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year 5, quarter 3
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The blonde man seemed to size Angeal up for a moment, but the Soldier let him take his time to do so. It was likely a little stunning, being approached near dawn by a complete stranger on the bank of a river outside of the closest town for Gaia-knew-how-far. The other man seemed more prepared for the desert heat, as it would only increase throughout the day. A subtle reminder to Angeal that he would have to stop by his dwelling and grab his cloak before the sun got too much higher.
"I'm from Torensten,” the blonde man told him, his voice strong and steady -- definitely used to carrying a fair bit of authority, “The people in this town have enough to deal with without monsters getting too close to the area. I've been hired to take some of them out, and drive the others back."
Angeal cocked his head to the side, his hands going to his hips as the sweat threatened to bead off his forehead and drip down, down, “Torensten, hm? I’ve only ever seen it on a map. Looks like it might be a bit cooler than here, though.”
Whether or not the fellow beast-slayer took to his humor didn’t bother the Soldier. He kept his small, friendly smile visible despite how much he felt like collapsing into the sand and letting life take him away, just for a day.
“Sounds like we’ll be working together, if you’ve been hired to take out monsters,” Angeal motioned toward the settlement with one hand, a touch of relief in his deep tones, “I’ve been here for a week, I think, and there seems to be no shortage of them. Nothing too difficult, just numbers. The same river and fertile land that attracts people here calls to them, too.”
The Soldier turned his eyes to the river for a moment, seeing the farmers upstream tending to their daily activities, a small, thoughtful frown on his face as he studied them, “Finding a balance for living creatures is hard.”
That was just sentimentality talking though, wasn’t it? It took a lot of hard work for people and creatures of all shapes and sizes to coexist. Angeal had a lot of respect for the living creatures of the world; monsters or not. They didn’t know malice, they simply knew instinct. But, until someone figured out the right balance, humans and other animals and monsters would always be in some kind of a war.
That was life.
Turning his attention back to the blonde, Angeal gave the man a nod before continuing, “I’m Angeal Hewley. If you’re ready to leave the river, feel free to follow me into town. There’s a man named Mathias who runs one of the early opening stands -- he’ll be happy to provide you some free refreshments and a bite to eat, knowing you’re here to take out some of the pests."
Assuming the blonde would follow -- who would want to stay in the direct sun any longer than they had to? -- the Soldier put boots to sand and began to follow his memorized path back into the nearby town. He could stop and grab his cloak on the way, at least. No sense in burning to a crisp if he didn’t have to, even if it would heal up overnight.
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 has found his confidence, but for how long?
Angeal was sure he had scrunched himself as far back as he possibly could into his own space, as much as his body would allow. Like a dog that had misbehaved and was trying desperately, but poorly, to hide. So far he’d only managed to get caught in the Turk’s glances, but he, thankfully, hadn’t made any physical contact with her. Not that it would be an awful thing, no, just that it was rude to do so when--
Something brushed up against his knee. The Soldier’s eyes widened as the minx sitting across from him apologized casually, her eyes turned to the crowd.
There was absolutely no way that act was an accident. Tall and bulky as he was, she would have had to search for his angled leg. That made it all the worse though, didn’t it? Cissnei had been rather suggestive from the moment she’d sat down, but then again, wasn’t this exactly the kind of event one should be behaving in such a way? It was a … a dating scene in a bar. He was the odd one out, shoving himself into a corner, wary of everyone that met his eyes. Angeal swallowed the bitter lump in his throat.
“I’m probably not the pretty face you wanted to see,” Cissnei turned her attention back to him, leaning over the table and into his space, her earthy toned eyes glinting in the light, “Which is why you can’t look at me…”
Oh, great. Now he was an asshole. Angeal immediately pulled a thousand apologies from his mind, sighing as he brought his drink to his lips, taking a thoughtful sip. However, the red-head across from him leaned in further, her body pressing against the table as she stared at him curiously, “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me for a little while. Can you tolerate me just for tonight?”
“I …,” the Soldier sighed, placing his glass back down on the table as the whiskey burned down his throat, spurring him on, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like I don’t want you here. I’m just out of my element, trying to do any of this.”
It was a terrible apology, he thought, his glowing blue eyes meeting Cissnei’s once more, naturally ashamed. He was raised better than this. To be gentlemanly. Maybe she felt just as strange in this setting but was expertly hiding it, as Turks do. Her naturally flirtatious behavior had thrown him for a loop, but he could enjoy himself as well, surely. Not as easily as she did, no, but he could try.
He could try.
“You’re more than a pretty face, and I can certainly do better than only tolerating you. I can promise that much,” Angeal admitted, giving her an honest smile as he forced himself to relax. Relax, he softly reminded himself, She’s not going to bite you. You can have fun here. Stop being so uptight.
