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ff7 - one of the fix-it resurrection fics
(I need titles to differentiate them. u_u;;;)
This isn't the fic where Denzel meets Zack in the church, because I only have character interaction for this fic and I need more plot first. Some kind of conflict. Not necessarily a big bad enemy, but I at least need a better idea of how everyone will react and everything. Tifa/Seph interaction will be a big source of conflict, yeah, but I need a better idea of the scenes I want to portray. Also I need OCs to populate the neighborhood, since Cloud and Tifa have been living in Edge a while and they've grown roots -- the neighbors will *notice* there are new people living with them. (but nngh I want. my ot5 of sexy ;.;)
No, this is the fic where two guys wake up at the Northern Crater. This one's going to have a lot more conflict, yeah XD if only because they're naked, weaponless and utterly alone on the Northern continent. Ohh, funfun.
this fic was supposed to have two of the triplets too, but frankly... eh, I don't really feel them, and it would be too much resurrection for one fic when I didn't even especially plan anything for the kadaj/loz/sephiroth meeting. You'd think a fic with the three of them somehow alive again would give a lot of importance to their interaction, but I'm only interested in Loz and Kadaj as they relate to Tifa and Cloud, not really as they relate to Sephiroth. So... Unless I get an awesome sudden!insight into how to make Kadaj/Seph interaction shiny enough to concentrate on, I'm probably gonna cut them out, I think.
... the introduction of the names is kinda awkward. Suggestions? ~__~
It wasn't out of a sense of debt, or as a well-deserved second chance. The Planet didn't care about anything like that. The Planet cared about being whole, about the slow ebb and flow of its life. The Planet cared about balance -- but not on any scale that a human mind could comprehend. The oscillations of the Planet's balance could last generations.
Some had called the Cetras the favored children of the Planet; but they were just better at going with the flow without losing their coherence. The Planet wasn't bothered by that, either. There was life, in a myriad of forms and a myriad of variations of these forms; life given in the shape of drops of the Lifestream, temporarily separated from the whole. Whether one, or ten, or thousands extinguished didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things. They came back to the Lifestream, ran and flowed across the Planet's surface and down into the Planet's core in perfect balance and unity, and then more coalesced again, often into something else entirely. For the Planet, it was all and the same.
Some drops took longer to accept the Planet's unity; but eventually, they all did. The Planet didn't mind waiting. It had all the time in the world.
There was still a taint of Otherness -- so little, but such a nagging itch -- not on the crust, where it could have been ignored, but inside the Lifestream's flow itself. The Planet hammered at it slowly, methodically; and eventually, the Otherness died and its remnants washed out.
Mostly.
There was one -- one or two or three, numbers were meaningless when everything was part of its whole -- a clump of -- not Otherness, but memory-of-Otherness, which was almost as bad -- that didn't want to dissolve, so in the end the Planet cast it out and away. It could have waited to dissolve inside the Lifestream just as well, but the itch was persistent and it was too small to really be all that useful to the Planet. Eventually the clump would lose its coherence, and then the Planet would take back what was its own and finally leave the taint behind.
---------------------------------
"Yes," he whispered tenderly, and smiled up at the sky; "I will."
And then he flopped on his side and violently coughed up the thick liquid clogging his lungs.
At least this part was familiar enough that he knew he wasn't really at a risk of drowning -- though it sure felt like it. He clenched a hand over his roiling stomach; his other hand felt the ground over his head until he found a hold on a protruding bit of rock. He dragged himself a little higher, trembling legs pushing along. He didn't remember feeling so bad in -- well, actually, he remembered feeling that bad pretty well, and the thought made him laugh in between two lung-rattling coughs.
Yep. Damp all over from a thick fluid that left his skin tingling, throat raw and lungs congested, every single muscle he possessed and a couple that had probably been invented for the occasion sore beyond what he'd thought possible. There really was nothing like the labs.
Well, the Northern Crater came close; but the torn-up rocks and pebbles underneath his body lacked the icy smoothness of the examination tables. He found he liked the rocks better.
He curled up, pulling his legs out of the Lifestream that pooled at the bottom of the crater, and shivered for a little while. He felt wretched. He felt alive. It was, for the moment, quite wonderful.
