#Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent )

[nazorneku]

WEISS ( @endweapon ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: The situation is tense and weapons are pointed; the party looks into the muzzle of the gun the mysterious man from the coffin keeps primed at them. Only Weiss' gaze is drawn to elsewhere, metallic blues with their hazel touch rest on the lid of the coffin on the ground. The three-headed hound of hell adorning it stood out, perhaps a warning they should've heeded before disrupting this stranger's 'slumber'. In spite of the threat, Weiss steps forward with no weapon drawn, shifting a sharpened set of eyes on their armed new friend (enemy?). "You had us think they buried a man alive, so being the bleeding hearts they are, they checked up on you. That's all. You're not who we're here for. There's bigger nightmares around than the one you were having."

Forcibly awakened anew, he found self surrounded by unfamiliar people, an inspecting gaze still slightly veiled with somnolence trailed over intruders dressed casually, which indicated at apparent lack of allegiance to ShinRa; the first conclusion of outlaws or scavengers nudged itself logically and instantaneously the gloved hand pointed a gun at the others. As an ex-Turk, Vincent was proficient at interpreting other people expressions, especially displayed so vividly, and the apprehension and wariness were etched into the countenance of almost every one of them, save for one man, who opted to step forward and initiate a conversation. The mixture of thoughts and emotions was comprehensible, as a man slumbering in a coffin was not frequent to stumble upon, and the secret he harbored 'bout own identity would alienate him even further.

The gunman would disregard the attempt to coerce him to socialize, if not for just one word that tightly gripped his mind upon escaping the other man's mouth. Nightmares. For the majority the concept of immortality was beyond their grasp; to be frank, he did not revel in own state, deeming it as a curse and retribution for past sins. When the silver-haired extended a gesture of mediation, those words of consolation hit the impenetrable wall of solid indifference. "What do you know 'bout my nightmares?" Albeit curt was his response, there was no inherent enmity towards the other, but immense distaste towards self for various reasons and any empathy tended to be disregarded. ‘We all should pay for our sins.’

The uneasiness between the two was almost palpable, yet the man clad in crimson did not concern self with such triviality, as their conversation compelled to reminisce 'bout days and weeks cloaked in fog with fleeting frames of abrupt and vague memories; nevertheless, one fact remained distinct and comprehensible, spoken with a cold tone, leaking apparent disdain towards the man that once inhabited it. "This mansion was abandoned for many years, you will find no one here." To the exclusion of ghosts of the past, which haunted not the empty and dilapidated building, but the mind of the only living being that still dwelled within. Although could that man still be alive? He once died amidst those halls.

And the circumstances of his survival endangered those around, if it would come to pass for Chaos to quell his will and claim the reins, bringing forth the ultimate destruction of the very life itself. Carmine eyes narrowed at the thought and a scarcely audible exhalation escaped through slightly parted lips, the clawed hand entered the field of his vision, observed by an absorbed and distant glance, the presence of another entity within the gunman would not be disclosed to anyone and events of the past would remain within the walls of that old manor, as knowledge of that 'weapon' would bring only destruction and death, in despite of overwhelming potency the beast possessed. There was no guarantee it would aid once let off the leash...

#q. #endweapon #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #Ⓥ : verse: av ( vincent ) #[ dont think he wont try to shoot you in every universe/au... you are not immune‚ Weiss ] #[ also time for “atrocious vii lightning” icons ] #[ icb i need to wait for my own game to adjust it with my own two hands so my PSD will work with screenshots smh ]

[nazorneku]

*shoots at* "Bullet for my Valentine is what they say today, isn't it? Hahahaha!"

Another year was welcomed with an exhausted sigh from the gunman, when that particular date on the calendar approached, compelling people to scurry around on their search for the ultimate gifts. Ironically, the person in possession of similar to the holiday name was bereft of any appropriate inclination and opted to both disregard the commotion and withdraw further from the attention of the others, lest someone anew would furnish self with an idea to pester him with that nonsense as it chanced prior.

