Cid's plan worked. None of his alcohol was found.
However, he DID discover something that he was only semi-aware of, and that was that Reno was on several drugs that he knew of, and several more drugs he didn't even know, and the evidence of that was all over Reno's side of the room.
Despite the fact that they were Reno's drugs, which Cid vehemently stated several times as they dragged him off, they had nothing to convince them of that with Reno missing. Cid cursed his luck outloud, repeatedly. What DID give him some satisfaction was the fact that Reno was going to be in just as much #$^# as he was going to be in.
Cid was struggling against the grip on his wrist half-heartedly, knowing that actually breaking away would be pointless, but he wanted to make it perfectly clear he did not want to go. Not to mention it was making it difficult and awkward to maneuveur with his crutches.
"God#&#@ it, I already told you those weren't mine. Jesus Christ."
"Highwind, please try to co-operate..." Shera sighed deeply. "It would make things so much easier for everyone."
"The #$&# I'm goin' to co-operate if didn't do any #$^#in' thin' wrong!"
"Listen, until we have Reno here to vouch for you, they could be yours or anyone's..."
"$^@^, they aren't mine! They weren't even on my side of the room!"
Hojo made a disgusted noise of frustration, which made Cid laugh in a way. This caused Hojo to jerk on his hand roughly, knocking Cid off balance and nearly causing him to fall, had it not been for Shera catching him. Cid regained his sense of balance to find Hojo's eyes boring into his own.
"I don't have time for your childish activities, Highwind." The anger on the professor's face was evident, but his voice remained under control. Cid could almost see him twitching. "Now come along and co-operate, or things will be much worse for you."
Cid wanted to say something, wanted to continue rebelling, but he knew that wasn't a good idea. He held it in, forcing himself into silence as they continued walking down the hallway, frustration boiling within Cid with every step.
This was all that $%^$er Reno's fault...god#^#@ him and his #$^#in' drugs, @#^@...
When they got to Jenova's office, Shera and Lucrecia broke off, and Hojo pushed the door open angrily, continuing to lead Cid in although he had stopped struggling as before. The professor let go of him once in the room angrily and walked towards the desk near the wall, arms crossed and an unhappy expression on his face. Cid made his way towards the empty chair, flopping into it gratefully as he let his crutches fall to the floor.
He couldn't speak when he saw Jenova at first either, but she could. Her voice made him feel uneasy.
"Hello, Highwind."
Cid blinked for a moment, brushing back his hair with an idle hand. "Um...hi."
"I want to speak with you concerning Valentine."
Cid jerked sharply. "What? What happened? Did somethin' happen to him?"
Jenova waved a large hand to silence him, the motion somewhat slowed and distorted. "No, he is fine. We want to ask you about the bottle in his room."
So Vincent HAD told them the truth. Good for him...he wasn't about to let Vincent take the fall for him when it was his fault.
"Yeah, that was mine. Sorry about that."
Jenova and Hojo exchanged glances for a moment.
"But the rest of the #$..." Cid cut himself off mid-word, trying to think of a replacement. "The rest of the stuff in the room isn't mine, it's Reno's."
Jenova leaned over her desk, writing something with slow, deliberate movements on a piece of paper underneath her arms. "Either way..."
"Whether or not the drugs are yours shall be determined later, Highwind." Hojo's voice had again taken on the cold, calculating tone it had before. Cid felt his attention slipping away already. "We also want to inform you that actions will be taken against the Weapons to prevent them from repeating what happened to you."
Cid blinked for a second, raising one of his bandaged hands to touch the cut that had been covered over his forehead, smiling in an evil way. "That's great. I've been wantin' to hear that."
"Do realize, however, that there will be repurcussions for what you have admitted to..."
Cid nodded. This didn't really surprise him, he was fairly sure his parents knew he drank anyway. They knew that Cid had gone out of their control long ago, and no longer tried to stop him. Cid leaned back, letting the tired muscles in his back relax for a few moments.
Jenova handed the paper she had been writing on to him. "This is where you have to go, and when. It's not voluntary."
Cid took the paper with distaste. He hated being told he had to go places. And it was probably one of those touchy-feely places where everyone was told to get in touch with their feelings, which meant they got to whine for hours about things that Cid didn't care about. He nodded, however, not wanting to voice his disapproval.
"We'll be contacting Reno. Thank you for coming."
Taking that as a sign to leave, Cid leaned down to get his crutches, while Hojo shuffled somewhat awkwardly.
"I think Professor Hojo has something he wants to say." Jenova's tone made it clear that there was no doubt whatsoever in her statement. Cid, confused, looked up, his hands still questing for his crutches, at the man who coughed awkwardly, adjusting his glasses and tightening the ponytail behind his head before speaking in his normal, clipped tone.
"I did not intend for you to be injured, and I apologize."
Cid narrowed his eyes. Did he really expect him to just accept an apology just like that? His inner sense told him that he should just say yes, but he hated listening to himself. His voice was scathingly sarcastic.
"Well, #$^#, I feel SO much better now."
The awkward silence that followed gave Cid the impression that he had definitly said the wrong thing, but he refused to take it back, instead levering himself upwards on his crutches and moving away, heading for the door. Neither Jenova nor Hojo said anything, and Cid closed the door behind him, sure that he had probably made a rather large mistake. He caught a sound that almost sounded like Jenova laughing behind him, but decided he must have been imagining it.
Trying to force it from his mind, he began to head down the hall, only to be stopped by Lucrecia and Shera.
"Do you know where you're supposed to go?"
Cid was tired of dealing with them and it was showing. He glared at them both angrily.
"I got the #$^#in' sheet, so now I'm goin' to get some #$^#in' sleep if that's okay with you two."
They broke away from him instantly, letting Cid go through in a foul mood, the paper that Jenova had given him tucked into one of his many pockets.
He got back to the room and got ready to take a nap, feeling exhausted and frustrated. His next class was later on in the day, so he'd be fine as long as he set his alarm. He flopped into his bed and fell into a deep sleep, not having any dreams during it, something he was actually grateful for.

~~~

The next day passed, thankfully, without much incident for either Cid or Vincent. Cid spent most of his day practicing with Reeve for the Talent Show, while Vincent took care of the numerous small things he had been neglecting lately. They still hadn't had contact since they had met outside of Vincent's room, and during this time Vincent had a great deal of time to think.
Seeing Cid again, and hearing him express his concern over what was happening to his room, reminded Vincent of how much he missed having him around. He felt overwhelmingly alone, even when Cloud was in the room, which he was even more rarely lately. He missed having people he could talk to, yet it was his own fault for refusing to talk in the first place. He felt extremely stupid and bad about what he had done, and wasn't exactly sure how he could fix it.
Cid asked him to come the Talent Show...well, that's what he was going to do. He was going to go and apologize, and tell Cid what was bothering him like he should have before. He was going to trust Cid.
He knew he had never done that before, but he didn't want to lose him over such a silly thing. He was sure that Cid would understand if he was the person that Vincent thought he was. He had to, or else he was making a big mistake.
But Vincent knew that he couldn't be making one, everything inside him told him that. He just had to trust him, for once, just trust him. He had to finally let someone else help support him.
The call from his parents that came later on that afternoon wasn't as bad as Vincent thought it would be. He explained carefully what had happened during each phone call, the first coming from his mother and the second his father, and his parents believed him. Vincent felt mildly surprised, but he knew that he had never really betrayed their trust before, so they didn't really have a reason to disbelieve him. He was glad for that. He didn't get along well with his mother, less so with his father, but he was glad that the ordeal hadn't become worse then it already had. They both urged him strongly to go to the meetings, which he was planning on doing already anyway, but he thanked them for their advice. He always felt drained after speaking with them.
At least the rest of his day was uneventful. He checked Cid's story, but there hadn't been an update, which both relieved and bothered him. Without the story to help, he didn't know how Cid was feeling at the moment. He felt very cut off, and he felt his own concern rising. He wanted to know how his friend was feeling, and he realized that must have been how Cid had been feeling all along. He felt another wash of regret, but clenched his first again in determination to fix what he had done.
Cid's parents didn't even call him.
The next day, the day of the talent show, Vincent went to his mailbox, his headphones firmly set in his ears and his walkman at high power, and found a card in there that he hadn't seen before. Mentally deducing it had to be the box of miscellaenous things he had sent himself, he took the blue card up to the counter of the mail room, stopping his walkman, looking around curiously. He had never been here before...he didn't really know what he was supposed to do. He pulled his ID from his pocket where he kept it, standing at the counter for a few moments tensely, fingering his card.
There was a loud crash from out of his vision behind the counter, and he looked in that direction with worry.
"Careful!"
"Careful I am!"
Within moments someone came to the counter, staring at Vincent with very tired eyes. "Yes?"
Vincent stared. He looked like a small boy, or at least, he was the size of one, with a large blue and white striped jesters cap on his head. Matching the blue of his hat was a blue shirt that had a large Z on the front, and when he reached out his small, child-like hands to take the card from Vincent's still hands, Vincent could see a large blue diamond on the back of it. Not sure of whether or not it was a tattoo or just pen, he didn't get much of a chance to study it in depth as he pulled his hand back underneath the counter, pulling out a large black book. Vincent felt the slight urge to ask if he needed help, but restrained himself.
"Need your ID..." The boy's voice was tired and exhausted, and Vincent held out his ID wordlessly. The jester wrote down the number on the card quickly and then slid the book back towards Vincent. "Sign here."
Vincent took the pen and looked up just in time to see what seemed like the first jesters twin, except clad in red, hanging upside down from the ceiling, a clipboard in his hands as he shuffled through the packages at the top of the shelves. The blue one turned angrily.
"It's number 327!"
"Know the number I do!" The red capped one angrily flipped onto the floor with surprising grace, glaring at his twin in annoyance.
"Um..." Vincent felt very awkward.
The two of them began bickering incessantly, and Vincent felt even more awkward then he had before. He tapped his returned ID on the desk for a few moments.
"Excuse me, um..."
They turned and stared at him. "I'd like my package..."
"If Thorn would do his JOB..." The blue one climbed back up towards the counter angrily, causing Thorn to throw his hands in the air and begin climbing shelves with surprising grace.
"If shut up Zorn ever did..."
Thorn eventually found the white box that Vincent had packed his things in and pulled it free, landing back on the floor easily. He slid it across the counter to Vincent, who took it gratefully.
"Thank you..."
The jester twins finally stopped arguing for a moment, apparently surprised. Zorn was the first to speak. "Um...you're welcome..."
Vincent took the package from the counter and walked off, hearing the two renew their argument as soon as he was out of earshot. Shrugging, he walked back to his room, bobbing to the music coming from his headphones occasionally.
In the box were several books that Vincent had wanted, some of his CD's and tapes, and some of his old sketchbooks. He kept them for nostalgia and also to study where he had gone wrong originally. He carefully arranged his things in their new places in his bedroom, setting his alarm for when the talent show would begin, and waited, watching TV distractedly.
Cloud came in once, but it was only to grab something he had forgotten and then disappear again. Vincent had become somewhat suspicious of where Cloud went during this time. Was he really dealing drugs or involved in some kind of drug cartel? Vincent's eyes roved lazily around the room for a moment. If he was still dealing with drugs, where would he be hiding them now? Certainly not the light...
Vincent shrugged. It wasn't his business, and he didn't want to ask anyway.
Finally, his alarm went off, alerting him, and he put on his large black sweater and trenchcoat as he headed out the door, thirty minutes early.

~~~

"I don't know about this, Cid..." Reeve was going back into his more timid mindset as he paced back and forth backstage along with the other people who were planning on being in the talent show. Cid was lounging on a large bass drum, looking very at ease. "Are you sure we should be doing this...? I mean, what if we get in trouble or something...what if we mess up...?"
"Stop worryin' so much, catface." Cid waved airily and smiled. "We'll be fine. Don't worry about it."
In truth, Cid was just as nervous as he was, but he wasn't going to show it. Cid had a masterful gift for hiding how nervous he was, but it did manifest itself physically by causing his limbs to shake compulsively sometimes. Fortunately, situated as he was, it would have been difficult for him to begin shaking.
The talent show had actually become something of a big thing, and it had many acts and people in it, something that helped Cid and Reeve feel a bit more at ease. If they had been one of the only ones to be in it, they would have felt more nervous then they did now. Finally, they heard the voice of the show master, and they settled into silence, still feeling extremely nervous inside.

~~~

Vincent, due to his early nature, had got a good seat near the front. He watched as the auditorium filled gradually until it was completely filled. He could see several faces that were vaguely familiar, along with several faculty, including Relm and Hojo. Jenova, he noted with some surprise, looked positively ecstactic over the entire affair. He sat comfortably and waited while the lights finally dimmed, bringing the chattering crowd to silence.
A spotlight fell against the curtains, and the leader of ceremonies walked forward, smiling broadly. His short blond hair was kept behind him in a ponytail, and he wore a shirt that read "Play Fair!" on it, along with large jeans. Behind him swept a prehensile, yellow-furred tail, and around his throat was a tiny black ribbon. He smiled to everyone as he waved broadly. Vincent realized that it was the same boy that he had seen in his Human Emotions class.
