Gunshots

onetwo
a smirk upon the madman's face
and everything is breaking...

Doctor

scalpel sparkles
lights, flourescent
a man made beast

Tears

liquid serpents
marring skin, streaking blood
"i failed you..."

Blood

drowning in death
stain the metal, paint the floor
nightmares, colored crimson

Gauntlet

hide the monster
mask the beast
"nothing but a vessel..."

Hatred

as she weeps
as he laughs
i am no savior

Coffin

dead and breathing
heartbeats, screams
purgatory in wood

Dreams

of those days
when she'd smile
And mouth the words...

"I love you..."

~~

One of his hands is resting on his legs, and the other is fisted in the grass. He feels wrong somehow, as though the world danced right by without touching him. How can his skin be warm and the grass be cold as ice? One should touch the other, surely, change it. But they don't and it frightens him.

Times like this frighten him, though he can't say why. Afterwards, he can look back on his fears and laugh, but perhaps not laugh at all, only pretend. It's funny how many things he pretends. Funny how no one notices that the mask is there, right there!

Then he fears that they do notice that he's not who he's pretending to be, and that they just can't bear to see what he really is. He thinks that should make him cry, but he doesn't. Crying only works if you have someone to comfort you, after all.

His sword is wrong, too. He can't explain it, only knows with a chilling certainty that it is wrong, and that he should do something to correct it. But he's afraid of that, and refuses to let anyone bandage the blisters the handle makes on his skin, even though they burn and bleed. Sometimes he's afraid that pain is all that keeps him alive. He hates it, but he keeps it close.

Then he cries, hating himself for it. Not real crying, he's long since lost the ability to do that, but broken sobs and pleas for something that he never knew and can't remember. He thinks that crying makes him human, but he's not sure if there's enough human in him for crying to save him.

Of course, there's always the possibility that he's not himself, not who he thinks he is, but he can't afford to think that. If he doesn't have himself, he doesn't have anyone. Insanity lurks so near, and he almost wants to call to it.

He never asked to be a hero, never asked to be a martyr, but someone cast a die and made him just that. He supposes he should accept it but he can't, he really can't. Something is wrong, and it makes everything wrong.

He can hear his teeth chattering slightly, and is almost glad for the cold. That means, at least, that he's real for the time being. Unless he's merely dreamed the cold.

Maybe he dreamed everything. The pain and the laughter and the tears. He had heard of people making up such intricate dreams in order to protect themselves from what really has to happen, or... what really did happen, rather.

But he knows, at the same time, that those thoughts can't be true. He dreamed the glory, the happiness, but not the pain. Pain is real, and he hasn't yet figured out how to hide it. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. He's tired of dreaming, but far too afraid to try and stop.

He remembers things, sometimes. Bad things, and he wonders if they happened at all. He could have dreamed them too, he guesses, but he would rather have real nightmares than ones he makes up to convince himself that he can still dream.

Blood, mainly. That's what he dreams about. Morbid, horrifying, and terribly lonely. Sitting... or was he? Somewhere... where? Crying, screaming out someone's name he can't remember, but wishes so desparately to. He thinks he is insane already, and wonders briefly if anyone notices.

His eyes, too, are another disturbing facet of the dream. He doesn't know, really how he managed to capture fire in the irises, or if they've always been that way. Sometimes he sits in front of the mirror and just... stares, hoping that something will click, fall into place. He tells himself he doesn't want to know, but he was never a good liar.

Sometimes he thinks that he is nothing, a vessel to hold thoughts and dreams and hopes of another. He wonders if he has ever had any prayers of his own, and wants to scream when he realizes that there's nothing.

Nothing? Or is there? Is he hiding it yet, skimming over it intentionally with his fingertips? Everyone else has secrets, though he feels he could guess them if he really wanted to know. But he doesn't. Secrets are held close to the heart, and should never be let go.

He doesn't hate himself, that would be stupid. He's not angry really, just... sad. Sad is a good word for it, he's amazed that he can fit himself into three little letters. Sometimes he could add lonely onto that, sort of a sad-lonely that's not bitter, not wrathful, not even depressed. Merely sad-lonely, and he wonders if everyone feels like that sometimes.

He stands, grabbing the sword that doesn't belong to him, but doesn't belong anywhere else, either. His eyes find the dot that is their campfire, a small, warm flower blooming against the dark emptiness of the valley.

