![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Because some people can't get to my ff.net page, I'll post my first chapter here.
In Black and White
Chapter 1
Rebirth
Often in his relatively short and miserable life, Sephiroth had found himself wondering if perhaps he was being kept alive merely to sate someone’s sick sense of humor. As of now he was almost convinced this was so.
Groaning, he raised his shaking left arm and brought it to his opposite shoulder, probing the wound just below his collarbone. Pain shot through both his shoulder and arm and he screamed into the cold night air. Amazing that he was still alive, especially so because of the rocks that pinned him down at the bottom of the crater. Only his arm and upper torso were uncovered. He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, considering the bitter chill that nipped at his skin.
He breathed deeply and bit down hard on his lower lip, then wrenched his right arm from beneath the slab of granite. Blood streamed from the bite he gave himself and the spot on his arm where he’d scraped off the skin. He lay back, panting, already feeling the Jenova cells starting to regenerate the missing skin. Even after she was supposed to be all kinds of dead, Jenova’s influence stayed on. At least I can’t hear her, he thought. Avalanche must have really killed her.
But what if she comes back?
He refused to think about that. “Gotta… Gotta finish this,” he gasped, needing to hear something other than the howl of the wind and the grating of rock on bone. Gripping the boulder that lay over his stomach, he pushed it to the side, muscles bulging, sweat dripping from his pores. Four stones, a strangled cry, and an hour and a half later, Sephiroth lay on his back, naked except for pants that were more hole than fabric and covered in blood. Surveying his wounds, he guessed that his legs were crushed, his right shoulder sliced open, and at least three of his ribs broken. The rest of his injuries were mostly cuts, bruises and scrapes, though he suspected internal bleeding. Still, he told himself, it could have been worse. I’d really rather not try to see if Jenova cells will regenerate whole limbs.
For three days he rested, enduring the cold and the maddening itch that comes with healing. While he waited he reflected on Jenova, and his connection with her, and what he would do to keep her from taking over him again. His thoughts were a mess of half-remembered memories and illogical psychobabble he’d picked up from Professor Gast.
The scent of blood was sharp and intoxicating in his nostrils. Cloud stared at him, horrified, and the rest of his friends did the same behind him. The Cetra slumped over, held up by the Masamune, her blissful smile frozen in death. It had been quick, at least. Not like it would be for Cloud. He smiled, filled with a joy that was not his own, and opened his mouth to speak…
Probably would have happened some way or another, whether you found out about her or not. It was just easier for her to use you this way.
But I still went along with it.
Only at first. It’s not your fault she convinced you to keep going.
Cool green water surrounded him. No, not water. Mako. The Lifestream. He’d fallen into the reactor; Cloud had thrown him in with some inhuman strength. It didn’t matter. The soothing voice was telling him to wait, to heal, to hide in the shadows and seize his opportunity. What opportunity? he’d asked.
Why, she said, the opportunity to control the Planet. To become a god.
But I went along with it.
She tricked you. You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it.
You don’t understand. I wanted it. I wanted that power. I hated the humans for what they did, then and now. I wanted revenge, for Jenova and myself. For everything, not just two thousand year old slights; for my life.
I went along with it, even though I knew deep down that it was wrong.
Three days of this and Sephiroth was beyond sick of it all. He was determined to go by that time, whether his injuries were healed or not. As it was, he was able to walk, and would be able to defend himself should the need arise, if just barely. He stumbled over rubble and into the maze of caverns that lead to the surface, grabbing the Masamune from a pile of stones near where he had fallen. He gripped it tightly, flexing the muscles in his right arm. Something felt off; the muscles in his shoulder were still mending. Well, it would have to do for now. He straightened up, slung the sword over his shoulder, and started off into the darkness.
It was going to be a very long walk.
* * *
Bone Village lay on the edge of the Sleeping Forest, a rambling mass of tents and rough, unpainted clapboard houses, inhabited by excavators, archeologists, and their families. It was obviously not the height of civilization by any means. There was a radio used to contact the mainland in the main structure, a long house that most people dubbed the town meeting house, along with the only television within fifty miles. Unless someone took a boat to the mainland and trekked across the plains to Rocket Town, or the townspeople were completely isolated, and they knew it.
But it was amazing how fast they could communicate with the rest of the world when they believed themselves in danger.
Sephiroth ducked as the pickaxe hurtled over his head and crashed into the side of a building. He slid into the gap between a pair of houses and ran for the next street, keeping his head down. Shouting from behind told him that he’d have company as soon as he hit the open street, but he kept on. Better to be attacked where he had room to maneuver than to be trapped in this narrow space that didn’t deserve the name alley. He looked up and almost fell on his face trying to stop. In the entrance to the street, fur bristling and teeth bared, was the feline creature called Red XIII.
The lion-like beast stepped forward, tensed to spring. Sephiroth looked back over his shoulder; a crowd of diggers, bearing pickaxes, shovels, and sharpened rocks, blocked the other end. He cursed. Back from the grave and already his luck was out. Wait, scratch that. His luck was nonexistent. Cloud and the former Turk, Vincent Valentine, had appeared behind Red XIII. The cat must have called ahead as soon as he heard the commotion.
Something hit him in the head, knocking him forward to fall on his face. He grunted and felt the back of his head, not surprised to find it sticky with blood. His side exploded with pain; while he’d been checking himself, Red XIII had attacked, clawing at his stomach. He screamed. Healing himself had drained him, and now he was too weak to fight back. Struggling, he managed to bat the feline away before the pain got to him, and he fainted. At least I’ll leave a beautiful corpse, he thought before consciousness left him. Too bad they’ll tear me apart before they can enjoy it.
