Hello all. I own nothing besides my 'mad writing skillz' as my cousin so... Intelligently put it, and this story idea.
He'd gone insane from his years of seclusion in the once grand mansion that had belong to a once great man . . . The mind numbing loneliness that ate away at him, nothing more than a small, malfunctioning a mechanical cat to keep him company, only blurting out generic Irish catch phrases, or snuggling closer to the man who hadn't said anything other than
In over fifty years, although not aging a day.
Whimpering, pathetic sounds filling the insane ward that he'd been admitted to so many years ago, Kalm's beautiful white hospital walls a prison to him, had long been since he'd taken him away from where he had been told to wait for his lover . . .
There, the eyes didn't watch him. Here, they were ever alert, always focussed on him and never wavering. Sad eyes, curious eyes, sympathetic eyes, disgusted eyes . . . All peering at him, always there, never gone.
Galian didn't even talk anymore... Chaos wasn't there to speak, either..
It was sosososo silent.
And Reeve hadn't come to pick Cait Sith up yet.
Embracing the toy which smelt of the age old faux fur, leaking battery fluid, the salty tears that had coated his head when he had fought against the men and women who went to grab him and take him to this frightening place, and the faint smell of him..
The owners of the eyes were talking now, making him cuddle
((T-t-t-top of the m-m-morning!))
closer to his chest, huddling up in a ball and trying to ignore them as their humming voices became louder and louder, their ugly faces against the windows seeming to sneer at him, wondering how to take his Cait away from him.
((Immortal. Can you imagine how horrible that must be? Poor thing probably don't even know...))
The eyes were shocked, then quickly narrowed, stepping away from the window and heading off to speak about the other poor souls here. Souls that may also have items they love, items they might loose...
But Cait wasn't an item.. Cait was Reeve.
Whimpering, backing away to the corner stacked with pillows that served as his sleeping quarters, not trusting the bed because it smelt of them, and not Reeve... The blanket resting over the pillows carrying his lover's scent.
...They would be back to take the blanket and Cait away again... Hojo would be there to inject him with that potion that knocked him out to do only gods knows what to him.
Shivering, reigning in the tears because Reeve told him not to cry. Never to cry, waiting for the man to walk in through the doors, press a kiss to his forehead and tell him that it was okay.
((It's too bad, you know.. That man, Vincent Valentine. The one in Two-Twenty-Nine? He was married to the WRO Commissioner, you know, that Reeve Tuesti guy? He died in an accident on his way home.. The poor man hadn't been sane when he'd left, either. Probably trapped in that day.. ))