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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He catches her move in the periphery of his vision a second before he opens fire, and it somewhat strengthens his resolve. From up here, the beasts are fish in a barrel, but it still takes him a little longer than somebody with superior aim might've, to clear out the shooting gallery. Even his own ears are ringing, a little, by the time he's hesitantly shouldering his rifle, again.

"It looks like that's it," he says, glancing back around for her with an look that might be meant to awkwardly reassure, though it's difficult to tell on just a glimpse of his face. "For now, anyway."

Her hands start to slide down as the rifle is shouldered once more, and when he says that she picks herself back up, dusting off her dress.

"Awwwww, I wanted to toss more barrels at them." It's joking of course--her very real relief is evidenced by the sigh she lets out when she looks out the window with him and sees no more of that blackness. "Whew! So that's over. I think we'll be safe." The last bit is said to reassure him. That was his nightmare, after all...and when she can only see his mouth, an awkwardly reassuring look manages to come out as just awkward. She turns to him, cocking her head curiously as a thought occurs to her. "Say, how'd you run into them anyhow?"

A faint, startled laugh surprises its way out of him, at that, and there may even be the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pushes himself back up to his feet - wary of shards of glass and splinters alike. "Um, maybe next time."

His relieved amusement is fleeting, though, as he rather abruptly turns more fully to face the busted out window. A touch of chill wind swirls inward, wintry with a few drifting flakes of snow, far from their cordoned off sections of the dream. His shoulders sag only a little - but visibly. "This's gonna sound dumb, but... I don't know. All I can remember is that I've been running for a long time."

"It doesn't sound dumb." She shakes her head. "It DOES sound like you need a break." She looks around, thinking, before she says decisively: "I want one too," and lifts herself up to sit on a barrel. There her pink dress is smoothed down; her legs kick idly against the barrel twice before crossing neatly at the ankles.

"How about we talk about something nicer now? By the way, I'm Aerith."

"Okay." He doesn't know what, exactly, constitutes nicer- But he's more than willing to drop the subject. Something about thinking of those monsters puts him a little more ill at ease, every time their lingering afterimage crosses his mind.

Stepping away from the window (with a last, surreptitious glance downward), he takes a look around the bland interior of the shop's storeroom before answering. That awkward note hasn't left him - is amplified, maybe, by the fairly blatant reminder that this is not just some other cadet (or even SOLDIER) that he's talking to, but a stranger, a civilian - and a pretty girl, at that. It's honestly a challenge to imagine any greater potential powder keg of embarrassment.

"Cloud," he replies carefully, lifting his helmet just far enough to flash a fringe of spiky blond hair and one plain (faintly wary) blue eye. "Thanks for... Back there."

If it's anything to judge by, the way Aerith instantly jolts on her barrel at his name suggests that powder keg is already starting to light.

"Cloud?! Why didn't you say someth--oh! I should've known--" She's already getting up and zooming closer with an expression that's excited behind the surprise, but then a thought later her cheeks start puffing out irritably. Oh, and he was probably so smug about her using his idea, too! "You better not have been making fun of...

"...Me?"

Just a smidge too late noticing the eyes there, Aerith. She stops altogether except for tilting her head in confusion, leaning forward in an attempt to see more under his helmet.

Dropping his helmet back into place, he jumps clean out of his skin - first for her shouting his name, and then for the way she practically rushes him, as he backs hastily away. His retreat is barred by the rim of a barrel hitting him square in the back, though, and so he's mostly relegated to leaning as far back as he can from that fearsome glare.

"Wh-What?! I-I wasn't-" Beneath his now slightly askew visor, his wince is obvious, but eventually he resolves to hold his ground. (Not that there's anywhere else to go, really, without pushing past her - and he's not quite that mortified, yet.) Holding up his hands in both an attempt to ward her off and open surrender, Cloud shakes his head emphatically. "I- Don't even know who you are!"

"It's Aerith!" There's dismay tinging that automatic response, but fortunately for Cloud she then takes a little time to think, giving him space when she straightens up. Cloud looks younger... and he doesn't remember her? Was he just having a funny dream, or did it have something to do with that awful darkness that had chased him? She had a bad feeling with what the shadows had reminded her of. "...I mean... I did just tell you." She rocks back and forth on her feet, twistingly, turning away. "Well, goodness. I didn't think there were two guys named Cloud."

Of course, she knows that's not it. But if he's just having a funny dream, she can still have a little fun with him and tease him next time. If it's not that, she really has to figure out what it is, so she wants to keep things going just a little longer rather than wreck the dream right away.

Edited (i need some sleep like whoa) 2012-04-18 05:54 (UTC)

"I'm sorry," he tries, haltingly, as he sets his feet back down on the floor with room to breathe, again. "I don't know an Aerith."

