Author's Note: This story is only going to get stranger...just a warning. I am fascinated with Vincent's demons...so I elaborated on one. If you don't like this interpretation...well, sorry. Enjoy my forays into strangeness...

Chapter 15 – Conversing with Chaos

He had been staring at it for a few hours now, waiting for some sign of Tiveph. The tiny chain in his hand quivered slightly when he focused on it, proving once again the inexplicable link with the mind and the body. The small stone dangling from it gave him a focus, its dark surface seemingly impenetrable. Then he shifted himself so that the stone was between him and the light, allowing it to reveal its secrets; for it was now clearer than glass. He lifted the corner of his mouth, remembering how he came to own such a trinket.

Your love of sentimentalism makes me ill.

So what would you know of such things? You are a demon.

As are you, I would like to remind you.

Vincent let out a hiss of breath. He had been focusing on the necklace in order to avoid such conversations, but he knew that Chaos had been waiting for him to lose his resolve.

How fast I lose control...

He was sitting in a bare room that had an antiseptic smell and stark lighting. There was no door, no chains, and no restraints. Anything that held Vincent there was contained within his own mind, within his own honor.

Playing noble? I can tell you about nobility...

His eyes widened. A tickle started in the back of his brain, filling his nerves with an electric numbing. It almost felt like transforming...but his body was not phasing, and he wasn't being knocked out of his own consciousness. It was almost as if he where being put on the sidelines, but for what purpose...he did not know. He closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, he was no longer in the room.

He was in a vast room, filled with well-dressed people.

He looked down at himself, and he was wearing something beautifully tailored, but of an older style, like something his father would have worn. As he looked around, the people were also arrayed in like manner; ladies with small, fitted hats, and simple lined dresses, and men with broad shouldered suits, and smart hats of their own. He glanced over to the side, and saw a mirror...

Another man stared back at him.

This man had a strong chin, mischievous blue eyes and short cropped blond hair. His face looked variable enough to be stern and gentle at the same time. It was the face of a lady killer, and whoever had it, knew it.

What is this? Chaos! What have you done?

Just watch, you'll see.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder, and spun around, meeting a sight that almost made him gasp.

Lucrecia?

"Hello, Jonas," the woman said, her voice like honey, but not the voice Vincent remembered. He almost frowned with disappointment.

"Ophelia..." his voice spoke, but unbidden from his will. He then realized he was only an observer, nothing more. The woman smiled.

"So you do remember," she her green eyes sparkling, "I thought a busy man like you would be at a loss for names." He felt his face smile.

"I never forget a face," he said coyly, "Especially one as lovely as yours." She laughed; a lilting melodic laugh.

If she's not Lucrecia...then who is she?

A curse.

Her face faded from his vision, as well as the rest of the people, and the room. He blinked.

Now he was in a green meadow, next to a stream. Around him hung the branches of a willow tree, drooping their leaves into the cool water. His eyes then met a familiar form; a woman in a light summer dress, eyes bespectacled reading from some sort of book.

She certainly looks like her. Even wears reading glasses.

She looked up, smiling a warm familiar smile. He felt his stomach wrench.

"Still reading that old thing?" he asked, setting his tall frame down upon the grass, leaning in close to her. She laughed again, that hauntingly melodic laugh. She slowly removed the glasses, piercing him with her soft gaze.

"Of course, Professor," she said innocently, closing the book gently. He grinned.

"You do know that isn't my true profession?" he asked rhetorically, finger carelessly entwined in a lock of auburn hair. She leaned in.

"I don't care..." she whispered, bringing her face dangerously close. He closed his eyes, expectantly...

Then he opened them, and saw crimson. Everywhere.

He was indoors, in a dark room, filled with strange tubes and metallic implements. Papers were scattered on tabletops and inkwells were carelessly strewn amongst them. He looked down, finally seeing the source of the crimson.

A man lay there, prone and nearly floating in a pool of his own blood. He looked like he had been stabbed, and several times at that, judging by the state of his flesh. It almost looked like an animal had ripped through him, almost like...

A monster.

Then he saw his hand, covered in blood. His right hand was another story entirely. It was a dark metallic claw, sharpened and dripping red. Then he turned to the doorway, where a small form watched his movements with abject horror.

It was a small girl, with auburn hair and curiously cinnamon eyes.

"Mommy!" the girl shouted, running away from the terror standing above a corpse. His feet followed her, running towards her swiftly. Just when he thought he would catch her, he collided with a soft mass of lace and linen. The child grabbed the form, whose angry green eyes were fixed on his face.

"Leave!" she said, her voice quivering, "I never want to see you again Jonas...you..." but her voice failed her. The girl clung to her skirt, sobbing. He turned to leave, his feet going faster...ever faster.

"Monster," he heard her whisper, closing his eyes to stop the pain of his face...

When Vincent opened his eyes, he saw the stark room again, and the familiar feel of his own heart, beating rapidly in his chest.

We are not so different, you and I.

What was that?

A lesson. A warning. It is too late for me...

"So Chaos still has the ability to project," a deceptively smooth voice said, breaking Vincent's thoughts. He looked up into cold, glowing green eyes; the eyes of a machine.

"Tiveph," he said tonelessly, "What have you done?" Tiveph kept staring, his mock facial muscles mechanically reproducing a smirk.

"Have you ever been in love, Vincent?" Tiveph inquired cruelly, watching for the strain in the man's face. Vincent scowled, boring his red eyes into the mockery of human expression.

"It's a curious thing with humans," Tiveph continued, "There are the natural chemical reactions...boring biological responses. Then there is the psychological aspect...a stunning and beautiful thing if you ask me."

How dare...that MACHINE, that...

Monster? I wouldn't point fingers...

"Did you know that green eyes can trigger a series of events within the psyche?" Tiveph asked, having set his now slimmer machinations on a chair nearby. Vincent continued the stone silence.

"Very well," he continued, seemingly enjoying the musical tones of a programmed voice, "There are few forms that a human body can take that rouse such stirrings within a soul."

"I see you went more aesthetically with this new form," Vincent said, his voice carrying a rough edge. Tiveph ignored his statement.

"Certain lines of human families carry certain psychological traits in addition to the normal physical ones," he carried on, each new sentence crescendoing and decrescendoing along specific melodious paths, "Poets, scholars, and scientists...they tend to follow what their father set before them. Legacies of genius, or stupidity, or impassioned minds..."

Or foolishness.

"...all one in the same. Even attraction can be tailored according to certain tendencies... This was never something with the Cetra. I had to look to the stars to see such a sight..." he stopped abruptly, his iron mouth clamping with a small click.

"Get to the point," Vincent said rebelliously, "I tire of your endless chatter." Tiveph regained the artificial smirk.

"I think it's time you met your legacy, Vincent Valentine," he crooned with the dulcet tones of a violin, "Although you've been quite troublesome. Not even staying true to the ideal...of Jenova."

Welcome, Vincent, to Hell.

Author's Note: I'll get around to the point of this story soon...hope this isn't dragging along too much!