> Sneaks up on the Strife papa and showers him with affection.
{☣} || --------Wonders quietly if Sora had too much ice cream that day that made him randomly attack people with this so-called affection, but that doesn't mean there's no appreciation for it. Pat, pat, pat, pat on kiddo's head that flattened those wild spikes for a moment. ❝ You alright...? ❞
"Hey!" The blonde yelled, grocery bags full of food, and anger on her tongue, "Whatcha doin' standin' in the middle o' the road for, huh?" She popped her hip, showing the mini soldier in her loop hole, "Ya okay? Are ya lost?"
{☣} || A t f i r s t i t w o u l d a p p e a r a s t h o u g h h e h a dfailed to hear anything from the lady as he remained steadfast with his stance, back turned towards her and vision focused due north as if waiting for some intervention of sorts to happen in the middle of the thoroughfare.
Soon though, the blond male's stare would shift with a sedate turning of the head and striking azure irises peered beyond the battle-broadened shoulders, both oculars hinting the faintest of interests and questioning her rather confrontational tone.
❝ No, ❞ Cloud tilted his head to the side to gesture his disagreement, ❝ My bike had been stolen the other day... 'Heard someone saw it passing here twice. ❞
“Oh…you did? I don’t remember. Oh well. I’m glad to see you back so soon!” She replied coyly moving to hug him. She had seen crumbs on the counter after Cloud went into the kitchen.
{☣} || Well--leaving the talk about the precious cookies would probably the best of their interests, especially that it was the first time that the courier have had snacks back at home in weeks. Besides, he'd give her something that should probably do the trick of distracting her from the topic at hand.
❝ Yeah, s'been a while. ❞ A discreet smile was in his face as the girl took him into an embrace, only for it to fade as he tried to dig his pockets. When he reached out, there was a small glimmering object in his palm--a silver fleur de lis hairpin. ❝ Got it from the old lady in Kalm. Thought you'd like it. ❞
"Soo…did you take the last cookies?"
{❄} || ❝ Aah... had meat for breakfast, Marlene. ❞ ---------Ehem, ignore the crumbs stuck in his clothes.
The trip had been going well so far. Squall had taken a liking to the larger city and in particular the famous vendor in the city’s center. Why you ask? Well.. it was where Tidus had previously purchased the nutella sweets he’d given to him awhile ago, and wouldn’t you know it… for the two days they had spent here so far Tidus was asked to go back constantly for more. Someone doesn’t know how to save his sweets…. The hustle and bustle of the city was quite rampant today, but then again.. Luca was always busy. Busier than most places in Spira anyway. The athlete was tasked with once again, picking up the hazelnut treat for the lion, but almost every 5 minutes Tidus was stopped and asked for an autograph, a photo…. a date or two even. [which of course he politely declined but made a promise to dedicate a goal to said fangirl.. or boy]. Thankfully Squall was back at the inn resting and did not have to endure such …rowdyness. However… I wasn’t expecting it.. in fact I thought that he was off somewhere far away, I thought I wouldn’t see him for several more months maybe..that’s how it was for us. He came.. then he went.. and so much time always passed in between.. …. This time.. I had good news to tell him…. …This time… I learned something … something I thought was just a dream… or rather.. like a nightmare.
Standing there in the crowd, luminous blue orbs were staring back at the athlete. His eyes always stood out to Tidus, they were enchanting in that way. Everyone else had faded out of thought and the chatter of fans disappeared in his mind. Excitement started to grow and he pushed through the crowd, muttering ‘sorries and excuse mes’ to the people. No one else mattered, his friend was back again and there was a bright smile growing wider with each second as he drew closer.
” … Cloud!”
{☣} || --------------------A n o t h e r d r e a m ?
Seemingly so, for the male was being bothered by odd sensations: as if his head was to explode and that his legs continued to take him forward although if felt like he was treading on nothing but air. Floating was one concrete word to describe it, but judging with the way his shoulders were slowly dragging him down with an invisible weight upon them, it could also be a case of exhaustion and utter confusion.
It was surreal, or may it be so, imaginary. If only the force that hits his arm or leg every time a child or a woman--or any individual who seemed to be frantic and urgent that a commotion was slowly building up in the avenue--collided with him, Cloud never would have confirmed it for himself that while the morning was spent with a queue of deliveries being accomplished, the afternoon was occupied with finding a way out of the foreign town that he seemed to have been magically transported to; in the first place, when Fenrir was rested by the Church's vestibule, all he was expecting was to get some ample amount of rest before pursuing the other half of the goals for that day. Next came was the inexplicable which sent him without a clue into a square with a raving crowd, so hyped (and noisy) that all he had to do was stand still and the current of the mob pushed him along.
