Chapter 18
This chapter is dedicated to all my fantastic reviewers, for their loyal support and for the kind wishes given for me to have a great time while on holiday. Grin. I did!
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Chapter 18
The general continued to work in silence, Cloud kneeling obediently at his feet. Occasionally Sephiroth would turn his head slightly to look down at the bowed form, but other than that, he showed no acknowledgement of the boy's presence.
Cloud felt that his knee caps were going to seize up. He knew he would have difficultly in standing when his captive decided that it was time to return to their quarters.
Their quarters...
Cloud wondered why he had thought of the generals rooms in that way. Sephiroths quarters they might well be, and apart from the certain area that the man called his 'playroom', it was a pleasant set of rooms to be sure. But to Cloud, pleasant or no, it was still to be considered a prison, somewhere to be escaped from. And the sooner the better, he thought, if he were beginning to think that he belonged there in those rooms with the silver haired man.
The door opened, breaking the monotony of the passing few hours, and Cloud looked up and watched as a nervous, fidgety young man came in and addressed the seated general, inquiring if he needed anything.
"Yes," Sephiroth answered, his fingers and eyes never leaving the task before him. "Fetch me a fresh pitcher of water, and a clean glass."
The nervous man retreated back out of the room, almost bowing as he went, as if he were leaving the presence of royalty.
Cloud wondered if perhaps he should have placed his hands behind his head in the present stance when the servant had entered, but the general didn't make any remark upon it, nor did he turn to chastise him, so he thought that maybe he wouldn't get punished for not doing so.
Within a few minutes, the servant returned and he carefully placed the pitcher of iced water that he was carrying upon a free area next to the general's arm.
"Shall I pour for you, sir?"
A simple nod from the silver head and the servant hastily picked up the glass and began to pour, lifting the filled glass to his own lips and taking a small sip from the tumbler first, before offering the drink to the seated man.
As Sephiroth took the glass and raised it to his mouth, the servant began to turn away, only to have one wrist caught in a bruising vice like grip as he was swung back around to face a suddenly furious general.
"What the hell do you call this?" Sephiroth bellowed.
Even Cloud blanched at the sound of the irate voice, and he shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped several degrees at once. With blinding clarity, Cloud realized that his captor's bad mood had somehow been a factor in the lowering of the temperature in the room, his ill temper somehow affecting the level of heat loss. And he began to wonder just what sort of man he was up against.
The terrified servant that was held fast within the generals hold was visibly trembling and shaking, his knocking knees barely able to hold him up.
"I swear sir, it is only plain water...you saw me try it. There is nothing in it."
The poor man was babbling, his words almost incoherent as he spoke fast and urgently. "Here sir, please...pass me the glass and I will drink from it again to prove to you that it is untainted."
The tight grip on the held wrist increased, and the man finally succumbed to the bone crunching pressure and fell to the floor, his pained face showing the distress he was in, the hand that was being squeezed starting to turn white and mottled. His fingers were clawed and grasping, as if reaching out desperately for freedom.
"I...I promise, sir...there is nothing in your drink," he tried again, desperately.
"It is not the drink that I am concerned about," the general responded, his voice as cold as the room now was.
"But...but...then sir, what?"
Sephiroth raised the glass of water up that he held in his free hand.
"What do you call this?" he demanded.
The held servant looked puzzled at the nearly full tumbler of liquid. He shook his head, not understanding the question or the problem.
"LOOK!" Sephiroth roared, pushing the offending item up close to the held mans face. "This glass is filthy. You dare to serve me water from a dirty container?"
Both Cloud and the servant stared at the crystal glass, its shiny surface clean and sparkling. The man's mouth opened and he tried to speak, but no words would come out. He knew nothing he said would make any difference. If he argued and said that the glass was not dirty, after the general had said that it was, or if he played dumb and went along with the general in agreeing that indeed the glass was dirty, the outcome of his fate would be the same either way.
