Lost Number [Project V.]

One Bullet. One Life. The Madness within finally reflected. A Fallen saint abiding the Sin of a child's birth. Come, Lost to this Crimson Chaos.
[ An RP blog for Vincent Valentine. Will accept ask as well. All artworks do not belong to me unless specified otherwise. Affiliated with FFP. Open to RP with anyone. Tracked tag: crimsonchaos | sanguinesaint ] Online Users


#suitlessease #I promise I will be gentle #8)



  It was painful once, the admittance. It is still painful thence; hence, the period of unforeseen quietude. But again, no light can exist without darkness; and the darkness, a presence of light. It is like when people said if you believe in an existence of evil, then you must have believed in the presence of God. Such is as well how it is with love — the joy, the pain, and the admittance.

  Was the question meant to draw from him such a mournful look? Had I been asked, I would have begged to differ.

      Curious has always been this man;
      as guarded has always been him.  

      What choice do I have
       when some scar 
        seem to burn with greater fervor
            comes each passing day
        that in the end you are with left no choices
         but to give that patch of jagged flesh a little scratch?

  It is usually a losing battle.

  ”…I see.”, responded in as quiet the tone was the sound of my own voice, each utterance as deliberated as my weighting gaze. The current director of Turks’ averted glance speaks as much as what, so far, have been left unvoiced. Taunted as I am with further curiosity, dare/do I indulge?

      Is it someone I know?

  ”Is there…
   — a plan then?”


        ”Turks no longer need to be what it once was.”

A veil pulled, the silver crescent of his eyes was taken away, concealed by the slow fall of lids, the streak of pain echoing the admission to burden, to infallible isolation. It was perhaps a prayer for silence, read in the lines of his face, painting age where surely he had not reached. His shoulders were draped with strength still, even now he stood and seemed without bend, but within his mind he recalled many a time when he had seemed the statue shattered, laid to rest in the dust to which he’d return before long.

Was this the game they still played? To what extent would these queries take them? Vincent and his equally ambiguous companion—two men who spoke the same language—that of silence.

Yet answer he did—some catharsis in the voicing. Though his voice was low, it was audibly above that of a murmur. He would not play games with matters like these. Simultaneously, he gave a silent thanks to the setting, to the profound lightheartedness that was this game, this child’s scenario they played within. …he himself did not know how he would answer had he been given use or more than two words.

All he could say, though it defeated the purpose, was the soft, “Yes… and no.”

He did not think himself hard to read, but neither do the stars think they are hard to find, looking down on their reflections in the ocean of the world below. Of all men, Vincent Valentine perhaps had a chance of deciphering what he meant. Tseng, himself, was not sure just yet to what extent he would be willing to help him along the way.

  A veil was pulled. In any plays, it would have been called ‘an intermission’, a period in which actors are given a moment of respite and other mens, their chances to process what had just occurred on the stage, or to engage in needless socialising whilst sating their thrist with refreshments and luxuriously decorated Hors d’oeuvre.

    However so,
    this is not such a veil.

    This is made of his flesh…

    &   all the theatres inside his eyes were lost behind such a cage.
          We are who we are…

  While the manner by which my questions are to be answered suggests enough of a game, the questions themselves nor my intentionare not. To me, what have been expected from this quiet exchange are deemed far more important to be consigned simply to mere mediocrities.

  With men such as us, the nature of this contract is naught more than a guile to loosen tongues where silence often runs wild.

        at least…
        this is my design.

    ’Yes’, there is a plan.
      ’No’, I don’t think the plan will…
      — yield the result as you would expect.

      The existing possibility on
      how his concise answers
      are to be interpreted is
      as vast in number as the sea’s each tiny grain of sand.

  ”I see.”

        ”Whatever will be, will be.
         Simply take heed that you
         do not regret your choice afterwards.”

  I reach to pat his shoulder as I make my exit.


#reeve tuesti #Tuestentine #vincent valentine #;i aim to queue


Reeve really need’s an intervention. :I


#vincent valentine #denzel #;i aim to queue

One more art dump today. Silly fun, based on a joke myself and Lauren made - although I’m not sure how we came to this idea *scratches head*, but the thought of rude Vinnie is hilarious.
(Denzel must be stood on a box, just to try and lessen the looming factor from Vincent).


One more art dump today. Silly fun, based on a joke myself and Lauren made - although I’m not sure how we came to this idea *scratches head*, but the thought of rude Vinnie is hilarious.

(Denzel must be stood on a box, just to try and lessen the looming factor from Vincent).


#rpsephiroth #skype shenanigans
  • Vincent [Da.]: he is like
  • Vincent [Da.]: D 8
  • Vincent [Da.]: AND I WAS LIKE
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): omg.
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): Sephiroth's a secret masochist too. 8D
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): wait.
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): ._.
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): .....
  • Sephiroth (Aisha): ...we may have a slight problem.
  • Vincent [Da.]: oh oh...
  • Vincent [Da.]: (imagine that icq sound's 'oh oh')
  • Sephiroth [Aisha]: *quiet chuckle.*


#tsxngun #I kind of like the wit in this one #:3



"You spoke as if I would need a reason to my presence." Having chosen not to meet his question directly just yet, I chide him in soft modulation, the low tonality maintaining the pleasantry of a cold moonlit bath and hinting just barely the mischief in its concealed blade and perhaps what is to be expected of Vincent Valentine.