And yet, despite his valiant attempts to distance self and disappear, there was one specific individual, fixated on seeking him out, as if his back was marked by an invisible target, drawing the leader of the Tsviets in. The other's approach set Vincent in a state of alert, accustomed to Weiss' pattern of conduct after numerous months of collaboration, hence he anticipated the attack, which was accompanied by a cacophonous laughter. Almost effortlessly with trained ease the man clad in crimson dodged the bullet so audaciously fired at him, with a precise and swift motion glowed hand slid down and released Cerberus, a unique triple-barreled and triple-cylindered revolver, from the confinements of the holster. No hesitation and no reprieve was afforded to the other man, when three bullets were sent towards the other man in response to his one.

Judged asinine, the remark begat no reaction from the raven-haired, yet if the other appeared so eager to receive the bullet from Valentine later in one month, he would gladly oblige and spare the tumultuous waiting to shoot the man at that very instant.

#endweapon #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ Vincent vc: im too old for this bs ] #[ can they live at least ONE day without drama and shooting each other both actually and metaphorically? ]

[nazorneku]

WEISS ( @endweapon ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “  the sooner you accept what you are,  the sooner you can embrace the strengths that come with it.  ”

The inevitability to encounter that man was accepted with utmost reluctance, as fated or to be more precise cursed to be drawn towards each other by the polar opposites of the weapons hosted inside both were, prisoners of their circumstance, which at the time anew enkindled the topic for their conversation only to further cement their differences on the subject. Vincent scarcely delighted with indulging in discussion of various experiments conducted on him, those were nightmares he wished not to disturb, as the memories evoked nothing but pain and intense sensation of misery and own helplessness, which led him to such state.

'What you are'. Not a who, but a what. A result.

Clawed hand was lifted to meet the crimson gaze, at leisure trailing over its form, as fingers continuously performed a gesture of clenching into a fist, diminishing the numbness that occasionally spread over his limbs due to prolonged inactivity. The person he once was no longer existed, brutally killed and merged with four other essences, which blurred the line between his own existence and that of the others'. If he was no longer human, then obvious it was to wonder who or what he came to be. Extensive philosophical debates 'bout one's true nature beyond doubt would arise if his 'condition' would go public, nevertheless it did not hold any significant value to the gunman. He would endure. In solitude, detachment and silence. And figure out who was he now.

A drastic opposite to the man standing in front, who embraced the power of being a weapon, relished in its advantages and seemed to seek to transcend its limits. Narrowed vivid gaze peaked from under the raven bangs, a habitually devoid of any particular emotion tone noted a conclusion. "Which means, you accepted being nothing more than Hojo's experiment." The gloved hand rested on the holster, awaiting imminent reaction. None of them managed to gain access to each other's psyche during numerous encounters, as probability to maintain civil conversation without resorting to violent confrontation remained stably low.

&. misc prompts       

#q. #endweapon #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ you: *aims this at vince*... me: pls dont aim anything at him he might take that as a challenge and shoot you back ] #[ still also icb you picked the most horrible line imaginable to send ]

[nazorneku]

Congratulations on surviving this far. Don't die until I beat you. File Attachment: TRKVV98.VR

Neither signature nor sign on who the sender was or how they got Vincent's number. Sender Unknown. For all the stoic gunman cared for this could've been meaningless spam intent on wasting the endless time he had available to live. ( Though he sure loved to point out how he never had time for this or that during a confrontation. )

Something more hid behind this ominous message and the file attached, the data-type clearly intended to be for a VR-Simulator for combat.

Now, would Chaos' host dismiss this as meaningless ( today's date a coincidence? ) and delete it or dare find out? The man behind the morbid message cared not. Twirling silver meshes in boredom in the same old WRO cell as usual, he entertained himself either way with the thought of Vincent's grimace when discovering that this was nothing else but the VR-data of his past Turk-self.

