Warnings: Deviousness on all involved except an oblivious Zack
Word count: 266
Prompt: -July 6--- Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud: predatory behaviour – The way that he was so nervous just made it worse
A/N: Had trouble figuring out a plot, not too happy with it, but it's better than the other drafts. Hope you enjoy.
The way that he was so nervous just made it worse. Everytime green eyes would pick out the chocobo-like youth, the Cadet would make the most interesting noise and somehow hide in plain sight; be it behind someone—Strife was rediculously small—or something. Sometimes the youth would assume a stance and seemingly fade into shadows like the Turks did. All it did was make the chase more fun.
Every one of Strife’s defensive behaviours had something within him purring. Why, he wasn’t too sure yet, but to find out, Sephiroth was pretty sure he needed to get into close quarters with the blond.
Making up his mind, perhaps he’d get Zack invovled. The First Class thought that he needed more social interaction.
Plan forming, the General smiled as he left his office.
Cloud looked desperately at Zack as Sephiroth—the General—lounged against the wall, posture screaming, “predator!” and it was everything Cloud could do to not run. “Zack?”
The First smiled. “I have a mission with some Turks. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Seph said he’d take over your sword play while I was gone,” the older youth explained.
Well fuck, Cloud thought when he saw the amusement dance in those deceptively beautiful green eyes. He was well and truly caught. As Zack left and Sephiroth advanced upon him, Cloud finally gave into the voice in his head that had been screaming “run!” at him, knowing, as he heard the deep chuckle behind him and the flap of leather, that it was useless.
He had no idea how right he was.
Title: Voyeuristic Intentions
Word count: 247
Prompt: -July 13--Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Cloud: chocobos – “Zack! I think they’re watching us!”
A/N: Chocobo names are from Ciceqi's 'verses. Go read them if you haven't. If you're interested, the rough draft, which is completely different, will be posted in my journal.
Cloud ardently returned Zack’s heated kisses. Fridays his squad cleaned out the chocobo stables. With nothing to do afterward, he usually hung around and groomed Djarfr and skritched Skadi if she was in a good mood. When Zack had shown up as his squadmates left, the smouldering look in his eyes told him that Djarfr wouldn’t be getting his rub down. Zack had pounced on him as soon as he was sure none of his squadmates would come back and proceeded to ravish him.
He gasped as Zack moved to his neck and his coherent thoughts were scattered to the four winds. “Zack!” Cloud couldn’t help the moan that escaped his mouth. His head hit the back of the empty stall with a hollow thunk. Zack’s hands roamed lower. Cloud moaned, rather loudly; his head thrashing as he tried to hold more sounds at bay.
It was when he froze that Zack’s attention was diverted from his activities. “Cloud?”
“Zack!” Cloud whispered furtively. “I think they’re watching us!”
Purple-grey met sky blue before glancing across the stable corridor. Curious deep blue eyes were paired with a focused green pair; Skadi and Djarfr. Zack couldn’t help but laugh as he rebuckled Cloud’s fatigues. Gently tugging on Cloud’s hand, the First Class SOLDIER led Cloud to a ladder and into the hayloft. “There, now we have some privacy.”
The General found them a few hours later, sleeping in the hayloft of all places, when he returned from exercising Draugr.
Title: Misplaced Assassin
Word count: 416
Prompt: - July 15 --Final Fantasy VII, Vincent: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - Should he check? What if he...no...he should really check
A/N: inspired by the writings of Staci-Diane603 and their story Set Me Up In Slow Motion Playback....it's a very amusing read. A lovely piece of satire if you like that kinda thing.
Vincent was tapping his fingers against his arm under, not that anyone could see his brand of nervous tick; his bloody-scarlet cape successfully hid it from view. He was waiting for Cid to land the Shera so he could get on with this damn mission from Reeve.
Even if I would like to believe in their good intentions, he herd Reeve’s voice repeat in his head, if something does go wrong, you have a better chance at defusing the situation than most.
Vincent sneered at his reflection, red eyes narrowing over the cowl of his cape; the garment effectively hiding the rest of his expression from view. Not that the crew would have gone running in fear or anything—some of his teeth could be classified as fangs by the general populace—but they probably would have freaked nonetheless due to him showing something more than a pokerface.
It was when he had to forcibly stop tapping his foot that he violently pushed himself away from the railing and headed across the bridge in a swirl of red cape.
