oo2 ❄ I've got friends locked in boxes, that's no way to live

[anonfantry]

[ They were five-and-twenty artificial soldiers. One through twenty-four a perfect set, prized by their creator and the ruler they served, and he the last, the one built of spare and scrap left over from the rest.

Many a time, he had considered this an utterly unconscionable cruelty - that he should have been made, at all, of inferior metal and unfinished, as he was. With one whole leg missing, he would never be able to match his brethren in prowess or efficiency as a weapon, but somehow not even such a glaring deficiency had spared him this fate of inadequacy. So much as his inferiority had isolated and internally embittered him, though, over the years, it had also made him determined.

As all living things, even machines, were given to the will to survive, he had developed a fearsome dedication to proving himself useful to spite his innate failings. While the other soldiers marched off to fight, to pursue the grandest quests at the behest of their leader, he would stay behind - standing guard vigilantly at the gate of the great tower wherein their ruler resided, until the inevitable return of those (fewer and fewer than) twenty-four. It was from here that he would watch over what that he could, ever diligent, still close enough that should he be needed for any menial task, it would be no trouble at all to call on him, but neatly tucked out of the way, in the meantime, leaning on the long rifle at his side as a crutch only in the instances when his precarious balance failed him.

Ordinarily, that was. He would stand still and stalwart as a statue through rain and wind and drifting snow, unflinching (lest one look closely enough to discern the slightest shift), but on this perfectly pleasant Spring day, his post stood curiously vacant.

They wouldn't miss him, he'd thought, for one evening of absence. He would hurry back just as quick as he could, once he'd had done with his business in the city. (And on this point, he was very gravely serious with himself, for he'd heard the infrequent gossip among the passersby who oft visited his grand benefactor, always talk of putting him to better use by melting him down for spare parts. A fate anyone should wish to avoid.) But the draw of this particular sight had been impossible to resist.

Not three days had passed since the parade procession had marched past his well-worn divot in the stone of the tower courtyard, the traveling band of circus performers still every bit as bright and vividly colorful in his memory, now. On the whole, such a distraction would not usually have been enough drawn him away from his sworn duty - but among the rabble he had glimpsed one most elegant performer. A dancer, of some sort, he'd imagined, not so worldly as to know the proper term. A dancer who swept and spun so gracefully on tiptoe, one foot on the ground, it was almost like floating.

Since then, he'd become fixated on the brief memory, certain that if only he could learn to be so capable, as he was, then surely he'd be allowed to prove himself on the battlefield just like the others. And it was with this in mind that he set out on the city streets, moving as inconspicuously as a one-legged, mechanical soldier could. ]


[ ooc: All aboard the tl;dr express for a very special rendition of The Steadfast Tin Soldier (summary in case you're already tired of those deer), starring Mini Cloud as the eponymous soldier and... everybody else, as either the ballerina or the goblin or one of the other soldiers or literally anything else you can possibly imagine.

Of course, it's up to individual discretion whether or not this version ends up as horribly as the original. :3c ]

Comments

they can have GREAT ADVENTURES together, y/y?

[waterfell]

[But the soldier was destined for adventures, and before long, a little girl spotted him. She had been sitting patiently on a bench, reading a grown-up novel with many big words, but the tin soldier caught her eye and she marked her place with a finger as she looked at him more closely.]

You have one leg. [This was obvious, of course, but it seemed the most striking thing about him, and it bothered the girl a little that he had been left in that condition. After a moment, she thought of what to do.]

Maybe we can make you a new one. That way, you can balance better and walk more easily.

if by great you mean ADORABLE then yes. yes indeed

[anonfantry]

[ Drawing such direct attention wasn't something he was all that accustomed to - of course, once in a while, the visitors who came by his court would do more than simply glance in passing, and he did occasional have to task himself with the tiresome chore of escorting off any boorish, unwelcome guests.

But being spoken to was a rarity, outside orders or the others just like him, and he stiffened so sharply as his wobbling gait came to halt that he nearly went toppling over entire. ] H-Huh?

[ A little girl, with a book much bigger than she ought to have? He'd seen odder things, in his short life, surely, but few as surprising as that strangely innocent observation. Curiosity without a hint of disdain was a new one, on him.

Pity that he hadn't the time to discuss his position further. ]

I manage. [ For emphasis, he hefted himself another foot forward with the help of his trusty rifle, turning away. ] Don't worry about me.