Although he'd like to be able to say that he does, given that it seems to be a fairly serious offense not to recollect anything of the girl in the pink dress before him. It's more than enough to make him wonder what kind of person this other Cloud is supposed to be - to provoke that kind of response. Or what he'd be doing at home in a Shinra trooper's uniform, which hadn't prompted any sort of comment.

The sound of his shuffling feet precedes a weak shrug, but he doesn't move from where he stands, curiously watching her back. "Well- But I guess I do, now."

Much as she knows she shouldn't, the apology has her surreptitiously giggling. Poor, poor Cloud. Even more of a confused boy than ever, and this time the confusion's her fault, isn't it? If only a little.

"That's right!" She turns back to him, giving a decisive nod. "Don't forget. I'm--" Hmmm, how to introduce herself to Cloud like this--? "A flower girl, from Midgar." It's an old standby, not the most accurate (especially for her now) but familiar for her to give. "And I can guess what you do. Are you stationed here? Mm, in Junon I mean. I don't know where the rocky bits came from. Is it Mt. Nibel...?"

She really should stop thinking out loud.

Well, now it's his turn to laugh.

"Flowers? In Midgar? That's-" Like finding materia in Wutai, probably. Only a lot less profitable, in the long run. (Or the short, actually. It almost makes him feel better about his own salary.) Shaking his head, he attempts not to end on too skeptical a note. "...Pretty ambitious."

All of the good humor in his expression evaporates in an instant (if possible, he even appears to pale), however, at that casual question he's sure he didn't mishear. Much as he might want to think he did. Nibelheim isn't so big a town that he could easily suspect her of being another native of the isolated mountain village - but even that isn't the strangest part of the mention. The fact that she brought it up at all is more than suspect enough, all on its own.

"What do you know about... That place?"

"It's easier than you think! As long as you're willing to work hard." Which may sound a bit contradictory, but her flowers are obstinately contradictory just by existing. (Much like herself at times.)

But then she's distracted by his...is he upset? Why'd he call it "that place"? She knows not many people go through there, but it seems strange that he reacts like that just to someone knowing about it. ...Does he remember something bad about it...? Considering "bad things Cloud might remember in the mountains" that Aerith knows (and knowing so little of his childhood), the concerned look for him is rather blatant as she tips her head, touching her chin lightly. What is with this dream?

"It...hasn't always been kind to him. The Cloud I know. But that's in the past. Right, all in the past!" Too bad you can't toss barrels at bad memories. Not literally, anyway. Deciding to move on, she clasps her hands behind her back and rocks a bit on her feet. "Now, I've been there. On the way to Rocket Town. It's cold and high up, and the air is wispy with fog. It's not really good for flowers, but the ones that do grow are hardy."

She is a flower girl, after all. She notices that sort of thing.

Then she realizes--hey, if she's playing dumb, she might as well get into the part. She's not supposed to know where he's from if they're strangers, right? Maybe she can sneak out an answer on what's bugging him. "Hey, is it my turn to test you now? What do you know about the mountain?"

"...It's where I'm from. Nibelheim," he admits, at length, though it makes no change in the way he's becoming further withdrawn by the second. Unkind is not exactly what he'd call the town he's only too recently escaped for greener pastures - or the idea of them someday existing, where he is now, at any rate. Hateful is what it is, outside his home and his only family (both of which he'd all too willingly abandoned, he remembers).

But it isn't only the people living up in those mountains that can be exceptionally cruel; the mountains themselves are treacherous enough to drive most travelers to alternate routes. If it isn't the wolves or the things that lurk up beyond the reactor, it's the winding mazes of caves or the thin air or the dangerous drops into rock spike-filled ravines - he doesn't think it an insult to say she hasn't exactly struck him as the type to brave that kind of peril just for idle sightseeing. More like a fair assessment.

"Nobody I've met since I left's really heard of it. That's all."

"I'm a little different from most people," she says easily, lightly smiling, because it's true--and it took her a long time to be okay with that, but now that her strangeness lets her help others, it's so much easier to accept. "I traveled to a lot of places."

Still the terseness of Cloud's responses isn't going unnoticed, especially when he even says something like "That's all" when it really isn't all. "Not to be nosy, but I am a little worried about you," she adds, deciding to be frank. If he's going to clam up when she--for once!--tries to be subtle, maybe she should just stick to the usual. "Having such a bad dream and all."

"Don't worry about me." If he was short, before, now he's downright stern - because she's taking pity on him for no reason he can see, and that isn't something he needs. Maybe he isn't the strongest or the smartest, but even with all the trouble it takes just pulling himself through, he won't accept being looked down upon.

"Everybody has bad dreams." Though even as he says this, Cloud doesn't appear to register that he might be having one of his own, right now. He draws away farther, stepping back toward the stairs leading down and out, fidgeting again with the strap of his rifle.

"Oh, why am I not surprised?" Because this is reminding her about how Cloud was when she first met him--like he still is sometimes--but it still makes her huff in exasperation. "And I bet you'd worry if it was someone else. Are you going to leave me here on my own?"

