Where's the orchestra?

Type: Original Work
Title: Roost
Rating: PG
Warnings: Main character is a lesbian.
Summary: If you have a haunted/cursed item, the Roost will take it for you. Please don't worry, they are the very best.


( The Box )

Lily isn't REALLY mine, I borrowed here. But this was stuck in my head.



The music had a hard sort of baseline to it, but that didn't matter when one wore earplugs. No one asked important questions in her line of work. Eyes followed the curve of her hips and the sway of her shoulders. Lillian could read lips anyway.

On stage they called her Lilith and very few people got the joke these days. Of course, the man that waved her over was in a priest's collar.

What would he assume, she wondered, going over the lines that she had heard before a million times, the rehashed scripts of people that think they are clever, think she is stupid, or think that she would believe them.

As long as he wasn't the love at first sight sort, Lillian hated those. "You don't belong here." He said, proving to be disappointing.

She smiled instead of saying what she wanted; she doubted he noticed that she'd removed the earplugs.

"Aren't you going to comment?" He had dark eyes, almost black in the light of the bar. They were sharp, unusually so for the sort that frequented a strip club. It meant that he was intelligent and probably dangerous.

She snorted. "You're not here for my conversation."

"I'm a priest." He looked affronted.

So did she "and I'm not here to find salvation."

"What if I am here to give it to you, none the less?" He sipped coffee, and she could not smell or sense booze on his breath.

Her eyes searched his neck, his hands, trying to find any sort of clue to the man's capabilities. Lillian was sure of her own skills, but she never took too many uncalculated risks.

"Four years of Judo, but I'm horrible at it." He answered her unspoken question.

A red eyebrow arched and she scowled. "What do you want?"

"If I say anything other than sex would you believe me?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

He flicked a business card at her and finished his drink in one smooth gulp. "If you're interested. It's rather risky employment."

She looked over the card; it was black and had one address on it, letters that shone in a flat black against the gloss. "You're kidding. Why in the world would I go here?"

"Because, Lily, you've had a lot more than four years of Judo and I can promise you that this will not be boring." With that, he stood and collected a wide brim hat from the chair next to him. He tipped it to her and then walked out.

She bit the inside of her cheek. He wasn't a stalker; of that much she was sure… for some reason. The black on black card nearly yelled at her. "I'm going home early." She informed the bartender. He wasn't dumb enough to argue with her.

There's something about the lonely stretch of 33 that always tugs at my throat. Maybe it's that point that the coffee starts to really hit me; an almost dry feeling at the back of my tongue and the top of my throat. The road reaches west and north, but ultimately makes me think "go west young man, go west".

There's nothing young about this stretch of road. The farms that hug the curves of the road are older than the pavement. I remember someone told me once that the reason there aren't straight roads in the Midwest was due to farmers being too proud to sell their land. The result was that the government had to pave around them. Of course, my father could have been the one to tell me that, so it may very well be false.

I drive for a living and have seen about every highway that Ohio has to offer, but 33 always gets me. It rolls up to 30 and then you hit US 31 and can ride the road into South Bend, right along the road to Notre Dame. I never felt a great affinity for the college. The idiocy of having to drive up to Michigan (admittedly not a long way) to get back to Indiana to go home always irked me. All because of a game.

Back to 33. I always feel sad when I see the businesses that dot the landscape along the farmlands. It's like the land itself gave up and went bad. Farms failed and turned into banks or fast food restaurants that failed and turned into small car lots or rental companies that ended up abandoned with "thanks for the memories" in falling letters. Nothing young. Nothing old. Just given up.

I always start to think about the first funeral. Everyone has a first funeral. The first time a friend died. I was fifteen when my ex-boyfriend committed suicide. He'd first broken up with me, about a week before that. He used a shotgun. I have no idea, to this day, why his mother insisted upon an open casket, his misshapen face still bothers me over ten years later. We had accumulated a group of friends that just drifted after his death.

One of those friends called me a few years back. I can't even remember the conversation, I think I responded with a "how did you get this number?" it was hardly friendly on my part. We'd met for an awkward lunch and probably both had each other's numbers deleted before we pulled into our parents driveways.

It isn't that I'm hiding from people, really. My biological father hasn't tried to make contact in years, that side of the family sometimes presses against my life, along the edges, but they never get under. Old friends aren't bad people. I just don't have anything to say and I feel like they deserve more than false pleasantries from someone who hasn't thought too much about them.

Strange things to think about, alone on a road.

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 Compilation
Title: After the Sky Falls Down
Pairing: Multiple (both hetero and slash)
Characters: Multiple
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for all games. Involves strong language and implications of sexual activities. Will deal a lot with PTSD in some characters.


