In which Draco excuses himself…
Er… see, here’s the problem. I don’t know if this is going to be the epilogue thread thingie, or if Kyo’s going to make another one. See, I don’t want to go through the pain of posting an epilogue if I’ll just have to put it through again.
…that, and Shang Tsung isn’t one for much partying, ya know? But yeah, that’s my defense, and I’ll merrily run away now. Yeah…
In which Damnation delays again…
I think that I will finally be able to write something on the weekends since I have Monday off. I might be able to write something tomorrow even, not that anyone should count on it though.
However, since I have been trying to catch up on my comic book reading, and am gearing up for a possible FFT fanfic or the actual continuing of my “Crystal Dark” fanfic, I’m not sure when. Monday by the latest.
This is the epilogue thread.
in lazy ooze form
Aaah, finally got around to editing my post. Having to retype the whole thing twice didn’t help in speeding things up either.
I’ll probably come up with another story post between here and my finishing post at the end of the Afterparty. But for now, I’m sleepy…
oozes over to bed
Testament continued to wander the shores of the volcanic isle. The question that filled his mind could be reduced to three simple words: “Heaven or Hell?”
He had the power of a god in his hands; with power like that, he could do just about anything. He could travel between worlds; that much had been implied by Daisetsu’s speech. He could probably, if he wanted to, return home and kill every human on Earth, as a vengeful incarnation of death. Or he could act to guide and protect the species. Or he could do nothing with his power, and simply go back and protect the Grove as he had been. The options were many.
“Testament-sama…”
The black-clad Gear looked up, jarred out of his thoughts as Zio spoke. The succubus was, as usual, perched on her scythe, hovering over Testament’s head.
“Yes, Zio?”
“Perhaps, if you’re having trouble deciding what to do, you should ask others about what governs their actions? Maybe if you hear how they decide what they do, you can decide what choice you should take…”
Testament thought about that for a moment; then he started to smile.
“That is a good idea indeed, Zio. In fact…I know just where to start.”
And with that, both Testament and Zio were gone from the abandoned stretch of beach, only the set of footprints in the sand giving any evidence that anyone was here…
Heh. Sorry I haven’t posted anything yet. I was half waiting for Psycho Power to finish editing his post. Not to mention that a friend recently let me borrow his copy of Xenosaga. :o
Anyway, I’ll start writing something soon hopefully. Or play more XS. Whichever dominates my mind more. :E
In which Shang Tsung returns to his own realm…
Shang Tsung looked over the whole of the town from his position on the top of a ferris wheel. The entire town seemed to be glowing brightly, and from his position, the sorcerer felt that he could almost grasp it… It was just a little beyond his reach…
He slowly shook his head. *No… that won’t work… I must return to my own realm, and prepare for the invasion of Earthrealm. This farce… What has it accomplished for me? What have I gained?
A few more souls, maybe, and knowledge of places far beyond my own realm. But they are so heavily defended that I doubt I shall be able to conquer them on my own, even with the help of the Dragon King’s army.*
With a lurch, the ride came to an end, and Shang Tsung strode into the crowd, Li Mei at his side. Very few of the masqueraders seemed to notice the pair, and indeed, the sorcerer walked seemingly effortlessly through the congested streets, as though he was ethereal.
With a derisive chuckle, he motioned to Li Mei. “What of you? What were you like in your formal life?”
The skeleton merely stood at attention, and said nothing. After a brief moment of silence, the sorcerer turned to all of the gathered people, some of which he had fought before.
Mal’Ganis… Testament… Ky Kiske… Sol Badguy… Kalten… So many opponents, none of them remained true for any length of time. I bid you farewell, but not good bye. Oh no. My own realm is only the first step. I shall see you soon… And this time, there will be no rules, no ‘lords,’ nothing save raw power and technique.
The sorcerer pulled out the amulet he had ‘borrowed’ from Quan Chi, and rubbed its smooth surface. “Take me back. Get me out of here.”
The portal opened, and Shang Tsung was never again seen in the lands of the An’Ven…
[OOC]And that’s it! Thank you, sponsors, for interacting with me and making this such a fun tournament. nods Thank you, and good night.[/OOC]
All right, here we go. This only concerns Amethyst’s arrival back home, so if anyone still wants to interact with him (HA! Like that’s real likely. :p), you can.
Note that this outro contains a whole lot of characterization of NPCs, a whole lot of plot that many of you already know, and an ending painstakingly transcribed directly from the TV screen. It didn’t seem fair to write it any other way. No matter how it’s broken, the story goes on. “Which is why it’s so hard to get death du jour off your menu today, Eike…”
“Where do you think they went?”
Fuse glanced over at Emelia and shrugged. The entire party had made their way into the statue in an effort to get out of the rain. They were currently lounged about around a small fire burning near one of the pillars.
Gen aimed a kick at one of the columns. “Well, we can’t very well continue without them. They’re the only ones that really know where we’re going.”
T260’2 photoreceptors swiveled to cover Gen. “Forecasting node shows 50.0 percent chance subjects are no longer in this temporo-spatial reality plane. Possible causes include termination of biological support functions, spontaneous dimensional travel, or planeshifting anomolous bioform confluence for purposes of sifting said bioforms.”
“…In English, please?”
Dr. Nusakan glanced up from poking the Poring with a small detector-type instrument. “If I understand him correctly, then Blue and Rouge are probably not in this world anymore. They could be dead, travelling on their own, or caught up in another tournament.”
“bzzt That is what I said.”
Silence shrugged, tapped his watch, then lay down and closed his eyes. After a few moments, a light snore rose from the Mystic’s body. Mesarthim laughed, a sound akin to water cascading off a series of bells.
“Milord Silence has the right idea. We should relax and wait.”
Gen growled and sank down next to the fire, poking a few of the pieces of wood closer together. “I hate waiting.”
Suddenly, there was a “whamf” of displaced air, causing the fire to flicker and gutter. Everyone in the room leaped up, weapons trained on…
A violet-robed figure, arms raised to the sky. He opened his mouth and spake as a dragon, “I AM!”
