The Sleeping Demon

[High's .Valentine.]

Username: Highwind
Current canons: Cid Highwind, Loz, and Xigbar
Canon you're auditioning for: Vincent Valentine
Media canon is from: FFVII series
Is the current canon taken?: Noope
Audition post:

A sweet summer day under the tree. A soft timid caress on his bare hands. A basket. A surprise. A love. A loss.

Thirty years later, he was still losing his mind.

The crimson figure shifted in his nightmare. The red headband made out of rags became moist and heavy as the fidgeting slowly turned into full scale tremors. Swift uneven breaths accompanied low grunts of discomfort and soon, the man was a cacophony of agonized moans and groans. Unable to turn over due to the confined spaces of the stone coffin, Vincent Valentine’s arms sprang to each side of the coffin awkwardly, pushing with heaving effort, as if he could force the claustrophobic walls of his grave apart simply by exerting strength he did not have. The golden gauntlet on his right hand crackled as it was scraped against the grainy asphalt of the stone coffin. Sparks lit his pale, gaunt face, before dying out into a panicked darkness. His eyes remained closed. He was too afraid to open them.

Then silence.

The demon’s arms slipped back into the usual spot at his side, sore and throbbing from his sudden spastic movements, the only exercise he gets in this enclosed space. Uneven gasps of breath slowed to sleepy deep sighs, preserving what little fresh oxygen in the coffin. Someone had left the dying man a small breathing hole. Enough to keep this agony going, and enough to sedate his oxygen deprived brain.

Eyelids twitched. If he opened his eyes, he would be met with more darkness so it made little difference. If he opened his eyes, he would want to leave. Thus, his eyes shut tight, even as Vincent awoke from his nightmare.

Vincent’s nightmares were all similar. A broken record that replayed itself over and over. He could not avoid it, having given himself this punishment of reliving the same pain every day for the past…who knows how long. He could only shoulder this burden. Parts of him, bits and pieces of his conscious that he had discarded eons ago, knew that he didn’t have suffer. Relief will come, he just needed to wait. However, that was the Vincent Valentine of the past. The Vincent today knew of no end to this repetitive torture. Just sleep, wake, and sleep. He waits for nothing, no one except for the day when the world he dwells on cease all movements and the creatures that walk on Radiant Garden disappear, one by one. But that day is out of his grasp, and so, to reduce his torment by just a little, he gave up all hope of redemption. The mercy of liberation was not his to enjoy.

There was nothing else to do except to sleep and dream. Vincent’s only other option left to keep himself relatively sane—or as sane as he would like to believe himself to be—was to think. It was pretty much a cycle. Sleep, dream, wake, and think. Contemplate, reflect, mull over every single piece of his life. Thus, he never forgot anything about Verdot, his leader, every nuances of the lab he had been assigned to protect, and even Hojo, which he would replay over and over in his mind, torturing himself in every single possible way he could think of.

Even the quiet pastime of contemplation did him no good. Vincent could only dwell on his failure, which had allotted for his own downfall and most importantly, his beloved’s. Two crimson orbs appeared within the dim stillness of the coffin.

Anguish.

Utter disgust, spite, for everyone, and everything. Drawing long breathes, Vincent shifted each anger spiked through, letting the savory sting of rage rest on his tender, unstable mind. He had practiced this so many times it had become a paradigm. Gaast, Shinra, Turk, Verdot, Hojo.

Then finally…stillness. Lucrecia. The glowing red marbles blinked out, and the man felt the sleep that came with the tranquility. At the same time, bitter resentment prowled, waiting for him to become vulnerable.

Momentary peace…

There will be no end to his insanity.

[/blockquote]

[yami]

HAD to be two of you going for this dark man xD Hmm...

Your writing has captured an interesting aspect of his character, pulled fresh from FF7 no less. However, this is Kingdom Hearts, so there's something else I'd like to see here. When Nomura discussed Cloud from KH1 and his uniform, he mentioned the role was meant to be played by Vincent. I'm going to give you a scenario I'd like you to play out as a result.

As Vincent, you are within the Underworld speaking with the Lord of the Dead himself. He has spared you from your nightmares, he promises you can see /her/ again. However, in order to fufill this wish, you must work for him. You must become the darkness within you. Roleplay that for me and we'll see.

[Akito]

Ho, I think you have the, for lack of a better word, 'emo' down pat. I'd approve it, as is -nod- But seeing as FSA wants more, you'll have to abide by it.

Unless you use uber hax admin powers to override him. She can totally do it.

[High's .Valentine.]

I can usually go on and on about Vincent...so no need to override him. XD
Here you go, sir. I'm assuming I need one last approval from you or someone else seeing that Akito already gave his. Or would I need another two?

And ur, I've never played Hades before. D8

I am getting less…human.

Hades gathered only the desperate, those so distanced from what is human that there’s nothing left but the feral darkness of their heart. It is the animal inside of us that the Lord of the Dead whispers to. There is no light to save us, no point in hoping for a better tomorrow.

