Antithesis [Clive, Aerith]

[Slash]

A nice town. It would be even better in ruins.

How lovely, when a plan begins to come into place.[/color]

Jericho walked with the same carefree stroll he always kept, but his eyes were alert and searching. Dog would be back any minute now- he had been sent off to kill a couple of rather powerful gang leaders, battle-hardened and armed to the teeth. He knew exactly how that would turn out. While Dog was almost insufferably boring, Jericho respected his combat prowess.

Meanwhile, he amused himself with the mental image of the bailey burning to ashes. Apparently, there was something called the Radiant Garden Restoration Committee, and he had to find out about them and adjust the plan accordingly.

He leaned against one of the many buildings and looked up at the sky, leaving himself to his own thoughts.

What a lovely sky. It will certainly look much nicer at night, when the fires will complement it nicely. I have seen the red mists rise in the sky before, the sanguine blood of masses against the landscape. How wonderful their blood will look against the blue rocks. The screams of the innocent mingling with the crackling of the inferno...Is it not the most beautiful melody?[/color]

He was nothing if not poetic. Or pedantic.

[Aerith]

The Self-Appointed Welcoming Committee

Another long day of work was still not over. Today, Aerith had been assisting several women of the town redecorate their homes. And of course, no home went without a few of her flowers for some added cheer. She was happy to do anything to bring back the smiles on everyone's faces and keep them there.

Unfortunately, she had run out of fresh flowers, so she had to return to her garden in the Borough. Her basket swung lazily on her arm as she walked. The sun was out in full force today, making the temperature creep up into warmer regions. A couple of children ran past her and waved. "Hi, Miss Aerith!"

They were already nearly out of sight, so she shouted at them. "Careful now! Don't go too fast!"

When she turned back in the direction of her garden, she happened to notice an unfamiliar person leaning against one of the buildings. Not one to let an opportunity to meet new people pass by, Aerith approached him with a friendly smile. "Hello there. I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Aerith."

[Nothingness]

Familiarity

What simple missions he was sent out to do. Both targets, while by no means weak, we still fairly easy to dispatch. It didn't matter how many men or weapons you had at your disposal if you couldn't use them when you needed them. That said, while the Client wanted their heads, Clive wasn't particularly fond of that. Carrying a blood-stained sack of heads wasn't at all covert, nor was it quick or clean. Instead, he chose something simpler, more traditional: their hands.

Despite only having just arrived, he noticed quickly that the sun was fairly bright on this world. Far too bright for his tastes. Having spent more than his fair share of time in dark, musty bars, brothels, and other unsavory places, the daytime sun was something he'd avoided. Still, the advantage to the sun was that he could actually physically see where everything and everyone was; more so the former than the latter. He always made a point to avoid people, or at the very least not be noticed by them.

And there was the Client. Walking from the Bailey, he could see the Client leaning against a wall, obviously waiting for him or imagining the destruction of this world: it didn't take long to figure out that this Client had a one-track mind. And then some woman approached him. Clive saw only a small part of her face, but he froze in his footsteps. "She's just like..." He inaudibly uttered, "Claire?"

Squinting his eyes shut, he grit his teeth and purged those feelings out. She was dead, and so was Rachelle. This woman, too, would soon be dead, as well. This world, everyone here--they would all be dead, and the Client would make sure that that was done. Walking towards him, having returned to his emotionless self, he approached the Client, giving him a simple answer of, "It's done."

[Slash]

Ah! Sudden company!

Jericho was suddenly greeted by a woman in pink, shortly before Dog showed up and confirmed that he was finished. He was a little sad for Dog. This was all probably really boring for him. Was there anyone Dog couldn't kill in 3 seconds? Jericho made a note to find someone strong enough to last him a minute.

He had seen a quick flash of something when Dog had seen...Aerith, was it? Anyway, it didn't matter. It wasn't worth going after. Trying to mess with Dog was like trying to mess with a Nobody. Completely pointless and incredibly boring. He nodded quickly when he learned that the mission was done, then looked at Aerith.

How strange. She was overly friendly. Did she want something? She just looked happy, what with the bow and the pink dress and the braids and all. It was a little strange. Jericho chalked it up to being far too used to hanging around murderers and rapists.

Either way, she might know something about the Restoration Committee.

He smiled back lazily. "Hey. My name is Jericho. I'm sort of new around here."

[Aerith]

Wary Friendliness

Not long after she greeted the man with the glasses, another man arrived on the scene. While the man with the glasses looked somewhat approachable, this new person did not. Did that stop Aerith from offering him a polite greeting and a smile, anyway? Most certainly, it did not.

"Oh, hello to you, too. I'm Aerith."

These two already seemed to know each other, so when Jericho said he was new here, she assumed that, by extension, the other man was also new. The faint smell of blood in the air set her on edge just a little, but the only sign she gave of that was tightening her hold ever-so-slightly on her basket.

