Of Vampires and Lunatics: Side story to The Masquerade, a FFVII Fanfic by Amazonsoul
No one Understands what it's like to be alone. Not the way I do. No one except maybe
him, or her. I speak of my companions, Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart, but they have each
other. Yet they do not alleviate each other's pain.
But, his transgression is not of his own volition.
He loves the other. Like I love you. It cannot be helped.
Even in death I cannot stop loving you my dearest Lucreacia. It is you who inspires my words
and my demeanor. Were it not for your elegant beauty, what beauty would I know? What beauty
could I speak or what good could I do? Your spirit remains with me always, haunting me,
begging me to stop HIM, to save you from his hands. But did you ever beg in life my dearest?
Did you ever in actuality reach out a hand to me and beg for salvation?
I do not remember anymore. The thought comes to me once in a while, but it cannot be so.
Angels do not fall in love with devils.
A bittersweet truth.
That is why now, more then ever, I shall be infinitely alone. In this dismal place, this steel
cemetery that is Midgar, I become less and less human and more like my unfriendly twin soul.
He spurns, he kills mercilessly, he feels nothing, and lives with a morbid sense of humor.
I remember when I used to make people laugh.
I used to have a talent for humor. But where did the laughter go? It must have died with you my
dear Lucrecia. I gave it freely as I gave the entirety of my being to you. The person who I was
existed only with you. And when you left, you took it with you. Did HE force you to take it? To
leave me with no sense of self, and only a searing guilt and burning lust for vengeance?
I wonder sometimes if Aeris took a part of Cloud. Mostly, I find that she gave more then she
took. What she took was his self-hatred, his confusion, his guilt, his pain, but tragically, the
chance for a beautiful relationship. Yet she did not deny him his love nor his happiness.
I remember when I found him at the church, whistling as he watered the flowers;
beautiful flowers. When he finished, he looked at them and I saw a stream of silent tears flow
carelessly from his eyes. He did not see me there; it is hard to notice specters. I made not one
sound and found my self unable to close my eyes form this scene. I am not one to pry and I am
not one to be interested, not anymore, but those tears held me there. Did he feel what I feel? I
often wonder if his soul is just as broken as mine.
But he is mending.
Those tears, I could tell, as they flowed, they healed some scar or vulgar wound. He
looked human there, with salt droplets running from his eyes.
How I wished for a tear! Just for one crystal of my lost humanity.
The scene was beautiful, a glimpse of unaltered truth. For a moment, I felt that the lunatic
and I had something in common. And days later I would know that we were the same.
It all happened in a common death maze of the Dammed city. Midgar's skies were
littered with stars; specks of light sheering through limitless darkness. The sky was beautiful, but
the earth was dammed. Slush; a concoction of mud, excrement, and fragments of former man-
made contraptions was what passed for earth in Midgar. Sometimes I think that the sky is
laughing at it; laughing, at the earth as she attempts to recover from the onslaught of the sky.
Below that dark heaven, Cloud and I had trouble getting back to our camp outside of Midgar.
We became lost when a corrosion of the upper layers in the city fiercely changed the landscape.
Our map was of no help. Forks in the road became walls, shelters became ruble, and exits
became dead-ends. My lungs wanted to explode from the poisonous atmosphere. The dense air
reached its archaic claw into my chest, creating lesions in my lungs. A small gasping cough
scratched its way out of my damaged throat.
The hero turned to me in worry. "You ok Vincent?"
He always asked that question. One single cough, one small groan and he asked "are you
ok Vincent?" After a while I started to believe he was sincere. Sometimes I thought of saying
"no my soul is being eaten a live," or "no I have no recollection of a restful night." I even once
felt like admitting, "I am too afraid that I'll be alone forever, to be ok."
But that characteristic, insincere, and rather mechanical, nod was much faster then my
wits. While I was agonizing over wether I could confide in Cloud or not, my head had already
lowered in a polite "yes I'm fine." He winced sometimes, made a face and stared for just seconds
to assess my situation.