/obligatory happy vincent day

🇸‌🇺‌🇨‌🇨‌🇪‌🇸‌🇸‌🇫‌🇺‌🇱‌🇱‌🇾‌ 🇪‌🇻‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇺‌🇱‌🇦‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇲‌🇪‌🇸‌🇸‌🇦‌🇬‌🇪‌🇸‌ : 🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇰‌ 🇫‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌🇪‌🇩‌ || @endweapon

Chest heaved under leather garments with deliberately deep inhalation, carmine optics narrowed with apparent suspicion, yet at the same time were veiled with unadulterated disinterest and obvious shortage in reaction towards received letter. That inconspicuous author of said message was instantaneously determined, scarcely anyone possessed such a high measure of gall to allow self mischievous conduct towards the man clad in crimson; and despite being restrained within current circumstances, that person's aim still remained unfaltering and locked on gunman's back. The gloved hand almost effortlessly closed the flip phone shut, as Vincent proceeded in the direction of the previous destination; nevertheless for a reason beyond his comprehension those words tugged at the edges of his consciousness, compelling to pull the phone out again and scrupulously inspect the message. A previously disregarded attached file was now detected, begetting a distinct frown across his customary apathetic expression, a long exhalation slipped in between slightly parted lips, when the raven-haired male altered the trajectory of own strides and entered the room equipped to simulate VR and possibly deduce the sender's intentions.

The flash of light blinded and the surroundings Vincent opened the eyes to were not recognizable, not at the swift glance at least. Once accustomed to new illumination, his vision sighted an image no longer familiar in the reflection of the glass; a pair of crimson eyes stared back, yet they were not his own. Not anymore. Short raven hair, an ironed to perfection suit, classic cut, and impossibly deep sadness was engraved into every curve of his countenance, which now was the man's own. The hand almost lifted to brush against this alien countenance, to verify the veracity of which he beheld. Astonishment did not prolong as the memory proceeded, yet his mind did not accentuate its events, another routine mission with Veld, something 'bout illegal transport - nothing exceedingly significant to warrant his attention in that direction; thus the vivid gaze trailed after the younger male, almost unblinking. An unbeknownst sensation clawed at his soul, scratched at his mind, bestowing burning and festering wounds unable to be mended. The time forever bereaved for him, the life forever unattainable for him. That suffocating realization newly clasped its claws around his throat, compelling to forcefully end the simulation. The accelerated heartbeat, still deafening, resounded within own mind, yet with sealed sight and measured exhalations he managed to stabilize emotions, the flood of which overflowed mere seconds ago. Once composed enough, the gunman with broad and determined strides walked into the opposite direction of his prior intent and now confinement cells were his destination.

The comment of the guard at the entrance was dismissed with an accustomed to being displayed indifference as Vincent strode past the man towards another, there was no attempt for civil greeting, as a hoarse tone inquired with determination to unveil Weiss' ploy. "How did you manage to obtain that data?" A faint hint of animosity slipped in between those words. The past was buried long ago and irrelevant to the current events, his affiliation to the Turks or who he was as a person no longer possessed any value, yet that person opted to dig up old corpses of people who no longer walked the land. He was never the same, he died back then at the ShinRa manor.

#endweapon #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ sorry for the tremendous delay— been busy with work and then i got sick ] #[ adulting is hard‚ i dont recommend ] #[ ahem... half of this wrote itself and im innocent of any crime ]

[nazorneku]

📜 a cryptic letter ( from vincent )

#strfe #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ but ofc you would send cryptic smh ] #[ is this cryptic enough? 🤧 cause he doesnt rly ask bout Cloud ]

[nazorneku]

💼 a professional email ( for vincent )

#zankokukami #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #Ⓥ : verse: turk ( vincent ) #[ you better be on time or else 🤺 ]

[nazorneku]

TIFA ( @lockhartred ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “whatever happens, i got your back.”