Obviously this was no situation that would induce any motivation or a mere smile from a man who had been limited with such gesture; blond locks were made vibrant under the tamed heat of the sun in contrast with the contained, darkened vexation in the courier's visage. The blame could be pinpointed to the Lifestream or whatever that is that he had yet to find out----
Although in that single instance that he lifted his eyes from the sea of people and actually looked, he stumbled with something--or rather someone--who wasn't entirely an answer to what had been boggling with his mind but rather a colossal hint into figuring out the mystery... and himself.
❝ You... ❞ What's the meaning of this, who are you, he wanted to ask as he met the beckoning gaze whose bold shade of blue rivaled his own, but as his steps went unconsciously quicker to make the meeting sooner than it should be, a name slipped from his mouth without even any signs of fore-thoughts, and instead, mild shock from a sudden familiarity with the stranger from deep within.
❝ Tidus...? ❞
Gon blinked twice and had to think for a fleeting second what weapon the blond was talking about. He looked over his shoulder and noticed his fishing rod. It had been a while since he brought this with him. His father, Ging, used this when he caught the large fish called Master of the Swamp back in Whale Island.
In his first visit here in Greed Island, he had no weapons, except for the spells in his book. He merely relied on his physical strength to take the enemies out, as well as teamwork. He wouldn’t have finished the game the first time if it weren’t for his allies. And speaking of teamwork, he recalled Razor, one of the game’s creators. He should pay him a visit sometime. Maybe Liszt and Dwun would be glad to see him again. He could already imagine their delight to see Ging’s son again. Eeta was surprised and happy to meet Gon again, and she was relieved he was able to meet his father in spite of the older man’s shyness.
But the paranoid side of his mind made him think of other scenarios.
They would wonder why he was a l o n e
They would ask where his best friend was— Where Killua was.
Maybe they would even ask why he wasn’t together with him.
—That he owed the white-haired boy a lot. His little sister saved his life, after all.
“Hmm, sure. I use it as a weapon sometimes, but I mostly use it to catch fishes.” Though he would immediately throw them back to the lake. There were cards that could be transformed into food. There were many restaurants to dine in too. Greed Island was just like any other place in the world.
—It was just a little different.
The older male must be slightly surprised to see a kid in this kind of island. But he didn’t treat him like any of the other citizens in the island. Gon pondered how he was able to figure it out. Well, entry to the game was almost impossible without learning the basics of Nen. He must have somehow sensed Gon’s Nen.
Gon scratched the back of his head. He didn’t want to boast about it, but he wasn’t a liar either. He hoped the other male wouldn’t think he was lying. “Er, I’ve already finished the game once,” he uttered with a chuckle. “I’m actually the son of one of the creators of the game. His name is Ging Freecs. Ah, I’m Gon Freecs, by the way! Pleasure to meet you!”
The island boy blinked a few times. “You noticed it too?” He cupped his chin, raising an eyebrow and thinking of a possible reason why the man would set his sights on them. He wasn’t intimidated by the stares. He had faced worse than that. “Maybe they want to take cards from us. But I’m yet to buy myself spell cards again. Maybe we should go to Masadora! There’re lots of useful cards that we can buy there.”
{☣} || In the world they were currently interacting, a l i e is a staple weapon for everyone that breathes; it could change the flow of a battle or an encounter, cost lives, severe friendships--but most importantly, a precursor and a trump card for s u r v i v a l .
He could have easily dismissed the prior admission as nothing but deceit, maybe because Gon was simply trying to win him over as an ally, use his strength as an advantage against potential rivals and enemies--two is better than one in the first place and the favor could work both ways. Fortunately, for both males, that they didn't need to have any kind of friction or doubt; that bright glow surrounding the kid was more than an assurance that he need not worry about foul intentions and ill-willed pretenses. That pressure unconsciously being given off by the other's Nen was a sign too, that he was capable of beating the game and even more capable of returning for a second try.
Odd though that a previous victor had entered a l o n e . Was it courage? Confidence? Air headed-ness? Boredom? Vengeance? Thirst for adventure-----
Escaping loneliness itself?
At the end of the day, even if there was a tiny room for questioning and as much as the blond wanted to seize it to rid himself of his inquiries, Cloud kept his thoughts. Not yet, he didn't have the right to ask yet; not that he was betting trust towards the ravenet, but something urged him to leave things as they are currently. That he'd have his answers soon.
