Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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More people began to pack the little square around them, filling up the benches as people moved about, preparing to begin the show. Angeal did his best to attempt to glean what the show was about from people’s conversations around him, or the brief glimpses of things he saw backstage as the curtain moved to and fro. He didn’t gain much, however, and it slowly began to dawn on him that the show might not be overly kid friendly.
Surely that wouldn’t be the case though, right? The show was in the middle of the square … There were other families around. Hewley swallowed the unease he felt, hoping that Rosa wouldn’t worry about them for how long they’d been away, or chastise him for taking them to the show.
Besides, it wasn’t like it could be as depressing as Loveless.
There was another odd feeling itching at him, though. Angeal frowned, his hand stilling as he was about to chastise Andrei for rocking on the bench too much. He furrowed his brows, his attention falling away from the children as the same strange sensation flooded through his veins. As if he were being pulled to something. Curious, Angeal turned his head, searching the crowd. The feeling wasn’t unlike being watched, but it was more. It stirred something within him. Something he’d felt when he accidentally created a clone out of the griffon that attacked him in the desert.
His glowing-eyed gaze landed on an individual hidden in the back of the square -- but only for a moment. Only enough to see the dark coat and silvery hair, much, much too short. The play began, and Angeal ripped his stare from the strange man and toward the stage, his mind beginning to race.
The show was a distraction, and a very welcome one at that. Hewley buried the odd feeling deep, where he locked away other such fleeting emotions he didn’t have the time to deal with. Though his shoulders stayed tense, he bounced little Jean on his knee to keep him entertained as the show began, and a beautiful and strange world opened to them all.
What unfolded was, truly, a work of art. The actors and actresses were clearly very invested in their craft as they told their story, so beautifully tragic. It was something Genesis would have greatly enjoyed, Angeal lamented to himself as he watched the lead actress, the leader of the Fae. Her voice never wavered despite all the eyes on her, strong and ethereal and sad.
Even the kids were enraptured by the performance. Victoria sobbed softly over the deaths of the various cast members, while Andrei silently cheered for all the battles and blood. Luca watched in awe, gasping as things took him by surprise. Jean, well, he fell asleep halfway through, but that was just as welcome of a reaction. The kids eagerly stood and clapped and hollered as the performance ended, and the cast came out to take their final bows. Angeal applauded eagerly as well, as much as he could with a sleeping toddler set up against his frame as Jean wasn’t even bothered by the noise.
With the play over, the crowd began to disperse. The strange feeling Angeal had managed to bury before the performance came back, pulling stronger as he moved about the crowd with the kids. His gaze looked past the gaggle of bodies, zeroing in on the individual that seemed to be causing the sensation.
Was it something he should avoid? If it was trouble, he needed to. He had children with him, and the Buster Sword was back at the orphanage. Not that he needed the sword to defend himself -- Angeal was just as capable at hand-to-hand combat as he was with a weapon, if not more-so -- but with the crowds, the kids, the collateral damage could be too high.
Besides, what would he say? Hey, why do you make me feel uneasy? Not exactly an excellent starter to a conversation.
What if it was all in his head?
A blessing in disguise reared itself. At the edge of the square was a cart selling food, close enough to the stranger that Angeal could speak with him while keeping watch on the children. He readjusted Jean in his arms, grabbing some gil from his pocket and stopping the kids from going any further.
“I promised you food afterwards,” Angeal reminded them, Andrei immediately lighting up with excitement. He handed equal amounts among the three kids, before handing one extra portion to Andrei, “You can each have one thing from the food cart, alright? But you have to get something for Jean too, because I imagine he won’t be asleep for much longer. Can I trust you to do that?”
Luca and Victoria nodded, smiling and as obedient as ever. Andei, cheeky as he was, flashed a missing-tooth grin -- at least, until Angeal put Jean in his arms. Then came the pout, an eldest trademark when responsibility found him.
“I’ll be right here,” Angeal motioned to the bench next to the food cart, only mere steps from the man who was propped up against a light post, “So behave, please.”
The kids excitedly chatted amongst themselves as the Soldier took his few steps away, glancing to keep an eye on them. They were all too used to being very independent for their age. Orphans didn’t have parents to do things for them. They’d all learned, one way or another, how to do things for themselves, even as young as they were. It was a painful realization … that the children would never be just kids. All Angeal could do was hope to be a good impression on them, a father figure they’d sorely lacked, for what little time he was in Torensten.