Gen flicked one sword at the stranger quickly. “Yeah, yeah… Who you am, buddy…” It seemed everybody recognized him at once.
“Amethyst?”
Amethyst lowered his arms and smiled. “That’s us.” He looked around. “How long were we gone?”
T260 whirred gently. “24 hours, 12 minutes, 32.4 seconds on my mark. Mark.”
“One day… As he said…” He sat down against a pillar. “These tournaments are doing some weird dances around space-time… A week takes alternately 5 seconds, 20 seconds plus a hundred and fifty feet, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, or a day…” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I’m a bit disoriented right now… Our mind’s viewing time in two different ways.” After a moment, he opened his eyes again and spoke calmly.
“So.” He looked around. “What happened to the corpses?”
“Chucked 'em outside.”
Amethyst nodded. “All right. Before we left, the archmage said we… I… had been destined from birth to fight the legions of Hell. This was why we were split into the twins. One child, one soul, two bodies. But the region… no, probably the world… only had a chance if we were one. Our working together and not trying to mercilessly slaughter one or the other of us kinda threw a kink in those plans.”
“Wait.” Fuse looked puzzled. “If you were one?”
“When one of us defeated the other, the loser’s soul would be absorbed into the winner’s body, thus making us whole and complete. This is probably why we’ve been merged in the tournaments. Not to mention the merger would give us complete command of practically every single spell in the world.”
Nusakan chuckled. “The exception being the blood-borne power of the Mystic, correct?”
“Correct. Rouge was able to obtain the basic teachings, but only at the cost of his own Realm magic. Short of a blood transfusion, there is no way for us to truly become a Gifted master of Mystic magic.”
He paused for a moment, then continued. “Anyway, this tournament could not have come along at a better time. Through the specific circumstances of this one, we were sent back combined, as you can see. My power has also increased.”
“There’s another benefit, too.” Gen remarked.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you don’t finish each other’s sentences anymore!”
Amethyst looked a bit gruff for a moment, then smiled. “All right. We… I… have to go down to Hell. I wouldn’t ask you all unless I thought I would need the help. Will you come with me?”
As should be expected, ten minutes later found every last one of the party standing at the base of the statue of the three goddesses. Amethyst led the way slowly through the misty, dripping ruins.
“The destruction is getting worse. We must be getting close to the portal.”
Rounding a corner, they came to an area where every building had been flattened. In the center, a ring of figures lay on the ground, each with one arm outstretched toward the center of the circle, where a pit of foggy vapor writhed. A low chant rose up from the prone figures, and a flickering golden dome was being projected over the roiling vapor. As they watched, the chant faltered, and the dome flickered and went out. Amethyst gasped and rushed forward, arm outthrust.
“Take my blood to feed your lives… Sacrifice!”
Surrounded in a coruscating cocoon of energy, Amethyst felt a portion of his life energy being torn from his body. The rest of the party watched as crackling yellow-green mist surrounded each of the figures of the circle. The mages struggled to one knee, their chants resuming and rising in volume, the barrier snapping back into place, golden and nearly opaque. Amethyst, however, dropped to his own knees and skidded the rest of the way to the dome, which he nearly collapsed against, breathing hard. The nearest mage, clad in the robe of a journeyman, turned to him.
“You’ve given us strength to go on. We can keep this barrier in place for a few more days at least now. Thank you.”
Amethyst panted, then looked at the pool of vapor. “Can I get to hell from here?”
“You’re going to fight the demons? Are you the last magician?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You must be Blue or Rouge… There’s still hope for the kingdom. I must warn you, once you enter, you can’t get out until you beat the last demon. And don’t use Gate Magic there. You’ll be cast away into the eternal oblivion.”
Slowly, Amethyst nodded. “I’m ready.”
“The kingdom’s relying on you. We’ll try to send as much help as we can.”
Amethyst gestured his companions forward, and one by one they proceeded through the barrier, stepping into the pool of cloud and fading from view. Finally, Amethyst stepped through the barrier himself. Taking one last look at the shattered ruins of his home region, he stepped into the fog.
From behind him, he heard the journeyman say, “So, you’re the real…” as the world faded around him.
For one with the power of a god, finding the recent combatants wasn’t hard; they stood out like embers of fire glowing against a moonless night. With a single thought (shadow shifting no longer required the absolute concentration it had previously demanded), he shifted towards one…
He found himself in a rocky, forested area a considerable distance inland, standing atop a ridge made out of grayish stone and greenish brown moss. Testament looked down at the fighter below…and saw what looked to be a demon. Taller than an ordinary man, it had leathery wings, horns, a gruesome visage no mother could love, and an aura that would probably make the very grass burn and die beneath his hooves, were it unchecked. Testament reached out, scanning the psychic ambience around him; as he did so, the demon’s name rose in his mind - “Mal’ganis the Desecrator”. He remembered seeing this one several times, when they first arrived at each new location, though he had never really met him before. That was no doubt fortunate for him; Testament’s noted dislike for soul-stealers would have placed him rather high on his list of people to kill. But at the moment, Testament had resolved to stay his blade. The menacing demon drew nearer, as of yet unaware of Testament’s presence; but he wasted no time in revealing himself. With a swift movement, he leapt down from the tree, landing several feet in front of him, blood-hued scythe in hand. He rose to his feet; the demonic figure stopped in its tracks, crimson eyes registering a trace of rather cold surprise, along with an analytical glance.
“You are Mal’ganis the Desecrator, correct?”
The demonic figure paused for an instant before answering, considering the facts; including Testament’s dislike of soul-stealers. He almost grimaced; this day seemed to be turning sour rather quickly.
“Yes, I am Mal’ganis. And you are Testament, from the Arena. Tell me though; what brings you to this place?”
This time it is Testament who pauses, thinking how to phrase what he says next.
“I came to ask a question of you. I wish to know…why do you fight?”
Thanks, Dry. Something to write while I’m trying to get my conclusion to behave…
Mal’Ganis straightened himself, towering perhaps a foot over the… well, it would be inaccurate to call him a mortal now.
The Dreadlord telekinetically ripped a slab of rock from the craggy ground below and lowered it behind Testament. “Please, sit. I… apologize… for not having anything better for you.”