A mutual sensation of comradery, almost forgotten with the passage of time and under the weight of sins that laid heavily upon his shoulders, now surfaced due to the efforts of those particular individuals; bound by a common goal once, yet linked by something invaluable at that time. Carmine optics narrowed at the intrusive thoughts cradled at the back of his mind, a few moments of respite prior to marching towards the epicenter of conflict, an escalating menace threatening the essence of all life. The gunman could not claim that he possessed a solid plan in which way to deal with Omega, nevertheless its presence beckoned another to awake. Chaos had been stirring within, as in the absence of Protomateria there were no shackles to perpetually contain the beast.

The sound of the phone distracted from contemplation, prompting to respond, a frown emerged across his habitually composed image at sonorous voices on the other side; their concern was valued, albeit Vincent lacked the ability to proper display the sentiment. Her words however begat diverse emotion, saturated with bizarre for him notion of worry, which he carried in own speech. "You shouldn't put yourself in danger, Tifa, I'll manage on my own here." His voice dropped in harshness of its tone with the last word, crimson gaze half-lidded anew when the expression of gratitude finally slipped in between his lips. "Still— thank you." For the first time in decades the man was actually looking forward to the future, that would be laid in front of his once the current conflict would be resolved.

&. action-themed prompts         ||          accepting  

#lockhartred #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ despite me holding gun at DOC‚ i rly loved that moment of them getting through with the phone call ] #[ kinda made me moetional ] #Ⓥ : verse: doc ( vincent )

[nazorneku]

MAJIMA GORO ( @zankokukami ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: ❝ what's a man got to do for a lil' bit of fun round here ? ❞ he eyed the other turk, who quite frankly looked like he did not want to be stationed along with majima. ❝ come on, loosen up a lil' will ya ? you bore me. ❞

Notification regarding a new partner for the job emerged in the morning, nevertheless meticulous planning and instructions were not sufficient to prepare him for such a particularly vivid character. With a mere glance Vincent questioned his professionalism and capabilities, ostentatious familiarity did not improve their bond from the very first casually dropped words, begetting a condemning remark. " 'Work' rarely implies 'fun' in our sphere of expertise. If you were looking for one, then you applied to the wrong job." Carmine optics narrowed its gaze at the other male, whilst he contemplated Veld's judgement, how utterly laughable to found self opposing the decision of the superior so adamantly. Their personalities would engage in perpetual conflict and eventually sabotage the operation.

Hands rested across the chest, as the man maintained impenetrable composure that was unceasingly tested every time Majima opened mouth to talk, though another complaint addressing own boredom was vocalized. Despite apparent disinterest in woes of another, words did tug at the strings of his memories, beckoning forth recent conversation; Vincent did not possess an inclination for leisurely activities, opting to hone battle skills advantageous for work than momentary pleasures. "I have not even the slightest idea what you expect from me. Isn't performing the task should be a priority now?" With habitual disapproval in own voice, the raven-haired responded newly, their conversation threatened to transform into quarrel whereas one relished serenity and another flourished in mayhem.

#zankokukami #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #Ⓥ : verse: turk ( vincent ) #[ majima my dude my bro my pal you def asked the wrong man for a party :') ] #[ he gonna file Veld a complaint and request for another partner lmao ]

[nazorneku]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH TIFA ( @lockhartred ) AND VINCENT: She sidles up next to him, a bag of red cinnamon hearts sitting in the palm of her hand as the other digs in and grabs a handful. “Here,” she says and reaches for his hand, the bag—more like a pouch—caught between her fingers, and places the handful of red hearts in the palm of his gloved hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Vincent,” she says with a smile as she notices how the red of the candy hearts stick out with its vibrant color against the black leather of his glove.

Another day verged to its definitive conclusion, bereft of any particular exhilaration it threatened to render into mundane, humdrum existence, by virtue of which his existence would remain stagnant, undisturbed. The gunman did not oppose serenity embracing him, succumbing to the heavy weight of many years he had lived, opting for an uneventful life, unless the specific group of people would deign to intrude upon his solitude anew.

