The man in black fled across the desert...

018.

secondhand_sky — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 15:22:23 GMT

...well. That's just peachy.

[Private to Citrine//Unhackable]

There's something I need to ask you.

[Private to Self//Unhackable]

Fourteen days. He's the only one of my-- of us, left. I...

...no.

((ooc: yeah guess who got flooded out))

017. Voice

secondhand_sky — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 17:45:34 GMT

[Clicking on to the sound of approaching footsteps, and someone's half-audible conversation.]

--understand, it isn't something we can rule out just yet, but...

[Pause.]

Reeve? Your connection... is...

...

...

[And that click! would be the sound of someone snapping their suddenly useless cell shut upon recognizing their surroundings, and stalking angrily towards the terminal.]

[Clear and irritated.]

Purgatorium. I do not have time for this.

016.

secondhand_sky — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 00:03:06 GMT

Aaron, if you can see this, please answer me.

You too, Kadaj.

These things...

015.

secondhand_sky — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 20:46:24 GMT

...from different times. I didn't even consider it.

If he could be here, then, even someone like...

...

~~No. Someone like him wouldn't be brought here in the first place.~~

Kadaj wasn't here again today.

[Private to Aaron//Unhackable]

We need to talk.

014.

secondhand_sky — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 02:59:45 GMT

...!

That's--

...

[Private to Val//Unhackable]

Where is he.

013.

secondhand_sky — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 07:27:10 GMT

~~Claire.~~

...

[Private to Aaron//Unhackable]

I. ~~Um.~~

~~alkjfs~~

...hey.

[Private to Val//Unhackable]

Don't argue. Go to [this address.] Terribly important.

Kadaj, where the hell are you?

012.

secondhand_sky — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 20:55:24 GMT

...

...

ooc

secondhand_sky — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 05:18:04 GMT

*STILL HIATUS*

011.

secondhand_sky — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 05:40:05 GMT

Not now.

Not now.

I'm not I'm not I'm not

...

010. - voice

secondhand_sky — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 23:44:35 GMT

[Muttering.]

...doesn't he know there won't be anything left at this rate. How am I supposed to...

...

It looks like I'll need a job too.

Genera--

...ex-soldier for hire.

009.

secondhand_sky — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 05:24:09 GMT

[Private to Allelujah//Unhackable]

...I have to ask you something.

008.

secondhand_sky — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 21:20:44 GMT

...I've never seen anyone demand a ransom of scones.

First time for everything.

[Private to Self//Unhackable]

...it isn't true. Simple contact couln't possibly...

Dammit.

[Private to Vincent//Unhackable]

...

Vincent. If you can see this, please answer me.

[Private to Val//Unhackable]

We need to speak.

...also who is this guy calling himself Valentine?

007 - accidental voice post

secondhand_sky — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 19:59:20 GMT

[The recording clicks on mid-conversation and a lot of shuffling noises, indicating movement and at least two people present. Cloud is nearer the terminal and breathing raggedly, his voice shaky. Any replies made to him are too far away to make out words.]

--can't, that wasn't me, I didn't--

[Indistinct reply, and more shuffling. Cloud snarls suddenly.]

I won't let her. And you aren't--

[He stops for no apparent reason, breath catching sharply as if in pain or surprise, and before the connection times out there is only more rustling noises, one very muted voice that coincides with another hitch in breathing, and then the unmistakable clank of metal aka Cloud's sword harness hitting the floor.]

[Transmission end.]

006.

secondhand_sky — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 21:37:39 GMT

...that's all I can do here.

Heading back out.

...

Still no sign of either of them. I.

...going.

((OOC: He's been out helping with whatever he can, moving rubble, first aid, helping put out fires, whatever. Anyone can feel free to say they saw him or ran into him being his fail hero self.))

005.

secondhand_sky — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 20:07:52 GMT

...

[Private//Hard to Hack]

...what the hell was she doing with this. Did she even know it was ...she must have. She's a Turk. She knows better than to--

...

Unless it was for Kadaj.

Goddamn Shinra.

004.

secondhand_sky — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 00:09:01 GMT

...

...

003.

secondhand_sky — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 06:51:39 GMT

...nevermind.