The new immortal smirked, recognizing the stark difference between Mal’Ganis’s words and his tone. “I will stand, thank you. Will you answer my question?”
The demon at first ignored him, spreading back his wings and resting on the mentally-hewn “chair” that mirrored the one he had carved for Testament. “You’ve become quite the splendid new demigod, have you not? Hard to believe those you were crossing blades with as equals merely days before are now pawns infinitely below you.”
“Hard to believe.” the gear replied evenly.
“Is that what you fought for, Testament? Power? Revenge? Your soul still burns within you, I can sense that… although it has been assuaged now.” He waved a clawed hand idly. “Don’t tell me the battle against the ‘Void’ was sufficient for your appetite.”
The dark man gave the slightest smile. “I learned some things throughout all of this. And…”
Mal’Ganis nodded. “Knowledge. Power. Perhaps the two things mortals crave most, besides other mortals, hah. So you have now what most of your kind could only dream of.”
Testament slowly nodded. The demon frowned, narrowing his eyes. “So you have some idea of why I risked my immortal existence at times. I will likely be destroyed when I go back, since I lack… well, I lacked at one time, I am unsure now… the power to kill those who wish to kill me. Doesn’t it sound familiar… Gear?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “It does.”
The demon stood, slowly circling around to the back of his stone recliner. “…revenge? Simply pre-emptive murder? Strike down the fools before they kill you… as you know they will try to do? I have already died once. I doubt I would be able to return again… the Legion has taken a much more active interest in my fate than most.”
“So you needed the power to… what? No one can empty Hell.” There was an unspoken Except me… maybe… in what the gear had said.
“No, I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. For you, for Daisetsu, for this entire group combined. There are simply too many, and the fighting is never on even terms… no, no I only need to be powerful enough to burn the strongest demon away. The challenge will be getting to him. I do not believe Kil’Jaeden is nearly as strong as he is cunning… I am called a Desecrater for a reason, you know,” he added, voice low; “…although that title is soon to be replaced. Kil’Jaeden is called the Deceiver. Even your mind should have no difficulty discerning what he is.”
“…so you were fighting for power, too.” I see.
The Dreadlord smirked. “Ah, ah… not entirely. Nathrezim are wise, especially the older ones… and I have lived for millenia. There is usually another way. And then I realized that by consuming souls of the vanquished I could still get the power that refused to come to me on its own. So I plotted… first to conquer Jun, then to betray Kalten, then next Dorrin and finally the arrogant mortal swordsman himself.”
Testament raised an eyebrow, as though completely unsurprised by the impromptu comment. “But that obviously didn’t work.”
“Obviously. I found myself unable to kill Jun when I had the chance. And Kalten… well, you can never trust a mortal to handle those things correctly, especially when they’re under duress, time constraints, whatnot.” He shrugged. “It did not really slow me down. I had won enough souls and…” he glanced down, just slightly; at the gear. “…and a contingency. Formidable your powers may be, demigod… I have quite a history of hiding my will from even the most determined eyes.”
The man only nodded in reply, gesturing for Mal’Ganis to continue.
“…there is still time. But… well, in short, I fought because on the one hand, it amused me. The bleeding, dying, crying of mortals… I am a demon, gear! Such things cannot help but make me smile. I fought because I had to. I only survive by preying on the weak… I am Nathrezim. We are as much vampires as we are demons. And I… as I told someone… dear… to me, cannot change what I am. And finally, I fought because there was no other way. And I will fight many more battles before I can finally have peace… either on my own, or in oblivion.”
Mal’Ganis glanced sidelong at Testament, who was simply staring; absorbing all of this. “…so. What about you?”
The black clad Gear laughed for a moment, more at himself than anything else; then, his face settled into a more serious expression.
“I have fought for many reasons. In another life long past, I fought to repay a debt of kindness; another time, I fought to fulfill a vision of madness and bring about the end of the human race. And once, I fought to protect someone precious to me. But…things have changed. Or perhaps I am what has changed; I feel that to be the more likely. Now, I am no longer sure; of myself, or of anything else. In fact, that is the reason that I’m asking questions of the other participants in this little excursion. By learning what others held important, I may be able to gain greater understanding…and perhaps decide a course of action for myself.”
Mal’Ganis slowly nodded. “I see.”
…ha! You thought that was going to be it, didn’t you? ;D Sorry. Anyway…
Mal’Ganis slowly nodded. “I see. So you have risked for life for different reasons over different times. …why? Why did you give up your dream? What happened to your debt? Is this woman still ‘precious’ to you?”
Testament started to reply, but the demon cut him off. “Those were rhetorical questions. No, it has been paid, to your satisfaction; and yes. But as you said you’re not sure… but not of yourself. You are unsure of just what to do now. You are afraid your once-mortal life has lost its purpose… now that there is no woman to save; no cause to die for.”
The Gear half-smiled. “You do have a point. I’m not sure what… if anything’s left for me.”
“They will certainly not be a challenge for you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
The demon shrugged carelessly. “I am not a teacher. I am not your soul. I cannot give you an answer where the question is only known to you. …nor would I, if I knew.”
Testament squinted, eyes adjusting easily enough to the soft glow now emanating from the Dreadlord’s right hand. “Why not?”
He didn’t at first reply, letting his hand clench, then open. In it he held a spoon-- gleaming silver, of unmatched quality. He handed it to the brooding man. “Break it.”
Testament shrugged and closed his thumb and index finger, pressing against the thin metal handle–
“No. Anyone can break it with force. You will do so without touching it.”
The Gear raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and glared at it. His eyes seemed to blaze; focusing on the fragile tool–
“You can’t will yourself to shatter it, can you? You’re still living in a mortal dream, where all your quasi-divinity has granted you are bigger muscles and a knack for wisecracks. And that is why you will never find meaning in what you are now. You are not ready for it.”
Testament effortlessly crumpled it in his hand, casting it down. “So what are you saying?”
“I say that you will need time. Time to decide what you are and what you plan to do. …I wish I could live to see it. You would do a much better job than the quartet of Elders who granted it to you.” The demon glanced away, baring, for a moment; his fangs.