A waiter in a nice waistcoat approached the table, appearing very apologetic. Angeal immediately felt the urge to tell him everything was fine, but the gentleman launched into a spiel before he could interrupt. A standard apology, followed by--
“-we entered you into the compatibility event to allow for you to have a more exciting night-”
Asking would have probably been more polite, Hewley mused, watching the man with an amused eyebrow raised. A series of tasks? Well, he did enjoy a healthy competition, and there were likely few-to-none who could go toe-to-toe with a Soldier and a Turk of all people.
“-while one wrist from each person is tied to the other’s-”
Wait, what?
A series of tasks, with the two of them tied together? Angeal’s amusement fell from his face, as he began mouthing a no, no thank you -- but the Turk beat him to the punch, enthusiastically agreeing to the offer. Yes, Soldiers and Turks did work well together, but Angeal was quite sure no Soldier and Turk had ever been tied together and set to perform a series of seemingly romantic tasks! The first task didn’t seem so terrible, having to finish a meal together, but what came next?
… Alright. If that’s the way she wanted the night to go, then he was going to jump into headfirst. It was very unlike him, moreso channeling his rambunctious pupil or his own, younger self, but like any mission, it had to get done.
Angeal took a deep breath, forcing himself to loosen his usual inhibitions. Everything would be fine. He was a grown man, Cissnei was good, albeit overly-friendly, company. If he were lucky, she would crave winning a contest as much as he did. They could have fun along the way. They would have fun, so long as pulled the proverbial stick out of his ass.
It was all in good fun.
“You ought to be more careful,” Angeal nodded to Cissnei, narrowing his eyes slightly as he grabbed his half-filled glass of whiskey. He brought it to his lips, finishing the glass in one measured swallow, before quickly reaching across the table and snagging her glass as well. No time for reactions, the Soldier leaned back and drained her drink as well, the lavender and lemon pairing well with the remnants of his whiskey.
He was going to need more liquor to keep this going, for sure.
Angeal leaned forward slightly, a soft smirk on his strong jaw, “Sometimes good things bite back. But, if you’re so sure you want to do this…”.
He placed his right elbow in the middle of the table, opening his palm to her in a take my hand gesture, “Tie me up.”
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 had thought he’d potentially made an unfortunate mistake the moment he’d opened his mouth and offered the strange man a spot by his campfire for the evening.
Now, after seeing the guy’s too-wide smile that was clearly nothing genuine or positive, he knew he’d messed up doing what he did best; being too kind to strangers. It’s not like he could help himself, really. He’d been raised to be kind, thoughtful, helpful, patient … But Gaia, did it get him into some of the most troublesome situations. And Genesis wasn’t here to bail him out by upsetting the guest to the point of leaving, despite Angeal’s half-hearted protests.
On the upside, the man seemed delighted by the chance to cook his own fish. The Soldier raised a dark eyebrow in amusement, tossing another piece of slightly-too-charred fish in his mouth to swallow down. The red-head hadn’t proved himself to be much of a chocobo jockey, but maybe he’d be better at roasting a fish over a fire. Hm, maybe he should have offered to filet the thing, first. The stranger’s eyes were practically alight by the campfire, as he thought his process through.
”It’s been a time since I’ve tried. It must be like riding a bike. Though that is what I thought of the chocobo, I suppose. Oh, so many things I’ve forgotten! I’d dare say I’ve lost my touch.”
Angeal gave the man a lopsided smirk, uncertain but friendly enough as he muttered, “Pretty forgetful, huh?”
The strange character searched about the area with his gaze, looking for something in particular he couldn’t seem to put words to. The Soldier watched on curiously, waiting for the man to voice his thoughts or ask a question, but one never came. Instead he exclaimed having to do things himself and --
-- Where the hell did that knife come from!?
Clenching his jaw in order to keep from exclaiming with surprise, Angeal stared down the man before him who had just magically brought forth a weapon out of thin air, eyes wide with unconcealed confusion. All he’d managed to see was a quick flash of red light, and then … there it was. The red-head was amusing himself by peeling scales from the fish with his knife, seemingly unaware of how he’d silently jolted his companion. Angeal quickly shook the surprise from his face, tearing what edible piece was left of his fish and quickly scarfing it down in order to keep his mouth busy.
The bones and too-burnt pieces were tossed in the fire.
”Now, if we’re to keep company, I’ll have to know something about you. You have a touch with chocobos, I see. And an affinity for swords. I sense a story behind it.”
