http://needsmorefiagra.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
needsmorefiagra.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
discedo_logs2009-06-18 11:38 pm
needsmorefiagra.livejournal.com) wrote in discedo_logs2009-06-18 11:38 pm
Entry tags:
Blow it out and save all her ashes for me.
Who: Genesis Rhapsodos and Gracia Akechi-Hosokawa. [OPEN]
Where: Some random shop with sharp objects.
When: After yet another bad dream...
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Partaking in guilty pleasures. Lmfao, yes. Hop on by and discover his dirty little secret. Don't mind the silly length of this post. I just felt like writing. D|
The log:
It was one of those nights.
He had woken up in a cold sweat, a scream working its way through his throat but never quite reaching his lips. Pained, gasping breaths in suffocating darkness pierced the heavy silence. In his bedroom, the walls seemed as though they were closing in around him, shaking, ready to collapse. A haunted gaze searched for hidden monsters in dark corners. In the next room, the silvered haired General slept. So close...just a wall between them. And if Genesis closed his eyes and strained, he felt as though he could hear that heartbeat. But it was no comfort. Not tonight. Despite how close they were in reality, they may as well have been on two opposite sides of the world. Because tonight, Genesis was trapped in a place that couldn't be reached by others. The memory, his nightmare had its inky dark fingers clamped around him. Each caress a stinging jab. It played with him, snatching away the last of his dwindling sanity, trying to swallow him whole.
Hands clenched around thin sheets. A part of him wanted to rouse Sephiroth from his slumber and... And what? What could the other have possibly done? What did Genesis want him to do? The restlessness, the frustrations that followed every dream...yes, it was release which he sought at times like this. And if that should come in the unconventional sense, then no matter. Actually, he much rather preferred it that way. He mildly entertained the idea of waking Sephiroth up. Pushing and prodding, laying on the bitterness, attacking with venomous words until the other had lost his temper, drawn his weapon and struck him. Then he could have retaliated. Swords would have clashed, blood would have been shed and in the pain and darkness, he would have found what it was he so desperately yearned for. It would have been perfect and oh so beautiful. But no...
A few moments passed as he waited for his heart to stop hammering. How very familiar it all seemed. Hadn't he been there before? Surrounded by unseen hands, grasping needles, knives and anything else is mind dared to dream up. Darkness. A glint of silver. Torture. Blood. Strapped in, rough leather chafing sore wrists. Muscles tense, eyes wide, ragged breaths and bare skin on ice cold operating tables. How he had loathed those laboratories. A medley of pain and suffering behind closed doors - all in the name of....medicine? Science? A secret medical facility run by madmen. It was no wonder their insanity had fueled his. DeepGround had forever touched him. Sinking its claws into tender flesh. Whispering into his mind. Always there, always lurking. There was no escape. Somewhere in the gloom, he could still hear that voice, crooning away at him.
Such a perfect like SOLDIER...
The urge to scream intensified.
Weeks of fear and anguish and then nothing. However, the former two always returned in the guise of memories and dreams. It was strange. In the laboratories, he would lie there, waiting. Trembling in abhorrence and anticipation. He would hold his breath, mentally counting the minutes until something happened. He couldn't remember when dread was replaced by fanaticism. And soon it became something he coveted. He would lie still, he would be good...though he was sure they preferred their subjects to writhe and scream. Laughter would mingle with disgust, blood would flow and his Goddess would merely watch the scene unfold...like some macabre fairy tale. Metal would meet flesh, screams in darkness and then, fade out.
He couldn't remember dressing or even leaving the Latimir Apartment building. His senses struggled back when a sudden burst of cold air hit him. He had been traveling at a brisk pace, trying in vain to leave the demons behind. But alas, it seemed as though they were following his every step, hellbent on causing him grief. No, this night he would not be able to rest....or find peace. This night, he would suffer and not even his Goddess would be able to save him. Having no direction nor destination in mind, he continued through the dark city. Every minute that ticked by only increased his desire for...ah, something.
How far had he walked? Where was he?
Genesis stopped, trying to gather his thoughts as well as his bearings. He appeared to be in the shopping district, it seemed. Mako sharp eyes caught the sign. Brebo Avenue. Turning East, and slowly continuing up the walkway, he passed darkened windows. Sparing each only a momentary glance, he moved forward, aimless as before though twice as desperate. A sudden glimmer caught his eye and he found himself slipping silently into one of the stores. Like a cat creeping around the house in the late hours, he explored his surroundings, amusement tinged excitement mounting as he discovered exactly what kind of shop it was.
A kitchen supply store. Well, well...
A hand - without it's usual red leather glove - reached out, fingers gently tracing over cutlery. Fingering forks, spoons, knives.... and then on to the much sharper ones. A pair of glowing blues watched in something akin to morbid fascination as one - a particularly sharp one, with a deliciously jagged edge - was picked up. A thumb moved lightly over the edge of the blade. The light from the twin moons bathed the shop in a opalescent glow, making everything seem surreal. Genesis found himself utterly enchanted, for moonlight had a way of warping the mind, making even the most mundane things seem beautiful. A bare hand held the knife, long slender fingers wrapping themselves around its blade.
And there by the window, one of ShinRa's infamous Generals stood. Eyes clenched shut, breath caught in throat as he allowed his grip to tighten, reveling in the inevitable pain that assaulted him. A soft gasp in hushed silence, followed by a splattering of blood as it met the hard floor. Eyes fluttered open, a mixture of distress, satisfaction and gruesome delight swirling within their depths. A sigh escaped his lips and then a cry of outrage...
