[Cloud barks out a laugh again, covering his face with a hand. Sephiroth's shopping sags dangerously off of his other arm as he curls into himself once more. There it is, again.
The boy that's here is a victim too.
It's so fucking unfair that he can't get away from that. He'd known it, when he'd been strangling the man who killed his mom, because the eyes had been different. Sephiroth had never looked at Cloud like that, not even when he was still sane; with regret. Apology.
Guilt.
If the Sephiroth standing right here really isn't capable of the atrocities he committed (will commit) back home, then the same is true of the Sephiroth Cloud once admired. The Sephiroth standing just over there in front of the little round door of his little woodsy burrow home, offering to die, is the most unassuming, unthreatening little thing Cloud's ever seen, and the only things that change him into a monster are time and Jenova.
Just like him.
Just like Cloud.
Pain lances hot and sharp through Cloud's head and he hisses, actually dropping Sephiroth's bags this time as he clutches at his head. This is your first time back home in a while, isn't it? floats through his mind, soft and unassuming; detached, maybe, but a kind of awkward kindness in there that shows in the fact that he'd even thought to ask. That he'd even bothered to read about the little trooper's file before the mission, bothered to retain the info that the scrawniest little runt of a private had come from this nowhere town and might want to see his mother again.
Fucking Jenova.
It means that because Jenova put her claws into Sephiroth and squeezed at the moment he was most vulnerable, it means that because nobody had been around Sephiroth to help him or talk him down (like Cloud had, like all of Cloud's friends had done for him), that he'd been put down like a rabid dog not just once, but three times. That Cloud had killed his hero three times because Sephiroth had been, in comparison, just so goddamned unlucky.
This is what Vincent had been trying to tell him, however gently, however abstractly. This is what Cloud already knew deep inside and hadn't wanted to even begin to consider the second he saw the scrawny teenager, awkward and muted, pacing around as Cloud flew overhead and looking hopefully upward trying to spot a pretty bird. Just a sad kid with no friends.
no subject
The boy that's here is a victim too.
It's so fucking unfair that he can't get away from that. He'd known it, when he'd been strangling the man who killed his mom, because the eyes had been different. Sephiroth had never looked at Cloud like that, not even when he was still sane; with regret. Apology.Guilt.
If the Sephiroth standing right here really isn't capable of the atrocities he committed (will commit) back home, then the same is true of the Sephiroth Cloud once admired. The Sephiroth standing just over there in front of the little round door of his little woodsy burrow home, offering to die, is the most unassuming, unthreatening little thing Cloud's ever seen, and the only things that change him into a monster are time and Jenova.
Just like him.
Just like Cloud.
Pain lances hot and sharp through Cloud's head and he hisses, actually dropping Sephiroth's bags this time as he clutches at his head. This is your first time back home in a while, isn't it? floats through his mind, soft and unassuming; detached, maybe, but a kind of awkward kindness in there that shows in the fact that he'd even thought to ask. That he'd even bothered to read about the little trooper's file before the mission, bothered to retain the info that the scrawniest little runt of a private had come from this nowhere town and might want to see his mother again.
Fucking Jenova.
It means that because Jenova put her claws into Sephiroth and squeezed at the moment he was most vulnerable, it means that because nobody had been around Sephiroth to help him or talk him down (like Cloud had, like all of Cloud's friends had done for him), that he'd been put down like a rabid dog not just once, but three times. That Cloud had killed his hero three times because Sephiroth had been, in comparison, just so goddamned unlucky.
This is what Vincent had been trying to tell him, however gently, however abstractly. This is what Cloud already knew deep inside and hadn't wanted to even begin to consider the second he saw the scrawny teenager, awkward and muted, pacing around as Cloud flew overhead and looking hopefully upward trying to spot a pretty bird. Just a sad kid with no friends.
Just like him.]