Unspoken
By mihoyonagi
This chapter is dedicated to my darling little Puckero for her wonderful gift art for this story, and to Peter, who secretly knows blacksmithing is his real calling. And, of course, to my zombie-editor, who owns my soul.
Also, I'd like to take a moment and thank all of you wonderful people who read this story, and a giant thanks, as well, to those of you who are kind enough to leave reviews. You're love is what keeps me writing! And worry not, fair readers, for this is far from the end!
Chapter 23: Storm
A cascade of water plummeted from the heavens, beating upon the earth as though it would like nothing more than to ravage its beauty and destroy every green thing that grew from the now muddy surface. The sky lit up, and only a matter of moments passed by before the soil shook with the heaven's thunderous outcry.
Sephiroth liked the rain. He did not, however, like to get caught in it.
His boots stuck in the mud, making them heavy and hard to walk in. They made the most terrible of squelching sounds when he lifted his foot, and a completely different, though just as awful, sound when he set them back down again.
Aerith, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. She had taken the liberty of removing her boots, carefully placing her socks within her pack, and was merrily squishing the mud between her toes. The rain had driven all of the plane monsters into hiding, so Aerith had no reason to fear they might be attacked.
Sephiroth, however, was less amused by the downfall that fell from the sky. His shirt hugged him in odd places, his pants stuck to parts pants shouldn't normally stick to, his feet were clammy, his hair was heavy, and he couldn't see through all of the rain.
It was only four in the afternoon.
He bit his tongue, nevertheless, for Aerith seemed to be rightly enjoying herself. A small smile was spread gently across the features of her face, and her eyelashes were covered in water droplets, making them look longer and darker than they actually were. Other than the sound the downpour made, and the occasional thunderclap, the only other thing that broke the silence of the plane was Aerith's soft humming.
It made the storm a bit more bearable, in Sephiroth's mind.
She had, after all, made the point that there was no purpose in making camp, as all of their supplies were already soaked though, and putting up a wet tent would defeat the purpose of putting up a tent at all. Tents, certainly, were meant to keep one warm and dry. That and it was still early in the afternoon; had they stopped, there would have been nothing for either of them to do but wait out the storm.
Sephiroth had agreed with her last point; either way, they had to put up a wet tent, and it would be better to pitch it farther along than right at the beginning.
The storm, just as well, showed no sign of relenting, meaning that would be unable to build a fire either way.
Truthfully, Sephiroth hated the cold. He would rather melt to death under a heat lamp, or even upon the surface of the sun, than spend more time than needed out in the cold.
The rain was just that; cold.
His hate, however, was not without reason; cold reminded him of the time he spent waiting in the crater, waiting for Cloud to come. Waiting for that wretch, Jenova, to tell him what to do. Waiting and waiting until he lost feeling in his limbs, until his mind felt as numb as the ice made his body, until he felt he could wait no longer…
But, the past, as Aerith would say, should not dictate the future. He knew her to be completely aware of what he had done to her, yet she said it regardless, and it somehow eased him.
Sephiroth made an attempt to enjoy the rain, despite the fact that it was cold and caused his boots make unpleasant noises.
A dark, murky spot began to form on the horizon, and Sephiroth pondered what it could be. He had never taken part in much schooling when it came to geography as far as cities were concerned. Sure, he knew his way around well enough, but that didn't mean he cared. Because of the rain, his senses were clouded (something he was not, in any particular way, fond of) and the only thing he hoped for was that they were still heading south-west
Soon, the spot grew in size and color until Aerith, too, could see it. She pointed ahead of them, letting out a joy-filled laugh. "Do you think that might be some sort of shelter?"
Sephiroth shrugged, implying that he hadn't the foggiest, but sure as hell hoped so.
Aerith added a light bounce to her step. Sephiroth, however reluctant to follow such a lead in his wet boots, found himself, at the very least, walking faster.
A booming thunderclap erupted overhead, shaking the ground. Aerith let out a short squeal of surprise, and then laughed. "I love thunderstorms."
Sephiroth, too, enjoyed the thunder, but based on how loud that last thunderclap was, he began to feel uneasy. They needed to find cover, and find it fast. He quickened his strides. When he caught up with Aerith, he nodded his head in a sideways motion, hoping she caught his drift; whatever the structure was, they were going to head for it, and they were going to get there as quickly as possible.
After several minutes of silence, yet another thunderclap shook the ground, this one so loud it caused Aerith to drop to her knees and cover her ears with the palms of her hands. Sephiroth turned around. This storm was not due to stop, and the lightning was striking closer. They needed cover, and they needed it fast.
Reaching out his hand, Sephiroth scooped up Aerith's wet palm in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him and smiled faintly, almost as if she were embarrassed. Sephiroth couldn't tell if her cheeks were pink from the rain, or something else.
Shoving such ideas as far from his brain as possible, he helped Aerith stand.
Then, they began to run.
Despite looking small and frail, Aerith kept up with Sephiroth as they raced through the rain. Their legs pumped beneath them, and their feet tore at the mud. It was as though they were attempting to outrun the rain itself.