And as always, pleasure had given way to revulsion.
Where: Some random shop with sharp objects.
When: After yet another bad dream...
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Partaking in guilty pleasures. Lmfao, yes. Hop on by and discover his dirty little secret. Don't mind the silly length of this post. I just felt like writing. D|
The log:
It was one of those nights.
He had woken up in a cold sweat, a scream working its way through his throat but never quite reaching his lips. Pained, gasping breaths in suffocating darkness pierced the heavy silence. In his bedroom, the walls seemed as though they were closing in around him, shaking, ready to collapse. A haunted gaze searched for hidden monsters in dark corners. In the next room, the silvered haired General slept. So close...just a wall between them. And if Genesis closed his eyes and strained, he felt as though he could hear that heartbeat. But it was no comfort. Not tonight. Despite how close they were in reality, they may as well have been on two opposite sides of the world. Because tonight, Genesis was trapped in a place that couldn't be reached by others. The memory, his nightmare had its inky dark fingers clamped around him. Each caress a stinging jab. It played with him, snatching away the last of his dwindling sanity, trying to swallow him whole.
Hands clenched around thin sheets. A part of him wanted to rouse Sephiroth from his slumber and... And what? What could the other have possibly done? What did Genesis want him to do? The restlessness, the frustrations that followed every dream...yes, it was release which he sought at times like this. And if that should come in the unconventional sense, then no matter. Actually, he much rather preferred it that way. He mildly entertained the idea of waking Sephiroth up. Pushing and prodding, laying on the bitterness, attacking with venomous words until the other had lost his temper, drawn his weapon and struck him. Then he could have retaliated. Swords would have clashed, blood would have been shed and in the pain and darkness, he would have found what it was he so desperately yearned for. It would have been perfect and oh so beautiful. But no...
A few moments passed as he waited for his heart to stop hammering. How very familiar it all seemed. Hadn't he been there before? Surrounded by unseen hands, grasping needles, knives and anything else is mind dared to dream up. Darkness. A glint of silver. Torture. Blood. Strapped in, rough leather chafing sore wrists. Muscles tense, eyes wide, ragged breaths and bare skin on ice cold operating tables. How he had loathed those laboratories. A medley of pain and suffering behind closed doors - all in the name of....medicine? Science? A secret medical facility run by madmen. It was no wonder their insanity had fueled his. DeepGround had forever touched him. Sinking its claws into tender flesh. Whispering into his mind. Always there, always lurking. There was no escape. Somewhere in the gloom, he could still hear that voice, crooning away at him.
Such a perfect like SOLDIER...
The urge to scream intensified.
Weeks of fear and anguish and then nothing. However, the former two always returned in the guise of memories and dreams. It was strange. In the laboratories, he would lie there, waiting. Trembling in abhorrence and anticipation. He would hold his breath, mentally counting the minutes until something happened. He couldn't remember when dread was replaced by fanaticism. And soon it became something he coveted. He would lie still, he would be good...though he was sure they preferred their subjects to writhe and scream. Laughter would mingle with disgust, blood would flow and his Goddess would merely watch the scene unfold...like some macabre fairy tale. Metal would meet flesh, screams in darkness and then, fade out.
He couldn't remember dressing or even leaving the Latimir Apartment building. His senses struggled back when a sudden burst of cold air hit him. He had been traveling at a brisk pace, trying in vain to leave the demons behind. But alas, it seemed as though they were following his every step, hellbent on causing him grief. No, this night he would not be able to rest....or find peace. This night, he would suffer and not even his Goddess would be able to save him. Having no direction nor destination in mind, he continued through the dark city. Every minute that ticked by only increased his desire for...ah, something.
How far had he walked? Where was he?
Genesis stopped, trying to gather his thoughts as well as his bearings. He appeared to be in the shopping district, it seemed. Mako sharp eyes caught the sign. Brebo Avenue. Turning East, and slowly continuing up the walkway, he passed darkened windows. Sparing each only a momentary glance, he moved forward, aimless as before though twice as desperate. A sudden glimmer caught his eye and he found himself slipping silently into one of the stores. Like a cat creeping around the house in the late hours, he explored his surroundings, amusement tinged excitement mounting as he discovered exactly what kind of shop it was.
A kitchen supply store. Well, well...
A hand - without it's usual red leather glove - reached out, fingers gently tracing over cutlery. Fingering forks, spoons, knives.... and then on to the much sharper ones. A pair of glowing blues watched in something akin to morbid fascination as one - a particularly sharp one, with a deliciously jagged edge - was picked up. A thumb moved lightly over the edge of the blade. The light from the twin moons bathed the shop in a opalescent glow, making everything seem surreal. Genesis found himself utterly enchanted, for moonlight had a way of warping the mind, making even the most mundane things seem beautiful. A bare hand held the knife, long slender fingers wrapping themselves around its blade.
And there by the window, one of ShinRa's infamous Generals stood. Eyes clenched shut, breath caught in throat as he allowed his grip to tighten, reveling in the inevitable pain that assaulted him. A soft gasp in hushed silence, followed by a splattering of blood as it met the hard floor. Eyes fluttered open, a mixture of distress, satisfaction and gruesome delight swirling within their depths. A sigh escaped his lips and then a cry of outrage...
And as always, pleasure had given way to revulsion.