It was too bad he couldn't luxuriate in the feeling. He ignored the complaints of his stiff muscles as he rolled on hands and knees, and found a boulder to lean on. Climbing up to his feet was awkward; his balance was off, and his reflexes not what they should have been. He keenly felt the absence of his old weapon. It didn't matter. He would find a way to do without. He had his life, and that was enough.
Hell, even the total lack of clothes might be an advantage. In case of... prudish bandits. Yeah. Flash them, knock them out when they curled in the fetal position to avoid the sight of his dangly bits, steal their clothes ... A flawless plan, really. He laughed again, aware that his train of thought was more rambly than usual. The surroundings of the crater were merely cool, warmed by the Lifestream; the ice fields and high mountains covering the whole Northern continent would be another matter. SOLDIERs didn't get frostbite easily, but there was a limit to the awesomeness.
But under the faraway howling of the wind against the jagged rocks of the crater, far overhead, there was another sound. A much closer one. One that took priority.
He stumbled his way through the boulders, bare feet slipping on unstable stacks of sharp pebbles, hands grabbing at anything that could provide some support -- a few rocks threatened to topple over on him, and he ended on a knee or on his ass quite a few times.
He didn't have to go too far.
Behind a huge boulder, in a shallow cove, a man floated face-up, eyes open onto the pale sky. A cloud of long, ashen hair tangled all around him with the currents. The Lifestream lapped at his body, nudged him up the shore and then tried to pull him back down, only to nudge him up again. He didn't resist it, didn't even try to prevent the liquid from washing over his face. The area was shallow enough that his face surfaced regularly, and besides, despite how liquid-like it felt, how much your lungs protested, you couldn't drown in there; the dangers of Lifestream immersion were different.
He didn't know whether the man in the cove was aware of his surroundings, though it would pay to assume he was, never mind the blank eyes and limp body.
There were enough pebbles around the area for the task, though. His coordination was bad enough that his first kick didn't even get any in the liquid; but the second sprayed a dozen gravel bits by the man's chest.
The couple of pieces on a trajectory to his face were deflected with an unthinking backhand; but he missed one, which thwacked satisfactorily right in the middle of his forehead. There was no immediate retaliation, so the standing man leaned against the boulder, crossing his arms over his chest with studied nonchalance.
"Hey." Zack's voice came out surprisingly scratchy; he coughed, tried again. "Are you going to marinate in here until your skin wrinkles?"
The green eyes aimed at him were still blank, dulled. He figured it was better than manic intensity.
"Don't make me come and drag you out." There was a flicker of... something in the floating man's eyes. Yess. "I'd fall on my ass and then we'd both be wet and grumpy, and ain't that a treat."
The flicker died; the pale-haired man went back to staring unseeingly at the sky.
"...Is their chatter really all that fascinating?" The memory of the Lifestream was fraying at the edges already; but Zack still remembered the murmur of a million voices, like a breeze in the leaves of an ancient tree. It was so easy to relax, to let go -- but the floating man didn't look relaxed, just empty. "Come on, they're not going to say anything interesting anymore. You'll be social another day."
The green eyes closed slowly. Well, good; he was enough of a bother to be purposefully ignored.
"I'm not going to go away, you know, Seph. I'll keep talking over whatever conversation you're following. Hell, if we wait a few minutes I might even be able to get back down here to drag you out. If I drop you on the ground by accident, you'll deserve it, though."
"I can't hear anything."
Sephiroth's voice was gravelly, too, and devoid of any specific inflexion; nevertheless, the standing man grinned at finally getting a response. He sobered up quickly, though, and crouched cautiously at the edge of the lake. "If you were deaf, you couldn't hear me. The Chattystream snubbing you?"
Faint irritation sparkled and died on Sephiroth's face.
"...It's quiet..."
Zack sighed, and cautiously stretched a leg down the little slope to feel the submerged ground. "I could sing," he offered as he -- slowly, still sore and wobbly -- found a solid foothold, moved his weight down. Sephiroth didn't deign answer. It was worrisome, but Zack would take the lack of reaction over a violent backlash, at least until they were both dry and as warm as possible.
The Lifestream didn't even reach his knees where Sephiroth floated. Zack reached down, concentrating on his balance. It was getting better, though not fast enough to his tastes; but he didn't really feel like waiting to be back in top shape before doing anything.
