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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 15, 2010 17:55:42 GMT -5
She looked up at him once more, a slight smile still gracing her smallish facial features. He was...so ghostly. His skin was so very white. That was a fact that she knew, but...not quite this well. She'd never actually been this close to Vincent before. From this angle, it looked atmost like she was seeing right through him. The last light of the day was creeping out of the windows, making his hair seem like yet another cover---a soft, glossy, black hood. She continued to watch him as they began their trek toward the stairs; his eyes showed no signs of pain. She wondered if they would, even if it did hurt him to move.
Their gaze locked after a moment, but Yuffie found herself unable to turn away for what seemed like a long time. She was captivated by the crimson orbs that were his eyes. This seemed to be happening a lot lately... Maybe it was just how valuable they looked? Just like discolored rubies. Yuffie didn't like to think she was really that greedy...but the fact that they were looking down at her just as she was looking up made her feel very at ease.
Though the ninja would never admit to thinking it, the gems were hers for the moment.
Even if she couldn't steal them away forever, she genuinely treasured their attention as he thanked her.
"Anytime, Vinny," she replied almost unconsciously under her breath as she finally focused her own attention on the ground that they had left to cover. She wasn't sure if the man had heard her, but she was too concentrated on making the remaining steps to the mountain of stairs as painless as possible to worry about repeating herself.
Once finally across the floor, the ninja stopped and eyeballed the stairs carefully, taking special care to glare at the very first one, as it would be the most difficult. Gawd...This isn't gonna be fun... I dunno if I'll be able to do this without making the wound worse.. She looked up at Vincent again as he groaned; he seemed to be dreading this just as much as she was trying not to. "Hope you're ready, Vin," she paused for a moment. "This staircase isn't getting any shorter." ...As much as I'm sure we both wish it would, she added in her head.
She had one arm around his waist, and the other supporting his claw around her shoulders so as to keep it from cutting her...that was going to have to change if she wanted to make it up that wretched staircase, though. Awkwardly, she moved her arm from his claw and positioned her body as if she were hugging him, attempting to keep him stable. Her free arm quickly wrapped around the bottom of his chest and tightly gripped his shirt on the other side. Perhaps she was being too cautious, but it was always better safe than sorry when it came to being impaled through the stomach by a vicious zombie-beast--at least it was in her mind.
"Grab the railing with this hand," she motioned to the gauntet with her head, again taking special care to avoid calling it anything but what it was. "And..."
This next part was going to be weird. Really, super weird. MEGA weird.
"Put your other arm here, so I can at least try to catch you if you start to fall.." It was a very unlikely event--so unlikely that it almost seemed impossible... But in Vincent's state, neither of them could afford anything happening. She moved her arm for just a moment, to grab his human hand and place it around her waist, stepping onto the first step with one of her feet as she did so. It was a crafty manuever to brace oneself in, but it certainly worked to keep him stable for at least the moment. I'm sorry, Vincent... Just endure this for a few minutes, then you'll be good to rest... I just don't want you to fall---you'll take me out with you... She didn't look at the man---only over his shoulder, as her head rested against it.
She waited, warm and braced, for Vincent to take his step.
The sooner they could get this over with, the better she thought for her companion.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 15, 2010 19:35:34 GMT -5
As Yuffie continued to help him walk over the blood-stained floor of the giant mansion, he couldn’t help but catch her eye again, though this time he held her gaze, unable to look away immediately. However, her quiet response and the fact that they had arrived at the foot of the stairs took his focus, and he looked up at the stairs, they seemed like a mountain laid out before him.
Aw hell he thought, rather uncharacteristically.
Testing his side slightly by moving the leg underneath it, he noticed he’d started to regain feeling in it and probably wouldn’t need as much help as he he’d been having, but he would still need the ninja and her surprising competence in shifting his body. Though Vincent was quite light naturally, he imagined his cumbersome attire, as well as the metal boots and gauntlet made him quite heavy, even for her great strength.
Vincent did as she told, grabbing the railing while keeping his face as straight as possible – he barely sensed the pain, only feeling a dull throb where the wound was, but as he was focused on ascending the stairs at the time, his mind was too concentrated to take note of the monotonous ache.
Taking each step one at a time, he slowly made his way up the stairs, observing the paintings on the wall as he did, for some reason he knew if he looked at Yuffie again he might catch her gaze once more and lose focus – which could end badly for the very prone pair walking up the steep staircase.
“I’m staying at the room at the end, just dump me in there” he told her as they neared the top. Vincent had chose to abandon the basement this time – though he still burned with the same guilt and pain, he had at least had the strength to stay away from the place of his re-birth, forsaking the cursed place and allowing himself some small human comforts.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 15, 2010 22:06:55 GMT -5
Yuffie briefly paused at the realization that Vincent was forcing her to stay in a room of the creepy manor alone. Okay, well, maybe forcing was a bit of a stretch. But still, Yuffie wasn't fond of the idea in the least She'd already been almost eaten by a zombie-monster in the daytime...did he really want some awful creature to drag her away to its evil lair at night? Afterall, Leviathan knew what other horrors lurked within the very walls of the place if such a huge beast could reside here under Vincent''s nose for so long... Great. If she kept this up, she'd be having nightmares until early in the morning. Provided she got any sleep at all, that is.
"At the...end?" Yuffie stared down the hall for a moment, suddenly no longer looking forward to parting ways with the man for even a small amount of time if it meant being alone in the mansion. Yuffie hadn't liked it from the start. Being alone in it, in the dark, with Vincent injured by one of its (possibly many) other inhabitants was pushing the entire idea of being inside the horrid place at all to its extreme limits.
She walked slowly, still clinging to Vincent, but now for a mix of his support and hers.
Maybe he'll let me stay in his room if I promise not to make any noise... I can do that! Still, she said nothing more as every step brought them closer to the room that Vincent had designated she leave him in. She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone; it may have been her fear of the manor kicking in again, but as they finally got into the room and she helped him prop himself up on a dusty couch, she'd managed a good look at the blood and it made her feel queasy.
"Well, here you go," she could feel the ice in the air again, which made her shiver viciously as it stabbed through her skin like a thousand needles. Still she didn't mention her fear. Her eyes darted anxiously toward the door as the man seemed to settle in to rest. "Where do you want me to go...?" Yuffie's eyes didn't move---as if she was either expecting the doorway to do a trick, or something else to come through it at any moment.