That there was a reason why he met the son of one of the creators of Greed Island... which would inevitably bring him one step closer to his goal.
❝ Ah... I see... ❞ All he did was nod in acceptance, curiosity or any other expression not evident in his face save for the fact that he was still keeping an eye to the other hunter emanating ill-intent towards his companion. Perhaps from then on he also had treated that someone way younger than he was had completed the game--when it comes to strength he should not fall behind any competitor--hence his chances of clearing the ordeal were inflated. As for the spell cards...
❝ Masadora...? It ain't fair, is it? ❞ He haven't heard of that name yet, although should it be far, he would have missed the presence of his dearest Fenrir.
It has come to a point where R E G R E T isn’t an emotion, but rather it was a CHOICE ; Even if it shatters me, even if it kills me, With all my sins, My heart has to have no space for regret——
I don’t deserve feeling it anymore.
—— ✦ Both corners of Vincent’s mouth curve upward, indicating vague amusement at the joking response. Moments later the expression is gone, neutrality taking its place once more.
“I spoke with Tifa during my last stop in Edge.” A pause. “She is…worried.” That you’re distancing yourself again. Like before.
Unspoken insinuations.
Vincent knows he of all people has no room to talk; he’s simply relaying a message from a friend. With said message given, the gunman shifts slightly, head tilting down so that only the upper half of his face is visible from beneath his cowl.
P r e s s u r e.
A feeling not uncommon as of late; the lack of activity’s been wearing them all down. Switching from an on-the-go, save-the-world lifestyle to the normalcy of now was…jarring, to say the least.
Especially to Cloud. Vincent could spot the heavy weight bearing down upon his friend from miles away. Desperate for action, a new purpose, something.
Maybe a fight would do some good. With no threat of death or world annihilation looming over their heads, it would be a way to let off steam, release the build-up that had been festering for too long.
“…Cloud.” Unclawed hand itching to draw the three-barreled revolver at his side, Vincent realises how much he needs a break of sorts as well. Needs an opponent that is capable of challenging him, of potentially surpassing him. “Though the occasional monster extermination is doing wonders in keeping our battle skills intact—” (blatantly dry sarcasm accompanied by the smallest, almost playful of smirks) “—perhaps a good natured ‘ass-kicking’ between friends is required?”
There are plenty of spots out in the wastes where said ass-kicking could take place; areas where n o r m a l humans wouldn’t dare tread for fear of being devoured by vicious monsters, where they wouldn’t face the risk of civilians getting caught in their crossfire.
{☣} || Just as he thought, t h e y w e r e t a l k i n g .
Over dinner, during short visits, in group discourses, in between Yuffie's lively narrations of her escapades--they were talking about him, thinking about his next plan of actions and inevitably worrying about his state of mind or how stable his spirits were.
Sad it is, or perhaps unfortunate that he keeps drawing attention to himself when that is the last thing he wanted to happen: it defeats the purpose of isolation for he did not desire to burden anyone with his seemingly needless concerns and soul-searching and instead the opposite transpired.
The more he was solitary, the more they devoted thoughts for him; the more he aimed to be forgotten, even for just a few weeks or a month, the more they remembered.
--------How... galling.
It was as if this meeting had been purposeful for it pierced through his routine of lonesomeness, and if there was any consolation, it was the case of Vincent finding him. The man was the least intrusive, at least outwardly, since the necessity for words when they try to connect with each other had always been scarce. As such, with the way those fingers latched on the ornate weapon, Cloud knew the long-haired male had something else in mind other than dwelling about the dullness of their recent lives or the absence of the purpose to continue fighting (which undeniably had been an overwhelming part of the past years).
There were used to being unhuman after all. It was a habit that was hard to force out of their system--and a little challenge of going up against a comrade presented a very interesting scenario.
Small yet precise movements, and the younger man was up in his feet donning an expression of relief, a smile ghosting his features for a couple of seconds rather than the hidden frown from earlier.
❝ Ass-kicking makes it sound so... one-sided. ❞ A not-so-discreet flexing of fingers here and there, an open posture to free up himself for virtually any movement possible. ❝ Don't hear you much like that anymore. ❞ Being smug, that is, and maybe it was an entertaining thought. It doesn't mean that he'd triumph over Cloud Strife, though. They'd have to grind it out to find out, aye.
You know who would say that they weren’t an intruder?
—An intruder.
To believe a word that came out of this guys mouth would be stupidity in it’s most basic form, stuff that even children wouldn’t do. No, Sheena had every right to be suspicious, to act in self-defense, though she certainly wished that she had some form of back-up.