With peculiarity of the festivity Vincent faced before, confused at first due to incomprehensible similarity with own surname, yet eventually it was disregarded as the celebrated sentiment no longer dwelled within confinements of his chest. Albeit the regrets of bygone days found rest along with the man himself, he did not consider the necessity of merging with the current generation, cursed as he was with immortality, though at times he found self yearning for connection nonetheless. As if keen to his inner turmoil, she attempted another approach, involving the raven-haired male into such a frivolous event, yet he did not dismiss the gesture outright, permitting her to grasp the gloved hand to leave the treats.

Carmine optics regarded bizarre shaped confections with apparent lack of enthusiasm, the item did not possess any significance to the man, nevertheless her concern was recognized and valued. Long fingers slightly squeezed the palm with the edible gifts, contemplating, lips parted to utter words of gratitude. "There's no need, but I appreciate the gesture regardless." At that time he lacked means to reciprocate, despite that the action to compensate her effort would be taken in the nearest future.

#lockhartred #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ i totally didnt pass out‚ then sent you Tifa from my dash when i awoke and then passed out again ] #[ being in physical pain is no bueno ] #[ idk why it ended this long— im sorry i rambled a lot ]

[nazorneku]

LUCRECIA  ( @sortilegii​ ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: ' well, ' crystalline laughter emerged from her lips, ' look who seems to be all too dedicated to his work, even on his own birthday! ' lucrecia shook her head, hands wrapped around vincent's arm. ' i am authorizing myself to steal away my own so-called bodyguard for some birthday fun! ' she winked. ' who knows? maybe we will even get a smile from him! ' a smile remained to linger on her countenance. ' we are going to dinner, mister valentine! and i am not taking no for answer. ' || ( you asked birthday yeehaw, take it !!!! )

          Another autumn day was celebrated with abundance of lush vegetation that at leisure adorned itself with more appropriate for the season colors with each passing day, a soothing rustle of the leaves welcomed his unhurried strides during another routine perimeter check, despite being occupied by the work the man was enthralled by the splendor of the gardens’ view in ShinRa manor. Carmine glance basked in the scenery spread in front, so engrossed he was that he failed to register the woman’s approach until her hands enclasped his own in what appeared to be unescapable clutches, fueled by unshakable purpose.

          Lips parted to vocalize an objection, yet words betrayed the dark-haired man and only barely distinguishable sigh slipped through; by the virtue of some cruel fate he never could muster enough will to reject even the most daring and incomprehensible ideas, subjecting self to indulging Lucrecia in her schemes. Brows instinctively furrowed at the mention of him smiling, prompting to recollect innumerable comments from Veld regarding the scandalously infrequent occasions when one could force the straight line of his mouth to curve. Another sigh found its way from the depths of his throat, as eventually he spoke in a tone devoid of any particular emotion. “I do not usually celebrate it, but dinner doesn’t sound so bad.” Albeit opting to follow along the proposition, Vincent possessed limited knowledge ’bout proper celebration as due to his line of work such indulgences were deemed excessive and needless.

          A rather dismal mindset, especially for someone so young and yet he could not help but ponder when exactly it originated - to deprive self of all those small wonders that saturated life and moments of genuine content from spending time in a close circle of friends and family. Mayhap when one was robbed of those, the necessity as well dissipated, leaving the gaping hole amidst the chest she attempted so fervently to fill and he allowed with a pinch of hesitance, as he suppressed wistful glances every day in her presence.

          The disapproving gaze softened, as crimson eyes trailed over the female’s features, his very being subdued to her wishes and took into consideration every request, even if such relations were considered impermissible. One hand was lifted up in attempt to cover her own, as they walked towards the mansion, and yet fingers tightened in a fist and the hand was soon dropped along his body; a moment of weakness, something he did not want to make a habit of. Another job like any other. Another job that had an expiration date. “Nonetheless I still recommend that we do not waste more time than necessary.” In despite of a callous remark, begat by wish to maintain a professional image, the man would not attempt to sabotage or shorten their time, as a desire to extend it, to freeze this singular moment, built a nest within his very soul.