Lightning and thunder chased them.
Finally, the structure in the distance gave way to an outline; it was a barn. Sephiroth immediately recognized it: it was the Chocobo Ranch! They really had been traveling in the right direction after all.
"We're almost there!" Aerith panted, gripping his hand tightly in hers.
Closer and closer they ran, the lightning strikes growing closer and closer. The barn doors opened suddenly, and a young boy with a lantern motioned them inside. "Hurry up, or you'll get fried!" he called over the storm.
The large gated door swung closed behind them, and Aerith and Sephiroth skidded to a stop, both soaked to the bone. "We made it!" Aerith punched the air over her head. "I can't believe it!"
The boy set the lantern down, ridding himself of the clear plastic poncho that had kept the rain from soaking his clothes. "Are you two nuts!" he chastised. "Running around in the rain!" Suddenly, he pointed to Aerith. "And your girl here doesn't have shoes on, for chocobo's sake!"
Placing his hands on his knees, Sephiroth tried to slow his breath and regulate his heartbeat. Aerith, on the other hand, plopped down on the cement floor of the barn as though it were nothing more than feathers and panted heavily. "Oh, I'm so tired."
"Are you two even listening?" Placing a hand on his hips, the boy made a face.
Slowly, Aerith nodded. "We didn't mean to get caught in the storm; it just all of a sudden got cloudy, and then started pouring on us."
The boy shook his head and sighed, moving to the back of the barn. He returned with two bottles of water, as well as a few potions. "Still," he shrugged. "You wouldn't catch me out there; not on my life."
Suddenly, the barn door swung open again. Another thunderclap echoed throughout the planes, causing the earth to tremble beneath heaven's might fury. The chocobos went wild in their stalls, kicking and warking and making a big fuss.
"Oh, hush up!" the figure called out, slamming the barn's heavy doors shut.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Throwing his hands over his head, the boy made his way to the door. "I told you to stay inside the house!"
The figure in the door pulled off the hood of the poncho, revealing a rosy face and big brown eyes. "And I thought I told you not to boss me around!" the voice obviously belonged to a girl.
Aerith, having regained her breath, sat up, watching the two. Sephiroth, too, turned his attention to the bickering pair near the barn doors. Taking the initiative, Aerith cleared her throat.
Both figures looked at her, almost sheepishly. "Sorry," the boy smiled, placing a hand behind his head.
He stood tall for a boy his age, and slightly muscular. His hair was brown, matching his eyes, and tossed about in a mousey mop atop his head. The girl next to him, somewhat shorter, had eyes and hair to match. "I'm Puck," the girl replied, holding her hand out in front of her to shake Aerith's. "This is my brother, Pete." The boy, in turn, stuck out his hand and shook Aerith's.
"I'm Aerith, and my friend here is Seph-"
A sudden gust of wind, as if perfectly on cue, rammed the double doors of the barn and caused them to rattle. The two youngsters looked about the barn, hoping the disturbance wouldn't rile the chocobos again. In the heat of the moment, Sephiroth was lucky enough to catch Aerith's gaze. Slowly, he shook his head, his eyes wide with worry.
Back in Mideel, none of the villagers had asked his name. His appearance was unique enough, but the fact that he was always near Aerith's side had set them at ease around the pair. They had liked Aerith, and therefore they liked the strange man she traveled with. The only people who knew of his name were the doctor back at the clinic, Rej, and perhaps the receptionist who had asked for their signatures when they had checked out.
But surely children knew the story of what happened two years ago; the great Shinra general had snapped, and called Meteor details, he was sure, were skewed, but the basic idea was easily enough interpreted with the collapse of Shinra. He was sure to be labeled a madman, were anyone to discover he was still living. Sephiroth was lucky to avoid attention in Mideel; he was afraid he wouldn't be quite so lucky elsewhere.
Based off the look he had given her, however, Aerith understood what his eyes so desperately attempted to explain to her.
Puck took off her poncho and set it near where her brother had placed his. "What were you saying? I didn't catch that."
Aerith turned her attention to the two youths in front of her and let a warm smile cascade over her lips again. "Sorry. My name is Aerith, and my partner here is Seph."
Sephiroth almost grunted. Seph? It sounded more like a pet name for an adoring girlfriend than an actual name. She had, however, been quick on her toes to cover what she had said, and for that Sephiroth was grateful.
Pete shifted his weight from foot to foot. "My sister saw you running across the fields, and we figured you were trying to get out of the rain."
Aerith nodded. "I'm glad you noticed us. It would have been terribly rude of us merely to barge in."
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Sephiroth sighed lightly under his breath. Minutes before, she had been running with him, and she would have kept running with him even if he had busted the barn doors down in order to get out of the rain, and yet here she was speaking of being rude for intruding upon chocobo stables. They were in a barn, or crying out loud! The entire place stunk of metal, hay, and the dratted giant chickens.
Puck scratched her head. "Well, we don't have any rooms to rent to you."
Aerith tilted her head. "Oh? I passed through here a few years ago, and the house doubled as a small inn for travelers. What happened?"
