Fanfiction: the deaf and the blinds
Yeah, I tried to write this for the ff_fortnightly round but then I wrote too much. I think it is sweet, though.
Pre-FFVII
Title: Deaf and blinds
Author: Green_animation
Characters: Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal
Rating: G
Summary: A young Sephiroth is noticing the people outside of his windows.
The window is made of thick glass and gridded wire, distorting the world outside into a slightly warped outlook. Outside two boys are hacking at each other with blunted swords without finesse: it looks more like someone beating out clothes to dry in the sun than a fight. Nevertheless, the boy watches them with a moue of fascination twisting at his mouth; through the layers of the window he thinks he can see smiles on their faces as they carry on with their loud back and forth. It must be the alteration of the view, he would think, but for the fact he can hair faint traces of laughter as they tease and brag to each other.
The fox-haired boy is thin and quite fast, but the darker boy is a heavier hitter and seems built to withstand his hits - perhaps he was exactly built for it. The boy at the window thinks of skeletal blueprints imposed over with anatomical diagrams scrawled over with calculations. He has seen so many papers of the human body lain out like this, perhaps then it is not surprising that he has put together hazy thoughts on how people are made like this: he has been told he was created to be special. Is special as useful as being fast or stocky? The boy doesn’t know how to quantify special; without a frame of reference to place himself he cannot judge. Looking at the heavier boy take a smack to the shoulder he doubts it is.
The boys have abandoned their training to pounce on each other instead, rolling and laughing harder than even they did as they fought. Fox-hair tries to stuff grass down his opponent’s back, which is avenged swiftly by a knuckle scuffing through his hair. The boy at the window smiles softly, a flutter of something in his chest soothing his brow. He has noticed these two around the complex for a while now: almost always together, faces flashing white teeth in frequent smiles. He has never heard their voices clearly; even his hearing has limits - the thickness of windows and the confusion of distance means he can never catch more than a strain of laughter, a flash of noise before they fade back out.
“Sephiroth!” The nasal whine does not quite surprise him; he had heard an approach, but still it flattens out the boy’s mouth from the tentative upward curve and he turns to find himself reflected in the man’s glasses. Hojo snaps the blinds down, without allowing Sephiroth a final peek at the boys. “Barbarians! They are nowhere as unique as you are. Hollander is a charlatan, hardly a scientist at all. I don’t understand why Shin-Ra keeps him on.” Hojo makes to prowl down a nearby corridor as he lectures. Sephiroth stares at the closed blinds before falling behind the man, as he was expected to do.
Outside, Genesis sees the quick flicker of shadows that are easily interpretable as blinds being drawn and glances to the window. Angeal pauses on top of him to look at the same small window, now dark in the military starkness of the science building. “Do you think they’ll let him come play with us soon, ‘Geal?” They had both noticed the ghost of a child at the compound’s windows, a frail oblong face watching them. They had both asked Hollander about him, but the man alternated between telling them such a boy did not exist and making strange, adult comments that they shouldn’t ask further about him.
“I hope so, Gen. He looks lonely.” Angeal frowned, then looked down at Genesis, the playing mood punctured. “We’ll go find him someday, okay?” Genesis nodded, the near constant mischief in his eyes rekindled as he pushed his friend to the ground.
Pre-FFVII
Title: Deaf and blinds
Author: Green_animation
Characters: Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal
Rating: G
Summary: A young Sephiroth is noticing the people outside of his windows.
The window is made of thick glass and gridded wire, distorting the world outside into a slightly warped outlook. Outside two boys are hacking at each other with blunted swords without finesse: it looks more like someone beating out clothes to dry in the sun than a fight. Nevertheless, the boy watches them with a moue of fascination twisting at his mouth; through the layers of the window he thinks he can see smiles on their faces as they carry on with their loud back and forth. It must be the alteration of the view, he would think, but for the fact he can hair faint traces of laughter as they tease and brag to each other.
The fox-haired boy is thin and quite fast, but the darker boy is a heavier hitter and seems built to withstand his hits - perhaps he was exactly built for it. The boy at the window thinks of skeletal blueprints imposed over with anatomical diagrams scrawled over with calculations. He has seen so many papers of the human body lain out like this, perhaps then it is not surprising that he has put together hazy thoughts on how people are made like this: he has been told he was created to be special. Is special as useful as being fast or stocky? The boy doesn’t know how to quantify special; without a frame of reference to place himself he cannot judge. Looking at the heavier boy take a smack to the shoulder he doubts it is.
The boys have abandoned their training to pounce on each other instead, rolling and laughing harder than even they did as they fought. Fox-hair tries to stuff grass down his opponent’s back, which is avenged swiftly by a knuckle scuffing through his hair. The boy at the window smiles softly, a flutter of something in his chest soothing his brow. He has noticed these two around the complex for a while now: almost always together, faces flashing white teeth in frequent smiles. He has never heard their voices clearly; even his hearing has limits - the thickness of windows and the confusion of distance means he can never catch more than a strain of laughter, a flash of noise before they fade back out.
“Sephiroth!” The nasal whine does not quite surprise him; he had heard an approach, but still it flattens out the boy’s mouth from the tentative upward curve and he turns to find himself reflected in the man’s glasses. Hojo snaps the blinds down, without allowing Sephiroth a final peek at the boys. “Barbarians! They are nowhere as unique as you are. Hollander is a charlatan, hardly a scientist at all. I don’t understand why Shin-Ra keeps him on.” Hojo makes to prowl down a nearby corridor as he lectures. Sephiroth stares at the closed blinds before falling behind the man, as he was expected to do.
Outside, Genesis sees the quick flicker of shadows that are easily interpretable as blinds being drawn and glances to the window. Angeal pauses on top of him to look at the same small window, now dark in the military starkness of the science building. “Do you think they’ll let him come play with us soon, ‘Geal?” They had both noticed the ghost of a child at the compound’s windows, a frail oblong face watching them. They had both asked Hollander about him, but the man alternated between telling them such a boy did not exist and making strange, adult comments that they shouldn’t ask further about him.
“I hope so, Gen. He looks lonely.” Angeal frowned, then looked down at Genesis, the playing mood punctured. “We’ll go find him someday, okay?” Genesis nodded, the near constant mischief in his eyes rekindled as he pushed his friend to the ground.