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cloakandclaw) wrote2008-01-21 11:42 pm
cloakandclaw) wrote2008-01-21 11:42 pm
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Mornings are difficult, because he often doesn't know where he is when he wakes up. It isn't that he loses track of time or has memory lapses. Instead, his reasoning follows the fact that he rarely stays in the same place for more than a day or two and with that in mind -- with so much travel -- waking up can be disorienting. He was at an inn, or in a tree, or sleeping outside a cave, or sleeping inside a cave. Some of those places look remarkably different by the light of day and as a result, he's gotten somewhat used to taking a moment to blink when he awakens, to acclimate.
This morning is no different. When conscious thoughts start to seep in he's face-down in a bed, his hair forming a curtain over his face as it often does, one arm out from beneath the security of the blanket, hand resting on the floor. As usual, his cloak has moved to cover him during the night like a jealous lover's protective caress. But as his eyes force themselves open and he blinks once, twice, a third time, something in his line of vision startles him. It's not the old worn and faded scars gracing the back of his hand and it's not the color and texture of the unfamiliar wood floor.
It's a... stuffed animal. A rabbit, from the looks of it, with one ear flopped over, one eye missing, clearly well-loved, sitting up just next to his hand. The sight makes him blink again with great uncertainty: no matter where he was -- no matter where he is -- this does not belong to him and it never has. Reaching for it, he brings it closer for examination.
This doesn't look like a decoy; it doesn't feel like a trap. Startled, he pushes himself up, twisting to sit, the blanket and cloak forming some odd inadvertent modesty shield over his old long-sleeved gray t-shirt and underclothes when motion and sound in the corner catch his attention. His gun is always on the nearest bedside table and if there's no table it's always on the floor next to him, but it isn't there today and...
Wait: that sound is a giggle. Stuffed rabbit in hand, he rubs his eyes.
"Oh. Marlene."
That's right: they're in Midgar, at the home Tifa shares with Marlene and Barret and Cloud.
"My rabbit said she wants to be your friend." Uncrossing her legs, the little girl stands and moves over to the side of his bed. "Vincent? What happened to your hands? Did you burn them? Tifa always tells me not to play near fire. Is that why you wear gloves?"
"I..." It takes him a moment to adjust: what is he supposed to tell her? That he died, and while he was dead, a mad scientist -- because that's the only way to describe Hojo -- experimented on his body? She may seem fearless -- she may have been through more trauma than any child deserves -- but she's only five and he doesn't want to be the cause of any nightmares.
Whenever possible he tries not to lie; that only leads to trouble later on. But there are situations where it's appropriate, and this... well, this calls for delicacy. "No, they're not burn scars. There was... an accident." It's not even that much of a lie, really: more a rephrasing of the truth. "It was a long time ago, and I... don't think about it a lot any more." As much as he might like to, there's no point now in hiding his hands; Marlene's seen what she's seen but he does reach out to hand her the toy rabbit. "Here. Step outside for a minute, Marlene, so I can dress. Close the door behind you." Even though there's nothing immodest about what he wears to sleep in, he's still intensely private.
"The rabbit wants to stay with you," she insists, "but I'll wait in the hall. Open the door when you're ready, okay?"
"Okay." He nods -- quite seriously, in fact -- and as the door closes, he looks down at the stuffed animal in his hand.
True to her word, Marlene waits just outside the door, playing with a doll. She speaks quietly to it and when he opens the door, she presses her hand to her lips and giggles a little.
She's even more lovely than he thought, after hearing so much about her from Barret during their travels. As he ushers her in -- now the bed is tidily made -- his cloak drapes over the back of the chair and his armor, holster, and weapon rest on top of the desk. Clad all in black save for the red head scarf, he sits cross-legged on the bed and gestures for Marlene to join him. "Now," he offers, "ask me any question you like." The stuffed bunny is in his leather-clad hands; Marlene jumps up and sits and nods her approval.
"What kind of accident?"
Of course; that would be the question. He'll be as honest as he can. "I was... working in a science lab, and an experiment backfired." That's one way to put it. "And I got hurt, but... you can see, I recovered."
"Why do you wear gloves all the time?"
Children, he knows, are remarkably perceptive and he thinks there's no swaying her from this line of questioning even if he wants to. He also knows that if he reverts back to his typical behavior -- simply refusing to answer -- she's as likely as not to burst into tears at his stubbornness. For a child -- for her sake -- he'll talk. "Because I don't like to be reminded of what happened."
"How come your eyes are red?"
That one's easier to answer, at least to a child. "Because of the accident."
She seems to consider that for a moment, then nods as if it all makes perfect sense to her. "Do you like Tifa?"
"Yes. I like Tifa very much. We're friends." That wasn't so very hard either. On the back of the chair, the ragged hem of the cloak starts to flutter a bit anxiously and he knows if they sit here much longer, it will float over and settle onto his shoulders. He doesn't mind: it will probably seem like a magic trick to Marlene.
"Can you stay here with us?"
Ah.
Before he can answer, the cloak rises off the chair back and glides over; he reaches out and grabs it, sets it down beside them on the bed. "I can't do that." For a moment he's afraid Marlene's eyes are going to fill with tears, but she's Barret's daughter through and through: tears aren't allowed, he suspects. "But I can stay for today. Shall we go and see the others?"
