[video] ||Rising Sun||

[worldofhurt]

[Flashes of violet and white tear, feral, across vision, blinding in their intensity, coupled with near-immediate thunder roaring, and somewhere amidst it, a child whimpers. Voices behind her urge her onward, encouraging, but the perspective whirls around to fill with bodies--adults--gathered a little ways away from the dais dressed for stealth with weapons across their forms. At the front of them, an old man smiles.]

You can do this, Sheena.

[Everything wavers, and maybe it's the addressed shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It jerks, then, as she whips herself upright, sets her shoulders. It's natural to be uneasy in a place like this, but she can overcome it. These people believe in her, and she believes in herself. She's trained for this. Even if it's frightening, she can do it!

But another crack of thunder so nearby has her flinch. There's no movement with the one that follows it.

The image shifts as she turns back to the altar.

A pair of small hands lift, much too small to belong to an adult, and cross at an angle one hand atop the other with palms facing out. Her gloves are a dusty red with yellow bracing the backs of her knuckles, sleeves tucked into guards at tiny wrists.]

I am Sheena!

[Her voice is just as small, young--she's only seven--but it's loud to her. She can feel her heart beating, feel it racing; it's in her ears, in her head, in her throat. She's nervous, so nervous, but she has the adults from the village with her. She can do this.

...But the crackling, almost indefinite form that appears before her, gazing down at her with terrible, terrible eyes utters out something so alien that it's all she can do to stay standing there, her vision filled with those eyes.]

What... is he saying...?

[Panic crawls into her voice.]

Grandpa, I don't know what he's saying!

[The bizarre voice continues, humming like electricity between metal rods, and using a language she can't even begin to comprehend. Annoyance at the disruption. Challenge.

Feet slide against the floor as she backs away, allowing better view of the Spirit.

Volt.

Form fading in and out, forming and reforming, purple-hued lightning wrapping around a denser core, and eyes that somehow don't belong to that face set above the mouth somehow carved by that lightning--fanged, perpetual grin. A bolt strikes the ground by her foot which sends her sprawling in the opposite direction. Shouts. Voices calling to her, urging her to rise and try, but--]

I can't! I don't know what he's saying! Someone tell me what he's saying!!

[Whether it's shock or terror, there's no waver of sobs in her voice, just a flat demand. She needs to know. She needs to know! She can't hear it, but her breaths come too quickly and her vision swims for a second; swallowing, she picks herself up to face the Spirit, but...]

Stop!

[She's shrieking at it, now, and her hands fly to her head to try and block out the noise.]

I can't understand you!

[...Which seems to be the final insult Volt's willing to take. A magic circle crackles to life somewhere behind her. When the scene turns to it--when she turns, the voices of adults--shouting before--become suddenly violently clear. They rush out of the circle, though a few aren't so lucky. Lightning rains down within the circle, and between that and the shouts and Volt still speaking, she...

She's sent flying by the next bolt, off the dais and to the floor, sliding over it past the foot of the steps. The old man's there, arms wrapping swiftly around her, and he murmurs to her little things, reassuring things, his face filling her vision instead of the horror around her, but she catches a glimpse past his shoulder of the others gathering the injured and racing for the entrance.

But Volt isn't finished.

Screams. Shouts. Cries of alarm and pain. Trained adults fleeing for their lives from the wrath of a Summon Spirit all because... because she couldn't control it. The old man sends her running towards the entrance, tells her Go!, and she tries, desperately wanting to keep her eyes to the front, but she can see the bodies and her vision swims.

She stops abruptly when she hears one more hit the ground as she reaches that threshold between the altar room and freedom.]


[The wail that rips from her throat is what forces her out of the dream, lurching and reaching for nothing though the sound is more a drawn out groan in the waking world. Sheena, refusing the pay this world any heed (she knows the SFC's probably broadcasting after Zelos' and some of the others' she's seen crop up on the network, but she doesn't care, so it doesn't enter her mind solidly enough to bother), curls up, arms around her knees and her face pressed against them. She forces her breathing to slow, shoulders trembling. It works for a second. Just before she breaks down again, whimpering apologies to the fallen and their families all over again.]