Sephiroth didn't help him when Zack sat him up in the water and hauled him up, but he didn't fight him either. "Why are you so tall again?" Zack grumbled under his breath as he dragged his general toward the shore.
The trip went fine until he tried to step up the slope; and then his awkward hold on Sephiroth's weight unbalanced him and they both fell forward. Skinning his palm in the process, Zack somehow managed to guide Sephiroth's fall so that he ended up sitting on a flat rock instead of faceplanting.
The second Sephiroth's skin touched dry land, he exploded into motion. Zack was off-balance enough that an elbow aimed at his temple only glanced against his skull. He stumbled nevertheless, crashing down on the edge of the pool. Pain exploded in his hip and elbow, and he forced himself on his back, so he could kick his attacker.
Sephiroth was stumbling back to the middle of the pool, fighting the sloshing green liquid with each step.
"Sephiroth!" Zack yelled, forcing sore muscles to cooperate, to run after him. Sephiroth turned around just as Zack tackled him; they both went under, and rolled as they fought -- but Zack fought to immobilize Sephiroth, and Sephiroth fought like a trapped dragon. A hit to the stomach made him double over; he threw himself aside, wheezing, narrowly avoiding a kick scything down at his head -- couldn't dodge the follow-up. He was thrown like a rag doll, with his arms still folded in a defensive position, landed flat on his back and then sank in a crevice.
Once again, Sephiroth didn't bother finishing him off; he just turned away to hurry to the deepest point of the Lifestream pool once again.
As he flailed to breach the surface, Zack's hand closed on a loose rock.
He didn't bother asking for forgiveness; he just staggered forward and swung his arm hard, with as much momentum as he could gather. The blow connected with the back of Sephiroth's head; Zack staggered as he watched him fall like a tree. He waited a couple of seconds, to make sure Sephiroth wasn't moving anymore, in case it was a trap. When there was no movement, Zack fell to a knee at his side and felt the back of his head cautiously for a soft spot.
"Bunkers only wish they were as hard as your head," he muttered, relieved, and slung Sephiroth's arm across his shoulder to haul him back to shore. Crazy bastard. Babysitting him was going to be so amusing. Not.
This isn't the fic where Denzel meets Zack in the church, because I only have character interaction for this fic and I need more plot first. Some kind of conflict. Not necessarily a big bad enemy, but I at least need a better idea of how everyone will react and everything. Tifa/Seph interaction will be a big source of conflict, yeah, but I need a better idea of the scenes I want to portray. Also I need OCs to populate the neighborhood, since Cloud and Tifa have been living in Edge a while and they've grown roots -- the neighbors will *notice* there are new people living with them. (but nngh I want. my ot5 of sexy ;.;)
No, this is the fic where two guys wake up at the Northern Crater. This one's going to have a lot more conflict, yeah XD if only because they're naked, weaponless and utterly alone on the Northern continent. Ohh, funfun.
this fic was supposed to have two of the triplets too, but frankly... eh, I don't really feel them, and it would be too much resurrection for one fic when I didn't even especially plan anything for the kadaj/loz/sephiroth meeting. You'd think a fic with the three of them somehow alive again would give a lot of importance to their interaction, but I'm only interested in Loz and Kadaj as they relate to Tifa and Cloud, not really as they relate to Sephiroth. So... Unless I get an awesome sudden!insight into how to make Kadaj/Seph interaction shiny enough to concentrate on, I'm probably gonna cut them out, I think.
... the introduction of the names is kinda awkward. Suggestions? ~__~
It wasn't out of a sense of debt, or as a well-deserved second chance. The Planet didn't care about anything like that. The Planet cared about being whole, about the slow ebb and flow of its life. The Planet cared about balance -- but not on any scale that a human mind could comprehend. The oscillations of the Planet's balance could last generations.
Some had called the Cetras the favored children of the Planet; but they were just better at going with the flow without losing their coherence. The Planet wasn't bothered by that, either. There was life, in a myriad of forms and a myriad of variations of these forms; life given in the shape of drops of the Lifestream, temporarily separated from the whole. Whether one, or ten, or thousands extinguished didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things. They came back to the Lifestream, ran and flowed across the Planet's surface and down into the Planet's core in perfect balance and unity, and then more coalesced again, often into something else entirely. For the Planet, it was all and the same.