She gripped her elbows tightly as she sat on the edge of the old piece of furniture. Hopefully, wherever he sent her, there would at least be a tablecloth to hide under.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 16, 2010 18:21:58 GMT -5
(OOC: Sorry if it's a little short, got a bit of a block, ) -- A long sigh escaped the Vincent as Yuffie guided him onto the dusty couch, the springs squeaking in protest at its usage after such a long time of rest. The gunman continued to survey her with his startling eyes, watching as she shivered in the cold of the night – he didn’t tend to feel the cold as others did, and he knew she wasn’t acclimatised to the almost uninhabitable mansion as he was. “ Well, there’s a shower a couple of rooms along if you want to use it” he mentioned, seeing her bloodstained clothes. He figured he’d clean himself up in the morning before she got up, after he’d rested enough to return to full function. The idea of asking Yuffie to help him stand in the shower was rather unthinkable, and even the thought made his pale face blush ever so slightly. “ You can stay where you like” he stated, slightly bluntly, but he knew she was used to his minimal use of words. Vincent rarely slept, and thought it was as essential for him as it was for anyone else, his sleep would often bring to life the darker thoughts that inhabited his crowded mind. Luckily the mansion didn’t affect him as it used to – during his 30 year slumber in the basement he had relived his memories in an eternity of pain before the arrival of Cloud and the others. Vincent had always slept more peacefully when friends were around (a fact he’d never tell anyone), and he was glad that Yuffie was staying the night, even if she wasn’t.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 16, 2010 22:01:33 GMT -5
((It's cool, I understand. I've had to sit for a few hours and FORCE myself to write a few times. lol As for this post, I'm sorry it took so long. I got interrupted for about an hour by a phone call. Also, for RP purposes, I'm modifying the mansion a bit.))
At the mention of her stained shirt, Yuffie glanced down. Sure enough, the grey was tainted by rather large splotches of Vincent's drying blood. A shower seemed heavenly compared to this awful temperature---provided hot water still existed in the place... She stared at it for a moment, not moving from the man or responding to him. Suddenly, she realized that taking a shower would cleanse her body of the muck from the day, but not her clothes... It would make her feel better for a little bit, but she feared being even more cold afterward. She could attempt to wash her shirt, but there was no way it would dry overnight in this piercing...cold-ness.
Carefully considering both sides of the situation, Yuffie leaned forward to look out the window. It was not yet dark, but the night was most definitely coming--and soon. Whether or not she was clean, the mansion wouldn't be any less creepy, or any more warm. Whether or not she was wet or dry, she was still going to be shivering if she didn't have something to cover her. Perhaps though old and dusty, a bathroom of some sort would be a prime place to find whatever she needed.
"All right." She could have said so much more, but that was everything that she'd considered summed up in two words. "Taking a shower isn't going to make the bloodstains go away," she motioned to her shirt, and then to Vincent's; as black as it was, she could still see shimmers in it that definitely weren't there before. "...But I'm freezing my ass off." She stood up and stretched, feeling the icy air shoot through her her exposed stomach as she did so. She didn't have the energy or confidence in having a safe night in the mansion to argue or suggest a different plan. She glared through the doorway as she spoke, a tired, but otherwise blank expression upon her face
Yuffie scoffed, obviously not looking forward to trudging through the mansion, yet moving robotically toward the doorway nonetheless. "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone." Her comment had implied a joke, yet her voice and expression did nothing to convey it to the gunman. "I'll try to avoid being attacked by any dead things I may come across. I bet it'd be smart to do the same." She gave a slight wave as she made her way through the open doorway, but she didn't turn around.
A few feet away from the room in the dimly lit hallway seemed very much like a couple of miles, yet Yuffie was still trying her best to creep away from the safety of Vincent's room. Her footsteps were completely silent, as she knew a creaking floorboard just by looking at it, yet they echoed like clanging pots and pans in her own ears. She was making so much noise that she could... Wake the dead... She almost scoffed again, but caught herself from fear of being discovered by whatever creatures may or may not have lurking around those same hallways.
Yuffie stopped. She'd unconsciously skipped two doorways without even meaning to. Damn trances! She looked ahead--there were three more ahead. She looked behind---she'd covered three more than she thought she would: Vincent's room, and the two doors that she'd walked right by. That was progress if ever she'd seen it. Feeling a little bad for walking right by the other doors, she brought enough courage to approach the closest one and open it with a false bravado. It was...a broom closet!
Inside the tiny area lay an old, rusty bucket, a long-dead rat (to which Yuffie almost jumped back ten feet), and... a worn, dusty broom! (Gee, whod've 'thunk?) Shit! Yuffie almost smacked herself in the face from exasperation. She'd left Oritsuru in the room with Vincent! In that moment, she was positive that walking around unarmed in the ShinRa mansion was the stupidest thing that she would ever do. Being too prideful to go back, and knowing that if she did she wouldn't dare venture back out of his room again, she eyeballed the rat and slowly approached the closet to quickly snatch the broom and shut the door.
One had to be the enemy to understand and conquer the enemy.
She was no longer Yuffie. Now, she was Yuffie with a dusty, cobweb-infested broom.
There were two doors left, and she wasn't getting any more or less inconspicuous. It was now or never.
The first was an empty room with e window in the very far wall with a lovely view of Nibelheim. Not exactly what she was looking for. The very last door in the hall had a very ornate doorknob. A good sign for a bit less terrifying room. She squinted her eyes and slowly turned the knob, clentching the old wooden broom so hard that her palm had begun to sweat a bit, despite the mansion's freezing temperature.
The marble floor was dusty and far from slick as was normal, but the room itself, though obviously neglected due to the absence of caretakers, was lavish. Large, and...lavish. She saw cabinets against one of the walls, hoping they had at least a few secrets to offer in the manner of good health. Seeking safety from the hall, she quickly flicked the lightswitch, closed the door, then sank against it at the welcome sight of a more relaxing place. The shower that Vincent had mentioned doubled as a bathtub, and though the curtain was coming apart at the seams it would do more than well enough to shade her from the cold air... A small amount of light from the worn bulb finally began to filter through the room as the young ninja took everything in.
Without realizing it, she'd gotten up and found her way across the floor and to the cabinets. Two out of three of them were empty, but the third held a larger amount of things than she'd have ever expected. Five towels sat awkwardly stacked on top of each other, as if folded in a hurry. Three were obviously larger, though very old and a bit ragged, but the other two looked nearly brand new. Eyeing larger against softer, Yuffie was desperate for something to cover her. Gredily, she wanted to take them all, but that just couldn't be the case... She carefully took hold of one of the older ones, surprisingly, and shook it loose from its home. Anything that resembled more of a blanket was what she wanted, and the old rag was surprisingly thick.
