First Person: [A forbidding face appears on then screen, unkempt black hair framing pale skin and near-luminous red eyes. The expression on this face is grim at worst, unreadably flat at best. When he speaks, his voice is low and contains a touch of gravel, as though rough from disuse.]
Does anyone in this city have access to a blender? I want one.
[...well, that was unexpected. Maybe he's not so bad....?
Or maybe he is. He never actually specified what the blender was for, after all.]
Third Person: Vincent entered the cool shelter of the cave, ignoring--perhaps even welcoming--the chilly spray from the falls behind him as his footsteps echoed off the light stone. This was a hidden place, a sacred one, known to only a handful of people in the world. Lucrecia's cave. The spirit was gone, but memory lived here--memory, peace, and silence, complete save for the rush of water nearby and the slow dripping of cold, clear water at the entrance where he stood. He felt like a trespasser here, a black spirit of sin in a home dedicated to light, but at the same time it was his: a sanctuary. The only place on the Planet's surface where he could be at rest. Strands of black hair clung to his face as he stepped over the crystalline puddles, droplets of water clinging to the fabric of his cloak and the metal curves of his claws--he paid it no mind, accepting it and embracing it as part of the experience.
"Lucrecia..."
The name left his mouth almost involuntarily, his low, rasping voice, rough from disuse, disappearing in the microcosm of time and space that he felt separated him from the rest of the world. He had brought the gun with him, Death Penalty; his other weaponry was left outside as a rule, but Death Penalty came with him, and its presence was felt heavily; at no other time did a gun carry such weight, such importance in his mind as now. His gift from Lucrecia, his forgiveness... or what could be forgiven and never could. He stopped in the cavern, shutting his eyes, letting time pass over him and falling back into the deep, bitter recesses of memory.
Lucrecia...
The smell of crystal and damp, clean air filled his nose, the sound of rushing falls and slow, echoing droplets, the steady, rocking rhythm of the train, a muted undulation as it raced along its tracks--
...wait. What?
His eyes flew open. He jerked up, dislodging the gun--Death Penalty--that had been nestled against his clawed arm; he moved quickly to catch it, but his eyes were on the place around him, the inside of an old-fashioned, pre-Materia locomotive....?!
Re: [CANON] Vincent Valentine | Final Fantasy VII | No Reserve | 2/2
Does anyone in this city have access to a blender? I want one.
[...well, that was unexpected. Maybe he's not so bad....?
Or maybe he is. He never actually specified what the blender was for, after all.]
Third Person: Vincent entered the cool shelter of the cave, ignoring--perhaps even welcoming--the chilly spray from the falls behind him as his footsteps echoed off the light stone. This was a hidden place, a sacred one, known to only a handful of people in the world. Lucrecia's cave. The spirit was gone, but memory lived here--memory, peace, and silence, complete save for the rush of water nearby and the slow dripping of cold, clear water at the entrance where he stood. He felt like a trespasser here, a black spirit of sin in a home dedicated to light, but at the same time it was his: a sanctuary. The only place on the Planet's surface where he could be at rest. Strands of black hair clung to his face as he stepped over the crystalline puddles, droplets of water clinging to the fabric of his cloak and the metal curves of his claws--he paid it no mind, accepting it and embracing it as part of the experience.
"Lucrecia..."
The name left his mouth almost involuntarily, his low, rasping voice, rough from disuse, disappearing in the microcosm of time and space that he felt separated him from the rest of the world. He had brought the gun with him, Death Penalty; his other weaponry was left outside as a rule, but Death Penalty came with him, and its presence was felt heavily; at no other time did a gun carry such weight, such importance in his mind as now. His gift from Lucrecia, his forgiveness... or what could be forgiven and never could. He stopped in the cavern, shutting his eyes, letting time pass over him and falling back into the deep, bitter recesses of memory.
Lucrecia...
The smell of crystal and damp, clean air filled his nose, the sound of rushing falls and slow, echoing droplets, the steady, rocking rhythm of the train, a muted undulation as it raced along its tracks--
...wait. What?
His eyes flew open. He jerked up, dislodging the gun--Death Penalty--that had been nestled against his clawed arm; he moved quickly to catch it, but his eyes were on the place around him, the inside of an old-fashioned, pre-Materia locomotive....?!