“Why fight him if you know he’s going to kill you, Mal’Ganis?”
The Dreadlord’s piercing gaze met Testament’s eyes; and to his surprise found a small measure of compassion in them. “Because I have no other choice. Did you put away your scythe when Dizzy needed you–”
“How did you–”
“I know. And you did not, did you? Because you believed in something more valuable than your own transient existence.” Mal’Ganis waved his clawed hand. “I do not hold any such delusions. Enough demonic power from a determined enough source and that will be the end of me. But I will not live out my time running from the Legion. I cannot hide… so I will kill the fool for wishing my death. And perhaps I shall rule…”
It was Testament’s turn to verbally cut through his opponent’s armor. “And what about Jun?”
The Dreadlord paused. “…I have not yet decided. Perhaps after I visit those fascinating caves… Testament? A question.”
He nodded. “Yes?”
“Hm… you might just survive it… yes…” Mal’Ganis’s voice rose back from its whisper as he looked Testament over. “…yes. Would you be interesting in helping me kill the Elder Demon of the Twisting Nether? I already have one ally prepared, but there is always room for another…”
Time is really being cruel to me these days, so I may not be able to put up my Alma epilogue posts for a while, but rest assured I will finish it sometime, and give out my personal kudos in the Awards thread. ^^ And I’m very flattered over all the praise I got. Thanks.
Til then, te amo! XD
I would’ve started this alot sooner, but…shit happens.
Rydia’s Epilogue: Part 1 of 3.
The pain.
It was the only thing that he knew for certain was true. The thing that stood out like a beacon of light among all of the unknown possibilities that the future could bring. The one thing, above all others, that confirmed that he still existed in the universe.
That is what Ryo felt as he layed on the hard cold floor of the ruins of the Illusion, his body completely broken and his mind teetering on the edge of consciousness as the pain surged through his body. He wore it like a second skin, as it felt as though his bones were covered in spikes that unforgivenly pierced his muscles and arteries, and his blood was replaced with nalpalm and cyanide that was quickly destroying him from the inside like a virus. The strange thing was that Ryo was proud of it.
How many battles like this has he been in throughout the years? How many times were he and his friends faced with impending doom due to a maniacal madman or a tyrannical god? How many times, like now, was his body completely engrossed in anguish?
They were too many to count. Too many close calls. Too many instances where one movement, one second, or one thought was all that made the difference between life and death. But Ryo wasn’t thinking about those past battles, or even the pain that he felt.
“I’m still here.”
He had survived. No matter how his body felt after the battle was over, he wore it like a badge of honor as he, his friends, and fellow warriors looked upon the emission of ki energy that would leave their adversaries as their mystic bodies broke down and dissipate into nothingness. And after the light show, he and the others would slowly pick themselves up and stand in a circle, talking about the good old days where people actually participated in KOF to test their skill against others and NOT to stop an Orochi or NESTS threat. And when he looked to his left there was King as always, punching him in his side and telling him that she could still kick his butt anyday as her vanilla perfume and her smile always seemed to lower his defense against the attack.
But this time was different. There wasn’t any flashing lights or Joe Higashi’s jokes about Sie’s bad luck with Athena, or the light scent of vanilla whiffing through his nose. There was just a voice.
“Ryo? Are you okay?”
The warrior slowly opened his eyes to see a disturbed Jan trying to pull him up rather unsuccessfully.
“Y…Yeah. Where’s King?”
Jan’s looked at Ryo with a start and then slowly lowered his head. He had thought that Ryo knew where his sister had gone and could get her back, but his comment put that theory to rest.
“I don’t understand…” Ryo tried to think of something, anything that could bring the pair back, and as he looked around the room his lingering eyes rested on Sho.
He was standing up.
“Jan, you got…to get out…” Ryo stopped his warning as he noticed that Sho’s energy was gone, leaving a extremely broken and damaged boy in it’s place. He looked like he was on the edge on death as he took all the strength he had to pick himself from the floor, and the blood from his mouth and injuries spilled onto the floor and his feet as he inched toward the pair.
“Claire…”
“Are you Steve?” Ryo asked, mostly positive that this was the boy that Chris spoke of. He took up a defense posture though, just in case.
“He’s gone…but I still feel him…in another…”
“Rydia…”
Steve finally lost the energy in his body and slumped towards the floor in unconsciousness. Ryo rushed towards him and managed to catch him in time before they both fell from the strain, but then his mind went blank at the thought of Rydia becoming like Sho.
And as the pain in his body suddenly became unbearable, he collapsed.
Aaaaagh~
This summer. This summer I’ll be able to work on my epilogue. XD;
flies off on an umbrella
Curley beat Xenosaga! w00t!
“Hey, Yuffie?” Jason started, trying to get the ninja out of her sudden mood. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer for the Carbon Bangle.”
“Huh? Oh right.” Was all Yuffie stated as she began fishing through her bag. Jason produced two Reverse Dolls from his PERC. “What’s with the second one? Cheap attempts like this to cheer me up aren’t appreciated!”
“Okay, but-”
“Though they are accepted.” She added, pulling out the Carbon bangle. Jason just rolled his eyes and finished his sentence.
“Okay, but one of these is for something else.” An annoyed looked on Yuffie’s face appeared. This however, was an improvement over her previously gloomy disposition. “I have one more trade I’d like to make.”
“What for?”
“Not much, just one Ether and one Potion. My world doesn’t have much in the way of magic or healing potions, so I’d like to bring at least one of each back home.”
“Okay, but just one doll for each of them? Come on, do you know how much potions cost? 500 gil! It’s hard to get that kind of money!”
“OI! Who do you honestly think you’re fooling?!” Yuffie ignored the non-believing stares coming from Jason and even Alma, who knew such items didn’t cost so much. “Alright, I’m out of the Dolls, but I think I got something to trade for a potion.” Sticking his hand in the PERC, Jason pulled out a small berry, and held it out with the Reverse Dolls.
“You’re giving me a little berry for my potion? And I’M the thief here?!”
“This is an Aquaberry.” The alchemist explained. “It’s about as potent as a potion, maybe a little moreso. And it’s cures you of poison.”