Before even approaching the shower she doubted there would be any hot water if no heat seemed to exist within the entire reaches of the mansion. But even through her doubt, she turned the fanciful knobs of the larger-than-expected tub and adjusted them as she would a modern shower, paying special attention to drain whatever heat was possible by turning the left knob until it would no longer move.
She stared at the running water blankly as it viciously ran from the faucet as a very distinct shade of brown. Rust; she wasn't surprised. Her mind strayed to everything but the water in that moment. She thought of Cloud and Tifa, and the nasty words that Cid had taught her (unbeknownest to him), and how Reeve would freak out if she didn't report soon, and of nearly getting flattened, and of Vincent resting wounded on a couch five doors away. Her throat suddenly felt sore, and her chest felt heavy; it was hard to breathe.
She unbuckled the braces on her arm and unlatched the armor across her chest, not even hearing the lound clank as they hit the floor. She'd left the broom against the wall, and was now clinging to the towel for dear existence, concentrating hard on an awful feeling that had managed to quickly overcome her. She pulled her shirt over her head as she pushed the curtain aside, feeling shards of ice prick her skin and stab through her chest, only adding to her breathlessness. Yuffie didn't even acknowledge her former doubt when a cloud of steam brushed across her face.
She slipped out of her remaining clothes and threw them aside, not yet making a move to step in. She felt chained in place, slowly dying from a mix of hypothermia and old memories. Would anything ever really be the same...? She hadn't seen anyone in more time it'd been since she'd seen Vincent, and she'd only just found him. She couldn't decide if it was lonliness or the air that was freezing her veins. She felt...stupid? Maybe insecure was more the word she was looking for...
Yuffie Kisaragi: loud, obnoxious, jerk that would prefer to steal your stuff than be your friend....It just didn't make any sense. She'd felt alone so many times after leaving the group--maybe that was why she so readily joined Reeve. But admitting it, even to herself, made her feel more like 10 than 20...
She stepped into the shower and was hit hard with a blast of water so hot that it seemed to melt her flesh. It stung her limbs to move, yet she sank to the floor of the tub in an attempt to escape it, holding her head and feeling the acidic water wash over her legs. In just a moment, her body and hair were completely soaked, burning through to her aching muscles and bones. She pressed her head to her knees and curled into a ball while sitting up, her hair draped over her arms and shoulders as she took the heat of the water on her back. It left large red splotches wherever it touched, though as much pain as she was in, she refused to move.
The steam made her eyes water as her mind continued to race. She wanted to get away from everything---the mansion, the feeling, the world---and curled into a ball of herself, she could.
She didn't even realize that she was crying; only that she felt awful. Tired, sick, and awful.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 19, 2010 11:28:16 GMT -5
Vincent’s scarlet eyes viewed his clothes with slight distaste, the dark patches of blood standing out against the bright red of his tattered cloak, the sunset illuminating where it had bled down his side. He looked up and out of the only window in the room to see the horizon bathed in an orange glow as the sun shone for the last minutes of the day, a signal to the land that night was fast approaching. He was usually more at ease in the night – darkness and silence were comforts to him, but even he appreciated the warmth and hope that daylight could bring.
The gunman nodded to Yuffie as she mentioned her clothes being stained, but was more concentrated on his own efforts, which were being directed toward standing up. Slowly he rose to his feet, testing the pressure on his body – the pain would shoot up his torso when he put pressure on his foot (the right one, under where he had been wounded). Briefly considering getting a walking stick or a crutch, he decided against it, both because he wouldn’t need it by morning, but also as it would make his already outlandish appearance that much more bizarre.
Yuffie’s parting comment made him chuckle, and he waved back at her as she left the room in search of the shower (he wasn’t too sure if it still worked, to be honest). As she left, he allowed himself to show the pain he’d been hiding, wincing as he grasped at the arm of the couch for support, his legs unable to support him well for some reason. The stoic marksman slid off his cape, unbuckling the cowl around his neck that hid the lower half of his face, and then took off the black undershirt and letting them fall to the ground messily. A fair torso was exposed, pale skin pulled taut over muscles. Though thin, lean muscles showed Vincent’s physical prowess, his abs evident under the pale chest, untouched by the blood covering his legs and lower stomach. Vincent inspected the wound, it was messy and dark blood trickled from it, running down his legs and dripping onto his golden boots, marring the shiny surface. The most disconcerting part was the white stripe visible – part of his ribcage exposed where the monster had almost impaled him through the chest.
Thank the planet for small favours he thought wryly.
Vincent replaced the attire carefully, minus the cumbersome cloak, as he turned towards the bed in the corner of the old-fashioned room, looking as unused as the rest of the house. He was eager to heal the wound, as such weakness made Vincent feel uneasy. However, he almost enjoyed the sensitive feeling, and realized suddenly that this sense of exposure reminded him of his humanity, the fact that he had limits and could be hurt – that he wasn’t just a monster with a human face. This gave him a small sense of comfort, though he would no doubt later chastise himself for this display of weakness.
About to sleep, he stopped in his tracks, his ears, always so attuned picked up an odd sound for the morbid mansion. Even through the sound of rushing water, he swore he heard a sob from the bathroom a few doors down and was unsure of what to do. Usually, Vincent (a loner by nature) would dismiss it, certain that others were as independent as him, but Yuffie’s help today, as well as her presence reminding him of how much he treasured those close to him meant he couldn’t desert her.
Aware of how uncharacteristic his actions were, he limped slowly down the hall, clinging to the wall for support as he approached the bathroom door. Stopping in front of it, he hesitated, his gloved hand hovering inches from the wooden surface.
Don’t be mad at me for this he thought as he knocked twice, his voice carrying through the door through the spray of the rusty water.
“Yuffie.....are you alright?” he asked, concern in his tone as he waited for an answer. He hoped she would be honest with him, but he fully expected her cheery voice to ring out, a brave front to hide the rare show of weakness – perhaps they weren’t so different after all.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 19, 2010 12:53:33 GMT -5
After a few moments of staining her back with a million tiny clawmarks, the water's heat subsided slightly. Either she had finally gotten used to the unstoppable, scorching pain, or the water was getting colder. She bet it was the second one, which meant that she didn't have much time left. The sour smell of rust lingered everywhere; even wrapped into a ball, she could still smell nothing else. It was a bad idea, she'd finally decided, to do this. But too greedy to refuse the heat, she just couldn't resist.
Her entire body tingled, as if chilled by the sudden amount of warmth surrounding it. It was a heated...numbness. Though she could feel the heat all around her, the entire outside of her body was numb. She poked her head up from her knees, finally noticing how puffy her eyes felt. As she moved, her soaked hair fell across her face in hot strands. Why was it so hard to breathe...?