#Ⓥ : INTERACTIONS ( vincent ) #Ⓥ : VERSE: TURK ( vincent )

[nazorneku]

PROMPTO ( @battleshot ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “ go on then, what’s the coolest thing you’ve been able to do with that hand —?” pointing at the prosthetic one. “You must have some party tricks?”

Rather peculiar was to behold one of the royal retainers in the company of a glaive with what seemed to be an idle chatter than a mission of utmost importance, especially now when the future of the realm rested upon young and indecisive shoulders. The raven-haired man leaned nonchalantly against the coldness of the stone wall with a characteristic posture of his, as both hands rested across his heaving chest, and only once the other uttered a bizarre inquiry did the dark eyebrow arched with an expression of displeasure draping akin to a veil over the habitually impassive image. Instinctively the golden gauntlet was lifted, its long fingers imitated the gesture of clenching and unclenching fist, contemplating its owner was, a long sigh slipped in between slightly parted lips, as Vincent finally deigned to provide a reaction. "You do realize it's for combat only?" With a hoarse tone of his voice each word rolled from the tip of his tongue, heavy and judgmental, nonetheless he would entertain the blond with a conversation he so graciously initiated.

With another sigh, he pushed away from the wall, carmine eyes leisurely trailed its regard over the small village they resided in at that time, a safe harbor for those trying to avoid both the imperial army and daemons. Despite the dwindling number of the glaives, who suffered crushing betrayal during peace talks, their presence still remained reassuring to the folks, none could perform in the way they did. The responsibility they still had to shoulder did not unsettle him, but the fickle nature of the prince, whom the gunman did not regard with much respect, unlike his father, king Regis. That man he mourned, they all did. "People, such as I, do not attend festivities to party. And one of your status should treat own position with more seriousness as well." Slightly callous remark, a reminding one, not with malice yet of concern towards the company the other man was in; the duty once assigned could not be forsaken, it enveloped in a particular set of obligations, it weighted down as it should.

#battleshot #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #Ⓥ : verse: xv ( vincent ) #[ i had an epiphany and remembered i had ffxiv verse for Vincent as a kingsglaive ] #[ tbh i have a lot of verses for him ]

[nazorneku]

PROMPTO ( @battleshot ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: “Anyone ever said that you don’t talk very much…?”

A habitual solitary repose amidst wastes of that place, which he disregarded to visit for a prolonged amount of time, was interrupted by a cheerful tune of the familiar voice of one of the associates, more and more people insisted on remaining as the part of his measured and leisurely life; even considering recent events, the gunslinger was not swift to apply immediate alterations to own customs and merge with expanding crowd saturated with companionship and common goal.

A scarcely audible sigh found its way out of his mouth at first, as those words did not evoke any particular emotion, it merely was the way in which that man operated, it was engraved into the very bones. A habit at leisure melded into his essence over the years even prior to decades of confinement. And yet the topic of imposed detachment would never allude him; and eventually from a solid refusal to converse a decision shifted to a vague neutrality. "An idle chatter is not my specialty." In a monotonous tone Vincent responded, the man found self utterly incapable of simple socializing, merely saw no reason of purposelessly wasting time. And when commonly devoid of emotions image was distorted by a frown, the rest of the speech was vocalized. "I do hope you are here not to engage in pointless prattle."

#battleshot #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ ngl this new editor is such a pain in all places where sun dont shine :| ] #[ also couldnt decide on the verse 'cause i made a lot for Vincent and still have a page with them— so it's p vague ] #[ he IS v hard to deal with... cause as you noted he doesnt talk much :' ) im sorry ]

[nazorneku]

TIFA ( @lockhartred​ ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: ❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

          Utterly infrequently the gunman graced the 7th Heaven with own presence, amidst continuous explorations and idle existence with nothing preoccupying his daily life; nevertheless once in a while the man wrapped in vivid red fabric would cross the doorway and nest in a corner, away from inquisitive minds to prevent being coerced into a conversation he wished no part of. The golden claw caressed the glass of wine, a half-lidded glance leisurely trailed over the empty bar, as his mind unintentionally slipped into reminiscence of the bygone days; a corrosive habit to envision ghosts of people both cherished and accursed.