[ooc: Feel free to try and interact with her within the memory, or talk to her afterwards. She needs hugs. Now in the right comm!]

Comments

Action/after waking

[chosen_gigolo]

[He's not certain what made him check the network as he locked up GV for the night but he couldn't look away when he recognized the scene. He'd heard what happened, from Sheena, from others in Mizuho, but seeing it, especially through a young Sheena's eyes...

And then the memory ends, and all that's left is a scared little girl, crying for her people. His friend, broken down in sorrow.

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Zelos puts his SFC in his pocket and all reservations with it. Sheena needs someone now and he can put aside everything else for the time being, all the complications and twists and bends of their interactions, to be a shoulder. A rock. Something solid she can beat or cry on or scream injustices at until she's hoarse.

Because it's better than being alone with your memories.

He takes off towards her apartment, having found where she was staying within a month of her moving in. He keeps tabs periodically; it's how he'd known to bring her and Colette to Ordo when they'd fallen into comas. It's simply for her safety, obviously. He knows Sheena can handle herself when necessary, he does know that, but what with murderers sometimes running around the bubble and curses messing with their heads and occasionally bodies? It's better to keep an eye.

He flies there. It's fairly uncommon for him to do so, not really liking his wings or what they stand for (though he does resort to showing them off here in the bubble sometimes; virtually no one is familiar with Cruxis and they just see it as something pretty and diverting.) but he feels he needs to get there as soon as possible. Before Sheena again internalizes the memory, lets herself believe she's useless like she used to. She'd improved so much over their journey, had gained that confidence back, even faced her fear and triumphed over Volt. He would hate to see her lose it.

There's a quiet rap on her window when he arrives, caught in silhouette under the dim filtered light of the bubble and the light from his own wings. He wants to help - whether he can or not being what's in question - but first she has to let him in.]

[worldofhurt]

[Anything is better than being alone with these thoughts. With reliving them over and over as soon as the brush the edges of her mind, much less being thrown into them so deeply as she was just now. There's the odd moment of thinking she can feel the lick of lightning around her, at her blankets. She conquered this! She really had! She'd... She'd beaten Volt. For the sake of the lost, for the sake of the future.

But it's so hard to remember that right now.

The tapping at the window jars her from her huddled position, and Sheena sits up some to paw at her eyes; she can hear a voice distantly on the SFC, with it still running, but it's not as grabbing as her window. Sliding out of bed, she shuffles to the window to peer out at whoever it is, find out the source of that warm glow filtering in through the glass...

...and lets Zelos in without hesitation. She isn't really presentable, but right now, it seems like the farthest thing from her mind. She mumbles something to him, shuffling back to drop heavily onto the bed, hands sliding between her knees.]

[chosen_gigolo]

[The Chosen lights on the floor and instead of allowing Sheena to shuffle back to the bed as she turns away, he tugs her arm instead. Wordlessly he pulls her into an embrace with her head against his shoulder, hand cupping the back of her hair and the other tightly around her waist.

He knows, for once. He knows exactly how she's feeling and he's here to share the burden.]

[worldofhurt]

[She's too exhausted, too much like putty to resist. She lets Zelos pull her however, leaning into the embrace dumbly for a few seconds before her hands lift to grip at the back of Zelos's shirt. Burying her face against his shoulder and neck, she just hangs onto him, and the tears start to build up all over again. There's nothing else she can really do, right now. There's the dim thought that she's glad Zelos hadn't seen his mother. That this hadn't been a more recent memory for Sheena. But that it was her failure with Volt rather than her success... What does that mean? Did she ever really overcome that? No. No, she knows she had. So then why?

...maybe her recent cowardice is to blame. If that's it, then it's fair.]

[chosen_gigolo]

[He stands there, stalwart, for a long time, letting her cry it out. His fingers comb through what little of her nest of hair he can without pulling and he rests his cheek against her temple lightly, a further reassurance that he's not going anywhere, that he's there for her as long as she needs.