It was to his side that he summoned the Demon Hound. A beast with a golden gorgon claw, crimson eyes heavy with guilt, ragged and tattered, content only to sleep among the dead for the rest of eternity. It was a punishment gone wrong. Originally a hope for redemption that had turned into leaden agony and a slow wait for rot as the decades passed. Unlike the dead though, the figure that rests in the coffin resists decay. And it was with the body of a young man did Vincent Valentine, a soul that should have long been reborn, arrive at Hades feet.

Good to see you awake, man. Enjoyed your beauty sleep?

Even the light of the underworld was too bright for him. Standing on limbs that had not felt weight for several years, Vincent took his times to open his eyes. And more time to look around his new non-claustrophobic setting. The reek of death and sulfur clogged his nostrils and Valentine could feel nothing but sickened by his surrounding. Yet all the new scents bombarding this hermit was a welcome to the wispy existence he had held in the coffin. This was real death, the kind he should have been enjoying a long time ago.

The gaunt man bit his lips in concentration as he lifted his golden hand and wiggled the five claws. Rust has not found his metal limb. Just like the rest of him, it was frozen in time. Something in the background waved, impatient for his attention. Squinting at the blue haired outlandish man before him, Vincent put down his clawed hand and gave him an apathetic stare.

Huh, the tall, dark, silent type, aren’t ya?

The lack of response that followed seemed to irk the man more than satisfy his question.

Fine, whatever floats your boat. I prefer the chatty ones, but hey, we can’t get everything we want.

“No we can’t,” came the simple reply. His voice was coarse and old. Deep but cracked. Unused to his own voice, Valentine flinched slightly from the strange tone, clearing his throat.

Woah, gotta use that pipes of yours more often, bud. Anyway, I’m Hades, Lord of the Underworld! The introduction was flamboyant. Literally. The cloaked figure could do nothing but close his eyes as a bright flare of blue fire burst forth from the God. The imprint of white dust remained burned into his pupils even as he opened his eyes.

Ahem, let’s get to business then, shall we?

“What business would I have with the dead?” he was, after all, immortal in a sense. Valentine found himself resisting the idea of death though it was all that he had longed for while he was locked in that little morbid box of his. Why not just take him? Why release him first? Was it to dangle this juicy satisfying feeling of standing on your own two feet, wiggling your fingers, and talking before snatching it all away from him? The assumptions were cruel, and Vincent gave Hades a smoldering look from under the mantle of his red cloak.

I heard you’re the best dog I can get in the area.

Dog. Vincent turned his head away from Hades. He was a dog when he was alive. Would he remain a dog even in his death?

I have a job for you.

“The payment?”

Fast, aren’t you…? Don’t worry, I haven’t gotten to the part where everyone wins. Vincent stood back as a cold hand rested on his shoulder. Touch was unappreciated. Especially if the first contact he had in years was that of a Death God.

Your job is to kill that incessant pest of a brat, Wonderboy…Hercules. Your reward? Your freedom from that coffin of yours…sounds good huh?

Vincent glanced at his legs. Skinny legs that trembled under his light weight. For the price of being someone’s dog…

“Not enough…”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT ENOUGH?

“My time in the coffin was out of free will. It was not involuntary. I was not locked there. I dealt my own fate.”

He watched the God simmer in a plain look of apathy. Vincent had not been locked away long enough to be so naïve.

Alright…a tricky dog. What about this then?

What followed was too much for Vincent’s weakened legs. He fell to his knees, cringing at the physical pain that he had been alienated from for thirty years. Before him stood the translucent pale figure of a miserable woman, long hair tied back by ribbons, white dress, sickened bony face and limbs.

“Stop…”

This isn’t fake, buster, it really is that beloved of yours. Kill Wonderboy, and I’ll bring her back for you, fleshy and chubby and giggly like she use to be.

“She’s dead.” He shuddered as a cold hand, this time opaque and bony touched his shoulder.

I’m the Lord of the Dead. I call the cards on who’s dead or not, kiddo.

Vincent strained his neck and forced himself to look at the woman he could not save. Her gaunt dark eyes peered back at him and the raven haired male had half the thought of crawling back into his coffin and avoid the sun for another few decades.

No, he cannot. They say that it is easier to fall than to get up. Vincent had fallen too far. The minute Hades had summoned him, the minute he had remembered how to stand, he knew that the willpower required to force himself back into that cramped box would be enough to snap his frail figure in two. Vincent Valentine would continue to fall into the darkness, if it was simpler that way. Whether the Lucrecia before him was real or not, he could not return.

He stood, avoiding the ghostly image of a bitter wound.

Good boy.

BANG.

Valentine reveled in the sound of the gunfire and the sleek feel of metal in his black gloves. He twirled the gun in his hand before the weapon disappeared, inwardly pleased with himself, and turned towards the door. Behind him, Hades stood stunned momentarily before realizing the loss of his blue fiery hair to the gun’s single bullet. His cloak flapped behind him, and Vincent opened the door of the chamber that confined the two.

“I will kill him,” he said tersely, stopping at the opened doorway. “And you will fulfill your promise.

But I am not your dog. ”

The door closed behind the Masterless Hound.

[yami]

2/2 Get this man into RP. If you can kill Herc I'd give you 800 munny xD j/k