Pete shrugged. "This place has been under new management for nearly three months now. The old chocobo-guru who used to live here with his grandkids ended up not being able to pay for the property any longer, so we bought it off of him. It's just Puck, our father, and I, and we don't have any room in the house for extra people any longer."
Aerith looked to Sephiroth, an almost hurt look upon her face. She did not wear worry well. "What should we do, then?"
Puck's eyes lit up. "You're more than welcome to stay with the chocobos here in the barn, if you want."
Pete glared at his sister. "Are you nuts? Father's out of town, and he told us-"
Rolling her eyes, Puck placed a hand on her hip. "Father said not to let anyone into the house. They aren't in the house, are they? And besides, we can't let them back into that storm."
Aerith, again, looked to Sephiroth for an answer. Brushing mud off of his calves, he stood his full height and sized the two youngsters up. Pete looked to be of age; at least seventeen, but his sister looked younger, perhaps thirteen. Both, unaware of how tall he was at first, took a tentative step backwards in order to look upon him properly.
Pete looked directly into his eyes, no trace of fear in them, though uncertainty was a little clear. His sister puffed out her chest and tilted her head, not to know what to make of the giant in front of her. Sephiroth, after all, stood over six feet, and Puck was hardly taller than his waist.
Slowly, he nodded.
Aerith smiled. "Thank you so much for letting us wait out the storm here."
Shrugging, Pete tore his gaze from Sephiroth and turned to Aerith. "Well, it would be suicide to stay out in that storm any longer, so it's no big deal."
Sephiroth, at first worried that Aerith would have no proper place to rest, was relived when Puck disappeared into a large door at the back of the barn and returned with two folded cots and a few blankets. With a slight smile on her face, she warned them that they were old, and might smell funny, but Aerith laughed and told the girl that it was not a problem. The travelers were allowed one of the empty stalls at the end of the barn to set up their cots; the barn had just been cleaned, luckily enough, so the smell of chocobo was weak, and the floor was at least free of hay and dirt. Aerith didn't seem to mind, the general noted. But then again, if she did, she most likely wouldn't have said anything anyway.
When their makeshift beds were set up, Puck took to taking the two newcomers on a tour of the barn. The girls took to one another faster than a duck takes to water, despite the age gap between them. Sephiroth supposed Aerith was thankful for some female company at long last, even if the female in question was miniature.
Pete, however, had left the girls to giggle about themselves and set to his own tasks, keeping himself busy while hardly taking his eyes off Sephiroth for a moment.
Sitting down on the work bench near one of the middle stalls, Sephiroth tilted his head down and crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. One of the few things that had ever succeeded in wearing him down had always been the weather. The snow made his body ache; the heat made him uncomfortable, the rain made him sleepy; no matter what, the forces of nature had it in for him.
The rain continued to pelt the tin roof of the barn, creating an almost angelic melody sent specifically to calm those upon earth. The thunder and lighting was beginning to pass, and Sephiroth was grateful; perhaps he could get a nap in. When the rain slowly turned into a mere drizzle, nearly three hours had passed. Sephiroth had not moved from the workbench, but he hadn't been able to catch the nap he was hoping for either.
In an almost whisper, Sephiroth heard Pete speak to Aerith. "Why doesn't your partner say anything?"
Sephiroth fought with the urge to open his eyes and glare at the young man before him. What business of his was it?
He, however, could almost hear Aerith smile sadly. "He did something he shouldn't have, and guilt caught up with him."
Sephiroth's blood ran cold. Was that truly the reason why he couldn't talk? Was guilt not allowing him to speak?
Somehow, he had never believed the doctor back at the clinic who had told him it was post traumatic stress disorder. He had created a viable solution in his own mind, and had rejected the reality of others; Sephiroth thought that the planet was punishing him.
Humans need constant interaction; communication. They need to know that they exist, and they use others to prove it. When someone calls out your name, it proves you exist; that they need you, or that they want you.
Without a voice, Sephiroth felt he had no existence. Yes, he could still communicate via his notebook, but there was only so much his paper and pens would allow him to say. He couldn't call out Aerith's name to prove her existence, despite the fact that he could reach out and touch her just to make sure she was real.
Being real and existing are two completely different ideas, though they coincide with one another as would a lock and key. Trees are real. They exist upon the plain of reality, but beyond merely existing, living, there is nothing. Humans interact with other humans beyond the basic level of living. Friends, relatives, lovers; they are all connected in some way, and they are all conscious of the presence of others by means of their voices; of what they say.
Some claim that actions speak louder than words, but without a voice, what good are your actions?
Sephiroth suddenly felt very empty, and very alone.
Standing, he sighed and walked to their makeshift bedroom in the back of the barn. Carefully placing Masamune against the wall, Sephiroth removed his boots and pulled the musty blanket over his head.
Never before in his life had he felt so completely alone. There was so much inside of him, new and old feelings alike, crawling, screaming, and struggling to get out.
But they remained, and would linger until he was ready, all the while unspoken.