Scars Aren’t Very P r e t t y

discord-executioner:

Careful claws picked through the tangled jungle of ebony hair that fell just beneath Chaos’ shoulder blades, no words or sounds of any kind leaving his lips until after Vincent had finished speaking. Generally, manners were given little to no consideration, but under the circumstances, Chaos wasn’t of the mindset to interrupt.

“I should think so.” He muses aloud. “I sense something here that is not quite…. What I will say would be normal, even for underground caverns such as this….”  Feet found a favourable path to a ledge worn smooth from hundreds of years of water lapping over its surface, and Chaos finally seats himself, though amber eyes remained elsewhere, scanning the surrounding rocks. "I believe it to be a simple excess of energy, however if that is truly the case, I should think that a century or two of life’s growth and decay will eventually even it out.“

Finally satisfied by the lack of other life within a reasonable closeness, the WEAPON’s gaze settled once more on Vincent. “I had actually been previously investigating the aura of this mountain, however, I had been out in that bitterly cold wind for quite some time before, hence my attraction to this cavern in particular.” Once finished with his host’s question, Chaos allowed silence to grace the both of them once more.

"On a related note,” He adds after awhile, “I believe that your search for materia will go quite well here.”

     _{He is hesitant to dunk his head beneath the gently swaying waves, given the one way to truly indefinitely silence him.  But the nape of his neck is sweating, and his hair feels heavy beridden with the humidity.  Down he goes, breath held and warm water covering his skull and filling his ears.  The liquid distorts some of the WEAPON’s speech, but due to his enlightened hearing, he catches every word.  Surfacing after running his hands through sable locks, he breathes deeply as he reclines against a sunset-colored rock wall.  Slapping back dripping mats that find themselves in his eyes, he holds his hair to the side and pries open eyes far more glittering than the dullness of this cave.  “I see,” is his simple response to the first half of what his companion has to say.
     Holding his air again, he goes under a second time, realizing the joy of washing the grime and chill from one’s skin.  Though he lacks the ability to swim, he takes like a fish to shallow pools and those like it.  Locating a rock, he seats himself, not unlike Chaos, and out he comes once again.  He gazes up at the stalactites above them and listens quietly, one of his professed specialties.  “I know,” he agrees. 
     Reminiscing quietly, he inquires, “…We you awake when we obtained the summon materia for Leviathan after silencing the flames here?  I…could never tell when you were listening or not; the others kept me distracted enough."  It had been a strange arrangement back then: they could not be persuaded to leave his sleep alone, nor his thoughts to himself, but small victories had been attained.  A few memories were kept from them, and they had worked toward the common goal of destroying her son.  How powerful together they were, once they were in agreement.  He finds it almost…a little frightening.}

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   Careful claws picked through the tangled jungle of ebony hair that fell just beneath Chaos’ shoulder blades, no words or...