"Hey everyone!"
Everyone cheered in response to his warm voice.
"I'm Zidane, and I'll be leading the Talent Show for tonight! I hope you'll all be very supportive to the people who dedicated so much of their time to help entertain you all tonight! Remember, we'll be voting by measure of applause to who wins the cash prize at the end! Two hundred Gil to whoever-"
There was a voice from the rafters. "Just shut up and start the show!"
There was a slight titter from the crowd, and Zidane shot an annoyed glance to where he had heard the voice coming from before returning to the crowd with a smile. "Well, let's get going, shall we?"
Everyone erupted into cheers, which Zidane seemed to absorb with happiness. He waved his arms dramatically, and faster then one could catch, a packet of cards appeared in his hands. He bowed slightly to the few claps he got for his trick, then walked off towards the side of the stage, the spotlight following him.
"The first act we have for tonight is the senior best known to everyone as Mukki, here with his friends for an acrobatic show he describes as 'manly tumbling'! Let's give it up!" Zidane clapped his hands, thus launching the rest of the audience into excited applause. As he settled on a chair set near the edge of the stage, the curtains slowly opened.
Standing in the center of the stage, along with mats and the like, were several men, all dressed in very tight fitting spandex and tights. Vincent raised an eyebrow in confusion, but couldn't help but snicker slightly.
What proceeded was something that Vincent could not stop laughing at to himself for some time. He didn't know why he found it so amusing, but he had to cover his mouth with his hand and look down to keep from laughing outloud. Mukki's "manly tumbling" was extremely funny. They WERE skilled, but the sheer silliness of the entire thing just couldn't be avoided.
"Hup! Hup!"
"Hup! Hup!"
The two flipped evenly off the mat and rolled across, only to be caught by their teammates, who responded with the same thing.
"Hup! Hup!"
Meanwhile, Mukki stood near the back, looking extremely proud of himself. "That's it, Bubbies! Show them what you've got!"
Vincent was aching from concealed laughter, but he refused to let it come out. Nobody else in the audience seemed to be laughing...out loud anyway.
The finale involved Mukki and all his friends forming a huge human pyramid, with Mukki on the top, heaving and panting. They all landed skillfully and waved as they "hupped" their way off the stage with more heaving and panting.
The curtain closed, and finally Vincent couldn't contain himself anymore. He burst out laughing, his normally quiet voice caught with laughter. It was only a few seconds, but he finally managed to get himself back under control. This seemed to loosen the rest of the crowd up, and they laughed a bit themselves. Judging from Zidane's equally amused expression, Vincent assumed it was supposed to be funny. Zidane gestured broadly, his tail sweeping the floor behind him eagerly.
"Thank you, thank you. Remember everyone, sign ups for Mukki's annual trip to the cabin in the mountains are in the lounge!"
The audience laughed more readily at this, and Zidane read the next card with confidence.
"Our next act comes from three of the most skilled and prolific martial arts students at our fine college, along with the professor that taught all of them everything they know! Please welcome Tifa Lockheart, Yang Leiden, Sabin Figaro, and Master Zangan!"
Everyone clapped as the curtains opened once again, and the four stood in the center stage. Tifa was a tall, muscular woman who was wearing a white tanktop, along with shorts held up by suspenders. Next to her, matching her in size, were the two younger males, Yang and Sabin. Sabin's blond hair was held back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a sleeveless purple shirt with a pair of loose fitting white pants, held by a green sash. Yang seemed to be a bit older and more dignified then his two companions, his head mainly shaved except for a braid near the base of his skull, dark brown in color that matched his eyes. He was wearing an almost matching pair of pants to Sabin's, excepting his were red and held with a yellow sash, although he was shirtless. Zangan completed the ensemble, although he was almost completely obscured in a large voluminous red cape.
Although Tifa was the only female, she more then held her own in the oncoming display.
What followed was a flurry of activity that Vincent found hard to follow. It was almost as if there was a battle going on that had been carefully scripted for days. Tifa and Yang began at first, each blow blocked and given an appropriate counterblow with such speed that Vincent could not follow. Their hands and legs became blurs, and even when Sabin joined in, making the battle going in three different directions at once, they never once faltered, each one holding their own ground, attacking and defending in the same breath. Vincent watched in amazement and some envy. He wished that he could be able to perform such feats of atheletic prowess. At points the three even did jump kicks and flips in the air, things that were so insanely smooth that Vincent could not believe they were real humans in motion. They even performed running flips off of walls.
Zangan stood to one side, watching his students solemnly, until they had been carrying on the martial arts display for quite some time. Then he drew out a pair of nunchucks from underneath his cape and threw it onto the ground between the three.
Vincent expected a scramble for the weapon, now convinced that he was watching an actual battle, but this seemed to be carefully scripted as well, with each block and punch leading them closer and closer, until Yang finally took hold of the nunchucks, weaving them around him in a whirring blur.
Zangan then tossed both Tifa and Sabin staves and continued to stand back and watch.
If the original display was amazing, this was mindblowing. Yang's skill with the nunchucks was only defeated by both Tifa and Sabin's ability with the bo's they had been thrown. Each attack parried and countered with perfection, until finally they simultaeneously stopped, each of them dropping their weapons and bowing towards the audience, their performance complete.
The applause was loud and long, and after the curtain closed Zidane had to wave everyone to calm down.
"Aren't they great, folks? Remember, Zangan's karate class meets wednesdays and fridays. Be sure to sign up!"
Vincent sat and waited, wondering which number Cid's act would be. He had long since guessed that Cid was going to be IN the Talent Show, rather then just watch it with him.
"Next up, we have one of our foremost fencing and swordsmanship instructors, abilities which everyone needs to know." He smiled at the audience, who laughed in turn. "He's been with us for ages and has decided to bless us with one of his foremost displays of skill in the sword arts, including the well reknowned QuadraSlice technique! I present Master Cyan Garamonde!"
The majority of the crowd burst into applause, although Vincent clapped somewhat awkwardly. He had never heard of Cyan before...but he most have been quite a figure to warrant such applause before the show even began.
The curtains opened revealing the man sitting on a collection of boxes that must have been moved onto the stage during the delay between scenes. In the center of the stage stood a wooden dummy. Vincent stared as Cyan slowly stood. He was dressed in very simple clothes of silver and black, a hilt at his side, no emotion shown on his face, his mouth hidden by a black moustache. Dangerous eyes glittered as he slowly drew his sword from the sheath at his side, leaping onto the floor, his black ponytail, bound with a blue piece of fabric, fluttering behind him.
Vincent's mouth hung open at Cyan's amazing show of skill. The sword flickered and moved in patterns around Cyan, whirling in every direction possible, Cyan moving along it, the sword becoming an extension of his body. Cyan moved around the stage, and Vincent could almost see the invisible enemies that Cyan was dispatching and countering all at once. Never once did he falter, or misstep, or lose his balance. His motions were fluid and solid all at once, like water, and yet he did not touch the dummy set at the center of the stage. Not able to tear his eyes away, Vincent instead began to listen to find the rest of the auditorium stunned into complete silence. The only sound was the whoosh of Cyan's sword through the air, the light sound of his footsteps against the wood boards.
He knelt, the sounds stopping, and the silence struck Vincent almost as much as what happened next.
Cyan dashed towards the dummy set at the center of the stage, his sword raised high. The sounds and actions that followed went so quickly it was hard for Vincent to follow what was happening. Cyan seemed to appear in all directions at once, pausing for a moment only once he reached a different location. In fact, at one point Vincent almost saw Cyan laughing triumphantly, althought the rushing sound of air and the sound of metal cleaving through wood made it impossible to hear.
Cyan knelt at the front of the stage, sword held behind him, completely still as the dummy behind him fell into dozens of pieces, clittering to the floor with a dull sound.
Cyan stood amidst thunderous applause, sheathing his sword and waving to the rest of the crowd. For once there was a glint of happiness in his eyes, a slight smile on his lips, and then he was back to his normal impassive self, striding off the stage.
Vincent clapped as much as anyone else. Zidane took the stage again, the curtain closing on Cyan's straight, proud form.
"And THAT'S why he teaches swordplay!" Zidane smiled at the laughter that came from his statement. "I also have to tell everyone that Master Garamonde is refusing to compete, so he's not going to be eligible to win the prize. He said he wants it to go to someone who truly deserves it."
There were a few boos from the crowd, but the majority of people cheered for his charity. Vincent found himself smiling. So not only was he skilled, he was noble as well...he had a feeling he would have enjoyed having Cyan as a teacher, however uninterested he was in swords.
"Thou art too kind, Master Garamonde!" Zidane smiled as most of the audience began laughing, although Vincent wasn't sure why. "Thank you!"
Zidane again seemed to generate the next card out of thin air.
"Our next act comes from one of our more famous female RA's, you may all know her." Zidane smiled. "She's been practicing her skill for years, and she's decided to share it all with you. Here's Freya Crescent!"
Zidane backed away, clapping, as the rest of the audience welcomed her. The curtains slid open, and Vincent watched intently.
Standing in the center of the stage, which had been cleared of the debris of Cyan's display, stood the woman, carefully composed. Vincent did a double take for a moment. She...
Freya's short white hair framed a kind, grey-furred face, framed by two large rat-like ears. She twitched her muzzle for a moment, extending her paws for a moment to greet the crowd, which clapped in response. The rat-woman, which was all that Vincent could think of to describe her at the moment, was dressed primarily in red and purples, her tail snaking along behind her with a single ribbon attached near the end. Balanced on careful footclaws, she gestured to the sidelines, nodding once.
A careful harp melody began, and Freya let her arms rest at her sides, her eyes closing for a moment. Shortly after the harp began, the drums and the rest of the melody kicked in, and then Freya began to dance.
With a sharp clicking motion, Freya kicked her legs forward in short, controlled movements. The clicking of her footclaws went along perfectly with the music that was accompanying her, and not once did she ever move her arms. She lept slightly, performing a delicate spin, and her tail swayed along with the lively melody that continued to increase in speed and tempo. The clicking of her footclaws actually began to add to the music itself instead of accompanying it, and she performed another leap before finally coming to a stop, her feet and the music stopping at the same time. She bowed as the crowd clapped and cheered for her, Vincent among them. He had never seen a dance like that before.
"Thank you, Freya!" Zidane smiled as he walked back on stage, and Freya waved as she exited stage right. "She's been doing that for years, you know. Now for more on the musical front, we have someone who's been singing for years, particularly opera, we have one of our foremost students in both the liberal and physical arts, Celes Chere! Everyone, give her a hand!"
Everyone in the audience clapped as the curtain opened once again.
The music began at first, slow and sad. The tone hit Vincent very hard, it nearly brought him to tears. It sounded so familiar to him, something that reminded him of a previous tragedy...
Slowly the light began to build near stage right. The woman sitting on the edge of the boxes, which had been replaced, seemed to radiate strength and yet, a very strong sense of sadness. She had one leg curled up near her chest, her arms near her sides, protected by orange bracers. She was wearing a matching pair of pants and an orange vest over a dark purple tanktop underneath. She turned to face the audience slowly, her long blonde hair moving past her shoulder slowly. Vincent felt a deep pang of sadness, and he wasn't sure why.
She let her leg fall, leaning back for a moment, her eyes closed. When she sang, her voice was planitive and sad, and fit the mood of the music perfectly.

Oh my hero, so far away now
Will I ever see your smile?
Love goes away, like night into day
It's just a fading dream...

At this point the music picked up from the sparser feeling it had originally, again manipulating Vincent's emotions beautifully. He could almost feel himself putting a hand over his heart as she began singing once again.

I'm the darkness, you're the stars
Our love is brighter than the sun
For eternity, for me there can be,
Only you, my chosen one...

She stood slowly, moving down the boxes for a moment, her voice never changing or altering as she moved. However, the language she was singing in changed, and she handled this with such skill that it was hard to remember she had originally been singing in English.

Amor mio, caro bene,
Perché vai lontan da me?
Giurasti un amor, che mai non dovea
Aver fine per noi...

Nei momenti...di tristezza,
Nei momenti di dolor,
A te, mia stella, penso
Con infinito ardore...

She stood in the center of the stage, her voice clear and beautiful, as she held out her arms. She looked so strong, and yet she was so beautiful all at once. Again the language changed, and she handled it masterfully, her pronounciation perfect.

Itoshi no...anata wa...tooi tokoro e?
Iro asenu, towa no ai, chikatta bakari ni

Kanashii...toki ni mo...tsurai toki ni mo,
Sora ni furu, ano hoshi o, anata to omoi...

She held the final note beautifully, the music ending with her, and she bowed, her hair moving past her shoulders lightly. As the curtains closed, Vincent clapped loudly, feeling both touched and moved by her performance. Someone in the crowd began shouting.
"Mariaaaaaaa!"
"Setzer, sit down!"