But, for his few short moments of freedom, he needed to turn his attention elsewhere.
The silver-haired man lurked nearby, having not dispersed with the rest of the crowd. Again, Angeal tried to identify the strange sensation he felt, the way it made his shoulder itch where wings could, and would be. He felt … concerned. Confused.
Opening up the conversation could lead to more than was worth bargaining for. But, if he didn’t, how much would he regret it?
With open space between them, a good few feet, Angeal knew his voice would carry. Unless he was wrong about the man’s body language, he too had sensed he would be called out. He wasn’t sure what to say, but the words came of their own accord -- latching onto that strange feeling of familiarity.
“Do I know you?”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
When her eyes met his own, there was a hesitation. A shyness he hadn’t seen in her for the majority of the night. Cissnei glanced away from him, his blue eyes no longer reflected in her brown, and fidgeted at the tie that bound them nervously. Red dusted the edges of her cheeks, and Angeal let his smile drop to a more neutral expression. Her reaction … wasn’t what he expected. The Soldier wondered what he’d done wrong or differently now that they hadn’t been doing to each other all night long. The teasing, the companionship, the flirtation. He’d had fun. They were still having fun.
Or maybe they weren’t.
“As much of a date as any of this has been, I guess,” Angeal murmured, letting the Turk handle the silky bonds that held them together. Loop by loop the garment fell away, freeing their respective hands and wrists. It felt strange without that heat, that shape that had been in his palm all night. Angeal looked down to his empty hand, flexing his fingers and closing his hand around the nothingness.
Throughout the night, the Soldier had finally felt less alone in this strange, little world. A brief glimmer of hope that, if one of the Turks was there, so was everyone he cared about. However, as Cissnei led the way toward the bonfire outside, Angeal couldn’t help but feel that cold, detached loneliness begin to creep back into his heart.
They’d completed their mission and won the event. That’s … all it was, wasn’t it?
No, Angeal thought to himself, glancing at the sky above them for a moment, This isn’t Shinra. It wasn’t a mission. It was …
He was just looking for company.
Following Cissnei, Angeal took a seat near the bonfire as well. The ending of the event was cozy, benches for all to share, treats and drinks under a darkened sky. The Soldier took a glass of champagne when it was offered, thanking the waiter that brought them over. It was a dainty little flute, something he’d be finished with in two sips most likely, so he bought time by eating the little heart-shaped strawberry that it came with. That pasta-eating competition felt like forever and a half ago.
The atmosphere was, at least, the most relaxed it had been all night. The temperature was just cool enough to tempt the couples close to the fire, but comfortable enough to still move about. Not that Hewley needed the warmth of the fire -- he always ran hot. The Soldier glanced over to his former-partner, feeling that their time together for the evening would soon be coming to an end.
“We don’t have to stop having a good time,” Angeal spoke, fiddling with the dainty glass in his hands, “Just because the competition is over. Turk or not, serious or not, I had a good time tonight.”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
From behind the dune, they were safe to observe the nest and converse about their next move. Angeal considered what he knew about griffons from his own experiences with the beasts outside of Midgar. They tended to be stronger enemies that fought hard with sharp beaks and even sharper claws. With access to a bit of magic and attacks with their wings, they were hardly a foe to be underestimated. The Soldier scratched his chin as he considered their options.
“I don’t think a full-frontal attack is wise,” the Soldier uttered, the battle strategy forming in his mind as the information pieced itself together. Having another warrior by his side felt more natural -- like he was commanding a fellow on the battleground, “Griffons are naturally smart and very aggressive. The ones back on my world are also capable of barrier magic, if they have the time to activate it.”
It would make an already difficult fight even harder. They needed to ambush the creatures, preferably from more than one side. Caius did have magic of his own, though, and they could easily use that to their advantage.
“I’ll flank around the back,” Angeal nodded, motioning his path with one gloved hand, “Give me about sixty seconds. Use whatever magic you have to hit the nest, and I’ll take the back half in the chaos. The others will be startled, but they’ll still come seek you out. Move in when you can, and we’ll stick together.”