It was no different that time. He gave me the look and within seconds, moved on to the
surroundings. Cloud was in deep though now, scratching his head, miles away from caring about
wether I was "ok."
"Well Vincent, I've got good news and bad news." He stretched out his arms and cracked
his neck. "Good news is: I know where we are. Bad news is that this landscape is so disfigured
that it will probably take us eight hours to get to the campsite."
I heard him, but I could not focus. I brought my good hand up to my chest. It was cloaked
so it did not reveal the true pain that was disintegrating my lung tissue. I desperately attempted
to calm my heart, but a desperate heart is not calm. Although, my stoic demeanor stayed intact, I
could feel a lone sweat droplet on my face. My eyes grew lazy and unfocused. Cloud spoke in
that same boyish voice.
"But hey, we're very close to the church. I think these weak legs of mine can make it there." He
did not turn around. I was happy that he just kept on walking, payed no mind to my struggle. I
have become so uncomfortable with getting help. I feel like yelling at a helper. Even a server at
some pub. "Hey you! Why the hell are you serving me? Don't you know what I am?" That's
what I feel like telling them. But I don't.
We walked some more.
He was right. The church wasn't too far off. I could smell the flowers. They smelled
like...like happiness. They smelled like you, Lucrecia, like the wind blowing your loose hair;
aeons ago near Mt.Nibel. Yes, the smell of happiness was ever more present as we kept on
walking. My fading consciousness could not refuse its call.
"Oh...no..."Cloud stopped suddenly and looked to his right. The stench of reality
suddenly hit me. There was a boy, not more then seven, convulsing on the ground. The ground;
it was so muddy, so filled with garbage and shards of broken homes. Of all the thoughts that
could have ran to my head, I thought "/He shouldn't play in that mess/." I knew he wasn't
playing.
His eyes glowed a brilliant shade of florescent green; headlights in the cold, sloppy night.
They rolled towards his forehead, threatening to eject themselves right through the cranium. The
small body held no coordination. Each limb was determined to go its own way, jerking and
stretching and bending in unnatural ways to break from its host. Did they know that they were
hurting the boy? That they were HIS limbs? Only his right arm remained loyal, grasping at his
heart as I grasped my own, begging it to stay inside the confines of the breast bone. The view
was so sickening, yet so common, so sadly normal.
Cloud bent over to the boy methodically. Mud was being kicked towards his face, but he
did as he did with every victim of mako poisoning. He grabbed the boys head and brought it to
his knees. The limbs wriggled uncontrollably, the boys head ran from its neck. Cloud held it still
and opened the jaw, holding the boys tongue. I could only watch in my horrid daze. I knew the
boy was dead. All that remained was the massive mako energy left in his blood and just enough
consciousness to feel the pain of his masochistic body. He was suffering.
Cloud looked up at me. What was the look he gave me? I can't say I remember it well or
ever really saw it to remember it. I just remembered that he sighed, let out a swear and let go of
the boy. The boy went on with his beserker death, convulsing madly.
I've often wondered wether I would have stopped what happened next if I had enough
consciousness left in me. Would I really have objected to it? Cloud solemnly walked up to me
and with the greatest ease, took out my revolver. Before I could react or even acknowledge what
was happening, he had already aimed and shot...straight for the boys head. The head stopped
running away form its neck, the limbs where no longer erratic, and the loyal right arm lay calmly
on the boys chest. His left eye wasn't with him anymore and neither was his hind brain. The
remnants lay a yard away from the boy; just another ingredient to the sludge on the ground. I
knew the boy was dead before he shot him and yet...I can't recall but... was I angry with him at
that moment? I don't know...I must have passed out right after the incident because the next
thing I remember was waking up to high cathedral ceilings and the smell of happiness.
My lungs breathed easily, my body was under my full control. It felt as if the weight of
the world had been lifted from me, or rather as if it had never been there. I saw my youth in my
mind's eye and I saw you Lucrecia. I thought that I was back in those fields, enveloped by
flowers and by you, by my love for you. It smelled like happiness here. I didn't want to get up. I
laid there for a while; eyes wide open as I embraced a dream.