However, Vincent felt that she did not get the praise she deserved, and wondered if maybe no one was as sympathetic to the song as he was. Shrugging, he waited until Zidane took the stage again, wiping away a fake tear. He waited for the applause to die down before speaking again, which took a little while. Although Celes didn't get as much applause as, say, Cyan, the ones who did applaud for her applauded for a long time.
"Beautiful, wasn't it? A big thanks to Celes for that wonderful performance. Next up..." Another card seemed to materialize in Zidane's hand, and he read off it with a flourish. "We have the Iron Qu competion, with Quina Quen, Quale, and Quan! Let's give them a hand!"
Vincent clapped obediantly, making a note to ask Celes later what the name of the aria she had sung was, and waited.
When the curtain opened again, there were standing three of the most bizarre things Vincent had ever seen, amidst a collection of culinary goods, equipment, and accessories that had been gathered for their act. They were beyond description, except they all had exceptionally long tongues and were dressed like cooks.
Since the last few acts had been so deadly series, this was a welcome break. The competition was very funny, with many comic mishaps and the like. Quina demonstrated her (or was it a he?) ability to flip pancakes perfectly into its mouth, although it did miss with one, striking Quale in the head with it instead. Vincent felt a lot better watching them, as the aria had left him feeling sad inside for some reason. He smiled as they dashed back and forth cooking various things, and finally ending up with an actual large buffet, which they stood in front of proudly.
Zidane walked forward again, clapping for them. "Thank you, thank you! Anyone who wants to sample the Qu's cooking can go outside after the show."
Although the creatures did look very odd, they could cook, Vincent could tell by his sense of smell, and he made a note to go visit the table afterwards.
"After out next act we'll have a short break, then go back on schedule, okay everyone?" Zidane smiled and flipped another card out of seemingly nowhere. "Our final act for now is going to be performed by some of Cyan's best students, Kain Highwind and Cecil Harvey!"
Vincent jerked as he heard the familiar last name, but the person who walked on stage did not look familiar to him at all. He stared in confusion, not sure of what to make of someone with the same last name. Cid had never mentioned a brother, and they didn't look anything alike.
Cecil and Kain were decked out in what seemed to be prop armor, Kain equipped with a dragon-like headpiece, while Cecil's looked more like a hawk. Kain had a long spear, while Cecil was carrying a sword. The two of them saluted eachother.
"I shall disobey his majesty! The crystals belong to the world!" Cecil called out over-dramatically.
"Then you shall die for disobediance! His majesty's wish is law!" Kain seemed to be a bit more skilled, his voice not quite as forced. Both advanced at once, and then began to clash.
Vincent watched with interest. They were skilled indeed. They parried and dodged, and they had momentary power struggles, usually during which Cecil would lose. At one point Cecil even lost his sword, knocked to one side by one of Kain's more powerful strikes, and he rolled quickly to retrieve it. The battle finally ended with both of them apparently stabbing one another at the same time, slumping to the stage in mock death. As they stood and bowed, the audience clapped for them eagerly, Vincent among them.
The curtain closed, and Zidane took the stage once again. "Thank you for that display, Cecil and Kain! There will now be a short intermission! Feel free to walk around or get something to drink."
Vincent didn't feel uncomfortable, so he simply sat where he was, watching the rest of the audience get up and move around. The intermission was indeed fairly short, and he spent most of it just watching other people. Zidane remained near the edge of the stage, his tail twitching. He seemed to really be enjoying what he was doing. He was probably an actor.
Everyone eventually filed back in, and the show continued onwards, Zidane again taking center stage.
"Welcome back everyone! We've got some really great acts up for you now, so enjoy! Our next act is courtesy of Locke Cole, who is demonstrating one of his more 'unique' skills." Zidane gestured towards the curtain, that fluttered open to reveal the stage.
In the center of the stage was a dummy, apparently stuffed with straw, that was covered with various pockets. Over each pocket was a small set of bells, three to each pocket. Locke himself sat off to the side, smiling confidentally as he waved to the crowd. His grey hair was held back by a blue bandana, and he wore a matching blue vest and pants over a white shirt. His face seemed kind, but there was something about it that gave Vincent a sense of misgiving.
"Remember kids..." Locke spoke, holding out his arms. "Don't do this at home."
There was a scattering of laughter among the crowd, and Locke smiled in return, brushing back some errant strands of hair from his face. He then turned towards the dummy, walking over to it confidentally. He reached inside one of the many pockets that littered the dummy, causing the bells to jangle warningly. He pulled out a single gil.
"Every pocket on this dummy has one gil in it, as you can see..." He put the coin back inside the pocket, causing the bells to again chime, and then turned to the audience, turning his pockets inside out.
"Nothing up my sleeve..." He smiled again, causing another snicker from the crowd.
"And away we go!"
Locke moved in a blur that was too fast to be seen, and he ended at the other side of the stage, kneeling. He stood and smiled, holding up his hand and fanning out three gil against one another.
"Now, in slow motion for those of you not paying attention..." Locke dropped the three gil onto the ground, where they made a clanging noise. He walked back to the dummy this time, much slower and paused next to it.
Vincent watched intently, not wanting to miss this again.
Locke stood next to the dummy, and looked off in the other direction. His hand moved towards one of the lower pockets on the dummy, and in a quick, but easy to see movement, entered into the pocket and came back out again, a gil held tightly between two fingers. The bells made no sound whatsoever. Locke smiled as he let the gil join it's brothers on the floor.
With quick motions, Locke moved around the dummy, looking for all the world as if he was doing something else, although it wasn't clear what. He looked at the ground, at the sky, and at one point even looked at the dummy itself, waving and smiling at it as if it were alive. And there was the constant sounds of coins hitting the ground with each step he took, as he pickpocketed everything the dummy had without the bells making a single sound.
The last gil he flicked into the air and caught with ease, smiling with easy grace. He winked at the crowd. "Like I said...don't try this at home."
He bowed once again as the curtains closed amidst a great deal of applause. Vincent applauded to, albeit a bit slower. That was indeed impressive. He had to make a note to be careful around Locke from now on.
Zidane walked to the center stage again. "Wasn't that great? Locke's one after my own heart, really." Zidane winked towards the audience, causing another fit of laughter. "Not that we endorse that kind of behavior, but..." He shrugged and smiled. "You know."
The rest of the audience smiled and laughed with him.
"Next on our list of acts we have Cid Highwind and Cait Sith...Reeve?" Zidane shrugged for a moment. "Either way, they're here to give their own stab at the singing profession. Take it guys!"
Vincent sat forward in his seat, dying of curiousity to find out what it was that Cid had wanted to say to him through the talent show.
The curtain opened on Cid standing in front of the microphone, Reeve standing behind him with an acoustic guitar. Cid nodded to Reeve, who nodded back haltingly. Cid took the microphone confidently, although Vincent could see his hands shaking. He had to be nervous, Cid didn't strike him as the type to enjoy publicity. Reeve began strumming on the guitar for a bit, after a few bars finally getting the hang of it and playing rather well. Vincent noticed that he wasn't using a pick.
"Folks, I'd like to sing a song about the American dream..." Cid walked across the guitar, dragging the microphone cable along behind him, smiling insatiably. His eyes were scanning the crowd, not doubt looking for Vincent. In response, Vincent raised his metal claw, hoping that would be enough. Once he located him, Cid smiled broader and nodded towards him and continued.
"About me. About you." Cid put a hand on his chest, his voice sincere, but his face still uncontrollably smiling. "About the way our American hearts beat way down in the bottom of our chests...about that special feeling that we get in the cockles of our hearts." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe below the cockles, maybe in the sub-cockle area, maybe in the liver, maybe in the kidneys, maybe even in the colon...we don't know."
He gestured to Reeve, who began playing with a bit more vigour, and Cid actually began to sing at this point. Vincent was surprised that he could, but Cid had a very strong voice that wasn't that unpleasant to listen to.

I'm just a regular joe with a regular job
I'm your average white suburbanite slob...
I like football and porno and books about war
I got an average house with a nice hardwood floor

The audience was giggling at this point, and Vincent was smiling, but he didn't understand what Cid was trying to say yet....

My wife and my job, my kids and my car
My feet on my table, and a cuban cigar...

At this point Cid turned directly towards the audience, more energy in his voice, it taking a much more rough tone that Vincent was used to.

But sometimes that just ain't enough to keep a man like me interested!

In the background Reeve softly accompanied him.

Oh no, No way, uh uh, no...

Cid held his hands into the air, smiling broadly as he continued to sing in an extremely rough way, not so loud as to be considered screaming or shouting, but not exactly singing at the same time.

No I've got to go out and have fun at someone else's expense!

Reeve sang along with him with a bit more energy this time.

Woah yeah, oh yeah, yeah yeah yeah!

Cid was smiling rather evilly at this point, and he held his arm out, the microphone still near his mouth as he continued to sing.

I drive really slow in the ultra-fast lane
While the people behind me are going insane!

The rest of the audience was laughing at this point, and Cid began to sing with more control at this point, which made Vincent begin to smile.

I'm an @#$hole!

He held the note while Reeve sang along behind him.

He's an @#$hole, What an @#$hole

Cid threw his head back, keeping his arm out, as he continued to sing with all his power, Reeve echoing him in the background.

I'm an @#$hole!
He's an @#$hole, Such an @#$hole, olyole...

Cid turned to the audience again, smiling broadly, as he continued to sing, his hand outspread.

I use public toilets, and I @#$% on the seat!
I walk around in the summertime saying "How about this heat?"

Vincent smiled to himself as he leaned on one of his hands, watching Cid begin to enjoy himself on stage, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He couldn't believe that Cid would go through this much trouble to try and say sorry in his own way. Vincent knew what Cid meant through the song, although he didn't feel it was justified, and he could not stop smiling through the entire song. The rest of the audience was laughing rather hard.
The two of them went into the chorus once again, Cid moving around excitedly while Reeve began to smile as he sang, enjoying himself.

I'm an #$%hole!
He's an @#$hole, What an @#$hole
I'm an @#$hole!
He's the world's biggest @#$hole....

Cid again turned to the audience, his voice rising with barely contained humor underneath as he continued to sing.

Sometimes I park in handicapped spaces
While handicapped people make handicapped faces!

Vincent found it kind of odd to hear Reeve swear, but continued to listen.

I'm an @#$hole!
He's an $%@hole, What an @#$hole
I'm an @#$hole!
He's a real @#$%ing #$%hole...

Then suddenly Cid grew serious, holding the microphone near his chest looking incredibly sincere. He looked at the audience with a small smile on his face as he continued to sing.

Maybe I shouldn't be singing this song
Ranting and raving and carrying on
Maybe they're right when they tell me I'm wrong...

Cid turned as if to walk away, then spun around.

Nah!
I'm an @#$hole! (He's an @#$hole, What an #$@hole)
I'm an @#$hole! (He's the world's biggest @#$hole)

At this point Cid took the microphone and stopped singing, instead speaking extremely fast.
"You know what I'm goin' to do? I'm goin' to get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, hot pink!" Cid gestured broadly. "With whaaaaleskin hubcaps, an all leather cow interior, and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah!" Cid pumped a fist for a moment. "And I'm goin' to drive around in that baby, at a 115 miles per hour, gettin' one mile per gallon, suckin' down quarter-pounder burgers from McDonalds in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers, and when I'm done suckin' down those greaseball burgers, I'm goin' to wipe my mouth with the American flag, and then I'm goin' to toss the styrofoam containers RIGHT out the side, and there's ain't a GOD$%@# thin' anybody can do about it, you know why? Because we got the bombs, that's why." At this point people in the audience began cheering, which only seemed to encourage Cid.
"Two words: Nuclear #$^@IN' weapons, oKAY?" Cid emphasized the end of the word as he began to gesture behind him, turning his back on the audience for a second. "Russia, Germany, Romania, they can have all the Democracy they want, they can have a big Democracy cakewalk right through the middle of Tienamen Square and it won't make a lick of difference cause WE GOT THE BOMBS, oKAY?" Again Cid was greeted with cheers, and he decided to randomely change topic.
"John Wayne's not dead, he's frozen, and as soon as we find a cure for cancer we're going to thaw out the Duke and he's going to be pretty @#%#ed off, you know why? Have you ever taken a cold shower? Well multiply that by fifteen million times, and that's how $#@%ed off the Duke's going to be! I'm going to get the Duke and John Casavetti and..."
At this point, Reeve began to cut in, and finally it was enough to make Cid stop ranting enough to turn around.
"Hey! Hey hey hey!" Reeve was smiling himself. "You know, you really are an @#$hole?"
Cid smirked. "Why don't you just shut up and sing the song, pal?"
Amidst a great deal of applause, they launched back into the song.

I'm an #%$hole!
He's an #$%hole, What an #$%hole
I'm an #$%hole!
He's the world's biggest #$%hole!

At this point Cid began to gesture at the crowd as he began to spell out the word, calling out for them to join him. They got several choruses going on, and Vincent himself could not restrain from joining in.
"H-O! L-E!"
And finally Cid held up his hands for a silence, leaving Reeve to play a small riff on his guitar as Cid took the guitar and, looking comically serious, he stared at the audience.