Angeal glanced away from the fire and back to the stranger, his glowing eyes carefully studying the man. Something about him … moreso than just the knife he’d summoned out of thin air, felt strange. Like a plant blooming in the wrong season. Interesting, but wrong, a cause for concern. Angeal crossed one leg in front of himself, slinging one arm over the top of his knee as he held himself up with the other behind his back. In the distance he could hear the chocobos warking, presumably the one that had nearly bolted into a crowd among them.
“There’s not much to tell,” Angeal spoke honestly, of course, he didn’t much like thinking himself any better than anyone else in the world, “I was a poor, country kid with some lofty dreams of helping people. I chased after my best friend when he left town, and we joined the military together. Now I’m a Soldier who gets to help others.”
He paused, a thoughtful frown tugging down the corners of his mouth, “Or, I was. I don’t really know what I am now. Just another man, I guess.”
Dreams and honor still existed, in his heart. But purpose was hard to find, lost in a world with no friends, no family.
Eager to get the subject off of himself, Angeal quickly nodded toward the stranger after his small spiel, “I’d say you’ve got the more interesting story. You picked an odd time of day to try re-learning how to ride a Chocobo or scale a fish with a knife you manifested out of thin air. I haven’t gotten your name yet, either.”
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 really startled. By everything right now LMAO
Well, on the upside, at least Mu hadn’t been terribly bothered by the amount of questions he’d suddenly launched off. The ninja had been nothing but calm, patient, and helpful to Angeal from the very moment he’d spotted him, and for that, the Soldier would be forever grateful. It would have been just as easy for the man to keep walking and ignore him, just as many of the other souls on the street had while the two conversed.
Wherever he was, there was at least one kind soul. That was reassuring enough to still his fast beating heart.
Mu went on to explain what he knew about the crime in the city they were in. It didn’t sound like anything they would need to immediately worry about, which had been Angeal’s concern. In fact, it sounded eerily familiar to Midgar’s type of crime, aside from the military being preoccupied with dragons. The Soldier took a moment to process that that’s what the ninja had indeed said. Dragons. Well, that was something they certainly didn’t commonly have issues with … The only dragons Angeal was aware of lived in the mountains, near in the middle of nowhere. Once in a blue moon a few Soldiers would be dispatched to handle one.
The ninja explained that he couldn’t really tell him much more and Angeal shook his head in response, giving a quiet, muttered, “No, that’s fine.” The Soldier readjusted the sword on his back, to give his hands something to do rather than itch due to inaction. A nervous habit, maybe.
However, as Angeal was forming the next question he could think of, something happened next to Mu. Or, on him? A creature had suddenly appeared next to the ninja’s head -- demonic in appearance, it opened its mouth and spoke, rather directly at that. Angeal felt his jaw loosen in temporary shock, but clicked it back in place as Mu asked him not to mind the intrusion.
Okay. Alright. They were just going to ignore the floating, demon thing that appeared out of nowhere and talked to Mu. He was fine with that. This definitely wouldn’t be difficult.
“N-no, I don’t need to stay around this dumpster,” Angeal stuttered, forcing his eyes off of the ninja and his companion, “You’re right, we should go. It’ll at least help me get my bearings.”
Hewley put boots to stone, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked a few paces in silence, his jaw locked in a concerned confusion. As if he didn’t have enough questions swirling in his head, more seemed to jump on the pile with each passing moment.
“Sorry,” he sighed, turning his head to look at Mu before they’d gotten too terribly far from their starting point, “What appeared on your shoulder out of nowhere and started talking? That’s --- That’s not something that happens where I come from.”
Your name has about as much heft as that sword, in my time.
In my time. That was an odd addition to an otherwise normal response. Angeal knew he was easily recognizable around Midgar and beyond, as much a benefit as it was embarrassing. He was not a man who ever intended to be in any sort of spotlight, and thankfully, Genesis and Sephiroth had been much more popular amongst the populace than he was. His name carried a weight, though, and helped to inspire others to join the ranks of Soldier and help people. That much he could appreciate.
The Soldier listened intently as Aela began to describe her morning and failed attempts to get anyone to join her venture. Mount Hotan … Right, he’d seen the area on his map. Though he was, obviously, unfamiliar with this particular mountain, he was certainly accustomed to the types of beasts that tended to frequent such locations. Most monsters hardly stood a chance against a 1st Class Soldier as it was … There were few out there that would be able to challenge him, in all likelihood. The woman mentioned spells and, as she turned her wrist, Angeal caught the familiar, brilliant twinkle of materia.
A man arrived at the table, placing a dish with a kabob and a colorful drink in front of Angeal. The Soldier furrowed his brows for a moment, giving the man a quiet thanks as he walked away and Aela gestured for him to help himself. Typically, he would never indulge in a token without insisting on paying it back, but good lord was he tired of eating fish recently.