His whistling brought me back to reality. He was whistling her song.
Amidst the dance of the melody charged the present. The notes, though not rough,
battered my ears and crashed a gong inside my head. The dream faded away. The bed of grass
turned out to be a splinter plenty pew. It was the first undamaged pew from the bed of flowers.
The lack of clothing on my upper body added to the discomfort. The smell of happiness
faded as I smelled the ointment on my chest. It was a menthol based concoction, which would be
pleasant where it not for my acute senses. I could still smell the Hydra's blood in the ointment,
the unpleasant, but curative ingredient of the remedy. I sat up slowly and carefully, as I am wont
to perform most of my actions that do not require a kill. I rubbed my temples with my good
hand.
I groaned reflexively.
He whistled and kept on whistling her favorite song./Aeris/ He was watering those
flowers again, and again I was a specter. The ointment couldn't, not even with its nearness; it
could not mask the smell of happiness. There it was again... Soothing my pains, softening the
notes' assault on my brain. It was music once more. And suddenly the splinters didn't matter and
the Hydra's blood ceased to exist. He was happy there. I could tell he was happy. I think I was
happy there as well.
His music came to a halt. Cloud, the fearless leader turned around. A compassionate
smile softened his face. "Its alright Vincent," he said. "It really is alright." A deep sigh came
from his soul. Not the kind that exclaims and begs for some glimmer of hope, but the type that
results from so much hope and so much peace of mind that it cannot help but send its message to
the world. I have never heard that sigh again. And those eyes, which were clear and peaceful
then, I have never seen those eyes like that outside the protection of her church.
His next words were not so poetic.
"I had to kill him Vincent. He was already dead really. Just withering away in pain." This, he
said with a most peculiar clarity, almost divine in its wisdom.
"Is it she that soothes your guilt?" I asked. I could not help but ask. I was calm, I was serene and
I think I might have been possessed. The words spilled on the board of conversation
involuntarily, but I didn't care at the time, I was somehow free for those few minutes. Cloud
chuckled a bit.
"She got to you too, huh?" He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. It was light out. The
sun rays poured through the various holes in the cathedral and kissed his face. He either looked
like a madman or like Apollo. After a small sigh, he realized that I was still waiting for his
answer. He dusted off his hands, looked back to his flowers, and then called to me. "C'mere
Vincent, let me show you something." I got up with surprising ease, all pain now, dull and
fading. When I had made my way next to him I felt a warm caress over my entire being, with no
complaints from my twin soul.
"The flowers..."I whispered in awe.
"The flower lady," he whispered back half whimsical, half thoughtful. "This is...was the same
power that I sensed in Aeris... For a while I thought that was something she did only for me."
His voice changed timbre ever so slightly, revealing a tinge of sadness to my senses. "But really
that's how she made everyone feel about it. Everyone felt singularly special and blessed and
lov..." He paused.
"You were and are still loved." The words again seemed to have come through me and
not from me. My body was relaxed, I sensed the uncharacteristic nature of the phrase and that I
was not wearing my persona, but somehow it was ok. Cloud's eyes became wide with
amazement. He knew it wasn't me saying it. I knew too. I didn't mind though. For the first time I
didn't mind someone manipulating my mind. She was here.
"I love you Aeris..." The words flowed into the wind, pain attached to its message. No answer
came back. Not one that went through me at least. I felt no discomfort at the scene. Not at that
moment anyway, once we left the church it would be a different story, but while we remained
there, embarrassment and discomfort did not seem to happen. We were still standing side by side
five minutes after his last words.
