Fate had to be the most annoying force in existence. It was never on your side when you needed, when you knew it, you never had the important details, when you decided to make your own, it suddenly shows up and starts controlling your life. Lastly, it had an annoying habit of going ‘Oh yeah?’ to the most well-meaning, innocent people. No wonder most people would rather just no believe in it.
At the moment, fate spied three people that caught its odd and arbitrary fancy. One of these people, who had done nothing to fate, had already played a part as a toy, only later to be sealed away for thirty years from people, the world, and the erratic force, whose meddling had gotten him there in the first place.
The man shielded himself with his metal hand from a far more tangible force; the sun, though low in its arch, was blinding him and he had not felt it’s heat, or that of anything else, for decades.
Were it not for the woman next to him he would have panicked at his new surroundings. In fact, were it not for her, he would not have known about the third person being present.
Very little had made any sense, for the last few hours. Three strangers had wandered into his room, how they had gotten the door open without their swords, and why they hadn’t used said swords, was a mystery his mind wasn’t ready to think about. Why they had found him and what exactly they had been looking for had a few too many frightening prospects for him to try and attempt to think about. He kept telling them to leave him alone. He had had enough of people’s surprises and more than enough of people being overly friendly. Still, his sense of justice hadn’t gone the way of his self-esteem, meaning he still had it, and he couldn’t just let people get killed by the monster just outside the door. After that, he didn’t feel like going back in the coffin, but he knew, not exactly how much, but some significant amount of time had passed wince he’d been put in there and that he wouldn’t stand a chance, mentally, emotionally, financially, or physically, if he went out in the world by himself.
Now, after he had spent half an hour in light too bright to see in, after tripping over his own feet and pulling his atrophied muscles when he couldn’t get out of the mansion fast enough, after devouring someone else’s lunch when he didn’t even know their name, only to throw up all over himself an hour afterwards, he wasn’t really interested in doing anything in this alien yet familiar world save for sitting and observing it.
Humiliated, confused, filthy, and lost, he was thankful the woman—whose name had turned out to be Aeris and who was perfectly happy to have given him her lunch, even though he couldn’t keep it down, was here with him. The other person, whoever he was, had wandered off, telling him to ‘get settled.’
"Cid? Cid, I know you’re under the plane, now come one out!"
In response a deep, rough voice let out a garbled mess of expletives, managing only half a sentence despite all his vocabulary.
"Just ignore him, Vince. He talks like that to everyone, even when he’s happy," Aeris said.
Vincent had no idea how to react to that, so he didn’t.
After a few bangs and sounds of heavy metal tools being dropped and moved, someone crawled out from under the plane. "I guess I can get the drew to take over, it’ll be overtime, though, and it’s comin’ out of Cloud’s fuckin’ pocket, you hear me?" the man said; despite his volume and swearing, he seemed rather relieved to be able to relax and stand up again.
Vincent couldn’t see much of the man. He was covered in oil and grease and dirt, all fresh over a plethora of other stains that either had refused to be washed out of the old overalls, or the man had seen the futility and never tried. Underneath the black and brown and slight iridescence, Vincent could see a few patches of the man’s hair that appeared clean enough to prove their true blonde color. "Hey there," he said, and eagerly shook Vincent’s hand. "Who the fuck’re you?"
Vincent yanked his hand back and didn’t feel like talking. Thankfully Aeris spoke up for him.
"This is Vincent, he agreed to come with us."
Cid shoved the goggles off his face, revealing a rectangle of clean tan skin, surrounded by a mask of dusty pitch black, decorated with a spot of goo here and there. He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of the band and handed the carton to Vincent, who shook his head. Undaunted, Cid helped himself to one and put the carton back and tried to continue his attempt at having a direct conversation with Vincent.
"So where’d they find you? We gotta go shopping for people there more often."
"I… was locked in a room in the mansion," Vincent answered.
"…Oh." Cid had to stop and recollect his thoughts. He knew fate was up to something, but he had no idea how cruel she was going to be, or for how long or even if her plans could be thwarted or if she’d get bored. Cid had always fancied men, so his attraction to Vincent wasn’t wholly unjustifiable. However, he had sworn to never be tied down, never get himself into something so complicated as love. All he wanted was the sky, a few good friends, and something for his nicotine addiction. But now, fate had sent cupid to not shoot him with and arrow, but to drop and anvil on him. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but he also knew he was stuck. He’d seen enough of it and spent his life avoiding it enough to know that you couldn’t just turn it off or unplug it like a lamp that kept you up at night. Why was he falling for Vincent, anyway, he wasn’t even his type.
Vincent smelled like he desperately needed a bath. There was a vomit stain of his shirt, which was missing half the buttons—this fact only made Vincent’s appearance more odd due to the fact that the shirt was double-breasted. Vincent’s hair resembled an old mop head after someone had dipped it in tar and tried to use it to pave an uneven road. His skin was so white it couldn’t be healthy, and his eyes were such a bright red that Cid wondered if moths were attracted to his face. Vincent was leaning against the side of the plane and looked like he was going to lose his balance any second. He seemed to have as much trouble concentrating on anything as Cid had on concentrating on anything other than Vincent. Still, there was no smell of alcohol, just the overpowering smell of sweat and dirty laundry.
"I need a bath," Vincent said, and started to turn towards the door of the plane.
"A bath?" Aeris asked, giggling in her chirpy little way, like a songbird. "With no clean clothes to change into?"
"I didn’t think of that," Vincent, as if he thought he’d done something horribly wrong.
"Come on," she said, taking his right hand. "I’ll take you into town and we can get you some real clothes."
"Oh no, you’re fuckin’ not!" Cid said.
Both Aeris and Vincent looked at Cid, startled by his outburst; Vincent was the only one who took it as an actual threat.
"You’re gonna end up buying him a bunch of pink stuff, I mean, look at you!"
"What’s wrong with pink?"
"It’s for girls!" Cid said. "Here, I’ll go with him. Last time you went shopping, you got Cloud a dress."
Vincent said nothing as Aeris stepped back. "Here, you can have these," Cid said, clapping Vincent on the back with one hand and taking off his goggles with the other. He shoved the cigarettes in his pocket and handed the goggles to Vincent. "It’ll cut down on the glare."
Cid led a very confused Vincent away, neither knowing just how big a joke fate had played on them and Aeris just as oblivious to her own fate.
She stood there and whistled happily, then strolled into the plane, wondering just how she’d gotten Cid to do the chore Cloud had given her.