Ugh, he’d forgotten what food prepared by someone else tasted like. The kabob was well cooked, not too tough, spiced well. Were he any less of a decent human being, Angeal likely would have been drooling to finally have a decent meal.
Aela went on to explain more while he enjoyed his food too quickly. It seemed to be a relatively easy request, considering all of his prior life experience. A trip up the mountain, she would grab what she needed, he’d stand guard and slay any particularly nasty critters, and they’d be on their way back. So long as they didn’t stray too closely to any nesting beasts, Angeal could hardly see there being too much of a concern. The pay off for the ordeal would be more than enough.
It feels strange, though. Less like a mission, and more like I’m picking up mercenary work.
“Stipulations?” Angeal repeated the word, his eyes widening just a touch at the question. Well, that was certainly different. Soldiers weren’t typically offered much input in their jobs. Sephiroth could dictate what he did and didn’t want to do at times, but Angeal had never had the pleasure. Which he didn’t mind. He took orders, that was his job. The Soldier shook his head, his voice level but laced with a light humor, “No, there’s nothing I need to do my job other than orders. Not having to shove down Shinra rations is enough of a bonus.”
Though they weren’t the worst thing he’d ever eaten -- that honor belonged to his attempt to teach Zack how to cook -- the bags of dried, crunchy bars of sawdust were hardly enjoyable.
“Most of my mission names were combinations of numbers and letters,” Angeal admitted, cocking an eyebrow at the mention of Turks, “Definitely not anything like Tits up. I think you can save the unsavory names for another partner.”
The mention of the name Rufus was odd. Wasn’t that President Shinra’s son? He hardly had any power or hierarchy in the company as far as Hewley knew; not that he kept up much with such things. The boy was a teenager, and while everyone had expected him to eventually be named Vice President, nothing of the sort had happened yet. Well, maybe he had more to do with the company than Angeal knew. It wouldn’t have surprised him.
He took a swig of the colorful drink -- sweet and fruity, definitely nothing like the black coffee he would have been enjoying in his apartment if he weren’t in an entirely different world. Angeal set the glass down before crossing his arms over his chest, eyeing the woman on the other side of the table with an easy confidence. This talk had been soothing, in a way. For a moment, his life felt somewhat normal. A mission briefing. Bodyguard duty.
“I’m happy to accompany you for this expedition, at the very least. Obviously, I’m out of my, er--,” Angeal cocked his head slightly, a concerned frown tugging at his already neutrally serious face, “-- typical job, as it were. It doesn’t sound much different than the missions I would be doing back at Shinra.”
He was a man without a job, without his friends and allies, and currently, without much purpose.
“You tell me when, where, and what you need, and I’ll do it for decent enough pay, so long as it doesn’t negatively impact the well-being of anyone else.”
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.
The red-head’s laugh reminded him of a bird, pleasant and trill. However, her dark eyes were much more like a cat; gazing at him over the rim of her glass curiously, a slight smirk on her lips. Angeal suddenly felt more uncomfortable than he had mere moments before, an unwelcome heat barely dusting the edges of his cheekbones. Thank god the bar wasn’t extremely well lit. He averted his eyes just as Cissnei took a sip from her glass, realizing he’d stared harder than he’d meant to.
“Hm? Yes, that’s right. Am I still a Turk in an unknown world, I wonder?” Cissnei’s glass touched back down on the table, and Angeal felt comfortable enough to turn his glowing-eyed gaze away from the window and back to her. They both knew well enough the answer to her question, even if they weren’t voicing it. Of course she was a Turk, forever and for always. It was a rumor, but definitely a believable one that no one left the Turks unless they were dead. Even if she didn’t have anyone to take orders from, Cissnei was likely still doing everything that she did best.
He was doing the same thing, of course. As a Soldier, it was his job to help people … So, that’s what he’d spent his time doing.
Briefly, Angeal wondered if death was the only way out of the Soldier program, as well.
“I’m on break, regardless. So, don’t worry. I won’t bite. For now.”
Angeal scowled, bringing his glass to his lips. He took a long sip, the burn of the whiskey trickling down his throat before he mumbled, “You shouldn’t bite at all.”
The Soldier set his glass back on the table, the warmth in his body now easily explained off by the whiskey. The red-head played off that she was just killing time at the bar, playing a dating game? Yeah, right. Then again, it’s not like Hewley had any better of an explanation of why he was there, either. Angeal shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling more aware of where his body was positioned. Was his sword within easy reach? Was he going to accidentally nudge Cissnei with his boot? He felt oddly cornered, stuck in the corner of seat, despite the fact he had one strong arm across the back of the booth and definitely more of a presence.