I saw the rest of my clothing laid out on other pews. They where doused by sunlight,
glowing as if they were holy instruments. The irony caused a small chuckle in my throat. Cloud
chuckled back in amazement. It would have been so easy for him, so easy for him to say it. "Hey
Vincent I didn't know you could laugh" or "Vincent, isn't that too happy for a brooding
vampire?" But he did not say it. He just chuckled with me. I have yet to figure out wether it was
in discomfort at my show of emotion or that he saw the clothes bursting in glorious flames as I
did. Nevertheless, I walked towards them. Parts of my shirt were dry other parts were slightly
damp.
"I couldn't prevent the blood stains, but I washed out the fresh blood." Cloud's voice was
matter-of-fact and yet cautious in its delivery of facts. I was sick. I had probably puked a pint of
blood all the way here. I am sure he had to carry me on his back, and I convulsed once or twice
on the way, yes that was probable. Then he had laid me on those pews and attempted to lower
my fever with that ointment. Yes, I was sick and he had helped me.
"I've known for a while now," he informed me, again with that same gentle, but not obsequious
tone.
I dressed myself methodically, ignoring his words. "He knew," I thought. I was so angry
at him for knowing...for knowing my illness, for knowing my suffering. He probably pitied me,
he probably worried. It was enough to make any aloof man go crazy, no? I put my clothes on,
ignoring the dampness and pretending to ignore the sentiment. For weeks I ignored him as well,
seething in anger, in discomfort.
I grin now. It was preposterous really. I was so angry that he cared because now the door
was wide open for me to care back. What a travesty! And here I was hoping to comfortably play
my part as a pseudo-vampire. It took a while, but the invitation from the lunatic was taken. That
crazy, crazy fool, so crazy and foolish to offer friendship to a creature so enveloped in darkness
and nightmares. Now my humor is returning to me Lucrecia, at least in front of him. I will never
be the same man who shared a flower-lavished hill on the outskirts of Mt. Nibel with you, but I
am now more then the creature who slept for decades hoping to escape his sins. I slowly become
more human each day. He teaches me how. He doesn't know but... Or maybe he does? After all,
he does have some odd connections...Anyway I am thankful for him. I will not ever again be
accompanied in the path of love, but at least I don't have to be "infinitely alone" in friendship.
We make an interesting team...a vampire and a lunatic.
No one Understands what it's like to be alone. Not the way I do. No one except maybe
him, or her. I speak of my companions, Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart, but they have each
other. Yet they do not alleviate each other's pain.
But, his transgression is not of his own volition.
He loves the other. Like I love you. It cannot be helped.
Even in death I cannot stop loving you my dearest Lucreacia. It is you who inspires my words
and my demeanor. Were it not for your elegant beauty, what beauty would I know? What beauty
could I speak or what good could I do? Your spirit remains with me always, haunting me,
begging me to stop HIM, to save you from his hands. But did you ever beg in life my dearest?
Did you ever in actuality reach out a hand to me and beg for salvation?
I do not remember anymore. The thought comes to me once in a while, but it cannot be so.
Angels do not fall in love with devils.
A bittersweet truth.
That is why now, more then ever, I shall be infinitely alone. In this dismal place, this steel
cemetery that is Midgar, I become less and less human and more like my unfriendly twin soul.
He spurns, he kills mercilessly, he feels nothing, and lives with a morbid sense of humor.
I remember when I used to make people laugh.
I used to have a talent for humor. But where did the laughter go? It must have died with you my
dear Lucrecia. I gave it freely as I gave the entirety of my being to you. The person who I was
existed only with you. And when you left, you took it with you. Did HE force you to take it? To
leave me with no sense of self, and only a searing guilt and burning lust for vengeance?
I wonder sometimes if Aeris took a part of Cloud. Mostly, I find that she gave more then she
took. What she took was his self-hatred, his confusion, his guilt, his pain, but tragically, the
chance for a beautiful relationship. Yet she did not deny him his love nor his happiness.
I remember when I found him at the church, whistling as he watered the flowers;
beautiful flowers. When he finished, he looked at them and I saw a stream of silent tears flow
carelessly from his eyes. He did not see me there; it is hard to notice specters. I made not one
sound and found my self unable to close my eyes form this scene. I am not one to pry and I am
not one to be interested, not anymore, but those tears held me there. Did he feel what I feel? I
often wonder if his soul is just as broken as mine.