He was really counting on Caius’s brute strength. There were between 10 to 15 Griffons in the roost; too many for one man, and hopefully not too many for two. Whatever power Caius had, Angeal would simply have to believe in him.
Surely the blonde wasn’t suicidal.
With their plan formed, Angeal moved quickly along the dune, heading toward the back to flank the beasts. He knew, once he heard the bird’s startled cries, it would be time to strike.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Mu was quick to take over interrogating their suspect. The man hardly squirmed underneath Angeal’s tight grasp, still catching his breath as his body recovered from the impact of the Soldier’s hit. The perpetrator was well aware he wouldn’t be able to get away, not easily at all. Not with two of them there to keep him pinned until all of his truths were spilled.
At first, the man didn’t want to tell why he’d been clearly threatening the woman who was still sitting there, watching the events unfold. However, as Angeal placed more pressure against the man’s back, and Mu’s stare practically bore a hole in the man’s consciousness, the guilty party broke. The woman owed him money? Angeal narrowed his glowing eyes at the back of the man’s head.
However, the truth was even more sinister and complex. She owed him money because she’d bought a gun from him to protect her family. A gun that didn’t work. So she never paid.
It sounded all too much like the slums of Midgar. Angeal frowned, wondering for a moment if he truly was in a different world. Or, if they were all the same.
Mu seemed to want to collect his thoughts on the matter though, and Angeal sighed. He loosened his grip on the man -- not enough to let him be free, but enough to stop squeezing the life out of him -- before glancing at the woman, “You can’t protect yourself from crime with crime. You’re only feeding into the cycle.”
Still, the man did threaten her life. He, at least, needed to be detained by the authorities. Angeal looked back to Mu, before gesturing at their captive with a nod, “Are there any police here we could take him to? If he’s willing to kill over a bad sale, something tells me he doesn’t need to be on the streets.”
As for the woman … What could he say? From the sounds of it, she just wanted to keep her family safe. Were the streets of this city really that dangerous? Was there no one there, to take care of the people?
If Angeal thought he was stressed before he crash landed in Torensten, he had no idea what else had been coming for him.
The orphanage kept him quite a bit busier than he expected it would. Which was only fair, of course, he owed so much to Rosa for taking him and giving him a place to wait out the never-ending storms. She was caring for kids of all ages, and despite her kind and angelic presence and persistence, the Soldier could tell it was wearing her down. She’d never admit it, of course, and she would never call them or her duties a burden. But, Angeal could see the exhaustion hidden in her eyes. He’d seen it in his own mother’s gaze, all those many, many years ago, when he and Genesis had been too rambunctious for their own good when his father was out at sea.
So, he offered to take a few of the kids out for the day. Normally, they used him as a jungle gym inside, but there was no reason he couldn’t take them out for a little trip. Angeal Hewley was no father himself, but he was comfortable taking care of kids. After all, his dearest friends were a lot like giant children themselves. He had a stern voice and a kind demeanor, and the type of personality that said just abuse me, apparently.
They melted his heart, though. Andrei was a rough and tumble eight year old, lanky and too-tall for his age, missing a couple of front teeth with his dark mop hair all tussled. Victoria stayed loyally by his side, a shy six year old girl who took his hand if he began to walk too quickly. Her hair was done in a beautiful braid, completed by Rosa’s patient hand, dressed in a hand-me-down dress just a little too big for her. Running ahead with Andrei was Luca, the ever anxious follower, his tousled brown hair becoming unruly in the wind as he complained for Andrei to slow down.
And, of course, little Jean. The three year old sat high atop his place on Angeal’s broad shoulders, giggling at the others, one hand twisted around Angeal’s collar and the other impatiently tugging on his hair. Thankfully the Soldier was anything but tender-headed, as he needed all of his focus on the two kids running ahead of them.
“Andrei! Luca! Stay close,” he warned the boys in a stern voice as Victoria’s hand grasped his again, “If you two run off on your own, we’re all in trouble.”
The two spunky rugrats, thankfully, ran back toward him as they pitifully played tag with one another. It wasn’t as fun without a bigger group, but there were only so many kiddos Hewley could handle at once. It was going to be difficult enough to find something they could all enjoy together. With the two boys being older, and Victoria being as shy as she was, they didn’t quite all mesh well enough together. Angeal sighed, readjusting the toddler on his shoulders who pointed and this-and-that endlessly and occasionally dribbled on his head.
