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Post by Vincent on Mar 5, 2010 16:06:51 GMT -5
Vincent’s brows furrowed as Yuffie mentioned dreams, and the strange smile slid from his face as she told him of his presence in it. Did this mean something? Could it have anything to do with the ghostly visit of his long-dead father? Vincent broke eye contact, darting his eyes towards the window that had started to reveal the sun’s rays into the old mansion, hiding away its dark secrets until night would fall once again. By next nightfall they’d be gone, blazing a trail to Edge to decipher whatever mysteries had caused the lost number to rise from its deathbed and lead an attack on the two of them. Though Vincent wanted answers, he doubted even Reeve, with all his resources and smarts would even know.
There were very few times through his long life that Vincent had felt crippled and confused, when indecisiveness gripped him at a time where action was vital, and this was one of them. Paranoia was eating away at his brain, and the dream that had occurred during his sleep had him suspecting his own involvement in this new crisis. Between Yuffie’s sudden appearance, the rise of the lost number and the eerie dream, Vincent was sure that some new calamity had come along to plague the land once again. The world, weary from its last disaster with Deepground, would struggle to again endure the ravages of an enemy. Keeping his silence, he sat up in his bed, and Yuffie’s hand slid from his shoulder to rest lightly against his pale chest, causing him to become aware of just how close she was. For what felt like the hundredth time in just two days he felt his eyes drawn to her face, hovering mere inches from his own, a strange expression on her youthful features.
It surprised the loner how much he had become accustomed to her company, and he had realised in his years solitude he had longed unconsciously for contact, and it had been Yuffie of all people to bring him back from his lonesome existence this time around. Despite these human feelings that stirred within him as a response to contact with one of his friends once again, he still knew the need to keep his distance, to stay cold and guarded so as to protect those around him. From the beasts inside him. From himself. Though it was becoming harder to do this each day, and he wondered if the time would soon come when he would snap under the pressure and give in, or if he would have the strength to leave his friends before that happened.
“I’m healed” he replied, peeling back the covers to reveal a bloody but undamaged torso, thanks to his healing factor. “You?” he couldn’t help asking, finding it strange that she was up this early after such a physically draining day. His eyes were still on her, his face straight and composed, showing no hint of the concern he felt – he hoped that his voice didn’t betray his feelings.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Mar 8, 2010 18:04:56 GMT -5
The man's chest felt as smooth as it looked; his skin was so soft that she felt as if she would tear it just by touching it. It shocked her so that she almost didn't want to move her trembling fingers just from that realization. The idea that such beauty could be broken, shattered like glass, whether from the scratch of a fingernail or the large, gaping hole from a horrid monster dumbfounded the ninja for a moment or two. Her pupils traced his flawless, white flesh down to his stomach, which seemed virtually unharmed save for the long-dried blood.
"Wow...You're lucky you're you..." Whether she was at a loss of words from the perfection of the no-longer-woundy-wound or more because being this close to Vincent seemed to cloud whatever things she had to say, not even she was sure. Yuffie was, by nature, obnoxious, arrogant, greedy, restless, and a countless list of other things that could prove quite demeaning to her character, yet everything about Vincent never failed to both ease her tension and aggravate her a little bit more in some way. Oftentimes, it was at herself, since even when she realized when it was useless to continue whining and fighting with the man, her pride would never let her throw in the shuriken. (What she referred to as 'fighting' for the two of them was usually Yuffie throwing a temper-tantrum and the silent gunman simply ignoring her... That was always how it used to go. Vincent spoke, Yuffie complained, he became silent, she complained more... She really preferred not to think of those days.)
Vincent was like a double-edged sword. Even now. Her fingers tensed against his chest as they locked eyes, his expression ever-collected, hers a bit frazzled and most likely a wreck. Her hazel pupils mere inches away from his bloody diamonds...
Finally realizing how close they really were, Yuffie began to panic.
The warmth of his eyes nearly gave her a cold sweat.
What was...this?
It was something that Yuffie didn't like, that was for sure... Feeling helpless, mentally or physically, even for a moment, could mean the difference between life and death---in ANY situation.
In a rush to escape whatever had come over her (which she, in fact, didn't care to understand) she pushed herself from the man's side and over the side of the bed, landing gracefully on her feet in a wonderful display of ability. She hoped and prayed beyond reason that the man had noticed no changes in her, especially since she couldn't understand how or why they were present. It was as if she....didn't really want to move from her place beside the man. And that time it....was no longer a matter of warmth or comfort...