She wasn't stupid. Naive, yes, but not stupid. However much she didn't enjoy judging people by appearance, she couldn't help but get the feeling that at least one of these men here was very dangerous. She wouldn't have minded having one of the others with her right now. Cloud or Leon. She mentally shook her head and berated herself. She could take care of herself without having someone else hovering over her all the time.

"If you're new here, do you need directions somewhere? Or maybe you're interested in lending the Restoration Committee a helping hand?"

[Nothingness]

Old Habits

Be it because of her resemblance to his late wife, or just because some small shred of his old life lived on deep inside him, an unusual amount of politeness overcame him. Once Aerith introduced herself to him, he bowed, and gently taking her hand in his palm he kissed the top of hers before letting it go. Standing straight again, he said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Aerith. My name is Clive."

It wasn't difficult for Clive to both notice, and then ignore, her becoming defensive. So many people became defensive, be it at the sight of him, the smell of death, or his blade on their flesh. It didn't help them then, and it wouldn't help her now--especially since he wasn't about to kill her, anyway. Such a meaningless gesture became meaningless. Still, there was some sort of inner-fortitude about this woman. And that was something Clive could respect.

[Slash]

Note to self: Tell Dog to stop smelling like a war zone.

Jericho noticed that she grew defensive at the smell of blood. Not surprising. That tended to freak people out a little. It's not like he could get mad at Dog, though- he had sent him out, after all, and hadn't expected to have company when his dog came back.

He tried not to show his amusement at Dog's-or Clive's- sudden politeness. How strange. I wonder why. Well, once I get what I need out of Aerith, I'll have Dog kill her. Or I'll just kill her myself. Either way, it should provide a bit of fun.[/color]

As for the woman, he was slightly impressed that she didn't back off immediately at the sight of blood. She looked frail, but perhaps that apparent fragility disguised an inner steel.

And she knew about the Restoration Committee. Interesting. It actually wasn't as hard to act kind towards Aerith as it was for others. Perhaps it was because she didn't seem to possess any of the traits which Jericho hated in people. Which was very odd, since a list of the traits that annoyed him could have stretched for miles. He was almost ambivalent towards Aerith, and that never happened to anyone who wasn't a Nobody/completely emotionless.

Still, it didn't matter. The very worst that a death could make him feel was a fleeting remorse, or simply a lack of amusement. She would die with the others unless she was strong enough to survive the first wave of hell.

It would start slowly. Dog's (he didn't start thinking of him as Clive after hearing his name, partially because of his acclimation to the name Dog and partly out of a grudging respect) mission was a gas leak, and would start immediate, large tensions between the lower forms of life in Radiant Garden. Tonight, Jericho was going to light the match.

"No, I think I'm starting to understand the layout of this place, at least within the city limits." He paused. "Forgive my ignorance, but what's the Restoration Committee?"

[Aerith]

Flower Power

Her first instinct when the dark-haired man took her hand was to pull it away and back off. And maybe call for help. But there was gentleness in the gesture, not hostility. Her surprise grew when he lifted her hand to his lips. A faint flush of pink blossomed on her cheeks. How did a man who smelled so much like death possess such kind manners?

"It's nice to meet you, too, Clive." If she was unbalanced at all by this display, her voice didn't betray it. Perhaps there was some explanation for the general tension she felt in the air. Her hand fell back to her side.

Jericho asked about the Restoration Committee, and Aerith's face brightened. "We're a group of people dedicated to restoring Radiant Garden to its former state. We all used to call this our home before the Heartless destroyed it. But now we're back, thanks to Sora, and we're working very hard to bring this place to life again."

She tapped a finger to her cheek. "Hmm..." The others would have immediately dismissed these two as bad news. But she thought everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves. Besides, they both looked like they could help greatly with all the manual labor that still needed to be done around the town. Oh, but she didn't want to appear overbearing and demanding. So, she thought of a way to ease them into the request.

"I know! You should come see my flowers. They're my pride and joy." Before any protests could be aired, Aerith reached for Clive's hand and tugged him along with her. "Both of you! Come on!" She shouted that last bit over her shoulder to Jericho.

Upon arriving at her garden, she released Clive's hand and happily entered her own little world for just a moment. Crouching down, she carefully examined each flower, selecting a few to go into her empty basket. All the while, she was humming to herself. Finally, she stood and faced her two guests with a smile. "What do you think?"

[Nothingness]

Are You Trying to Turn Me? (It's Kind of Working)

Ah, so she was a member of the Committee that the Client would most likely want him to kill. Or perhaps the Client would revel in that destruction personally. It didn't matter to him; the end result was the same. And now she was talking about her flowers? She was certainly a strange one. Then she did something that really softened Clive's hardened heart: she took his hand.