It wasn’t how he expected to feel, being stared down by a Turk. They were partners, in the grand scheme of things.
He’d blame it on her eyes.
“What have you been up to during your time here? Using your abilities to play the hero?”
Angeal sighed, tapping a gloved finger against his glass, “Soldier or not, I’ll always help people if they need it. I wouldn’t liken being a decent human being to playing the hero, though.”
He cast his eyes downward to the table, as a thought passed. What would he be doing, otherwise? Searching for his comrades was his main priority, sure, but it didn’t keep him alive in a world that kept spinning with or without him.
“You’re the first familiar face I’ve run into, here. It’s actually reassuring to know that I’m not really alone,”Angeal muttered, unable to meet Cissnei’s gaze -- unwilling to know if she were simply staring blankly back at him. He certainly hadn’t intended to blurt out such a vulnerable thought, but it was impossible to keep holding onto. Angeal had been beyond lonely, he’d been lost, and most of all; he’d been worried. Worried he was stuck in a fever dream, in Hell itself, left alone to suffer for the rest of his days and that his friends may have been stuck elsewhere, needing him.
Regardless, it was not like a Turk could do much with that information.
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.
For the first time in weeks, Angeal felt refreshed. The journey to Provo hadn’t been a terribly exciting venture, but it was definitely long without anything to carry him other than his own two feet. With nothing much to his name and very few people looking for a helping hand, the Soldier had been down on his luck as far as gil went. Night after night of sleeping under the stars had aggravated part of his back beyond belief, and when he’d finally arrived to the larger settlement near the sea, Angeal had been quick to spend what little he’d earned on a goddamn bed for one evening.
It was a rough looking inn on the edge of the city, but it was cheap and the keeper didn’t bother asking any questions. The room had been small, with no amenities, but the dark haired Soldier could care less. If anything, it reminded him of home.
One night of restful sleep wasn’t enough to cure the ache under his shoulder blade, but it was certainly more than enough to clear the ever-present clouds in his mind. With a more improved mood and a town full of possibilities, the morning touted itself as a gift from the goddess. Or, whatever Genesis meant when he said that.
Angeal took to the streets after grabbing his few effects from his room at the Inn; his beloved sword and a travel pack that had grown lighter over the last week or so. With the bag slung over his shoulder, the Soldier headed into town, curiously eyeing the people and embracing the atmosphere. His typical Soldier uniform didn’t stick out much in the crowd, but his sword typically had people keeping their distance; eyes wary and body language unsure. Angeal frowned, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets as he walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to -- not everyone in Midgar and beyond liked Shinra or Soldiers -- but it made catching anyone’s eye a bit more difficult.
It was a pleasant day, at least. The sun warmed his skin and the nearby sea blew in a cool, salty breeze. As he approached a more crowded area of the city, Angeal took a moment to pause and look things over. At the edge of one street was a board, littered with posts. Curious, Hewley marched over, boots hitting the pavement hard as he increased his speed, seeing the words he’d been hoping to find.
Help wanted.
“Finally,” the dark haired man breathed a sigh of relief, glowing eyes scanning over the various documents here and there stapled to the board. There was certainly a breadth of options to choose from; picking vegetables, escorting people from city to city, and … Bodyguard work? Angeal cocked an eyebrow, reaching up and pulling the flyer off of the board, scanning the paper. An expedition to Mount Hotan, wherever that was. It was offering a hefty pay, though, and Angeal’s stomach turned at the thought of eating fish cooked over a fire under the stars for yet another string of nights.
He could easily pretend it was an assigned mission, really. What he was doing these days may be considered more mercenary work, but … Well, who was watching? He was alone.
Angeal followed the directions on the flyer, searching for the name of the place listed for meeting the client. It didn’t take long to find, both the directions and the scent of cooked food lulling the Soldier along as he clutched the flyer in one hand. He paused for a moment, glancing back down at the paper to get an idea of who to look for. Whoever it was, they’d hopefully be enticed enough by his stature and weapon … The words First Class Soldier meant nothing in this new world.
By the time he’d glanced back up, a hand had shot up into the air, beckoning him. Well, that wasn’t too difficult, Angeal thought, moving forward to meet the woman who’d presumably be hiring him. She was seated at a table with the remains of a kabob and some sort of colorful drink, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Not anyone he was familiar with, unfortunately, but Angeal had yet to be so lucky. "I certainly didn't expect a Soldier to take up my modest offer, especially not a 1st Class Soldier,” the woman spoke first, motioning for him to sit down. Angeal gave her a pointed look, furrowing his brows as he removed the Buster Sword from his back, setting it against the side of the table before taking a seat.