A breath of wind touches his face, ruffles his hair. No more than a breath, though he can almost hear it say his name. He wishes it would, he's not even sure if knows his name, but that's okay.

He sets out towards the comforting fire flower that marks the only home he's ever known. That's not right. He's lived in other places, but they seemed cold, strange, and he wonders how you can ever know what home is when you've lived among so many not-homes.

Then he can see the others, sitting around the fire. No one is talking. Maybe they're thinking about the things he thinks abiut, or maybe they were worried about him. He brushes the last pieces of icy grass off his legs, and joins them by the fire.

Perhaps he doesn't know what home is, perhaps he never will. Still, he figures that if you can find a place where you can come bruised, battered, and more than a little crazy, and still be accepted, missed, welcomed...

Maybe home can exist for dreams, too.

~~

(('kay, so I'm not the best writer but... ^^; Vincent and Cloud respectively. I'm too lazy to write an RP post write now, look for one later~ xP Oh... and no stealing, people. That's not cool. o_o))

Yuffie has new thoughts on Halloween.

Screw candy! n_n

And here I thought Vincent was the type to play things predictable and stick to the plan... o_O

I'll never make that mistaken assumption again, that's for sure. In our defense, we did set out with the full intention of trick-or-treating... there's just something undeniably sexy about getting Vincent on a leash and then knowing he can't keep his eyes off of you. After all... Vinny's got the problem of keeping his emotions way too in check.

So, if you were gonna ask who I thought was most at risk to give into impluse and drag me into a random inn for a whole new way of celebrating Halloween... my first pick wouldn't be Vincent. Maybe it'd be Cloud... I think he's always had the secret hots for me...

Anyway, sorry I couldn't be on to tell you all to stay safe and have a blast on Halloween!

Hope everyone got lots of candy, had tons of laughs, and made a few memories~

I know I sure did.

*winks* n//////n

Well, if you came here for an explanation, you might as well just go back to where you came from. See, that's the thing about amnesia. It sucks, plus... you're left a little high-and-dry when it comes to trying to remember stuff. Like, for instance, why I'm back at the bar. Apparently, Vincent dragged me here while I was all wonky, but since I haven't had a chance to strangle... er... talk to him, yet...

His motives remain understandable to himself, only.

Blaaah~... whatever. I need to get back and finish playing "Kick-the-crap-outta-the-rest-of-the-world", but I guess I can take a short break. I just wish said brek could be taken elsewhere. I mean, I walk through a room and Sparda will glance up and tense. Cloud avoids me. Tifa feels sorry for me. Red makes rude comments about killing me. And Vincent is prolly hiding in a coffin somewhere.

Gawd.

If he's gonna kidnap me and throw me back here, then he could at least have the decency to stick around and let me kill him. And if that's too much to ask, he could just shoot me in the head. It'd be easier than feeling like Sephiroth, or something.

And while I'm on the whole amnesia thing, I'm reminded.

Losing your memories sucks.

So, I've come to dispell a few popular rumors and myths.

After all, I don't want people talking crap outta me if I go nuts again.

1. Vincent has a sense of fun. - FICTION.

Whoever started this particular rumor is obviously on some sort of drug. Example of Vincent's lack of... er... any apparent life at all, shown below:

See? Who wouldn't wanna kiss me upside-down? *sniffle* T_T

2. Vincent has a sense of fashion. - FICTION.

Oh Gawd, who started this one? Look, just take a peek at this picture of him...

... anyone who would wear a sweater with a picture of Barrett has issues. 'nuff said.

3. Turks are mature, professional individuals who always mantain an air of perfect order and grace. - FICTION.

This may, at one time, have been true. Then someone let Reno join. >_>;

If someone wants to pick a cause for the Turks' recent... suckiness...

I nominate him.

... shhh, you didn't hear me say that. <<;;;

... he is kinda hot, though.

... ... ...

In the most not hot way possible, of course! >//////<

4. Yuffie is completely and utterly obsessed with materia. Without it, her life is meaningless. - FICTION.

I am not! I have other interests! In fact, I'm a well-rounded, balanced person with a healthy social li-...

*sees materia roll by, twitches*

... it's a lie, I tell you. A liiiiieee...