Marlene nods, perhaps a little mournfully, and watches as he quickly straps on his body armor, sets Cerberus into the holster, and lets the cloak settle in its desired location on his shoulders. He travels with everything he needs but today he's got the added attraction of Marlene's toy in the crook of his left arm. As they leave the room, following the sounds of familiar voices, Marlene takes him by the right hand to lead the way.
And he doesn't even put up a fight.
This morning is no different. When conscious thoughts start to seep in he's face-down in a bed, his hair forming a curtain over his face as it often does, one arm out from beneath the security of the blanket, hand resting on the floor. As usual, his cloak has moved to cover him during the night like a jealous lover's protective caress. But as his eyes force themselves open and he blinks once, twice, a third time, something in his line of vision startles him. It's not the old worn and faded scars gracing the back of his hand and it's not the color and texture of the unfamiliar wood floor.
It's a... stuffed animal. A rabbit, from the looks of it, with one ear flopped over, one eye missing, clearly well-loved, sitting up just next to his hand. The sight makes him blink again with great uncertainty: no matter where he was -- no matter where he is -- this does not belong to him and it never has. Reaching for it, he brings it closer for examination.
This doesn't look like a decoy; it doesn't feel like a trap. Startled, he pushes himself up, twisting to sit, the blanket and cloak forming some odd inadvertent modesty shield over his old long-sleeved gray t-shirt and underclothes when motion and sound in the corner catch his attention. His gun is always on the nearest bedside table and if there's no table it's always on the floor next to him, but it isn't there today and...
Wait: that sound is a giggle. Stuffed rabbit in hand, he rubs his eyes.
"Oh. Marlene."
That's right: they're in Midgar, at the home Tifa shares with Marlene and Barret and Cloud.
"My rabbit said she wants to be your friend." Uncrossing her legs, the little girl stands and moves over to the side of his bed. "Vincent? What happened to your hands? Did you burn them? Tifa always tells me not to play near fire. Is that why you wear gloves?"
"I..." It takes him a moment to adjust: what is he supposed to tell her? That he died, and while he was dead, a mad scientist -- because that's the only way to describe Hojo -- experimented on his body? She may seem fearless -- she may have been through more trauma than any child deserves -- but she's only five and he doesn't want to be the cause of any nightmares.
Whenever possible he tries not to lie; that only leads to trouble later on. But there are situations where it's appropriate, and this... well, this calls for delicacy. "No, they're not burn scars. There was... an accident." It's not even that much of a lie, really: more a rephrasing of the truth. "It was a long time ago, and I... don't think about it a lot any more." As much as he might like to, there's no point now in hiding his hands; Marlene's seen what she's seen but he does reach out to hand her the toy rabbit. "Here. Step outside for a minute, Marlene, so I can dress. Close the door behind you." Even though there's nothing immodest about what he wears to sleep in, he's still intensely private.
"The rabbit wants to stay with you," she insists, "but I'll wait in the hall. Open the door when you're ready, okay?"
"Okay." He nods -- quite seriously, in fact -- and as the door closes, he looks down at the stuffed animal in his hand.
True to her word, Marlene waits just outside the door, playing with a doll. She speaks quietly to it and when he opens the door, she presses her hand to her lips and giggles a little.
She's even more lovely than he thought, after hearing so much about her from Barret during their travels. As he ushers her in -- now the bed is tidily made -- his cloak drapes over the back of the chair and his armor, holster, and weapon rest on top of the desk. Clad all in black save for the red head scarf, he sits cross-legged on the bed and gestures for Marlene to join him. "Now," he offers, "ask me any question you like." The stuffed bunny is in his leather-clad hands; Marlene jumps up and sits and nods her approval.
"What kind of accident?"
Of course; that would be the question. He'll be as honest as he can. "I was... working in a science lab, and an experiment backfired." That's one way to put it. "And I got hurt, but... you can see, I recovered."
"Why do you wear gloves all the time?"
Children, he knows, are remarkably perceptive and he thinks there's no swaying her from this line of questioning even if he wants to. He also knows that if he reverts back to his typical behavior -- simply refusing to answer -- she's as likely as not to burst into tears at his stubbornness. For a child -- for her sake -- he'll talk. "Because I don't like to be reminded of what happened."
"How come your eyes are red?"
That one's easier to answer, at least to a child. "Because of the accident."
She seems to consider that for a moment, then nods as if it all makes perfect sense to her. "Do you like Tifa?"
"Yes. I like Tifa very much. We're friends." That wasn't so very hard either. On the back of the chair, the ragged hem of the cloak starts to flutter a bit anxiously and he knows if they sit here much longer, it will float over and settle onto his shoulders. He doesn't mind: it will probably seem like a magic trick to Marlene.
"Can you stay here with us?"
Ah.
Before he can answer, the cloak rises off the chair back and glides over; he reaches out and grabs it, sets it down beside them on the bed. "I can't do that." For a moment he's afraid Marlene's eyes are going to fill with tears, but she's Barret's daughter through and through: tears aren't allowed, he suspects. "But I can stay for today. Shall we go and see the others?"
Marlene nods, perhaps a little mournfully, and watches as he quickly straps on his body armor, sets Cerberus into the holster, and lets the cloak settle in its desired location on his shoulders. He travels with everything he needs but today he's got the added attraction of Marlene's toy in the crook of his left arm. As they leave the room, following the sounds of familiar voices, Marlene takes him by the right hand to lead the way.
And he doesn't even put up a fight.