The steam was thick, and heavy, and as she tried to force it down her throat, she found it trying to escape her. There was pain. A pain so immense rising in her chest, that she felt as if she was going to explode.
Finally desperate, she forced her head out from behind the curtain and into the freezing air of the room gasping, and choking, and...why were her eyes all wet? She rubbed them frantically, trying to stop the tears.
Two knocks abruptly reverberated throughout the room.
Great! Just great! Something had heard her, and was now out to get her in her moment of weakness---she was a slight emotional wreck, without clothes, and was completely unarmed save for an old broom! She could once again feel the ice stab into her skin as she sat, stupefied and in great need of an idea of what to do. And to top it all off, the tears remained.
The voice didn't register to her until a few seconds later.
It was soft, deep, and flowing to her even despite the racket from the water.
Vincent?! "Vi--Vin---Vincent?!" Her voice almost broke, but she was quick enough to studder before it could. It seemed like she was screaming over the shower. What the hell is he doing here?! "Wh--What the hell are you doing here?!" Anger peaked in her voice for a split second; who the hell did he think he was, just walking around with a hole in his stomach?!
She used one of her feet to turn off the water, lingering in silence for a moment, deciding between surpressing her anger and putting a shell forward as she grappled for the towel on the floor beside her. The tears had finally stopped, but she pressed her face into the towel anyway, still calculating a reply.
She stood, still soaking wet, and wrapped the towel around her. It barely hung to her knees, but provided a decent blanket for what it covered. Her hair hung to the nape of her neck and nearly over one of her eyes. In response, she carelesly flung it out of the way, making it spike to the side a bit.
Without even thinking, she made her way completely into the icy air and approached the door, listening for the man's ragged breathing for a few seconds before deciding what to do.
Yuffie gingerly opened the door and stuck half of her upper body into the hallway to face the man. She wasn't expecting him to be so close... Apparently, she had gotten taller, since she was now staring him right in the eye, their noses a few inches apart.Any traces of anger that were apparent in her last reply were no longer evident in her eyes as she stared up at him. The man was slumped against the side of the door with the knob on it. In his slouched position, probably because of the pain, it was easy to nearly match his height.
She did not falter in her stance, despite the lack of distance between them.
"I want to stay in your room tonight," was all she said. Her eyes were a bit swollen, her hair was a mess, and her tone was serious. She looked a bit ridiculous in an adult sense, but something scruffy that couldn't be taken seriously in any other way.
She studied the man's nose for a moment, finally deciding that something was different. It was a piece of him that was not often seen, yet she was looking at it. It was right there. And so was the rest of his face. If not for her former stubborn demand, she would have been taken aback by the sight of it. His face was long and smooth---he wasn't wearing his cloak! Finally getting a clear picture of him, she noticed just how muscular his frame really was. His shoulders, no longer bogged down by more cloth, were still strong, his complexion was even more pale with only the black to complement it, and surprisingly...his eyes were even more red.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 20, 2010 9:54:00 GMT -5
This close to the door, Vincent’s ears picked up the ragged breathing and the commotion from inside and his worry increased as he hovered outside the door. His usually stern posture was gone as he slumped forward against the door-frame weakly. A small part of him urged to get inside and to Yuffie, an unnatural concern for her well-being becoming apparent to him quickly. Confusion struck his exhausted mind, and he listened to the spluttering noises coming from the bathroom as he waited for a response from the ninja, hoping she wouldn’t be mad, but he was about to be thoroughly disappointed.
The anger in her young voice shocked him into motion, and he turned his face away, bracing the wall again as he moved to leave. The gunman cursed himself silently – why did he choose to nose into her business? For a long time he had tried to remain detached from people, he had been called cold and distant, but he never thought he would have been in this situation, scolded for interfering where he wasn’t wanted or needed.
It’s not my place to comfort people.....I should have known that he reminded himself, wondering if she would have opened up more to the other members of their group – Tifa was always the best with dealing with emotions.
Vincent wanted to get rest, and hoped that this would be forgotten and they could make their way to Reeve and the WRO in the morning, erasing this moment of embarrassment on his part from existence. The whole night had been filled with turmoil and discomfort and he had to wonder if it was the mansion’s destiny to bring pain and suffering to those who filled its halls – truly it must be cursed.
When he heard the doorknob turn, he spun (the effect was less dramatic with the absence of his cloak) back to the door, his gaze fixed on the wooden surface in front of him. Concern was etched onto his pale features as the door slid open and Yuffie’s upper half appeared in front of him. The silent man realised how close they were, but against his better judgement he stayed where he was, transfixed as his eyes locked with hers yet again. Vincent’s ears filled with a thudding noise, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was his heartbeat thundering in his chest. Usually his heartbeat was slow and quiet, both due to his calmness (even in the face of danger), and possibly because of some residual side-effect from the experiments performed on him all those years ago. It shocked him to feel it so strongly – he had always pictured his heart as a black stone, but now he found it responded to life as readily as anyone else’s.
Listening to her words carefully, he took in her disheveled state – swollen eyes (probably from crying, over what he couldn’t imagine), and messy half-dried hair, but her determined look, and the steadiness of her tone stunned him into a split-second silence – even his overcrowded mind stopped buzzing for a second. He could only nod, unable to deny her, especially after the day’s chaotic events.
“Yeah....OK” was all he managed to say, still leaning against the wall for support. Part of his mind screamed at him to leave, to go back to the room and wallow in his despair, but he found he was unable to move, and even more oddly, a small accepting smile had come onto his face despite the sombreness of the situation. He silently prayed that she would have the strength to move away (after all, she still had to dry and dress herself), the kind of willpower that had deserted him for the first time in a very long while.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 20, 2010 15:24:31 GMT -5
They stared at each other for a while, seemingly tracing the image of the other onto a blank canvas in their minds. At least...that was Yuffie's excuse. The man looked so different without his cloak. It was a...a good difference, but a defining one. Upon further inspection, his black shirt was messily tucked back into its place, as if it had been thrown back on in a hurry. A few of the buttons had even been neglected to be buttoned as they were, exposing a much more generous portion of the man's chest than would ever be thought of.
