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jukeboxhound_backup) wrote2008-02-15 11:52 pm
fic: anathema (ffvii/kh)
Anathema
WIP; fan-fanfic; Final Fantasy VII/Kingdom Hearts xover
Pairings: Cloud/Sephiroth/Zack/Vincent/Chaos, and any combo thereof.
Warnings: Blood and disturbing content, foul language, and potential NCS.
Note: Written for ![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
icedark_elf ’s mercverse, and using edenfalling ’s Yesterday and Tomorrow as background. And probably butchering everyone else’s contributions in the process, for that matter.
Unbetaed.
Anathema
[prologue/?]
Hades’
When neither Cloud nor Zack returned to the pack’s shared penthouse one night, it was noticed but not remarked upon. Cloud had an occasional habit of disappearing on his own for a few days without warning or explanation, and Zack was probably with Aeris. Vincent and Chaos weren’t very happy, but demons were notoriously difficult to please anyway.
So Sephiroth ignored their sulking and growling in favor of his books (though he drew the line at Chaos using the furniture to sharpen his claws in his agitation, because really), and the twins eventually went off on their own to fornicate or terrorize or some other typically demonic pastime.
Another full day passed without a word from either man, then a third. By the fourth day, Sephiroth had dragged himself down to that woman Lockheart’s bar to confront Aeris.
“No, I haven’t seen Zack in nearly a week,” the green-eyed girl told him, entirely unfazed by Chaos’ fanged smirk and Vincent’s cold stare coming from behind the mage’s back. Her brow was furrowed with worry, and something about her twanged on Sephiroth’s finely-tuned senses (not human not demon what is she). “What was the last thing he told you guys?”
“Cloud went to Wall Market to find his tea, and insisted that Zack accompany him so he would learn the difference between tea and liquor,” Sephiroth told her quickly, cutting off any smartass retort from Chaos. He didn’t have the patience right now to deal with anyone’s bullshit, packmate or not.
“Well, I can’t imagine those two would’ve been interested by the Honeybee Inn, not with us around,” she said frankly, putting a hand on a leather-clad hip in thought, “and I don’t think anyone down there would be able to even think about killing them.”
Because Zack was dangerously fearless and Cloud was a worldly immortal. Even so, Sephiroth couldn’t erase the small frown of worry.
xxx
Ansem smiled.
His new specimens were beautiful. Powerful. Stubborn. One was tall and lanky, something wolfishly wild about his near-purple eyes; something feral, and fearless. He was touched by darkness, by death, but instead of hiding from it the man seemed to thrill to it, dancing that dangerous path of fatalism.
The other was smaller, blond, appearing more fragile but reeking of the heaviness of age. The brunet was wonderful but this one—oh, this one was perfect, the face of an angel over the soul of a demon. Such is the nature of an immortal, Ansem knew, how easily their hearts decayed with the passing of time while their bodies remained so young.
Zack, he thought, rolling the name around in his head, tasting it. A short, bold name, as straightforward as its owner, who thrashed in his restraints and snarled like the wolf he so resembled. The blond one (Cloud, how ironic to name a soul that could never die after something so evanescent) merely watched him with the patience of an experienced predator, not protesting the way he was spread and pinned over the surgical-steel table.
“I was told you gave my men some trouble,” Ansem said smoothly, moving to stand between the two tables holding down his specimens. A gloved hand skimmed feather-soft over the pale skin of Cloud’s arm, but the calm deadliness in those lovely eyes never flickered. No, it would take far more than a simple touch to unnerve one so old.
“Like fighting a bunch of fucking church-girls,” Zack sneered, baring his teeth as he did so. “Do you braid each other’s hair, too?”
“So you say. And yet,” Ansem purred with amusement, “here you two are.”
The specimen spat on him. He wiped the saliva from his cheek calmly.
“Is it money you’re after, or is old-fashioned sadism back in fashion again?” Cloud asked dryly.
Ansem’s smile was a shark’s. “Of all people, Lord Strife, I would expect you to understand that such an aspect of our humanity never goes away, regardless of cultural trends.”
“True enough,” the blond agreed easily, and cold anticipation curled around Ansem’s heart. Such a perfect specimen; breaking that ancient exterior of carefully structured control and introducing it to the depths of true darkness in the heart behind it…such rare opportunity was like peering just a little further into the mystery of the universe.
“My work, however, has no foundation in common psychosis,” he went on after a moment, taking slow steps to the smaller wheeled table beside the one Cloud lay on and running his fingers over the sterilized instruments. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time, Lord Strife. Your impossibly unique genetics might hold the secret to unlocking the very nature of humanity, perhaps even of the Darkness itself.”
“You’re really fucking crazy,” Zack pronounced bluntly. His huff blew the spiky bangs from his face as he stared morosely up at the ceiling. “Cloud, why do we always get the crazies? And why can’t they ever be hot chicks in leather?”
“You have a hot chick in leather.” If Cloud’s voice were any droller it would have solidified in the empty air between the two men. Zack grinned lazily.
“Heh, that’s right, I do.”
Ansem listened idly to the specimens’ chatter, their words confirming his initial impressions of them. Promising. He picked up an already prepared syringe and depressed the plunger slightly, tapping the cylinder to ensure no air pockets were left.
“What’s that?” Zack demanded immediately. “’Cause seriously, man, if you’re planning to get us addicted to whatever shit you’ve cooked up and pimp us out, it ain’t gonna work—“
“I’ve told you that my work is nothing so plebeian.” Ansem stepped to the blond’s side, knowing he was the greater threat; he could smell a growing concentration of ozone, but the cocktail he’d pumped them both with before they’d woken up on the tables would prevent spell-casting. “Just relax, Lord Strife,” he murmured soothingly, once more stroking the skin on the inside of the man’s elbow. “Soon, you won’t remember a thing.”
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Cloud's my favorite too; there's just something so tantalizing about hurting him that makes me sympathize with Hojo (or Ansem, in this case).
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Hope to read more of this soon because right now I feel like I just got one bite of an appetizer. And I'm hungry. *grins*
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he drew the line at Chaos using the furniture to sharpen his claws in his agitation, because really.
Oh, Seph, I love you.
Damn, I need to get back into writing Mercverse...no subject
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This is...oh, this is beautiful. And fascinating. And I am terribly, horribly curious as to just what Ansem will be doing to them. The detail about how Zack is touched by darkness and death but just dances with it instead of trying to escape it is...beautiful. So very Zack. And all the commentary on Cloud is awesome, like how the naming is so ironic and everything.
*eyes Ansem* Methinks he should have gone into poetry, not science. Or maybe philosophy? *grin*
Oh, I'm definitely looking forward to where this is going to go...
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*coughs awkwardly* Philosophy? I have no idea what you're talking about. Oh God, can you imagine Ansem as a poet? It'd be like a weird mix of Poe with Johnny the Homicidal Maniac.