"Yep, all better." Yuffie smiled up at the man through conflicted eyes that she tried her best to conceal with every ounce of deception within her. "There's nothing the Great Ninja Yuffie can't handle," she laughed at the beginning of her own, prideful joke (the irony unknown to the gunman). "Except, of course...a large, gaping wound to the stomach. I'll leave that stuff to you." The ninja's sarcasm was always amusing to SOMEone---even if she just-so-happened to be that very one.
Thank Leviathan for her quick-wit... Gawd, it's going to be a very long day...
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Post by Vincent on Mar 12, 2010 17:03:33 GMT -5
Vincent felt Yuffie’s small hand tense against his bare chest, the slight movement painfully obvious to the gunman. Was this some sort of reaction to how close they were at the moment? – was it a sense of fear? Dark eyebrows furrowed and a questioning expression came upon his pale face as he considered the state of their friendship. Since Yuffie had come to the mansion, her guess at where he had spent his time for the past years being strangely accurate, he felt there was something different between them. Whether this shift was attributable to Yuffie’s change of character (as he had barely changed, save for slightly less self-loathing) or whether their opportunity to be alone with each other and in such vulnerable positions had somehow added a new level to their friendship, Vincent wasn’t sure. Regardless of what had caused this change of atmosphere, there was definitely a much closer bond between the two of them. This change intrigued Vincent, but made him want to move away, the reliability and concern he felt for her damaging his ability to be cold and distant from those around him.
The happy, cheerful Yuffie now gazing into his eyes seemed a world apart from the sobbing girl the night before, and it made him see (not for the first time) that there was more to Yuffie than the materia-obsessed ninja that everyone took her for. In that respect, the two of them were alike, as both hid their weakness and vulnerabilities behind a facade, even if the personalities they hid behind were so different. It was proof that the burden of any hero (not just of one that felt endless guilt over past sins) wasn’t always a manageable one.
The sudden leap was something that took him by surprise – a hard task to accomplish considering his stoic disposition. The moments of comfortable silence between them seemed to wrap Vincent up in deep contemplation, but now he had to consider the possibility that he was the only one experiencing this. For all he knew, Yuffie was oblivious to how he was starting to see her in a very different light and had ignored the more social attitude he was taking. Lightly shaking his head at Yuffie’s characteristically ridiculous dive, he rose from the bed, red eyes searching the floor, now illuminated by sunshine pouring in through the room’s only window.
“Glad to hear it” was all he said as he looked around for the clothes he had haphazardly discarded the previous night. As the sun started to climb its way up to the sky, he knew that the inhabitants of Nibelheim would be up and about in a few minutes, though whether or not they noticed the battle that had raged inside the mansion earlier was something the gunslinger wasn’t sure of.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Mar 17, 2010 20:38:55 GMT -5
((I'm really not in the mindset to tell if this post is just a bunch of rambling or not. So if it is, I'll be sure to fix it later. Until then...deal. >_> lol))
Yuffie scratched the back of her head, chuckling a bit.
"Thanks for the concern, Vinny. No, really." She stretched, reaching her arms toward the high ceiling. It seemed years away when compared to her lack of size. A younger Yuffie would have wished to be that tall when she grew up with just one glance; she would have been positive that one day, even if it took longer than forever to reach that day, that she would have to duck her head to fit into the room.
She remembered staring up at her father's pagoda as a child... Why weren't people that tall? The answer was simple: they just didn't want to be. A younger Yuffie believed that dreams shaped people; that if someone wanted to be tall, they would be. If someone wanted to take over the world, they would find some way to accomplish it. (ShinRa sure did. Maybe the people in charge of the company dreamed that someday they'd pull it off?) And that meant---more like proved---that if she wanted to be a princess like in the stories, and be brave, and save Wutai...she would one day be able to do it.
Had she really changed that much...?
Her eyes lingered on the pointed edges of the shelter above her. Even when her arms fell back to her sides, she seemed to be searching, desperately, for something unreachable.
For a moment, while still in a trance, she thought of Vincent.
As much as she didn't want to concentrate on the moment before, it wasn't something that could be helped. His eyes, his frame, his figure, the feel of his hair... Thinking about the time just before she found herself standing on the floor, even for just a second, made Yuffie recoil in what felt like a mix of awkward fear and fascination.
It was a sort of mental crossroads--the likes of which no one would ever imagine within the mind of the ninja. She was stuck in the middle of four mental pathways: ignorance, confusion, intimidation, and anger (the last being a choice simply because it seemed to work when the others didn't). She stood by a sign that read 'This way,' and 'That way,' and 'Really? This way?' and, most curiously, 'I really wouldn't take this path if I were you.' Swearing up and down, trying to make a desicion and (obviously) failing in a most embarrassing manner, she waited.