<333

[waterfell]

[Addressing the tin soldier wasn't unusual for the girl known to use formal speech even with stuffed animals. Her curiosity was the driving force.]

Where are you going? Is there a battle? [The little girl's mind was already filling itself with all the things a toy soldier could do, as if despite calling attention to it, she didn't believe the single leg would truly limit him.]

[anonfantry]

No. I'm going to-

[ Where? To the circus? To see if there was some trick to a simple feat he should have mastered long before now?

Even to a child, that seemed a silly thing to admit, and so he shook his head and amended the thought. He hadn't ever been very adept at spinning lies, either, though. ]

...Somewhere else.

... I MISSED MY CHANCE TO MAKE A BALLET-FU JOKE. oh well. XD

[waterfell]

[She'd offered to help, but she doesn't offer again, having been rebuffed once. She's used to the way people find her a bit odd, and stay away. She'd like to convince herself she prefers it.

So when the little girl speaks again, it's not with an offer to carry him there, or help him on his way.]

Will you find what you're looking for there?

The night is young and dreams are weird. Maybe they should run off and join the circus together

[anonfantry]

[ It was awfully awkward to try to keep walking, with her asking strange things like that, stopping him up each tie with another uncertain wobble.

So he quit, altogether, planting his bayonet firmly between two stones of the city street. He didn't turn all the way around, but he glanced back- ]

I don't know. [ After all, there was a lot out here, in the frighteningly busy world, which he hadn't ever seen, before. Much less on his own. How would he do better to find what he needed? ] Maybe.

that would be hilariously epic

[waterfell]

[The child considered this.]

Then how do you know you should go? [After all, in her simpler logic, it was still best to be sure of oneself before going ahead.]

[anonfantry]

[ In turn, the incomplete soldier paused - though it was unclear whether he meant to consider his answer more carefully or simply didn't have one. In the end, it seemed to be some of both. ]

...I just do.

[ His shrug would have to suffice by way of further explanation. ]

[waterfell]

[The girl nodded, as if wise beyond her years.]

I think I understand. Sometimes, you don't understand it, but you know what you want to know.

[In fact, it may have been one of those very moments.]

I want to come, too.

[anonfantry]

What?

[ He shuffled back a half-step, preemptively - about as far as he could freely move, without trouble. ]

But- You can't.

[ The soldier may not have known much of the world outside his well-worn post, but he did know that small children belonged with their parents, and not wandering off in the company of strange tin men (no matter how short, one-legged, and wholly non-threatening). He was already worried enough for the trouble he'd get into were he not quick enough on his return to guard; dragging along another into the wake of this potentially condemning act didn't sound like such a great idea. ]

[waterfell]

I've never been that far away before. I want to see what's there. [Always curious, always questing, always destined for the ends of the very universe.]

Of course I'll go home to Mama afterward.

[anonfantry]

It's... Too dangerous.

[ Too vague, but he didn't have convincing in mind - it shouldn't take much to dissuade someone so young, the soldier supposed. With rust or merely the gravity in the gesture, he shook his head slowly. ]

You'd better stay here.

The prettiest ballerina

[nohometown]

[It came so easily to him, every movement, every moment. He was perfectly trained, the star of the circus: tireless, called flawless.

Dancing was his life, and why shouldn't it be? He was the best at it, and people came from miles around to see the tall, pale-haired dancer who could dance almost like he was flying. No one could leap higher! Whirling and twirling, it was all very well and good, but it was the only thing he had done for as long as he could remember. (He'd been raised by the circus ringmaster and he didn't know who his real parents were a circumstance that wasn't suspicious at all.) Sometimes, he wished he might be able to do something else.

For though he was a peerless athlete, a graceful man who never missed a step, it was likely he would never be called to join the royal ballet, would be stuck at the circus indefinitely, because he had artistry of form, but not feeling. There was something mechanical in his movements, and his heart wasn't in them. Perhaps he didn't have one. At least, that's what some of the other performers said.

Regardless, he was dissatisfied. Restless. Today, as he stretched and practiced, he was frowning, though his movements were no less sure than they had ever been. For once in his life, he stopped practice early. He walked outside, leaving the circus tent behind, although the hour of tonight's show was fast approaching.]

