[sleep doesn't come easy for cloud, always feeling like he's floating and falling into a void unknown to him. it usually feels like he's revisiting past memories that he doesn't have the state of mind to think about while awake—at least when they aren't forceful ones streaming to him through painful jabs in his head. nightmares find their way to him more easily though, coiling unto the world he dreams of, usually taking the form of a tall man with silver hair, towering over him, his face obscured but eyes glowing an eerie emerald.]
[seeking him, haunting him, drawing ever nearer—]
[wake up, cloud.]
[there comes the command, cutting through the marshes of unknown in his mind, forcing bleary eyes to blink open slowly. he feels the hard ground against his side, his arms before him; he curls fingers into a fist to try and find himself again, thought barely forming as he presses hands to the ground and tries to sit up. nightmares with sephiroth have increased as of late, and it always leaves him feeling drained and definitely stuttering in his semblance of self-control.]
[casting a glance not to far away from his hands, he notices black boots—and his eyes follow upwards unto the physical form of his torment, of the man himself, sephiroth.]
[fear is clear in his expression—the widening of his eyes, the stricken lock of his jaw—and he's pushing away and up on his feet, hand at the hilt of the sword on his back; knees bent and back hunched, ready to defend if a strike were to come.]
[it's only when nothing of the sort happens that cloud looks around himself, allowing only his eyes to roam over their surroundings. he squints back towards sephiroth, a glare forming.]
no subject
[seeking him, haunting him, drawing ever nearer—]
[wake up, cloud.]
[there comes the command, cutting through the marshes of unknown in his mind, forcing bleary eyes to blink open slowly. he feels the hard ground against his side, his arms before him; he curls fingers into a fist to try and find himself again, thought barely forming as he presses hands to the ground and tries to sit up. nightmares with sephiroth have increased as of late, and it always leaves him feeling drained and definitely stuttering in his semblance of self-control.]
[casting a glance not to far away from his hands, he notices black boots—and his eyes follow upwards unto the physical form of his torment, of the man himself, sephiroth.]
[fear is clear in his expression—the widening of his eyes, the stricken lock of his jaw—and he's pushing away and up on his feet, hand at the hilt of the sword on his back; knees bent and back hunched, ready to defend if a strike were to come.]
[it's only when nothing of the sort happens that cloud looks around himself, allowing only his eyes to roam over their surroundings. he squints back towards sephiroth, a glare forming.]
What's this?