Gawd, he sure is pale... The collar of his shirt was slung delicately to the sides of his neck in a disorderly fashion. Even in his slouched position the man's shoulders were straight; they seemed to dominate the rest of his upper body. She stole a glance at her own shoulders; they were naturally slumped, and quite pale despite her voyages through sun and the outdoors. She was shades darker than Vincent, of course, but he was practically a ghost... She eyed the skin on her arms for a bit. She'd never actually realized her distinct lack of a tan before now. To be honest, the only color that she had was due to her Wutainese origins. Huh...I guess I really can't say anything about Vincent being pale... It looks like I haven't gone outside for a few years. Had she always been like this? Her shoulders were small, her neck incredibly thin, her hair...currently terrible-looking.
Yuffie checked his flawless face once again---an unconscious maneuver to her now---and was almost shocked.
The man looked incredibly hurt for a moment...but not from the wound. Well, maybe describing it painfully didn't quite do it justice... He looked confused. A sort of confusion that paralyzes those affected with it by...well, confusion. There was no other way to really describe it. Vincent looked as if his mind was being poked and prodded with a very large stick. And.. Was that a...smile?
Yuffie gazed at his lips in near disbelief. It was faint and would be completely unseen to anyone that didn't know Vincent...
All right, so she was being dramatic. It was right there, plain to see. So visible, in fact, that she blinked a few times to make sure that she wasn't actually seeing some sort of strange illusion. But even then...why would she really imagine Vincent smiling? Even the notion was silly.
Her eyes were bright and full of a childish wonder as she stared at him, and soon her own smile crept across her cheeks .
"Thanks, Vinny," Yuffie said softly as her smile widened slightly.
She took in his frame again, tracing every detail that made him up with her pupils. He looked good. Very good. Especially with a smile. (Minus the hole in his stomach, that is.) Such a thing had always been unheard of to the ninja, but having witnessed many incredible things in her life, it wasn't really that hard to believe anymore. She chuckled a little---just long enough for her to realize that she was still soaking wet and without clothes.
Shit! "Aagh! Wait for me!" She clung fast to the towel and motioned to the man with her other hand, pointing a menacing finger at him. "Don't go anywhere! Just hang on!" Her face was absolutely priceless, so frantic, and desperate, and demanding over such a silly thing. Yuffie eyeballed the man ominously before she slipped back into the room, so hurried that she completely forgot to close the door. It hung where she'd left it, a small security breach into her safety blanket of a room. Just behind it, Yuffie was throwing her clothes on piece by piece under the towel still carefully wrapped around her slender body. Undergarments, socks, shoes...no, shorts first, then shoes! Stupid! Shirt...? She held her shirt before her, glaring at it a bit. The blood was mostly dry, but there was so much of it...and in this cold weather... Yuffie scoffed. There was no getting around the fact that it just wasn't dry.
Aha! I have an idea! She unwrapped the towel and threw it around her shoulders like a blanket. Holding it with one hand, she scurried across the floor and back to the cabinet. Gingerly, she opened it and stole the two other large towels that it contained.
She slung one of them over her shoulder for safe-keeping, then dragged the other back to where her shirt and armor remained, bloodied and abandoned on the cold floor. Hastily, she dropped the towel onto the random pile and wrapped it around to pick up and carry the now-trapped articles.
Casting a final glance at the broom as she straightened her hair with her free fingers, she headed back toward the large door.
Yuffie poked her upper body through the small crack once again, towel over towel covered her neck and shoulders in a blanketed fashion. She kiddishly stepped from the room to stand before the man, half dressed, half secretly not, with a large wad of another towel held in the crook of the arm that held her towel-cloak together. She smiled at him once again.
"Want some help?" She offered her free arm for the man to link with his if he so desired.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 21, 2010 20:35:12 GMT -5
Vincent’s smirk stayed on his handsome face as she smiled back at him, the corner of her bright eyes squinting slightly as her grin remained, urging him to feel better despite his out of character concern. No longer uncomfortable, the gunslinger inclined his head forward in the most imperceptible of nods, his version of ‘you’re welcome’ to anyone who had enough experience of him to recognise the gesture.
Straightening his shirt awkwardly, he watched as she rushed back into the bathroom, darting around in an attempt to compose herself. Vincent couldn’t help but notice she’d left the door slightly ajar, exposing the inside of the bathroom as the steam from the shower started to dissipate, revealing the state of the room. Seeing it in such a state of disarray made him chuckle softly to himself, the sound now noticeable without the cowl to cover it.
Only Yuffie could cause so much mess in such a short space of time he thought amusedly.
As she moved about, he found himself watching her as she created a makeshift top from the bathroom towels inside. He couldn’t help but steal a guilty glance at the smooth, flawless skin of her back, exposed momentarily to him, and he turned away in shame, reprimanding himself silently for his lack of courtesy.
She turned back and came out of the door, her kiddish smile lightening the atmosphere considerably, which relaxed the stressed-out Vincent (though any shift of feeling was barely noticeable from him). “Thanks” he replied, taking her arm as she offered, resting some of his weight on her slightly, careful not to tip her off balance – especially as her improvised top was no doubt slightly unsteady.
“How was the shower?” he asked, wondering if the plumbing was still in perfect working condition in the decrepit old house. Though he’d been at the mansion for the past few days, he had yet to use many of the amenities, as he had been weary from his travels, and spent much of his time merely sitting in silence and contemplating. The subject of his musings would change, but he found himself coming back to the same topics – his past, the state of the world’s shaky new peace, and most often his future. Despite being as grim as usual, Vincent had been willing to change slightly, to let go of some of the mistakes of the past, but the action itself was a hard one for someone who had spent so many years wallowing in grief and self-loathing, it was like trying to fight his instincts.
Still, as he strode towards a night of rest, Yuffie at his side, he had to admit he was quite comfortable. The pain from his wound was starting to fade, though the injury itself was still present and he could still feel small amounts of blood seeping from the hole.
With a relieved sigh, he smiled down at Yuffie as they approached his room once more.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Feb 21, 2010 21:48:11 GMT -5
"It was old," Yuffie scoffed slightly. "It smells like a few of the pipes died." Her response was serious, but her expression was that of exasperated amusement. She rested her head upon the man's shoulder, her eyelids feeling a bit heavier. "The water's still hot, though." Her voice was muffled against her towel-cloak and the man's sleeve. She paused for a long while as they walked, finally feeling sleepy.
"Oh, by the way..." Nearly forgetting that she had it, she motioned to the wadded-up towel. "We can use this to cover up that gross gash. That way your shirt can dry overnight." Yuffie was embarrassed for a moment; she could feel the heat in her cheeks rising as she suggested it, but it would no doubt be more comfortable for the man than wallowing in his own blood through the night.