In desperation, he turned his eyes upon the blond boy who was looking at him with such sympathy in his blue eyes. But no help was to be forthcoming from there.
The sound of the glass being dashed against a wall, the tinkling of the broken shards falling to the floor, filled the air of the hushed room.
Moving with reflexes as quick as lightening the general stood up and still gripping the servant, dragged the man behind him to where he had thrown the glass, moving his hand now from its painful grip on the mans wrist and grabbing instead a fistful of hair, pushing and forcing the mans face down close towards the jagged and broken pieces of crystal.
"If you ever..ever..." Sephiroth hissed, "dare to serve me from a dirty glass again, so help me, I swear you will wear a reminder on your face for the remainder of your days. Now get up," he spat, finally releasing the quaking, crying man. "Get up, and get me a fresh glass. And make sure that it is a clean one this time."
As the man hastened towards the door, and freedom, Sephiroth called out and halted him. Almost reluctantly, the man froze where he stood, and looked back, making no move to step closer to the general, his frightened eyes staring and wondering what was about to happen now.
Casually, almost with distain, Sephiroth retook his seat and pulled at the chain that attached his prisoner to the chair.
Feeling the tug on his collar, Cloud crawled towards the general, his glance nervously switching between the silver haired man and the servant standing by the door. He wondered if he too were in for some form of punishment, simply because his captor was in a bad mood.
Lifting the boys head up, Sephiroth unclipped the chain from the collar bound around his neck, freeing Cloud from its restraint and urging the kneeling cadet to stand.
"Take this boy with you," the general said, addressing the still cowering servant. "You can show him where the pitchers, water and glasses are kept. Go on boy, what are you waiting for? Move!"
As a swinging hand connected with his ass in a stinging slap, Cloud found he didn't need telling twice. Almost as if his aching muscles had never hurt, he hurried after the quickly scurrying servant, who seemed as if he were trying to put as much distance between himself and the general as possible in as short a time as he was capable of.
Even though Cloud had to practically run to keep up, he still took the time to look left and right, always hopeful of seeing something to his advantage.
But every single door they passed seemed to be guarded, and every single window was too high and inaccessible.
The servant led the way to a big open room where a huge table in the middle of the floor was stacked with pitchers and glasses. There were several large grey metal refrigerators, which the servant opened to show Cloud that they contained virtually everything that anyone needed.
Cold meats, salads, eggs, prepared sandwiches, bottles of wine and mouth watering desserts, all were stacked neatly within the cold chambers.
"Not that you'll ever really need to open the fridges with the food in them. The general never has anything from those. But I thought I would show you them, just in case," the servant informed Cloud, before leading the way over to a smaller steel fridge that had a drink dispenser on the front of the door.
"Here, this is all he ever partakes of. Simple cold water."
The servant turned and picked up a clean pitcher from the central table, casting a critical eye over the jug before returning back to the fridge with the drinks dispenser and placing the jug beneath the nozzle, depressing the button on the door to allow the cold water to flow. Once full, he handed the filled container to Cloud.
But..." Cloud objected. "He has a jug of water already. What will he want with another?"
"Trust me," the servant replied knowingly. "If I go back there without one, I'll be in the wrong. He's going to find fault no matter what I do, so I'm just trying to cover all my bases. Here, you pick a glass for him and see if you can appease his foul mood. I swear there was nothing wrong with that glass I gave him. Probably nothing more than a speck of dust."
Cloud approached the table and chose a glass, holding it up high towards the single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. He couldn't see anything, but just to be on the safe side he put the pitcher down and picked up a drying cloth, wiping both the inside and the outside of the glass thoroughly before setting the cleaned receptacle down upon a tray, careful not to let his fingertips touch the glass and leave smudge marks.
"Don't you feel a little, underdressed?" the servant asked, his roving eyes that were sliding over Clouds semi nude form glistening with lust. He himself was dressed appropriately in a smart black and burgundy uniform, but as he took in the boy's lack of apparel, he found he liked it.
