oo3 ❄ stuck on repeat

[anonfantry]

[ Well, it's not exactly a novel dream - the perfectly formed scenery fits the desert island cliché to a T, though it's quite a bit more expansive than a rock with two palm trees sticking out of the middle. Above the rolling dunes that sweep down to the surf, a lush green forest rises to cover most of the visible, the tangle of trees thick enough to seem impenetrable (and half of them completely out of place, in a tropical climate). The only thing this leafy, viney (pine tree dotted) brush doesn't ensconce is the narrow mountain range rising from the center of the island. From those towering masses of land, slate grey and tipped with thin spires and a halo of fog (or perhaps smoke), volcanic activity seems the least of all potential dangers.

But all of that's merely an exciting backdrop to the true mundanity of this phantasm. Shored up at the very top of a wave of fine, yellow sand, sits a desk - plain and spare and rusting at the hinges, in no way special at all. And at it, nearly topped over in height by the towering stacks of (random, unsorted, some completely unlabeled) textbooks, sits Cloud.

Hunched intently over something - pages of notes, upon closer inspection - he pays no mind to the intermittent call of seabirds on the breeze, nor the way that lazy warm puff of air tugs at the messy spikes of his hair. He's scribbling furiously. Then considering. Then turning over the pencil in his hand and erasing with equal ferocity. Rinse, repeat, and more than once on the same line, with increasing frustration.

It's only when one of the precariously balanced texts atop his leaning tower spills over and slides down the sandy slope of the dune on the other side of the desk that he stops with a start, dropping his pencil and his notes at once. Skating around the edge of his desk, through the shifting ground, he all but dives after the book, snatching it back up and sinking to a stop in a small avalanche of sand. With an inaudible sigh of relief, Cloud digs his socked feet in (boots tucked safely into the hollow beneath his desk) and starts to haul himself back up the to the crest of the dune, and the loose pile of notes in desperate need of endless correction. ]

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[anonfantry]

[ Her pleasant description of the glorified taser's potential for damage draws his tight-lipped grimace a little thinner... But given his short and violent history serving in the infantry, so far, the thought's fairly relieving. His heart's not so weak that he thinks a nasty shock will do him any worse than her prediction, and even that doesn't sound like it quite tops a good pistol-whipping or being riddled with bullets.

If there's any advantage to being among the military's leagues of ragdoll whipping boys, it's building up a good, hearty tolerance for pain. And thinly-veiled threats of more.

It's not until she goes for his obvious, glaring weak point that she actually seems to strike a nerve. ]

Give them back! [ His voice almost cracks in his desperation, and he lunges forward to make a grab for his notes. ]

[tasercopter]

[He should be more worried. If he knew what was good for him, he would be. Turks are experts in "interrogation techniques". Not like the grunts (yes, they're all grunts to her) in the regular army--SOLIDER aside, for with hindsight, she considers SOLDIER to be mostly monsters.

Fortunately for Cloud, Reno has no desire to illustrate her talent for torture, instead brightening at his reaction, lightly avoiding his sad attempt to get his notes back.

(The latter-day Cloud would have easily crushed her by now, not that she would admit to that fact.)]

Nope. Let's see, what've we got here?

[She's sure these are going to be some boooring notes, but she'll make a show of checking them out all the same.]

[anonfantry]

[ If Cloud knew what was good for him, a lot of things in his life might've gone differently.

But, as it stands, he doesn't come anywhere near to having that level of common sense, and there comes no point in this ill-advised argument, yet, when he feels the odds might fall better in his favor for backing off. He takes another swipe at his notes, but the action's probably pointless, now. He'd have to tackle her bodily to do any measure of damage - and that he isn't quite willing to do, either.

For all the show he puts on, however, there really isn't much to see, scribbled among the blurs of graphite half-erased one too many times, his hand is near to completely illegible. A few familiar words stand out, here and there, but the longer he can't correct them, the further their clarity deteriorates. ]

[tasercopter]

[It's wise of Cloud to avoid tackling her bodily. That might actually make her mad. She looks over the notes, managing to catch a few words before they deteriorate into incoherence.]

What? This is what you're working on? [Reno sighs. Seeing the younger Cloud like this is enough to make her feel kind of sorry for him.]

Look, just-- You'd be better off forgetting all this, y'know. It's a bunch of shit. SOLDIER and all that. It's all gonna fucking fall apart.