The most beautiful in all the land 83c

[anonfantry]

[ By no small feat of his enduring willpower, the soldier had manage to navigate the city streets alone (the bustling marketplace, in particular, had given him pause - but eventually he'd been given a wide enough berth to pass through, as weaving among the crowd became increasingly difficult and disastrous). At last, he had come to his destination.

As he wandered into the fray, hobbling along on the support of his gun, he nearly forgot what it was he had come to see, as the warm-up acts out playing up the crowd drew him in, and the cajoling barkers at their stands of games and wares stole his attention intermittently. It was difficult to focus on any one thing, when the whole of his perception was so suddenly full of strange and new, but it was a problem that saw to solving itself, before long.

He wouldn't forget the look of that ethereal, pale stranger who had drifted through his line of sight once and then been lost - not if he lived until his joints rusted closed and his gears ground themselves down to useless wheels. And when he spotted the now familiar stranger stepping out into the crowd, himself, it was as if he might've fallen into disrepair, already.

Freezing on the spot was nearly ingrained as a form of self-defense, so long as he'd managed on that alone - but out of his station, it was a poor choice. Being a statue in the midst of a milling crowd only did more to highlight his presence, a uniformed soldier out of war and any hint of his element.

He might also have been staring, but it was difficult to discern with any certainty where he was looking, under the helmet he wore. ]

/pirouettes

[nohometown]

[He walked smoothly through the crowd, and it parted for him, as it usually did. People tended to notice him, to move aside for him. He was noticeable. Some knew him as a dancer and looked upon him admiringly, but he wasn't moved by their admiration, for the most part. Not that he minded it; it was simply what he was used to. He'd always been admired, for he'd always stood out.

He was different.

And so, at least in this moment, was the soldier standing stock-still in the midst of the crowd, not drifting out of his path as most others did. He was difficult to miss, because this wasn't his proper place. He was gray among colors, still amid movement. The dancer didn't assume that the soldier was staring at him, though he was facing in his general direction. He was also, the dancer saw, a soldier with one leg. How curious. The dancer wondered what it must be like to be a soldier, to protect people, instead of dancing endlessly in circles.

The dancer was a quiet man, but he wasn't shy in the least, and he didn't hesitate to approach.] Good evening.

/...silently rusts in appreciation

[anonfantry]

[ He wouldn't be able to say, if asked.

He could tell the dancer what it was like to face endless stone staircases day in and day out, to haul feed and dig plots and stand motionless for days on end as the world moved on without looking back, and to do it all on one foot. And perhaps somewhere in all of that, he could posit what it must be like to protect the lives of important people, to be courageous and proud outside of one's own mind - but it would be just that. A speculation based on nothing more than the stories of his able comrades.

As matters stood, though, such elaboration would have been with quite an endeavor; speaking at all seemed questionable among his limited set of skills, as his effort not to be noticed backfired spectacularly.

With some marked reluctance (or perhaps simply the mark of disrepair - the soldier was going a bit creaky around the joints), he looked up to the stranger he had envied so greatly for the past few days. Unlike his appearance, his voice was quiet and human, cautiously reserved. ]

Hello.

aww cloud

[nohometown]

You've come to watch the performance, I assume.

[That was what most people were here for, so why wouldn't he be? There was always the audience, faceless and usually nameless. They didn't matter much to him, a distant throng that faded into silence, even nothingness, when he was dancing.

For when he was actually dancing, he found it hard to care about anything else. He was doing what he was meant to do, what he excelled at. It was only when he was still that he stopped to think and wonder why he did what he did. And then, he wasn't sure of the answer.

Not unlike the soldier in his way, the dancer was quiet, one difference being that he didn't feel awkward about that fact, or the fact that small talk was not easy for him.]

You won't have long to wait.

[anonfantry]

I-

[ He very nearly agreed, in spite of himself, almost decided on the spot to take the easy way out and fade back into the crowd.

But watching from afar wouldn't teach him anything; he had seen that poise and grace at a distance, already, and he was nowhere nearer to achieving such competence of movement, himself. Shaking his head carefully, the soldier shifted his weight off the weapon at his side and made his best attempt at standing tall as he amended that thought. ]

I came to see you. Because I wanted to meet you, I mean.

[nohometown]

[He's silent for a moment. He doesn't express any particular emotion, though he hadn't quite been expecting that.]

Did you? I see.

[People don't tend to focus on him as an individual, more interested in the performance itself, wanting to watch what he can do.]

