting them with a resounding clang. His attention then, almost reluctantly turned to the unconscious intruder. Vincent kneeled down next to her still form gently turning her over.
The paleness of her features shocked him. 'She must have been out in the rain for hours...' Skin so bleached of color that it almost rivaled his own made the 3 freckles that trailed down her left cheekbone stand out. Small bow (A/N not a bow in your hair! The one with the arrows.) shaped lips looked tinged with blue and the beginnings of hypothermia. Full dark lashes contrasted sharply with her skin and eyebrows just as dark arched delicately on her forehead. Soaked clothing clung to her nearly making him blush at how...exposed...it made her look.
She shivered and clutched reflexively at his warmth next to her. 'I can't just let her die. Not even I am that heartless.' Vincent's mind thought as he scooped the hypothermic girl up in his arms.
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Ravyn slowly emerged into some form of consciousness. 'It's warm....' Ravyn sighed, in temporary contentment. A burning at the back of her throat notified her that she had some sort of flu. A silky material brushed against her bare skin.
'Bare...skin.......bare...s- Eeep!'
Ravyn opened her eyes in a flash and her accelerated breathing sounded loud and cumbrous in her ears. Her vision leisurely adjusted to the dim light. She quickly found that she lay in the heart of a rather large bed, her petite form lost and entangled in the within the covers.
Ravyn looked down at her self. 'Yup. Definitely naked...'
She carefully wrapped sheets over as much of her body as she could as she sat up. The four post king size bed Ravyn found herself in was placed in the middle of the wall opposite the door. Thin, gauzy black material draped around the bed from a hook in the ceiling. All in all the room gave the obvious impression of a sparsely furnished, Gothic master bedroom. A small fire burned in the fire place on the wall to Ravyn's right. It made her feel strangely at ease.
'I like to analyze people from objects they think are only indirectly related to them.' Ravyn thought to herself. 'I never thought it would actually come in handy though. But now it can tell me a little bit about the person who saved me...'
'The person who also undressed you...' a small voice in the back of her head said.
'Hey did you know that assumptions make an ass of you and me? AND WE ARE THE SAME PERSON! I'd rather analyze the room brain then ponder over useless embarrassing pieces of information. Hmmm.... Lets see this person obviously doesn't spend much time in their room unless this is just a guest room. I can tell from the sparse furnishings; there also isn't anything more then what's needed live. No pictures, no trinkets, not even something to indicate a hobby. Whoever this room belongs to is very ... practical. They also have a very dark side. They don't even try to mask it. Everything is either black or red. Together these colors are dreadfully aggressive for a bedroom. They have plenty of anger and guilt.'
Just then under Ravyn's scrutiny a flash of fresh color came to her eye.
'Purple? A purple pillow... purple's the color of humanity. It seems so lost in this room... I almost want to cry for it, that purple, this entire room reminds me so mush of-'
The sill air unexpectedly stirred carrying a strange lilting tune to Ravyn's ears. Haunting the story the prolonged notes told filled Ravyn's mind with sorrow and death. A life without hope. The melody called to her, taunting her. She gathered the black satin sheet off the bed, wrapping it tightly around her several times and tucking in the end.
"I hate being short." Ravyn sighed as she glanced down at the sheet piled around her feet. She shuffled about the room straining her hearing. The tune was muffled as if it had to pass through many walls just to reach her.
After several laps around the room Ravyn reluctantly decided that the melody was loudest from one particular spot on the wall opposite of the fireplace.
'Huh... how's that possible?' Ravyn pressed herself up against the wall. 'That pulling, begging music is definitely louder here...' She leaned into the section harder, the song teasing her senses. Small creaking sounds invaded upon the totality of the melody. 'What ...ooops!' Ravyn stumbled inward revealing a staircase that spiraled down into dark depths.
'This is weird... a secret passage, that gothic room, this music...' Ravyn thought as she descended down the aged stairs. 'Now all I need is for a vampire to jump out and drink me dry!' Her mind finished scoffing as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The lingering tune of achingly exquisite notes grew stronger, almost seeming to pulsate through her blood, singing in her system.
Ravyn proceeded along the dank stone hallway with exceeding anticipation. She stopped in front of the first door to her left. The monster of an entryway had aged with little grace. The metal hinges and rusted locks looked like they could be a good deterrent to the few who would have found them. In fact had the music not been playing Ravyn would have turned right back around.
Ravyn reached for the door handle and pushed, the clammy rusted metal grating against her skin. The door swung open without a sound to interrupt (a protest to it's first appearance). The full tumult of the song overwhelmed her as her eyes slowly traveled upward. A tall musician slightly elevated by the stairs he stood upon, back facing her was the songs maser and his hands held a bow atop a violin with elegant ease. The stranger's cloak swayed vaguely, in sync with his movements. A glint caught Ravyn's eye and she noticed that the hand which held the bow with such skill wasn't a hand but rather a metal claw. She marveled at how exact the appendage's movements were and how gentle it proved it's self to be by handling the bow so that not even a hair line scratch marred the wooden surface.
The song the musician played sent emotions to manifest themselves in Ravyn and she felt herself grow weak as a result. Sadness, anger, grief all were present in every single note the stranger made on his enchanting violin.
How much time passed while Ravyn listened, as if in a trance, from her position in the entryway floor, she will probably never know. But time would seem forever inconsequential in those lasting moments. Reluctantly Ravyn felt herself emerging back into realities' hands as the song cascaded to an end.
The musician lowered the violin with regret riding his shoulders and slowly turned around.