She could feel Vincent's hair as it fell over his shoulder. It was so...soft. The silky strands brushed against her as they walked. For a moment, she pondered if the man would mind her touching it, but she didn't dare. It was a wonder how it was always in such good shape. Yuffie wasn't really the type tp care about her own hair, but Vincent's always seemed to look (and feel) completely perfect.
She let out a delicate yawn, still sheltered by the warmth of the man's shoulder, almost not realizing that they'd made it back to the room. Yuffie lessened her grasp on Vincent's arm as they went through the doorway and headed back to the couch, and she yawned once more after helping him situate himself.
Her eyes felt like they were going to fall out of her head as she rolled her clothes out of the wadded towel and onto the floor. (A loud 'thud' sounded from her armor as it hit the floor, which did nothing to wake her.)
"Here you go," she didn't look at the man as she handed the cloth to him--only stared blankly at the floor, seeming to check for a good spot to make her bed for the night.
"Gimme your shirt when you're finished, and I'll put it with mine." She didn't seem to realize that her shirt was on the floor at her feet. Or perhaps she was planning on moving everything out of the way. Whatever the reason, it was quite obvious that fatigue from the day was definitely kicking in.
The ninja leaned back, resting her head on the arm of the couch with a distant stare at nothing. She pulled her knees up and leaned to the side, sliding into a most-comfortable (yet very awkward) position.
Yuffie seemed quite pleased with herself; curled into a ball, she barely took up one whole, dusty cushion.
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Post by Vincent on Feb 24, 2010 17:59:01 GMT -5
Vincent felt a strange calm wash over his wounded body as Yuffie rested her light head against his shoulder. He felt the weight of her head increase slightly upon him and he knew she must be tired, though even in fatigue she still retained enough stability to support him. It was obvious that the day’s chaotic events had taken their toll on the both of them.
“OK” the gunman mumbled in response, though he was grateful that she was still looking out for him, even though the promise of rest soon enough made the possibility of Vincent’s condition worsening very unlikely. Vincent cracked a small smile to himself as he watched her eyelids start to droop as a gentle yawn escaped soft lips, and he could feel her warm breath against his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. It made his shoulder tickle oddly, reminding him of the long-forgotten comforts of being close to someone (even just as a friend). These small reactions reminded him of how long he had been without human contact, and he had to wonder if his cold persona was starting wane in reaction to such human comforts – the idea was both terrifying and comforting to the stoic man.
As Yuffie helped him reach the bed and dress the wound, she released her hold on him and mentioned his shirt, rushing out instructions in her yearn to sleep. A sudden thought struck him as he rested against the bed – he couldn’t take the bed and deny Yuffie the chance for proper sleep, even in his distance he was still a gentleman. Turning to face her, he disregarded the part of his mind that was tempted by the thought of a luxurious bed in contrast to the dusty couch.
However, as he turned (the sound of a soft thud reaching his ears) he saw she had already situated herself on the couch, her calm breathing suggesting sleep – she really had been tired. Curled into a ball at the end of the sofa, her position only emphasised her youth and small frame – she looked so fragile in such a state it almost shocked him. Taking one of the many blankets and a pillow from the grand bed, he walked over to her, careful to keep his movements quiet and slow, so as not to wake her.
Gently lifting her head, soft black hair felt underneath his fingers (ungloved for a change), he slipped a pillow under her head so her face wouldn’t be pressed against the harsh old material. He also draped the large blanket (crimson, to match his attire) over her body, making sure she’d be covered and warm for the night.
“Sleep well Yuffie” he whispered, limping back to the bed as his mind filled with thoughts of the next day – would this strange closeness still be present between them when they awoke the following morning? Dismissing the thought, he was aware of his body’s pressing need for rest and he settled himself among the covers. He made a mental note to wake early and not disturb the slumbering ninja – he wouldn’t want her still tired for their trek to Reeve and the WRO.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Mar 1, 2010 14:35:59 GMT -5
It was something that the ninja could barely believe that stuck in her mind even in her unconscious state; something that she would have opted not to think of if given any other option. In her sleep, she searched through the towels and pulled the blanket closer to her, scooting them to the side so that her entire upper body was covered by it. Was it a reaction from a dream, or was she just physically cold...? It was hard to tell, considering the rushed nature of the action.
She curled into a bit of a tighter ball, now hugging her knees--a bit of a defensive position in regards to being asleep---and was now completely covered by the blanket, even her head.
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Where am I...?
Darkness and the sound of running water surrounded her.
What about the mansion...?
She took a few steps into the nothingness, fearing she had nothing more to lose.
What about Reeve and the WRO...?
She looked down---small patches of grass were sprouting around her feet. She stood on a patch of countryside in the middle of a big, black nothing. It didn't move apart from the steps that she'd walked. She bent down to feel the earth--the grass was silky and dew-covered. The sandy-ish soil ran through her fingers like water.
What about Vincent...?
Without even realizing it, she began to run; her long strides dotted the darkness with paintdrops of color and scenery, and as she turned around they slowly ran together into her path. She stood for a moment, an exasperated expression on her face as she crossed her arms.
This is a dream.. This has to be a dream. It's a stupid, pointless, weird dream, but it's a dream. She watched as the color slipped away to become great, tall trees and a small stream running just a few paces away from her. Maybe it's telling me to become an artist, based on my vivid imagination. Yuffie scoffed and chuckled at her own joke. All considered, the place seemed familiar... She doubted she had the ability to create entire new scenes in her mind, so it had to be from somewhere.
The sky above her was suddenly an extreme, untainted blue; the kind that one could only recognize when no other people were there to pollute the color of it. Above her, birds flitted and sang merry tunes as the trees grew ever-taller... Below her---Yuffie looked to her feet---the path was unfolding before her eyes. Chunks of scenery continued to appear with it as it ran.
I don't wanna be here, Yuffie though desperately as she looked to both of her sides. They looked as if they were losing a bit of color with every second that passed. She took a deep breath, inhaling such fresh air that it couldn't have been real... Finally, she bolted, running at full speed to catch up with the light that was quickly escaping her. I have a feeling this isn't a very good idea, even in her imagined state, her lungs felt like they were on fire after a moment of running. but...I guess I don't have any other options.
As she caught up to the scene the red roof of a tall building came into her vision. Now that she was more focused on getting to it, she didn't even realize that she was getting far ahead of the color once again. The ground beneath her feet had changed to rock long ago, but she was too far ahead to realize the danger that she was in.
Just a few more steps and---she was falling! Color rushed over the edges of the apparent end of the ground, and large mountains and cliffs began to take shape behind her. Yuffie looked over her shoulder, desperate to catch herself on something when a realization suddenly came over her. I know those mountains! She was a cross between fearing for her life and complete shock. She looked below, at the fast-approaching ground and... ... ... There was Cloud and the gang, minus the crimson-cloaked vampire!