But he is mending.
Those tears, I could tell, as they flowed, they healed some scar or vulgar wound. He
looked human there, with salt droplets running from his eyes.
How I wished for a tear! Just for one crystal of my lost humanity.
The scene was beautiful, a glimpse of unaltered truth. For a moment, I felt that the lunatic
and I had something in common. And days later I would know that we were the same.
It all happened in a common death maze of the Dammed city. Midgar's skies were
littered with stars; specks of light sheering through limitless darkness. The sky was beautiful, but
the earth was dammed. Slush; a concoction of mud, excrement, and fragments of former man-
made contraptions was what passed for earth in Midgar. Sometimes I think that the sky is
laughing at it; laughing, at the earth as she attempts to recover from the onslaught of the sky.
Below that dark heaven, Cloud and I had trouble getting back to our camp outside of Midgar.
We became lost when a corrosion of the upper layers in the city fiercely changed the landscape.
Our map was of no help. Forks in the road became walls, shelters became ruble, and exits
became dead-ends. My lungs wanted to explode from the poisonous atmosphere. The dense air
reached its archaic claw into my chest, creating lesions in my lungs. A small gasping cough
scratched its way out of my damaged throat.
The hero turned to me in worry. "You ok Vincent?"
He always asked that question. One single cough, one small groan and he asked "are you
ok Vincent?" After a while I started to believe he was sincere. Sometimes I thought of saying
"no my soul is being eaten a live," or "no I have no recollection of a restful night." I even once
felt like admitting, "I am too afraid that I'll be alone forever, to be ok."
But that characteristic, insincere, and rather mechanical, nod was much faster then my
wits. While I was agonizing over wether I could confide in Cloud or not, my head had already
lowered in a polite "yes I'm fine." He winced sometimes, made a face and stared for just seconds
to assess my situation.
It was no different that time. He gave me the look and within seconds, moved on to the
surroundings. Cloud was in deep though now, scratching his head, miles away from caring about
wether I was "ok."
"Well Vincent, I've got good news and bad news." He stretched out his arms and cracked
his neck. "Good news is: I know where we are. Bad news is that this landscape is so disfigured
that it will probably take us eight hours to get to the campsite."
I heard him, but I could not focus. I brought my good hand up to my chest. It was cloaked
so it did not reveal the true pain that was disintegrating my lung tissue. I desperately attempted
to calm my heart, but a desperate heart is not calm. Although, my stoic demeanor stayed intact, I
could feel a lone sweat droplet on my face. My eyes grew lazy and unfocused. Cloud spoke in
that same boyish voice.
"But hey, we're very close to the church. I think these weak legs of mine can make it there." He
did not turn around. I was happy that he just kept on walking, payed no mind to my struggle. I
have become so uncomfortable with getting help. I feel like yelling at a helper. Even a server at
some pub. "Hey you! Why the hell are you serving me? Don't you know what I am?" That's
what I feel like telling them. But I don't.
We walked some more.
He was right. The church wasn't too far off. I could smell the flowers. They smelled
like...like happiness. They smelled like you, Lucrecia, like the wind blowing your loose hair;
aeons ago near Mt.Nibel. Yes, the smell of happiness was ever more present as we kept on
walking. My fading consciousness could not refuse its call.
"Oh...no..."Cloud stopped suddenly and looked to his right. The stench of reality
suddenly hit me. There was a boy, not more then seven, convulsing on the ground. The ground;
it was so muddy, so filled with garbage and shards of broken homes. Of all the thoughts that
could have ran to my head, I thought "/He shouldn't play in that mess/." I knew he wasn't
playing.
His eyes glowed a brilliant shade of florescent green; headlights in the cold, sloppy night.