She knows I’m a Soldier? Could she be…?
"Quite the honor to meet you. My name is Aela."
“I’m Angeal,” the Soldier dutifully replied, giving the woman a curious look, “But, it sounds like you may have already known that.”
Setting the flyer on the table, Angeal leaned back in his chair, ignoring the way the wood protested against his weight, “I’m assuming you didn’t wave me over here just to reminisce about Shinra, though. Are you still looking for someone to help 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.
The quiet, still atmosphere was a blessing and a curse. It made for a pleasant walk through the sands before it got too warm to function properly, a real respite from the hustle and bustle that would soon overtake the market streets in the outpost. However, it gave way to no distractions. Try as he might, Angeal couldn’t wipe away the visions in his nightmares no matter how hard he tried. No, the truth of it was that he wasn’t trying very hard at all.
Those dreams, where his friends ran from him, where they withered away, where they cried -- it was all he had of them right now.
No one he’d encountered had seen any other people like him. No others with large swords or glowing eyes. No legendary swordsmen with names he recognized. Hewley had wandered the paths, he’d talked to people, he’d helped as many as he possibly could while doing it. And yet, what did he have to show for it? A meager dwelling, some gil in his pocket, and a bucket of good karma? He loved helping people, of course. It was his life’s work. Dreams of saving people, of saving the world, helping any and all that he could. It was his purpose, and yet …
Angeal had never envisioned doing it all alone.
The sound of water pulled the Soldier from his dazed state. His gaze coming back into focus, he realized he was looking at the river. It ebbed and flowed calmly, ripples across the water’s surface as various aquatic life went about their lives before the sun got too high overhead. The river was one of the cleanest he’d ever seen, constantly filtering through rocks and sand. In the shallows, one could see their own reflection, clear as day.
He wasn’t the only admiring the water though, it seemed. Slightly upstream was a blonde man, dressed in blue and grey, hair wet as he drew his face out from the water’s surface. Angeal watched as the man began to tie his hair back in a knot, drawing the wet mass out of his face. A memory welled up for a moment, just for a moment, of his own hands wrestling with silver hair as he insisted on pulling Sephiroth’s hair back before embarking out into windy plains, afraid his friend would struggle seeing in the tumultuous conditions.
It was early for everyone who wasn’t a merchant, though, and this man didn’t seem like the buying and selling type. Shoulder pads and gauntlets, light armor … the man was likely a fighter of some sort, but Angeal couldn’t spot a weapon. Maybe he was simply getting ready for the day? This was the first the Soldier had seen of the blonde, though. Was he only passing through?
It would either be useful or detrimental to have another soldier around the outpost. What tasks Angeal had taken on he hadn’t found much of a challenge in, but he also couldn’t really afford to lose the work he had here. Or, maybe it would be the perfect push to get him back on the road.
Either way, his boots were soon following the edge of the river, toward the blonde man.
“Hello there,” Angeal tried to hide the exhaustion in his voice as he greeted the man with a small, polite smile, “You’re an early bird I take it? I haven’t seen you around here before.” Hopefully he looked a little less ragged than he felt. Maybe he should have dipped his head in the river as well.
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.
This is much better than the alternative, in Angeal's mind xD
Time ticked by, and still, no one came to Angeal’s table.
He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended. No, he was most definitely relieved, the Soldier thought as he took another sip of his nearly-drained whiskey. People watching was only entertaining for a short while, and soon his attention was pulled from the giggles and clinks of glasses to the window; watching as small, glowing bugs occasionally buzzed nearby. A part of him longed for the contact of others, to speak and laugh and get to know someone new, to maybe help someone in trouble. Yet, a voice in the back of his head whispered ruefully, they would never understand you.
Hewley shook the thought away, tapping his fingers on the table. For quite some time, the only interaction he had was with the bartender, who’d stepped forward and given him a fresh drink and a nod -- likely acknowledging his pitiful predicament. Angeal accepted the fresh whiskey and went back to staring out of the window, stuck with only his thoughts for company for yet another evening.
Or, so he’d thought.
“Angeal?”
The Soldier whipped his head back to the bar, his eyes wide and gloved hands perched on the edge of the table. It’d been a long time since he’d heard anyone say his name without him having to share it, first. The alarm bells didn’t stop, however, once he saw who’d stepped up to his table. If anything, Angeal’s heart began to pound faster.
A well-fitted black suit, complete with a perfectly placed tie. Atop the shades of neutral colors was a splash of fiery red hair, and a set of curious brown eyes. A glass placed carefully on the table; an unspoken demand.
A Turk? Here?