Now in complete confusion, she looked to her hands that held something... She first noticed that her arms were adorned with the flowing, painted sleeves of a kimono and upon looking to her waist, so was the rest of her body. What the....?!?! Now desperate for answers, she looked to both of her hands... They held two shimmering pieces of materia each. Oh shit... She looked down to Cloud once again, noticing that he looked quite pissed off.
"Yuffie," he called and suddenly her falling speed was decresed to the point of safety. "...Give us back out materia!"
She was on the ground, nearly surrounded by her old friends--all looking a slight degree more angry than their leader.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!! She dove for the only opening between Barret and Cid and bolted, fearing more for her life now than when she was falling.
"You can't get away, Yuffie! We'll get you!" She heard Cloud call after her as she caught sight of Wutai in the distance. The ornamental dress almost made her trip a few times---she never understood why people wore them, even less than why she was wearing one now. Of all the places... Of all the stupid, f*#$ing places...
As she reached the gates of her hometown, she looked behind her... Everything was gone. The mountains, the trees, the birds, the angry mob... Everything had vanished as if it were never there.
Yuffie looked around.
Wutai looked exactly the same as it was when she left, with the exception of a haunting piano melody echoing in her ears. It was beautiful, but full of sorrow and uncertainty... Not something one would hear in her hometown. A clear indication that something was wrong was the fact that there were no people... Perhaps the creative juices in her mind had finally run out. Maybe she just couldn't bring herself to remember the people even if she wanted to. ...Or maybe there really was something wrong.
She made her way through the empty streets of the town cautiously, expecting any number of bad things to happen---from wayward ninjas, to dead ninjas, to zombie ninjas, she wasn't taking any more chances, seeing where they'd gotten her so far...
Her father's Pagoda was the tall red building that she remembered seeing before. Surely someone would be there.
She crossed the bridge and hurried through the remainder of the town to the next area where, to her surprise, every face that wasn't in its place in the rest of town was lined up to the door of the building, staring at her. The moved to both sides silently, making a path for the ninja to walk through. Oriental makeup and clothing matching her own was adorned on every person---men and husbands wore their hair back and their uniforms on with pride, women and wives looked gorgeous in red and gold, with bright earrings and painted faces... Children wore beads and runes carved from the rocks of Da Chao.
Everyone was silent as Yuffie began to walk, some bowed as she passed, but everyone kept their eyes on her. When normally she would be scolded by many for refusing her place, expressions that ranged from hopeful to disgusted were her only clues as to what she was about to face...
She threw herself at the doors to force them open. As the piano grew louder in her ears, she stepped forward (the doors closed behind her) to face two men on the first floor of the battle tower---her father, and... ...Vincent.
She stared at them blankly, unsure of what to think or say. She was tired of surprises---tired of this blasted fantasy that she wanted no part of.
"Yuffie," they spoke in unison, Vincent's velvet voice against Godo's harsh tone.
"What is this..?" She mumbled, finally completely exhausted. Her imaginary head was killing her, along with the rest of her made-up body.
"My daughter, you've returned to me!" Godo's jokes had gotten old years ago. His sarcastic voice was sickening still. The man stared at her through sick eyes... His skin suddenly looked like wax. His muscles were still quite prominent, but they didn't seem as strong now... "You've returned...to Wutai." His words struck her---all of a sudden, she felt the same kind of bad as before, when she was stuck in the mansion in the rusty shower.
"Yuffie," she couldn't help but look at Vincent as he spoke. "What will it be?" He paused for a moment... "The WRO needs you."
Godo cut in abruptly, " Wutai needs you!"
"The world is in a crisis." Even in her dreams, Vincent was exactly as he was. Calm, collected... She invisioned his face through his cloak, long and handsome despite his dark appearence.
She looked from the two men, unable to think or speak. What on the Planet kind of twisted, messed up dream was this...?!
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Yuffie's eyes shot open to find that she was shirtless and covered with an oversized blanket. Frantically, she thought for a moment, trying to remember the last thing that had happened...
I gave Vincent a towel, and... I must have fallen asleep on the couch! She peeked her head from underneath the warm shelter. The room was a tab bit warmer than yesterday, but the room was still quite dark. She stole a glance at the window. The sun was not yet up, but it would definitely be on its way in a matter of minutes. Hastily, she grabbed one of the towels and wrapped it around her shoulders for protection from the temperature-difference of the room and made her way over to the bed in which she presumed Vincent had chosen to rest. She could barely make out his breathing as she listened, but found comfort in the fact that it was there. Her silent feet carried her to the edge of the bed. His hair rested neatly around him in a sea of black, and a bit of the man's pale chest was visible in the light of the moon from the opposite window.
Careful not to wake him, and suddenly caught up in remembering the melody of the piano that she'd heard in her mind, she climbed over the edge and sat at the man's side, observing him. He looked peaceful, his muscles completely relaxed against the dusty covers of the bed. So this is where that blanket came from... It was really nice of him to give it to me... I probably would have frozen to death without it. She scoffed quietly, careful not to make too much noise. After gazing at the window again, she decided that she'd had enough time to gawk at how ghostly he was. That was it. He was a bright, victorian ghost caught in a dark past.
She scooted up a little bit more so she could easily reach the man's ear. Quiet was the a habit with her in the dark. It was how she made a living and kept her life most times.
She leaned forward and the man's soft hair lay delicately against her nose. "Vinny, it's almost morning!" Her whisper was a bit louder than she meant it to be, but was still soft enough to emphasize that she wasn't trying to be obnoxious. She placed her now-freezing fingers against the man's shoulder (which was surprisingly hot to the touch) and shook it a little. "Vinny, Vinny... Vincent! The sun's about to come up." She was nearly positive that he was awake by the time she'd climbed onto the bed, but he made no move to show it...was he? Did he even sleep? She wouldn't know until he either opened his eyes, or told her to stop annoying him.
The thought made her chuckle a little, forgetting that she was still near the man's ear for the moment.
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Post by Vincent on Mar 2, 2010 19:29:59 GMT -5
For Vincent, sleep was a rare time of vulnerability, a moment of weakness when the ghosts of his past sins could come to haunt him without the defence of conscious thought to defend his tattered sanity. Usually the same memories, twisted by guilt and self-blame would attack him in his slumber, it had been the same for his 30 years of his self-imposed exile, and though it was less often now, he doubted the nightmares would ever leave him. However, this time was different, it wasn’t Lucrecia’s pain-filled face that swam in front of his crimson eyes, it wasn’t the taunting maniacal laughter of Hojo that filled his ears and made his heart twist in remorse – this was a new dream. Seldom would his mind choose another course to take during the few hours of rest he allowed himself, but he felt a different and unfamiliar image start to form in his mind.