“That’s neat and all, but I can SELL this potion back home for money if I had to! What store would buy some mystery berry from me, huh? These aren’t really common in my world.”
“Okay, but just think. If you can farm these things and grow your own aquaberries, you can start your own business! There’s a lot more money to be made with this then a potion. If you play your cards right, that is.”
“Are you done eating yet?”
“Huh? Oh, Right. Yeah, I am.” Vader stated, his form that of the Neanderdog.
“Alright, I’m gonna head out.” Jason proclaimed to the others. “Thank’s for the stuff Yuffie.”
“No problem. Bye Jason!” The young shinobi shouted, Mint and Alma stating their goodbyes soon after.
“Bye you three!” Jason shouted back as he walked off. After a few minutes of wandering, Jason asked his canine friend a question. “Any clue who we should look for first?”
“Maybe some Elemental stuff?” Vader suggested. “The professor’s already seen Materia before, so you should probably see about new magics. Ky’s sword is electric, right?”
“That’s right, I can get the Yellow Element from his Fuuraiken… Hey, wait!” Stoppping for a moment from their trek, Jason reached into his bag and pulled out a long thin blade that widened at the hilt. It’s silvery metal seemed almost transparent under the light of the sun. “I forgot all about this. It’s the Fuusuiken that Ky told me to hold onto back when we fought the ninja in Nantos. It’s water based so…”
He eagerly sunk the blade into the ground and put his hands on the hilt. “Anyone around…? Good.” Eyeing a warning to Vader, the young man waited till his friend’s eye’s were shut. “Here we go…”
“That voice sound’s familiar.” Ky thought. Up to now, he had been resting, enjoying the serenity of the island. Though now the voices had caught his curiousity. Walking in the direction the voices had come, Ky had arrived on the scene just in time… to get caught in the light of the Element drawing.
“Yeargh~~~! Too bright!”
“Huh?” Jason thought as he finished the drawing. “Aw crap. What is this, the fourth time this has happened?”
“He’s over here, Jason.” Vader called out, holding his paw up in the direction of some large brush. Walking through the plants, Jason found the holy swordsman rubbing his eyes painfully.
“Heh. Well, whadd’ya know. I’d say ‘speak of the devil’, but he might take that offensively.” The fanboy thought, walking over to the stunned Ky. “You okay?”
Jason accepts the Carbon Bangle trade, and is offering an Aquaberry and another Reverse Doll for an Ether and a potion. This will also have to be the last trading segment, since I have to finish up my plans with Jason for this tournament.
Jason has also aquired the Blue Element from the Fuusuiken.
Bah. Can’t think of anything right now. Yuffie will trade in a Potion and Ether for the Aquaberry and Reverse Doll. I’ll try to edit this into a story post later.
Part one of a loooooooong afterparty sequence…
Where…do I go from here?
Opera rubbed her forehead above her third eye, and forced herself to keep walking. She didn’t know where she was going, or why, but she needed to keep moving, doing something. Because she had the feeling that if she stopped, if she sat down, the weight of her jumbled thoughts and feelings would overwhelm her completely. And she didn’t want to find out if she had any more tears left in her to cry.
*I’ve thought about it all so much that my brain is starting to ache. Almost as much as my heart does. I can barely think at all anymore…I’m so burnt out on it. I don’t have any answers, only the feelings that just won’t go away. And I can’t begin to figure out what they are, let alone do something about them. It doesn’t help me any that I know how little time is left, and how much there is to think about, and the fact that I’m losing the ability to coherently do so just makes me panic more. That just results in me trying to force myself to think, which makes things worse…and brings on yet more panic. It’s a horrible cycle…if only I could calm myself down, but…
…no. Not now. Of all the people I could run into, why him, why now? As though I need to feel more confused, more…whatever this is. Oh Tria, help me get through this…please.*
Opera swallowed hard, just looking at Vincent. He didn’t say anything, just gazed intensely back at her. Silence reigned for a couple minutes, then Opera finally got up the nerve to say something.
“H-hello, Vincent,” Opera managed, inwardly cursing the stammer that had somehow managed to find its way into her voice.
Vincent nodded in acknowledgement. “Good evening, Opera.”
*Good evening…ha. I can’t remember the last time I had one of those.
…
…No. Not going there.*
“How…how have you been?” Opera asked, trying desperately to ignore everything going on inside her at that moment and keep the conversation light. Keep it away from things she was oh so tired of thinking about.
“Drained… ready to go back…” Vincent paused for a moment. “And yourself?”
“I’ve been…” Opera swallowed again, and took a deep breath. Steady now, Opera, don’t lose composure now, she reminded herself before continuing. “All right…” She hesitated, then laid her energy rifle and bag on the ground and took a step towards him. “You’ll be okay? After…” She trailed off, cursing inwardly at herself for bringing it up on her own without any prompting.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID!
Vincent nodded a moment, then paused slightly before replying. “I will be fine…” He paused again. “Have you been…well? No harm from battles or…”
“No, no harm…I’m…well.”
Yes, just keeping telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll start to believe it. Maybe.
Vincent must have sensed her uncertainty and the fact that she wasn’t telling him everything, because he stayed quiet and just watched her, his expression unreadable. Her heart began a rapid plummet into her stomach as she realized that she couldn’t run away from this…that she’d better face it now while she had the chance. She took another step towards him to begin doing so.
“Look, about what…that is…” She paused and closed her eyes for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. Then she opened them and looked directly into his. “Please, do me one favor…don’t feel so awful about…anything. You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. I mean that.”
Blunt, yes. But I don’t have time for beating around the bush, now do I?
Vincent didn’t say anything at first, just watching her carefully. Then he spoke. “…When you go back, Opera, what do you go back to?”
Something I’m so very unprepared to face. Or should I say someone? Either works, as there’s also the final battle to look…forward to. Neither one sounds as appealing as, let’s face it, standing here with you. I might as well admit that to myself, if no one else. Because I’m sick of lying to myself.
“I…” Opera took a few breaths, but it didn’t help, as she still sounded almost ready to cry when she next spoke. “I go back to a battle for the sake of many worlds…one that could very well kill me.”
