onepassingnight | oo1 ❄ I've seen this somewhere before

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oo1 ❄ I've seen this somewhere before

The scenery within this new (perhaps not quite) foreign subconscious is a confused jumble, as if its unsuspecting creator cannot quite decide just where to be — a snowy mountainside has burst up from beneath the streets of a staircase city set into the rise of sheer, seaside cliff. The pieces are whole, details sharp and clear on narrow, towering buildings all crammed close together and rocky outcroppings with their blankets of heavy snow (still falling, as it is, in weird pockets only over corresponding ground).

But these little scenes are shattered among each other, shifting constantly, uncertain as the blank, white sky above, which reflects a dull grey in the ocean below. Where these two endless, colorless stretches of space reach to meet on the horizon, they blend seamlessly, as if meeting the edge of this conflicting reality might be as easy as setting sail for the fragile inner boundary of the eggshell shape it almost appears to be locked within.

Bright and cold, the silence falls as heavy as the inclement weather, in each vacuum of space that covers the mountainside, doing its best to muffle the staccato beat of his boots on uneven pavement broken over icy faces of stone and the competing race of his heart, now trying its hardest to burst clear out of his chest. (And in a dream, who's to say it mightn't?) With his rifle hugged tight against his back by its strap, where it beats a solid rap against his shoulder blades, a sharp reprimand for every stumble, a lone soldier in drab blue is fighting a very literal uphill battle.

The uniform he wears obscures all of him but the lower half of the pale, strained expression writ across his face, solemn as he barrels up the insurmountable slope in leaps and bounds, shadows chasing behind as he rounds a street corner onto another craggy patch of open ground. Snow kicks up in misty clouds around his ankles as he stumbles, but doesn't stop, always only one step ahead of his pursuers.

They're monsters, or maybe only the distant memory of a child's imagining of such, solid enough as they crumble up out of the earth in his wake. But they fade to dust as phantoms while he manages still to evade the catch of claws and snapping jaws at the heels of his badly scuffed black boots, the shirttail tucked under his belts. Shameful as it is not to stand and fight, outpacing them is this dream's objective, instead, and he can't seem to stop his feet from moving on, hands scrabbling at each new hold to pull himself higher.

At least not on his own.

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The wolves-but-not-quite-wolves have little interest in Yuffie at all, it seems, though it's difficult to tell, with the lot of them all chasing in the same direction. The pack hardly takes notice as she tears through them, but Cloud's a bit more situationally aware.

When he feels something whiz past him, he can't help but take a look around - and nearly drops out of the race entirely at the sight that greets him. Is that- A girl? The weapon she's carrying merits a double-take all its own, some giant bladed thing that's a wonder she doesn't cut herself with just keeping pace with him (and he'll try not to complain about Shinra weaponry being impractical, in the future).

If the present were only a little less hectic, he might have chosen something just the tiniest fraction more eloquent than

"What!?" to answer her with.

Really, because now's the time to criticize his employers' sense of style? Whether or not he agrees, it's hard to think anyone should care what he's wearing, once he's been torn to pieces.

His 'What?!' sounds somewhat familiar, but Yuffie doesn't bother trying to figure it out. She's glad she isn't weighed down by all the equipment and gear he seems to have, and it's hard to not prance ahead to show off a little.

"Shinra outfits are stupid!" She repeats this as she leaps over a pile of rumble, giving him a sidelong glance as she smirks. "Seriously, how can you see all around you with that helmet on?"

Freedom of movement is at the top of Yuffie's "Requirements" list. A little bit below Materia and arguments with her father.

"I can see-" A hitch in his gait as he clears what appears to be the edge of the roof of a building mostly buried in the ground cuts him off, briefly, before he can tack on an unnecessarily vehement, "Fine!"

For the most part, anyway. He'd have to admit, if confronted, that there's no way he prefers the heavy Shinra grunts' uniform over the thought of something lighter and less constricting (and less ridiculous, yes). But for the sake of argument, there's nothing wrong at all with his uniform, now.

It certainly isn't impeding his progress any, at the very least - he picks up his pace to prove a point as the terrain turns to mountain path, again, kicking up a wave of scattered snow in his wake.

His voice is still pinging something in the back of her mind, like she should know him, but that's not important.

And, to her, whatever's chasing them has also become a backseat priority. There is a challenge here, brewing under the shadows and snow and running. There's nothing more she loves than a challenge, and she hustles to keep up with him.