And so you have. [He inclines his head. There may be wryness in his words, but he isn't mocking. He's curious.] A pleasure to meet you. But may I ask why?

[anonfantry]

[ Mocking or not, the tone in those words strikes him just the same - he stiffens, going on the defensive, again. But there's some steel in him, beneath all that flimsy tin.

He desperately doesn't want to walk away empty-handed, without even having attempted to ask. Cautiously, he lifts his gaze. ]

I want to learn. How to move like you do, so that I can fight alongside the others like me.

[ The calm in his own voice surprises even him, as inwardly he prepares to be laughed off the fairground entirely. ]

[nohometown]

[Sorry, soldier, the dancer has something of a sarcastic streak and isn't very good at not hurting feelings. But he meant no harm, only joking in his strange, cold way. He spends most of his time dancing. He doesn't spend it socializing. So he doesn't even notice the soldier's reaction to his words.

The soldier's words, however, he doesn't ignore. That's--interesting. Unexpected. He doesn't laugh. (Or even mockingly smile, since he's not often given to laughter.) He's quite serious.]

You believe that moving like I do would be useful in battle?

[It's a possibility he's never considered before. Dancing is not fighting. But it makes sense, now that he finally does think of it, and he can see why the soldier might want to learn, why he might need to. To compensate for his missing leg. But how to teach what Sephiroth has known all his life, as long as he can remember?]

I've never taught anyone before. I do not know if it can be taught.

[That wasn't a no. He's thinking.]

[anonfantry]

I do.

[ Bolstered a little by the lack of ridicule (or even that passing note of not-quite-disdain) in his reply, the soldier straightens a bit under that odd scrutiny. Even laughter wouldn't have coerced him into giving up his dream, but there's something more in that equitable answer.

He isn't a hopeless individual, made of metal inside and out or not, but he does have something of an unimaginative mindset. His expectations aren't grand, even if his aspirations strive to be.

Sephiroth's ambiguous answer almost confirms the worst, in fact. If there'd been any definite hint in it, one way or the other, Cloud might've backed off as quickly as he'd offered up his probably ridiculous notion. As it stands, though, he manages to hold his ground a moment more. ]

Does that mean... You wouldn't try?

[nohometown]

I can see your point.

[He hadn't thought of it before, of other uses his gifts might have, but now that he does, it makes sense to him. Many ways of life depend on movement, on strength, on agility, on endurance. Those things weren't limited to dance.

At the suggestion that there might be something he wouldn't try, that he would admit to failure before even beginning an attempt, Sephiroth was decided. Hadn't he just been wishing for something else to do, something entirely new? And here, by chance, he'd met a stranger who had asked him a question that changed things.

Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe this one-legged soldier couldn't learn. Maybe it was a ridiculous idea. But he wouldn't begin with that attitude. He had always excelled at other things, so why not at this? He would make an earnest attempt.]

No. I will try, if you will try to learn.

I hope this isn't too late.. /pokes head in shyly

[endtome]

[There was something about the circus that always said-- 'home'. Maybe it was the way the stoic ringmaster could be brought into a ferocious blush by a few teasing acrobats. Or perhaps the animals, trained and so friendly, affectionate. Nothing was greater than a sense of community, and no matter where Ventus went, he always had that. 'Home'. It's where the heart was.]

[He's not...exactly, the dancer Cloud's looking for. But he is a dancer! Just a trainee, though. His twirls wobble a little, and he has to catch himself from falling, but he looks like he's having fun. When one leg can't hold him up anymore, he doesn't come to rest; planting his hands on the ground, he spins round-- with a lot more grace than he had on two feet, before finding his balance and practicing a pirrouette once more.]

[Maybe he knows where that dancer is. The good one.]

it's never too laaaaate ♥ 3♥

[anonfantry]

[ This place is quite far removed from the cold civility of the tower, that's for certain. The farther he wanders into the fairground, transformed from one very ordinary, relatively level plain of empty land and into some strange, new vibrant world, the further out of his element he feels. In fact, it seems to be only by sheer luck that he stumbles across the practicing dancer amidst the circus' sea of cheerful chaos.

The sight draws him up to a halt, startled with immediate recognition - until he catches one of those not-quite-perfected moves and- No, he hasn't found the right one, yet. Hopping carefully to a stop nearby, the soldier watches on for a moment before attempting just as clumsily to introduce himself. ]

Excuse me?