*dives after materia* COME BACK~!

5. Chaos is a vicious, hell-raising demon. - FICTION.

... >_>;;

Now, see... this is what really goes on...

6. Cid is sane. - FICTION.

Ummm...

>_>; Just look at the evidence...

7. Yuffie has a Woolly Chocobo, which she still cuddles at night. - FICTION!!!

... I do not... mighty ninjas... wouldn't have any interest in cuddling a soft, sweet, fluffy little friend. ^_^

... *twitches, puppy-dog eyes* I've never seen it before in my life! I swear!

9. Yuffie has the hots for Vincent. - FICTI-

Wait.

Where'd you hear that?! Lies! I do not!

Liiiiies, all of it! >_>;;

... wha... I do not! That never happened! Get it off the screen! >/////<

10. Vincent doesn't like chocobos in that way. - FICTION.

... ha. Don't make me laugh. Look at this proof... >>

If there was one thing that could be said for Yuffie, it was that she was a sore loser. No one had ever shown her the meaning of tact or restraint, so she tended to fight with her all. Pride and duty somehow snarled themselves in her every battle, whether it be a fight to save the world or an argument with Cloud about his conspicuously absent materia. Every victory sent her into wild euphoria, every loss sent her running to a corner to sulk and curse at whatever had bested her.

And today, she was definitely the picture of defeat.

She'd managed to hole herself away in one of the more obscure rooms in the palace, digging out the bullets from her wounds and swathing herself with bandages until she looked more like a Halloween reject than a proud ninja. For whatever reason, Chaos still hadn't retreated fully back into her body, which left a ragged, oversized wing protuding from her left shoulder blade like a freakish stage prop. The J-Cells were slowing down the effect of Cure materia, so she was stuck with her bloody bandages and more than noticable limping.

It was frickin' humiliating, and she was gonna make sure Sparda paid.

... or was she?

After all, she'd killed Cloud and stood by while Chaos had nearly killed Tifa... wasn't he justified? If someone threw Vincent into a blazing bar, she'd feel pretty righteous when she kicked the culprit into next Tuesday. Still, this was different. He barged into her home and defeated her, not some neutral battleground. It was more of a spit in the face, more of a personal insult...

Everything was getting hellishly out of control. First of all, she'd taken a little of Vincent's blood while he'd been asleep, then her researchers had managed to duplicate the Chaos gene. After that, it was a simple matter of putting the gene into herself and seventeen of her more advanced troops. A good plan, right?

Wrong.

She'd sent the troops to Nibleheim and Rocket Town, only to receive reports that they'd slaughtered anyone and anything around them. Screw honor, screw protocol. They were out for the kill, and now they were completely out of her control. To make matters even worse, J-Cells had somehow gotten in her system...

Chaos and JENOVA apparently thought it'd be a laugh to team up.

She'd lost control of herself, her troops, and nearly everything around her... however much she hated to admit it, Sparda was right. This war was a bad idea, and the consequences were stacking up quickly enough to make her head spin.

"How the hell am I going to fix this one...?" Yuffie mumbled to herself, choosing to curl up on the floor rather than the furniture. "And it's not like I can say no one tried to warn me, either... I can't go back, not after everything I did. I can't lose, but... I'll hate myself for winning like this..."

Too many voices in her head.

The ninja sat up woozily, dragging a small DVD player in the disc of recorded material that her men had dug out of ShinRa's old files. The report summarized most of their findings as useless junk, but she could hardly show her face like this. Better to watch some ShinRa junk than face the humiliation of anyone seeing her like this...

A slender finger pressed the button to start the video playback, eyes widening at the image instantly brought up on the screen. A younger looking Vincent with shorter hair, laying on some sort of operating table while Hojo spoke to the camera. The audio was fuzzy and practically inaudible, but Yuffie didn't want to hear it anyway. Nausea promptly curled in her gut, and she snapped the device shut and pushed it away from her as though it had something to do with Vincent's torture.

"The sick bastard actually recorded what he did..." Yuffie shuddered, curling up into a ball and unconsciously using the wing as a ragged drape. The sheer irony of the situation struck her suddenly, a small whimper escaping her. As she sank further into this monstrosity, she happened to stumble across the video files of a sick and twisted man...

Almost like... an omen...?