Well, if anything, at least the kids distracted him from his own problems. Here, working at the orphanage with Rosa, he wasn’t Angeal Hewley, the 1st Class Soldier. He was simply … Angeal, the man, the helper. The Buster Sword sat safely out of children’s reach back at the orphanage, hidden in the rafters. His typical Soldier uniform was being patched up by Rosa, and he could only procure some simple clothes to wear in the meantime. A pair of worn, durable working pants, and a simple, dark button up shirt. They meshed well enough with his army boots, and for the most part, he appeared a normal man for the first time in many years.
If it weren’t for the glowing eyes, that was. And the kids all being aware that he was capable of having two giant wings sprout out of his back.
They walked along the streets for a bit, giving the kids a chance to wear out some of their energy. Angeal didn’t want to take the kids too terribly far, lest he get a disappointed stare from Rosa either. The people of Torensten were generally kind, thankfully, and thought nothing of the rambunctious kids and their caretaker, offering a wave or a laugh here and there. Just as he was beginning to think there were no nearby parks or activities nearby, a tug came to his sleeve.
Victoria, her bright blue eyes wide and curious, pointed over in the direction of a few benches, set around a small stage, “What’s that, Mister Angie?”
Angeal blinked, tilting his head as he considered it. It looked like … Perhaps, a little stage for performing? As the group drew a little closer, they came upon a sign, announcing the show times.
“I think it’s a play,” the Soldier answered, as he turned his attention to the kids, “Looks like a performance is going to start soon. Would you all like to watch?”
The boys, of course, shrugged and didn’t really give a committal answer. Victoria, however, nodded her head aggressively. And well, Jean was too young to really care either. Angeal hummed, steering his little posse toward the benches. He kept Andrei to his right, and made sure to set Luca on the other side of Victoria on his left. Otherwise, the two would pick at each other the entire performance. Carefully, he plucked Jean from his shoulders and set the toddler on his right leg.
The performance wasn't due to start for a bit, still, but it was good for the kids to settle down. Well, as much as kids ever did. Instead of peaceful silence, Angeal was treated to a game of never-ending questions from the children, most of which he didn’t know the answer to.
“Where are we?” “Torensten.” “What’s the show about?” “I’m not sure.” “Can we go yet?” “No. The show is going to start soon, I promise.” “I’m hungry!” “We’ll get food after!”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Angeal is dumb and doesn't think anyone would want to help him
Angeal closed his eyes as the rain continued to pour down on top of him. His body ached too much to move, and he truly lacked the energy to keep his eyes open. No matter how hard he’d crashed, no matter how much he was bleeding, it would all be for naught. Nothing so simple could kill him, one of Shinra’s monsters. The urgency he’d felt initially to get up and fly away slipped through the Soldier’s mental grasp as he sighed, his breathing slow. Each breath was painful, keeping him just on the cusp of truly passing out.
The patter of hard rain blocked out the sounds of footsteps. Perhaps, if he’d heard them, he would have found the energy to rise and run, just as he’d been doing for days on end. However, it wasn’t until he felt some sort of warmth that Angeal began to realize he may not have been alone. A fleeting feeling moved through his body, taking away the edge of the aches and pains and restoring a little bit of his lost energy. The Soldier groaned, shifting in the mess of planks and wood he’d made during his crash. His eyes flickered opened, gaze initially only on the sky until he heard a voice.
Hello? Can you hear me?
Angeal sat up, wincing in pain and gritting his teeth to keep from making a ruckus. He stared forward a moment, blinking his glowing, blue eyes to clear out the blurred images before him. As the scene came into focus he saw a blonde woman, dressed in a soaked, black cloak, leaning over him. The Soldier opened his mouth, but initially, no response came out. Instead, his gaze fell, seeing the small crowd located behind the woman. A group of children, staring at him in a mixture of curiosity, concern, and wonder.
An icy fear gripped Angeal’s heart in that instant. All of those little eyes, staring at a monster half-dead in an alleyway. He turned his eyes back to the blonde woman, wondering if she was the one who had given him just enough energy to wake back up. However, curiosity quickly gave way to panic as he attempted to sit up further -- to put distance between himself and the woman with her children.
