Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
e4e5nf3nc6nc3nf6) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2011-09-17 01:32 am
e4e5nf3nc6nc3nf6) wrote in onepassingnight2011-09-17 01:32 am
Oh, hey, remember a million years ago when I app'd this guy?
The clouds hang long and heavy in the sky, a deep gun-metal grey that shrouded everything below in ominous shadows. Rain poured steadily, making a mire of the ground. There was nothing but grey and murky brown as far as the eye could see: dull, lifeless brick buildings, rusted fence reaching skyward topped with aged razor wire, not a soul in sight. Moving along the sole path that presents itself, a peculiar smell barely masked by the rain became detectable. The putrid scent of spoiled meat and other foods left out to rot. It all made sense one the path turned.
The buildings seemed to fade into the distance, replaced by piles of bodies. The corpses of men, women, and children dumped unceremoniously aside in various states of decay, all in rags. Crows circled round, the harsh calls seeming to mock any who tried to pass. Some perched atop the dead pecking away at the meaty remains of tongues and blank, lifeless eyes. And, god, that smell! The only hope of escaping it was a single, solitary building looming ahead with a lights burning in every window, but it's anything but welcoming.
The change from the drab, grey world is almost blinding. Inside everything is bright and crisp white and the scent of cleaning agents give it a sterile smell, much like a hospital... or a morgue. In fact, that's exactly what this room looks like with it's cold examination table and the myriad of sharp, glinting tools resting on trays and dangling from walls. There's even a suspicious drain on the floor to wash away unsightly fluids. The silence is broken by the crackling din of a cheery tune playing from some unseen record player. It almost seems out of place after everything outside and the quiet menace that fills the room.
A window above gave a brief glimpse of shadowy figures in the unseen observation theatre. They're the only sign of life save for the man sitting, back turned, on the exam table. Like the bodies outside, Erik's dressed in the rags he recalls so clearly from his childhood. Erik's accustomed to this dream, though. He's spent years with the exaggerated memories and fears of childhood creeping around his jagged, broken mind and mingling with his subconscious. But, it's so familiar, he immediately noticed an intruding presence. Without looking over his shoulder, he simply said, "You should not be here."
The buildings seemed to fade into the distance, replaced by piles of bodies. The corpses of men, women, and children dumped unceremoniously aside in various states of decay, all in rags. Crows circled round, the harsh calls seeming to mock any who tried to pass. Some perched atop the dead pecking away at the meaty remains of tongues and blank, lifeless eyes. And, god, that smell! The only hope of escaping it was a single, solitary building looming ahead with a lights burning in every window, but it's anything but welcoming.
The change from the drab, grey world is almost blinding. Inside everything is bright and crisp white and the scent of cleaning agents give it a sterile smell, much like a hospital... or a morgue. In fact, that's exactly what this room looks like with it's cold examination table and the myriad of sharp, glinting tools resting on trays and dangling from walls. There's even a suspicious drain on the floor to wash away unsightly fluids. The silence is broken by the crackling din of a cheery tune playing from some unseen record player. It almost seems out of place after everything outside and the quiet menace that fills the room.
A window above gave a brief glimpse of shadowy figures in the unseen observation theatre. They're the only sign of life save for the man sitting, back turned, on the exam table. Like the bodies outside, Erik's dressed in the rags he recalls so clearly from his childhood. Erik's accustomed to this dream, though. He's spent years with the exaggerated memories and fears of childhood creeping around his jagged, broken mind and mingling with his subconscious. But, it's so familiar, he immediately noticed an intruding presence. Without looking over his shoulder, he simply said, "You should not be here."
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"Do you dream this every night?"
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He doesn't say more but it's not the kind of thing you have to explain if you're agreeing. 'Often enough'. He gets that and rubs absently at his covered arm. Sometimes being the survivor is the hard part.
"What happened?" it's nosy but so far the guy's been willing to talk and it gives Cloud a strange catharsis of his own to hear that he's not alone. Which is a selfish thing but knowing that doesn't change the fact. "How'd you get out?"
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Where did you even start something like that though?
"I was military. One of the super soldiers went crazy and burned down a town. My town."
Sephiroth! it was a dream and the memories bleed into the atmosphere. It was Cloud's voice but it was impossibly young and full of emotion in contrast to the flat way he spoke about it now.
"He almost killed me."
Mom... Tifa... My town... Give it back!
"When the army came to clean up the mess, they found me and turned me and my friend over to a scientist."
intriguing. most intriguing. he'll make a fine test subject. it was an oily voice and you could feel the glint of light off eyeglasses.
"Five years later, Zack, my friend, broke us out and we escaped. He - died. For me."
We're friends. Right?