Veld Dragoon was indeed ‘extra special pissy’. He didn’t like that he couldn’t find some closure and move on. Today was a day of very mixed emotions. On the one hand, he had utmost faith in Felicia. He was proud of his daughter, grateful for the years that they had to make up for lost time. Veld knew that she would be the perfect foil for the illustrious Rufus ShinRa. Not that he liked how close Rufus got to his daughter. There was something off about the boy.

That was just a little icing of cranky on the cake. Vincent returning to life was… a hard pressure against Veld’s skull. The two hadn’t spoken since before Vincent had ‘died’ and the words had not been pleasant. They were lased with hurt and loss.

“Veld.” Elmyra’s voice tore him from the stove. The kettle was steaming at him like an angry woman. She smiled in that knowing way. While he lived with her, they didn’t share a bed. Perhaps once or twice it had happened but there was just an understanding between the two of them. A shared loss of Aerith was keenly felt and neither of them could forget the day that Veld stole a dying woman and hid her body and her child with the lonely widow. She pursed her lips. “I bet he’s at the church, or headed there…”

“I don’t need to talk to him.” Veld said as though he were trying to convince her.

She took the kettle off the stove. “I don’t believe you.”

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 Compilation
Title: After the Sky Falls Down
Pairing: Multiple (both hetero and slash)
Characters: Multiple
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for all games. Involves strong language and implications of sexual activities. Will deal a lot with PTSD in some characters.


_+_

“Where are Spike and Spooky at?” Reno was one of those people who could make himself comfortable no matter the setting. It was odd, at first, to have him in Seventh Heaven. Unlike the others who always had a rather businesslike air, Reno could switch professionalism on and off in a way that was nearly like twin personalities.

At least he was predictable. Tifa shrugged at his question and looked over her shoulder. Vincent and Cloud were people that would drift in and out of the others lives. They carried an old, almost broken feel about their shoulders and a haunted look in the eyes. She had suggested, once or twice, that they talk to someone because it wasn’t depression that made them distant.

It would be remiss to not say that they had both been through hell.

“Vincent tried to leave the girl he found, Shelke, but she doesn’t seem to want to stay anywhere but with him.” Tifa shrugged at Reno and leaned over the bar.

“Chief’s in a pissy mood, fair warning.” Elena walked around to Tifa’s side of the bar and leaned in the same manner next to her. The three looked at each other in what was actually a comfortable silence.

Tifa leaned her shoulder against Elena’s and reached for the water tap. She filled her glass, took a drink and passed it to Elena who accepted. She watched Reno light a cigarette and exhale before asking. “Isn’t Veld always pissy?”

Reno and Elena considered. “This is extra special pissy. It’s… a bad day.” Reno responded.

Tifa quirked an eyebrow at Elena. “Is it the day that Elfe’s mom died?”

Elena snagged Reno’s cigarette pack from the table and shook her head. In the light of the bar one could see nearly white patches in her blonde hair. “It’s the day Valentine ‘died’.”

_+_

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 Compilation
Title: After the Sky Falls Down
Pairing: Multiple (both hetero and slash)
Characters: Multiple
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for all games. Involves strong language and implications of sexual activities. Will deal a lot with PTSD in some characters.


“In understanding the dangers that we as a Planet, whether we speak Common or Wutain, if we are Costian or Juno, face, I would like to introduce the new Vice President of ShinRa and the founder of AVALANCHE. Miss Felicia Dragoon.”

There was a roar when the name AVALANCHE was connected to ShinRa that went silent and left its energy behind as the woman took the stand. She had her mother’s hands and her father’s dark eyes, hair, and concentrated scowl. Felicia preferred to be called “Elfe” but Rufus had assured her it was best to be as formal as possible. The name still left a rough feeling along the back of her conscious.

Still, she smiled in the manner her father had when he was charming someone. “Well… you’ll all be happy to know that I do not, in fact, typically agree with President ShinRa on most things.” The laughter that followed was almost natural. The planet itself was collectively learning to live again. Zirconiade, then Nibelheim, then Genesis, followed by Sephiroth, Deep Ground came after, that was all followed by Kadaj… the planet had had nearly ended half a dozen times over in less than a dozen years. It was time for some action.

She gripped the podium and looked to her father who stood off stage- though Veld was the leader of the Turks at one point in time, he now considered himself retired and dressed as any professor in a quiet Literary University would. She cleared her throat and continued. “We have known for many years that the actions of a few can result in the safety of many. The actions of the ShinRa Turk force and AVALANCHE-” Barret and Marlene could be heard cheering on the opposite end of the stage “- have all been to the same end. However, we have not worked together and this has caused us all pain.”

She continued to outline a gameplan, something to give people hope. Felicia made sure to thank names like Tifa Lockheart, Elena DuFou, Rude Zikra, Reno Cappellirossi, Cloud Strife… the list was long and she wanted it that way. Lastly she thanked those who passed away.

When Rufus walked behind her, he placed a hand on the podium next to hers. The two did not touch, but instead, each with a hand on the wooden podium looked out into the endless crowd.