Perhaps such a mental image really wasn't an uncommon idea to relate to Yuffie's position--there seemed to be no better way to describe it. But still, the fact that she was concentrating on anything at all was unsatisfying. Just the idea of this aggravation made her feel a bit sick.
After a long while, she managed to snap herself back to reality just enough to effectively communicate.
"When are we leaving?" It was a half-assed attempt to seem mentally unpreoccupied, but it was all that she could muster. "It smells like dust and rot here," she finished with a chuckle. That was a bit better.
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Post by Vincent on Mar 23, 2010 15:28:38 GMT -5
((I’m having a slight block, so I apologise if this shows through in the following post, )) -- Vincent managed to locate his discarded shirt lying haphazardly with the other items strewn about the floor, either ignored or forgotten in last night’s haste to rest and sleep away any memories of last night’s events. Red eyes squinted as the sunshine hit him square in the face, highlighting the pale skin that was so rarely exposed to the sunrise – night bore darkness and shadows, a world Vincent was far more comfortable in, as it could hide him easily, if from no-one else then from himself. Picking up the wrinkled shirt, he sneered slightly at the dried blood stain evident even on such a dark colour, along with the rip that had paved the way for the blood to pour over the garment. The gunman dropped it lazily moving out of the room, and headed to the closet to get another black shirt. Despite what seemed to be the opinion of the others in their party, he did in fact have spare clothes, as it was only the crimson cloak he was so well-known for that was one-of-a-kind. Turning around again at her childish comment, Vincent was met with the sight of Yuffie’s lithe body illuminated in the morning sun, and any words of scorn or sarcasm at her comment died on his lips. For some reason he was struck dumb, unable to fire a cutting remark to the wily ninja. Were things different? he had to ask himself, as he realised their dysfunctional banter was oddly absent, leaving these stretches of silence between them. At first Vincent just assumed Yuffie’s increase in age had also marked an increase in maturity, but that didn’t explain why he was unable to act normal around her. Vincent often aimed blame inwardly, and since his days as a Turk had revelled in the cycle of self-blame, guilt and anger. But now there was hope in his heart, and it couldn’t be silenced by the pain in his soul. “Yuffie....” he whispered, unsure of what he wanted to even say, he had yet to even clarify his feelings in his own mind, and it was hard to listen to his heart when his guarded psyche rejected all semblance of comfort in his quest for redemption. Who was to say he’d achieved it or not? Could it be that he was so dependent on his pain and torment that he hadn’t even noticed that he had opened himself up to those people close? Was his acquiring of friends a sign that he had finally been absolved of his past sins? He decided not to follow through his words, turning away from Yuffie to dress again, grabbing his cloak to finish the dramatic ensemble. “ Now” he said to her open question, though whether or not she was actually ready was a whole other issue. While the younger woman was used to light, fast traveling, she was also forgetful and impulsive in what she had, and it made leaving places hard, as she would often scramble around last minute trying to find something she had misplaced. Still, he doubted she’d made herself home in the gloomy mansion, as she seemed more scared of its haunted reputation than most. “ Are you ready?” he asked, this time loud enough for her to hear.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Mar 24, 2010 17:02:11 GMT -5
"Oh! Uhh.." Yuffie stood in her place and glanced at different areas of the room. She hated being rushed... She never really had the motivation to heed instruction, whether bowing to a teacher, or being told to gather her things to travel, and it never failed that every single time she was asked to be ready, she never was. In the moment of collecting mental images of every little thing that had accompanied her to a place, they always seemed to get misplaced somewhere within the reaches of her mind, much as the articles in the residence often did.
I don't...think I am... Her eyes lingered on the man for a moment. Just a second before, she could have sworn she saw his lips move. With her trained senses, she almost heard what sounded like her name. Perhaps it was out of exasperation, as oftentimes it was. Provided the action actually existed, though, was an entirely different story, and Yuffie was convinced that she was hearing nonsense. Or nothing at all, for on occasion her mind did attempt to play some sort of twisted trick on her, which left her wondering left from right when she was alone. But all thought processes aside, the real matter at hand was not taking up any more time gawking at her comrade and his/handsome/elegant stature as he replaced the shirt and cloak.
Wait a minute...what was the word in the middle...? Vincent...comrade...his, and elegant, and handso--- Handsoap. That's what it was. Handsoap. Not some other word that implied physical attraction to one's appearan... It was best to stop while she was ahead. The word worked for his face, so very rare and untouched by time, but as for the rest of him... Yuffie had watched his cloak flow behind him almost every time they were together. She'd been witness to his motions and frame for many years; they were nothing old, and nothing new. So, why, then, could she all but help staring at him as she would a master materia against a bunch of pebbels?