“Yes, I’m --,” Angeal hissed in pain as he moved his legs, getting his weight back underneath of himself as he attempted to stand. He pressed himself against the stone wall of the structure in the alley, slowly bringing himself to his feet. The Soldier took a few quick, harsh breaths to fight back the pain in his extremities, “I’m sorry. I’ll be -- be on my way. You and the kids should … get out of the rain.”
The words came out weakly, strained by the exhaustion of no sleep for days on end. Angeal folded his wings as close to his back as he could, not wanting to potentially terrify the children anymore than he already had with his presence. Behind him he spied his sword, laying pathetically in the busted boxes, soaked by the rain. However, as Angeal turned to approach the Buster Sword and rescue it from its place on the ground, he stumbled, losing what little energy he’d had to move coherently. He threw his gloved hands against the wall to catch himself, but still fell to one knee, breathing raggedly as he cursed inwardly.
He needed to get out of there … He’d already inconvenienced a kind woman and her gaggle of children. Angeal stared at the concrete under his boots, his dark hair plastered to his face. Logically, he knew he was in no condition to fly anywhere out of view of other people. The wind howled, and the sky lit up with nearby lightning. There would be nowhere outdoors that would be safe for him …
Should he just let the storm claim him? Or should he stand strong and protect the little flame that still burned inside his heart -- the one that wanted to live, and make things right?
His arms trembling with the effort to keep himself upright, Angeal turned his gaze back to the blonde woman. Something inside of him was finally giving way; a dam crumbling, and releasing his humanity, his pride.
“Is there anywhere … I could go?” He asked her quietly over the rain. The Soldier didn’t want to be a burden to an already overburdened woman, taking care of children and soaked to the bone. She’d already woken him up, helped him in some way. But, maybe she knew of a shelter or something nearby.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Cissnei’s eyes came to meet his in an intense, yet playful glare. Angeal swallowed the lump in his throat, allowing the Turk to balance herself on his arm as she righted herself back onto the ground. For that moment, the game was all but forgotten as the red-head bore her eyes into his muscled arm. The Soldier scoffed and glanced away from her for a second, taking in the gaze from the other team. Their eyes were on him as well, despite the point they’d just gained.
Angeal’s fingers twitched as he realized he needed to stop stalling and let the game go on, but Cissnei appeared to have beat him to the paddles. She sank down low, bent perfectly at the waist as she scooped up the paddles into her hands, rising slowly with her dark eyes studying him intensely. It felt like a dare for him to drink in the sight -- like a cat that mewled to be petted, and then swatted your hand. The Soldier took his glowing-eyed glimpse, before taking his paddle back.
Let’s finish this. Right, so we can move onto the next torture.
The thought was in jest, of course. Contrary to all of his scoffing and blushing, Angeal was actually having the most … well, fun he’d had in quite some time. Since he’d arrived on Zephon for sure, but probably even before that. He never relaxed enough, despite everyone prodding him to.
Leave it to a Turk, to pull exactly what he needed out of him.
And more, apparently. The Soldier hadn’t paid Cissnei much mind when she put her hands together, but after a moment he felt … something flow through him. An energy he hadn’t had before. Angeal glanced to the red-head, surprised, but too energetic to question it. The ball came back toward them, and it was the last time it would be out of their hands.
The game went quickly with their combined teamwork. Angeal controlled himself, making sure to keep his movements more minute and to flow with Cissnei’s own fluid steps. Despite his urge to hit the ball as hard as he could, to watch it bounce off of the back wall and terrify the poor couple before them, the Soldier kept steady. He couldn’t help but laugh as they played though, a smile on his usually too-serious face, his brow relaxed.
All too soon, they’d won the game. Angeal placed his paddle down, his heart settling back into its normal rhythm as the other couple sulked. Cissnei smiled at him and, maybe for the first time that evening, he returned a beaming, honest smile in full. The attendants handed them their trinkets for winning, and good lord they couldn’t have been any cheesier. Chuckling, Angeal slipped the ping pong ball keychain into his pocket.
Maybe he’d clip it somewhere on his belt. Maybe.
