Vincent Valentine x OC | Final Fantasy VII
[Based on the events of FFVII: Advent Children]
Vincent Valentine is a man struggling to move on from his past. Haunted by memories he refuses to let go of, his history of unatoned sins is like a cage of th...
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Chapter I | The Geostigma
THE WORLD HAD A LONG HISTORY OF BEING UNKIND TO THE POOR. Of leaving them to rot in the shadows and starve in the gutters; forcing them to turn to begging and stealing simply to stay alive. The slums of Midgar had been rife with poverty, and the streets of Edge were no different. Orphans crowded the streets like flocks of crows, huddled in gutters with their faces smudged with dirt and their bodies swaddled in rags, little more than skin and bones and strips of matted cloth. Most were left starving on the streets following the fall of Midgar, their parents nothing more than dust and ash buried beneath the skeletal remains of the city. With nothing left for them to scavenge there, they'd come to the new town in search of food and shelter.
But Edge was no better. Not since the Stigma struck. With their weaker immune systems, it was the children who were hit the hardest. The Geostigma was a disease that infected the body with debilitating weakness and fever, opening up sores on the body in the later, more virulent stages of the illness. Nobody really knew where it had come from, but a lot suspected it was ShinRa's doing. Some kind of experimental bacteria or virus that had leaked into the Lifestream through Mako energy, polluting the air. At first it was believed to be contagious, but it soon became apparent that the disease was spread some other way.
Alya was no stranger to the damage that Meteorfall had wrought on the planet. Volunteering as a humanitarian worker on the streets of Edge, every day she bore witness to the destitute that those orphans were forced to contend with. She and her co-workers devoted their time doing whatever they could to make their lives more comfortable, issuing medicine and supplies like food and water and blankets. It was a gruelling job, but it gave Alya a reason, a purpose for which to keep fighting. She might not be able to save these children, but she would help them in every way that she could.
"Over here," one of the volunteers called, waving Alya over when her light grey eyes found his. His face had taken on an ashen tinge and his head was turned to the side as if he was trying not to look at something. Alya swallowed hard as she finished giving one of the children a supply package, already suspecting the worst. As she approached him, he said nothing, gesturing instead towards the alleyway in front of him. Peering around the patchwork of bricks, Alya immediately felt a cold dread sink into her stomach. No matter how many times she saw it, the feeling was always the same. The dread, the nausea, the bitter regret that they were too late.
A child's body was crumpled against the wall of the alley. His eyes were glazed and open, empty hollows set deep into his head. The skin on his arms was stretched thin and covered in open sores, dark blood already dried around them. Alya bit her lip to stop it from trembling as she shrugged off her jacket and covered the child's malnourished body, kneeling to the ground to close his eyes. "Get someone over here to carry him away," she said quietly, struggling to keep the tremor from her voice.
