"The Moribund People"
1: "Touch of Truth"
November 3
The rain was gentle, the rain was harsh, the rain was cold, the rain was warm, and the rain was there, and it was not. It was duality that he now was in, desperate in himself to find a way through the opaque, yet transparent blur that was now infesting his vision. It was all a haze; and he was unable to find his way through the changing walls of his path; the walls, the shapes and faces all appeared distorted and somehow distant; moving in and out of his vision, changing shape, bending, straightening, shortening and finding natural extensions. He was crawling on his hands and knees, but yet, the rain had not swallowed him completely just yet.
"Look at him!"
"Is he homeless?"
"I think I recognize him from somewhere..."
The whispers were surrounding him. But to his ears, they appeared dissonant like the world itself; enveloping him in a cold, ghostly touch, they were beckoning his meanings with theirs.
Endlessly, the crawl went on. Disappearing through the reveries and searching for a place to shelter himself from the rain, to keep the chill out, to kill the shivers and the haunting presence of a house he could sense he was heading to.
Suddenly, the whispers stopped to make sense, suddenly they lost their importance.
There was someone getting out of the house he was crawling to. A familiar figure... he could not yet see his face, but he could see through the opacity of his skin, see the tattoo burning onto his cheek, see the blonde hair that was hanging in spikes, see the SeeD uniform keeping his body sheltered from the rain. He could see those brilliant, blue orbs looking around to find some kind of comfort in the surroundings that he knew so well.
"Sir? Can I help you?"
A name was building inside of his lungs, and with the bloodied coughs, it was rising; scratching his throat endlessly for release, it was prodding his tongue to move and shape the letters; to find meaning.
"ZELL!" he screamed, not being able to completely comprehend the ferocious rage that was absorbed into his voice. Somehow, the shapes and the sounds stopped distorting themselves, and laid the scene down in front of him, to walk, to rush, to punch, to kill, to kill, to kill...
"No!" Zell shouted, instinctively taking a step backwards, a step away from him.
"Yes..." he said, feeling that smile creeping up onto his lips, he chuckled, "It's me."
"Squall! But you could not have made out of that explosion! Three Ragnaroks and you're still alive? It's impossible!"
"Impossibility is my forte, my friend." Squall replied, rising to his feet, and clenching his fists at his sides, "After all, all the things I had done were impossible to their core; Knighting a being I had sworn to destroy, and all else! Sometimes, Zell, I wonder if it was all a dream. Maybe this truly is a dream..." his eyes had grown out of focus, he was spacing out, and with that lost gaze, he made Zell shiver and fear for Squall's own mind, rather than his own, "...I still don't know. I thought Selphie could show me that fine line between reality and dream. But she couldn't."
"What... what did you do to Selphie?" Zell asked, feeling fury and disgust, alongside with concern and fear rise inside of him, "What?"
"She's very much alive, my dear friend... she told me all about your little fling, though... Ahh, and that Irvine had a hard time restraining himself while you two, as puny were you, gave into your desires... But sure enough, I'd love to see her writhing underneath whom takes her as a best friend..."
"I... she lied to you, you idiot!" Zell said, feeling his words sinking in like syringes full of poison, "There was no such thing!"
"And to think," Squall said, keeping his smile, "You truly were looking for such an opportunity, to find someone who could provide you things beside theoretical knowledge... heh. She 'showed you the ropes' now, did she not..?"
The bite of truth was harder than anything else Zell had ever felt; more than his own fury, more than this deviance he had shown towards sacraments of Selphie, more than her touch, more than the touch of hell itself that should have ended months ago.
"It is quite unexpected of course; who would have known that she was so... happy-go-lucky, yes... Going with the flow, trusting... So submissive."
"Shut up..." Zell said, feeling all the other feelings burning in rage.
"I think you will need a gag for me too..." Squall said, with a smooth, slick tone.
As he smiled genuinely, and Zell inhaled the sense of insanity emanating from his eyes, they both stood alone in the soaking street. The moment embraced them, this touch of truth kept them together, and as Zell felt his anger turn into fear, Squall could find a little solace inside this broken reality. He chuckled, and briefly stood on what had happened before that point; and beyond the point of no return where he was now coming to claim his promise.