He was...Vincent. Just Vincent. Why was she suddenly tense, and worked-up? They'd been not-so-willing partners on countless assignments, from saving the world, to saving the gunman himself, and quite a few things in-between.
The ninja smacked herself in the face, perhaps an unconscious act out of frustration, or maybe to give herself something different to concentrate on. There were no answers for the questions of her confused state. There was only a small sting in her cheeks, nose, and forehead, which left her wondering what had happened to put it there a few seconds after she'd committed the act.
"I... I don't think I am." With her hand still over one eye she walked past the man, careful not to steal a glance at him, and unrolled her armor from the towel on the couch to sling it over her shoulder. After moving past him completely, she removed her hand from her face and picked up her weapon, which had remained where she had plopped it down last night. Good to know that no ninja-beasties had entered the room during the night, at least.
"We should still stock up before we leave. Think any of the shops are open so early?" She turned back to him as a habit, half cursing herself as she did so. She was beginning to think that she was ill and on her deathbed; such a strange mixture of everything from the past day seemed like a big, jumbled mess.
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Post by Vincent on Mar 30, 2010 7:43:17 GMT -5
A slight frown creased Vincent’s face as he watched Yuffie literally smack herself in the face in an almost comical act of frustration. Though very tempted to ask her what possessed her to hit herself square in the face for what seemed like no reason, he stopped himself, preferring not to question some of her more strange habits. The gunman was somewhat unsurprised when Yuffie informed him that she wasn’t ready, and he leaned against the arm of the couch, his scarlet orbs staring into space in the typical pose for the stoic fighter. However pre-occupied he may have looked at that moment, he still kept Yuffie in his peripheral vision, partly to make sure she was indeed readying for their trip, but also partly because he felt oddly happy watching her go about getting prepared for the journey to Edge.
When Yuffie asked him about the shops, he didn’t answer straight away, and instead thought about what they would need before recalling whether or not the shops of Nibelheim would be open at this early hour of the morning. Apart from the fire materia thrown to him yesterday, he had no materia at all and very few things in the way of items and equipment. Luckily for him, his reserved lifestyle meant he had a good amount of Gil to use for their supplies, as he doubt Yuffie would have much Gil on her. Taking the small orange orb from his pocket, he let out a small cough to catch her attention and held the materia out to her, gesturing for her to take it.
“I believe this is yours” he said, ignoring her question for the moment – he was sure she’d be happy to have the material back in her hands. “The shops should be open in about half an hour” he informed her. Despite spending some time brooding in the mansion since his return to Nibelheim, he still ventured out on occasion and knew the inhabitants of town by name. Since the battle with Deepground, he had clearly made more of an effort to fit in and be less distant than before. He still felt guilt over his past, and still worked hard to atone for his sins, but a new spark of optimism was inside him, though he had yet to actually use it to modify his lifestyle. He had considered buying clothes, cutting his hair or buying a house, but the actual act of changing himself (even just his appearance) was more of a big deal than he initially thought – after all, it had been over 30 years since he had attempted to live a normal life.
Turning his mind again to thoughts of what they would need, he remembered having his eye on a summon materia at the materia shop in town – Odin. Though he would never admit it to the material-obsessed Yuffie, their adventures (both against Sephiroth and against Weiss) had given him an interest in materia, especially summons. It was doubtful they would encounter anything on their journey that would force him to use a summon, but it was still nice to have, and he was sure that once Reeve briefed them they would have little time to prepare for whatever crisis faced them this time around.
"Is there anything specific you need?” he asked, already aware of what he was going to get, and though they would be sharing supplies, he was fairly certain she’d have something specific in mind (especially for either materia or food).
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Apr 5, 2010 9:02:18 GMT -5
Yuffie looked up at the man from picking something off the floor. She wasn't even completely sure what it was, but she'd figured looking busy was a bit better than doing nothing at all. The second-long glance that she'd gotten at it made it seem like another piece of Gil, one that she'd certainly be happy to have. Once she finally caught a glimpse of what the man had in his hand, she looked startled for what seemed like a long time, then her eyes squinted, seeming to take in the details of the sight.
"Feh," Yuffie scoffed. "You can have the damn thing..." In her voice resonated the familiar sound of silent rage, but this time it wasn't directed at the gunman. "I don't want it." Her voice sounded a bit hollow as she finally turned back to the floor. She was turning what was, indeed, a small coin between her fingers while stooped over the dusty floor. "Besides, I've got fifty-million more back at HQ!" That sounded a bit better. Her previous statements weren't exactly justified, but that had never stopped her before. Regardless of whether or not she made much sense, she grinned up at the man.
