P E G A S U S ~rebirth~
A Final Fantasy VII Fanfiction, as written by Sunset Haloes (Momomiya Ichigo)
Chapter Two – That Rainy Day… ~last memories~
It was ironically a bad day the day that photo had been taken, the angry sky a rather bleak hue of dark navy and yet the aura of that item was powerful enough for his heart, even now, to painfully tighten in remorse.
At the bottom of the photograph knelt a lanky, dark-brown haired young lady; she wore a wide and feisty grin across her small face. There was a hint of mischief in her equally dark eyes that suggested that she got into trouble more often than not, and her choice in clothing also told of her ninja heritage; one of her hands were in mid-wave while they had pictured her and the other was wrapped around her comrade's big neck.
His fiery red fur seemed, in comparison to the weather, even fiercer that day, though his eyes were not terrifying and he wore a rather kind if slightly toothy smile for such a wild outer appearance.
The odd creature who sat next the saucy girl looked like a cross between a cat, wolf or dog, but beneath his marred body and golden eye lay the heart of a warrior - - - and rightfully so, being the last of an ancient battling clan.
To his right, and the last in their little mini-row was a truly odd beast indeed; a small, black and fuzzy mechanical kitten was giving its catty grin to the camera with a small silver microphone in its paw. Strangely enough, such a small creature could stand almost forehead – to – forehead with any of them; this was because of the giant, chubby robotic moogle it was riding on. The robotic moogle's large black eyes shone at the camera while his little purple wings fluttered slowly.
Above the remarkable duo stood a rigid old man with short blonde hair and glaring blue eyes. Donning a lance and a dirty mouth, this goggled man looked as if he could only be a war veteran - - - wrinkles had worn into him around the sides of his gruff face, where upon which there had been a creased half-scowl at the time. A wisp of smoke heralded from the cigarette at the corner of his mouth, and one of his hands were folded in contempt to the woman to his right.
With a prideful smile and shocking red eyes, this was the lady to whom the old man was protesting; her long, dark-brown locks almost looked black in the gray atmosphere, but it accented her scarlet orbs greatly. She wore a tight white shirt with what looked like black suspenders and a shining leather skirt, giving the look it seemed the lady desired, for that combined with her deep crimson gloves gave away her secret : she was a scrapper.
Hidden under his great amount of midnight black hair was the person beside her, his cold eyes boring into the picture as if it were his greatest enemy, a flash of gold (his claw) where the right hand should have been and a truly haunting countenance that froze the heart. A red cape adorned his shoulders as he stood stiffly.
Though that man was lean and pale, the large one above him in the third row seemed almost his polar opposite; darkened skin and chocolate eyes combined with a tough stare making him the picture of masculinity as well as determination in all that he seemed to do, that ever-steady look hiding a covert kindness for the people that he worked so hard for. His clothes consisted of simple brown shirt and ripped jade pants; like the dark-haired man next to him, they both shared a weapon-type arm, his being replaced with that of a silvery, sleek machine gun.
The torn man gazed brokenly into the frame, into the eyes that mirrored his, the strange marks upon him that united him with the rest of the 'family'; the Mako in his eyes, and the blank look that could not be classified as anywhere near a smile that his reflection wore; he was staring at himself back then, not knowing what would happen so soon after that, just keeping that uncaring glare as if it were the most prized thing he had owned.
Out of that rainy-day picture…
No, out of anything, any one of the people in there, the pair of eyes next to him there caught his every time he looked into that frame…
…every time.
It was her face, her pools of softened emerald that screamed out to him in the middle of the night; that peaceful, loving look that could only be possessed of a caring person with a huge heart. The glistening smile she wore almost brightened up the picture in his eyes; a single pink ribbon rested on her layers upon layers of rich brown hair, plaited into earthen braids and stopping her lower thighs. On her arm lay a gold bracelet, and she wore a red half-jacket on top of a silver-buttoned pink dress that went down to her ankles.
She would always call to him in his mind like in the picture taken that day; a cheerful echo of "Cloud!" would forever sway his thoughts and torture his lost soul like it had when she…died.
She had died.
And the worst part was that he had stood there and let her die.
Plip! - a tear marred her eerily happy face on the glass covering.
[A lot longer as I promised…review so you can see a new chapter!]