Cloud tried not to worry too much at first when Wedge took longer to get home than expected. Unfortunately, with both his heart and his newfound draconic instincts firing on all cylinders towards keeping someone important to him safe, that is a losing battle for him. Maybe he got caught up discussing things with Biggs. They probably have a ton to catch up on. Knowing Wedge, he's probably fussing too. It's no huge deal. He's fine.
Except as each minute passes with no sign of Wedge's warm presence or smile passing through their shared front door, Cloud becomes more and more restless, pacing around and trying to busy himself with small chores. Rearrange a pillow here, fold a blanket there...It doesn't help. The need to be certain, the want to see Wedge again gnaws at his stomach until finally the blond concedes and steps outside to head toward the cottage where Biggs took up residence. Just in case.
That is when he runs into a lone intellect devourer that catches him unawares, along the snowy path. So lost in his own head and laser-focused on finding Wedge, Cloud finds himself making the rookie mistake of not watching his own back. By the time he realizes he's been caught unawares, taking it out with a sweeping slash, it has already gotten close enough for Cloud to get caught in the radius of the resulting explosion.
The world around him falls away. He's caught in a memory. This memory, though from a perspective different than his own, is familiar. One in which he appears, even. He sees himself come through the entryway of Seventh Heaven, watches as he reaches the front counter, and offers a flower to little Marlene. He remembers it well, how he wanted to make her smile. Anything, he thought, but awkwardly writhing under the collective gazes and expectations of everyone around him. Why not focus in on something kind, shake off the adrenaline of the evening's events? He did the first thing that came to mind, and chose compassion, contrasting so starkly with the acts of violence he'd just enacted earlier.
It clicks then whose eyes he's seeing all of this through, when the emotions hit. Overwhelming empathy, fascination, and finally a longing that threatens to take his legs out from underneath him. It is pure, and genuine, and all for him. Undeniable, beautiful, aching, it leaves Cloud stunned and unable to think of anything else until the memory fades out.
Dazed and with something now fluttering, stirring, fully awake in his heart, the merc pushes onward to find his...His...Friend doesn't feel right. Cloud does eventually find Wedge, in a way that kicks up something so very rare in him. An emotion he fights to only feel in his nightmares: sheer panic. First, he spots the bandana and breaks into a sprint. His voice, though still mostly steady, carries that panic in a way not too hard to glean by anyone familiar with his mannerisms. "Wedge?"
Then, his eyes move further up the path to see the man in question crumpled over in the freezing snow. Every instinct in him surges. He gets to Wedge's side, kneeling down to gather him in his arms and lift him up without hesitation. That returning SOLDIER strength (and perhaps some of a draconic nature) makes it just as easy as scooping a cat or a chicken up.
"Hold on, I got you," he says, voice tense with worry as he retraces the steps back home. Cloud is already assessing the wound, eyeballing the amount of blood, leaning back on SOLDIER emergency field medical training. Nasty as the wound appears on the surface, Wedge seems stable. But who knows what that thing did to him. His - his important, wonderful someone. His Wedge.
no subject
Except as each minute passes with no sign of Wedge's warm presence or smile passing through their shared front door, Cloud becomes more and more restless, pacing around and trying to busy himself with small chores. Rearrange a pillow here, fold a blanket there...It doesn't help. The need to be certain, the want to see Wedge again gnaws at his stomach until finally the blond concedes and steps outside to head toward the cottage where Biggs took up residence. Just in case.
That is when he runs into a lone intellect devourer that catches him unawares, along the snowy path. So lost in his own head and laser-focused on finding Wedge, Cloud finds himself making the rookie mistake of not watching his own back. By the time he realizes he's been caught unawares, taking it out with a sweeping slash, it has already gotten close enough for Cloud to get caught in the radius of the resulting explosion.
The world around him falls away. He's caught in a memory. This memory, though from a perspective different than his own, is familiar. One in which he appears, even. He sees himself come through the entryway of Seventh Heaven, watches as he reaches the front counter, and offers a flower to little Marlene. He remembers it well, how he wanted to make her smile. Anything, he thought, but awkwardly writhing under the collective gazes and expectations of everyone around him. Why not focus in on something kind, shake off the adrenaline of the evening's events? He did the first thing that came to mind, and chose compassion, contrasting so starkly with the acts of violence he'd just enacted earlier.
It clicks then whose eyes he's seeing all of this through, when the emotions hit. Overwhelming empathy, fascination, and finally a longing that threatens to take his legs out from underneath him. It is pure, and genuine, and all for him. Undeniable, beautiful, aching, it leaves Cloud stunned and unable to think of anything else until the memory fades out.
Dazed and with something now fluttering, stirring, fully awake in his heart, the merc pushes onward to find his...His...Friend doesn't feel right. Cloud does eventually find Wedge, in a way that kicks up something so very rare in him. An emotion he fights to only feel in his nightmares: sheer panic. First, he spots the bandana and breaks into a sprint. His voice, though still mostly steady, carries that panic in a way not too hard to glean by anyone familiar with his mannerisms. "Wedge?"
Then, his eyes move further up the path to see the man in question crumpled over in the freezing snow. Every instinct in him surges. He gets to Wedge's side, kneeling down to gather him in his arms and lift him up without hesitation. That returning SOLDIER strength (and perhaps some of a draconic nature) makes it just as easy as scooping a cat or a chicken up.
"Hold on, I got you," he says, voice tense with worry as he retraces the steps back home. Cloud is already assessing the wound, eyeballing the amount of blood, leaning back on SOLDIER emergency field medical training. Nasty as the wound appears on the surface, Wedge seems stable. But who knows what that thing did to him. His - his important, wonderful someone. His Wedge.