She didn't really feel much like herself anyway, so what was one lost out of fifty-million?
Finally she sighed, deciding that they weren't going anywhere until she got her ass in gear. She slipped her shirt on above the towel then pulled the rag of a bathrobe out from underneath it. Taking only a moment to attatch her chest and shoulder armor, she stood, trying to think of anything else she needed.
"Huh... How about potions and stuff?" She had enough materia to fill the slots on her weapons and equipped items. Whether or not Vincent needed it was another story, but she certainly did not. (Lest she find one that she did not have, then she did need it. But otherwise, no. Anything except for the blasted thing that she gave to Vincent.)
They would have a long trip ahead of them... Perhaps the Gold Saucer wouldn't be such a bad distraction if they decided to head that way. Speaking of distractions, she had been distracted from looking for things that she had possibly thrown around in the night. Shoes, socks... What course were they going to take...? Perhaps they could try to reach Cid in Rocket Town? Shorts, unmentionables... Where was the closest place to rest from here, anyway? Yuffie couldn't even remember; it'd been so long since her last visit. Shirt? Yes shirt, and armor too... Laying in the sun in Costa Del Sol would certainly be nice. Why hadn't she gone there instead? Passing through it to get to Nibelheim made her wish that she could stop, but for whatever reason she was strangely motivated to keep going. It definitely would have been better resting on the beach than in the cold, dewey grass during the night, though...
She waited-- seeming desperate for a moment-- in her shirt covered with dried, hardened blood, her shorts wrinkled from sleep, her shoes caked in mud from the trip to the mansion, her weapon clentched in one hand... "Do you see anything I'm missing?"
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Post by Vincent on Apr 10, 2010 13:15:26 GMT -5
It was truly a hard task to surprise Vincent Valentine of all people, as his constant observation usually meant he had a fairly good knowledge of what people would do. However, for the second time that day (and it was still morning) Yuffie had managed to do it, without even intending it. He thought that out of all the people he’d met since he rose from his slumber under the ShinRa mansion, Yuffie would be the easiest to predict, and yet her obvious change over the years showed through again, and he saw that there was so much of her that was unaware of.
Was that some sort of hollowness or sobriety in her voice? he thought, concerned.
The normally happy-go-lucky girl sounded different, her mood was clearly off and that could mean either that there was more going on in her head that he thought, or that she had cottoned on to his different attitude toward her, and he desperately hoped it was the former, especially as even he wasn’t exactly sure what this new sensation was. However, the cheery comment that followed it suggested that she was trying to hide something, and he made a mental note to ask her about it when they were on the road and in less of a hurry.
As Yuffie started to change, he made sure to look away, resisting a strange temptation to look despite how he knew it was wrong for him to want to. The gunman certainly didn’t want even more reason to gaze after the ninja longingly as he seemed to be doing recently. He absent-mindedly pulled out his gun, studying the clip and checking it was loaded – he knew it was, but it was a habit of his.
“We’ll be stocking up on general items like that. I was wondering if you needed anything...out of the ordinary” he replied, though he truly doubted whether she would need anything despite the essentials for the trip. Like him, she was used to traveling light, and so only the bare necessities would be needed, even for a trip that promised to be as long as theirs was. After all, they could always stock up in a town on the way.
He turned to face her, and raised one eyebrow at her awkward expression. Yuffie looked rather bizarre in her bloodied costume, but she seemed to have everything that was necessary for a journey (despite the aforementioned supplies). Though it was likely to rain at some point soon, he still wondered idly whether she would be comfortable traipsing the whole way there in attire that was covered in blood and mud, and looked somewhat less than fine.
“Do you need a new set of clothes?” he asked dryly, a hint of a smirk behind the comment, thinking of the small clothes shop that had recently opened in Nibelheim, as his ruby eyes looked over her bloodstained armor in question.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Apr 14, 2010 16:37:46 GMT -5
The ninja grinned as she studied the man. The opportunity was perfect. "Are you calling me fat?"
Her expression was that of amusement as she assessed the man from across the room with her bright eyes, though she tried her best to hide it. The situation, itself, made it hard to keep composed, though... He, after all, was Vincent Valentine. He didn't care whether she was 10 or 200 pounds. (The latter would make it hard for her to score some ripped beach guys just dying to talk to a babe like her, however, so she quickly forced the awful image out of her mind.)
Ripped beach-goers...? Please. How did she come up with that one, again? Yuffie scoffed a bit. Not that she wasn't a babe, of course, but it was starting to look like she'd never get any real vacation time unless she ran off again, which she wasn't about to do after that last inciden---JEEZE! Why did that have to keep coming up?!