“I’m ah tell ya again, Vincent,” Cid barked in his rough voice. “Yer guns ain’t going nowhere.”
Vincent paused long enough for his cape to settle around him. From the corner of his red eyes, the ex-Turk examined the pilot.
“I’m just going to check the lock,” he spoke in that voice all Turks did when they had ulterior motives.
Unluckily for Vincent, Cid had had too many dealings with Reno as of late. The pilot’s face looked angry, but it was clear his eyes were full of laughter. “Then ya go do that. Wouldn’a want yer guns ta myst’riously go missing.”
Vincent had the distinct impression he was being humoured.
With a barely audible growl and a dramatic swirl of red cape, Vincent stalked back to Holding where his chest of guns were; his hearing enhanced enough to hear Cid’s chuckles for most of the trip. The chest opened with a soft “click” after a complicated series of combinations were put into it. Red eyes lovingly took in the thirteen beautiful works of art that were his guns; Cerberus being on top in a special case he had custom made for it. The rest were in various cases and wrappings for protection.
“Initiating landing sequence! Please secure yourself for landing!” a much too happy female voice chirped over the intercom.
Vincent snarled and bared his teeth.
…who in Ifrit’s fiendfyre sent an assassin to peace talks?
Title: Just Another Day
Warnings: coarse language, drinking, rough/forceful foreplay
Word count: 496
Prompt: -July 20--- Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Reno: better than it should be - I hate everything about you; Why do I love you?
A/N: Based loosely on the world created by kremesch in The Dance of the Macabre. A very good read if you haven't read it yet. Title is from an Aunt Ange song from the album "Apathia".
Reno scowled as he smoked on Rufus’ balcony. The little fucker had had the audacity to move him into his own suite of rooms after he had hired that other Turk to increase their numbers. Taking a swallow of scotch, the redhead just couldn’t understand why the blond asshole couldn’t put him in another room somewhere else in the Tower.
The prick’s excuse? “If I left you somewhere with no supervision, you’re bound to cause me endless amounts of trouble. Just think of all the paperwork that would cause.”
Reno snarled as he threw back the rest of his scotch and went in search of that two hundred gil bottle he had bought the other day. Taking some leftovers out of the fridge, he nibbled on some rice balls he had made Rufus for lunch the day before, the redhead threw himself unceremoniously onto the black leather couch that Rufus refused to let him bounce on.
…not that he ever bounced on it when said person was gone, mind you.
He supposed that his situation was better than it should be. He could still be under the Plate, doing who knows what with surely not the most trustworthy people running from those he was currently employed among. On another note, the boss stuck his neck out for him even if it looked like he didn’t…even if he got a load of shit over it. Come to think of it, Reno thought as he swilled his drink, the blond prick hardly does fuckall over some of the shit I pull.
The few hours it took Rufus to wind down shooting his gun down at the range, something he did every night, Reno had managed to get himself wound up and thoroughly drunk. Green eyes watched as Rufus meticulously removed his jacket and hung it up, wrinkling his nose when he saw Reno’s haphazardly thrown over the back of a chair this time. He sniffed at Reno’s unkempt look.
“I see you’re as well dressed as always,” Rufus drawled.
“Fuck off,” Reno snarled, baring his teeth. “S’not like ya give a shit when there ain’t anyone ta see!”
“I see you’re in a good mood.”
“For fuck’s sake!”
The lapels of his shirt were grabbed as Rufus violently dragged him off the couch, spilling his drink everywhere, and was shoved up against a wall. His head might have hit a bit too hard, but with all the alcohol saturating his system, it was a wonder he could think yet alone form coherent sentences. Rufus violently brought their mouths together, searing and demanding. Teeth clicked, tongues fought, and Reno found himself clutching the front of Rufus’ suit.
They broke apart, each slightly breathless.
“I hate you,” Reno softly said, foot brushing against the slider glass that had been otherwise occupying his attention moments before.
“I know,” Rufus softly replied.
Reno thought, as he allowed Rufus to kiss him again, why do I love you?
Something he’d never say aloud.
Title: Forever Together
Warnings: Angst and spontaneity
Word count: ~1250
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus and Dark Nation (gen, obviously, I hope): his only real friend - I used to call your name when no one else would come.
Summary: Rufus remembers the good times with Dark Nation after a day gone horribly wrong (It's all thanks to the Science Department, really) and the public showings he has to do this month require him to be at a dog show: just the place he wants to be.
