Chapter Text
He is vaguely aware of his lips pulling downwards with an unconscious effort to frown. They’re dry, chapped, and most likely split again from his careless habits. One he couldn’t be bothered to think about at the moment; it’s actually cool in his room for once. His mako-infused body combats the cold with that burning sensation, yet ultimately fails, as his skin finally chills a little bit. The lip wound heals itself up as quickly as he had begun to scowl at the ceiling tightly. With his eyes half-lidded, Cloud reluctantly drags himself up into a sitting position. Now, he is vividly aware of the crunch beneath him as he does so. Twigs, golden petals… Sticking to his elbows?
Cloud searching his surroundings becomes frantic, more so than the restless dreams he’d experienced moments before. Instinctively, he reaches for the advanced jigsaw-like blade he carries on his back regularly. But he finds nothing in its place, only himself and the clothes on said back. A panicked grunt escapes his lips as he’s flipping himself to his feet finally. Too fast, he warns his body, swaying in those leather boots of his. Dizzy. Take it easy.
There’s no real explanation so far as to why he’s surrounded by so much wild, truly untouched vegetation. Some of which he hasn’t seen before. The biome itself and the area, too. He shakes the sticks and crushed flowers from his forearms, frown only deepening as he comes to a worse realization. My gear. He complains silently, already missing his sword and… His Materia, too. Great… A traitorous part of him corrects, You should be thankful you’re not bare naked out here.
He only huffs, going back and forth with himself as he begins to analyze every inch of the birch-forest clearing. No place he’s been, though he technically could be wrong… His track record with keeping tabs on his memory was absolute shit. Maybe, instead of sulking over memories lost to unethical experimentation and time, he should start looking for civilization. And from there, he can build everything he worked so hard for all those years ago, all over again. And hopefully not lose himself or anyone else along the way again.
…That was dramatic. He admits within the confines of his own brain, taking a swing at the nearest tree just because. Much to his surprise, there’s an instantaneous splintering that causes the entire thing to come crashing down in a pile of birch logs; conveniently for his own use until he found someone to trade or work with. He stares dumbfoundedly, before settling into a methodical log-collecting routine. A few more trees, his knuckles a little bruised, so much wood… He isn’t sure what to do with all of it. As he’s going to put it away with the rest, his inventory strikes him as unfamiliar. As far as layout goes, at least.
“How did that just click?” He grumbles to himself aloud for once, in reference to the very blatant crafting system set up for him. He tries a combination of the logs, and then a single handful in one of the four slots. And with that, Cloud Strife has discovered birch planks. Great. He repeats internally, brows and lids lowering gradually. He’s not entirely impressed, but it's a start. He’s definitely not going to be immediately adjusted to having a lack of knick-knacks and resources, but it’s completely doable. To adapt. Eventually…
He can’t help but wonder where his sword, Materia, and various potions went anyways. Did someone take them, or did he just happen to lose everything upon being spun into a new world? That’s what this is… Isn’t it?
There comes something wet falling down, seemingly from the trees or the sky. Most likely the latter. Cloud doesn’t feel entitled to move away from the crafting bench he’s created within the open clearing, despite the rain. One clear droplet soon turns into a tumultuous downpour, and he is eventually forced to slide the nine-slotted bench back into his own inventory. Reluctantly, Gaia’s champion broods his way out of one of many of the birch forest’s open areas. He ducks under the cover of bigger branches, and for the most part, it doesn’t work the way he wishes it would. Seeing as defining ‘bigger branches’ in a birch biome still means spindly as fuck.
As Cloud is dragging his feet begrudgingly along the path he’s set out for himself, he wonders just what every one of his friends would say if they were here with him. In response to the rain, maybe. Or anything. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he has been declared ‘destined’ to take down Sephiroth across time and space, without another soul’s company, for there is no use in complaining over something that has been long decided. And no matter how much his self-proclaimed loner heart tries to deny it, he can’t help but feel lonely in his granted isolation.
