FFVII: Gaian Hymn

J.1.1

The college campus at night has the eerie look of a haunted ruin.

With his sword over his back and Fenrir parked outside the Cosmology Building, Cloud had picked his way into the building with care, not liking the shadows that skitter and change as the trees move outside, the floodlights and amber streetlights creating an odd contrast of light and shadow in the building. He'd found the lab room no problem, taking the service stairs, the long hallways creepy in the midnight hours with no students or professors to crowd the halls with their chatter and scientific theories.

Cloud doesn't like the look of the lab even through its nothing like his memories of Hojo's Shinra facility. In the dark, lights make strange, ghostly glimmers on the glassware, beakers winking against the slick black of the lab benchtops. These spaces have an eerie stillness to them, an emptiness that feels voidlike without students to fill the spaces. Apparati and hoses spill from shelves like twisted intestines, making his skin crawl.

In the gloom, he finds his way to the lab bench Reeve specified. It's neat, all the beakers and flasks stacked tidily to one side to give the person room to sprawl their notes. He can imagine them here, spreading out their notes the way they sling ingredients across the kitchen when they bake, their multi-colored pens like cupcake sprinkles. There is an ache under his left eye that he dimisihes as a lack of sleep as he rifles through the lab drawers, searching for any clue as to what they were working on.

Frustrated at the lack of clues, Cloud slams the drawer closed a little harder than intended, glassware tinkling softly in protest. He doesn't understand the study of memetics or how it links to Cosmology and scientific experiments, only that it generates a crawling feeling down his spine. He may not have ever studied the way students at this college do, but there is an intuition he has about this that is telling him that even if most of these students study theory, there will always be one who studies application.

Such is the way experiments start, is it not?

There is a clatter somewhere in the hall.

Cloud whips around, hand already on the hilt of his sword. This abandoned building with all its apparatti and vents already has him on edge with its haunted laboratory vibe. He stays still, listening intently but the sound doesn't come again. Either it was a small rodent or else the person who made the noise did it on accident and is now moving with more care.

He knows it could be many other things, but a lifetime of vigilance in the face of unknown threats has him moving into the hall with his hand on the hilt of his sword. He scans right and sees nothing.

But when he turns his head to the left, there is a silhouette in the shadows.

His heart leaps into his throat at the sight. Someone in dark clothing is standing in the shadows, only revealed by the muted outdoor cloofdlights peaking in the high hallway windows. They are illogically still, as if there is something about them that should be stirring like a phantom in the shadows. Their back is to him and they haven't seemed to have noticed him yet, their face looking towards one of the doors on the right side of the hall. Their skin is milky in the scant light and Cloud sucks in a harsh breath when their head turns, revealing long silver hair.

Despite all the years and all the victories, he still freezes.

His brain has cataloged the smaller stature, the fact that the silver tresses are in thick braids and that there is no sweeping black trench coat but his gut reaction tells him otherwise. He knows, rationally that this is not him, won't be him, but his memories are all jumbled up inside his head and for a long moment, all he can see is Sephiroth at the end of the long hallway.

His gasp must draw their attention because they turn slightly to look over their shoulder with the cold grace of a predator. She turns, her profile showing sleek, toned muscles and thick silver braids that swing about her hips. Even though its dark, he swears she meets his eyes and a chill goes through him at the distinctive Mako gloa her blue-green eyes give off.

They stare each other down in the darkness, something like a premonition of violence between the two of them. Is this one of the new Renegades? She has the definitive silver hair and Mako eyes of the Renegades he has met so far but some instinct is warning him that this is something far more dangerous.

He hefts his sword into a defensive stance. Her eyes track the movement, the rest of her completely still. She doesn't move to attack, doesn't even seem to have a weapon on her but he won't be caught flatfooted. These Renegades might not have the strength of SOLDIERS, but they're wuicker and more volatile. Underestimating her would be a grave error.

She continues to stare at him, those Mako eyes luminous in the dark. He can imagine those cat pupils expanding in the darkness to take him in. She's a scary kind of still, watching with a patience that reminds him of a coeurl, something feline about the lines of her body even though she doesn't seem ready to spring.

Finally, he can weather this standoff no longer. "Who are you?" he asks, his voice echoing in the tiled space.

She cocks her head. It's a stragnely inquisitive gesture that seems to ask him the same question in return. She seems to be considering how to answer, eyes narrowing in the gloom. Then she seems to shudder on the spot, a vibration passing through her body in one long ripple.

Then she turns, and flees.

He's not ready for her flight and so it takes him a second too long to throw his sword over his shoulder and sprint after her.

She's no more than a flicker in the dark halls, almost a wraith. Those thick silver braids dancing about her hips, the only thing about her that catches and holds the light. She moves preternaturally quickly, but Cloud himself is an ex-SOLDIER, a titled earned if not his in the past. He doesn't bother wasting breath telling her to stop, just pours on more speed, determined to catch her.

But when he does... wel,, he'll deal with that when it happens.

She looks back at him only once and he would swear there's a kind of hungry light in those incandescent eyes. Thrill of the chase? He can't say he's immune to it himself.

He starts to have the sneaking suspicion that she's here for a purpose because she's clearly memorized maps of the halls. She's unerring in her choice of direction; its not a random flight. After three turns, he can already tell she's heading for an exit. Ahead of him, she throws open a stairwell door so hard it slams into the wall, hinges bent. She stares at it for a beat, legs still moving as if in surprise before plunging down the stairs.

She's fast but he has longer legs. Going two steps at a time down is trickier than up but he soon adjusts his gait. Despite her speed, he's gaining and he can feel the spike of adrenaline in his veins as her whipping braids get closer and closer. He hasn't felt this kind of rush in a long time and despite a thin prick of guilt, he finds himself actually enjoying the chase.

Clearly she is as well, because shse stops suddenly and looks up. Their eyes lock, Mako on Mako and she gives him an utterly wicked grin.

Then she vaults the railing and drops the last three floors to the ground.

Logic dictates he should keep going, but the human reaction to shock has him skidding to a halt and looking over the edge of the railing just in time to see her land in a deep crouch. She flicks her braids over her shoulders and gives him a little salute before sprinting to the door.

Cloud curses under his breath, then hauls himself over the rail, following her lead. Even out of practice, its hardly any effort at all to make the jump. The door is already slamming closed as he straightens out of a crouch. His worries are confirmed when he bursts out onto the college quad.

She's nowhere in sight, the soft amber glow of the lamps illuminating the quiet buidligns but showing no trace of silver in the gloom.