Strange, for a delivery guy to have such honed reflexes —so he was someone who wasn’t a stranger to fighting, more than that though, he was skilled at it, he had an acute awareness for hostility that any trained fighter would have. Sheena landed from her attack a reasonable distance from this man, amber eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Not many delivery guys I know carry a weapon like that.”
Her tone was low, dark and every bit confrontational, though her features remained impassive, focused in preparation from the oncoming attack she was preempting. Between her fingers she held a sliver of paper tightly, twitching as though it were a trigger finger.
"So lemme ask you again —explain why you’re really here.”
{❄} || Such shame it should be viewed akin to stupidity when all the blond was doing was to be divulge truthful details, despite the lack of a proper introduction or a disclosure of his entire identity. The blame couldn't be attributed to the male solely, however. He would have gone for a short but curt greeting upon the sight of who appeared to be the owner of the establishment (or at least it was under her custody), but that initial hostility made every ideal of courtesy went down the drain right away.
Returning the argument, if ever he was indeed an intruder, then why must she act in a whole new level of defensiveness?
Cloud was abstracting personal details which need not get involved in encounters, and as for the woman, why would she go lengths to launch an attack?
Perhaps she was hiding something. Maybe there was more to her other than her astounding swiftness and agility.
The suspicious stare was direct and undisguised towards his direction, and after ruminating silently for moments, bright blue eyes were soon shifted to reciprocate the gesture. It was his turn to be skeptical, only in his own way.
❝ You said it yourself... Not many, but not none. ❞
Hence, there is room for exception. Why would he lie about the job he had been engrossing himself with for years already, anyway? The wasteland could be unfriendly to travelers and hitting the road there without any kind of defense would be reckless--besides she, who possessed a weapon on her own (that oddly resembles a mere piece of paper), has diminished rights question about a man's decision to wield his sword.
❝ I'm carrying this for the same reason as you do. ❞ He relaxed his stance infinitesimally, though remaining to be mindful of her intent to attack. One hand reached in his pockets to bring out a card with the label of their business on it and held it out, his face devoid of any expression besides hints of vexation.
❝ I am a courier. ❞
{❄} || --------G u e s s w h o ' s b a c k , b a c k a g a i n .
Final Fantasy Minimalistic - Heroes Version
Final Fantasy Minimalistic - Villain Version
A V A L A N C H E
JOIN THE CAUSE, SAVE GAIA.
⌠ℐ⌡ — Jack’s composure was thrown off kilter once more when the other so easily mocked him for stating that he didn’t know. The snow-white haired male narrowed his gaze for a moment, lips parted as he watched the other nonchalantly juggle the wrench. The worst part of it was how he looked down at Jack.
"Alright, Goldilocks, you want to play this game? Two can play at this game," he retorted. He turned away and took two gliding strides that brought him toward the counter top. Seeking out a ruler, he spun it skillfully with just his fingertips as though to mock the others play of the wrench.
"And I do have a choice… when did I stop having a choice when to become the android? It was my idea…” He paused in what he was doing, curious and watching the other for an answer on this.
{☣} || S o t h a t c a r d i s i n p l a y . F i n a l l y .
He had been waiting for it to come up all these time, to be honest; the entire thing entirely Jack's idea, for Jack's benefit, for Jack to finally leave him alone so he could go back to what was once peaceful life he was leading, or rather the semblance of it.
If he wanted all the credit, then might as well phrase it that it was the ashen-haired male's fault.
Is it not? They would have never arrived to this point if it weren't for his sudden intrusion at the workshop, or that reckless attempt to drive Fenrir around, include that severe confrontation that came afterwards. Both of them wanted to escape from each other's burden, and the spirit wisely proposed this compromise. A wonder it is that the mechanic actually agreed into it; as far as he knows he had been avoiding tampering with human life after his failed attempts that caused him a loss of his closest friends... but then again, the other male was no human, in the first place. Would it entitle him to be less careful just to get things over with?
[ Or maybe he was seizing the chance to redeem himself. ]
Either way, succeeding in this would not bring back Zack and Aerith to Earth... If there was anything that he could treat as a reward from the deal, it was that they'd never have to put up with their equal stubbornness--obviously Jack would have a longer list of benefits, that's why, he ought to be more cooperative rather than stay pompous and troublesome.
“ Of course you have... ” He leaned against the table with two arms supporting his weight, the wrench forgotten for quite some time, lips pressed together as he struggled with what he wanted to say but limiting it in the fewest words as possible. “ I'm your host, though. ”