Cloud turned his head from the servant's blatant stare, his cheeks burning with indignation.
"What choice do I have?" he retorted.
"I guess I was lucky," the servant said, moving to stand close to Cloud, moving closer again when Cloud tried to move away.
Realizing he wasn't going to be left alone, Cloud gave a resigned sigh.
"Lucky?" he asked, hoping that by talking to the man, he might be able to distract him from what he was obviously thinking.
"Yeah," the servant replied, closing the gap between them once more. "I heard the story about the blind prisoner, and how he came to be blinded. That could so easily have been me just now, back in there."
"The general...blinded someone?" Cloud asked, his voice hushed with dread.
"He did," the servant confirmed. "Story goes, this prisoner was an artist. He couldn't stand being held in one of those white cell rooms. Almost drove him insane."
Cloud nodded in understanding sympathy. Being incarcerated in one of those rooms himself had drove him to try and commit suicide. He listened agog as the servant continued on with his story.
"Well apparently, this artist made a paintbrush somehow out of his own hair, and started biting himself to draw blood to use as ink. Some of the guards say he painted the most amazing and intricate patterns and pictures on his cell walls. Unfortunately for him, word got back to the general about what was happening. They say he stormed in there in a rage, and literally tore the man's eyes from his head with his bare hands. His second in command tried to stop him, but its rumored that General Sephiroth was screaming, 'If these white walls of mine offend this prisoner's eyes so much, I'll make it so no view ever offends his eyes again!.' And that's just what he did do."
Nervous apprehension building within his stomach at the story, Cloud picked up the jug of water and added it to the tray, placing it next to the glass tumbler. He found himself imagining all sorts of gruesome scenarios awaiting him upon his return to the general's room, and his hands were trembling when he picked up his chosen items.
All the way back, Cloud tortured himself with what could possibly happen to him if the silver haired man found fault with anything. What if the general saw something on the glass that Cloud could not see? What if the water tasted bad? What if he...
Approaching the general's rooms, Cloud knew he had no choice but to go in. He tried to look confident, but his shaky hands spoke volumes for him. It was all he could do to try and prevent the water from spilling out over the sides of the pitcher, he was quaking so much.
Under the attentive servant's guidance, Cloud was shown how to stand to the side of the general's desk and pour the fresh water into the new glass. Then, hardly daring to breathe, Cloud picked the glass up and offered it to the silver haired man, who was still sat hunched up over the keyboard of his computer.
A discreet cough had Cloud pulling his pro-offered hand back sharply, and his face swung round to the servant, who motioned to Cloud to sip the water first.
Holding down a sigh of relief that the general hadn't seen his mistake, Cloud did as instructed and raised the drink to his mouth, careful not to let the glass make contact with his lips, only letting the tumbler rest on the top of his tongue, and allowing a small bit of the liquid to guide down his throat.
At a nod from the watching servant, Cloud lowered the glass and then offered it again to the general.
Accepting the drink, Sephiroth inspected the glass minutely, before lifting it to his own mouth and downing the water all in one gulp, throwing his head back as he did so.
Cloud watched with mixed emotions as the man drank, his eyes locked onto the generals dilating throat. He was confused. He knew he wanted to slit that piece of exposed flesh with a knife and yet...at the same time, he wanted to plant his lips against the smooth skin that was on show, again and again.
Feeling his face burn with shame and humiliation, Cloud forced himself to lower his eyes to the floor, forcing his mind to stop thinking such unwanted thoughts.
Placing the empty tumbler back on the tray, Sephiroth nodded his dismissal to the waiting servant, before addressing Cloud.
"You did well," he said, the approval plain to hear in his voice. "In future, I shall expect you to wait on me. From now on, you will be the one responsible for fetching and serving my refreshments."
Cloud lifted his glance up from the floor just enough to see the hastily retreating form of the servant who was hurrying towards the door. Once there the man paused momentarily, and this time it was his eyes that stared back at Cloud with sympathy.