"Sure you can, kid." Yuffie assumes he's younger than she is, and even if he isn't she thinks 'kid' is as good of a nickname as any. "I guess if something tries to chomp at your head the helmet might help."

This is all she'll allow, otherwise her list of criticisms of the uniform is a mile long. Too long to get in to. Taking a leap over a huge crack that appears in front of her, she squints ahead to see if there's any end in sight.

"So, the plan is to just keep running?" It's natural, assuming that his plan is the one to follow - his dream, his plan. She's pretty sure any kind of nightmare she can come up with would be a little less chaotic. And would possibly involve a long road trip with Cait Sith.

"My name's not kid-!" is all he manages to snap back, before a particularly difficult vault steals his attention and the thought of arguing further leaves his mind just as quickly as it lit upon him. Cloud isn't nearly as quick to fight as he used to be (although it hasn't been that long, and just a bit of that old anger wells up to the surface now, anyway), and it's easier to set aside any personal affront in the face of real danger. He doesn't want to die a whole lot more than he doesn't want to look stupid in front of a total stranger.

(Although sometimes the two come fairly close, in their own game of completely pathetic tag.)

"I haven't- Thought that far ahead," he shouts back, a little terse, yet - there hasn't been time to think ahead; he's barely been able to keep his feet beneath him, let alone formulate some intricate plan of action. As far as he can see, there's no simple way to shake his pursuers.

Yuffie shoots a quick look over her shoulder, holding back a sigh as she registers the unending amount of enemies in pursuit. Taking this chance (yes, while running and trying to not fall flat on her face - she's a good multi tasker) she looks around at their surroundings, trying to find some advantage.

Chances seem pretty slim at this point, though, and she wonders if they climb something if that would get them far enough out of range to fight back.

"You think if we find something tall enough, we can climb it and get a better vantage point?" This is asked out loud, more to get her thoughts in order than anything. She shoots her companion a look, raising an eyebrow. "Say, how good are you at climbing anyway?"

"Maybe." The word's no sooner out of his mouth than the wind whips it away, but she doesn't seem to be paying him all that much mind in asking, either way. Which is just as well, given the increasingly chaotic mess the terrain is swiftly becoming, underfoot. This world is harder to hold together, the longer he runs - and her taunting isn't helping much, in that.

"I can manage," he snaps, perhaps underselling a childhood spent doing just about nothing but climbing through mountain scenes even less forgiving than their current obstacle course. It seems he'll have to make the best of whatever skill he does still possess, one way or another, though, as the slanting facade of a dangerously leaning skyscraper is the only approaching path upward, the dark depressions to either side lending themselves to obvious pitfall. "What about you?"

Yuffie's answer takes a little bit longer to formulate than usual. Her attention is captured by what lies ahead. This will probably end up being a little tricky, but tricky is her middle name!

If she had a middle name.

"Can't you tell? I'm awesome at everything," she crows with pride, years of scampering all over the mountains of Da Chao under her belt. Not to mention her superb skills of defying gravity when the occasion calls for it. "Especially climbing."

His response is not much more than a dubious huff of breath, but it's a clearly audible sound. Right. At least she's confident enough; that makes one of them.

Chancing a look back over his shoulder as the solid ground underfoot begins more rapidly running out, Cloud grimaces and hastily turns back as a shadow snaps far too close in his peripheral vision. The scare drives him toward the base of that towering building just a touch faster, though, his first clumsy jump to catch a foothold in the jutting sill of an open window landing just a little higher. The sharp upward slant of the fallen structure and smooth metal side are working against them, however, and he loses that momentum again almost immediately. The rest he's forced to make up for in sheer determination, alone.

Yuffie has enough confidence to fuel the Planet itself for a few years. It's that confidence that has her racing toward the slanted building, pumping her legs hard enough to give herself the momentum to throw herself as high as she can.

Not that it's any higher than her stranger-friend. She only has a window up on him, and she looks down as she reaches higher, making sure he was still with her.

"Come on," is how she tries to motivate him more, her shoes sliding against the smooth metal. "If we get high enough, I bet they can't reach us, and we can unleash some righteous fury on them."

Which is obviously the part she's looking forward to the most.