Some drops took longer to accept the Planet's unity; but eventually, they all did. The Planet didn't mind waiting. It had all the time in the world.
There was still a taint of Otherness -- so little, but such a nagging itch -- not on the crust, where it could have been ignored, but inside the Lifestream's flow itself. The Planet hammered at it slowly, methodically; and eventually, the Otherness died and its remnants washed out.
Mostly.
There was one -- one or two or three, numbers were meaningless when everything was part of its whole -- a clump of -- not Otherness, but memory-of-Otherness, which was almost as bad -- that didn't want to dissolve, so in the end the Planet cast it out and away. It could have waited to dissolve inside the Lifestream just as well, but the itch was persistent and it was too small to really be all that useful to the Planet. Eventually the clump would lose its coherence, and then the Planet would take back what was its own and finally leave the taint behind.
---------------------------------
"Yes," he whispered tenderly, and smiled up at the sky; "I will."
And then he flopped on his side and violently coughed up the thick liquid clogging his lungs.
At least this part was familiar enough that he knew he wasn't really at a risk of drowning -- though it sure felt like it. He clenched a hand over his roiling stomach; his other hand felt the ground over his head until he found a hold on a protruding bit of rock. He dragged himself a little higher, trembling legs pushing along. He didn't remember feeling so bad in -- well, actually, he remembered feeling that bad pretty well, and the thought made him laugh in between two lung-rattling coughs.
Yep. Damp all over from a thick fluid that left his skin tingling, throat raw and lungs congested, every single muscle he possessed and a couple that had probably been invented for the occasion sore beyond what he'd thought possible. There really was nothing like the labs.
Well, the Northern Crater came close; but the torn-up rocks and pebbles underneath his body lacked the icy smoothness of the examination tables. He found he liked the rocks better.
He curled up, pulling his legs out of the Lifestream that pooled at the bottom of the crater, and shivered for a little while. He felt wretched. He felt alive. It was, for the moment, quite wonderful.
It was too bad he couldn't luxuriate in the feeling. He ignored the complaints of his stiff muscles as he rolled on hands and knees, and found a boulder to lean on. Climbing up to his feet was awkward; his balance was off, and his reflexes not what they should have been. He keenly felt the absence of his old weapon. It didn't matter. He would find a way to do without. He had his life, and that was enough.
Hell, even the total lack of clothes might be an advantage. In case of... prudish bandits. Yeah. Flash them, knock them out when they curled in the fetal position to avoid the sight of his dangly bits, steal their clothes ... A flawless plan, really. He laughed again, aware that his train of thought was more rambly than usual. The surroundings of the crater were merely cool, warmed by the Lifestream; the ice fields and high mountains covering the whole Northern continent would be another matter. SOLDIERs didn't get frostbite easily, but there was a limit to the awesomeness.
But under the faraway howling of the wind against the jagged rocks of the crater, far overhead, there was another sound. A much closer one. One that took priority.
He stumbled his way through the boulders, bare feet slipping on unstable stacks of sharp pebbles, hands grabbing at anything that could provide some support -- a few rocks threatened to topple over on him, and he ended on a knee or on his ass quite a few times.
He didn't have to go too far.
Behind a huge boulder, in a shallow cove, a man floated face-up, eyes open onto the pale sky. A cloud of long, ashen hair tangled all around him with the currents. The Lifestream lapped at his body, nudged him up the shore and then tried to pull him back down, only to nudge him up again. He didn't resist it, didn't even try to prevent the liquid from washing over his face. The area was shallow enough that his face surfaced regularly, and besides, despite how liquid-like it felt, how much your lungs protested, you couldn't drown in there; the dangers of Lifestream immersion were different.
He didn't know whether the man in the cove was aware of his surroundings, though it would pay to assume he was, never mind the blank eyes and limp body.
There were enough pebbles around the area for the task, though. His coordination was bad enough that his first kick didn't even get any in the liquid; but the second sprayed a dozen gravel bits by the man's chest.
The couple of pieces on a trajectory to his face were deflected with an unthinking backhand; but he missed one, which thwacked satisfactorily right in the middle of his forehead. There was no immediate retaliation, so the standing man leaned against the boulder, crossing his arms over his chest with studied nonchalance.