It was a pain always having something on the mind. If it wasn't being eaten by gross zombies or her own internal troubles that probably didn't even mean more than a damn to anyone else, it was Vincent and his...handsoap. Or, at least it had been for the evening.
Why, though, was a question that she already knew she'd never be able to answer. She'd considered the man a good friend, if not from his good intentions than from the fact that they always seemed to be stuck together, but her constant state of tense that had been visible for the past mid-day and night was really starting to hurt her neck and shoulders...
Yuffie rubbed one of her eyes almost innocently (but the gesture, itself, stemmed from pure frustration), then shoved her free hand into her pocket.
"I guess you're right. I doubt people would want to see a battle-hardened warrior in bloodstained armor trudging through their yards at six or seven in the morning. What time is it, anyway?" The ninja chuckled, finally looking down at her ruined clothes. "Something makes me think that that would make a lotta mornings worse than they have to be." She paused for a moment, analyzing her last statement. "Uh, the 'bloodstained armor' thing, not the time." It was too early to talk. It was too early to think. It was too early to think..about talking.
Yuffie yawned, a slight, kiddish squeak escaping from her lips as she just remembered to hope she had a bit of cash to spare. It wouldn't be surprising if she didn't, but she hoped all the same.
"Wanna leave now? Or are you still thinking about it?" She smirked at the man as she stretched her arms to hear one of her shoulders crack. She stood for a moment intaking the light of the sun through the window, her spine curved inward, her chest and arms outstretched, like a cat poised to pounce (provided a cat could pounce in such a strange position.)
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Post by Vincent on May 7, 2010 11:22:23 GMT -5
A single eyebrow rose at the comment, and Vincent almost broke his stoic expression for a cocky smirk in reply to her question. Yet despite the levity of the situation, he chose to remain in his expressionless sobriety, fixing her with a level stare, his face a mask of emptiness. However, even the cold ex-Turk couldn’t keep a straight face when Yuffie was determined to lighten the mood, and he let his mouth form a slight smile as he tilted his head slightly, feigning exasperation with her. In truth her little quirks and manners were quite endearing, though he chose to appear exasperated with her, as it was an easier alternative than to encourage her and crack his reputation.
“No” he replied tactfully, seeing it as the best way he could respond to the question without giving the wily girl more ammunition to tease him with. It had been a lifetime since he’d been caught in the trap of that question, but even he knew the dangers of it. Luckily for him she was far from serious about it, and he knew that out of the women he knew she was probably the least likely to worry about something like that, and the amusement in her eyes was unmistakeable.
Happy for something to do despite stare awkwardly at her, he turned to the closet, his dark eyes searching vaguely for a clock or timepiece somewhere in the room. Vincent wondered if there was even a working clock or watch in the whole mansion, the place had been abandoned for decades, and neglect often tended to see things broken. Vincent himself had little need to know the time, and since his new life began all he had was time – time to relive the pains of his past, time to atone for his sins, and time to watch as everything around him withered and died, while he stayed on like a statue in an untended garden among the dying plants. Though the metaphor was dramatic he found it quite apt.
Shaking himself from his depressing thoughts, he merely turned back and shrugged, unaware of the time. He could probably guess from the position of the sun, but it seemed unimportant, as they weren’t on any sort of schedule.
Turning back to Yuffie, he was greeted with the site of her stretching, her arms above her head against the window, her body illuminated by the morning sun. Losing his breath from the moment, he let himself look, let himself relax and enjoy the sight of her, his body not tensing up or turning away, and a strange idea came into his mind, a notion and a feeling that he had repressed since the night he had been shot and left for dead in the basement of the very mansion where they stood. He needed fresh air, he needed to breathe and calm himself, and he stepped a few steps away, trying to make his steps look natural and planned. Outside in the hallway he stopped mere inches from the frame, stopping his wandering mind and keeping control – he could ponder and contemplate later, right now they needed to get going.
“We leave as soon as possible. Are you ready?” he asked over his shoulder, barely remembering her last few comments and hoping that she didn’t notice his moment of weakness.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Jul 8, 2010 22:36:45 GMT -5
She let her arms fall limply to her sides at the sound of the man's reply. They felt suddenly overworked and burdened by exhaustion, and the warmth of the morning sun embracing her did nothing to quell the pain in her suddenly aching joints. Perhaps in her tense state she was unable to read her own energy levels? The experience was new, but she'd grown to expect not being able to expect things-- especially in Vincent's company.