“Of course I’m ready,” the Soldier answered quickly, still feeding on the excited energy from before. Goodness, was this how Zack felt all the time? No wonder he was always asking women out on dates, even at the worst of times. Not that it was the dating aspect he was enjoying -- no, it was the competition. And having someone with him that understood that drive for winning. Though they were still teasingly tied together with Cissnei’s soft tie, Angeal hardly felt the same shyness and embarrassment as he had earlier in the night.
His fingers kept winding their way in with hers, anyway.
Together, they walked to a pit that was filled with balloons. There were couples in there, picking up balloons and checking them out before setting them back down. The goal was to find the balloon with a heart on it.
Cissnei teased that she may finally let him go. Angeal raised an eyebrow to that statement, meeting her eyes with a smirk, “I don’t know, you seem pretty attached to me now.” He followed her strides into the balloon pit, and took a look around. There were balloons all around their feet; pink, white, red … If the point was to find a balloon with a heart on it, it would take too long to check them out one at a time. Angeal scratched at his chin with his free hand, before nudging Cissnei as a thought came to mind.
“I’ll get as many in the air as I can. You look for the right balloon and grab it,” he explained, knowing well that Cissnei was quick with her eyes and hands. That was the advantage they’d had in every little competition -- teamwork.
Angeal used his height and limbs to his advantage, kicking and throwing as many balloons into the air at once as he could. A shower of colorful balloons went over their head, and when he felt a tug on his left wrist, he knew the Turk had found her mark. He swung his arm while Cissnei darted to grab the balloon from the air effortlessly, back at his side easily in moments, a red balloon in hand. With one hand each and just enough pressure, the balloon popped in-between them, dropping the paper into Angeal’s hand. Stepping out of the balloon pit, the Soldier handed the paper over to the attendant and gained their prize.
With two tickets in hand, Angeal turned his glowing gaze to Cissnei, a bit of the boyish charm nipping at his heart again. He held the tickets out to the Turk, a small smile on his face as he asked, all too honestly and innocently, “If you're not too keen on letting me go yet ... Care to join me?”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Ever since the wings appeared, ever since the memories came flooding back to his mind, Angeal hadn’t been able to stop running. He landed occasionally, always making sure it was somewhere secluded where no one could see the monstrous wings sprouting from his back. Yet, he could never keep his boots on the ground long, becoming flustered and upset by the surging thoughts in his mind, the constant, guilty memories.
Genesis. Sephiroth. Zack. He’d abandoned them all, because he could no longer take the suffering.
It never took long for him to begin cursing himself and taking to the skies once more; a Soldier caught in an endless nightmare. In the air, his mind felt clearer. Angeal could process everything that he was -- a monster, a human experiment, a failed mentor and an even worse friend. But with the wind in his hair and nothing but blue and clouds as far as the eye could see, it somehow felt … lighter. He couldn’t focus on the past as long, when he was in the sky. Though his heart ached, though the flashes of those terrible memories passed through his mind -the tears spilling down Zack’s cheeks as Angeal took his last, shuddering breaths, no- they never lasted long.
It felt good to fly.
The earth represented reality, and everytime he landed to catch his breath, it reminded him. He gasped for air through the memories, of abandoning Sephiroth, of turning against Genesis, the truth about his birth, his mother’s dead body on the floor. The Buster Sword on his back felt like a farce. Why did it come back to him in the first place? Angeal felt like he was drowning as he fought the memories down, as he relived the pain. Was this some sort of Hell?
Exhausted, he took flight again and again. Angeal lost track of the time, the days, the direction. He flew high above the villages and towns, avoiding people for as long as he could. Hunger pried at his stomach. His mouth felt dry from dehydration. His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep. The only thing that kept him going was his experimental body; always keeping him on the cusp of living. The suffering was held at bay, the longer he flew. The less he slept. If he didn’t close his eyes, he couldn’t see their faces.
In a daze, the Soldier never saw the coming storm. The white clouds turned grey and angry. The wind began to whip and the rain fell heavily. Blearily, Angeal navigated the storm best he could, unable to see through the downpour in the clouds. The sky rumbled furiously, and lightning flashed. The wind pushed harder and harder, and Angeal felt what little control he had in the sky suddenly ripped from his hands. Knocked off balance, he tried to right himself, yelling out against the storm. The rain stung his face and the wind whipped him again and again.