That thought seems to do the trick for the trooper following after her, as well. He isn't half bad at this, once he's adjusted, kicking himself up higher off every available foothold. His dreaming mind isn't very kind, in most respects, but it manages to do them the favor of not sending those beasts up after them - they appear to be tethered to the earth they're continually clawing their way up out of, at least temporarily, and their only means of retaliation as the two of them escape is attacking the base of the building ferociously.

A glance back over his shoulder at the second story reassures him that falling into that black mass of gnashing teeth and rending claws will spell the end of anybody.

Just a little higher, and he's more than ready to take a breather. His clunky visor hits the top of the window frame he's hanging half in, smarting where the sides hit pale skin, and only then does he realize that it's boiling under the stupid thing, remembers how much he hates catching his breath under this thing. With one hand still fervently gripping his hold on the dangerously tilted building, Cloud tears off his helmet, and drops his forehead against cool steel, instead.

(That's better.)

A few deep breaths, and then he looks around for that weird girl, again- "Uh, are you okay?"

Yuffie finds it more difficult than usual to scale this building, a fact that frustrates her immensely. It takes all she has to not just whip around and fling herself down into the snapping shadows.

Stopping to catch her breath with him, she's trying to think of what the next step should be. Obviously, it's 'Kill Everything Snappy' but after that what was next? She's at a loss.

At his question, she turns toward him to shoot out some line on how she's more than okay (she's awesometastic) but actually seeing his face causes her to do a double take.

"Holy crap. Cloud?" Yuffie's gaping at him, almost forgetting herself until her fingers start to slip from their hold. Reaching forward to get a better grip, she focuses solely on him as she tries to put two and two together.

"Gotta say, it's weird seeing you without that big 'screw you' sword on your back. And hey, you look pretty young." Yuffie leans over a bit to get a closer look, paying no mind to the height or her precarious dangling.

If she feels lost, she's in the appropriate company - Cloud has no better game plan for after they've gotten past the very pertinent obstacles digging clawmark rivets into the steel side of the building, below them. Lucky that they haven't found the windows, there, yet.

"Huh?" At the sound of his name, Cloud briefly forgets the whole dire situation; being recognized is not something he's all that used to, and it startles him deeply enough that for a second he feels some strange disconnect - as if he's come dangerously close to waking, he'll realize, if he remembers any of this once he finally has.

"Wh-What sword?" As far as he can recollect, he's never used a sword in his life (or not, that is, outside training with practice weapons when he thinks no one else is around). And he's certainly never met any mouthy ninjas. A level glare, and he finds the time to look offended as he dangles precariously over a potentially horrific death. "And I'm not young. I'm probably about the same age as you.

"How do you know me, anyway?"

Yuffie has gotten over her surprise and now she's growing more amused by the second. Messing with Cloud has always been a fun pastime, so teenage Cloud has to be a blast.

"Nah, you're like fourteen, right?" She grins, pointing at herself proudly. "I'm nineteen! Soon to be twenty." His obvious offense doesn't stop Yuffie as she manages to perch a little better on the window sill, glancing down at their foes before looking back a him.

"Yeah, about that. Super long and complicated story but I'll boil it down to this: you got together a band of weirdos and saved the Planet. Also, I was there."

Because she's clearly not one of the weirdos.

"I always wondered if you used swords all the time, or if that was a recent thing. I should probably ask Tifa about that stuff." Scratch that, she's going to ask Tifa all kinds of things about Cloud when he was younger. Just in case she runs in to him again in a dream.

"I'm fifteen!" Which isn't much of a redemption from her accusation, really, but he blurts it out without thinking, swaying unsteadily where he's still clutching the side of the building (and this is a pretty awful place to be having any conversation, let alone such a potentially outrageous and embarrassing one, he's realizing, but there aren't a lot of options, at the moment).

Cloud honestly can't say which he believes less - the world saving and the weirdos or just the claim that she might be any older than he initially assumed - but the thought of arguing probability with her crazy fantasies is vaporized the instant she drops that name.

"T-Tifa!?" This time, he nearly does go pitching off his windowsill perch, turning a shade of red he can hardly hide behind fair hair and the bulk of his scarf as he wobbles dangerously. By the time he's managed to collect his wits enough to look away pointedly, he's regained some measure of sullen intent to mask his absolute horror. "What would she know about it?"

Wow. Fifteen year old Cloud. Yuffie feels like she's just found someone's diary, and now she wants all the information she can squeeze out of him.

His reaction to the mention of Tifa cracks her up, and she laughs. "Yeah, Tifa. She knows plenty, Spike, you guys live together."

