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ilcuoreardendoThis is the first part. I posted the second part first. You can find the second part here. I will also be organizing them in the Memories section.
Shape Without Form, Shade Without Color
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
The Hollow Men ~ T. S. Elliot
In the early days of his sleep, he had become accustomed to the comings and goings of the scientists. Accustomed to the strange sounds that emanated down the hall from his room, the whir of machines, the footsteps, and the conversing voices.
And then they had all faded.
And for a time his sleep remained uninterrupted by any presence other than the rats that shared the cellar. Days, Months, or more passed; he could not be certain when, from the place of his dreams, he felt the house stir around him with the nuances of human sounds, of human emotions.
You can smell her, can’t you?
Be silent. Be still. His words were not spoken but pushed firmly against the entity sharing his form.
I certainly can. It’s such a familiar stink. You must be familiar with it by now. That sharp edge of longing.
The voice subsided as shuffling came outside the door; the sound of a key manipulating the old tumblers made his ears twitch despite the fog that still lay over his conscious mind. Footsteps neared and the sudden loss of the coffin covering surprised him more than it should have, the cool air hitting him with such force that he opened his mouth and drank it in like water.
~*~
The rest of the group accepted his presence easily and with little fuss when they returned that afternoon, aside from a bit of frivolity from Yuffie as she immediately transformed Vincent’s name to a short derivative. He hung near the outskirts of the group for a time, content to take in the faces as he attempted to match each to the swarm of voices in his ears.
And then he caught her scent and heard the soft sound of her voice at his elbow as she spoke to the group.
This is the one. Chaos’ voice was strong and clear. Much more so than it had been in the days before Vincent’s sleep. How she longs. And the boy has no clue. Seems a shame to let such a young thing waste herself on want. Perhaps you could... The voice dropped to a whisper. It’s been so long…. Just a taste.
The tingling of the change moved under Vincent’s skin and he caught his breath at the sudden shift in his vision that put the dark haired fighter in sharp relief against the backdrop of the kitchen. And now he could see the blood fusing her cheeks as she moved toward Cloud, the pulse fluttering in her throat…. He could press his lips to it. Catch the flutter on his tongue. Bite down—ever so gently—until the skin split with precision and spilled—
Vincent shuddered and turned in the doorway moving out into the sitting room and toward the window furthest from the kitchen.
You are still a coward, Vincent Valentine.
“I will not debase myself to your desires,” he spoke aloud but his voice was so low it was barely a whisper.
Splitting hairs a bit finely, aren’t we? My desires are yours. Yours mine. We are one, Valentine. Deny it all you like.
“Let me be.”
Were it not for me, the others would rule you. Soon you won’t have to worry about them at all. Vile things they are, really. No grace. No eloquence. Certainly no taste for the finer things in the world… Think on it, Valentine. Three demons less.
“I would rather it four.”
I ask for little. And I can teach you. Show you how to use your enhanced form to its utmost advantage. Get you all that you wish. All you desire.
“I wish for nothing.”
Nothing? Vengeance is nothing? Was Lucrecia nothing? And what of her... The dark lilac—the little fighter?
Vincent closed his eyes and concentrated on the voice of Chaos, imagining the huge svelte form of the demon, imagined pushing it away. Locking it behind a mental wall of iron. And hiding the key to the cell inside a book in his memory of the ShinRa Mansion library. Chaos sighed, disgust evident in his long breath.
For now, Valentine. Be as you will. But remember, you can’t hide from me.
Vincent breathed out in a slow sigh and leaned against the windowsill.
“Vincent?” Her voice was tentative, but she stood closer to him than he felt necessary. “We have lunch ready, if you’d like to come and eat….”
Turning and opening his eyes he saw here there, a little brighter and with more detail than human vision would allow, but no longer was she so sharply defined against the colors of the room.
“Thank you. I will be there momentarily.”
“Great.” She gave him a bright smile and turned to leave the room, hair twitching over her hips like something alive, wafting the scent of lilacs toward him.
