a second later, he will be landing silently outside of the opened entrance. he closes and locks the door behind him on his way inside, but he doesn't take a step further. ]
[This is one of those standard three-storey deals you'd find in any metropolitan area, even in the slums of the Undercity. One main room with enough space for the IKEA-style bed frame (with incorporated - if empty - drawers) to one side, a door that leads to a small shower/bath, another to a toilet, and a third leading to an empty utility closet that might have once housed a washing machine.
The kitchen is tucked into an alcove just inside the door, little more than a sink, a rack where a very small two-burner stovetop might have been, once, and about as much area (not even a foot) in empty countertop. While there's hookups for a small fridge, there is none to be seen.
Cloud's lived with worse. The tap water doesn't even smell or taste bad. Does have that cookie-cutter look that his temporary lodgings in the slums had, though, and maybe that's why he picked it. Just familiar and utilitarian enough.
He's putting his sword against the wall only to jump slightly when he realizes that Vincent is not only here, but he's had the time to close and lock the door, all without a sound.]
[ it's nice to see that the kid has some furniture in his room now. the last time he stepped foot inside, it was mostly bare. he didn't even have a bed. the hospital was passing out furnishing, but vincent didn't stop to take a look at any of them. he isn't in the spirit to play house right now, settling for a decrepit warehouse further within the gradually crumbling city — one he has only visited once to store his coffin.
he still has no idea why they've given it to him when he hasn't laid eyes on it for almost three years now.
when cloud finally notices him, he folds his arms over his chest as he dips his head down, the collar of his cloak now effectively concealing the lower half of his face. he lets the silence drag out between them, his eyes averted off to the side — almost like a child expecting to be scolded for doing something wrong. ]
[Don't expect it to get too cozy in here. Cloud's lived rough for a while. Besides, the way he looks at it, the minute this place starts to look lived-in is the minute he's given up hope on getting back to the others, to the place where he belongs.
Vincent looks different. He realizes, after a moment observing, that he doesn't look different, he looks guilty. The merc's shoulders sag somewhat.
He's had days to think. About what he would say - about them, about what's been going on - and now that it's time to say something, it feels like his mouth has gone dry.]
[There's a bed and that happens to pull double duty as a couch.
Rolling a shoulder only marginally addresses the tension. Cloud rests a hand against the Buster Sword propped up against the wall, steadying himself with an inhale. In through the nose, out through his mouth.]
I thought about it. What's been going on. What you told me.
[The last time they stood in this apartment.]
Got something to say. I'm not sure where to start.
His one consolation is the Unnamed City is seriously neglected, it isn't full of people, so there's some privacy, even outside of that small, sparce apartment.]
...... You-
[Shaking his head, he presses on.]
You said it yourself. Before. My memory's unreliable.
[He thought about it for days, convinced himself he'd packaged it up, everything he wanted to say, all nice and neat. That it wouldn't be like this, when it came down to it.
Except here's the thing. Someone could say "In the end, it's still Cloud", but given everything that he's come to understand the last few days, he's come to question how much of him is actually "Cloud".]
I didn't recognize Zack. You, too.
It's like there's these- [His exhale is, again, frustrated.]
[that silence goes on a lot longer than he'd like.]
These lives inside me. That don't always line up.
[Things he remembers doing. Things he remembers doing even when they contrast with other things he remembers doing, things that belonged to someone else. Or to Zack.
Then there are the other things, those brief flashes, that are at once familiar and... unfamiliar, that evoke such a profound response in him that it's hard to dismiss them as anything other than real.]
[ he can't begin to imagine what it's like for him, so he won't.
maybe he should have lent cloud his ears more often back on gaia, but he was still coming to terms with his own life and then, well, deepground happened. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Is that an invitation? [ busted, but he don't care. ]
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His apartment door swings open though. That's enough invitation, right?]
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a second later, he will be landing silently outside of the opened entrance. he closes and locks the door behind him on his way inside, but he doesn't take a step further. ]
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The kitchen is tucked into an alcove just inside the door, little more than a sink, a rack where a very small two-burner stovetop might have been, once, and about as much area (not even a foot) in empty countertop. While there's hookups for a small fridge, there is none to be seen.
Cloud's lived with worse. The tap water doesn't even smell or taste bad. Does have that cookie-cutter look that his temporary lodgings in the slums had, though, and maybe that's why he picked it. Just familiar and utilitarian enough.
He's putting his sword against the wall only to jump slightly when he realizes that Vincent is not only here, but he's had the time to close and lock the door, all without a sound.]
...Don't know if I'll ever get used to that.
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he still has no idea why they've given it to him when he hasn't laid eyes on it for almost three years now.
when cloud finally notices him, he folds his arms over his chest as he dips his head down, the collar of his cloak now effectively concealing the lower half of his face. he lets the silence drag out between them, his eyes averted off to the side — almost like a child expecting to be scolded for doing something wrong. ]
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Vincent looks different. He realizes, after a moment observing, that he doesn't look different, he looks guilty. The merc's shoulders sag somewhat.
He's had days to think. About what he would say - about them, about what's been going on - and now that it's time to say something, it feels like his mouth has gone dry.]
...You wanna sit?
[God damn it, Cloud.]
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there is no chair in sight. ]
No. [ he's fine. ]
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Rolling a shoulder only marginally addresses the tension. Cloud rests a hand against the Buster Sword propped up against the wall, steadying himself with an inhale. In through the nose, out through his mouth.]
I thought about it. What's been going on. What you told me.
[The last time they stood in this apartment.]
Got something to say. I'm not sure where to start.
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his full attention is on cloud now, crimson hues trained onto him. ]
You don't have to be shy with me. Speak your mind.
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WOW.
Shut up Vincent don't call his ass out he just met you. smh he can't even use the "don't talk like you know me" argument.]
.......
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what did he just say ]
Do you need some time alone?
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yeah, he's following behind u quietly. he may or may not be smiling vaguely, but your turned back will never let u see it now. ]
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turn around, u chocobo head. ]
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Ever occur to you you're an asshole?
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Yes.
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Forget it.
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I can't.
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His one consolation is the Unnamed City is seriously neglected, it isn't full of people, so there's some privacy, even outside of that small, sparce apartment.]
...... You-
[Shaking his head, he presses on.]
You said it yourself. Before. My memory's unreliable.
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he gives an affirmative nod. ]
I did.
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Except here's the thing. Someone could say "In the end, it's still Cloud", but given everything that he's come to understand the last few days, he's come to question how much of him is actually "Cloud".]
I didn't recognize Zack. You, too.
It's like there's these- [His exhale is, again, frustrated.]
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he is nothing but patience, so go on and collect your thoughts. he'll wait. ]
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These lives inside me. That don't always line up.
[Things he remembers doing. Things he remembers doing even when they contrast with other things he remembers doing, things that belonged to someone else. Or to Zack.
Then there are the other things, those brief flashes, that are at once familiar and... unfamiliar, that evoke such a profound response in him that it's hard to dismiss them as anything other than real.]
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maybe he should have lent cloud his ears more often back on gaia, but he was still coming to terms with his own life and then, well, deepground happened. ]
Explain them to me.
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