And someone I’ve betrayed, and am even now betraying with the way I’m feeling. I don’t know which I’m more scared of, to be honest.
Vincent nodded and closed his eyes. “As do I…” He paused, then opened his eyes back up to look at Opera directly. “But what I meant is…what keeps you in battle, not giving up and laying your weapon down?”
Good question. It used to be Ernest, but I don’t know anymore. There’s so much I don’t know anymore…
“I…I guess…because I want to live, keep on living.” Well, there’s that too, Opera reminded herself as she paused. “I don’t know, I’ve never stopped to really think about it.”
That’s true in a way…I never stopped to give it any real thought, just assumed. I had more important things to dwell on, after all.
Vincent just nodded, and looked down a moment before looking back up at Opera. Ignoring the way her heart fluttered at his penetrating scarlet gaze, she attempted to shift the conversation’s focus from herself to him.
“What…about you? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking…”
And he probably does. Oh well.
“…Because I owe it to her…nor is it like I have a choice in the matter.” Opera’s heart ached at the sorrowful resignation in his voice.
“Her…” Opera’s face looked as sad as Vincent’s voice sounded. “Vincent, don’t…that is…please, don’t let it eat you up inside. I’m not going to pretend I know more about life, I just…don’t want to see you keep suffering like this.”
Blunt again. Well, I don’t have the patience nor the time for not saying what I really think or feel, not if I know how I want to phrase it. That is, if I happen to know exactly what it is I’m thinking and feeling.
Vincent was silent for moment, then spoke, though it wasn’t what she expected him to say. “…Do you have a loved one, Opera?”
Do I? That’s a toughie, Vin. Though you have no idea just how tough.
“I…” Opera’s lower lip trembled before she could control it. “I have friends, and family…and…and I don’t know anymore.”
A very tough question indeed.
Vincent looked Opera directly in the eyes. “If they mean something to you…let them know.” He paused. “I do not want you to suffer the same fate as I.”
That’s the exact opposite of the problem I have!
Opera lowered her head, unable to look at him for the moment. “That’s just it…I have let someone know. But…it doesn’t seem to be enough. Or perhaps it’s too much. Maybe…he was right when he said Ernest was running away from me…”
Vincent raised an eyebrow as Opera glanced up at him. Dropping her gaze back down, she took a deep breath and continued. “Ernest…left without telling me where he was going, or even that he was going. I had to hear it from someone else. I had to ask them…they didn’t come to me with the information. And so I ran after him…”
I’m so tired of running…
Vincent’s voice was soft as he spoke again. “I am sorry…”
Oh god, don’t do that…why do you have to…sound more sincere than Ernest’s half-assed apology when I found him on Expel? Why does it have to have such an effect on me? I…no, no…don’t want to cry…I hate this…
Opera lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with tears that she was struggling to hold back. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I just…I…I know he cares, but…it just…hurts when he does things like that.”
More than I can possibly express…
Vincent just watched Opera for a minute, not doing anything. Then he stepped right up to her, and held out a bit of his cloak to her, to wipe her eyes on, obviously, and spoke. “It is never easy…”
…Damn it. You’re not making this any easier…do you have any idea how long it’s been since Ernest showed so much concern for my feelings? No, of course you don’t…you have no idea what you’re doing to me…hell, I’m not even sure myself. I just know that it’s something that manages to feel both good and painful at the same time.
Opera just stared at Vincent for several seconds. Then, as though it were something completely natural to do, she stepped forward and embraced him, her whole body trembling with the force of the emotions overwhelming her at that moment. “I…I just don’t know what to do anymore…I’m so scared…I almost don’t want to go back…I don’t want to die, I don’t want to face him like this…” Her voice caught in her throat as she trailed off.
Vincent went absolutely rigid for a minute. Then he slowly slid his arms around Opera, returning the embrace. “You will not die if you do not think you will…” He paused for a moment. “At one point or another, we have to face what hurts us most…I ran away from mine, and I regret it. Do not make the same mistake, Opera…”
Running…that’s all I’ve ever done. Away from some things, towards others. Never finding happiness either way. And I…am so tired of it…
A few tears slipped down Opera’s face as she finally allowed herself to start crying. “But…but…I just…I’m not sure of anything anymore…what am I going to say? How do I feel? What kind of person am I? If we both survive…then what? What happens next? I have so much to sort out, and I don’t even know how much time I have.”
Just that it’s not enough.
Vincent didn’t say anything to that, but slowly brought his hand up to the back of Opera’s head, in an attempt to comfort her. Opera trembled slightly at the contact, then continued. “I’m just so confused…and afraid…”
Possibly of my own feelings most of all.
Vincent spoke softly as he slowly stroked the back of her head. “We all have that moment…”
Opera’s body relaxed a little, though her breathing was somewhat uneven, much to her chagrin. “I need more time…time to figure out things about me, about what to say…I’m not prepared at all.” Vincent just nodded, the movement visible from the corner of her eyes, and took a deep breath as he kept gently stroking Opera’s hair.
“These past few days have been…that is…they’ve given me a lot of things to think about. Things I probably should have thought about before. Problem is…I’m going back before I’m done.”
I don’t know if I’ve even begun, really.
“This certainly has been quite the experience…” Vincent replied in the same soft voice.
To put it mildly…
“I…know how weird this’ll sound, all things considered…but I’m not likely to forget it.”
Though I probably still won’t remember a certain part of it. Opera sighed inwardly at the thought.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Opera saw Vincent close his. “Neither am I.”
*But most of all…there’s no way I could ever forget you. Not now. Question is, do I let you know that?
…
…Oh, what the hell? I’m probably not going to get a second chance, so might as well say it now and be done with it. It’s one of the few things I know for sure…*
Opera took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering up all the courage she had inside of her right now. “Nor am I likely to forget you…”
There, I said it. Ball’s in your court now, Vinny.
Vincent kept his closed as he answered her. “It has been…an experience I will not forget, Opera.”
…Silly me to hope, though I’m not sure I should have, that you’d return my sentiments. What a fool I am.
