|icedark_elf (icedark_elf) wrote in mercverse,|
@ 2009-11-09 03:49:00
|Entry tags:||chaos, cloud, fanfic, sephiroth, vincent, zack|
Five Ficlets: Mercverse
Five Ficlets: yuenoclow: Mercverse
Few things are as hyper or as wild as a child. Zack knew he was no exception to the rule. Hell, he was pretty sure he was more hyper than most, but he never had learned how to stay calm. Cloud said it was the other in his blood, most likely. Just something to accept and go with.
Zack wondered, sometimes, what it was that made him different than human. Did he have demon blood? Was there a mage accident in his family’s background somewhere? Those things were known to have happen, even if he would never find out for sure.
Right now, he had a zoo to explore. He had never been to a zoo before, and was now set on dragging Cloud along to make him explain -everything-.
It’s what family was for, after all.
While they had been young, Vincent loved to sit outside in the snow and watch it come down. A half-blood, he wasn’t so worried about the chill that came with snow, just like how his mother ignored it totally unless she couldn’t fly.
It interested him, really, how snow when it was falling could look so similar, but when you looked at it up close, it was always different.
Like him and Chaos.
He had taken more after their father, calmer, more human, where Chaos…. Chaos was their mother made over male. Full of fire and life and passion, his eyes flashing bright at everything. The long hair they shared suited his wild brother, just as it didn’t fit with Vincent at all.
Which was why Chaos found Vincent, hours later, sitting outside still, his own long hair cut away, black upon the snow.
The stars were always there. Cold, glittering bits of light in the sky that, no matter how high he flew, he would never be able to catch.
They reminded him of Vincent, in a way.
Chaos’s brother sometimes seemed cold, out of touch. Part of it was the fact that Vincent seemed to get more of the human. He was calmer, colder than Chaos would ever be.
He would also always be there.
That made everything right with Chaos’s world.
Life had a rhythm. Ups and downs, good times, bad. Births and deaths, time to eat, to sleep, to be with one another.
Magic was the same way. It had its patterns and cadence, moved to its own dance.
Magic sang its way through Sephiroth’s veins. Had since he had been born, as far as he knew. His father told stories about how things would move around Sephiroth, things would change, would warp. Reality itself bent to the whim of the child who was too young to be aware of what he did.
Sephiroth hated it, sometimes. Hated the gleam that was in his father’s eyes when he spoke of it, hated the fact that his childhood had been stripped away so that he could be taught how to manipulate the powers, to call them to heel.
But he loved the dance, and moved gracefully to the magic’s demands. For that and that alone he learned.
It was all in the rhythm of the power.
He wished that he had been born with wings.
Quarter blooded. Not enough. Not like Vincent or Chaos, who could spread the wings tattooed on their backs into real flesh and blood and take to the skies as if they had been born to them. Which, in a way, they had.
He couldn’t be like Sephiroth, who could call those winds to do his bidding, who could call summons to carry him through the air, hair whipping behind him like a silver banner.
Zack couldn’t fly, but he didn’t seem to feel the need. For him, the leaps that he could make, that timeless moment where he thought he would never come down, those were enough for him. He had told Cloud as much when the other had wistfully commented about flying.
Cloud wished he had been born different. Then maybe he would have had the wings he had always wanted. Maybe he would be long dead. Maybe none of this would matter now.
He enjoyed the times when Vincent or Chaos would take him with them. Or Sephiroth would pull him onto the summons and he would feel the air through his hair. Sometimes, that last moment in a jump, before the world dragged him back to itself, he could almost feel it.
Cloud longed to fly. He knew he would always be denied it, just like death, and someone he wouldn’t lose. Always there, never in reach. The moment he got one, he knew that the others would be possible.
And so he continued on each day and wished that he could fly.