Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.
Experimental fic. If you have an opinion, say it now so I don't make an ass out of myself later on. Thanx.
Ever have one of those days where you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you should have stayed home, hiding in the box in the closet and wrapped in a doona, regardless of the stifling heat?
Well, I'm having one of those days and it just happens to be shaping up to be one of those months. Possibly even one of those years.
First off; train wreck. Took me hours to die. Yeah, not fun.
Second; do not get that 4'7ft Grim Reaper pissed at you. He knows how to hold a grudge.
Three; if given the chance to be reborn, read the fine print.
Me; I just signed the dotted line without really reading the contract, let alone the fine print.
I don't really remember much from those early days, mostly it was just a motley of confusion, light, noise and being covered in a wetness that dried into uncomfortable flakes on my skin. I remember my left hand entwined in Sanguine's ruff as we ran, half-blind, down a hall he later told me was in the lab.
There was gunfire and screaming and the high shrieks of the experiments as they were killed in the crossfire. We had run out a large door that had been reduced to crumpled metal when my bleary new eyes had caught sight of a blur of red and black coming from the left, though when I turned to look at it, the blur stumbled to a stop with a surprised exclamation.
Then Sanguine jumped and we were falling a long way down into a river.
At that point, I either passed out or was knocked unconscious, because when I woke up, I was in some kind of sandy cave, curled up and shivering into Sanguine's damp black and crimson pelt while it poured outside.
In those early days I was heavily dependent on Sanguine for everything. Maybe it was because I was young and helpless and dependant on him that he stayed and identified me as Pack.
Sanguine, as you may have guessed, wasn't, isn't and never will be, human. He's a demon dog/flame-lion hybrid; born and bred in a laboratory, just like me. He stands about 5ft at the shoulder and looks like a big black dog with a short pelt on most of his body but a lion-like mane around his neck, shoulders and chest, and long luxurious fur on his tail that sweeps like a duster. As I said, his pelt is black, but his feet, ears and tail are dipped crimson. There are also several tattoo-like crimson markings in his fur that he says had always been there. Almost comically, his crimson ears are huge and almost rabbit-like, but his completely red eyes are terrifying if he's snarling and pissed off.
Sanguine, I learnt early on, was not sanguine or any derivative thereof. While he takes after his demon-dog heritage physically, mentally he takes after the fire-lion part of himself. He is highly intelligent, highly protective and, quite frankly, highly morbid. I have yet to meet a more morbidly depressing person, let alone dog.
Now I made some comments about a lab earlier, and you've probably already guessed, but I am an illicit genetic replica of Sephiroth bred from a donor mother for a rebel faction, (so I'm not a complete clone) chemically comatosed at birth and raised in a tube of mako, experimented on with who knows or cares what, then I was released from my tube by my scientist 'mother' when Shinra sent SOLDIER in to put down the rebellious faction.
My 'mother', a woman called Levity Lyrus, had begged Sanguine to get me out safely. I don't know why she did so, and it is a mystery to me as to why he actually agreed to it, but he did. She had had a pack prepared for me with money, food, clothes and other things for me, had shoved them into my uncomprehending grasp and turned to hold off the SOLDIERs for as long as she could to give us a chance at escape.
I suppose I should feel something for her death and sacrifice, but I never knew her and barely remember the blur of her form, and by the point I was lucid enough to comprehend what was happening, I was struggling to survive, even with Sanguine's help.
I think of her sometimes and try to imagine what she was like; what could have triggered in an apparently ice-cold scientist (according to Sanguine) such a selfless act of maternal instincts. I hope that is enough, but what else can I give her?
So I, a twenty-one-year-old woman who died in a train accident in the 'real' world, am now living in the Mythril Caves East of Junon as a genetically enhanced, super-replica, sixteen-year-old, unspeakably pretty, red-eyed, silver-haired BOY who looks like a mix between a prettier version of Riku from Kingdom Hearts II and Rei Ayanami from Neon-Genesis Evangeleon...
Once again, I remind all to READ THE FREAKING FINE PRINT!!!
I can tell you now that it was incredibly awkward and embarrassing when I realised what was wrong with my movements. During my brief period of freaking out and babbling incoherently at Sanguine, he sat me down and explained that I had probably died without realising it, travelled through the Lifestream and 'Ghosted' an impression of myself into the empty mind of the replica via mako. I didn't correct him since I happened to faint at that point.
So here I am, running around in an outfit similar to the plug suits from Evangeleon, only black and green, with a pretty nifty cuffed trench coat, a giant, pessimistic demon dog, a back-pack filled with gil, materia, various other miscellaneous items, a butterfly dagger, a trident dagger, a 'swordbreaker' dagger and what I could swear was Angel Sanctuary's Alexiel's crystal sword thingy.
I'm under the impression that my 'mother' collected small pointy weapons as a hobby, so-
I looked up from my position on my bed of rags, skins and grasses to where Sanguine had just entered the den in the Mythril Caves, idly closing my notebook.
"What is it, Sangy?" I asked, idly tugging a lock of blue-tinted silver hair.
He licked his nose like dogs tend to and paced into the den. "Some Humans have entered the caves. Some are SOLDIERs, but some are in dark blue coat and pants outfits with a black leash around their necks."
I sat up abruptly. "That combination is called a 'suit' and the leash is called a 'tie'. And the only Shinra blue suits I know of are the Turks. They do the dirty work for Shinra like kidnapping, assassinations, blackmail and such. We will likely become specimens for That Fucker (aka Hojo) to poke at if we stay, so we should probably vacate the premises until they lose interest."
Saying thus, I bounced to my feet, stuffed my stuff into my pack, bundled up my pelts and moseyed off to the nearest exit facing towards the forest to the west of the mines, Sanguine pacing along ahead of me whilst I absently pondered something that had been bugging me for a few days...
...Seriously though, is it really necessary, let alone practical, to have my hair down to mid-thigh? I mean, I know it looks cool and all, but it's heavy and I don't have anything to tie it off with. And it sheds like a bitch.
So, on my little trip out of the caves, bypassing most monsters since they're scared shitless of Sangy, I pondered the question; To hack off or not to hack off...
If I'd known the crap that book would put me through later, I would have burnt the fucker rather than just accidently leave it lying under the grasses of my bed.
Amarant is the name my character gave him/herself in the story He/she still thinks it is a game and reality hasn't quite hit yet.
'Amarant' is an archiac form of Amaranth. It is a group of weeds with healing properties which flower all year long and the flowers last a while once picked. They have been nicknamed the 'Never Fading' for this reason.
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Thank you. Come again.