"I'm an #$%hole, and I'm proud of it."
And Reeve struck the final chord on the guitar, and the audience erupted into applause, causing Cid to bow repeatedly. Vincent clapped as much as the rest, and he caught Cid meeting eyes with him for a few seconds and winking. Finally they were ushered off the stage, and Zidane again took center stage.
"Doesn't take a genius to know THAT song's going to be popular." Zidane smiled, and the rest of the audience laughed with him. "Thank you, Cid and Reeve! Our next act is courtesy of one of our more eccentric staff residing with us as a master of costume and design! Truly a mystery to everyone, I present Gogo!"
Zidane backed off, clapping, and Vincent clapped as well, curious as to what Zidane could be talking about.
When the curtain opened, the stage was clear, and then someone walked on stage.
Vincent and everyone in the audience blinked. It was Jenova.
He expected her to say that Gogo couldn't make it, or something happened, or that Cid was being dealt with, but a peal of laughter broke his thoughts, making him turn towards the back of the room. There, sitting in a chair along with Hojo and Lucrecia, Jenova was clapping her hands and laughing. Completely and utterly confused, Vincent turned back to the stage to find the Jenova on stage bowing and smiling.
A screen was wheeled onto the stage, stopping next to the other Jenova, who waved for a moment before disappearing behind the screen.
In a surprisingly short time, someone appeared from behind the screen, wrapped in so many clothes and garments that Vincent couldn't tell whether or not they were male or female. Vincent was extremely confused, and he got the impression from a lot of people in the audience that he wasn't the only one. However, there were a few people he noted who smiled at this, having previous experience with Gogo no doubt.
"I am Gogo." The voice that came from the huge pile of wraps couldn't be identified as female or male either, and again the figure disappeared behind the screen.
It seemed to only take seconds before it emerged again, this time an exact replica of Prof. Hojo. Vincent could barely stifle a snicker at this, and when he chanced a glance at Hojo he found his expression not one of amusement. This caused Vincent so smile more broadly, and Gogo bowed for a moment.
"Assignment due tomorrow!" It did in a perfect imitation of Hojo's voice, causing more people in the audience to laugh. Bowing, it returned behind the screen and came out once again, this time a perfect imitation of Cyan.
"Thou art late! Thou must pay thy penalty!" It drew a sword from it's side and brandished it for a few moments amidst the laughter, bowing once again before disappearing behind the screen.
Gogo went on to imitate Lucrecia, Shera, Zidane, someone that Vincent wasn't familiar with who had an extremely funny voice, and several other faculty members, as well as students that were well known. Gogo even imitated Mukki, which impressed Vincent the most because Mukki seemed to be a completely different body type. But that didn't stop Gogo. It switched genders, ages, weight, even height at times. It was really quite mystifying, and Vincent almost wished that Gogo would try to copy him, but in the end Gogo finished with a stunning imitation of Freya before bowing and leaving the stage amid copious applause.
"Isn't that amazing?" Zidane took the center stage again. "I mean, Gogo even got my tail right! Truly someone of great talent. Oh, also Gogo has decided not to participate for the cash prize, putting them with Cyan. How generous, huh?"
No wonder Gogo was a mystery... Vincent thought to himself. No one knew who they really were.
"Anyway, our next act is a friend of ours only known as Mog Moogle, who has some major dancing skill to show everyone. Take it, Mog!" Zidane again gestured towards the curtain, which opened once again to reveal a clear stage, devoid of the screen that had accompanied Gogo.
A short guy that reminded Vincent strongly of Reeve's friend Moog he had seen once or twice walked on stage with confidence and an easy gait. He was clad entirely in white, with a pair of strap-on reddish batwings attached to his back. Even his hair was white, although it was parted by an extremely thin stalk holding a small orange ball suspended above his head. His ears reminded Vincent of Reeve's, only not so prominent. They were however, pointed and seemed vaguely cat-like.
Mog took the center stage, nodding to the sides with confidence, causing the ball to bob along with his movements.
He smiled confidentally at the rest of the audience, holding his hands out. "First up..." His voice had something odd about it that made Vincent pause. Did he hear something in the background go "kupo"...? "Wind Song."
The music began and Mog began to dance. This was far different then Freya's strictly controlled dance. It ranged all over the stage, with the full use of Mog's arms and legs. Never once did Mog's wings or head-bobber (Vincent couldn't think of anything else to call it) interfere with what he was doing...in fact they matched with his motions perfectly, and it seemed that Mog had taken into account the wings and bobber while practicing the songs. The music complimented Mog perfectly as he ranged about with a grace that Vincent never would have guessed from his appearance. Vincent got a calming feel from the entire atmosphere, however, and it was pleasant.
"Forest Suite!" Mog called out, and the music segued nicely into a different kind of tone, which changed Mog's kind of dance. His dance became more subtle and controlled, involving his arms more then anything else, and he moved around the stage with far more grace then before. Vincent felt somewhat cold and alone, and he was confused. He wasn't aware music had this kind of affect on him.
Mog stopped dead for a moment before speaking again. "Desert Aria."
The music changed again, suiting what he had called out, but never did the change seem sudden or jerky. The types of music bled into one another with great ease. Mog's motions became more like water, and he didn't move nearly as much as he had before. It focused more around his body. Vincent felt very dry, and he wondered if he was just making up emotions to go along with the music. He began to feel concerned over whether or not Mog would get tired from dancing so long...
"Love Sonata."
Again the music changed, this time becoming much more soft and slow. Mog almost seemed to take someone in his arms and begin to dance gracefully around the stage, almost ballroom dancing, although it also resembled ice skating for some reason to Vincent, with the graceful leaps and spins. He felt longing and sadness, and he didn't know why.
"Earth Blues!"
The music became more bluesy, more mellow, and Mog's dance became slower, but more sensual in a bizarre way. His whole body became involved again, his steps light but controlled and timed perfectly. He could sense the girl sitting next to him shifting slightly. It must have made her uncomfortable...There was a barely controlled energy in Mog that Vincent could sense. He felt more invigorated and much more freer then he had before, and he began to move back and forth along with the catchy beat of the music.
Mog stopped, one leg in the air with his arms poised above him, before speaking, not looking towards the audience. "Water Rondo."
The music took on a different beat, more of a repetition, but one that seemed different then Vincent had heard before. In accordance, Mog began to move with a repetitive motion, yet each time it seemed slightly different. Vincent couldn't tell whether or not he was moving or not, and he felt kind of oppressed for some reason, like he was under something. He had to be making these feelings up...
Pausing with his back arched and his arms behind him, Mog spoke again. "Dusk Requiem."
The music took on a deeply somber tone, much more so then any of the other songs that Mog had gone through, and Mog began to move very slowly and very sadly. Vincent felt a pang of depression hit his heart, and he sunk back into his chair. The dance seemed to sap him of all strength. Mog continued slowly, almost as if mourning, before speaking again from a kneeling position, his face covered.
"Snowman Jazz!"
The music suddenly picked up tempo, and Mog spun out of his kneeling position with grace and ease, shocking Vincent out of his depressed state. The music's liveliness and emotion was captured easily in Mog's free and wild motions, his arms and legs moving almost of their own free will. Mog ended the dance with his arms and legs spread out into the air, his head thrown back, and he smiled as the the song finally ended.
The applause that greeted him was amazing, and he smiled in response, his eyes nearly disappearing. He waved to the audience before moving off stage. Vincent noticed how he dragged his feet, and wondered just how tired Mog had to be.
"Thank you, Mog! That was great!" Zidane clapped as he took center stage, smiling as he flicked another card out of thin air. "Our last act for tonight..."
Everyone in the audience began booing, and Zidane waved them off airily. "You know it's got to end sometime, right? Our last act for tonight are two that you've probably seen around school. They sell you books, make your food, sell you your supplies, deal with your mail...hey, give me something they DON'T do!" Zidane gestured broadly out, and Vincent realized who he had to be talking about...
"Please welcome the twins we know and love as Zorn and Thorn, as they give their rendition of a song they composed themselves, Jesters of the Moon!"
Zidane backed off, still clapping, as the rest of the audience clapped as well, Vincent among them. He wondered what the two were doing...
The curtains opened to reveal the two of them in the process of pushing a piano into center stage. It only took seconds before it was in place, and the two of them lept onto the piano bench nearby. Vincent stared...where was their sheet music...? They couldn't have memorized it, could they...?
Zorn took the lower half of the keyboard, while Thorn took the upper half, and, with a nod, they both began playing.
The music fit their characters perfectly, a light, fun song that had two completely different parts that melded into one. The notes were light and quick, and the two of them played each part without a single mistake. At one part in the song they both went in opposite directions on the keys, but the music still managed to come together.
It wasn't until they were comfortable into the song that it began to get unbelievable.
Zorn exchanged glances with Thorn, and they continued playing for a few moments until there was a short pause. At this pause, Thorn rolled to one side, Zorn lept over him, and they continued playing as if nothing had happened, only completely switching their places at the piano. The sound of the bells at the tips of their hats matched along with the song, and with every movement they took, the bells matched with the song, as if it were completely planned.
The song continued on as if nothing had happened, and Vincent watched in amazement, beginning to wonder if it had actually happened or not.
The top of the piano was closed, something that was quickly brought to Vincent's attention as Thorn lept over his own hands, turning in midair so he landed skillfully on his stomach on the top of the piano, not even making any kind of noise as he continued to play from his vantage point on top of the piano, his fingers not faltering once even though he was now technically playing upside down and backwards.
Vincent continued to watch, amazed, as Thorn rolled onto his back and flipped back into the piano seat with ease, still not missing a single beat. The two melodies continued to coincide, one going up the piano while one went down.
With a smoothness that surprised him, Zorn and Thorn's hands began to switch, with Thorn's right hand playing Zorn's left part and vice versa. Again, there was not a single change in the tone of the song, and the notes continued to ring out as clearly and brightly as they had at the beginning, without a single mistake. They again did a roll, switching positions during a momentary pause, and then Thorn took over the keyboard entirely for a moment. Zorn took this moment to perform a complete acrobatic backflip neatly onto the top of piano, landing so softly Vincent could not believe that he weighed anything. Not even pausing to take a breath, Zorn did a sideways flip where Thorn was sitting, who slid down the bench until he took the upper half once again, and Zorn took the same position that Thorn had taken just a moment ago, laying on the piano, although this time he closed his eyes and crossed his arms so his left and right hands were playing their opposites.
Vincent could not believe it, and yet the music played on, completely perfect, capturing the essence of what was happening.
Zorn continued to play blind, his perspective of the keys skewed in so many ways that Vincent could not count them all, and then he opened his eyes long enough to do a flip back onto the piano bench, only he was facing the audience. His arms remained behind him, and for a few moments he played from that position before turning back around to where he was.
Thorn did a complete 360 spin on the piano bench before going back to where he had been playing without error, continuing to play the song with his twin. The two of them played for a few moments, and Vincent again began to doubt he had seen what he had just seen. Their fingers continued to play over the keys, striking each chord and each note as if it was as natural as breathing to them.
Again they did a leap and a roll, only this time Thorn rolled completely off the piano bench, Zorn continuing to play, landing in a kneeling position for only a moment. He did another perfect backflip onto the piano stand, this time landing on his hands. He then continued to flip once more backwards, leaving the bench entirely. During this Zorn rolled underneath him, and Thorn landed neatly on his feet, kneeling on the bench and again taking his part in the song, playing perfectly. Again, there were no skips or misses in the song, and Vincent watched completely stunned.
They continued playing for a moment before again engaging in their amazing acrobatics, this time with Thorn performing a flip up into the air to land perfectly on Zorn's shoulders. The shock should have at least jarred Zorn's hands out of position, and yet they continued to play, Thorn leaning over Zorn's shoulder to play his part on the piano, the two moving away from each other in time for the contradicting melodies, then moving back together again to rejoin the song as it once had been.
At a slight pause in the song, Zorn ducked his head, and Thorn rolled off to one side, catching himself in a dramatic fashion on the edge of the piano, while Zorn mirrored his motion perfectly. They again moved back into the song with ease, continuing to play.
The song moved into an energetic finale, in which they began to leap and roll back and forth so quickly that it was hard to see them, and the music continued onwards, unbroken. The song finally ended with a double flourish at either side of the piano, and the two flipping off the piano bench at diagonals, nearly striking eachother, but landing perfectly next to one another, their hands crossing in the air as they held their arms up, their narrow chests gasping for breath.
The applause was thunderous. Vincent even stood up and clapped, having been thoroughly amazed and moved by their performance. He wasn't the only one. Zorn and Thorn actually smiled, seemingly genuinely happy that their performance had gone over so well, and they made their way off the stage, still breathing heavily.
"Wow." Zidane took the center stage again, clapping himself. "Just wow. They've got some major talent, don't you think? Okay, here's the part we've been waiting for. Now you're going to decide who deserves the two hundred gil prize! I'll read off the act and the participants, and you clap according to how much you think they deserve the award."
The pile of cards once again seemed to appear in Zidane's hand, and he read them off slowly.