It was nearly ten minutes before they stopped cheering.

Cid was still dumped. It was a state of being in his mind. He didn't
really understand women and Vincent's insistence that Shera never
wanted a family grated on him. Had she really stayed for so long, been
loyal for SO DAMN LONG, out of obligation. Was he really that
demanding? But he'd focus on her, because deep introspection was
something Cid wasn't skilled at. It had been a mess these past few
years. Zanorcade, Sephiroth, Kadaj, the mess with Weiss and Deep
Ground... was the planet done being on red alert yet? He frowned
again. Coming to Wutai had been to just get away. Cid wasn't sure what
to make of Vincent's revelations and his relationships either and
despite how hard Cid tried to focus on that and not himself, it all
came back to Shera.

This is why he was pacing Yuffie's giant house alone. He didn't want
to be alone, but Shelke had talked Vincent and Veld into going
somewhere. A little hiccup sort of sound drew his attention. There had
been a time when small noises wouldn't make Cid immediately assess his
situation. That time was about before the first time he'd almost been
blown to hell. It was... Yuffie. Oddly enough, he hadn't figured her
for a crier.

"Ya... alright?"

The look she threw him was not sad. Her big eyes glared at him through
tears and if she wasn't sad, he didn't quite understand. Thankfully
her expression softened.

"I'm angry, Cid."

"Yer cryin."

She gave a little snort. "Sometimes women cry when they are angry...
it doesn't make sense, but we do."

That didn't make any sense, but Cid was hard wired to stop women from
crying. "Whatcha cryin for?"

"I tried to get Cloud to come by, and he's... he's just like Vincent.
I'm just... I'm so mad. I don't care how bad a person Vincent
was, I don't care where Cloud was. No one should... just... I
want to take that haunted sort of expression and make it go away, Cid.
And it won't. And it's wrong. I want to take it out on someone, but
those people are dead and gone, aren't they? There's no one to blame
and I don't know how to help them fix it. I just, I wish that I could
hug them and not have them go all stiff like they expect something bad
to happen cause someone touched them." She made a huffy sound and
threw down the rag she was using to obsessively clean a counter. She
held the end of the counter tightly and hung her head. "You must think
I'm naive and stupid sometimes."

“What in five hells do you think yer doing? This place tends to try to hire the armature night people!”

“Having a good time, who are you to tell me otherwise?”

“God, you spoiled brats are all alike, you know that? It really pisses me off to see you rich brats come down here and make fun of people’s reality. It isn’t a goddamn game!”

“You sure have a mouth on you now.”

“What, you going to show me how to use it? I swear you’re all the same. All the fucking same.”

"And don't you find it below you to be a guard dog?"

"I fail to see how my position is any of your business, human."

"Well, we are serving the same master."

"I have NO master, you pathetic excuse for an intelligent being."

"Insults are the words of a losing argument."

"You speak in the elder's tongue."

"I had a good teacher."

"You have a good master, you mean?"

"Better than your own, and if you honestly thought I was below your time, you'd have killed me."

"… what is it you came to speak with me on, other than watching the child of the Crisis?"

"I would like to send you back where you belong."

"The jewel about the Crisis Host's neck."

"…and why tell me that?"

"You're not… dangerous enough to perk her defenses."

"I'm not sure if that was an insult or not."

"Sometimes even pathetic things are not without their perks."

"Oh what's that look for?"

"So who was she?"

"Oh, an old girlfriend…"

"Another dancer?"

"Yeah, do you dance?"

*laughs* "Not like that, dear. Not like that."

"Maybe you could show me the otherkind sometime then?"

"Maybe I could."

"House demons."

"How many times do I have to tell you that there is no such thing?"

"A lot, house demons are what we are killing. In this house."

"I thought we were looking for fallen paladins?"

"Well, this is a bonus perk."

"Oh."

"I am the-"

"You are so NOT the lord of all darkness."

"But I am, I am a being of true vampire-"

"…"

"Sir is not amused."

"Nope, he's not."

"Tell me lies; tell me sweet little lies…"

"I really can't stand that song."

"Sorry, when I'm nervous I … it just comes out."

"We're lost in a house."

"Let's be fair, this is nothing like most houses."

"It has three kitchens, so yes."

"Wasn't Edmund supposed to stay with us?"

"Supposedly."

"That's not very uplifting."

"Yeah, and the creature circling the island is also not uplifting. How'd we get into this mess?"

"Tell me lies; tell me sweet little lies…"

"…oh no no no you can't disguise…"

"I thought you were a professional…"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, SORT OF!? We're going to get killed down… oh god, it's a body."

"Shush."

"What do you mean sort of?"

"I… am invested in this."

"INVESTED. You're NOT A REAL COP?"

"No, sorry."

"I'm going to haunt you."

"I don't believe in ghosts."