The fact in itself still didn't explain the stiff, almost anxious nature that her body took in his presence, however. There had been the occasional mishap or two in the past that had made every muscle in her body almost completely inflexible at the all-your-fault point-- 'your,' of course, usually being referred to Yuffie, herself--but they hadn't even had a petty disagreement since she'd ventured into his evil lair.
She didn't even have a slight desire to fight with the man. Although she gathered that it would probably make traveling a lot easier without their bickering, she found herself more depressed at the thought than relieved. Had she really lost that much of her fighting spirit? When did it finally decide to leave? Why didn't it say goodbye...?
She gazed out the window blankly, scanning the ground far below her as if expecting it to change before her eyes.
I always run away. She watched people come out of their houses to greet the day; watched lights come on in windows. She could feel the breeze from candles being blow out as if she were a helpless flame. From her perch next to the window, she could even see the mountains. They seemed years away, blocked by fog, and monsters, and every other thing that she could dream of.
And speaking of dreams... What the hell was really up with the one she had...?
She shrugged slightly, her spine now tingling with the freezing air of the room. It was hard to believe that she hadn't noticed it before, but she was tired. Tired of standing. Of being. Of thinking, most of all.
Both of Yuffie's elbows cracked as she moved them up to hug her shoulders, an unconscious action that she'd performed for warmth since she was very small.
"It's frikkin' FREEZING in here." She backed away from the window a few steps. Her voice was not quite as upbeat as usual, but nothing intolerable or offensive could be heard in the echo of her tone. For anyone other than the god of cold weather, that was. She told herself that if she ever met him, she'd pop him in the face a couple good times. That would teach him to mind his weather manners whenever scrawny ninjas in low-climate places were in need of warmth.
She shook her head with a small sigh. Now she was just desperate.
Finally, she turned toward the man, her legs creaking in protest. Her knees had been locked in place for so long that she couldn't even feel them anymore.
"Let's get the hell outta here before Reeve sends his entire fleet after us." She looked at the man for a moment as she walked forward, desperately hoping that she'd somehow avoid the trap that his eyes seemed to set.
There was something different about him, that was sure, but just before it seemed to want uncover itself in her mind, her muscles would react and stiffen, like a natural defense to help her escape. But from what? All it was doing now was making it harder and harder to concentrate.
By the hour, it seemed the sight of him encompassed more and more of her vision, and even as she made her way through the doorway, she could still see every lock of his hair. It was plastered to her brain like a photograph by a clean, sharpened nail.
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Post by Vincent on Jul 21, 2010 13:40:41 GMT -5
Blood red eyes stared vacantly at the hardwood floors in the hallway, Vincent’s mind lost in thoughts and memories. The topics currently running through his mind weren’t the usual morbid musings on his past and his atonement; instead he was struggling to recall something that had been lost to him for months. Since he had secluded himself away in the mansion, he had been without something vital, something significant to his being, and he realised now that what he had been missing was direction. After his return from slumber, this new life of his had been one of purpose, and possibly destiny, and yet now that Sephiroth, his remnants and Deep-ground had all been dealt with, the planet knew peace, something that Vincent was left without. The usual social and occupational ties that gave someone an identity and a place within the world were lost to him, and so without an appropriate goal, he was lost. It almost shamed the gunman to admit that he almost welcomed the idea of trouble in such a time of tranquility.
The exclamation from the presumably cranky ninja brought half a smile to him, and he anchored himself back to reality and the present, pleased for a task to keep him from his own subconscious. His psyche had a habit of pulling him into depression and Yuffie had always strangely been able to pull him from his reverie, often without even trying to.
Vincent turned to face the young woman; a curt nod to her was the only response he would give, yet he was sure she would understand it as compliance, as agreement. Chaos had left him after returning to the world, once again waiting for it’s time to awaken mighty Omega to usher in the apocalypse. Since that time, he had begun to develop slightly more socially, but was still had the same wisdom and cynicism that was a stark contrast to his youthful appearance.
Walking through the halls of the mansion, he felt grey eyes on the back of his head, and knew Yuffie was as confused with their change in dynamic as he was – the awkwardness and lack of argument was difficult to adjust to, and Vincent only now started to suspect what was the cause of this shift. More surprising was the fact that it was no longer so easy to block her out or to keep his stoicism in the face of her teasing, and as much as he wanted to chalk it up to the lack of other people around, he had to start facing facts. As they approached the door, he narrowed his eyes at the sunshine, used to travelling during the day, he had a peculiar admiration for sunshine, despite his somewhat aversion to it.
Leaving the mansion and his comfort zone, thoughts of their mission entered his mind, and the sense of urgency increased – Reeve must be informed of what happened with the lost number!