"Mukki and his Manly Tumbling!"
There was some applause to this, but Vincent hadn't expected a great deal of support anyway.
"Zangan, Tifa, Sabin, and Yang's martial arts!"
There was a great deal of applause for this, but Vincent decided to reserve his applause for someone he felt truly deserved it.
"Freya and the Eternal Harvest!"
There was clapping for her, more so then for Mukki but not more then the four martial artists, and Vincent felt relieved. He had hoped that she would get the recognition she deserved for such a skillful display. Vincent kept his hands at his sides, however.
"Celes and the Aria de Mezzo Carattere!"
The crowd clapped very loudly for Celes, more so then for anyone else so far, and Vincent felt it was justified. But he didn't want to clap, not just yet.
"Quina, Quale, and Quan in the Iron Qu competition!"
They also got applause, but it matched the amount Mukki and his friends had got.
"Kain and Cecil's Duel for Rosa!"
There was clapping for this, but it wasn't too enthusiastic, going along with the Iron Qu's and the Manly Tumbling.
"Locke and the secret arts!"
There was a great deal of clapping for this, a little less then the Martial Arts display.
"Cid and Reeve and the @#%hole song!"
There was a lot of clapping for this, matching the Martial Arts display, but so far no one had surpassed Celes' Aria. Vincent continued to keep his hands near his sides.
"Mog and the Elemental Dances!"
Vincent was tempted to clap, but he finally refrained. The clapping for this was was very much, but it still did not meet up with Celes' Aria.
Zidane smiled. "And finally...Zorn and Thorn and the Jesters of the Moon!"
Vincent finally let himself clap. The applause for this finally matched up with the Aria, and the competition was very fierce. Zidane motioned for the crowd to be silent.
"Alright, since there's a tie between Celes and Zorn and Thorn, we'll have a tie-breaking round, alright? If you want Celes..."
The audience again clapped and cheered loudly.
"And if you want Zorn and Thorn..."
Vincent clapped along with the others who joined him, cheering and waving. Zidane looked torn.
"This is a tough decision here guys...but I'm going to have to say..."
He held up a hand. "That the prize goes to Celes Chere! Come out here, Celes!"
The woman came out from behind the curtains, walking towards Zidane with a purpose. Zidane turned to the crowd.
"You'll also get a trophy to commemorate the...hey!" Celes snatched the microphone out of Zidane's hand and began speaking earnestly.
"I, Celes Chere, am hereby relinquishing my title and my prize to Zorn and Thorn. They deserve it far more then I do, and have much more use for it."
She gave the microphone back to Zidane, who took it in bewilderment. The crowd went insane.
It took several minutes for everyone to quiet down until Zidane could be heard. "Um...are you sure?"
Celes nodded.
"Alright then." Zidane shrugged. "Zorn and Thorn, would you come out here please?"
In complete contradiction to the fearless confidence they had exuded while playing their piece on the piano, the diminuitive twins poked their heads out from behind the curtain, looking frightened and embarrassed. Celes gestured to them.
"Come on, come on. You deserve this."
The two of them made their way to the podium amidst thunderous applause, Vincent clapping as much as the rest of them. Zorn and Thorn stood awkwardly, both of them blushing although it was obvious they were trying not to.
Zidane reached into the podium and pulled out a small silver trophy, handing it to Zorn who took it in confusion. "Here you go, guys! Enjoy!"
Both Zorn and Thorn mumbled something incoherent underneath their breaths, looking shaky but very happy. Zidane handed them the microphone. "Here, you guys say something."
Zorn took it, his hands shaking terribly. "U...um..." He turned towards Celes, who was smiling down at them. "Th-thank you...this r-really helps us..."
"Thorn?" Celes gestured towards the red jester twin, who shook his head in embarrassment and hid behind his brother. Zorn rolled the microphone between his fingers nervously.
"H-he's fine, he doesn't like t-talking in front of other people..."
Zidane finally dug out a slip of white paper which he gave to the twins, extending a hand for the microphone which Zorn surrendered willingly. "Here's your check guys, don't spend it all in one place!"
Zorn and Thorn nodded, and Vincent clapped for them again, glad that they had won. When Zorn turned to face his brother, he found him rubbing his eyes, crying. When he finally removed his hands, tears continued to slide down his skin, but the expression on his face showed he was anything but sad.
The two of them made their way off the stage amidst the applause of everyone in the audience, who clapped for them even after they had left. Celes waved and made her way off stage as well, also amidst a great deal of clapping.
Zidane finally took the stage, wiping away a mock tear as he sighed. "Really warms your heart, doesn't it? This really brings out the best in people. Thanks for coming to the Talent Show, and thanks to everyone who participated. Come again next year!"
Zidane waved as people began to get up and leave, chattering amongst themselves over what had just happened. Vincent himself felt extremely good, knowing that the money had gone to someone who really needed and wanted it, and he was happy to know that Celes was one of the very few good people left in the world.
He headed outside, taking a seat on a bench and waiting before he knew Cid and Reeve would emerge.
Cid was the first to find him, smiling. He slowed as he approached Vincent, Reeve close behind him with the guitar strapped to his back. "Hey."
"Hey." Vincent smiled back at him. With that, all the bad feelings that had built between them melted away, and Vincent felt happy again.
"Sorry about..."
"Don't worry about it."
Cid sat next to Vincent on the bench, smiling as Reeve took his other side.
"Wasn't that cool or what?" Reeve smiled broadly. "I feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
"So do I." Vincent leaned his arms on his knees and smiled, catching a glimpse of the jester twins walking off with their trophy in tow, Zorn lending Thorn support, who apparently still couldn't believe what had happened. He smiled. "So do I."
The three companions sat on the bench for a while, just enjoying the warm night air and afterglow of such a happy and fun-filled time. Vincent started as he suddenly remembered something.
"Highwind, what happened to your crutches?"
Cid blinked for a few moments, then he shrugged carelessly and waved a hand in someone's general direction. "Eh, I don't need no #$^#in' crutches, I'm fine..."
Vincent glanced down at Cid's feet, which were hidden from view by his shoes. He felt some misgivings and stared at Cid intently. "Are you sure? Because the nurse said..."
"Ah, #$^# what th' nurse said." Cid waved again. "M'feet are fine, don't worry 'bout it. They stung a bit yesterday, an' then today..." Cid threw his arms in the air. "Pow! Perfect feet!"
Vincent smiled softly as Reeve began laughing. "Feet don't go 'pow'."
Cid stood, wincing slightly as the customary dizzy spell hit him. He refused to show almost any outward sign of it though, but Vincent could see by his unfocused eyes that he was having difficulty. It passed quickly, and Cid acted as if nothing had happened, putting his hands in his pockets as he smiled at Vincent, leaning back on his heels without any pain. He truly must have felt better to be able to do such a thing.
"#$^#, Vin, you must got some freak-feet or somethin'. How 'bout you, catface, do your feet go POW!?" Cid shouted his last word, garnering some attention from people still leaving the theater.
Reeve rolled his eyes and played along. "Of COURSE, spazbrain, my feet go pow ALL the time. I can barely control it."
Cid smiled broadly and held his arms out, his eyes shining. Vincent noticed the change in his behavior...apparely getting the entire argument out of the way had really taken a lot off of Cid's mind.
"Well c'mon, let's go do somethin' before they go POW again!" Cid shouted once more. Vincent brushed himself off and stood, turning to see if Reeve was following his movements, which he was.
"What do you want to do?"
Cid looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping his chin with one finger. "Hmmmm..."
"Let's go back to my room." Reeve volunteered. "I bet Moog'll love company."
"Sounds good to me!" Cid spoke before Vincent opened his mouth and began walking, causing Vincent to shake his head and smile slightly again. "Let's go!"

~~~

The weekend passed without much incident, which was a great relief to Cid and Vincent, whose lives had become overly complicated as it was. They spent most of their time in Reeve's room, watching movies and TV and just having a good time. There hadn't been homework for any of them yet, which meant it would probably be the last time they had a worry-free weekend in a while.
Moog joined in with them when they watched TV or played games, so Vincent didn't feel guilty about leaving him out or anything of that nature. Vincent tried to became friends with Moog, who seemed to appreciate his efforts. The large silent boy reminded him so much of Mog and when he asked him about it, Moog shrugged enigmatically. So Vincent let the matter drop.
While there, he found while playing one of Reeve's many video game systems that he had an unnatural talent for shooting games, and his aim was remarkable. He was surprised that he was able to play games at all, considering his left arm, and at first had tried to talk his way out of playing with them, but the rest of them managed to convince him to at least try, and he found that his claw arm wasn't too big of an inconvenience. Vincent wasn't the best player there, Cid and Reeve far surpassing him, but he enjoyed playing with them anyway.
When Vincent did return to his room, Cloud was never there. He would see signs of him, like his bag or books or clothes he had left on the floor, but he never actually saw him. He noted new messages on his answering machine, which were from Cloud's parents. He stopped them once he found out they weren't for him, not wanting to intrude on his privacy, but he had no doubt as to what the calls would be about.
When Sunday came, Vincent and Cid opted to return back to Vincent's room, waving goodbye to Reeve and Moog who were somewhat sorry to see them go. Vincent and Cid hadn't wanted to leave either, having spent such a worry-free time there, but knew they had to at some point.
Once in Vincent's room, Vincent almost automatically turned the TV on, and Cid began to play a cup-and-ball toy he had bought on impulse while the four had been wandering around town. Cid propped himself up on a chair, his feet on Vincent's desk, as he distractedly played with the toy he had bought himself. Vincent flipped to a random channel, not really watching but prefering the background to be filled with noise, no matter what it happened to be.
"Think th' group'll be full of wackos?" Cid asked as Vincent had just settled, the remote resting next to him. Vincent turned to face him.
"Hmm?"
Cid rolled his eyes as if there was no reason on earth that Vincent should have misheard him. "Th' drug group we $^@#in' have to go to. Think it'll be full of crazies?"
Vincent smiled slightly, but tried to hide it. "They aren't crazy."
"Suuuuure they are!" Cid smiled and tossed his hands in the air, disrupting his own game as he gestured extravagantly. "They're aaaaalll crazy. And they're comin' for yoooooouuuu." Cid waved his hands at Vincent in a bizarre way, which caused Vincent to laugh quietly for a few moments, his hand over his mouth.
"They are not, stop that."
"But seriously..." Cid resumed playing his cup and ball game, the previous overzealous expression disappearing into a more natural smile. "Think they'll be crazy?"
Vincent smiled as he changed the channel, not really watching, his voice soft but level. "If you mean, do I think they'll be nice, then I suppose so. I can't say, though, because I don't know anyone else who's going, except Strife."
"Hmmm..." Cid continued playing for a few moments before speaking, his voice lacking the carefree tone it had before. Vincent glanced at him to find him staring at the cup and ball, but not because that was what was focusing his attention. He seemed slightly distracted, no doubt quite worried about what was going to happen the next day. Vincent himself felt worried but decided not to mention it. "Hope they're not crazy."
The ball finally landed in the cup, and Vincent flicked the channel once again, sighing slightly. "I hope so as well, Highwind..."

~~~

Cid left earlier that evening, knowing they both had classes the next day, and Vincent went to sleep shortly after that, slipping into a dreamless sleep, something that he was thankful for. He had been growing weary of the constant nightmares that had come night after night.
The next day found him standing in the center of his room early in the morning, staring at a slip of paper held with his metallic claw, pinpoint tips holding onto the slip of paper with practiced skill. The other hand was held to his lips as he mumbled to himself. "Arrowny said that class was being moved to eight in the morning...but my schedule says that it's later this afternoon..."
Vincent was tired and he didn't want to go to his class, but he shouldered his bag in annoyance and sighed. "Doesn't hurt to check..."
As he walked back to his desk to get his walkman, he chanced a glance over at Cloud's side of the room, finding the blonde still asleep. He must have come in some time last night. He felt a slight tinge of jealousy that Cloud didn't have to get up at such an ungodly hour to go to such an annoying class.
Shrugging, Vincent put the walkman into one of his large pockets and put his headphones on, turning up the volume as he left his room, closing the door behind him. He tried to keep his thoughts away from what he'd have to deal with later tonight, and decided that he was going to focus more on the day itself then what was going to come.
Thankfully, he had left his overly heavy and bulky toolkit at the Art building, so he wouldn't have to drag that along with him as he walked the distance from his dorm to the class. With the music on, the time went quickly, and he opened the door to his classroom, greeted by the sight of no one there.
Giving a very long, deep sigh, Vincent turned on the dormant lights and found a desk near the corner, complete with easel, which he headed for immediately. He dropped his backpack and leaned back, regaining his breath as he stared around the deserted room.
He didn't see any signs of any other people...no backpacks or papers or anything...maybe he HAD been wrong, and the class really WAS later on this afternoon...
Well, considering he didn't have anything else to go to in the morning, he decided it wouldn't hurt to wait for a while. Maybe he was just early.