A fact that, going by his reaction, might possibly break his brain. Which probably isn't the best thing, now that she thinks about it. Reaching up above her and grasping a window ledge, she pulls herself up higher, determined to get to the top.

"We gotta get moving." There's a little bit of strain to her voice, but she quickly glances back at him, smirking. "We can gossip at the top."

Maybe falling to his death wouldn't be such a bad thing, if it'd get him out of this conversation. Just the thought of such a completely ridiculously impossible notion is enough to make him feel a little numb (lack of blood, maybe, as it's all rushed promptly to fill his face out in that wholly unflattering shade of red), and he makes a fumbling false start before finally managing to get a hand up.

"Shut-up!" he snaps, scrambling up the building side after her (whoever she is, and it doesn't occur to him that he really should ask before assuming she's insane). "Don't mess with me!"

It's easier to give Cloud a hard time when he's fifteen, apparently blushes at the drop of a hat and doesn't have a huge piece of metal that he can slice her in two with. Not that he would actually do that, but it just makes things simpler.

As they climb closer to the top, Yuffie wonders if they're ever going to reach it. She's thinking they can just rain down bullets and sharp weapons down on their pursuers (or really Cloud's pursuers - she noticed that little tidbit), and she's sure Cloud wouldn't have any problem with that.

"So, my thinking is this," she rambles as she climbs. It helps her think. "Once we get to a place where we can stand up, we need to just throw everything we've got at them."

It's quite a climb, but the roof of the tower is nowhere near unreachable; though space and time are rather warped, in the dream, the rise is getting much closer with every step upward, now.

"Fine by me," Cloud grumbles, pulling himself up another window's height and determinedly blocking out the tired, heavy feeling pervading his limbs for just a little longer. Young or old, he's still not much of a talker. Especially not when someone so annoying has got his number.

For the time being, Yuffie is silent as they scale the building, keeping her eyes on the prize so to speak. She can't remember the last time she felt this wore out. Plus the fact she seems to be in Cloud's head space is a little strange, anyway.

Mostly because of the fact most guys this age think about only one thing, right?

Her thoughts meander a ways as she climbs, so that before she knows it the top is near. This gets her excited enough for a last burst of energy, leaping up like some type of monkey to reach the top in record time.

Once up there, she glances down at Cloud with a proud grin. "Come on, blondie, let's get this show on the road and kick some ass!"

Honestly, it's lucky for both of them that Cloud is completely unlike any guy his age.

Well, in most ways - enough to count, at least.

In spite of himself, he's (a little) impressed with that feat of agility, hardly matched by his steady but wholly ungraceful struggles. By the time he reaches the top after her, hauling himself up over the high edge and all but collapsing on the other side, he looks twice as exhausted as she feels. The landscape up on the roof is no easier to navigate than the side of the building, though, and he clings to the edge to keep from sliding backward to the other side, even if letting go and falling back to finally catch a break is rather tempting.

Of course, he doesn't have any snappy comeback for her encouragement, huffing and puffing as he tries to psych himself up for his next move (pulling his rifle around and situating himself in this precarious position to fire with any degree of accuracy isn't going to be enjoyable). But the affronted look he shoots in her direction is the Cloud version of agreement, obviously.

Perching herself on the edge of the roof, she cranes her neck to see the enemy better. She has some pretty clear shots, and without further ado she tugs on her weapon, making sure she's steady before whipping her arm around and letting the shuriken fly.

It manages to slice through something, her only indication a long howl from below. The weapon comes back around and she catches it effortlessly. Her brow furrows, though - she was actually trying to hit multiple enemies at once, rather than just one. It's times like this she wishes she had a few of her tiny shuriken with her.

All right, finally, time to take care of business!

Or. At least put forth a valiant effort toward that end, as it's pretty much all a Shinra Trooper can do (some more than others, but none more than any random band of terrorists).

The noisy rattle of gunfire is nowhere near as elegant as the curving arc of that oversize shuriken, and at such a distance his accuracy is hardly a match even for her disappointing first strike. But it gets the job done, one way or the other, and even though he's sure he'll have a nasty set of bruises from where he's socked the butt of his gun in too tightly to the shoulder holding him propped steady over the edge of the crooked roof, he won't have to worry about reloading nearly as quick as if any part of this were real.

(No good)

"They just keep coming back-!"

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oo1 ❄ I've seen this somewhere before

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