Axel made his way back from the markets with paper bags stuffed full of shopping in his arms. A grocery run, the type of chore he usually considered a necessary evil, was about as close to normality as he was able to get under the circumstances. As such, he'd jumped at the chance to do it, funereal atmosphere be damned.
His apartment, something he managed to afford thanks to him being in the lucrative business of monster-slaying, was spacious enough, but with both Aerith and Saix staying with him for the time being, it was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. That, and a curious invasion of plant pots had started appearing all over the place. They had sprang up on nearly every flat surface and some uneven ones. Shoots had started sprouting in them, too. He had no idea that they could grow that fast. Then again, they kind of had to. Timcanpy, his Golem, had taken to eating them almost as quickly as they grew.
That alone had caused something of a problem between Aerith and Timcanpy, but the situation hadn't quite escalated to all-out war just yet.
The only refuge from their standoffs, the smell of soil and the odd sensation that the wild was slowly taking over his space was the Sandsea. It was the tavern where the Order made their base and where Saix tended to lurk. Axel knew that he was desperate to go back to Lindblum to check on Vexen, or perhaps beg his forgiveness for accompanying him on his fool's errand, but all transcontinental flights had been grounded as a precaution and Saix, unable to go home, had taken to spending his nights sleeping on his floor and his days in the pub listening to the radio.
The depressing news broadcasts were a constant drone in the Sandsea thanks to the usual music being cut off. They were miserable, a constant dirge of repeated information, slow refreshers as to the situation in Midgar and the political state of the world, with the odd interview from somebody high up in some government or other thrown in to liven things up. Only yesterday a plea for calm from Reeve Tuesti, a Shinra official, had gone out from Junon, the temporary seat of Bancouri governmental power since the disaster. Occasionally, however, an update concerning the state of the temporary Aerodrome closures came up and it was those, he assumed, that Saix was tuning into.
Axel just needed a break from it all. Even one that lasted only as long as it took to pick up groceries.
Axel wasn't present on Spira for the destruction of Nabudis. He barely knew anything about it besides the fact that anywhere with the word 'Necrohol' in its title was not somewhere that travel companies offered package holidays or romantic getaways to. He hadn't had a great deal of time to research every wartime atrocity of the modern age, nor did he have any inclination to do so now. He had only really heard of what happened almost ten years ago in detail since returning to Rabanastre and listening to the news reports. They were kind of hard to avoid. Talk of Midgar, and of its similarity to Nabudis, was on the lips of almost every person he passed that wasn't maintaining a kind of distressed or depressed silence.
He tried to maintain a feeling of indifference at what had happened to Midgar, even though he had been there, but the memories of his own hometown seeped through. Lines blurred.
Aerith's new presence in his apartment didn't help, steady invasion from the soon-to-be-flowers aside. Midgar had been her home. She'd lost everything. Almost everyone she knew, every thing she owned. She could never go home. Axel knew that feeling. Even so, being able to sympathise with her didn't make him feel any better about it. If only they'd had more warning ...
He shook his head to dislodge that thought. There was nothing they could have done. What had happened there, whatever had happened, for whatever reason, had been planned in meticulous detail. Even Xigbar's source of information hadn't been forthcoming with the ins and outs of it, just that it was going to happen.
Axel sighed.
He glanced up at the blue sky that was visible between the tall buildings and squinted against the harsh desert sunlight. Dalmasca's dry season was relentlessly oppressive and that was compounded by the miasma of negative feeling that swirled in every corner of Rabanastre and swept down every street. He turned the corner and made his way home, intending to stow the groceries and then head to the Sandsea to get a nice, cold drink.
Assuming that Aerith and Timcanpy hadn't kicked off World War II in his living room, at least.
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Date: 2012-10-15 05:38 pm (UTC)His apartment, something he managed to afford thanks to him being in the lucrative business of monster-slaying, was spacious enough, but with both Aerith and Saix staying with him for the time being, it was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. That, and a curious invasion of plant pots had started appearing all over the place. They had sprang up on nearly every flat surface and some uneven ones. Shoots had started sprouting in them, too. He had no idea that they could grow that fast. Then again, they kind of had to. Timcanpy, his Golem, had taken to eating them almost as quickly as they grew.
That alone had caused something of a problem between Aerith and Timcanpy, but the situation hadn't quite escalated to all-out war just yet.
The only refuge from their standoffs, the smell of soil and the odd sensation that the wild was slowly taking over his space was the Sandsea. It was the tavern where the Order made their base and where Saix tended to lurk. Axel knew that he was desperate to go back to Lindblum to check on Vexen, or perhaps beg his forgiveness for accompanying him on his fool's errand, but all transcontinental flights had been grounded as a precaution and Saix, unable to go home, had taken to spending his nights sleeping on his floor and his days in the pub listening to the radio.
The depressing news broadcasts were a constant drone in the Sandsea thanks to the usual music being cut off. They were miserable, a constant dirge of repeated information, slow refreshers as to the situation in Midgar and the political state of the world, with the odd interview from somebody high up in some government or other thrown in to liven things up. Only yesterday a plea for calm from Reeve Tuesti, a Shinra official, had gone out from Junon, the temporary seat of Bancouri governmental power since the disaster. Occasionally, however, an update concerning the state of the temporary Aerodrome closures came up and it was those, he assumed, that Saix was tuning into.
Axel just needed a break from it all. Even one that lasted only as long as it took to pick up groceries.
Axel wasn't present on Spira for the destruction of Nabudis. He barely knew anything about it besides the fact that anywhere with the word 'Necrohol' in its title was not somewhere that travel companies offered package holidays or romantic getaways to. He hadn't had a great deal of time to research every wartime atrocity of the modern age, nor did he have any inclination to do so now. He had only really heard of what happened almost ten years ago in detail since returning to Rabanastre and listening to the news reports. They were kind of hard to avoid. Talk of Midgar, and of its similarity to Nabudis, was on the lips of almost every person he passed that wasn't maintaining a kind of distressed or depressed silence.
He tried to maintain a feeling of indifference at what had happened to Midgar, even though he had been there, but the memories of his own hometown seeped through. Lines blurred.
Aerith's new presence in his apartment didn't help, steady invasion from the soon-to-be-flowers aside. Midgar had been her home. She'd lost everything. Almost everyone she knew, every thing she owned. She could never go home. Axel knew that feeling. Even so, being able to sympathise with her didn't make him feel any better about it. If only they'd had more warning ...
He shook his head to dislodge that thought. There was nothing they could have done. What had happened there, whatever had happened, for whatever reason, had been planned in meticulous detail. Even Xigbar's source of information hadn't been forthcoming with the ins and outs of it, just that it was going to happen.
Axel sighed.
He glanced up at the blue sky that was visible between the tall buildings and squinted against the harsh desert sunlight. Dalmasca's dry season was relentlessly oppressive and that was compounded by the miasma of negative feeling that swirled in every corner of Rabanastre and swept down every street. He turned the corner and made his way home, intending to stow the groceries and then head to the Sandsea to get a nice, cold drink.
Assuming that Aerith and Timcanpy hadn't kicked off World War II in his living room, at least.