Angeal stared hard for a moment, recalling everything he could about the Turks he’d recently worked with. While the two departments regularly shared missions together, everyone was well aware of the unspoken tension between them. Soldiers and Turks operated completely differently -- that was the point of course -- but it meant that they often had difficulties understanding one another. The Turks were all about trickery and secrets, while Soldier was … Well, much more open and blunt. A Turk was a box of mysteries. For Soldier’s, what you saw was what you got. There wasn’t anything left to the imagination.
Either way, seeing one or the other usually meant trouble for whoever they were approaching. Especially if they were together.
However, at their core, the two of them were just people. People with different purposes and ideals, but still, people. The red-head gave him a smile, and Angeal easily returned it. Cold hesitation still seized his shoulders, but it was giving way to an emotion he hadn’t quite expected. Familiarity. Here stood someone that had walked the very same land he had. Someone who knew him, even if he didn’t really know her.
“My apologies. This was the last place I thought to see you. Looking for a little company, I suppose?”
The Turk slid her way into the seat across from him, her tantalizing drink following suit. Angeal tapped a finger against his own glass, relaxing his other hand off of the edge of the table to sit back as far as his form would allow.
“You could say that,” the Soldier answered in kind, a small, honest smile on his face. He was no Turk, hardly capable of lying. He wore his heart on his sleeve, much less loudly than Zack did, but nonetheless; Angeal was nothing but an honest man. There was no sense in lying to the champion of liars who likely had a profile of him memorized.
Hewley took a hefty sip of his whiskey, before gesturing at the rest of the bar with a glowing eyed glance, “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think this is the first time I’ve spoken to another human in a week.” He laughed quietly, low, barely shaking his head.
“Cissnei, right? Are you here for work? Something tells me, even on an unknown world, the Turks never stop working.”
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.
There he was, running, pacing, screaming once more.
How many times had he gone through this, now? It always started with Genesis, his friend’s back turned to him, shrouded in darkness. Every time Angeal took a step forward, reaching out to him, Genesis moved further away. No matter how fast he ran, his childhood friend always stayed out of reach. He was desperate to catch him -- why, he wasn’t sure -- but not being able to reach him distressed him beyond belief. Always, Angeal was left behind, exhausted and sweating, his voice weak from trying to reach Genesis in the distance. With every blink the red-head grew further and further away, until he was gone, lost in the night-time sky.
Sephiroth came next, always. Angeal turned to look at his dear friend, shocked and sickened by the man’s appearance. His cat-like eyes were empty and catatonic, staring into nothingness, his face stoic and frozen; much how he seemed when they’d first met. However, what was so frightening was the rest of his being -- Sephiroth appeared starved, weak and frail, lungs barely drawing in breath after breath as he struggled to stay on his feet. His dark coat hung off of his shoulders, draping his too-thin frame in darkness. This time, when Angeal reached for his friend, it wasn’t Sephiroth who moved further away; it was Angeal himself. As the Soldier attempted to step forward and embrace his friend, he moved backwards. Panicked, he tried again and again, yet it was always the same result. The more he moved, the further he grew from his friend.
When he went too far, Sephiroth disappeared; his body seemingly turning to ash, and scattering in the wind.
He was already hurt, so hurt moving into the finale. Angeal’s heart screamed, beating erratically as he fell to the ground, silence enveloping his senses. The sky above him was dark, twinkling so innocently with stars. He couldn’t move. Not a muscle, not a sound -- here, he was nothing but a witness that couldn’t close his eyes. Above him was Zack, but not the happy-go lucky young man Angeal adored. The young Soldier’s cheek was bleeding profusely as he fell to his knees at Angeal’s side, tears dripping heavily from his lashes as he let out an anguished scream. The droplets, red and clear combined, fell harshly against Angeal’s face. He’d never heard such a wail in his life -- as if Zack’s life and spirit were being torn from his very body.
Angeal knew he had to comfort the kid. He had to apologize. I’m sorry, Zack, I shouldn’t have done this to you -- I shouldn’t have --, but the words never came to his stilled, frozen lips. His hands never moved, despite how strongly he wanted to comfort his pupil.
All of the pain and anguish swirled, threatening to consume him until the end of time itself. A part of him silently accepted the punishment.
Another part of him grew stronger each time, crying out against the dying of the light.
Angeal sat up suddenly, gasping for air. The air was no longer freezing around him but warm and stuffy and humid. The dark sky was replaced by a muted dimness, the twinkling stars fading away to a rough, stone rooftop. The Soldier clutched the rough, burlap texture underneath of his bare skin, breathing heavily, willing and failing to bring his heart rate back to normal. His pulse pounded in his ears as everything slowly sunk back in, as normalcy dragged itself back from the depths of hell.