“I’m not ready to go back…I just can’t…not now.” Opera was ready to cry again, and it showed in her voice.
Vincent said nothing, just stroked her hair again, and brought her in ever so slightly closer to him, trying to soothe her. Opera felt her breathing grow more unsteady, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.
“I…I want…I…I don’t know what I want anymore…I just know that I don’t want to go back yet…” Don’t want to let go of you…
Vincent nodded, and let his hand rest on Opera’s hair. “It is best just to take your time…”
Believe me…if I could, I would.
Opera leaned into him a bit, barely realizing what she was doing. “I want to…but I don’t know how much time I have…that’s what scares me…”
That and how good this feels.
Vincent went stiff again for a moment, before relaxing. “Time is something to be cherished if you think it deserves it…”
Trust me…I know. Perhaps better right now than I ever did before.
“It does,” Opera agreed. “I need it…I have so little of it, and so much to think about…”
Vincent’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “Then you know you will not waste it…”
Ha. I’ve already wasted some of it…I’ve accomplished nothing thus far.
“But what if…what if I end not being able to get what I need out of it?”
Hell, do I even know for sure what it is I truly need right now, besides time?
Vincent was quiet at first as he slowly brought his fingers up to gently massage Opera’s hair. “Do not let that happen, then…”
I wish it were as easily done as said.
“I’ll try my best, but…I may not have any say in it in the end…” Opera sighed inwardly. Vincent just nodded, still applying gentle pressure to her head. Trying not to think about how her body was reacting to this, she kept talking. “I’ve never…ever had to deal with anything like this before. Never had to stop and think about what’s going through my mind right now…it never even occurred to me that I might have to. How am I, then, supposed to figure out all the answers in so short a time?”
Especially when being in this…position…does little to help me think clearly about it all. Does nothing, actually…at least when we’re talking thought process-beneficial things. Other effects, though…
“…I can’t. I just can’t.” Opera started to cry again, her emotions beginning to overwhelm her once more.
Vincent wrapped his arms a little tighter around Opera, further hampering her ability to think clearly about the situation. “Perhaps…it is a chance to see what you really want…”
“But…what if I leave only to find that what I really want is…” Opera’s voice trailed off, her eyes widening slightly, and she took a deep breath. “That…that is…I…”
Oh dear god, where did THAT come from?! I…it just slipped out…I wasn’t even thinking…just spoke without considering what I was saying…humans have a term for what I just did, but I can’t remember it, not at a time like this…oh god, how do I follow that up?
Vincent just looked silently down at her, waiting. Opera stared back at him, willing herself to think of something, anything, to say. Finally she mustered up her nerve and attempted to cover up her near-slip. “What if…what if I really want…is not what I have waiting for me? What if I’ve been fooling myself all this time, by staying where I don’t belong?”
That IS highly likely…and I have been thinking a lot about that…so it’s not a bad save at all.
It was a few seconds before Vincent replied. “…Go with what you feel with the pit of your stomach, not what your mind thinks.”
At this point, feeling is really all I CAN do. Thinking is a little beyond my capabilities right now. And by a little, I mean far beyond.
“…Mostly I just feel sick,” Opera admitted. “And…” She swallowed.
“…Yes?” Vincent looked expectantly down at her.
“And…” Opera’s breathing quickened, and she knew that he’d have to notice it now, if he hadn’t before. “I…don’t know how to say this…”
Or how you’ll react…
Vincent said nothing, just looked down at Opera.
…Now or never. I might as well say it…there’s no way around it now.
Opera closed her eyes and leaned her head against Vincent. “…I like this. And I enjoyed…well…” She trembled a little. “Just what kind of person am I if I’m feeling these things? For someone other than the one waiting for me?”
*For you. And furthermore, what kind of person am I that I…
I…
…want you to feel the same way about me…*
No, this isn’t the end…only the beginning. 
Mwaha. >=D Your turn, Kell!
Next up!
*Opera closed her eyes and leaned her head against Vincent. “…I like this. And I enjoyed…well…” She trembled a little. “Just what kind of person am I if I’m feeling these things? For someone other than the one waiting for me?”
I
.know too true of what you so speak of.*
Vincent for the first time in over thirty years could not contain the rapid beat in his chest. Only mere minutes ago, he was on his way back to the Planet, back to finding out what happened to Cloud. To Sephiroth. And then back to finding what he purpose he had being near her caverns and ice.
Now, he found himself in an embrace with a woman who could not contain her own feelings, and seemed to be breaking down to the point of tears. And Vincent wanted to comfort her.
*You like her, Valentine.
Be quiet, Chaos.
No, I will just relax and let the drama unfold itself.*
Staying quiet to both Opera and Chaos, Vincent took a deep breath, and gently resumed stroking operas hair, trying the best he could to calm the three-eyed woman down and soothe her in any way possible
And tried to calm his shaking breath as well.
Vincent could feel Opera struggle for breath against his body, and she struggled to talk, trying not to let her voice fail her, How am I supposed to face him when I feel this way about someone else, someone I may never see again? Someone I just met?
Opera began to shiver in Vincents hold, and he tried not to pay attention to it, knowing she would not want him to know. Closing his eyes, Vincent remarked carefully, I do not know…
But you want to. And so does she.
Her voice staggered, and she didnt bother hiding the hoarse sound coming from her throat, I don’t know either…I don’t even know how I’m going to go back and see him when right now, I don’t want to go anywhere at all… She paused a moment, and tried to take a deep breath, but couldnt and her breath caught, And considering how far I chased him, that scares me…
Before Vincent had time to think about his actions, he drew Opera in closer to his body, wanting to calm her down and steady her breathing. He moved his hand into between her sculpted shoulder blades, feeling them easily against her snug dress, and he gently ran his hand down her back, trying to release pressure from her. He could feel Opera stagger for breath as she tried not to cry, Vincent just gently stroked in the middle of her shoulder blades and the small of her back, and said quietly, You are someone who has perhaps chased too long without knowing for sure…
*Ah, you are one to speak on that matter.
Do not ruin the moment I wish to hear nothing.
And deny myself the pleasure of seeing you relaxed for the first time in thirty years?