A/N: So I'm an hour or so late, sorry. The monetary system I'm going on is 1.00 USD = 100 gil. I guess even though I like angst, I also like happy endings.
It had been a bad day, one ranked as the lowest of the lows. Nothing had gone right. Two of his appoints had been double-booked, causing them to either be short or rescheduled. One dignitary from someplace on the other Continent hadn’t even bothered to show for his appointment, which ended up being okay since the next one had shown up nearly an hour early thinking she was late. Then the power had gone out on his floor due to some experiment the science department was conducting that hadn’t ended up working. That had taken up the rest of his afternoon with his secretary having to cancel and reschedule those appoints that were wrecked.
To top it off he had to make an appearance at the Midgar Champion Cup; a dog show that had apparently been going on in Midgar for a few years now. A few new breeds were going to be premiered tonight and, for public appearances sake, he couldn’t very well deny attending now despite having had such a shit day.
He had a special box seat with other important officials. The Terriers went by, the Toys—which he really didn’t see the point of. What was the use of a dog that barely reached mid shin in height? Non-Sporting, Herding, Sporting; those dogs were more interesting. Then the Hound group went and the Working dogs.
A few of the new breeds were in the Hound and Working groups. The breeders were, surprisingly, from Midgar and he was somewhat familiar with the names. They had crossed Guard Hounds with local breeds to get a large dog that specialized in protecting family and property—it was apparently very good with chocobos. One breeder who tested their mettle at an up and coming chocobo ranch apparently spoke that four of his dogs fought of a small pack of Vladkoros. It was when one of the last dogs came into the ring that he was entranced.
Dark Nation, Rufus thought to himself, for indeed, the dog looked like his mutated Guard Hound. He was obviously missing the signature whip-like protrusion Guard Hounds sported, but his half-tail, thick neck, green eyes and dark coat were all reminding him of his loyal friend. He had no doubt that that dog would win the best in breed and wasn’t surprised when the judge picked the dog.
The announcer called that tomorrow would be the best in show competition. Rufus, along with everyone else, made his way home.
As Rufus nursed a glass of vodka, the man looked at the framed pictures that were on the end table by the sofa. One was of him and Dark Nation, the other was of the dog; pose of poise and perfection. Ears perked forward, green eyes stared knowingly into the camera. As he took a sip, he seemed to recall that the photographer who had done the shoot hadn’t photographed dogs again.
Dark Nation had always been there, even when no one else could. When the Turks couldn’t be there because of something his father had said or was doing—the President was more important than his heir—or he hadn’t wanted to be around anyone. Being sick, no one was allowed to see him other than his doctors…
Throwing back his drink, the ShinRa president took the photos and looked at them more closely. Dark Nation, a loyal friend, had always known when he was wanted. He had always been there; no sense of decorum or appearance had been necessary. Even when he hadn’t been able to say his name all the way, the dog had come. The dog had been told all his secrets, everything that he couldn’t say to anyone for fear of retribution from his father or someone else; back in those days, ShinRa hadn’t exactly been safe.
He realized that he missed that; the absolute loyalty and love that Dark Nation had bestowed upon him without question. Turks would come and go in all matter of states of health with Dark Nation ignoring them—some covered in blood; only respecting him enough to get up from what he was doing to greet him and see if he was all right. He would lay at his feet as he did paperwork, he got pleasure out of a pat or tickling Reno’s ankles with his neck-whip during briefings and meetings.
Rufus suddenly realized that he missed his Hound more than he thought he had. With things finally settling down after the Crisis, he missed the easy-going nature of Dark Nation, the presence he had in a room. The knowing look he would give him when he tried to hide something. The growl-purr he would make when you rubbed his stomach…
Perhaps he’d get a dog; he had seen some good breeds at the show. Tseng would hate it.
“I still don’ see why ya had ta bring me along, boss,” Reno drawled as he stood behind Rufus’ seat at the show.
“You know a Turk has to be with me at all times when I’m out in public,” Rufus admonished as he watched the goings on about him. “You should be glad that I talked Tseng down to just you; he wanted you to head a team.”
Reno made a face behind his sunglasses.