Her accusation earns a more immediate reaction than any confusing, frustrated aside- He stops in his tracks, straightening up with a brief, startled jerk, to the full extent of his (not very high) height.

"Of course not! I'm just-" With another deeply serious frown, he rounds back on the open end of the room, busted out window, pink-clad stranger and all. "Going to make sure the coast is clear."

His statement of intent probably only serves to prove her point (and his hypocrisy), but-

(What kind of guy do you think I am?)

Her point is proven indeed, and she puts her hands on her hips to emphasize this. "I can do that too."

"S'dangerous." And now he just sounds mulish, as if the better part of him knows for a fact any further protesting on his part won't stop hers, no matter how eloquently worded. Or completely logical.

"You should wait here," he says, anyway, if only because it's his job to do, as he sets his shoulders and starts for the stairs again.

He's got Aerith pegged; font of maturity that she is, she humphs before simply following him, objection or no. (If it hadn't been that she'd likely shoulder him--which is rude--she would have rushed to beat him to the stairs. Which is not rude when Cloud is Being A Boy.)

"I'm used to danger. You didn't notice that already?"

"Fine. I guess." He can't claim to be too terribly surprised by that kind of response, but it doesn't mean he'll soften his stance any. Maybe it's not the worst thing to have some company while poking around in this eerie ghost town rendition of Junon (dashed here and there with a little of Modeoheim's treacherous mountain pass).

That creepy quiet prevails, down below, and he steels himself for the worst as he begins clomping noisily down the staircase to the slightly worse for the wear shop's front room.

It's completely the wrong moment for a "hee!" from Aerith, but that's exactly what she does because Cloud has caved.

He clomps, but she tiptoes; her light footsteps punctuated only by a soft squeak from the well-worn boots.

"Anyway, we worked together pretty well before. Just think of it as insurance. ...It is kind of creepy..."

She wouldn't have enjoyed being in this place on her own either. Not one bit. What she thinks of most is the store front and the monsters they laid out flat; and when the quiet starts creeping back in after her voice it's enough to make her slip to the door, cracking it open to make sure that they're still perfectly laid out flat.

Hopefully she can't hear his sigh from under the sound of his boots on so much creaky, well-worn staircase. He hasn't worked with civilians near enough to develop any sort of automatic rapport with anybody who isn't just barking orders at him (outside the rare exception), though, and she seems to be making a special effort to be weirdly exasperating.

Even if she does have a point. Sort of.

"Creepy?" he wonders aloud, wandering around an empty row of shelving, briefly losing track of her. There could be something more that'll be useful, lying around here, and- By the time he remembers he's supposed to be in the lead, she's already at the front door. "Hey, stand back from there!"

Picking up his gun again, Cloud runs over to the storefront to join her, but there's nothing outside. No squashed bodies, no more monsters charging - only a little standing forest of half-smashed and splintered barrels, a short walk of cement, and then the misty, whirling wall of the blizzard.

She thinks she hears something, directing a questioning look at Cloud's back on the stairs. But honestly Cloud is someone who in her opinion gets exasperated easily, so she doesn't pay it any especial mind.

The door is a completely separate matter once she sees what's past it. Her seal would have worn off completely by now...and the monsters are all gone? She's not one to be a pessimist but that sight is not a reassuring one.

"Um..." Aerith's just going to carefully shut that door. And bolt it in case. "I don't really want to go out that way. How about we try...that one?"

Most shops have more than one door, after all: a front and a back is typical, and the back is what Aerith points out now.

"Huh?"

He only catches a glimpse of what lies beyond before she shuts and bolts the door, but none of it looks distinctly amiss, to him- His mind is clearing a little, though (and perhaps too literally), as the fear dissipates as quickly as the world outside seems to have done. Wakefulness is no more than a few steps away, with the trap of his nightmare competently thwarted, and when she indicates the other door, he nods and pivots roundly on a heel.

The narrow alleyway beyond the shop's back exit he can already picture with an almost uncanny clarity, dark cement and steel building sides lined with rusty piping and the few stray garbage bins, all of it slightly darker with damp - from the wind of the sea and humidity of a smoggy coastal spring, or maybe a passing drizzle of rain. The sound of a stray clattering away from one of those cans in a hurry as he opens the door abruptly will make him jump, startled, but the thin strip of grey turning blue sky overhead might be pleasant enough, after this, to turn away any more thoughts of fog and snow.

"All right. Let's go."

The transition between his former nightmare and the patch of dreamless sleep just before waking is oddly peaceful, as he steps out.

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oo1 ❄ I've seen this somewhere before

BUT!! ; 3;

OVERRULED :D

/CRIES

There there Cloud. One day you'll be older. ...And teased more.

Never gonna win...

<3 ...and never gonna stop finding yourself in awkward moments

Life is obviously terrible. :(

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Want to wrap up soon? I'm blanking on how to continue

lol yes, I have no idea where I'm going with this anymore either