He waits until the shaking in her shoulders subsides to speak, his voice a quiet rumble in his chest, asking a question that's not really a question.]

It never goes away, does it. Even after you face your fear and get past it, it's still there, right behind you.

[Take it from someone who knows.]

[worldofhurt]

[She needs him to stay for now, needs something solid to hang onto--something from now so she doesn't get lost in those memories, in the chain of events that covered the following twelve years of her life. Which, while they invariably led to the past two and meeting some very important persons, she's in no rush to experience all over again.

His voice is soothing, but why that is escapes her. Maybe it's the tone, the vibration in the act. Maybe it's because it's Zelos and he's seen her at her worst and at her best; because she's seen him the same way.

She does answer, after a moment of gathering herself. It's tired and not much more than a whisper, but she doesn't think she can avoid the tears starting up again, otherwise.]

No.

[chosen_gigolo]

It's okay.

[His voice is soft, grip even softer but somehow still tight and protective, as if he's attempting to ward away the fading dregs of the memory.]

You're stronger than it. You did move past it. You're a great summoner, Sheena. The entire world was reunited because of it.

[It was unfair anyway, he wants to say, pushing so young a child into that. It seems much of Aselia's tragedy is built on the backs of children. But he doesn't say it, because he doesn't want to set her off crying again. Because it doesn't do to dwell on your own tragedy; he'd learned it first hand and still struggled with it now. Even if he doesn't say it, he knows he has that kinship with Sheena, that she understands.

And maybe that's not so scary. Maybe it's good.

Maybe she thinks the same way.

Maybe...

His cheek remains resting against the side of her head, his hand on her back, but the other he pushes into his pocket and wraps his fingers around a small ring with a little green gem.

...well... maybe it isn't the time...]

[worldofhurt]

[Right now, she doesn't feel that strong. A memory breaks her down? Pathetic. She's beaten this thing before, so it shouldn't hold this kind of sway over her. How stupid is that? Even if Zelos doesn't seem to think it is, it still feels like she's just being stupid about this whole thing. It feels like it doesn't matter if he tells her how she helped Aselia after conquering her fear, she still... she still cost people their lives. Cost people their family, their parents and siblings and husbands and wives. And it... it's hard not to dwell when it's all so fresh all over again.

Zelos isn't tip-toeing around this, either, really, even if he's being like this. With that, the reminders hold more weight than she'd probably admit, and soothe some of the hurt. Better than if he simply tried most people's approach to comfort--repetitions of "it's okay, it's alright" and other things like that just for having the memory.

Stupid Chosen. He shouldn't be so good at this. it's a ridiculous thought, but it's come to her anyway, somehow.

She shudders once, grip loosening on him but not to let go. It's to properly wrap her arms around his waist and hold onto him. She's heard him move, felt the weight of his hand leave, but she's hardly in a state to question or make assumptions as to why.]

[chosen_gigolo]

[...or maybe he should. Maybe it's distracting enough to bring her out of that headspace, the one that makes her feel like this. At worst she'll think he's messing with her and will get angry. At best...

Well, that may be the best he can hope for as well. Still. It's better than the spiral he knows she's dangerously close to beginning.

So he takes the ring from his pocket and settles them down on the bed, one arm still holding her closely.]

I've been meaning to give this back to you.

[He turns it over in his fingers, the cheap green gem catching the dull light from the window.]

...you deserve something better for everything you did, you know.

[worldofhurt]

[She huddles against him when they sit, and she knows it's stupid to do that, knows she should be stronger. That string of thoughts is interrupted by Zelos, and she looks up to see him hold out the ring. Her lips curl in a small smile, watching it try to refract light in any way at all.]

Maybe.

[But she reaches for it with her bare hand, fingertips brushing against it without taking it from Zelos just yet.]

But I think I prefer something like this with the memories it has.

[chosen_gigolo]

[Her admission actually makes Zelos blush just slightly, the Chosen very glad his face is out of her view and the room is dark. She prefers this because he gave it to her? It can't be that...

