Cry: Chapter 1

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Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Compilation
Characters: Lucrecia (Star), Tiferet
Author's Notes: Yes, I'm going to be borrowing heavily from Dante. And yes, that's an OC. I debated, she stays.


The best part about traveling at night, by foot, through the wilderness of the Nibel area was all that brilliant time one had to simply think.

The worst part about traveling at night, by foot, through the—yes, the thinking thing.

Everything hurt, from exposed skin to mental anguish, to a broken heart, to joints that had seemed to crystallize. Lucrecia decided she really just wanted to sit down and have yet another nice big cry.

But, instead, she pulled her shawl a little tighter, flicked some hair from her face, and kept walking, one foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. March, march, march, sigh bitterly. Rinse and repeat, like shampoo instructions. Her hammer dragged behind her, adding its steady thump, thump, thump over the uneven terrain. Hurt and sorrow was slowing turning to resentment and anger as she gripped the handle more tightly. Control and power begin to build and well within her. How dare some… some stranger come stir her like that. Beat her and leave her. Pft—who would be so self-righteous to decide his sins were of so little consequence he was welcome to judge hers? And… and what exactly was he to her son? Hmph. Maybe… maybe she wouldn’t even worry about running, disappearing. Maybe she would just track him down and…

Lucy, what do you think you are doing?

And right on cue, one of the horrid little voices woke up in her head, the source of her insecurity and emotional instability, the fount from which all her agonizing second guessing came from. The construct she wanted to rebel against most, but never quite could shake.

After all, how do you defeat yourself?

“… Walking. I am walking.” She muttered, moving a little faster.

And thinking, weren’t you? Thinking of how you were wronged. You.

Sephiroth is dead. Hojo is dead. Vincent is… heh. And you? You take a few little blows and throw a hissy fit.

You bitch. You evil, selfish little bitch.

Shiva, it sounded like her mother.

“No one has the right to do that to another person.”

Are you stupid, you little cow? Who are you to discuss rights? To even consider yourself a “person.” Does a person kill? Do they unleash gods? Do they lie and steal and manipulate and forsake their heart for their… work? Their godsdamn work. And you know? It… wasn’t even that good. You were laughed at, Lucy. They laughed at you.

Now it sounded almost like Hojo. Except still mildly feminine. Oh… right. She forgot what had grabbed ahold of that little voice by the end of her natural life. What had put a megaphone to the lips of her deepest fears.

“Can it, Jenova.”

They’ll keep laughing at you, Lucy. Lil’ Lucy. Lil’ Loony Lu—

“SHUT UP!!!!” Lucrecia screamed, summoning all her petite might to swing the hammer around, slamming it into surrounding trees in a fit she knew she would surely regret later.

Or… now. Considering it attracted the attention of the entire forest—was that… oh, crap, what was that noise?

Shadows lumbered behind the trees, slowly closing in on the shaking woman attempting to hold her weapon ferociously and failing miserably. Lucrecia attempted to back track, but found herself hemmed in on all sides. Something wolflike, but about five times larger than she remembered wolves being leapt out towards her, drooling and rumbling.

“G-get lost!!” She yelled, shaking the hammer. The wolf snapped its jaws and advanced. A crouch, a launch, and mid flight of its attack, Lucrecia found her certain doom interrupted by a whirl of rainbow slamming bodily into her, knocking her to the ground. “THEE IT BEHOOVES TO TAKE ANOTHER ROAD!”

The wolf yelped and smacked into a tree. A flurry of spells machine gun spit themselves from the thing currently sitting on Lucrecia, sending the creature in a speedy retreat far away. “What the—“

Lucrecia’s own face stared back at her from under a tangle of rainbow falls and bangs. … Well, almost her face. Something about the coloring was off. And the eyes…

What the hell kind of a shifty color was that? … Gold? Really? Rimmed in dark raccoon lines of gunmetal eyeliner. And the emerald lipstick seriously didn’t help. But, hey, the dayglow accents on the… thing’s industrial black club gear totally took away from that horror. Alexander, it was like looking at Rainbow Brite on acid. Colors began to swirl around Lucy, and she attempted to remember if concussions can cause hallucinations as the world went black.