“Gift of the Goddess my ass…” Cloud says, a well-timed sigh leaving him as he glances at his reflection in a forming puddle nearby. Looking awful. He comments from within. It resonates with him, no matter how obvious or stupid the statement seems. The dull ache he’d removed from his chest and mind by being active with the trees begins to return as his feet are the only thing keeping him going. Even then, they begin to feel numb. It’s almost too cold now, with the rain sliding down every part of him. It’s long soaked into his attire, alongside the sludge-mud he trudges through to get to…
Where? He wonders, nothing actually spoken. I don’t have anything but the wood I gathered. If Sephiroth is here, I doubt I’d stand a chance. …Yet. Bone-tired, yet fueled just barely by the prospect of protecting the Planet he’d once ignored, and most importantly… The people… the fear for their lives… Cloud continues trudging on. Through dark dirt-slime, and so, so much leaf litter. Can’t forget the rain. The rain will not go unnoticed, for it begins to pick up as soon as he wishes it to dissipate wordlessly.
He really shouldn’t be this exhausted. He only woke up almost an hour ago now, and while nightmares plagued him, there was a steady vigor to the way he punched the trees back there. So why does he feel so trash now? …He refuses to believe it’s because of anything else but the rain. And even then, it’s such a faulty excuse. He may not be Soldier, but he has the enhancements of one, if not many more in a single screwed-up package.
He misses Tifa.
He misses Barrett, and Marlene.
Yuffie, Vincent, Nanaki… So many more.
If Cloud were to dare traverse the memory of the dead, he would most certainly collapse right there and then. He’s supposed to be remembering them. Honoring their names, their efforts… Allowing them to live on in the things he dedicates himself to every day. It’s the least he could do, right? But here he is, a pathetic, disheveled mess in the middle of Gaia knows where, sniffling because of an oncoming cold and absolutely nothing else. Shit.
He isn’t stupid. But he knows that unfolding and addressing everything that’s wrong with himself would be a detrimental thing for everyone, himself included. Especially in the middle of a storm, in uncharted territory, where anything and anyone could be lurking. Not wise. Keep moving.
Light dances at the edge of Cloud’s vision, a warm, wavering glow in the unruly rain. But most of all, a halo, a heavenly sign of retreat. He turns in that very direction with one jagged turn of his entire body. He almost breaks out into a sprint, but refrains as he thinks on how to approach this. The birch trees have faded into spruce, somehow… He isn’t sure when that happened, but it is the least of his concerns right now. Civilization.
As he’s creeping up on the lantern attached to its hut, like a moth to a flame, Cloud notices something tan and poorly dressed approaching him too. Something… He can’t tell if it's a ‘someone’ or not, but either way, his shoulders tense; his hands curl into fists next. “Hey?” He says, hoarse voice tinged with hesitance. With the overexaggerated features of this person(?), he couldn’t tell if they were another vermin or not.
“Hrrrh..” Hums the villager curiously, tilting its head to the side. Its emerald-green eyes trained on him, he notices its nose also has a strange jiggle to it every time it moves. To Cloud, it is both disturbing and-... That’s about it. That’s all that this person is. He’s seen worse, technically, but that doesn’t undermine the disgust he feels now from the hyperrealistic smoothed-over cuboid resident’s hairy face.
Cloud places his hands on his hips, halting in his tracks in front of the shed-like house and the lantern hanging from its roof. “What?” He asks shortly.
“Hmmrrm.. Hruh. Hehh?” It spews nonsensical noises from its equally grody lips. Cloud cringes and takes meticulous steps backwards. “I’m just looking around.” He informs it, brows furrowing in a mix of emotions. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
It has the audacity to make a long, loud sound akin to a laugh. Sending a scowl its way, Cloud hunches over as he goes. He feels the gazes of even more of them all around him, the deeper he gets into the settlement. He has a feeling he isn’t going to get along with these guys very well. When did he get along with everyone perfectly, anyway?
Two lone buttercup petals find themselves wafting astray nearby. A reminder, or an indication… Perhaps an arrival. Either way, Cloud is far too busy passing out in a stranger-person’s bed to care or notice the non-villager giggles ringing out from the spruce forest’s edge.
Aerith?
Zack-?
Weirdly enough, he dreams of nothing. Despite hearing their voices in the lucid dozing-flesh, Cloud’s mind cannot muster a single dream including either of his companions.
All that remains in his sleep is the wispy, woeful ghost of isolation settling deep in his being.