Chapter 1
Rebirth
Often in his relatively short and miserable life, Sephiroth had found himself wondering if perhaps he was being kept alive merely to sate someone’s sick sense of humor. As of now he was almost convinced this was so.
Groaning, he raised his shaking left arm and brought it to his opposite shoulder, probing the wound just below his collarbone. Pain shot through both his shoulder and arm and he screamed into the cold night air. Amazing that he was still alive, especially so because of the rocks that pinned him down at the bottom of the crater. Only his arm and upper torso were uncovered. He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, considering the bitter chill that nipped at his skin.
He breathed deeply and bit down hard on his lower lip, then wrenched his right arm from beneath the slab of granite. Blood streamed from the bite he gave himself and the spot on his arm where he’d scraped off the skin. He lay back, panting, already feeling the Jenova cells starting to regenerate the missing skin. Even after she was supposed to be all kinds of dead, Jenova’s influence stayed on. At least I can’t hear her, he thought. Avalanche must have really killed her.
But what if she comes back?
He refused to think about that. “Gotta… Gotta finish this,” he gasped, needing to hear something other than the howl of the wind and the grating of rock on bone. Gripping the boulder that lay over his stomach, he pushed it to the side, muscles bulging, sweat dripping from his pores. Four stones, a strangled cry, and an hour and a half later, Sephiroth lay on his back, naked except for pants that were more hole than fabric and covered in blood. Surveying his wounds, he guessed that his legs were crushed, his right shoulder sliced open, and at least three of his ribs broken. The rest of his injuries were mostly cuts, bruises and scrapes, though he suspected internal bleeding. Still, he told himself, it could have been worse. I’d really rather not try to see if Jenova cells will regenerate whole limbs.
For three days he rested, enduring the cold and the maddening itch that comes with healing. While he waited he reflected on Jenova, and his connection with her, and what he would do to keep her from taking over him again. His thoughts were a mess of half-remembered memories and illogical psychobabble he’d picked up from Professor Gast.
The scent of blood was sharp and intoxicating in his nostrils. Cloud stared at him, horrified, and the rest of his friends did the same behind him. The Cetra slumped over, held up by the Masamune, her blissful smile frozen in death. It had been quick, at least. Not like it would be for Cloud. He smiled, filled with a joy that was not his own, and opened his mouth to speak…
Probably would have happened some way or another, whether you found out about her or not. It was just easier for her to use you this way.
But I still went along with it.
Only at first. It’s not your fault she convinced you to keep going.
Cool green water surrounded him. No, not water. Mako. The Lifestream. He’d fallen into the reactor; Cloud had thrown him in with some inhuman strength. It didn’t matter. The soothing voice was telling him to wait, to heal, to hide in the shadows and seize his opportunity. What opportunity? he’d asked.
Why, she said, the opportunity to control the Planet. To become a god.
But I went along with it.
She tricked you. You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it.
You don’t understand. I wanted it. I wanted that power. I hated the humans for what they did, then and now. I wanted revenge, for Jenova and myself. For everything, not just two thousand year old slights; for my life.
I went along with it, even though I knew deep down that it was wrong.
Three days of this and Sephiroth was beyond sick of it all. He was determined to go by that time, whether his injuries were healed or not. As it was, he was able to walk, and would be able to defend himself should the need arise, if just barely. He stumbled over rubble and into the maze of caverns that lead to the surface, grabbing the Masamune from a pile of stones near where he had fallen. He gripped it tightly, flexing the muscles in his right arm. Something felt off; the muscles in his shoulder were still mending. Well, it would have to do for now. He straightened up, slung the sword over his shoulder, and started off into the darkness.
It was going to be a very long walk.
Bone Village lay on the edge of the Sleeping Forest, a rambling mass of tents and rough, unpainted clapboard houses, inhabited by excavators, archeologists, and their families. It was obviously not the height of civilization by any means. There was a radio used to contact the mainland in the main structure, a long house that most people dubbed the town meeting house, along with the only television within fifty miles. Unless someone took a boat to the mainland and trekked across the plains to Rocket Town, or the townspeople were completely isolated, and they knew it.
But it was amazing how fast they could communicate with the rest of the world when they believed themselves in danger.
Sephiroth ducked as the pickaxe hurtled over his head and crashed into the side of a building. He slid into the gap between a pair of houses and ran for the next street, keeping his head down. Shouting from behind told him that he’d have company as soon as he hit the open street, but he kept on. Better to be attacked where he had room to maneuver than to be trapped in this narrow space that didn’t deserve the name alley. He looked up and almost fell on his face trying to stop. In the entrance to the street, fur bristling and teeth bared, was the feline creature called Red XIII.
The lion-like beast stepped forward, tensed to spring. Sephiroth looked back over his shoulder; a crowd of diggers, bearing pickaxes, shovels, and sharpened rocks, blocked the other end. He cursed. Back from the grave and already his luck was out. Wait, scratch that. His luck was nonexistent. Cloud and the former Turk, Vincent Valentine, had appeared behind Red XIII. The cat must have called ahead as soon as he heard the commotion.
Something hit him in the head, knocking him forward to fall on his face. He grunted and felt the back of his head, not surprised to find it sticky with blood. His side exploded with pain; while he’d been checking himself, Red XIII had attacked, clawing at his stomach. He screamed. Healing himself had drained him, and now he was too weak to fight back. Struggling, he managed to bat the feline away before the pain got to him, and he fainted. At least I’ll leave a beautiful corpse, he thought before consciousness left him. Too bad they’ll tear me apart before they can enjoy it.