"Hey." Zack's voice came out surprisingly scratchy; he coughed, tried again. "Are you going to marinate in here until your skin wrinkles?"
The green eyes aimed at him were still blank, dulled. He figured it was better than manic intensity.
"Don't make me come and drag you out." There was a flicker of... something in the floating man's eyes. Yess. "I'd fall on my ass and then we'd both be wet and grumpy, and ain't that a treat."
The flicker died; the pale-haired man went back to staring unseeingly at the sky.
"...Is their chatter really all that fascinating?" The memory of the Lifestream was fraying at the edges already; but Zack still remembered the murmur of a million voices, like a breeze in the leaves of an ancient tree. It was so easy to relax, to let go -- but the floating man didn't look relaxed, just empty. "Come on, they're not going to say anything interesting anymore. You'll be social another day."
The green eyes closed slowly. Well, good; he was enough of a bother to be purposefully ignored.
"I'm not going to go away, you know, Seph. I'll keep talking over whatever conversation you're following. Hell, if we wait a few minutes I might even be able to get back down here to drag you out. If I drop you on the ground by accident, you'll deserve it, though."
"I can't hear anything."
Sephiroth's voice was gravelly, too, and devoid of any specific inflexion; nevertheless, the standing man grinned at finally getting a response. He sobered up quickly, though, and crouched cautiously at the edge of the lake. "If you were deaf, you couldn't hear me. The Chattystream snubbing you?"
Faint irritation sparkled and died on Sephiroth's face.
"...It's quiet..."
Zack sighed, and cautiously stretched a leg down the little slope to feel the submerged ground. "I could sing," he offered as he -- slowly, still sore and wobbly -- found a solid foothold, moved his weight down. Sephiroth didn't deign answer. It was worrisome, but Zack would take the lack of reaction over a violent backlash, at least until they were both dry and as warm as possible.
The Lifestream didn't even reach his knees where Sephiroth floated. Zack reached down, concentrating on his balance. It was getting better, though not fast enough to his tastes; but he didn't really feel like waiting to be back in top shape before doing anything.
Sephiroth didn't help him when Zack sat him up in the water and hauled him up, but he didn't fight him either. "Why are you so tall again?" Zack grumbled under his breath as he dragged his general toward the shore.
The trip went fine until he tried to step up the slope; and then his awkward hold on Sephiroth's weight unbalanced him and they both fell forward. Skinning his palm in the process, Zack somehow managed to guide Sephiroth's fall so that he ended up sitting on a flat rock instead of faceplanting.
The second Sephiroth's skin touched dry land, he exploded into motion. Zack was off-balance enough that an elbow aimed at his temple only glanced against his skull. He stumbled nevertheless, crashing down on the edge of the pool. Pain exploded in his hip and elbow, and he forced himself on his back, so he could kick his attacker.
Sephiroth was stumbling back to the middle of the pool, fighting the sloshing green liquid with each step.
"Sephiroth!" Zack yelled, forcing sore muscles to cooperate, to run after him. Sephiroth turned around just as Zack tackled him; they both went under, and rolled as they fought -- but Zack fought to immobilize Sephiroth, and Sephiroth fought like a trapped dragon. A hit to the stomach made him double over; he threw himself aside, wheezing, narrowly avoiding a kick scything down at his head -- couldn't dodge the follow-up. He was thrown like a rag doll, with his arms still folded in a defensive position, landed flat on his back and then sank in a crevice.
Once again, Sephiroth didn't bother finishing him off; he just turned away to hurry to the deepest point of the Lifestream pool once again.
As he flailed to breach the surface, Zack's hand closed on a loose rock.
He didn't bother asking for forgiveness; he just staggered forward and swung his arm hard, with as much momentum as he could gather. The blow connected with the back of Sephiroth's head; Zack staggered as he watched him fall like a tree. He waited a couple of seconds, to make sure Sephiroth wasn't moving anymore, in case it was a trap. When there was no movement, Zack fell to a knee at his side and felt the back of his head cautiously for a soft spot.
"Bunkers only wish they were as hard as your head," he muttered, relieved, and slung Sephiroth's arm across his shoulder to haul him back to shore. Crazy bastard. Babysitting him was going to be so amusing. Not.