They rolled towards his forehead, threatening to eject themselves right through the cranium. The
small body held no coordination. Each limb was determined to go its own way, jerking and
stretching and bending in unnatural ways to break from its host. Did they know that they were
hurting the boy? That they were HIS limbs? Only his right arm remained loyal, grasping at his
heart as I grasped my own, begging it to stay inside the confines of the breast bone. The view
was so sickening, yet so common, so sadly normal.
Cloud bent over to the boy methodically. Mud was being kicked towards his face, but he
did as he did with every victim of mako poisoning. He grabbed the boys head and brought it to
his knees. The limbs wriggled uncontrollably, the boys head ran from its neck. Cloud held it still
and opened the jaw, holding the boys tongue. I could only watch in my horrid daze. I knew the
boy was dead. All that remained was the massive mako energy left in his blood and just enough
consciousness to feel the pain of his masochistic body. He was suffering.
Cloud looked up at me. What was the look he gave me? I can't say I remember it well or
ever really saw it to remember it. I just remembered that he sighed, let out a swear and let go of
the boy. The boy went on with his beserker death, convulsing madly.
I've often wondered wether I would have stopped what happened next if I had enough
consciousness left in me. Would I really have objected to it? Cloud solemnly walked up to me
and with the greatest ease, took out my revolver. Before I could react or even acknowledge what
was happening, he had already aimed and shot...straight for the boys head. The head stopped
running away form its neck, the limbs where no longer erratic, and the loyal right arm lay calmly
on the boys chest. His left eye wasn't with him anymore and neither was his hind brain. The
remnants lay a yard away from the boy; just another ingredient to the sludge on the ground. I
knew the boy was dead before he shot him and yet...I can't recall but... was I angry with him at
that moment? I don't know...I must have passed out right after the incident because the next
thing I remember was waking up to high cathedral ceilings and the smell of happiness.
My lungs breathed easily, my body was under my full control. It felt as if the weight of
the world had been lifted from me, or rather as if it had never been there. I saw my youth in my
mind's eye and I saw you Lucrecia. I thought that I was back in those fields, enveloped by
flowers and by you, by my love for you. It smelled like happiness here. I didn't want to get up. I
laid there for a while; eyes wide open as I embraced a dream.
His whistling brought me back to reality. He was whistling her song.
Amidst the dance of the melody charged the present. The notes, though not rough,
battered my ears and crashed a gong inside my head. The dream faded away. The bed of grass
turned out to be a splinter plenty pew. It was the first undamaged pew from the bed of flowers.
The lack of clothing on my upper body added to the discomfort. The smell of happiness
faded as I smelled the ointment on my chest. It was a menthol based concoction, which would be
pleasant where it not for my acute senses. I could still smell the Hydra's blood in the ointment,
the unpleasant, but curative ingredient of the remedy. I sat up slowly and carefully, as I am wont
to perform most of my actions that do not require a kill. I rubbed my temples with my good
hand.
I groaned reflexively.
He whistled and kept on whistling her favorite song./Aeris/ He was watering those
flowers again, and again I was a specter. The ointment couldn't, not even with its nearness; it
could not mask the smell of happiness. There it was again... Soothing my pains, softening the
notes' assault on my brain. It was music once more. And suddenly the splinters didn't matter and
the Hydra's blood ceased to exist. He was happy there. I could tell he was happy. I think I was
happy there as well.
His music came to a halt. Cloud, the fearless leader turned around. A compassionate
smile softened his face. "Its alright Vincent," he said. "It really is alright." A deep sigh came
from his soul. Not the kind that exclaims and begs for some glimmer of hope, but the type that
results from so much hope and so much peace of mind that it cannot help but send its message to
the world. I have never heard that sigh again. And those eyes, which were clear and peaceful
then, I have never seen those eyes like that outside the protection of her church.
His next words were not so poetic.
"I had to kill him Vincent. He was already dead really. Just withering away in pain." This, he
said with a most peculiar clarity, almost divine in its wisdom.
"Is it she that soothes your guilt?" I asked. I could not help but ask. I was calm, I was serene and
I think I might have been possessed. The words spilled on the board of conversation
involuntarily, but I didn't care at the time, I was somehow free for those few minutes. Cloud
chuckled a bit.