That is not your motive, and both you and I know that.*
Opera turned slightly in his grasped, squinted her eyes, and speak quietly, You…may be more right than you know, Vincent heard her breath draw in a faster pace than before, God, I…
Vincent thought he heard her give off an involuntary gasp, and she shuddered again in his arms, My heart is pounding, and my hands are trembling, and I don’t want to move, don’t want to be anywhere but where I am. Mere days ago, I only wanted to be by his side again, and now… Opera swallowed hard, the lump in her throat seemed to grow more than vanish, and Vincents breathing picked up as well, I dread facing him as much as I fear the enemy we’ll battle when we get back. What’s happened to me?
Vincent began to add pressure to his finger tips that ran up and down her back, and he tried to soothe her as much as possible. He glanced an eye up at the rest of the surrounding area, and noticed no one in the general vicinity of where he and opera stood, but could hear the music and sounds of a party at the same time. All of the volcanoes in the area seemed to surround him, and he liked the feeling.
Feeling Opera seemingly hiccup to breathe properly, Vincent kept stroking at her back, and Opera relaxed slightly.
*I feel as though I am having dj vu, Valentine. Care to inform me why I feel so?
Because I have done this before.
And even the volcanoes look like those mountains*
I do not know… Vincent started quietly, keeping his hand even up and down her back, Maybe you realized something you had not before…
And if I have…what do I do with the knowledge? Where do I go from here? She nearly whimpered, and he shook his head instead of shrugging his shoulders, and shifted slightly on his feet, keeping his hand still on Operas back, feeling her tremble slightly where his hand met her dress.
A moment passed, and Vincent gently started again kneading her back, That is up to you to decide.
What wonderful words of wisdom. I will make sure to remember such fine terminology.
Right now I just want to be exactly where I am…no matter how wrong it probably is to want that. Opera remarked quietly, and Vincent did the best he could not to go completely still, and hoped that she didnt notice.
*Well, you hear that Valentine? It seems as if something good is going to come from this.
It means nothing.
Do not fool yourself. She cares quite a lot for you.*
Vincent nodded his head slowly, and continued massaging Operas back, and he could feel her breathing slow down enough to where she could take in a deep breath and not have it stagger.
*Look how much she calms down after your touch. I wonder if she realizes what type of person is giving her such thoughts?
Everyone needs someone to help them through a time of need
Ah, but did you not use yours thirty years ago?*
This feels better than it should…I don’t want to go anywhere… Opera admitted quietly to Vincent, a slight flush forming on her cheeks, and Vincent tried hard to have his breathing catch, But I have to. Eventually. And I’m not ready. They’re…he’s…going to expect the same Opera that left, but I…I’m not who I used to be. How do I explain any of it?
By facing the facts, Vectra, and about time you be honest with yourself, and finally realize you have been nothing but a lap dog for dear Ern. Literally.
Trying hard not to snarl at Chaos, Vincent tightened up instead but immediately relaxed again, feeling Opera tense up when he did. She lifted her head to look at him, and he stared back, keeping his expression non-readable, and slowly dragged his hand up to her neck, gently squeezing at the base to relieve pressure. Operas eyes seemed to relax, and she brought her head down and gently rested her forehead against Vincents shoulder, inhaling slowly.
Vincent could feel the knots in Operas neck loosen somewhat, and he continued gently, I do not know… he started, feeling Opera take a sudden intake of air, It is your choice to be honest with him or not…
*Or stay here and find a private room with Rin Tin-Tin here.
Chaos*
Growling mentally, Vincent clenched his left arm a moment to release his own pressure, and head Opera give a shuddered breathe in his hold. Looking down at Opera, Vincent could faintly smell her hair, and he brought his hand under the hair on her neck, touching her bare skin and began rubbing again. He felt Opera go still a moment in surprise, her breathing cut off short by his touch.
And… Opera began, and Vincent could tell clearly she was having trouble breathing evenly, It doesn’t help that it hurts to feel this way for you, knowing we may never meet again…knowing it’s…that you…
Nearly snagging his own breathing, Vincent nodded slowly, and gently pushed on her neck to bring her head down to his shoulders, and he waited to listen to what she had to say next, trying to cover his own thoughts and not concentrate on where his hands where.
*You are holding her rather fondly, Valentine tell me, does she have the same build as she?
Do not torment with that now, Chaos. Not now
I am in question as to why your heart is spinning as fast as it did when you first met Lucrecia.
You do not know th-
On the contrary, Valentine, I know exactly.*
Opera started to tremble, and much more than she had before, I…do you even…the way I’m feeling right now… Her voice was strained as if she was ready to cry, and she squinted her eyes, but not before a tear left her cheek and landed on Vincents shoulder.
Her rapid breathing continued as Vincent used his thumb and finger tips to ease out the pressure from Operas neck, and he said quietly, Opera… of anything I could…
*No. I
Well?
Chaos, I have*
Sighing deeply, Vincent lowered his head slightly, and brought his cheek to the left side of Operas head, and gently rested his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes and letting out another sigh.
have
Opera spoke calmly, and something in Vincent skipped, Just…just don’t…let go. I know it’s wrong of me to want this, but I…just want to stay like this.
Vincent felt Operas arms hesitantly slip to his hip, and he squinted his eyes, leaning his cheek a little more into Operas hair. His hand slipped back down to her lower back, and Vincent gently pulled Opera in closer to him, and she responded to his will, while he went back to gently running his hand down her back.
She tightened her arms against him for the moment, speaking softly, I just want to stay here…
*In a land of volcanoes?
That looks like a terrain of mountains.
Which could have very well been volcanoes*
Opera started to tremble heavier than what she had before, and she pressed herself against Vincent to steady herself. He brought up his left arm for the first time, and gently laid it across the back of her shoulder, keeping his fingers away from her skin and dress, not wanting to cut her. Making his right hand a little more firm, Vincent stroke Operas back, and feeling her tremble drop but her breathing pick up a little faster than what it had been before.
Opera calmed herself enough to let out a long, drawn out sigh, and spoke softly, I don’t want to be anywhere but here…
TO BE CONTINUED