He chuckles a little, trying not to sound nervous.]

You actually remember anything from that night? You were completely hammered.

[worldofhurt]

[Why can't it be? This has memories, and ridiculous and hazy or not, the memories are what make it so precious. And she knows they're happy memories, can at least remember that. Good memories... are ones to cherish.

Whether it's because she's exhausted or in thought, she doesn't catch any hint of nervousness.]

I remember enough.

[Even if it's a lot of foggy feelings more than exact events.]

I remember laughing and things just... being... nice.

[chosen_gigolo]

[Nice.

Things were nice that night, just as Zelos and Sheena, not the Chosen and the Chief. She could let go and have fun and he could let go because she was so inebriated that he didn't think she'd remember much of that night.

Maybe he was a little drink too, some of it was a blur. The tacky ring definitely was. He doesn't remember buying it. But he does remember her face when he gave it to her.

And they both remembered enough to know it was nice.

With a swallow he carefully he slides the ring onto her finger.]

Yeah.

[It's a lame response, lame as that night on the lake, but it's the only one he can think to give.]

[worldofhurt]

[That tacky ring that he's just slipped on her is the only one she's kept, too. The red and blue ones were just whim, but this one... She's attached to it. Attached to the feelings and attached to the memory. She runs the pad of her thumb along the band with a quietly amused smile. It's... strange, sitting and talking like this, but also comfortable. Really, it's comfortable like some of those days while they travelled together. The journey, even with its low-points, is an important memory for her. And it... kind of all started with this ring, didn't it? And this is also nice, even if it had an exhausting beginning.

It's like an oxymoron, being with Zelos being nice. She'll probably think back on this later and object as vocally as she can to any mention of that being the case, that she's only thinking like this because Zelos distracted her from that memory with a better one. Anything. Right now, that thought doesn't even occur. It's just... strange.]

Yeah.

[And it doesn't matter if it's a lame response, because it's true.]

[chosen_gigolo]

[He makes a quiet noise of amusement, shifting to get more comfortable. He won't be going anywhere for awhile. For once he's ignoring that part of him that tries to send idiotic thoughts from his head to his mouth, destructive things that get him punched or kicked and leave Sheena in angry tears. For once, he actively fights it. He knows it's just a product of his own fear, that it's easier for her to just send him away when he's such an idiot. Maybe it would be better...

No.

He closes his eyes, letting out a very quiet sigh, and stays even as every corner of his mind tells him it's a terrible idea, that he'll mess up, that he's not worth a damn.

He'd rather be a rock than a coward.]

If you want, I'll stay until you can get back to sleep.

[worldofhurt]

[Strange how they end up at their best when one or the other is so low. Maybe because this is the only time their shields can drop, because honesty is the best policy like this. Because of this, though, dark eyes lift to Zelos' jaw before Sheena closes them, as if not trusting whatever this is to continue if she makes eye contact. And being alone, even if her mood's lifted from the pits of despair to something comfortable, she's not sure if she won't fall back in. She's very good at falling down holes, after all.

There's some hazy memory of being sick this calls to mind. Sheena bites the inside of her lip and her voice is the sort of quiet of someone sure of their answer but not of their words.]

I... mm, I'd... appreciate that.

[chosen_gigolo]

[Then it's settled. Zelos nods a little and shifts them around, laying back on the pillows with her. He doesn't pull her into an embrace, rather letting her decide if that's what she wants. It seems polite, to an extent, but really it's because he's firm in his belief that he'd panic and say something terrible to get thrown out if he stepped over that line, an urge he's actively fighting against.

Instead he fluffs her pillow a bit then stands to get a chair and sit by her bedside. The last time he'd done this she'd been ill, in a haze, on that same journey. He doesn't think she remembers that he stayed by her side, putting cool cloths on her feverish forehead. It's different this time, knowing she's fully aware of his presence. He has to lock his ankles around the chair legs so he doesn't bolt.]

Go on to sleep. I promise you won't have another nightmare.

[It's not a promise he can keep, but somehow he sounds confident anyway. Like always.]