Cloud Strife (
easypromises) wrote2024-01-24 02:06 pm
Blame Time Compression And Aerith: Seifer Nonsense
It had been a few days since Cloud had gotten the message about a strange figure seen in the ruins of Midgar, even Fenris could only go so fast across an entire continent and he'd been on the far side of things.
He'd have normally let Reeve and the others handle it, weird shit out of Midgar was a WRO Problem. However between the weird hiccup with time materia, a bout of very vivid deja vu and the mention of whomever (or whatever) it was wearing a long coat and having an odd sword... Cloud wasn't leaving any chances.
So it was that the rumble of Fenrir's engine made it's way to the Old Church, it was the safest spot to make camp for anyone who could manage to get to it and the cleared area around it often used for such by those brave or desperate enough to venture in to the ruins for scrap.
The sun was starting to set, crimson throwing shadows from behind the towering hub of what had been a metropolis.
"Hopefully nothing." Cloud muttered to himself, swinging off the bike and stretching before squinting out at the ruins. Maybe he'd spot something quickly and be done.
He'd have normally let Reeve and the others handle it, weird shit out of Midgar was a WRO Problem. However between the weird hiccup with time materia, a bout of very vivid deja vu and the mention of whomever (or whatever) it was wearing a long coat and having an odd sword... Cloud wasn't leaving any chances.
So it was that the rumble of Fenrir's engine made it's way to the Old Church, it was the safest spot to make camp for anyone who could manage to get to it and the cleared area around it often used for such by those brave or desperate enough to venture in to the ruins for scrap.
The sun was starting to set, crimson throwing shadows from behind the towering hub of what had been a metropolis.
"Hopefully nothing." Cloud muttered to himself, swinging off the bike and stretching before squinting out at the ruins. Maybe he'd spot something quickly and be done.

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Cloud's standing again, swinging his own blade from off his back and resting it carefully against the wood of a convenient pew. The wood creaks a little, settling under the weight of the blade. He stays standing, taking his time to eat his apple.
"There's potions and elixers in the bag. Help yourself."
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The first potion is immediately downed, and the rest... The rest waits.
"What are you going here anyway, Cloud."
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He tilts his head a little, considering the taller blond. "How'd you get here?"
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Which he had just taken as 'of course, I helped destroy the world, it makes sense I should be punished by being alone'. This, though, was not what he'd expected.
As for how? Well, he didn't have an answer for that.
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"Where were you before?"
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Oh right.
"Not here."
Because Seifer can be a bit of an ass.
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"I can get you a place to stay. Depends on what you want to put up with until you figure things out."
The guy doesn't seem like some sort of drunk, and there's a non-zero chance he was in some sort of experiment tank that finally gave out and let him free. Cloud would let Reeve or someone from the Turks handle digging in to things any further.
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"Except I've got to walk a few days to get there, huh?"
Or ride that fucking thing out there the guy CLAIMED was a motorcycle and was actually too large to fucking exist.
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He shrugged. "Or you can walk, yeah."
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"That thing looks like it would fall over at a stiff breeze."
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There was a groan of metal and concrete giving way in the distance, and a ground shaking crash as part of the ruins fell a few sectors over after the years of weathering, abandonment, and destruction finally won. There was a slight ripple in the water from the vibration of it.
"... probably just that part of the plate in Sector Three finally falling."
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"Fucking hell, how can you just take that in stride?"
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Not that he often wanted to be polite, mind you. But his eyebrows are raised, as if to say 'tell me more'
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"I'm not a structural engineer, that's Reeve." he shrugged, "He's the one to talk to about it, I'm just a delivery guy."
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"Delivery guys don't move like you," Seifer counters, will all of the assurance of a trained mercenary.
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He just shrugged at that, "It's what I do most of the time these days."
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"Why would you do that?" he asks, frowning. "Deliveries as opposed to whatever you acutally do."