          Familiar female’s voice touched upon his hearing, prompting to divert own attention from indolent contemplation to a nonchalantly dropped inquiry that tipped the scales of his composure anew, nudging the cascade of agonizing memories and images to overflow his mind. Suffocating. With aloofness painted across a pale image, he would mask an insurmountable predicament - beasts clawing at the edges of the soul, haunting his dreams and denying him a semblance of peace. ‘There were not many reasons to smile in my life.’ Almost jumped off the tip of his tongue, almost treacherously spilled the secret assiduously guarded for decades. Albeit obscured grievance, a soft chuckle resonated from the depths of his throat, yet did not betray the thinness of his lips, as they retained an unswerving shape. “I apologize, it’s just the way I am.” What the man could not provide with expression, he compensated with a serene tone of the voice.

           An erroneous impression was constructed not once, ambiguous the man was with own choice of words, implications and correctives however were provided when he saw fit, electing to remain a willing acquaintance than an active participant in events the group of those people had a penchant for engaging in. “Nanaki too. I wonder...” The abruptly interrupted thought did not receive a continuation, as the man adsorbed in recollection of resent missions directed crimson gaze at murky streets behind the window.

&. for the damaged, sentence starters          ||         accepting

#lockhartred #Ⓥ : INTERACTIONS ( vincent ) #[ idk which verse/timeline it could be so i left it vague ]

[nazorneku]

continuation || @chthonicsurge

An utterly laughable circumstance Vincent found self in, bestowed upon him by WRO a duty to "supervise" both brothers to ensure their continuous cooperation and docile conduct. Succumb to a singular mission and one would be entangled within continuous servitude, no matter the organization. Accompanied by an exhalation, the gloved hand closed a book, one of many scattered around the room, indicating that the other man developed a penchant for reading; nevertheless the person in question was absent and the unwilling guard was obliged to follow.

Scarcely audible sigh slipped in between slightly parted lips, when he eventually found Nero nested on the roof, a rather appropriate location, taking into consideration the mechanical wings the other possessed. Rapidly concerned glance landed on the gun, still safely resting in its holster, as the gunman had no intention to utilize it. As own hands rested across his chest and the first words escaped Nero's mouth, an exceedingly unforeseen revelation compelled the carmine gaze to narrow and darken, the savagery of the conditions they were enforced to live in was hardly startling, as he himself was the witness to Hojo's barbarity and lack of regard towards anyone and anything save for own ambitions. A perceptible frown distorted the aloof image for an instant, yet eventually softened as the other proceeded to speak.

As Nero's words touched upon his hearing, as if beckoned, Vincent shifted own regard to the book mentioned, an old tome from father's collection, littered with occasional notes at its margins. A peculiar interest, uncharacteristic for sitting in front of him a vicious man, who committed numerous crimes under the guise of ShinRa Underground group. Yet unlike the man clad in crimson, the other person was not given an option to refuse the servitude, only to embrace it. The experiments, the agony, the darkness were all too familiar, corroding, dehumanizing. Their rage and resentment were oh so ever comprehensible.

Unlike Weiss however, who was also provided with a relative freedom, the Sable did not display hostility yet, both in action and in words, which necessitated a thorough consideration. Mayhap this one did not know any better. Mayhap this one could learn to do better. The enhancements and beasts inside did not define who they were. "Any in particular caught your eye?" Unbeknownst to self a query jumped off the tip of his tongue, now beckoning the other to disclose a personal preference, and to facilitate the exchange Vincent vocalized own. "I'm personally fond of Canis Major." There were various myths and legends surrounding various constellations and stars, he could not claim to be an expert, but this knowledge could be shared.