"So soft and gentle." He didn't notice, or even care where she took him. She more or less lead him wherever and he followed. His mind was farther away than either the Client or his haunting memories could reach. As soon as the scent of flowers wafted over him, he was truly away from all of that. Yes, he was fully aware of everything in the back of his mind, but that was subconsciously, and he had more than enough walls to block that out.

Kneeling down, he lowered a hand and, gently slipping his fingers beneath the petals of a white and yellow flower, tilted it towards him as he breathed in. "It's beautiful." The color, the smells, the quietness--all of it brought long-forgotten memories to the surface. He remembered he and his wife playing with their daughter when she had just turned five, the smell of the flower box hanging from the window at his house that his wife cared for so tenderly, the feel of Claire's body when they made love...

[Slash]

Yet do I fear thy nature; it is too full o' the milk of human kindness...was that Shakespeare or Marlowe?

Jericho watched with amusement as Dog was taken by the hand and practically dragged to a flower garden. She warmed up to people who smelled like blood and vomit rather quickly, didn't she?

Dog was acting quite strangely as well. If anyone else had grabbed him, they would have lost their arms in a second. But he was being...weirdly polite? Yes. Jericho could see it easily- he had softened.

I think that Dog's somewhat infatuated with the dear lady of flowers.[/color]

That was hilarious. But hell, who could blame him? Aerith was such an all-around nice person that it made Jericho wonder if she was even human. People weren't like this. People weren't as flawless as she seemed to be.

Why not dub her an angel? That seems to be what Dog thinks of her, judging by his sentimental emotions.[/color]

What was causing this? Jericho looked back on anything that could make him sentimental, in order to gain some perspective. Well...his old family, he supposed. But how would that even matter? She wasn't nearly young enough to remind him of his dead children. Marie, maybe, but she had almost no resemblance to his former wife in either appearance or personality. Marie had been of a far stronger breed, an outgoing fighter and a-

Woah. He had gone off for a bit there. He wondered, half-jokingly, if Aerith had some sort of aura around her, similar to Jericho's Amplification, that made others sentimental.

They had been led into a flower garden. Dog wasn't lying- it was a beautiful place. He nodded, and kept a distance from Dog as he looked at the flowers. Far be it from him to interrupt his little regression into a past self.

"It is lovely, Aerith," he said.

[Aerith]

Request

Aerith was satisfied with the responses of both her visitors, though the garden seemed to be affecting Clive on a much deeper level than it was affecting Jericho. She wondered about that. The smell of blood was now mingling with the scent of her flowers. But she didn't mind so long as she was able to share her garden with new people.

"Thank you, both," she said softly, almost afraid she would disturb Clive. There was a story there, and she was curious to find out about it.

Shifting her basket now full of flowers to her opposite arm, she picked one of the blossoms up and cradled it gently in her fingers. "I hope I can someday cover this town with flowers. Then, it might really feel like home again." Her tone grew wistful as she remembered Radiant Garden before its fall into darkness. She would make sure the laughter of children would be heard in the streets again. And not one person would ever fear to walk those same streets. Perhaps it was a foolish dream of a paradise that could never truly be.

"If you two wouldn't mind, I know we could use some help around here." She hoped she didn't sound too demanding. They were looking for volunteers, after all, not pressured servitude.

[Nothingness]

Reverie Broken

Clive was far too deep within himself to take notice of whatever else was going on now. For the moment, there wasn't any pain: no heartache, no haunting faces or visions. He was reliving a memory--by no means a special one--and couldn't be bothered. Closing his eyes, Clive turned off all of his senses and drifted away from it all.

The sun was shining, and a few clouds lazily drifted through the sky. The smell of the salty sea air was carried along by the breeze, mixing with the musty smell of wood. Both were scents Clive loved. He'd spent the majority of the afternoon working on the roof of a new blacksmith's shop and was about ready to call it quits for the day. The client had told him that he could take his time; they wanted a building that could stand up for years to come and were patient enough to wait.

Walking down the street, a wide grin broke onto his face as he approached his house. Rachelle, when she was only five years old, was rushing out to meet him. Picking her up, he hefted her onto his shoulder and kissed her on the cheek--she broke into a giggling fit and kissed him back. Carrying his daughter into the house he set her back on the ground, but she was already bolting off towards her room before her feet touched the ground. For the last job he worked, the client made dolls, models, practiced taxidermy, you name it. Clive probably mentioned something about having a young daughter and so the client gave him some dolls for free; Rachelle rarely stopped playing with them.