It was a nightmare, Hewley told himself as the sweat dripped off the tip of his nose, only a nightmare.
He pulled himself away from his makeshift bed, a sorry cushion of cotton rags and burlap sacks, dragging himself wearily to his feet. Angeal moved slowly to the far side of the room, swaying with his steps, his skin soaked in sweat and his pulse finally beginning to slow. Attached to the wall nearby was a small mirror, reflecting the glow of the Soldier’s blue eyes as he stared himself down. He looked the same as he always had, aside from his chin being a little fuzzier than normal and the dark circles underneath his eyes. With each passing night he slept less and less soundly, chased by nightmares … or some mental demons.
That, combined with the intense pain in his back, would have kept anyone from sleeping soundly at night.
Angeal sighed, watching in the mirror as he touched his own face, rubbing under his eyes with his fingers before slicking back his sweat soaked hair. He grabbed a worn towel that was resting on a nearby countertop -- it was too early for the water to be turned on, he reminded himself blearily as he patted the sweat on his chiseled body dry. He grabbed his uniform top, sliding it over his skin that felt so cold, yet blazing hot.
He glanced out of the window, noting the subtle hues of pink and orange that began to paint the bottom of the sky. The sun was beginning to rise, and with it, the sounds of people outside of their homes began to buzz in the air. The Soldier had found himself wandering into the desert town a week prior; out of supplies and exhausted. He was nearly free of the clutches of the oppressive dunes, but the town had offered him respite for as long as necessary in exchange for clearing out some pesky monsters. It was beyond easy work for a First Class Soldier, Hewley realized as the days passed with a few boring battles here and there, but he was more exhausted than he thought. Tired, dazed, and confused.
“Enough,” Angeal mumbled, securing the magnetic strap behind his back, unsure exactly who or what he was talking to. The nightmares needed to stop, but instead, they progressively got worse and worse. He was sick of it. Tired of spending every night chasing his friends, and waking up with an insane amount of pain in his back.
The Buster Sword sat innocently against the wall -- one shining beacon in an otherwise dark world for Angeal. He grabbed it, savoring the weight as he held it high, pressing his forehead against the cool metal and mumbling a silent prayer. It was too bad he couldn’t use the sword to fight away the nightmares.
Next to his bed pile sat Angeal’s affects; a travel pack and map, supplies of water canteens and non-perishable foods, the couple of materia that had managed to follow him into the strange, new world. His collection was just about large enough for him to comfortably take his leave and return to a life on the road. Another day or so and he’d be set to leave, provided he could get more than a few hour’s worth of sleep. The Soldier grumbled wearily, swinging his precious sword to his back. No sense in pretending he was going to get any more rest. Once the sun peeked over the horizon, it would become unbearably warm.
Angeal turned to leave, before something caught his eye in the semi-darkness. A feather, long and white, lay on the floor at his feet. A few others followed from his previous steps, all dropped in various spots around the room. The Soldier narrowed his eyes at them, before leaning down to collect them all and shove them into his pocket. That was another problem that seemed to be following him -- a collection of feathers, white as snow. He never caught them falling off of his person, but … where else could they be coming from? Or, maybe they were a figment of his imagination?
Exhausted and grumpy, Angeal found it hard to care.
Instead, he snuck down the creaking old stairs, best he could considering his size, and swiftly out of the door of the home he’d been graciously allowed to stay in. The owner, an older man who’d lost his son to the beasts in the desert, had welcomed him in all too quickly. Angeal was a weary traveler who needed a break but was willing to go cut through monsters like paper, and the man was a lonely sort who’d lost his son and didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same. It worked, for now.
Outside, the world was slowly coming to life. Among the sand the traders were beginning to set up their stalls; placing goods of all sorts in baskets and lining them up neatly. Farmers were headed toward the nearby river to tend to their crops, nearly ready for harvest. The merchant town was an oasis of a sort -- still tucked away in the desert, but bordering the river that separated it from the bridge that led west, toward the Crystallus Divider, whatever that was. A well used travel path, people of all sorts came and went before venturing north or west. Only the truly manic wanted to go east, further into the dunes.
Still distracted from his recurring nightmares, Angeal simply let his boots lead the way for now. It would be another hour or so before he would find work, most likely, and so he let his feet carry him wherever they wished for now. He followed the wide path away from the markets, heading toward the river and the bridge that led west. The sun barely began to peek up over the distant horizon in the east, warming the Soldier’s back as he shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, eyes downcast. He heard the occasional footstep in the vicinity, but otherwise, the world seemed still.
A peaceful atmosphere, so very different from the swirling chaos inside of him.
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.