Ded
Right. Still no clue where this is going.
With Zack leading the way, the motley gathering made good time back to the industrial city and its techno wizardry. The change in air quality and noise pollution went from gradual to blatant the closer to the border they walked. Cars and bikes started passing them with greater frequency and he could feel Squall getting twitchy. Two hundred sixty-three years living in a city and the elf still felt more at home with dirt under his heels and trees at his back.
Except fifty years ago Squall died and he’s not an elf anymore. Still had the pointy ears and metallic eyes.
“You missed the centennial. Seph made the cheesecake. But you were dead then so you didn't get any. We'll work on that.”
And the brunette snorted, his followers looking perplexed. Clearly Squall was as informative with them as he’d been with Cloud. Stubborn, closed mouthed son of a bitch.
“I didn’t come for your lack of culinary expertise. If I wanted to drink rat poison, I’d just drink it and get it over with, no need to ruin a perfectly good meatloaf.”
And now the looks were coming from the forward crew, his pack fidgety with a potential old member. He’d have to assuage them tonight, maybe give in and let Seph be growly.
“It was once. And you didn’t eat it anyway.”
“That’s because I’m longer lived, not immortal.”
He’d missed this. Talking and snarking and letting his tongue sharpen itself against an opponent who knew the rules to this particular game. He’d looked forward, in those early years, to having a lover who wasn’t going to leave as fast as most mortals. The elves were almost gone by the time Cloud met one he didn’t hate on sight, and Squall was young, young but with a soul the lifestream had cast out time and again to be reborn.
He’d thought, hoped, for at least four hundred years together. Squall had been a little under two hundred and the life span of the forgotten race was close to eight hundred on average. But the elves sacrificed children to live so long, their breeding population steadily decreasing with each generation as mankind advanced. The Theurge Plague had been the final straw, killing off whatever bloodlines were left.
He’d come home one day to find a blood spattered cloth and a note, the house clean and empty. Squall had explained that an Elf went off to die, so no one would have to care for the remains. He’d given his lover that last dignity, to die how his people raised him to. Now he wondered if he should have followed.
If he had, he’d never have met Sephiroth, or the twins, or Zack.
“If you keep dozing off while you walk, you’re going to fall down a manhole and I’ll laugh while you pollute the lifestream with feces from thirty blocks.”
Nope. He’d been right to let the bastard go off alone. Hopefully his corpse had been eaten by wolves before getting pulled back together.
“I’ll pull you along with me.”
“Oh good. I’ll die and be at peace, and you can deal with my bloated remains.”
Why did he ever find this man attractive? He was an insufferable pain in the ass.
With Zack leading the way, the motley gathering made good time back to the industrial city and its techno wizardry. The change in air quality and noise pollution went from gradual to blatant the closer to the border they walked. Cars and bikes started passing them with greater frequency and he could feel Squall getting twitchy. Two hundred sixty-three years living in a city and the elf still felt more at home with dirt under his heels and trees at his back.
Except fifty years ago Squall died and he’s not an elf anymore. Still had the pointy ears and metallic eyes.
“You missed the centennial. Seph made the cheesecake. But you were dead then so you didn't get any. We'll work on that.”
And the brunette snorted, his followers looking perplexed. Clearly Squall was as informative with them as he’d been with Cloud. Stubborn, closed mouthed son of a bitch.
“I didn’t come for your lack of culinary expertise. If I wanted to drink rat poison, I’d just drink it and get it over with, no need to ruin a perfectly good meatloaf.”
And now the looks were coming from the forward crew, his pack fidgety with a potential old member. He’d have to assuage them tonight, maybe give in and let Seph be growly.
“It was once. And you didn’t eat it anyway.”
“That’s because I’m longer lived, not immortal.”
He’d missed this. Talking and snarking and letting his tongue sharpen itself against an opponent who knew the rules to this particular game. He’d looked forward, in those early years, to having a lover who wasn’t going to leave as fast as most mortals. The elves were almost gone by the time Cloud met one he didn’t hate on sight, and Squall was young, young but with a soul the lifestream had cast out time and again to be reborn.
He’d thought, hoped, for at least four hundred years together. Squall had been a little under two hundred and the life span of the forgotten race was close to eight hundred on average. But the elves sacrificed children to live so long, their breeding population steadily decreasing with each generation as mankind advanced. The Theurge Plague had been the final straw, killing off whatever bloodlines were left.
He’d come home one day to find a blood spattered cloth and a note, the house clean and empty. Squall had explained that an Elf went off to die, so no one would have to care for the remains. He’d given his lover that last dignity, to die how his people raised him to. Now he wondered if he should have followed.
If he had, he’d never have met Sephiroth, or the twins, or Zack.
“If you keep dozing off while you walk, you’re going to fall down a manhole and I’ll laugh while you pollute the lifestream with feces from thirty blocks.”
Nope. He’d been right to let the bastard go off alone. Hopefully his corpse had been eaten by wolves before getting pulled back together.
“I’ll pull you along with me.”
“Oh good. I’ll die and be at peace, and you can deal with my bloated remains.”
Why did he ever find this man attractive? He was an insufferable pain in the ass.