Vincent could feel his body move in his sleep, but couldn’t wake – some force was keeping his mind pinned against his will, and he could only watch in confusion as a familiar yet long buried face appeared in front of him. Was this a random, meaningless vision from his consciousness? A genuine message from someone long dead? Or an odd twist of fate? All he knew was that for the first time in many years his father came to him, looking exactly as he had the last time Vincent had seen him, unchanged by death or time.
Seeing him again had a strange effect on the gunslinger as he viewed his father, as tall and broad as ever, a bold smile on his face, so similar and yet so different from the face of his son. Words escaped Vincent, but it was his job to listen as his father spoke to him, his voice so coherent and determined that he knew this wasn’t just a dream – he was being contacted by someone and the thought of it scared Vincent, fear tugging at his conscience for the first time in over 30 years.
“The planet needs you once again, my son” Grimoire said, a stern look on his face. “The planet calls you, yet your mind is so guarded that mine is the only voice you will hear” it continued, the deep voice almost similar to Vincent husky tone. “All is not as it seems, don’t let hope fool you.....and don’t let guilt and hatred hold you back” he insisted, rushing his words as though he had little time left. Vincent didn’t know whether to believe it, but he felt his insides twist as his control slipped – these minutes of weakness had left open a window of opportunity for the beasts inside him to take hold.
With a final look, the dream ended, and his mind pushed back the beasts fighting to gain control over him, the beasts weaker now that he had calmed somewhat. He became oddly aware that daybreak was approaching fast – maybe that was what weakened the demons intruding his psyche. Whatever the case, his mind started to protest against the peaceful slumber, and he vaguely remembered reminding himself to wake early, before Yuffie.
Yuffie
With that thought his mind stilled, a voice echoing in his ears, preparing him to enter another dream. But the words drifting into his hazy mind weren’t the harsh tones of his father, or the rough, guttural call of the beasts – this was a woman’s voice, soft and comfortingly familiar, causing him to smile despite himself. As he felt his own body stir, he already knew the wound had healed, the dull ache from last night was gone, and he felt the sticky blood dried against his side. Keeping his eyes closed he merely lay there, feeling a body next to his, emanating warmth, tempting him to approach the form and nestle against it.
Fighting the urge to move, he felt a breath tickle his ear, a giggle escaping the ninja lying next to him. Without even opening his eyes he spoke to her, perfectly awake despite his closed eyelids.
“Good morning Yuffie” he said quietly, surprise that she had woken before him – he usually slept the least. On his adventures with AVALANCHE he’d usually stayed up on guard, even when it wasn’t his turn, listening the rumbling snores of Barret or Cid’s sleep-swearing. Slowly opening his eyes, he found the sight of her smiling at him so close very warming.
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Post by Yuffie Kisaragi on Mar 2, 2010 21:10:56 GMT -5
"I had a weird dream." Yuffie's normal, nonchalant tone of voice was bright. She seemed to have either forgotten or surpressed the events from yesterday. As she smiled down at him, her hair hung over one side of her neck and into her eyes; it really had gotten a great deal longer than it was before. It was still a short cut, of course Yuffie couldn't be seen with anything else, but she looked a great deal older and more feminine, especially when she smiled. "You were in it."
She studied the man, taking in his eyes once again.
In the darkness, against his pale skin, the orbs gave her chills. It was different seeing them glisten in sunlight as opposed to realizing their depth in the night. If it wasn't easy enough to tell from his eyes that the man's mind was always concentrating on something, it was even more visible when the color in them could barely be seen. She watched them, her own eyes half hidden (or was it sheltered?) by her hair, much like his usually were. They were dim in the fading moonlight; their stained velvet was hidden amidst the shadows. Where would they go when the darkness was gone, she wondered...? Would whatever plagued his mind and overtook the ruby orbs vanish with the light...? It was such a different sight, taking him in darkness. Without even realizing it, she drew a bit closer to him, overflowing with fascination.
The muscles in his broad shoulders tensed. She didn't see them--they seemed as motionless as they were just seconds before... She felt them, ever-so-slightly, with the hand that she'd forgotten to withdraw from his shoulder when she shook him. It lingered for a moment, as if paralyzed with a rush of heat from trying to figure out what to do. His skin really was as soft as it looked... Childlike stupor was something that Yuffie was quite good at. It happened a lot when she thought, which was usually a mix between emotion and some form of rationality that she managed to muster.
His eyes are so...Solemn. Her head-voice didn't sound much happier, but such was the price of early-morning thinking. They're quiet. I wonder-- Yuffie cut off her own thoughts. This just wasn't the time.
...But as the man smiled, his eyes brightened; there was the glow she'd grown so used to. Maybe moving on wasn't yet needed... And as they stared at each other for a moment... Hers lit up as well.
She stole rare things-- possessions, items of value, material things--- whatever one would call them, she took them. Oftentimes with no remorse. In the moment, though, she wanted more than anything to steal the man's smile.
It was something so rare that she'd only seen it twice. Twice within less than two days, as a mental note with which she was quite pleased, but it was something to treasure that was certain.
Perhaps it was her greed--- if she wanted something in the past, she would get it. By any means neccessary, she would have it. Be it through plotting, or fibbing, or even through speed, she would work if she had to, if only to get a small thing that she desired. Precious possessions to others would be something new to steal to Yuffie...at least the old one. She'd never really had something dear to her since she was a small child...until now. No matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to take Vincent's smile and keep it as her own. And it was such a rare and comforting thing.
All she would ever have to show for the moment was the memory...was it even possible to steal those? Perhaps if only one person remembered it, it wouldn't technically be shared anymore. So all she needed to do was keep a secret that no one would ever find out to start with. Her smile faded a bit as she realized that she seemed to be growing attatched to the idea of the man's company, something very undependable to start with, no matter how many times she'd ever have to drag him from the place.
The fact was, she supposed, that they were stuck together for now. That was what really mattered,
After another moment, she moved to lay beside the man at a small distance, giving him room to move and her room to sit, bored-seeming with her face squished against her palm in a relaxed stance.
"How're you feeling?"
Her tone was still a bit lacking in a matter of seriousness, but a tiny bit of concern was laced within the words. She continued to trace his outline as she waited for his response.
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