#q. #chthonicsurge #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ i will be calling this verse as “babysitting Tsviets”‚ 'cause this is the second one i have and Vincent should get paid for this tbh ]

[nazorneku]

NERO ( @chthonicsurge ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: vincent is being watched. this is nothing new. nero has taken to watching the older man from the shadows, studying him. ostensibly this is because he wishes to learn his weaknesses so, should they come to blows again, he will not fall. in reality, the sable simply wishes to understand. the weight of his sins is not something nero is unaware of. how could he be, with every damned soul howling within the depths of his little black soul? but they do not weigh him down. vincent's do - and despite his attempts at isolating himself, connection seems to find him. it's... enviable. enviable in a way nero refuses to acknowledge, as that is the part of himself that acknowledges that one cannot hang their entire (immortal) existence on the shoulders of one tired (mortal) brother. so he watches vincent. and when he feels the need, though he is fully aware the other is the only one who knows when he comes and goes, he makes himself known like a cat seeking attention. like now. absently knocking a cup from the table as he perches on it, expression bored but interest all too clear in those vivid red eyes.

Chest heaved under a measured breathing, as the gunman opted to abandon the waking world for but the briefest of instants, leaning onto the smooth and cold surface of the stone wall. Habitually was devoid of dreams his rest, nonetheless filled with incessantly shifting the images of the past, that even now retained an unrelenting grasp upon the man. The grief possessed a scant concern towards how long ago the incident occurred, its sting was everlasting. And during such moments, engrossed in reminiscence of bygone days, Vincent appeared the most vulnerable, susceptible to influence if one knew where to apply those. Nevertheless, his guard would remain impenetrable, as in was engraved within the Turks to sleep with one eye opened, and thus the presence of another would eventually be detected. Shadows could scarcely conceal the other from the vivid crimson gaze, and he would proceed to pay no heed to Nero despite ceaseless observations and rather bizarre antics. Yet when the whist observation prolonged and the Sable displayed no signs of retreating, the hoarse tone uttered. "I can still sense you." And as if to respond, to verify his presence, the other knocked the empty cup off a table, manifesting in front of Vincent and begetting a discontented expression to spread across the commonly aloof facade.

Incomprehensible was such conduct, recurring demands for attention, akin to a mouse wiggling its tail in front of a cat, akin to a child awaiting for a parent's recognition. Vincent could not deduce what exactly governed that man's mind, though he could not deny the intrigue, hence he would not dismiss Nero's arrival outrightly. "If you have something to say - say it, if not - go away. Leave me to my rest." Albeit the own voice did not obtain a more amicable tone, he was willing to consider the other's company for a valid reason.

#q. #chthonicsurge #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ idk if it meant to be for any specific verse‚ thus i left it vague ] #[ i apologize for the wait— my brain was all over the place‚ both literally and metaphorically ] #[ nolifing in games can do that to you ]

[nazorneku]

REEVE ( @miragerift ) INQUIRED OF VINCENT: ❝ everyone makes mistakes, right? what’s important is that we don’t repeat them. ❞

A long exhalation found its way out of his mouth, accompanied by a scarcely distinct chuckle; no mockery was directed towards Reeve's words, merely a wonderment how such a person managed to maintain working with ShinRa and not lose self, to retain own ideals and beliefs inviolate. "Ever an optimist." Without lifting a crimson gaze at the other man, Vincent proceeded to ponder those words, forgiveness still remained an elusive concept for the gunman, even in despite of recent events. One could not alter how one perceived life for thirty years in just a few days. It would require a considerable amount of effort mixed with patience and time, and the latter the gunman possessed in abundance.

With the passage of time, however, Vincent concluded that the number of his sins increased, varied in both the magnitude of its effects and the amount of people that unbeknownst to them ended up to be involved. Thus it begat a rather comprehensible inquiry with intent to gather the other's opinion and potentially the solution in how to contend with such situation. "It's easy to disregard the sin that affected only your life, but what of those that irreversibly altered the lives of many?" As another sigh slipped in between his lips, so did the images of burning Nibelheim, of crumbling Midgar across his mind. At least Kalm was spared to suffer the similar fate.

&. arcane prompts

#q. #miragerift #Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent ) #[ the range of your muses is literally this meme: i can fix him and i can make him worse ]