Claire was reading in the living room, glancing up from the pages to see her husband. Setting the book on the chair's arm she walked over and they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed. He would never forget this beautiful glimmer in her eyes when they looked at each other. Hand in hand she lead him over to the chair where she had been reading moments before. As Clive sat on the floor, she sat back in the chair and gave him this look--not quite disapproving, but a teasing look. She never understood why he chose to sit on the floor when there were plenty of chairs to sit on. Regardless, she started to talk about something--he couldn't really remember all that well. Yet, when he looked up at her, the words and voice didn't match her lips. Blinking confusedly, he looked around and saw their house melting away into stone walls and a flower garden.

Aerith was asking for his help. If she had asked him a few minutes ago there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that Clive would have accepted. But now the pain was coming back. Closing his eyes, all he could see were the faces of Claire and Rachelle staring back at him with small smiles on their faces. "I'm sorry, but I can't." He didn't deserve to be with them. He was too drenched in the blood of others to even associate with them. All he knew how to do anymore was kill.

[Slash]

How quickly love turns to pain.

[/center]

Aerith wanted to plant flowers all around the city, which both further confirmed her strangely flawless nature and provided a great example of dramatic irony. Well, there would be plenty of space to plant flowers after tonight. He almost felt bad for her. It would have been better if she had ignored him.

There's going to be a war tonight, and a fire, so hide away in the caverns where you'll be safe.[/color] For a second, his old nature as Carter almost emerged and said this, but of course his old nature was far too weak to ever do anything significant.

Jericho watched Dog switch from sentiment to pain. How only wished that he could tell why. At a guess, perhaps, he had pulled himself into the present and remembered his current, sad state as a monster in servitude to another monster.

This meant something. There was something to Dog, something deeper, and perhaps this woman was the way to pull it out. Well! That was good. Very good, as it made Dog less boring and made Aerith more valuable. He created a plan, then stored it away for later use.

Dog had refused Aerith's offer, possibly due to the sudden pain of his revelation. Well, if that was his decision, Jericho wouldn't make him do anything. He hadn't hired Dog for anything more complex than killing- Jericho found that he wasn't reliable for anything else. He wasn't going to refuse the opportunity.

"I'm reluctant to help if my friend won't," he said, and paused. "However, if you really need my help, I'll do what I can."

How you must despise me, Dog, for being as fake and as traitorous as I am. You are a monster, too, but you are more honest about it.

Out of nowhere, pain struck in his heart and spread to his extremities. This happened every now and again, he was used to it, but now? Now? He was having an episode now? Really?

The pain got worse, and he backed up and sat where he would not damage the flowers with spasms. For some reason, he felt averse to doing such a thing.

"Forgive me. I'm sick, and this...happens sometimes. It'll pass- just give me a while. It'll...pass."

Every nerve ending in his body burned in agony, and the towering inferno that resulted was worse than any of the other episodes. What was this? He tried to understand, but was prevented from doing so when the burning reached his head, blocking all logical thought.

Yet through it all, he remained motionless, and almost silent.

"It hurts," he whispered, too low for anyone to hear.

[Aerith]

Those in Need

The disappointment she felt when Clive refused to help was fleeting. She had known it wouldn't be that easy to persuade someone like him to give the RGRC aid. She could sense that death followed him, but for a moment, he had looked genuinely sad, nothing at all what she would expect a bloodstained man to feel.

To him, she said, "It's all right. You don't have to." Curiosity about what Clive kept hidden beneath the layers of blood and dirt still tugged at her. But she didn't want to pry, especially considering she had only just met him.

Jericho, on the other hand, was less direct about his refusal, still leaving open the possibility that he would lend a hand if it truly was needed. And it was indeed needed. She was about to tell him this, but he suddenly sat down away from the flowers. When he said that he was sick, her healer instincts immediately kicked in.

"I can help."

She moved to Jericho's side and knelt down. Regardless of whatever vibes he or his friend were giving off, she wasn't going to leave someone in need to fend for themselves. Not if she could do something about it.

"Where does it hurt? What does it feel like, exactly?"

Diagnostic questions were necessary, but she tried not to bombard him with a torrent of demands. She would rather know more before she started blindly suggesting medicine or magic.

[Slash]

It hurts.

The burning got worse, and his body temperature spiked. His breathing shortened quickly, becoming ragged and irregular. Someone was talking to him, but all he heard was a persistent buzzing noise. He turned to look at the talker, but his vision was so blurred that he couldn't tell who it was.

Concentrate.

He began to make out words from the buzzing. Attempting to reply, he barely managed to form coherent words in a pained, slow voice,

"Everywhere...It feels like my heart is going to burst..." He broke off as the delirium kicked in. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, and his thought process became even more confused. He lost track of where he was and what point in his life he was in, and had only the faintest idea of who he was.

"I can't...They said they'd give them back if I paid...Why was it raining that night? I don't know. Should have never...the storm was...Where am I?"

At that point, he had ceased to be either Carter or Jericho, and was just a confused, suffering, nameless thing. Each beat of his heart sent agony through his entire body. He wanted to die.