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And I don't think the name introduction is at all awkward as Zack (at least) knows who he is and who Seph is, and if you know ff7 you know they know each other so they're not gogin to be introducing themselves to each other.
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I will admit that Sephiroth's actions at first really puzzled me, but as this progressed it made more sense to me. While I'm still not entirely sure what his reason are I can now take a stab at it. The desire of oblivion and to just not think about it all. Now as to what the source of these thoughts are I'm sure that will become more apparent as the story progresses, because I can see numerous angles to come at that from.
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XD;;
Seph's definitely having personal reasons for the way he reacts and acts, but he's not the kind of guy who shows what he's thinking or feeling too much. XD;;;
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Now what do I do... Crazyzombiesephy doesn't make for interesting interaction. u.u;;;
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I dunno, I think he'd make for awesome interaction. Key point though is to get at the nuances of fun ::grins:: after all, sides. Wouldn't Cloud try to put him down on sight as precaution? Though Zack would make him flail to a 'wait!' I bet ::snickers::
There aren't enough fics with Seph's mistakes completely intact like this one is shaping up to be, that alone will make it interesting if you carry through, honest.
Besides, he's not incoherent ::grins:: so Zack will like to get answers, or at least try really hard, won't he?
Also, does Zack remember the things he saw after he died too?
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Seph's mistakes completely intact
hmm? What do you mean exactly? Not sure i'm interpreting it right. ^^;
Zack sort of remembers, but it's like a dream and it's already starting to lose its solidity. ;.; (except for aeris but then he doesn't want to forget) By the time he gets to edge he'll have only "oh yeah, i think i might have known that" reactions anymore. Even then, he wasn't watching all the time either.
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Yes. Though I suppose I should ask if he really did believe Jenova, and is fully aware of everything he did to those of this planet. If he is, and he doesn't ::thinks:: if he isn't sorry for it, then his mistakes aren't completely intact, does that make sense? I know that I, at least, am prone to changing/breaking that chain somewhere along the line in my stories, but it doesn't look like you did that here.
Very true, but the final battles were most recent, if this is post AC in general time frame for that one, he was proven to have been there, and if it isn't, and is instead just after game, then it still has a sense of ::thinks:: He would likely want to know why, even if he would later forget, simply by virtue of the fact that he likely never knew in the first place why Seph did as he did before the game time frame. What with Hojo likely never informing him in any capacity, nor being willing to, why his former superior officer was calling the thing int he tank mommy and tried to impale him. Those parts weren't while he was dead, and they're likely not going to vanish as easily as the rest, though would likely give him footing to be aware that bad things happened, if not what? ::realizes she's rambling, stops::
You are, of course, perfectly allowed to disregard all suggestions or babble should it go against your vision in some way.
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The couple of pieces on a trajectory to his face were deflected with an unthinking backhand; but he missed one, which thwacked satisfactorily right in the middle of his forehead. There was no immediate retaliation, so the standing man leaned against the boulder, crossing his arms over his chest with studied nonchalance.
Change the 'his' and 'he' to 'the floating man' as it is it sounds like the gravel is hitting Zack.
Otherwise, ot5? Oh yes, want ot5 sexy, waaaaaant ot5 sexy.
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hope Cloud gets his ass kicked for being a prissy, moping bitch,
Afterall for her, he's really a marshmallow. A lost little chocobo in need of a mummy.
um? o.O
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I reckon Zack would set Cloud straight, he seems the type to tell people to look on the bright side and be thankful for what they've got. Compared to what Zack got, Cloud's got nothing to complain about.
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(Anonymous) 2007-06-16 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
(Anonymous) 2007-06-16 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
http://www.ggkthx.org/?page_id=13 there are links at the bottom. So complicateeeed. x_x;;;
Personally I grabbed
http://www.inmatrix.com/zplayer/ this player
and cccp as the codec package:
http://cccp-project.net/
I hope it works. x___x;;;
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(Anonymous) 2007-06-18 12:42 am (UTC)(link)well my icon is FFVII related at least?
http://sadninjainsand.livejournal.com/1178.html
Perhaps you've already seen it. But I thought, if not, you must. :DD WARNING it is extremely image heavy, although that is the, um, point.