He pulled his sketchbook from his backpack and let his pencil wander, mostly creating characters from Cid's stories that seemed to have taken up a great part of his mind. He leaned his head against his hand, music playing in his ears, as he drew small skeletal figures around the page, performing various activities. He smiled as he could recognize Cid rendered in his style singing, along with Reeve, with his thin pointed ears and whiplike tail. He smiled at his drawings for once, remembering what Highwind had said what seemed like so long ago, that his drawings were really good. He liked how his drawings were coming out, the proportions and the shading, the style and the like. He was actually pleased with his work for once, and that gave him a nice feeling.
He chanced a glance upward and found that several people had entered the room while he had been unaware, leaving their materials and the like around them. Vincent watched them for a few moments, recognizing the girl known as Rinoa among them. He sat in silence for a few moments, not sure of whether or not he should take off his headphones or turn his music off, then decided to leave them on until Relm herself showed up.
He changed his position in the chair so that he could draw and see the rest of the room at the same time and continued to let his pencil wander as more people filed into the room.
He noticed several figures that resembled people he had seen in the talent show and he smiled. In particular the skeletal but small figures in the corner, both with matching jester hats set above thin faces. He wondered what Zorn and Thorn were doing, as he had not seen them since the show last Friday.
He paused in the middle of a drawing of Mog, expanding to fill the piece of paper with thin, delicate fingers and the perfect capture of motion in the middle of his dance, as he noticed Relm walking in, her hair still tied back with the bandanna she had been wearing originally. Sighing imperceptibly, he turned the volume on his headphones down, then finally stopped his music, turning his eyes towards her.
"Thank you for dealing with the schedule change so well." She placed her materials on her desk, and Vincent turned his attention back to his sketchbook, theorizing that if he could hear her, he didn't need to see her. "It was rather unplanned, but I'm glad everyone was able to handle it...Vincent."
Vincent jerked as he heard his name called, turning his head in her direction rapidly. She was staring at him with an displeased look on her face.
"I would like to have your full attention, if that's alright with you."
Vincent sighed softly and turned in his seat until he was seated properly, putting his pad of paper back onto the desk.
"Ahem..." She cleared her throat, her eyes still boring into him. Vincent continued to stare at her quizzically. If she wanted him to do something, then why didn't she just say so? Everyone in the class was staring at him at this point, and some of them wore the same expression she was wearing. Vincent felt very uncomfortable, glad he had decided to wear a long-sleeved shirt that would be able to hide his metallic claw. He tugged at his sleeve distractedly, waiting for her to say something. Her voice was tired.
"Vincent, would you please show me enough respect to at least take off your headphones?"
Vincent started, suddenly remembering the small things in his ears, and his hand flew upwards, knocking the headphones onto his shoulders, the cord snaking around his neck. She stared at him with mild displeasure for a few moments, then turned to the rest of the class. Vincent noted that some of the other students looked just as offended as he did, and he began to feel slightly angry. He wasn't directly interrupting THEM, was he? They had no right to be upset at him.
"Now that that's been taken care of, I'd like to give you all your latest project."
Vincent hoped it would be more interesting then the first one he had got, which was to draw three pictures in a book that had been provided for the class. With another start, he realized that he had not done the pictures, and he turned to his backpack, pulling the book out from its depths and grabbing his pencil, wondering if she would notice him drawing furiously.
Luckily for him, at the moment she seemed somewhat distracted with speaking to the rest of the class. He drew quickly, not even bothering to erase as the skeletal form a demon took shape on the piece of paper, wings expanding above it, blocking out the rest of the white. Vincent didn't bother to try and shade it completely, scribbling over it to indicate darkness quickly as he turned the page.
"We will be focusing on the idea of black and white for a while. I'm going to set up a series of objects in the center of the room that you will study." She gestured to a corner, where several objects were stored. "Using your charcoals, you will draw the objects with as much contrast as possible."
Vincent finished a sketch of one of Cid's characters, turning the page once again. His drawings were getting big and sharp, points ending and overlapping in his haste. He hated having to rush like this, but he had no other choice.
"If you're all paying attention..."
Her voice caused his pencil to go faster. He noted with a sharp stab of annoyance a large error he had made, but he didn't have the time to go back and correct it. Finishing quickly, he fairly slammed the book shut as he looked upwards, noting Relm's and the rest of the class's eyes on him. Feeling awkward, he slid the book back into his backpack, trying to feign nonchalance.
"We may begin. I need some volunteers to help me move the objects around..."
Several people stood, and Relm began to direct them to pick up various objects, setting them up in the center of the room. Vincent watched quietly, but he caught the people helping shooting him glances. Vincent again felt somewhat angry. Were they upset because he wasn't helping? It was obvious there were enough people to perform the task required without his help. He crossed his arms, refusing to feel guilty for something he didn't need to do anyway.
Eventually, the construct in the center of the room resembled a platform of sorts made of cubes that had only edges, no substance between the lines that defined them. Draped across several of these skeleton cubes were sheets of fabric of varied textures, and there were various light sources attached to cubes, providing the thing in the center of the room with several contradicting forms of light.
Vincent stared at it for a moment, sighing as he looked at the incredible amount of detail that he'd have to put into it.
"Get some paper out of your portfolio, there should be some in there." Relm was doing small touchups on the pile of cubes in the center of the room. "Your charcoal should be in your box."
Vincent sighed and stood, going to where he had stored his portfolio and his toolbox. He had stored them in one of the lockers nearby, using one of the locks he had brought from home. He unlocked the locker, grabbed the two bulky objects, and returned to his seat, pulling out the sheet of paper and setting it up on the easel. He then opened his box, finding almost all the supplies inside jumbled from the harsh treatment they had had getting to the art building in general. He searched through it until he found a small box containing four charcoal sticks.
"The sticks are in the box according to their hardness." Relm pointed out as she sat back down. "The softer the charcoal, the broader and softer the stroke. It goes softest, soft, hard, hardest."
Vincent pulled the small set of sticks out, staring at them in mild confusion. There was no identifying marks on the sticks, just simply four identical chunks of charcoal, lined up in a row with no kind of marks or labels. Shrugging, Vincent picked the first one he saw and put the rest in his box, lifting his hand towards the paper he had set up.
The charcoal stick slipped from his fingers, falling towards the floor. Vincent grabbed for it quickly, but it slipped past his grasp and hit the floor with a loud crack, fracturing into three different pieces. He glanced up to notice Relm staring at him with disapproval, and he quickly gathered the broken pieces, putting the smaller chunks back in his box, thus leaving him with one about half the size as it was previously.
"Remember to be careful with your supplies, class. They're your best friend when it comes to art." Relm shot a glance at him as she spoke, and she wasn't the only one. Vincent sighed deeply and felt a sharp rise in cynicism rising in him to deal with his unhappiness. Wisely deciding that it would be better to keep it inside, he began to work, sketching out the cubes with quick, broken strokes.
He outlined where the cubes would go, then where the drapery would go over them. Noting a mistake, he nearly flipped the charcoal piece over in an attempt to erase it before he realized it had no eraser. He turned towards Relm, who was watching his progress with a steadily increasing frown. She spoke before he even ventured to ask. "There should be a piece of chamois in your boxes that will let you erase or blend your work."
Vincent turned to his box, finding the fabric easily. It was smooth and felt nice on his skin, but he quickly rubbed at the mistake he had made, finding to his dismay that it only blurred. Annoyed, but not sure of what else to do, he simply worked around it, continuing to block out the structure carefully.
"Remember, in order to have the correct proportions for your work to sight." Relm took a pencil from her desk, holding it up as an example. Vincent watched with confusion as she closed one eye and held the pencil out at arms length, exactly as he had seen every stereotypical caricature of an artist do. "Use the length of the pencil to gauge how long a line is, and what angle it goes at."
Everyone else in the class immediately began to do so, but Vincent found the entire process somewhat unnecessary. He could see how long a line was from where he was fine, without closing his eyes and looking stupid. Noting everyone staring at him, however, he sighed and acquiesced, holding out his right hand at an awkward angle, crossing it over his chest in order to sight correctly.
"No, Vincent." Hearing his name again made him wince, wondering what he had done wrong this time. "You have to use the hand closest to your subject."
Vincent rolled his eyes to himself and sighed, pushing his sleeve over his claw, holding onto the charcoal stick so that the metal was completely hidden, holding it out and pretending to sight before returning it back to his side. She noted his odd behavior, but thankfully decided not to comment on it.
Vincent, having blocked in the majority of the picture, began to shade it as well. This became rather engrossing for him, and he worked and blurred as best he could, trying to get the textures correct. The drapery proved to cause the most trouble for him, absolutely refusing to look anything like any cloth he had ever seen. He was getting frustrated, and he tried not to take it out on his drawing, although he noted his fingers turning an dark shade of black from his extended exposure to the charcoal stick. He even tried using the other sticks, but he had lost track of which way went soft and which way went soft, so he randomly chose one and tried it. They all seemed to work the same to him, and he began to wonder whether or not he was just unobservant or he just couldn't tell the difference.
The time in the class this way passed quickly, Relm occasionally walking around and giving advice to people who were still trying to set the angles of the cubes right. Vincent began to wonder if maybe he was going too fast, or maybe he had done it wrong. No one else was as far along as he was...
He was beginning to hope that maybe he'd get through the rest of the class without incident, but he was never so lucky. Near the end of class, he was kneeling in close, smudging and working hard in order to make the fabric appear more real, and he felt a presence near him. He jumped as Relm held up a hand.
"It's only me."
Vincent nodded and, not sure of what he should do, leaned back so that she could see what he had done so far. She studied his work for a while, not saying anything. Vincent began to hope that maybe he had completed the assignment successfully, but she began to speak before his hopes could truly even take flight.
"This line here..." She pointed at one of the edges of the cubes near the corner. "It's somewhat crooked...did you sight it?"
Vincent felt a huge sigh want to escape him, but refused to let it out. His response sounded more cynical and sarcastic then he originally intended. He didn't feel like saying that he hadn't done it, so opted for the easy way out. "Of course I sighted it."
"This line here..." She pointed at another area of the work. "It's also kind of crooked. I'm confused as to where your light source is here..." She pointed at another area. "It's very confusing. There's a great deal of black and grey, but I don't see enough white. You need to have more contrast."
Vincent stared at his work with distaste. He had gotten tired of working on this thing when he had put down his first line, and now he had to keep working on it? And how was he supposed to make more white areas? This was charcoal, and he had learned the hard way that it was almost impossible to make a white area white again once the black had been rubbed against it. He sighed imperceptibly, wondering how long until the class would be over.
"This line here is too sharp as well...it IS fabric, it needs to be softer. Not so angular." She gestured towards the work. "You've got to show a little more dedication to your work."
Vincent narrowed his eyes, disgust filling him. How could he be dedicated to something he didn't care about? He was planning on throwing away this horrific piece of "art" as soon as the day was over. She turned to the rest of the class, holding her arms out wide.
"The projects will be due on Wednesday, so be sure to finish them by then. See you then."
The rest of the students packed up their belongings, Vincent among them, glad that the class was finally over.
When he went to the sink to wash the black away from his fingers, he found it wouldn't come off. Severely annoyed, he was forced to roll his long sleeves up above the metal attached to his arm, revealing the entire golden metallic claw, something he hated. He rubbed at his fingers as best he could with his ineffectual claws, glad the metal was waterproof, but the black stayed. He rubbed some soap on it and continued to scrub, not wanting any traces of his art class to follow him, wanting to forget the aggravating part of his day as fast as possible.
He noted someone behind him, and he turned slightly, seeing the familiar blue and black that indicated the girl Rinoa. She had her hands behind her back, and she was looking over Vincent's shoulder with interest, watching his movements without saying anything.
Vincent did not have the patience for this.
"What are you staring at?" His voice was venemous and low. Rinoa didn't seem to notice or care, pointing with clean fingers at his metallic claw. Instead of the normal embarrassment and shame he felt when his deformity was mentioned, Vincent only felt hatred.
"Where'd you get that?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." Vincent's reply was very short, and he returned his attention back to his hand, which was turning somewhat red from all the rubbing it had endured, but kept the black stains. He was getting more frustrated and more upset with each moment, and was just hoping that Rinoa would take the hint and leave him alone.
"Is it symbolic or something?"
Vincent stopped for a moment to stare at her in utter disbelief. She looked genuinely curious, her arms back behind her back. She was leaning forward, eyes blinking at him in fascination. "I mean, does it stand for something? Like your unity with some country that's suffering or something? Or does it stand for something that happened to you or for how you feel? I'm just curious, it looks like you spent a lot of time on it. It's really nice."
Vincent stared at her in complete silence for several moments, unbelieving, as the expression in his eyes changed from bewilderment to fury in a few moments. He shook his hand and claw dry, not wanting to bother with drying them with a paper towel, and walked away without a word, fuming.
"Hey, wait! I just want to know! Come on!" Rinoa called after him, but Vincent ignored her, moving towards his desk and grabbing his backpack in one angry motion, swinging it onto his back.
He had forgotten that his backpack was open.