002.

secondhand_sky — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 17:45:08 GMT

Still no luck, but he must be here somewhere. I'd have to stay here anyway. It's my responsibility.

Tifa's gonna kill me.

Is there someone here named Tyve?

001.

secondhand_sky — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 06:44:46 GMT

...

It definitely isn't Midgar.

start entry

secondhand_sky — Tue, 17 Jul 2007 20:18:03 GMT

Location: Tethys
Rating: S for Surl. or for Spam.
Warnings: zilch

It was dark when he woke, but that was nothing unusual. A hunter went to where his quarry was, and a creature of darkness would hardly be found in the places of light. He kept himself absolutely still, however, just to be sure that this wasn’t a bad time to regain consciousness – about to be skewered, perhaps, or in the company of other unnatural things that crept and skittered in the black and took victims where they could. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up in unfriendly company, lured to him by the scent of sun and shadow.

Sun for the life his Other lived, shadow for his own. Or maybe it was Sephiroth’s taint, clinging and pervasive after so long spent chasing him.

Strife didn’t know. Strife didn’t particularly care. His senses had registered nothing, which was good, not even the telltale pressure of Sephiroth’s roiling aura, which was also good but not what he had hoped. Sephiroth was not here. The ties between them pulled like gravity and both knew when the other was close, but Sephiroth had been and gone. Escaped again.

Dammitall.

This was almost routine, now. After a moment more of waiting he rolled smoothly to his feet, calling the Buster Sword to his hand for reaffirmation of his own existence, and raised his head into the still air like a coon hound scenting a trail.

Cold. The trace was there but it was dead and flat. Cold like a Nibelheim winter, his mind supplied, and he scowled briefly at the errant thought. Someone who had never been to Nibelheim, he reminded himself, was not in a position to use that kind of phrase.

Only then did he actually take stock of his surroundings, mako blue eyes cutting easily through the gloom. Not that they were really mako eyes. It was Cloud who’d undergone the experiments, not Strife, but Strife was a shadow cast in the image of his maker, and came with all kinds of assorted baggage inherited from that maker. The eyes were helpful. The faint undercurrents of nervousness and claustrophobia, born from Cloud’s years in a lab, were not.

This place resembled the Shinra labs that Cloud-not-Strife recalled only in the fact that everything was metal. Other than that, featureless, and no equipment that would have been in a lab. Metal walls, metal floors, metal ceiling, all uniform and featureless. No one other than himself present, and a familiar low steady hum that told him this wasn’t a building. A ship. No restraints or obvious confinements except the door, which might as well not have been there.

Not a slaver or a pirate ship, then, and probably not a warship, unless they were now in the habit of stowing unknown persons in relatively comfortable and unsecure cabins. Still, someone had been doing something they shouldn’t have; the transport of passengers between worlds during wartime was heavily regulated and usually illegal without eight different kinds of permission forms and licenses. Strife, conveniently, only carried one license to travel, and that was the sure fact that keeping him in one place when he didn’t wish to be there was damaging to the structural integrity of cells, the buildings they were in, and sometimes the offending city itself.

Not that he had any desire to repeat that performance. Wrecking city blocks was tiring and usually unhelpful to his quest and more something that Sephiroth would do on a whim. Strife didn’t like to think how much like Sephiroth he had become in order to track the man. Demon. Whatever he was now.

This ship was moving, that much he could tell as he stood there and listened, but the fact that the roar of the engines was so quiet bespoke a vessel much larger than the ones he was accustomed to. He eyed the door coolly, wondering whether it would be worth his while to go exploring now or simply wait until the craft landed.

That he had no idea where he was being taken or how he’d gotten here on the ship didn’t much matter to him, though it might have to his caster. Cloud would have been very concerned. Strife didn’t give a damn. The relevant facts were that Sephiroth might be at the end of the ship journey or he might not, and if he wasn’t then Strife would find a way to him. That was what he did. That was all he’d been doing for longer than he cared to think about. He could be patient.

Or he could already be out the unlocked door, dismissing the Buster Sword and stepping lightly and cautiously to check for other life. Stoic hunter and all that crap aside, he was also bored, and distinctly remembered fighting on a planet before all this. Planets did not magically turn into ships while he was unconscious. Or at least, they didn’t without sentient help.

And over to here.