"She got to you too, huh?" He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. It was light out. The
sun rays poured through the various holes in the cathedral and kissed his face. He either looked
like a madman or like Apollo. After a small sigh, he realized that I was still waiting for his
answer. He dusted off his hands, looked back to his flowers, and then called to me. "C'mere
Vincent, let me show you something." I got up with surprising ease, all pain now, dull and
fading. When I had made my way next to him I felt a warm caress over my entire being, with no
complaints from my twin soul.
"The flowers..."I whispered in awe.
"The flower lady," he whispered back half whimsical, half thoughtful. "This is...was the same
power that I sensed in Aeris... For a while I thought that was something she did only for me."
His voice changed timbre ever so slightly, revealing a tinge of sadness to my senses. "But really
that's how she made everyone feel about it. Everyone felt singularly special and blessed and
lov..." He paused.
"You were and are still loved." The words again seemed to have come through me and
not from me. My body was relaxed, I sensed the uncharacteristic nature of the phrase and that I
was not wearing my persona, but somehow it was ok. Cloud's eyes became wide with
amazement. He knew it wasn't me saying it. I knew too. I didn't mind though. For the first time I
didn't mind someone manipulating my mind. She was here.
"I love you Aeris..." The words flowed into the wind, pain attached to its message. No answer
came back. Not one that went through me at least. I felt no discomfort at the scene. Not at that
moment anyway, once we left the church it would be a different story, but while we remained
there, embarrassment and discomfort did not seem to happen. We were still standing side by side
five minutes after his last words.
I saw the rest of my clothing laid out on other pews. They where doused by sunlight,
glowing as if they were holy instruments. The irony caused a small chuckle in my throat. Cloud
chuckled back in amazement. It would have been so easy for him, so easy for him to say it. "Hey
Vincent I didn't know you could laugh" or "Vincent, isn't that too happy for a brooding
vampire?" But he did not say it. He just chuckled with me. I have yet to figure out wether it was
in discomfort at my show of emotion or that he saw the clothes bursting in glorious flames as I
did. Nevertheless, I walked towards them. Parts of my shirt were dry other parts were slightly
damp.
"I couldn't prevent the blood stains, but I washed out the fresh blood." Cloud's voice was
matter-of-fact and yet cautious in its delivery of facts. I was sick. I had probably puked a pint of
blood all the way here. I am sure he had to carry me on his back, and I convulsed once or twice
on the way, yes that was probable. Then he had laid me on those pews and attempted to lower
my fever with that ointment. Yes, I was sick and he had helped me.
"I've known for a while now," he informed me, again with that same gentle, but not obsequious
tone.
I dressed myself methodically, ignoring his words. "He knew," I thought. I was so angry
at him for knowing...for knowing my illness, for knowing my suffering. He probably pitied me,
he probably worried. It was enough to make any aloof man go crazy, no? I put my clothes on,
ignoring the dampness and pretending to ignore the sentiment. For weeks I ignored him as well,
seething in anger, in discomfort.
I grin now. It was preposterous really. I was so angry that he cared because now the door
was wide open for me to care back. What a travesty! And here I was hoping to comfortably play
my part as a pseudo-vampire. It took a while, but the invitation from the lunatic was taken. That
crazy, crazy fool, so crazy and foolish to offer friendship to a creature so enveloped in darkness
and nightmares. Now my humor is returning to me Lucrecia, at least in front of him. I will never
be the same man who shared a flower-lavished hill on the outskirts of Mt. Nibel with you, but I
am now more then the creature who slept for decades hoping to escape his sins. I slowly become
more human each day. He teaches me how. He doesn't know but... Or maybe he does? After all,
he does have some odd connections...Anyway I am thankful for him. I will not ever again be
accompanied in the path of love, but at least I don't have to be "infinitely alone" in friendship.
We make an interesting team...a vampire and a lunatic.