He was torn from his safe space high in the sky and thrown down … down …
Crash.
Angeal landed amongst a lot of heavy crates stacked on the side of a building, leaving splintered planks in his wake. Barely conscious, he groaned in obvious pain, blood weeping from his cuts and scrapes. The rain still fell heavily around him, soaking him to the bone, plastering him to the concrete pavement. Blinking his glowing eyes, Hewley found it difficult to think straight, to will his body to move. His fingers twitched against the broken wood, his chest rose heavily with each gasping breath. His wings hung heavily under his body, soaked and white feathers askew.
He needed to get up … and leave, before anyone saw him. But it was …
Was it his sight that was blurry, or was it simply the rain? Were there voices, or were they all in his head?
Did he even want to get up at all?
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Caius seemed to immediately understand Angeal’s situation. It made him wonder, momentarily, just how common it was to run into other people like him. Offworlders. But, as the blonde spoke, he realized he should consider himself lucky. Despite the fact that he hadn’t found any of his close friends yet, he had run into someone he knew. Someone from the same world, who once looked at the same stars and knew the same names, who spoke in familiarity with him. Though they hadn’t really spoken much about their lonely place in a new world, Angeal had found a creature comfort in Cissnei’s presence.
He shuffled his boots along in the hot sand, lost in thought as he absorbed Caius’s situation. The oppressive heat of the sun and the dry wind was hardly a concern to him these days as it bore its weight down on the pair, and the silent Soldier had no problems focusing on anything and everything else other than the environment.
The blonde mercenary claimed to be lucky that he didn’t have anyone to search for, but Angeal couldn’t help thinking Caius was likely lying -- at least, a bit. Friends and family left behind. Memories that he couldn’t share with anyone else. Loneliness was already a hard thing to endure, and he’d known that pain well as a child. In a way, it reminded him of Sephiroth. Even the world’s greatest Soldier, who definitely lacked most human contact his entire life, couldn’t hide from loneliness.
“Sounds like you’ve got a tight group with the Dragonblades,” Angeal commented with a smile, hidden underneath the shadow of his hood, “If I can’t find my friends, maybe I’ll have to drop by and see if you all have room for one more mercenary.”
The rest of the conversation would have to wait, however, as the shrill call of a monster came suddenly from overhead. The Soldier turned to look, shielding his eyes from the sun as he caught sight of the figure flying nearby. A griffon, it’s mighty wings stirring the sand beneath it, was darting behind the sand dune directly ahead of them. As it disappeared from sight and into the sands, the cries of its fellows bellowed loudly, welcoming back their brother.
“Looks like we found our nest,” Angeal muttered, flexing his gloved hand as he continued to trod forward through the sand toward the nearby dune, “It likely didn’t consider us much of a threat, since the whole roost is here.”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Mu seemed to misunderstand him, but they were indeed on the same page. Startling a man who had his finger near the trigger was an outright terrible idea, as people move on impulse when surprised. Hostage situations were common in Soldier training, though typically more rare in the field itself. Thankfully, it seemed his ninja-like companion was well equipped for sneaking about.
Angeal watched with a silent, awed-interest as Mu vanished from sight. Was it some sort of spell, or technology he hadn’t seen? Either way, the man was no longer visible, and the Soldier turned his attention to their suspect, musket still in hand. The panicked, quiet cries from the woman tore at his heartstrings, despite all the training he had not to act on impulse. It was hard, listening to suffering.
In mere moments, Mu reappeared, next to the man in a puff of smoke. The man was surprised, but the weapon was removed from his grasp, and Angeal moved in. He quickly ran to the man, a quick speed despite his size, and placed a powerful hit to the man’s solar plexus. The perpetrator immediately doubled over from the force, gasping for the air that had been displaced from his lungs. Expertly, Angeal tugged the pained man from the ground, shoving him against the tree and holding his arms behind his back to keep him from moving.
Angeal glanced back at Mu, nodding his head toward their captured individual, silently telling him to proceed with his questions. The woman at the base of the tree stared, her eyes wide and mouth agape, immobilized by the sudden turn of events. The Soldier gave her a small smile, “It’s alright now, miss. You’re safe.”