The announcer started the show and they watched the groups come and go. When the Working Group came out, he heard a soft, “Dark Nation” from Reno. It was true, the dog was pure grace. The dog, ironically named Dark Night, won the group, and was runner up for the Best in Show, getting hedged out by some breed from the Northern Continent. Rufus didn’t like it’s icy-blue stare as he descended down among the handlers to greet them and their dogs, Reno right behind him.
“Your dog moves well,” Rufus said to the handler-breeder.
“President ShinRa!” the woman exclaimed. “Tina Foxglove! It’s an honour!”
“I’m surprised how much he doesn’t look like Guard Hounds,” Rufus carefully replied.
“We know that Guard Hounds were created by ShinRa, and can be pretty feral,” Ms. Foxglove replied, “we try to just breed for their attitude and not their physical characteristics.”
“Is that so?”
“We’ve learned that the ones who develop the Guard’s whip are usually more aggressive than the ones who don’t, like Night here.”
“She’s a beautiful dog,” Rufus replied as he held out his hand. The dog delicately sniffed it before bowing her head to allow him to pet her. Her handler looked a bit surprised before Rufus continued, “where did you get your Guard stock?”
“We caught them in the slums after Meteor,” Ms. Foxglove replied. She began walked back to where she had set up to get ready to clean up. “One of the ones caught was larger than the rest, and seemed more dangerous, than the others; not feral exactly, but like he was waiting for something.”
“Interesting,” Rufus replied as they reached her area. A growl brought Rufus’ attention away from Ms. Foxglove to dark shape with glowing eyes.
“Don’t mind him,” she replied. “He’s only manageable with his sister around. I’d usually have the ones with whips either culled or neutered, but he’s perfectly fine around his sister.”
Rufus looked into the carrier. The light that managed to illuminate the dark shape showed a muzzle over the dog’s face. “Would you like to say hello?” Rufus asked, holding out his hand.
“I wouldn’t recommend that, sir,” Ms. Foxglove replied, but the dog came out of the carrier, hackles half up, neck whip lashing, and half-tail stiff. What had Rufus was the dog’s eyes.
They weren’t the same colour green as Dark Nation’s, but they were green. Some of Hojo’s specimens did escape when Sephiroth attacked and when Meteor destroyed the Tower. The breeder was surprised when the male’s hackles went down and his tail began to wag.
“I’ll pay you double of what his sister is worth if I can walk out of here with him,” Rufus replied as the dog sat placidly by his feet. He thought he heard a sharp intake of breath from Reno, but he didn’t care; this dog was his and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“That would be 320,000 gil,” his breeder breathed. “Are you sure, Mr. President?”
Rufus had already signed the cheque and filled out the amount. “Do I make it out to you or your kennel?”
“My name would be fine,” Ms. Foxglove replied, in shock. With the tearing of the check, she seemed to come back to reality, unlatching the muzzle and hooking a leash onto the collar. She pulled papers out of a case. Rufus gave all the papers to Reno. They watched as the dogs touched noses.
“It was a pleasure,” Rufus said as he left.
They had gotten to the car before Rufus’ curiosity piqued enough to inquire about the dog’s name. Reno flipped through the documents as the driver started the car and abruptly laughed.
“The mongrel’s name is Dark Nation,” Reno replied as he handed the papers to Rufus.
The President looked at them, and sure enough, the Dobherd Hound’s name was Dark Nation.
He watched the dog curl up next to his feet and the neck-whip slowly make its way to Reno’s pant’s line.
Title: Forever Together
Warnings: food and fun..sexual situations and nekkidness
Word count: 667
Prompt: -July31---- Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud/Aeris: sated and satisfied – They didn't all get together often, so they made the most of the time they had.
Summary: Sephiroth finally has a routine down when he manages to get a hint of a day off.
A/N: half an hour late...mreh. I hate college. My cat is cleaning my foot, not that that has any relevance to the story. I based it kinda in ciceqi's mascotverse. And I have made apple walnut crumble caramel things; they are delicious.
They didn’t all get together often, so they made the most of the time they had. On the off chance that they all had a day off, Sephiroth would turn off his PHS and text Zack on a special one he got for days off—if he was honest with himself, it was truly Zack who had shoved the extra phone into his hand and explained its usage. Zack would then call Aeris who had already somehow known that she would need all manner of baked goods for the day, in her uncanny way of knowing too much about everything, and pick up Cloud before the trooper was properly awake. If they were lucky they would have a car, if not, they paired up on their beasts of motorcycles and sped as quickly out of town as they could.
