I was under the impression that
no smoking were allowed in this area.”
Cid gave a hardy laugh and he folded his arms. “Ain’t stoppin’ me now is it? ” he asked. He turned his head and blew out the smoke. “How yer been, Vince?”
Crimson form exhaled,
mild exasperation and bemusement as well combined.
”Apparently, it has not.”
”Tuesti shared with you my movement,
My answer differs not.”
p i t y
— so do excuse the gunman
if any display of such an expression
on the silverette’s facade
was to be received
with a look of pure annoyance.
…you are here.”
”You would understand
that I can’t let you go.”
…knowing naught your intention.
Whatever pity he might have felt (if he truly even felt such an emotion) was soon squished anyway, his own features twisting in annoyance, "as if you could stop me." Not even spoke with arrogance, it was a fact to him.
A tilt of a chin; fingers twitching and ready to move, to grab, to kill in a moment. No, Yazoo didn’t take any chances anymore. If there was one thing he was good in, it was just that.
Naught was to be said
to retort the silverette’s bold statement.
Silence was an answer enough in itself,
& as such,
the crimson gunslinger’s own nonchalant gait
in which a holster upon which
gloved hand leisurely rested
was carelessly unbuckled
— the sound deemed only as loud as a man’s exhalation.
"Why are you here, Yazoo?"
how the man hates sounding like a broken record..
”After all, she is not.”
Frail and lithe, that Valentine boy had been once as well. But unlike the Shinra heir, Vincent was also tall for his age. Hardly is there any argument on whose genetic trait it is that the young raven haired inhabited with regard to his height.
Grimoire Valentine was tall
his wife was often compared to
a delicate Wutain porcelain doll.
Whichever poor individual
has the misfortune of crossing her path however
has better be well-prepared.
Therein that petite form
is the courage of a fierce lioness.
”Why don’t you go and do that?” Sotto voce deems no louder than the very same winds that breath their whisper along the stony chambers. Tenuous index will tap against crimson wrapped temple in idle as the next part of his statement is countered. “On second thought, why don’t you go and do that about genetics too…”
”— just so you would know that I did not lie….”
Claret glance will chance sideways before I add in a quiet murmuring that seems more direct toward myself than my current company. “Who know, it could have been a great experiment.” If there had been a hint of this man’s own bitterness, I would suppose it is justified.
”I can’t bring the dead back, kid.
Not even all the money in your father’s empire can.”
Pausing a mere moment, I continue.
”As for my own circumstance, it is rather… complicated
but this, I will say,
no dead should be brought back to sate the need of the livings.
Your mother is better where she is.”
I can’t see who else could it be.
It has to be the boy’s mother.
All children usually mourn after theirs.
”Also, Val is what the people I once worked with call me.
How is that then not my name?”
Rufus gave him a glare. Even as a 5 year old he had the art perfected. The look of a hissing cat ready to bite. Vicious and adorable. “Don’t mock me Mister V! I’m smart! I can read plenty of books!”
He remembered just a few weeks ago. Father had found him trying to read company records. His Father had told him to read them out loud. That is— if he understood them. The boy had attempted to read them then to his Father. Stammering, stuttering… nerves colliding down on him as he’d come to a word he didn’t know. His Father yanked the papers. Issuing several corrections and walked away. Telling him simply to “Work harder…”
His small fists clenched. “Your lying! You came back. So you have to fix my mom. You have too! Then my family will go back to normal. How can she be better in the lifestream! All Father does in yell, smoke, work and bring back girls who look just like her!”
He crossed his arms. Yanking the cape around himself firmly. “I’m not leaving here. No matter what you do to me. I’m not leaving. Either you agree to help or you’re looking after me. Whatever your name is Mister V!”
His bright blue eyes lingered with a film of tears.
Yet the boy didn’t cry.
Didn’t make a whimper.
He just sat.
Curled in crimson mantle.
"I’ll live down here with you."
"In a coffin if I must."
”As I am sure a smart boy as you are
would not have wanted
to jump to a conclusion first
without haven’t before
The crimson scarecrow has made his statement so casual, so nonchalant in how a pair of irises of as vivid a shade as his cloak has glanced off the top of the other’s aureate crown and to the door. Still, as claret gaze came to lingered upon the only exit to the room, it may not be denied that the skin above twin sable brows did bunch up, forming a small frown no matter how brief the expression was.
”I was brought back and…
that was not by my own accord;
hence, makes all the differences.”
Annoyed gaze returned then to meet his glare. If Rufus Shinra was a young kitten throwing his hissy fit, then Vincent Valentine would definitely be the seasoned beast, especially with the portrayed disapproval as he carefully extracted his crimson mantle from the other’s tiny grip. How the room dimly-litted ambience reflect off each cuspate tips of a metallic gauntlet then only seemed to make the man’s next statement all the more cogent.
— are leaving.”
"I have gotten rid of fussy felines more than once.
It’s not as troublesome as most make it appears.
Besides, there’s nothing down here
for the livings
but rats, bones, more bones and spiders.”