finalflight | PSL; [ was it all a dream? will i ever know? ]

[The back of one of Shinra's military vehicles makes for a bumpy ride. It is not outfitted for comfortability, and even further still from luxury. Only practicality, to be weathered with the forbearance of a SOLDIER, as it often is.

A SOLDIER and a civilian, in this case. Sephiroth sits, arms crossed, eyes fixed on a blank spot on the opposite end of the truck's interior, as silent as the grave. He only considers speaking when they're a couple of miles away from their destination: the small mountain town of Nibelheim, and its nearby Mako reactor, the latter of which is a trademark facility of the Shinra Corporation, siphoning energy from the Planet and partitioning it outwards to nearby towns, cities, any location that needed power.

That kind of influence--a stranglehold over a corporate resource--granted the company innumerable avenues of power. Political, monetary, and military -- the latter of which Sephiroth is a product of. This kind of power ultimately creates enemies, who bellyache about corruption and greed, and who would like to take Shinra to task. The company plays nice, on occasion, though Sephiroth believes it to be little more than lip service. Even so, such a facade is on display today, as he's meant to accompany a woman keen on investigating the inner workings of the corporation's facilities.

One of whom he sits next to, and he finally pipes up after a long and bumpy drive.]

...Keep in mind there are monsters in the area. I shouldn't have to tell you to stay close.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Okay, sure. Sephiroth won’t question the gun, and he barely questions the concept of her harboring a summon — magic is a commonplace feature on Gaia with the manufacture of materia, even so far as summoning fantastic creatures into their reality to aid in battle.

Still, his stare is silent and steady, before he seems to mentally add this information into his ever-adapting considerations.]

What kind of su—

[The question is unduly cut off when the truck lurches, suddenly and fiercely, upturned by something ramming straight into it from outside. The force is so potent that the whole vehicle tilts on its side, unbalanced by an outside force and its forward momentum both, and it skids against the ground, kicking up dirt and sparking across stone until it can grind to a stop.

From within the convoy, the sound is deafening, and not even Sephiroth, in all his inhuman balance, can avoid being thrown to one side of the truck, slamming his shoulder into the metal, objects clattering and strewn from one end the other.

The driver upfront is yelling something about a monster attack. From the cracked windows up ahead, Sephiroth can see the vibrant, green scales of the offending creature already lumbering closer.]

Seriously?

[ Maya mutters this into the side of the truck where she's been flung, smart enough to have shielded her head but her back is most certainly protesting this sudden assault. ]

They-- couldn't wait until we got there?

[ She's wincing, but lifting her head to see what Sephiroth is glancing at and-- oh. A dragon.

Okay. ]

[Sephiroth frowns, agitated at the inconvenience more than the danger, and turns his head to look at Maya — uninjured, it would seem, but not for long with how quickly the dragon, flames licking its maw, is approaching.

Steel gleams at the back of the truck; undergone the indignity of being tossed about like the rest of the supplies here. Sephiroth motions at it — Masamune, an inordinately long katana-esque blade, his steadfast companion for years, its hilt resting at her feet.]

Throw it here.

[Yes, throw that very unwieldy thing at him like it’s nothing.]

[ It is most certainly not going to be nothing. Maya may be surprisingly (or exhaustively, according to her boss) competent for a journalist, but it's not as though she's ever flung a blade before. Swords aren't her thing.

But there's a dragon and flames are glowing and flickering near the corner of its mouth, so she decides not to even try to make it look cool and unceremoniously hauls up Masamune and tossing it in his general direction.

If he has a sword like that, he's probably skilled at catching it when it's flying his way. ]

[Masamune's heft means that it doesn't so much as twist in the air when she throws it his way, merely arcing and threatening to clatter once again to the ground. But Sephiroth has had ceaseless practice with that blade, and his hand-eye-coordination has been refined to just as sharp of a point over the years, and-

(Once, he stood in Shinra's training room, accompanied by two friends. Genesis stood with his arms crossed, a rounded fruit perched daintily atop his head. Angeal laughed from beside Sephiroth, who held Masamune like a throwing javelin, declaring that this should be easy for the number one SOLDIER; and Sephiroth, stone-faced, drew back and hurled the blade straight towards the fruit, watching the blade as it glimmered and shone midflight-)

-he catches, twisting his body, and throws his blade like a spear, straight ahead and through the front window of the truck. Glass shatters and the heaving sound of a dragon's roar assaults their ears.

He frowns, and motions at the back of the truck, where one-half of the double doors has swung open on its hinges.]

Get out! We're at a disadvantage in here!

[He assumes no one wishes to experience the sensation of being cooked alive by an angry dragon's flames within a metal truck.]

[ Maya doesn't need convincing. She's still wobbly from the sudden impact and assault, but it takes but an additional second to regain her footing and take a flying leap through the conveniently open door.

(Of course, as she does, her mind is already working furiously. Sephiroth had not only seamlessly snatched that massively long blade out of the air, tossed by an unusual wielder, but then thrown it sharply without so much as pausing to calculate his aim and strength to slam through a window. Shinra had truly chosen a terrifying man to escort her, hadn't they?

Hm.)

She does pause to check on the driver, to make sure he's been able to make it out okay, before she murmurs something quietly-- a name, perhaps.

Whatever it is, the air around her chills considerably.

Listen, she can't let Sephiroth have all the fun. ]

[It isn’t fun, it’s work. It’s another mission that’s simply escalated early, the danger preemptively showing itself so that they can nip it in the bud. The work of a SOLDIER should be calculated and efficient to reflect the rank—at least, Sephiroth would like for it to be; that isn’t always the case—and outside of the confines of the truck, he brings himself into a defensive stance that is barely that different from a casual stand, were it not the way his heels dug into the earth in case he needs to springboard away.

It’s with this humorless demeanor he turns to ensure everyone is safe — and notes the way the air is cooing around Maya.]

What are you doing?

[Is it magic? It isn’t a bad tactic, to assault the creature from afar; the dragon is swinging its head wildly, attempting to dislodge Masamune’s steel from its maw as though it almost had a fishbone stuck in its throat. It’s bought them time, but he doesn’t need a journalist finishing the fight for them. Not if his own materia made more sense to use.]

Making myself look a little less damsel, what's it look like?

[ it could be snippy, but she says it rather cheerfully, for all that her gaze and focus don't really move from the dragon. She's not aiming to kill, but incapacitate? Slow it down? Absolutely, and she lifts one hand, a single word emerging clearly. ]

Artemis.

[ With a blast of much more frigid air, a vaguely humanoid but transparent figure shimmers above her, and a volley of diamond-shaped ice slams into the dragon. ]

PSL; [ was it all a dream? will i ever know? ]

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