Currently Listening No Name Face By Lifehouse Simon (Wolf) see related

Yuffie slumped into her country's throne, nearly swallowed by the over-large piece of furniture. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her tiny frame, her clothes stained with blood and a small cut on her upper arm bleeding freely. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep until things calmed, but how could she?

The chaos was her fault.

The radio next to her was doing nothing to calm her nerves, reporters speaking grimly of the violent and unprovoked attacks from Wutai. "... and the battle that was launched earlier this morning has left Junon in ruins, WRO troops are still searching for surviviors. Another battle is currently being waged at the WRO headquarters, no official report has reached us of the casualties sustained thus far. Wutai soldiers are reportedly headed towards Kalm and Edge, apparently unsatisfied with the blood that has been shed so far. Most troubling was the most recent attack on Midgar, presumably focused on the hang-out of AVALANCHE, The 7th Heaven bar. No confirmation has been reached as of yet, and the world is encouraged to pray for the safety of our brave heroes. No word has come from Wutai on their goal in this war, nor what provoked their violent actions. It seems that our Planet's peace has finally come to an en-"

The little ninja reached over and flicked off the radio, a deep sigh flowing from her lungs. "I did what I had to do... for my people, for Wutai. War... war is best for us! I won't allow our pride to be taken away... I will... make sure... that we win... we hafta win... I'll kill anyone who stands in my way..."

[FLASHBACK]

Battle was raging at the site of 7th Heaven, a helicopter and several troops having flown from Wutai to attack Cloud, Tifa, and anyone else they could find. Though she didn't order the attack, Yuffie joined her people in battle, allowing the helicopter to lay ruin to the bar and then weakening Tifa with a powerful blast from Leviathan. At Vincent's urging, Cloud seperated Yuffie and Tifa, the ninja turning her attention to the blonde swordsman, instead.

After sealing Tifa off from Cloud with an ice wall, trapping her with several of the Wutai soldiers, Yuffie challenged Cloud to a fight. Meanwhile, Vincent was struggling to remain in control, torn between his love for Yuffie and his loyalty to his friends. Finally, he became Chaos, swooping into the midst of the soldiers as Yuffie and Cloud continued to fight warily.

Yuffie darted forward, a small dagger in her hand and fire in her eyes. She was lost to a beserker rage, wanting only to kill, wanting to make the others pay for the wrongs she had been tricked into believing they had commited. Cloud slashed out with his sword as well, forcing Kisaragi to jump back to avoid being injured. Cloud's blade whipped across her upper arm, leaving a thin cut that only served to enrage Yuffie further.

"You'll pay for that!" She cried angrily.

Cloud only scoffed. "You'll never hit me with range like that..."

A triumphant grin bloomed on Yuffie's lips as she held up her hand, Conformer returning to its mistress willingly. "Haven't you heard, Cloud? Good failures let themselves be exterminated easily..."

"I'm... not... a failure..." Cloud responded feebly, stung by her words and struggling to keep from becoming distracted. Having Yuffie as an enemy was so sudden, so unexpected. She, who teased and joked with him endlessly, now stood before him with hatred and bloodlust in her eyes. Could he fight her? If it came to it... could he... kill Yuffie...?

Yuffie didn't give him much of a chance to answer, her materia glowing as she sent a powerful Flare directly at Cloud. The blonde staggered back dizzily, luckily dodging the brunt of the blow. Earth and grass was gouged wickedly from the Planet as the Flare took out its rage upon the ground.

"Don't deny it!" Yuffie laughed, eyes blazing with a dark and wicked flame. "You're too pitiful to do anything without help! Without us, you would be nothing! NOTHING!"

Hurt by her words and still stunned by the sudden change, Cloud looked at Yuffie in melancholy horror. "At least... I don't... backstab my friends... not like you..."

For a moment, the only sound that was audible was the rapid-fire pop of the soldiers' guns as they took aim at Chaos. The demon brushed off the bullets as though they were harmless marbles, swooping and diving. Tifa struggled to free herself from the chains that bound her, determined not to get caught amongst Chaos' wrath. The monster's claws and teeth were dripping with blood, and the slaughter only continued... Chaos, killing with a smile to the music of blood-chilling screams.