He heard the crash, but more then that he knew it was coming from the sudden shift in weight when he had felt the bag hit his back. His books struck his easel forcefully, knocking it and all the things that had been resting on it to the ground with a clatter, papers flying everywhere. There was a pause, then Vincent turned slowly, putting his backpack down with deliberate motions and slowly, mechanically, began to pick up the spilt pieces of paper, his body trembling with his attempts to control his emotions.
He had never felt so angry or so frustrated, but he struggled to clear his mind, trying to keep himself under control. This was hardly the time or place to have an emotional outburst. He slid his sketchbook back into his backpack, along with the book that he was required to draw in for this class. He slowly moved around the room, picking up the papers with quick snatching motions, noting that either everyone had left, or no one felt like helping him.
He felt so furious, so angry. He crumpled one of his papers in his claw, trying to vent in some way. He felt a strong pain coming from his back, and he could not believe his terrible luck. Not only did he have to deal with this, his back had begun to hurt for no apparent reason.
He continued to walk around the room, picking up the pieces of paper that had fallen, adding them to the pile that was building in his arms. He made his way slowly back to his backpack, stuffing the papers in without any pretense of care. He would sort it all out later when he wasn't so upset.
He felt something tap his side and he whirled around, breathing quickly, muscles tensed, his body screaming at him to do something to relieve his tension.
Rinoa was holding out some of the books he had missed, still looking oblivious. She smiled at him. "I could have told you that was going to happen you know."
Vincent narrowed his eyes into slits as he fairly tore the books from her grasp, thrusting them into his backpack with a furious motion, ignoring the crumpling sound from the papers that he had placed so haphazardly inside. He refused to speak, counting within his mind in an effort to keep himself under control.
Ten...nine...
Rinoa busied herself setting Vincent's easel back up on it's legs, brushing it off carefully before turning back to Vincent, who was pushing the last of his books into his bag.
"Are you going to talk to me?"
Eight...seven...
Vincent tried to keep his breathing regular. His back was aching now, stabbing pains right at his shoulderblades. He had to keep calm, he couldn't blow up here, not now. He had to keep himself under control.
"I just want to know why you're hiding your hand. I mean, is it a symbol of how society ties someone up? You know, takes their freedoms away?" Rinoa leaned over him, her hands again behind her back.
Six...five...
"Or is it like a symbol about how you're distanced from everyone? 'Cause you're really quiet, so that might be it."
Four...three...
He was almost done. He zipped up his bag securely this time and hefted it onto his back, turning away from Rinoa without an answer, trying to keep the rising tide of anger at bay.
"Or maybe is it about your family? Or college?" Rinoa stood, brushing herself off before trying to make eye contact with him again. Vincent was stubbornly refusing to meet eyes with her as he struggled to control his breathing. "Or is it some kind of vampire thing? You know, the whole goth scene and whatever? 'Cause you really look like the type to be into that kind of thing, really..."
Two...one...
"I'm just curious, you know." Vincent walked towards the door with quick, fast steps, his hand already on the doorknob as he could hear her following him, still talking. "You're just so quiet. I just want to talk to you, you know. I mean, anyone who wears a claw as an artists statement must be pretty cool, right? Not to mention I think your drawings were really pretty good. Can I see some-"
Vincent turned for a moment, holding the door open with one hand as he glared at her, struggling to keep his temper. This was enough to stop her for a few seconds, apparently sensing that he was finally going to say something. He held his breath for a few seconds, closed his eyes, and finally spoke.
"Don't talk to me. Ever."
He slammed the door shut, not bothering to see the look on her face, as he stormed down the hallway, his metal claw clenching uncontrollably. He could hear the door opening behind him, and he almost began running, not wanting to deal with her for another moment.
"Meanie!"
He could hear her voice calling after him, and he ignored it, rolling his eyes as he took deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down, deciding to head to the dining hall for a snack before heading to his next class, needing a place where he could collect his thoughts after such a horrific experience.

~~~

"Highwind, this is NOT what was assigned."
Cid rolled his eyes, sliding down further into his chair as he crossed his arms, muttering under his breath.
"#$%@in' can't appreciate..."
His professor put down the offending paper on Cid's desk, apparently getting angrier at Cid's lack of submission. "I don't understand how you plan on succeeding in life if you can't follow simple instructions."
Cid glared at the professor, his eyes almost hidden underneath small spikes that protruded from behind his goggles band. "I wrote you a #$^#in' paper, ain't that enough for you?"
The professor sighed again, crossing his arms and staring down at Cid with the same condescending look that Cid had learned to hate through his life. All teachers had that look. "I asked for a short summary of the events that have made you who you are today, and instead you give me this. This does not fulfill the requirements."
Cid kept his arms crossed, struggling to keep his voice under control. "It IS my god#$%@ life, but it's told a different way."
His professor sighed, his voice easily showing his quickly fraying patience. "You mind your language while in this class, Highwind. This story has nothing to do with who you are, what you're doing, or what brought you here."
"It has everythin' t'do with how I got here!" Cid slammed a fist down on the desk furiously, trying to keep the all-too familiar obscenities from his speech. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the class on him, which only fueled his indignation.
"Highwind, this is supposed to be a story about YOU, not someone who vaguely resembles you in some fantasy dimension!"
Cid was about to rise up and respond, but the professor turned away from him. "This conversation is over, and if you want to discuss it further with me, meet with me after class."
Cid clenched his fists until his fingers hurt, slumping back into his seat with multiple muttered words under his breath. "Old #$^#er..."
He hated writing classes, they were all the same. Go a little away from the assignment, try something new, and they jumped all over you. They always claimed to value creativity, but submit something that was REALLY creative, and they said you didn't follow the rules. As it was he managed to get the writing class who had a total #$^# for a teacher, and it just figured considering Cid's luck. He loved creative writing, but all his creative writing classes had been about anything but that. Fortunately his parents weren't aware of how he loved to write at all, therefore he didn't get signed up into one of the even more obnoxious weekend classes or something along those lines. He hated the entire concept of weekend classes, believing that weekends were HIS time to be spent how HE wanted, not being dragged to some class that was supposed to make his writing "better". He harbored a deep resentment towards writing classes for that very concept of making you be able to write "better", and he always resisted what they said or taught vehemently, refusing to absorb or accept anything they presented to him. This enfuriated his teachers to no end, and Cid replied in kind.
He had gotten his ability to write from the books he had read and the things he had learned, not from writing papers on preassigned topics. He chose books that he liked, books that he found were a challenge, books that he felt had a message, and he always avoided the classics, finding them to be far too over-hyped. He read voraciously when he was younger, and still did to this day. When he let his imagination wander, he found all the things he had picked up from the different authors that he read and liked beginning to show through, and he had practiced as much as possible, his skill only improving with time. Not with writing classes.
All of his writing classes had always been abysmal, and he hated structured writing, particularly essays. There was nothing more soulless to him then an essay, a vague, spineless paper performed and executed to such particular guidelines about such a particular topic, touching on particular points, and if you didn't follow the guidelines correctly, you failed. Cid narrowed his eyes with the memory of one of his papers on one of the "star-crossed lovers" stories he had been forced to read in one of his english classes once where he had wrote supporting their death, saying they were better off that way. That had got him not only a failing grade, but several meetings with the school counselor.
He hated having to mask how he felt through carefully worded opinions that wouldn't go against what the teacher was teaching. He hated having to pretend to go along with everyone else. He believed in his opinions and felt they had a right to be heard, and he hated writing classes for muffling not only that, but his entire talent by constricting it to such a small, confined allowed area.
He hated writing classes.
Cid breathed quickly, trying to control his temper. He hated this class, just as he had hated all of his previous writing classes, and he wished for nothing more then to have a cigarette in his mouth, just for the ability to blow smoke in the face of Prof. Tellah.
"Now, would someone would like to read their paper that followed the assignment properly?"
Cid slumped over his desk angrily, unable to do anything to vent his anger, as someone else read their cookie-cutter story of how their one role-model, some coach or their brother or something equally trite, was enough to give them the impetus they needed to get into the college of their dreams. The stories were old, and they bored Cid. He was tired of hearing about people getting influence and guidance from the older generation. The Older Generation hadn't given Cid #$^#, and he had no god#^#@ older brother to lead the way for him, no sports coach to make him "push himself". He hated those kind of stories, and he preferred it when people were able to support themselves, were able to make their way into college not because of someone else "pushing" them, but because they actually DESIRED to go there.
But no, not a single one of the stories had any of that kind of element in them. Frustrated, Cid took a pencil and tried to sketch something on the piece of paper that was under his arms, but it only took a few lines for him to erase it angrily. He wished he could draw like Vincent could, to be able to put his ideas into visible form. He envied his friend for that, just as he envied all artists. He envied how they could just envision something and have it at their fingertips. He wished he had that ability, but it seemed that his skill forever lied in the written word, not the visible line. He had tried for so long to culminate some kind of artistic ability, but it seemed just not to be.
Unable to vent himself in that way, he dug a pen out of his backpack and pulled a dark blue book from his bag. He flipped it to a blank page, bypassing several pages filled with his heavy, dark writing, and began to write, ignoring the droning voices of the people around him.
"Eiyon was surrounded as it were, trapped in a cave. He should have watched where he was going, but that wasn't the utmost concern on his mind at the moment...he was more curious as to where Lzyndr had gone, considering he hadn't seen the other male for a few days. He heard rumors that the other had gone in this direction, but he hadn't anticipated there being large holes along the way. As it was, the air around him was getting stifling, and it was beginning to get hard to breathe..."
He noted, just as he was getting into it, a silence pervading the previous all encompassing noise that had been filling his ears.
"#$^#..." He whispered under his breath, knowing what that meant. He had done this before, several times in various classes when he got bored. When he felt like writing, he vanished, entered the world that he so longed to occupy, and this meant that his awareness of the world that was around him in reality vanished. This meant he had had several unpleasant things happen to him because of this, including but not limited to having his book snatched away, having the entire class stare at him, or having the teacher yell at him after class for quite some time.
This seemed to be turning out into one of the "Hey everyone! Let's stare at the guy who's being different!" deals, and he was beginning to hate those kind of situations the most.
He turned his head upwards to find, just as he had suspected, every eye on the room on it. Deciding to make the most of it, he made an elaborate flourish on the last word in his unfinished sentence before dropping the pen back into his book, closing it with exaggeratedly delicate and flamboyant movements.
He finally put his head in his hands and stared at Prof. Tellah who did not look amused with his antics. The biting sarcasm in Cid's voice was painfully evident. "So sorry to interrupt."
"Highwind, you will speak with me after class."
Cid rolled his eyes, causing Prof. Tellah to seethe even more, turning back to the blackboard. "I would suggest taking a less flippant attitude with your studies as well."
Cid moved his hand in a mockery of Prof. Tellah talking while the old man's back was turned, mumbling under his breath. "Blah blah, watch me pull #@#$ out of my #@$, blah blah, do what I say AND what I do, blah blah..."
Prof. Tellah turned around to find the blonde teenager staring studiously at the book he had assigned on his desk, a smile playing around his lips. "I'm not deaf, Highwind, I CAN hear you."
Cid looked up at him, large blue eyes innocent as he put a hand on his chest, looking around. "Who me? I don't know what you're talkin' about."
If Cid had some friends who were goading him on, or was sitting in the back, Tellah would have moved him in an effort to prove his authority, but as it was, Cid sat in the front, hands folded on his desk as he smiled pleasantly at the Professor, which only served to anger the man more. "Your behavior WILL have repurcussions, you realize, if you even know what that word means."
Cid narrowed his eyes at the insult to his intelligence, but managed to keep his voice light. "What, you mean the fancy word for 'consequences'? Oh dearie #$^#in' me, I ruined your little high-and-mighty routine by knowin' what that word meant! Shame on me!" Cid looked mock offended at himself.
The piece of chalk Tellah had been writing with fractured against the chalkboard as he turned slowly towards Cid, who cocked his head in a show of mock innocence.
"What's wrong, Tellah? A bit piqued? Flustered?" Cid smiled again. "Deeply disapproving of my youthful insolence?" He held his hands out, taking an exaggeratedly serious tone to his voice. "He stood, fingers quivering, nostrils flaring, facial muscles longing to express the inner fury at the young man's obvious grasp of the english language, territory he claimed to be HIS VERY OWN!"
"Highwind, you will wait outside until the class ends!" Tellah pointed towards the door, and Cid stood smoothly, the pain at such sudden movement hidden perfectly as he picked up his book, pen still trapped in its pages.
"That's what I've wanted to do this entire time."
As he walked by, he felt the book being torn from his grasp and he turned instinctively to reclaim it, finding it in Tellah's hands. Cid knew better then to attempt to get it back, only glaring at the old man who stared at him, face emotionless.
"Without your book."
Cid glared at him for a while, then finally shrugged, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Fine. I don't need it."
He opened the door wide and walked out, letting it close behind him while he shoved his hands in his pockets. He stood in the hallway for a moment, glancing down either direction. No one seemed to be around.
He seriously considered for a moment not waiting to find out what the consequences of his actions would be, but then he shrugged and walked over to the opposite wall, sitting down and waiting. He wanted to talk to him about his paper, after all, and he might as well do it now. He doubted with a type like Tellah that waiting a few days would increase his chances of getting a better grade any.
