All the world is green and resplendent. Every pasture is a promise, the open sky an eternity of solace. A comfort unlike any Tseng has ever known sinks into his skin. He hears the most beautiful aria, watches the most magnificent sunrise. And all around him are the whispers of arcane secrets, things that no one living will ever know again, answers to questions that men have lived and died for. If he holds out his hand, he can see all that ever was and all that will ever be dancing upon his fingertips. Everything, at his disposal, should he only choose to close his eyes and pledge to join it. He would never again know suffering. The grisly, morbid fate that brought him here will fade away just as surely as the faces he glimpses through the trees, ever evasive, never near enough. There is more of it, he knows, waiting just beyond the burning veil of light. If only he'd reach out—
Tseng crosses his arms. He has no time for this. The promise of paradise is a folly; somewhere else, on another plane, people are working and fighting and rushing and dying. It is as much an inextricable part of the planet as this place will ever be, so he stands, stark and still and straight, glowering at the light until it abates. He feels nothing as the horizon dims around him, flares once like a warning that this is the end, for real this time, he will not have this opportunity again. Good, he thinks, and stands his ground. As the world falls to pieces all around him, he thinks of what a disappointment it truly was in the end—
—and then cannot bring himself to remember why. All he knows is that he is devoid of something, as if he has spent forever searching but found himself coming up empty at the end of a long and arduous journey. Regardless, he has no time to dwell on silly dreams. He is standing upon a cliff, the very same one that staged his greatest regret and most excruciating failure. He has no idea how he got here, other than his stomach twisting sickly. Drugged, perhaps? The details of the previous night filter in slowly, one by one, until he is—
—settling upon the edge of the cliff, his boots swinging over a deadly drop, laughing until tears dot his eyes. Everything is hysterical. The bone saw. The bloody floors. Sephiroth's face. His face, which he can only picture, when that blade rent him in two. And Reno, Reno with his fists twisting in his guts and that cold look in his eyes, that's the funniest most miserable part of it all, because all along he thought that Reno was the one who would deliver him to paradise, when instead it was Tseng who would deliver him into a living hell. Oops. It's been a long, long time since Tseng's even had the occasion to fuck up like that, but in his defense, he never knew the rules. But now he does.
And now he's laughing even harder because this game has only just fucking begun.
@ reno
Tseng crosses his arms. He has no time for this. The promise of paradise is a folly; somewhere else, on another plane, people are working and fighting and rushing and dying. It is as much an inextricable part of the planet as this place will ever be, so he stands, stark and still and straight, glowering at the light until it abates. He feels nothing as the horizon dims around him, flares once like a warning that this is the end, for real this time, he will not have this opportunity again. Good, he thinks, and stands his ground. As the world falls to pieces all around him, he thinks of what a disappointment it truly was in the end—
—and then cannot bring himself to remember why. All he knows is that he is devoid of something, as if he has spent forever searching but found himself coming up empty at the end of a long and arduous journey. Regardless, he has no time to dwell on silly dreams. He is standing upon a cliff, the very same one that staged his greatest regret and most excruciating failure. He has no idea how he got here, other than his stomach twisting sickly. Drugged, perhaps? The details of the previous night filter in slowly, one by one, until he is—
—settling upon the edge of the cliff, his boots swinging over a deadly drop, laughing until tears dot his eyes. Everything is hysterical. The bone saw. The bloody floors. Sephiroth's face. His face, which he can only picture, when that blade rent him in two. And Reno, Reno with his fists twisting in his guts and that cold look in his eyes, that's the funniest most miserable part of it all, because all along he thought that Reno was the one who would deliver him to paradise, when instead it was Tseng who would deliver him into a living hell. Oops. It's been a long, long time since Tseng's even had the occasion to fuck up like that, but in his defense, he never knew the rules. But now he does.
And now he's laughing even harder because this game has only just fucking begun.