passingmod | Threading for Applications

[ note: because Alister has difficulty with speech, be sure to include his inner thoughts so we can get a sense of voice. and tell me if you need anything adjusted! ]

[ The sky is white, blank, empty. It's nothing and yet that nothing seems to satisfy itself with the promise of possibility.

The ground shows one form of that possibility. It's carpeted with green and streaked with a black, oily substance--for the most part too thin to immediately notice, but it's there, and pools in little depressions. The flowers that emerge from those pools are few and rotted, and Aerith worries over one, kneeling and hunched over to touch its petals. ]

[The fourth night in a row, he'd dreamed of this place. And even on the fourth night, it still made no sense.

Was there something he was supposed to be doing? Did his purpose lay in this blank, blurry world? All those times, he found himself alone. And for awhile, it seemed this would again be the case.

It doesn't stop him from moving forward, however, one foot bare and the other welded in place with shards of metal and circuitry. For him, it feels natural. He'd awoken in this state, and that was how he would live. Why should he have questioned it at all? The Vullards were also covered in metal.

But they could all talk.

Its these thoughts that guide him through the sweet-scented field of flowers, carefully avoiding the blackened pools - they smelled bad and probably meant only bad things - but good eye settling on a small, frail form just feet off. Some of the flowers were being consumed by the tar, and though he had not witnessed such a vast bounty of flora on Torren IV, he still felt a similiar connection to something so light and delicate.

Whatever the pools were, she clearly seemed worried about its effects on the only miniscule life here. The cybernetic-Lombax ambles forward to act as a source of comfort, quietly watching, yet remaining by her side.]

Quiet as he is, Aerith senses the feeling of another nearby. And there's something distinctly funny about this one, but not in a threatening way, so for a few moments she fusses over the flower more...gradually, cleaning the tar-like substance away. One down. A bazillion more to go, and it's spreading.

She's...just buying time, until she can figure out how to stop the source. ]

Sorry. Not to ignore you. [ For the moment she turns her attention to him, smiling with just a touch of surprise. ] Hello! You are a bit different. Not a friend of Cait Sith's, are you?

[ Aerith, no. ]

[Cait... Sith? That wasn't one of the Vullards, was it?

She didn't seem like she would know them - her species in itself was something of a mystery. But his stance is open, kind, kneeling down by her side and gently moving to try and banish the tar from the expanding garden with robotic fingers.

It was a shame he couldn't verbally answer her question.

For as long as he'd woken up in the Vullard's settlement, he never knew someone so... vibrant and down-to-earth as this stranger was. And even if it was just a dream, a figment of his own remaining consciousness... something about her made him feel whole again.

So the Lombax answers in his own, mute way - he smiles gently, a pipe in his arm beginning to suction the tar out away from the flowers, possibly clogging up his own circuitry had this been reality. And all the while, that same hand cradles the wounded flora, trying to nudge them back into an upright position.]

[ The fingers might be robotic, but Cait Sith had been all robot, so even if it's strange to see someone like him here in the Lifestream, she's content to just watch for a moment.

Then, he starts-- ]

No, wait-- What are you doing? [ She reaches for his arm, pausing just shy of touching him as she stares wide-eyed at the suction. Can that hurt him? Is it hurting him? What is he? She looks up to his face with an unusually serious expression ] Don't hurt yourself.

[At least one spot was pretty clear by now, the half-Lombax both suctioning the tar and nudging the flora back to life with the same arm. But it's her tone that makes him give pause, still at his task, but no longer moving the arm over the infected area.

Don't hurt himse...?

Nah. He knew that if he malfunctioned, or became 'injured', the Vullards would be nearby to repair any damage. So maybe he wasn't immortal, but it was about the closest he could get.

His free hand, his real hand, moves to gently rest upon her own arm, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. It wouldn't hurt him. The tar itself was doing more damage to the field than it could ever to himself. And it's for that reason he continues on with his task, a look of peace on the withered form despite the weight of the situation.

Almost done.

His good ear pricks at the sound of his own voice in his mind, surprised by the notion of it. After being unable to physically speak for so long, he hadn't recalled what he was supposed to sound like.]

[ The more she sees of him the more she realizes that as unusual of a visitor he is, he's not misplaced. The metal might be cold but that flesh and blood and kindness bring it to life.

Even if...she suspects he might have visited a place like this once before, to need all that metal.

Her fingers return to the task of delicately brushing away the black, but her green eyes keep flitting up to take stock of him. ]

Thank you. Lately, we need all the help we can get. [ She lets out a quiet sigh. ] Another fight for the Planet... I'd kind of hoped we were done.

[She's not a creature he's all too familiar with himself, even with the vague, disjointed memories both this world, and the conscious world could offer him.

But he's alright with that.

Different species, different people, outsiders, Vullards - each was different, and yet the same in their own, personal way. Something deep in the back of his mind, a fragment of his old self, warns him not to be so close. Though it's easy to pack away in the presence of someone who truly, genuinely wanted to be part of a good cause.

Slowly, he releases his grip, sitting back on his knees to watch the tar slowly start to eviscerate. Though it's still spreading like wildfire, and the term fire in itself brings nothing but a haunting memory - something to drive him to help protect this world more.

Scooping up the flower in his robotic hand again, he gives the young lady a questioning gaze.

What were these flowers here for, in a plane of nothingness? Why was she here? Something bad was happening, yes, but none of it could truly add up.]

Hmmmmm, what's that? [ She sees his questioning look, but she can't interpret it into words so easily. ] This fight is for all the lives of the Planet. The ones that are living, and the ones waiting to be reborn.

He's been attacking the hearts of the people...but now, it's spread so much, it's even here.

[ Attacking life energy that had come from flowers. They didn't feel the complex emotions that people did, the hate and resentment, guilt and longing. But the Geostigma had tainted so many, corrupting their spirit energy for Sephiroth's use, that the Lifestream as a whole was starting to show it. Though she tries to keep an even expression, she is getting worried. Very worried. ]

[So there was a reason behind the tar - more than a simple infection of the flora, it was infecting an entire planet.

By the hands of someone seeking to end its life, no less. It strikes him as familiar - burning sky screams of terror blood and laughter - but the memory is too hazy to make out, and he can only make his best guess as to who would do something like that.

And he didn't want to create a clearer memory of the event.

He places a robotic hand on the younger woman's back, gently nudging her away a little, then holds out both hands this time. A white, swirling substance appears in each, twinkling and spiraling like fireflies, before darting off to as many of the flowers as they could reach. At first, they do sppear to be insect-like, latching onto the petals and skittering in place.

Then they melt, rejuvenating the life, and still spreading all across the field.

Turning back to his companion, he takes her hand as well, sparking just a few more to life to heal any damage the tar might have been causing her.

The Lombax tries to meet her eyes, in a gesture of, "Don't worry anymore. I'm here. We'll fix this."]

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