He smiled, remembering the furious look on the old man's face as he mocked him. It was so easy to tweak people like him, and he deserved it anyway for trying to lord over Cid like that. This wasn't highschool anymore, and the teachers no longer had the authority they had back then. Cid smiled again, remembering the many arguments and problems he had caused at his old school. Not that they had authority back then either, but here the professors had even less.
Well, at least after this class he'd get to meet up with Vincent again in Hojo's class, which made him wince. That was one guy that Cid didn't want to mess with. He could tell that Hojo was serious, very serious, and he had a feeling that his attempts to ridicule or mock him would be turned around and thrown back in his face...not to mention that Hojo already had a card he could play against him, and Cid had nothing. So he didn't want to go to that class, and part of it was fear. Hojo scared him, and he didn't know why. Probably because of what he did to Vincent...
Cid clenched his fists angrily at the thought of what had happened that day...Hojo had basically #$^#ed them over with just a few guided questions, and he had even got Vincent so upset as to #$^#in' cut his own god#$#@ arm. He hated him for that, but he didn't want to face him, not yet.
Cid sighed and let his hands fall to his sides, digging into one of the many pockets on his pants as he pulled out the cup and ball toy he had taken to carrying around with him, resigning himself to a long wait as he began to play.

~~~

"I do NOT appreciate such behavior in my class." Tellah was sitting at the other side of his desk, his hands clasped seriously in front of him. He had been ranting along these lines for some time, and frankly Cid was beginning to get bored. He struggled to keep the constant sarcastic and cynical responses that kept entering his head against his control at the old man's rambling under control. If he wanted a better grade on his paper, he had at least act a little respectful. "I don't like having my authority undermined, do you hear me?"
Cid wanted to respond with "You shouldn't let me undermine it in th' first place, #@%@er." but he decided against it. He instead just nodded, trying to look passive and nonconfrontational.
"Now, I AM willing to accept a rewrite of this paper, if you decide to actually complete the assignment instead of writing stories."
Cid narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
"I'll accept it tomorrow, no later. Be sure to bring it then, and be sure to follow the assignment criteria correctly."
Cid nodded, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling in response.
"And from now on, I expect much better behavior from you, you understand me?"
Cid nodded, trying to stop the bored look from appearing on his face. This guy never shut up. He must love to hear himself talk...no wonder that's why he was an english professor.
"Now, I'm considering whether or not I should even give this book back to you..." Tellah held up Cid's priceless book, which caught his attention immediately. "But I've decided that I should, provided that it never show up in my class again, or I'll confiscate it permanently."
Cid was fairly sure that Tellah couldn't inforce such a threat, but nodded anyway in mock understanding, reaching out for the book. Tellah relinquished it reluctantly, still looking displeased. He apparently hadn't expected Cid's lack of resistance after the display earlier.
Cid stood, the book being the only other thing he had wanted out of the conversation, and Tellah sighed slightly, knowing that was probably the best goodbye he'd get out of him.
"I don't want to have this conversation again."
Cid leaned back into the room for a moment, delivering one final, parting comment. "Yeah, neither do I."

~~~

When Cid entered Hojo's class later on, he headed directly for the back, noting on his way there the jester twins sitting off to one side also near the back. He didn't know Zorn and Thorn were in this class as well. He waved to them for a moment, and they stared at him in confusion, which didn't surprise him. He barely knew them, after all.
Vincent had his head on his desk, his hand and claw buried in his black hair. Cid sighed as he sat down next to him, flopping noisily.
"I hate my art class." Vincent's soft voice came from underneath his hair, and Cid sighed in response.
"Hate m'@$^@in' writin' class too. Well, that's life."
He was worried for a moment that his statement wouldn't make Vincent feel better, and decided he should probably rephrase it, but in this he was mistaken. Vincent pushed himself upwards, his eyes tired as he made eye contact with Cid for a few moments.
"Funny how our favorite things have become things we hate..."
"Nah..." Cid smirked slightly. "Jus' th' classes that 'teach' them." Cid made the quotation marks with his fingers.
Vincent pushed himself fully upright, sinking back into his chair with a deep sigh. He stared at his claw for a moment, then held it near Cid's face, his voice completely emotionless. "Does this look like an art project to you?"
Cid hissed through his teeth and winced. "Ouch. No way, they $%$@in' thought y'did that on purpose?"
Vincent nodded and sighed again, pulling his sketchbook out from his bag with slow, languid movements. Cid rolled his eyes, resting his head on his hands as he could see Hojo stepping forward, ready to begin class.
"Pretentious @#%@s."
Vincent nodded slowly as he began drawing, disappearing into his own world. Cid took this opportunity to dig his own notebook out of his bag, flipping his pen around in his fingers for a moment before continuing the broken thought he had left off on.
Hojo began to speak in the background, which Cid and Vincent were almost completely unaware of. Once or twice when Cid looked up, he could see Zorn and Thorn struggling to pay attention, but he watched as the red one gradually fell asleep, the other almost on the verge of following his twin, but managing to maintain consciousness.
"Check it out, Vin." Cid gestured with his head towards the jesters. "One of 'em's asleep."
Vincent looked for a moment, then looked somewhat worried as he looked at Hojo, who had his eyes focused on the entire crowd of students. "I hope he doesn't..."
"And who can tell me how this story ends?" Hojo gestured broadly for a moment with one of his hands. "Thorn, would you mind enlightening us?"
Cid and Vincent both collectively held their breath, knowing that the result of this would not be good.
Zorn jerked sharply at the call of his twins name, and he shook Thorn sharply, waking the red-hued jester from his slumber. Thorn blinked blearily, confused, as Zorn began to speak, his voice soft and hesitant.
"U-um...in the end of the story, she thinks he's-"
Hojo cut him off with a few sharp words, instantly silencing the blue jester. "I was speaking to Thorn."
"But he doesn't like to talk in front-"
"Thorn, would you please answer my question?"
Zorn covered his face with his hands, the bells on his hat jingling slightly as he shook his head back and forth. Thorn began flipping through the book they were supposed to be reading, desperately trying to find where they had left off. His voice was extremely soft, unable to be heard by anyone as he began stammering uncontrollably.
"Thorn, please enunciate." Hojo had the sick smile he had before when he had been tormenting Vincent, and both of the two in the background felt their hearts sink. "Tell us the answer."
Thorn continued to stammer, unable to make his voice heard, as Zorn tried to prompt him. Thorn seemed completely unable to speak in front of audiences, sinking lower into his chair, beginning to blush.
"Can't believe he's #$^@in' doin' this t'them, #$^#in' #@%hole..." Cid mumbled under his breath, Vincent slowly nodding in response.
"Thorn, would you please come here? Perhaps we could hear you better that way..."
Both of the jesters looked absolutely terrified, but Zorn managed to compose himself first, tugging on his brothers sleeve. Thorn finally slid out of his seat, and Zorn mirrored him, both of them standing awkwardly before heading down the steps.
"I believe I asked Thorn to come down..." Hojo glared at Zorn, who, for once, did not back down. He continued to follow his brother down the steps that lead to the front, shivering. Thorn was doing worse, almost unable to walk, and Zorn was there not only for the mental support, but for physical as well. Hojo sighed and rolled his eyes, but apparently gave up on trying to separate the two.
Thorn began to play with his hands, looking steadily down, still mumbling incoherently. Zorn paused, not sure of what else to do, and he finally tried to speak. "Thorn says-"
"I want to HEAR Thorn speak. I don't want you to speak FOR him." Hojo cut Zorn off viciously, who backed away, almost visibly frightened. Thorn managed to look further down if possible, his face unable to be seen. Hojo again got the sickening smile on his face, his tone back to the cajoling tone it had before.
"C'mon Thorn, tell us what you think."
Thorn began to mumble something a bit louder, Zorn next to him, whispering something to him that apparently was giving him a bit more confidence.
"Louder, Thorn, we can't hear you."
There was a pause, and then Thorn looked up, the expression on his face that of determination, but also immense pain, as the jesters thin voice grew in volume enough to be heard.
"Ending to the story focuses on..." Thorn paused for a moment, apparently gathering his resolve again. "Thinking the boy is dead the girl does...come to his aid she does...respond he does not..."
From the rest of the class came some soft laughter and whispering, too faint to be distinguished, and Vincent felt a deep rush of sadness enter his being at such torment and ridicule. How could he do this to him? Thorn had done nothing to anger Hojo, he had no right to be doing this to him...
Cid, on the other hand, just felt furious. His fists were clenched again, knuckles white, and he could feel the urge to punch something, particularly the smug smile that rested on the Professors face as Thorn struggled to continue speaking, his face turning redder and his expression changing from the determination that it had before to one of fear, of terror. Zorn touched his shoulder, whispering to him again, and Thorn turned to him for a moment, his face torn, before he finally just collapsed against his brother, clutching his shirt with his red club-emblazoned hands, hiding his face in his chest, refusing to say anything more. Zorn continued to mumble incoherent things to him, trying to shake him out of the catatonic state his brother had almost been forced into, and Vincent could see, even from his vantage point at the back of the room, the trembling force and tenacity Thorn's fingers had in grasping his brothers shirt, trying desperatly to hide himself from the gaze of the other students that was so fixated on him.
"Thank you, Thorn." Hojo's voice was satisfied, apparently having got its share of human suffering that day, and he gestured back to where the jesters had been sitting. "You can sit down now."
Zorn managed to get his brother to move, although Thorn was unresponsive, keeping his face hidden the entire time. The entire eyes of the class rested on the twins as they finally made their way back to their seats, Zorn having to detach Thorn forcibly. Thorn put his head down on his desk, shivering, and Zorn was not much better.
"How could he do that to them...? They've never done anything wrong..." Vincent whispered under his breath. Cid's voice was laden with anger and malice.
"Jus' five #$^#in' minutes with him, that's all I #$^#in' ask..."
Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without incident, the complete and total humiliation of Zorn and Thorn apparently enough for Hojo that day.
When class ended, Cid couldn't just let the twins walk off without saying something. He had to say something, anything, to show that he didn't approve of what had happened to them.
Thorn was still trembling when Zorn managed to pry him from the desk, and Cid stood somewhat awkwardly outside of their aisle, not sure as how to approach them at first.
They walked past him, eyes downward, apparently believing that he was waiting for someone else, or didn't want to talk to them.
"Highwind, what are you doing...?" He could hear Vincent's voice softly behind him, and Cid took some steps forward, following the jester twins.
"Hey, hey. Z an' T! Wait!"
Zorn and Thorn paused for a moment, exchanging glances before turning to look at Cid, who was currently trying to think of where such a stupid nickname had come from. He put his hand behind his head, trying to look non-threatening.
"Jus' want you t'know that I think what Hojo did t'you was pretty #$#%ed up..." He kept his voice low enough so that the professor could not hear. "He shouldn't've done that."
Vincent nodded behind him, and the two jesters again exchanged glances, confused. Zorn was the one who finally spoke, Thorn looking off to one side, biting the side of his hand in apparent nervousness.
"Thank you..."
Cid looked down, feeling even more awkward, not sure of what else to say. He decided to say the first thing that came to mind. "I mean, we're on your side or somethin'. If y'ever want t'hang out or somethin', jus' come t'us, right Vin?" He looked to his dark companion for confirmation, and he nodded, just as confused as the two jesters in front of him. They again exchanged glances, this time shock also working its way into the confusion.
"Thank you again..." Zorn looked somewhat uncomfortable. "We have to work...but...we'll remember what you said."
Zorn nudged his brother, who jerked and nodded twice sharply. Cid smiled at them in what he hoped was a disarming fashion. They waved goodbye and set off, and Cid and Vincent followed them, noting the looks that Hojo was shooting them. Cid shrugged.
"I think it went rather well, don't you?"
Vincent rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let's just hope the rest of the day goes smoother then this..."

~~~

Considering that they didn't have class for the rest of the day, it did go relatively smoother. They again retreated back to Vincent's room, where they spent a lot of the time discussing what they would do to Hojo if they had the chance. They hadn't minded so much when they themselves were being tormented, but the two jesters hadn't deserved that kind of treatment at all. It was uncalled for, and it made both of them angry, although they both expressed this in different ways.
Time passed for them all too quickly, and finally Vincent sat up from where he had been lying, again watching the TV without actually watching it. Cid was sitting on his chair at that point, also pretending to watch the TV while not actually doing so, and Vincent sighed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I think it's time for us to go..."
"#$^@." Cid mumbled to himself, closing his eyes as he stood up. He took a step forward before faltering, putting out a hand to steady himself as he put a hand to his forehead, wincing for a few moments. "#$#@in' headaches..."
Vincent slid on his shoes as he pulled on his black trenchcoat, staring at Cid with concern. "Are they getting worse?"
Cid waited for a few moments before speaking, finally moving his hand away from his forehead, blinking several times. He shrugged in response to Vincent's question. "Eh, no worse then they've been before. I think gettin' punched in th' head a few times made 'em worse..." Cid shrugged again. "But they're gettin' better