Now, as the sun set over the plains, the remains of their picnic and apple walnut caramel crumble thing pie still sitting on their picnic blanket, Sephiroth couldn’t be happier. The blond sleeping in his lap probably had something to do with his contentment. Cloud had had a rough day the day before—the tail-end of their physical tests for the spring—so he was rather exhausted, but had managed to have a good time.
Sephiroth scowled at Zack’s happy shout, Cloud murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “flaming asstard” but Sephiroth couldn’t be sure before the trooper lifted himself off the General’s lap; not awake enough to realize where he’d been sleeping or else a pretty blush would have decorated his cheeks.
“What is it Zackary?” Sephiroth inquired.
Zack made a face at the use of his full name, but it quickly dulled as his excitement came back full force. “Come see what Aeris found!” And like a puppy, he bounded back down the hill from whence he came.
Curious, Cloud looked at Sephiroth before carefully getting to his feet and following Zack. Sighing, the silver-haired SOLDIER followed after them. He stopped dead as he saw Cloud jump into a large pool of water.
As he took in the sight, he saw three piles of clothes, and as the evening sun set to twilight, Aeris breached the surface of the water catching the last few rays of the sun; turning her hair from golden brown to burnished, bloody red before the sun faded away behind the mountains.
“C’mon Seph!” Zack encouraged. “You gotta be hot from sitting in your leathers all day in this heat.”
Sephiroth did admit there was some truth in that statement.
“It’s called skinny dipping,” Aeris informed him. “It’s when you go swimming in your birthday suit. Come on in! The water’s really warm!”
He watched as Cloud nodded, agreeing with her. Sephiroth carefully examined each face, full of trust and hope that he’d join them. There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with this activity if they were so comfortable doing it, right?
And with that logic, the General carefully took off his leather coat, having forgone the shoulder pouldrons today, carefully folding it before unbuckling his boots and pulling those off. Then his leather pants slid off slim hips to reveal all of him in his pale glory as the moon crested the mountains in the east, making him look even more pale and ethereal than he already was. Ignoring the small gasp he heard, foregoing Cloud and Zack’s method, Sephiroth carefully waded into the pool.
Indeed, it was quite warm.
“The temperature is surprisingly warm,” Sephiroth spoke as his long hair floated about the surface of the water like captured moonlight.
Cloud had swam next to Aeris, both had dark, heated looks about their countenances. Zack, however, looked downright predatory as he advanced upon his person. “Have you ever played Choose A Pair?”
No he hadn’t, and he told Zack so. The First’s eyes darkened and dilated, while Aeris made some kind of squeaking noise.
Perhaps his evening was going to be more productive than he had anticipated.
Rating: M...very M
Warnings: sex, kissing, foreplay...think that's it.
Word count: 583
Prompt:- Final Fantasy VII, Reno/Cloud: sex in an abandoned building - It left a sour taste in his mouth
Summary: After a mission to an industrial city for pest control(read: drug dealer's getting a little too comfortable) on Reno's part, and a large delivery and monster extermination on Cloud's, they, amazingly enough, run into each other. With one high on adrenaline and the other with a slight case of fighter's high, nothing good can come of their meeting...or can it?
A/N: Procrastinating. Oh, and there's some explicit sexual encounters in here; if the prompt didn't already give that away.
The fact that anything could be growing on the various surfaces inside the building left a sour taste in his mouth; not that it would truly affect him and his altered biology, but some things that you were raised to think about were always forefront in the mind.
The fact that Reno had just taken out a drug lab wasn’t on his mind.
The fact that the building had been abandoned for about as long as he’d been alive wasn’t on his mind.
The fact that the beams were a mixture of wood and steel and smelled quite interesting wasn’t on his mind.
The redhead with a wicked tongue and a hot mouth around his cock had his mind drunk on pleasure.
Cloud moaned and swore as Reno’s teeth nibbled on his head.
“Not yet,” Reno replied, voice rough with lust as he released Cloud’s erection. The blonde bit back on a whimper as the wonderful heat left, but considered it worthwhile as that hot, talented mouth sought his out. He gasped as hot hands found the zipper to his sweater vest and opened it to play with his nipples. Hands ran up his chest and down his shoulders, divesting Cloud of his top as tongues battled for dominance.
The rough cement felt good on Cloud’s heated skin, adding a sharp contrast to his elevated temperature.
