ᴡᴇʟʟ ... ɪ ɢᴜᴇss ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ; (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
classed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
realityshifted2014-11-06 12:16 pm
classed) wrote in realityshifted2014-11-06 12:16 pm
Entry tags:
✭ mission oo3;; what about my life so far?
( everyone else has been dealing with their own doppelgangers; his friends, those that he hasn't quite managed to make an impression on beyond stupid hero type, everyone that he's so far come into contact with since he'd first starting coming to the plane in the first place. he isn't any different, and even though this chance encounter effectively takes place before he runs into anyone else and their personal demon, at least, once it's over, it will allow him to help if they end up choosing the same route he has. ( which is, of course, the one that makes things way more difficult than they need to be. )
zack's shadow has already started in on him – hadn't wasted any time at all, which, considering just how often the soldier himself goes rushing into things? it isn't all that surprising. zack has his sword drawn, both hands curled tightly around the hilt and holding it steady as the thing spouts line after line of things that he doesn't want to hear at him, the words digging beneath the surface of his skin and burying themselves into his very being.
you've been trying so hard, you've got all these ambitions, and they're not letting you show 'em what you've got. it's all about sephiroth, the silver general, the war hero. how are you ever gonna live up to that?
if only that were where it stopped. no matter what he tells himself – that it isn't true, that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of him, because he's going to prove himself and all of his ambitions no matter how long it takes – it's only the beginning, and even as he grits his teeth against the sting of the words he's already beginning to doubt what he's believed about himself all along.
can't stop long enough to give it any thought, huh? just gonna swing that sword and hope it makes a difference? tch … you're not gonna convince anybody of anything if you don't start using your head more.
he's bloodied, already, bruised when he finally lowers his sword to take a breath, still gritting his teeth against the truths slowly eating away at him, picking off little pieces here and there and stripping him down to the bone. his shadow looks at him, head tilted to the side, those yellow eyes glowing far more brightly than they have any right to be. finally listening?
zack raises his head, a trickle of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth down his chin, every bone and every muscle aching as he raises his sword again, shakes his head.
let it never be said that he can't quite figure out how to do things the easy way the first time around – but it will catch up with him eventually. everything always does. )
zack's shadow has already started in on him – hadn't wasted any time at all, which, considering just how often the soldier himself goes rushing into things? it isn't all that surprising. zack has his sword drawn, both hands curled tightly around the hilt and holding it steady as the thing spouts line after line of things that he doesn't want to hear at him, the words digging beneath the surface of his skin and burying themselves into his very being.
you've been trying so hard, you've got all these ambitions, and they're not letting you show 'em what you've got. it's all about sephiroth, the silver general, the war hero. how are you ever gonna live up to that?
if only that were where it stopped. no matter what he tells himself – that it isn't true, that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of him, because he's going to prove himself and all of his ambitions no matter how long it takes – it's only the beginning, and even as he grits his teeth against the sting of the words he's already beginning to doubt what he's believed about himself all along.
can't stop long enough to give it any thought, huh? just gonna swing that sword and hope it makes a difference? tch … you're not gonna convince anybody of anything if you don't start using your head more.
he's bloodied, already, bruised when he finally lowers his sword to take a breath, still gritting his teeth against the truths slowly eating away at him, picking off little pieces here and there and stripping him down to the bone. his shadow looks at him, head tilted to the side, those yellow eyes glowing far more brightly than they have any right to be. finally listening?
zack raises his head, a trickle of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth down his chin, every bone and every muscle aching as he raises his sword again, shakes his head.
let it never be said that he can't quite figure out how to do things the easy way the first time around – but it will catch up with him eventually. everything always does. )