"Friends?!" Yuffie finally cried, a bitter laugh tearing from her throat. "A proud ninja doesn't have friends like you! A failure and a piece of slum trash... both too weak to save their homes, their parents, their loved ones..."

Cloud's eyes began to fill with tears, the pain of his friend's words tearing deeply. Why was Yuffie doing this? What had he done to deserve such... hate? "You're the pathetic one..." The swordsman said quietly, a cold sorrow digging into his heart. "You're just a puppet, now..."

Kisaragi's laughter rang out, loud and clear. "A puppet? Me? Ha! We'll see who's the stronger one... AS I CUT YOU INTO PIECES!"

She charged him, Conformer gleaming wickedly as she spun it. Cloud started to take a defensive stance, then lowered his guard. His eyes were calm, full of sorrow... but resolute. "I don't want to fight you... you're my friend, Yuffie. You're still my friend."

The boom of a missile roared angrily, speeding towards Chaos in the attempt to take his life. The demon only seemed to laugh, roaring loudly and sending the missile flying back to the helicopter. The aerial vehicle exploded violently as the missile struck it, and Chaos only smiled. He picked up Tifa by the neck, seeming to debate whether or not to take her life as the martial artist struggled to get free. Tifa's pleas to Vincent were swallowed amongst the screams of dying shoulders and the racket as the helicopter debris rained back to the earth.

"YOU'RE NO FRIEND OF MINE!" Yuffie shrieked, voice filled with rage. She leapt high into the air, Conformer raised and poised to deliver a deathblow. Cloud only watched, his expression peaceful and unafraid as he lowered his sword to his side.

"... I'll always be your friend..." Cloud promised her, a sad smile forming on his lips.

"V-Vincent! Please! Don't do this!" Tifa begged, watching as Chaos slapped away a few more soldiers approaching him and only gripped Tifa's neck tighter. The flaming helicopter crashed down into the bar, setting the meager remains on fire. Lockhart continued to struggle against the demon's grip, wine-colored eyes full of tears as she watched her beloved home burn to the ground.

Yuffie slammed Conformer's blade into Cloud's chest, a devilish light sparkling in her eyes. "DIIIE!"

'Am I... nothing... but... a failure...?' Cloud thought, vision slowly going back as he fell to the ground. Yuffie wrenched Conformer out of Cloud's chest quickly, looking up in time to see the next helicopter swoop down and start gathering survivors.

Chaos sensed Vincent beginning to take control again, and he mustered the last of his strength to send Tifa flying back through the wall of the bar. Lockhart cried out in pain, before going still amongst the blazing rubble. Vincent once again assumed his human form, collapsing face down upon the ground. Yuffie rushed to him, gathering him up in her arms and placing him gently in the helicopter.

Then, the Wutai attack party flew back home, leaving the two AVALANCHE members for dead...

[END OF FLASHBACK]

Yuffie retched violently as she escaped from her memories, lunging over the side of the throne and vomiting violently upon the floor. Blood flowed from her pale lips and splattered on the white marble floor, staining it with a pool of crimson. The memory of Cloud's peaceful eyes, Tifa's scream, the blood... so much...

She vomited again, the treacherous blood forced out of her lungs once more. She'd block the memories from her mind. She had to! They deserved this war! They deserved to be punished...

Thunder-cloud eyes went oddly hazy, the ninja lost in a half-dreamy state. War... was best for her people...

The little ninja stood up after a moment, tying a yellow scarf about her neck to hide the ugly brand that disfigured her skin. She fled the throne room, darting quickly down the hall until she reached her own bedroom. Vincent was lying were she'd put him, bandaged and cleaned tenderly, covered with soft, warm blankets. Yuffie sat beside him on the bed, lifting one hand to brush away ebony strands from his face.

"Sleep well..." Yuffie whispered, leaning down to place a loving kiss upon his forehead. "You'll need your strength... I'm... so sorry... that you had to be involved... I'll make sure you're never hurt again... I swear it..."

A uniformed man entered the room, jerking Yuffie from her thoughts. "My lady, my troops are at your disposal. Are we to continue the offensive?"

Yuffie thought for a moment, then nodded silently.

"For Wutai, then," The General responded, turning and preparing the next strike.

"For Wutai..." Yuffie echoed, a peculiar smile blooming on her lips. "For Wutai..."

Then she turned, continuing to watch over Vincent as he slept...