“Here we go again”
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on May 25, 2011 11:11:44 GMT -5
((Clloud, and anyone from the other role play, I'm going to do the 'call Tifa' scene, but I want to at least get a change of clothes first. lol ))
Yuffie kept close to the man as they made their way down the hallway and carefully strolled down the long stairway. The cold was everywhere, enveloping her in icy fingertips, but it wasn't the temperature that finally made her shiver, though she was positive it didn't help--the sight of the blood on the floor from the battle yesterday---the thought of her comrade's gaping, gory wound... As they neared the first floor of the mansion, and the sight of the scene grew ever-nearer, the young ninja found herself squinting, trying her hardest to block it from her vision, moving ever-closer to the gunman, hoping he would hurry.
As Vincent slowly swung the front door open, Yuffie pressed herself against his back, trying desperately to escape her thoughts. "Come on, come on! Let's get a move-on!" Her voice cracked a little, despite her effort to cover it up with impatience.
Over and over she saw the Lost Number, heard the squish and tear of flesh... She shuddered finally, trying her hardest to block everything out. Vincent's cloak protected her from the crisp morning breeze and she felt twenty degrees warmer just being behind him-- she hoped he didn't feel her shiver as she pushed him out the door.
As the sunshine hit her face, she felt almost instantaneous relief--the pain in her chest quickly faded, as did her thoughts of yesterday. It was good to finally get out of that stuffy mansion. Forgetting her previous despair entirely, she smiled widely, her eyes bright and content. "Time to stock up, yeah? What kinda shops do they have here, anyway?"
She'd also apparently forgotten that she was standing so close to the man. She remained where she was, smiling as she watched the people, some of the closer ones pointing and staring, horrified, at her blood-covered articles of clothing.
Jeeze, Vincey isn't that scary... Not at all. She continued to look around, eyeballing the glare that the sun left on the shop windows that were within distance to see.
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Post by Cloud Strife on Jun 3, 2011 7:57:49 GMT -5
(Since my previously opened thread is dead pending creative explosion to write out a fantastic dream sequence that explains the opening of this post, I assume it would be easier on all of us if I simply toss Cloud's presence in Nibelheim into this thread rather than constantly responding to you two in the other just because I started off there. XD)
Grunting slightly in discomfort as he sat up and looked out the window, the young blonde-haired mercenary couldn't help but reflect on what had happened to him the night before. What he'd dreamed, he asserted firmly in his own mind. Rising to his feet to snap the curtain shut, Cloud closed his light-sensitive colorful eyes to try and block out his pounding headache. He almost felt like he hadn't slept at all last night, despite knowing he must have. After all, nothing that was already fading from his memory could have truly occurred. Besides, how else would he have woken up if he'd not rested at some point? Grimacing at a particularly painful stretch and throb, he amended his thought process to "slept" instead of "rested".
After a quick, cold shower to ease the tension in his overdrawn muscles and clear the dried sweat of a nightmare passed from his skin, Cloud stepped back into his room feeling at least somewhat more refreshed. After a few minutes to allow his sodden hair to dry enough to be styled, he slipped into his day's attire and went about the long and costly process of creating his ever-recognizable 'do. Sometimes he wondered why he went about ensuring that it remained in such a messy state, considering the time and effort it took. Other times he thought it better not to even try to broach that subject, as it would only bring up bad memories and make him question why black dye wasn't a part of the routine as well, a road he wasn't psychologically prepared to travel down just yet.
Satisfied that he was as vainly fulfilled as he was going to get without pushing the boundaries of obsessive, the mercenary gathered his things and ensured that the room was in decent condition so no one would be cursing him as they cleaned it for the next guest. His footfalls seemed oddly heavy as he moved down the stairwell, as though his coming here had somehow triggered a deeper sense of dissatisfaction with himself rather than the peace he was seeking. He barely had the presence of mind to thank the innkeeper for the room and meal the previous night while saying his farewell, stepping outside and squinting once more into the bright morning sunlight. Though he glanced to his bike in consideration of simply getting the hell out of town while he still had the presence of mind to do so, Cloud never took a step toward it.
Instead, the blonde haired mercenary felt compelled to take one last look around town. Something told him it would be a long time before he would see his home town again, and he wanted to keep its memory fresh in his mind. Maybe the recency of the visit would help to block out the past when he thought of this place, though in his heart he knew this was fruitlessly wishful thinking. Keeping this hope in mind all the same, the young man stuck his hands into his pockets and moved to do some window shopping for better times, walking slowly down the street and glancing into store and home windows alike as he went, never keeping any true aim or direction to his walk.
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