He passed a hand down his face, cupping the scent to his nose and mouth and, with one more deep and even breath, headed for the kitchen.
Shape Without Form, Shade Without Color
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
The Hollow Men ~ T. S. Elliot
In the early days of his sleep, he had become accustomed to the comings and goings of the scientists. Accustomed to the strange sounds that emanated down the hall from his room, the whir of machines, the footsteps, and the conversing voices.
And then they had all faded.
And for a time his sleep remained uninterrupted by any presence other than the rats that shared the cellar. Days, Months, or more passed; he could not be certain when, from the place of his dreams, he felt the house stir around him with the nuances of human sounds, of human emotions.
You can smell her, can’t you?
Be silent. Be still. His words were not spoken but pushed firmly against the entity sharing his form.
I certainly can. It’s such a familiar stink. You must be familiar with it by now. That sharp edge of longing.
The voice subsided as shuffling came outside the door; the sound of a key manipulating the old tumblers made his ears twitch despite the fog that still lay over his conscious mind. Footsteps neared and the sudden loss of the coffin covering surprised him more than it should have, the cool air hitting him with such force that he opened his mouth and drank it in like water.
~*~
The rest of the group accepted his presence easily and with little fuss when they returned that afternoon, aside from a bit of frivolity from Yuffie as she immediately transformed Vincent’s name to a short derivative. He hung near the outskirts of the group for a time, content to take in the faces as he attempted to match each to the swarm of voices in his ears.
And then he caught her scent and heard the soft sound of her voice at his elbow as she spoke to the group.
This is the one. Chaos’ voice was strong and clear. Much more so than it had been in the days before Vincent’s sleep. How she longs. And the boy has no clue. Seems a shame to let such a young thing waste herself on want. Perhaps you could... The voice dropped to a whisper. It’s been so long…. Just a taste.
The tingling of the change moved under Vincent’s skin and he caught his breath at the sudden shift in his vision that put the dark haired fighter in sharp relief against the backdrop of the kitchen. And now he could see the blood fusing her cheeks as she moved toward Cloud, the pulse fluttering in her throat…. He could press his lips to it. Catch the flutter on his tongue. Bite down—ever so gently—until the skin split with precision and spilled—
Vincent shuddered and turned in the doorway moving out into the sitting room and toward the window furthest from the kitchen.
You are still a coward, Vincent Valentine.
“I will not debase myself to your desires,” he spoke aloud but his voice was so low it was barely a whisper.
Splitting hairs a bit finely, aren’t we? My desires are yours. Yours mine. We are one, Valentine. Deny it all you like.
“Let me be.”
Were it not for me, the others would rule you. Soon you won’t have to worry about them at all. Vile things they are, really. No grace. No eloquence. Certainly no taste for the finer things in the world… Think on it, Valentine. Three demons less.
“I would rather it four.”
I ask for little. And I can teach you. Show you how to use your enhanced form to its utmost advantage. Get you all that you wish. All you desire.
“I wish for nothing.”
Nothing? Vengeance is nothing? Was Lucrecia nothing? And what of her... The dark lilac—the little fighter?
Vincent closed his eyes and concentrated on the voice of Chaos, imagining the huge svelte form of the demon, imagined pushing it away. Locking it behind a mental wall of iron. And hiding the key to the cell inside a book in his memory of the ShinRa Mansion library. Chaos sighed, disgust evident in his long breath.
For now, Valentine. Be as you will. But remember, you can’t hide from me.
Vincent breathed out in a slow sigh and leaned against the windowsill.
“Vincent?” Her voice was tentative, but she stood closer to him than he felt necessary. “We have lunch ready, if you’d like to come and eat….”
Turning and opening his eyes he saw here there, a little brighter and with more detail than human vision would allow, but no longer was she so sharply defined against the colors of the room.
“Thank you. I will be there momentarily.”
“Great.” She gave him a bright smile and turned to leave the room, hair twitching over her hips like something alive, wafting the scent of lilacs toward him.
He passed a hand down his face, cupping the scent to his nose and mouth and, with one more deep and even breath, headed for the kitchen.