That my eyes should seek his form after their careful sweep across his office can be as much predicted as my ability to get past the security. Concerning such a protocol, however, even when he has not bothered to ask, it is still silently acknowledged in a mild quirk of brow as our gaze eventually meet. From my position concealed beneath the shadow, I stroll forward. The familiar red that courses with life flows after my form is a trail of blood the ground quickly drinking up.


  ”Another busy night for you…” From their meeting with the Turk’s eyes, twin ebullient pools drop briefly to the paper in his hands before their return. “…, I presume.”

「♟」— Stealing a quick moment to let optics drop down to the wooden surface, Tseng took note of the former’s active observation. It humored him to hear the words; the slight assumption that the rouge would bring up small talk rather nice, if he could say so, himself.

"Only if my subordinates were more careful in handling their jobs." He answered, half-heartedly, as he meant not what said, entirely. As long as they fulfilled their duties, he cared not how they went about it, willing to clean up the mess after them. "Although, nothing is impossible." He smirked, briefly, before flickering his gaze back onto his visitor.

"If I may, how is the living world treating you?" He wondered, not having been able to ask in the events that occurred up until now. He understood that his question was a tad pushy, but one could only try if it would get any results.

      Perhaps with a man such as us,
      there is no question deemed as intruding as
      ’Hey, how is life in general?

  Prompted by his query, claret irises held momentarily his. The same spanning silence — only a second or slightly more — often granted in a call I make whether or not a man should live or die hang heavily between us. Perhaps to this man, it is the same decision. It was not with such a realisation, however, that both corners of roseate lips edge up in a look of quiet bemusement, an emotion of which, regretably enough, could only be observed in ruddy orbs’ ebulient glow.

  ”Let me guess…
   Red, isn’t it?”

       Whatever light’s trickery it was
       that had earlier introduced the changes in the ex-Turks’s calm facade,
       it might very well be just a dream
       with perfectly apathetic
       the raven haired man looks now.

        Nothing is impossible at all.”

  I place a Glock on his desk, having now came to stand before him. Cold blacken metal contrasted sharply the surface it currently resides on. The living may look upon the dead; there, between our forms, is the line shaped from smoke, bullets and burnt powder.

    ”I imagine you already have a new one issued…
     Still, …
     I would like there is always a place for the lost.”

  Your gun, Director, is what this talk is about
    &   Nothing more.


#vincent valentine #cid Highwind #nanaki #red xiii #yuffie kisaragi #valenwind #doujinshi


I cringe, but then I still laugh at this. Ooooooold.

Pages three and four. It was very short.

Nanaki, you little shit.


#vincent valentine #cid highwind #nanaki #red xiii #yuffie kisaragi #valenwind #doujinshi


Old. So fucking old. Years. Years, damnit. My first, very short doujinshi with traditional inks and screentones, drawn for my friend, Lauren. I had a knack for screwing up the inking process so my traditional art always looked wonky. I just now found the guts to upload it, someone else might get a laugh outta it, too. Read right to left.

Pages one and two.


#tacticalxkiller #;i aim to queue




The ravenette may not have vocalized such a thought aloud. Still, if the prior absconded exhalation has not proven enough a telling, a low chuckle that soon follows at her daggered look would have been. To this man, the rumbling consonance serves to stress his point as much as to dismiss it entirely.

    ”I suppose…
     I know now how you have managed
     to keep Red in line some of the time.”

"Because he found out how much my left hook hurts…"


It had taken a hell of a long time to teach him how painful it was at that. Not to mention the help of a haste spell just to ensure her ability to actually catch him at that.

  ”Perhaps I will get to find that out one day.”


  The neutral tone has made it so that the statement is, in no way, a taunt, but more so a quiet musing toward oneself. Perhaps, it could be said that the particular promise is something I would look forward too. A friendly fight between Turks is rarely shunned by that Valentine once.

Source: sanguinesaint




*that wasn’t all she wanted to know, she planned on being friends with him* ‘^’ wait….

Without another word, I turn and leave, having long abandoned any inclination to make more acquaintances.

    You know what they all said
    — less with the knowing,
     …less with the heartache
     &   we all know how Vincent Valentine
        has that to last a lifetime.

Source: sanguinesaint


#duskmateria #;i aim to queue

"Continue from a thread with duskmateria here.”


Umm…*she gets nervous*well….how are you?

Outofcharacter: :D I see, heck to be honest you are the 1st multi Vincent blog I’ve found I wasn’t determined to find you I just saw you and thought, “hey it’s a Vincent blog that does Turk him that’s pretty awesome”. well I’m glad I found your blog, you seem nice ^_^



  For God’s sake, not again….

  ”Tolerably well
   but if that is all you had wished to learn
   then I must excuse myself.”

outofcharacter: “Thank you nonetheless. I’m just glad people take notice.” :3