“Ramuh, you’re a fucking fernace,” Reno breathed, fishing through his suite jacket as he kissed down Cloud’s neck to his shoulder.
“SOLDIERs all had elevated body temperatures,” Cloud gasped out as Reno found a particularly sensitive area near his shoulder. Reno smirked as Cloud gasped again when his kiss turned a little more vicious; teeth marks evident in the other man’s skin. Cloud gasped again as Reno’s lube covered hands prompted his entrance. He expected Cloud’s knee-jerk defensive action of flipping their positions—he’d probably never submit to anything willingly after Hojo—but Reno was prepared and, as his back viciously made contact with the cement, he used his momentum to flip them back, shoving his fingers into Cloud and stroking his prostate. Hard.
The blond’s hoarse shout echoed in the building. It didn’t take long after that before Reno was fucking Cloud into the wall; both being too hot and stressed from their respective jobs that had brought them out of Edge and Midgar to this dying, industrial town. When they both came in echoing shouts of pleasure, they paused to catch their breath before disentangling themselves from each other and starting to find their clothes.
“How the hell did you throw my shirt over here?” Cloud asked as he walked halfway across the room to find his sweater vest in a pool of…something.
That something glowed.
Reno came over when Cloud was still half naked and staring at his shirt on the floor, lighting up a clove as he went. “Why ya ain’t wearin’ you’re shirt yet? “ the Turk ask as he inhaled a lungful of the spicy smoke.
“What kind of drugs did you say this syndicate was making?” Cloud inquired.
“Didn’t,” Reno succinctly replied. “Why?” Cloud just pointed and Reno saw the glowing, sludgy puddle. “Dude! It’s, like, fucking glowing!” Reno crowed. “That’s kinda cool.” He took a hit of his clove as he glanced at Cloud who looked distinctly unamused.
Reno just shrugged. “Well, it ain’t my shirt so why should I care?”
Cloud gave an exasperated sigh. He was never going to have a tryst in an abandoned building again.
Warnings: angst and suffering?
Word count: 434
Prompt: -July 13--Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Cloud: chocobos – “Zack! I think they’re watching us!”
A/N: Rough draft of "Voyeur". The other version can be found here. The rest of my drabble prompts can be found here.
Zack looked worriedly at Cloud as the Cadet stumbled into camp behind him. The mission had been dubbed Low Risk therefore Zack had been assigned two Cadets to take along with him. One had been so quickly dispatched he hadn’t had time to scream. Cloud had gotten raked across his back as he pushed Zack out of the way; a swipe that surely would have taken off his head. He had dispatched the two juvenile dragons with a little effort, but—according to Cloud—they shouldn’t have even been in the area, being the northern species that they were.
Zack was just glad that they had scouted on foot and left the chocobos to guard camp. At least they had a quick trip back to Base Camp where Reno was waiting for them.
“Dude, Zack!” Cloud whispered, gesturing drunkenly. Zack paused in stowing their gear to tend to the blond Cadet. The elixir they allowed Cadets to have not doing much to fight the poison in his system. Cloud was leaning drunkenly against a tree.
“What’s up, Spike?”
“Zack! I think they’re watching us!”
Zack spread his senses out as far as they’d go, but only felt himself, the chocobos and the natural wildlife in the area. “Who’s watching us?”
Cloud turned overbright, serious eyes on him. “They are.”
Most helpful, that answer, Zack thought wryly. “Who, Spike?”
“Them!” Cloud furtively whispered, jerking his head towards the right….
…where the chocobos were.
Turning his head, he noticed that the great white hen that was his was eyeing them but studiously pretending not to while the overactive yellow that everyone unofficially had dubbed Cloud’s was fluffing his feathers in an overabundance of energy, sky-blue eyes glancing their direction every now and then before a sharp peck from his mount had the younger bird preening his feathers instead.
“They’re just being chocobos, Cloud,” Zack assured him.
Cloud gave him a look that obviously said he didn’t believe him. Zack sighed. If Cloud wasn’t so obviously suffering from some side effect of the claw wounds—poison being the most probable—then he’d reassure him in a different way. But that was out of the question. After packing up their gear it took Zack a good half hour they didn’t have to convince Cloud that the chocobos weren’t out to get him and were safe to ride, before they were en rout to Reno. He didn’t know how much Cloud would remember, but he would have fun reminding him.