[try as sephiroth might, the grainy almost distant ringing of the pain that has taken the shape of cloud's many headaches does not allow for even his voice to pierce properly and clear his mind. just like before, when it seemed like every single fiber in his body did nothing but focus specifically on visions he couldn't quite make out.]
[sephiroth may be familiar with this—the way cloud struggles, eyes closed and brows furrowed in pain; electricity sparks from where they touch, and although the pain feels like it might break his skull, there is warmth and elation from where the synchrony produces manna. he tries keeping himself upright, one lead-heavy foot after the other trying to bear his weight. vibrant amethyst pushes through the cotton of his uniform shirt, the gem on his chest reacting to their connection, even if that connection, currently, is also making cloud physically ill.]
[cloud.]
[it bounces around him, within him, like a thrum, a force driving him forward. not this sephiroth, but another—with piercing eyes and more reassured knowledge of what was, what is, and an uncertain future he wants to fight together with him.]
[but it isn't enough; cloud sags, loses his grip on the other man's uniform, dead weight as the hot and cold meet halfway there, and as the pain increases tenfold (a world in green, men in dark robes heading for the light, chanting a word, over and over), a mind as broken as his own can only take so much. nothing for it but to shut down, remove himself from the pain.]
no subject
[sephiroth may be familiar with this—the way cloud struggles, eyes closed and brows furrowed in pain; electricity sparks from where they touch, and although the pain feels like it might break his skull, there is warmth and elation from where the synchrony produces manna. he tries keeping himself upright, one lead-heavy foot after the other trying to bear his weight. vibrant amethyst pushes through the cotton of his uniform shirt, the gem on his chest reacting to their connection, even if that connection, currently, is also making cloud physically ill.]
[cloud.]
[it bounces around him, within him, like a thrum, a force driving him forward. not this sephiroth, but another—with piercing eyes and more reassured knowledge of what was, what is, and an uncertain future he wants to fight together with him.]
[but it isn't enough; cloud sags, loses his grip on the other man's uniform, dead weight as the hot and cold meet halfway there, and as the pain increases tenfold (a world in green, men in dark robes heading for the light, chanting a word, over and over), a mind as broken as his own can only take so much. nothing for it but to shut down, remove himself from the pain.]