finalflight | PSL; [NOLI MANERE]

PSL; [NOLI MANERE]

burn me out, leave me on the otherside.

[In another timeline, diverged down an invisible path, the battle was long over.

The dragon’s corpse, still shining emerald green in the haze of the sun, would be pressed unmoving into the ground, its maw still gaping open, tongue lazily hanging over jagged teeth. Two clean cuts, deep into its chest, would ooze hot and coppery ribbons of blood, a color matching the hue plastered across the edge of Masamune. Zack would still have his knees ground into the dirt, hand grasping at a side as he tried to pull himself up; lucky that he’d come away with nothing more than cracked ribs, something healing magic would have to tend to soon. And in the vehicle behind them, still idling, the blond-haired infantryman — Cloud, quiet and sullen and nervous — would be watching, harried, but wise enough to keep his distance. And they would soon carry onwards to their mission to Nibelheim, undeterred.

But in this instance, this strange set of circumstances, the fight does not go so smoothly.

He doesn’t understand why, or how. This creature should be nothing, his blade should cut straight through its hide instead of only managing glancing blows that barely scrape closely-packed scales. A monster should not be this strong, no matter how permeating the Mako leak was in the surrounding area. It’s beyond unnatural, something that has him gritting his teeth beneath a twisted frown as Sephiroth rushes forward, blade flashing.

Zack’s already unconscious, a deep wound bleeding from the shoulder courtesy of the dragon’s claws, body strewn several feet away, now useless in this fight. The creature rises up on its haunches, spreading giant wings as it snarls down at the only moving target, and catches Masamune in its teeth. Sephiroth pushes; it pushes back. He hears footsteps rushing forward from behind him, staggering, panicked breaths drawing closer, and he turns his head just in time to see the infantryman closing the space between them, readying the rifle that had been slung over his shoulder. Sephiroth knows he may as well be heading straight for death.]

Stay back— [Comes the command, in a voice so used to giving them that it hides the jarring reality of the situation — that this is not good, this is unheard of, and judging what may happen from here anyone’s guess. But it’s too late, because there’s pressure clamping down on his blade, and then with a feral twist of the neck, the dragon has snapped his weapon in half with a reverberating ring.

It’s only slight, but his eyes widen. The other half of the blade topples to the ground, his gloved-grip around the hilt falters for just a second, but it’s all the time the dragon needs to lurch up with fire filling its maw.

It’s the last thing he sees, flame and writhing heat all around him, and then the world goes black.

— — — — — —

He has his face pressed into soggy sand. Hair a tangled mess, clothes damp and sticking, as the waves thinly slide over his form. And then he’s jolting awake with a start, fingers pressed into the shore, hefting himself up and immediately tensing, expecting to see fire and teeth as he cranes his neck—

And is met only with a clear blue sky, a bright shining sun, and the scent of the sea. Masamune’s two halves lay half-buried in a mound of sand, one laying flat, the other sticking straight up a short distance away. The hiss of an exhale, trying to bring himself to his feet, disoriented and maybe a little wobbly, head bowed down. (Also unheard of.)

Both confusion and frustration dance in his insides. What’s happening?]

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[ It’s not the quickest errand Luka’s ever been on, but once they figure out how to best maneuver their tools and themselves around each other, they fall into an easy routine. One set of Anala hearts later, they’re on their way back to the kojin smith with their prize. He’s not too fussed about leaving the bodies behind. If the kojin have more use for Anala bits, then they’re there for the taking, or else they’ll be swept away with the next high tide.

Luka has the somewhat dubious honor of toting their quarry along, since Sephiroth has claimed the bucket of tools. He can already feel the heat seeping through the container Masoto gave them and crawling up his pantleg. Thankfully, he’s spared from having to focus on how unpleasant it is when Sephiroth decides to strike up conversation. ]

Ah, few summers I suppose. Why?

Because you're not terrible for a "few summers" worth of training.

["Not terrible" is its own form of compliment coming from Sephiroth, so take that as you will, Luka.]

...And I was simply wondering if everyone here considers themselves proficient with a blade.

[Along the path they go, tools clacking in the bucket he carries, long hair trailing behind him.]

[ Luka, perhaps rather ironically for a man with feline characteristics, barks out a laugh, the sound sudden and bright. His tail twitches with amusement as they trail their way back to the entrance to the kojin’s cave. ]

“Not terrible”, he says. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since I found you half-drowned on the beach.

[ It probably is, actually. He gives an amused snort at the thought. ]

I dunno. Probably no more so than anywhere else. Not everyone’s a fighter – you’ll find more farmers and merchants out in Yanxia than you will soldiers.

[Green cat-eyes slide over to him at the laugh. Sephiroth just continues walking steadily and without much affectation.]

...In Midgar, I was surrounded by those able to fight. [He says, as if it's an explanation for why he had asked. "Normal" life and all its mundanities are faraway concept to him.] I wasn't certain what to expect here after seeing you battle those creatures.

You'd be skilled enough to join Shinra's army, that much I can say. Any more than that, though, would be up for debate. [This is how he assesses some people the best he knows how: via their fighting capabilities.]

Eh, I’ll take that as a compliment. Sensei always did say I was a quick study.

[ Luka’s been a brawler all his life, and Sensei gave him something to funnel all that into. There’s no denying he’s probably helped along some by the soul crystal he keeps on him as well – something all samurai pass down to their students to help them hone their craft. ]

That was you are? A soldier in this Shinra’s army?

[Sephiroth simply nods.]

Yes. Whereas you've trained with that sword for a few years, being a part of Shinra's army is what I've known ever since I was a child.

[It isn't so much bragging as it is a comparison between their experiences. He is proud of his skills in a certain way, but he knows there's more to it than the length of time one might have wielding a blade. It is also skill and stubborn commitment; Luka does at least seem to have a stubborn streak, he can give him that much.]

I'm part of a branch literally called SOLDIER. More elite than the average infantryman.

Soldier for life, eh? I suppose that explains a few things.

[ Probably not a whole lot of room for levity in the ranks of the elite. That almost makes Luka feel bad for the guy. At times, Luka feels like he was robbed of some aspects of his childhood with the passing of his mother, but for Sephiroth, it was probably so, so much worse. ]

So, tell me true, were you holding back with the Anala back there?

[SOLDIER for life, with no parents to speak of. (Or none, at least, that he's aware of.) Shinra had been the means of his upbringing, and perhaps not the healthiest to raise a child with the sole purpose being utilized as a weapon, or the strongest man in their army made to drum up propaganda for the company itself, but...

For what it's worth, Sephiroth is aware of this. Knows of his role, and how he's utilized with a self-awareness that might make some people question why he still remains with the megacorporation. But it also means that he is oddly functional, without the hang-ups that most would assume come from an abnormal childhood. He's done well for himself, all things considered.

That, or it's just the perception he curates for those around him.]

Yes. [An easy answer, no point in hiding it.] That fight was thoughtless, automatic. I mostly wanted to see what you were capable of.

[ Sephiroth seems unbothered by his circumstances, though without knowing him too well, Luka could not begin to guess if that means he’s well-adjusted or simply a case of ignorance being bliss. Whatever it is, a world away from his home and his organization, Sephiroth may have to learn how to live like a normal person – at least until some egghead back in the city hopefully solves his problem.

(Because Luka still has his own business to attend to, still needs to find his way across the Ruby sea before the trail goes cold. Otherwise, he might consider tagging along with the other man, if only to give him a somewhat familiar face to guide him through Kugane’s streets.) ]

And I passed the test, I suppose. [ He flicks an ear in Sephiroth’s direction, grinning broadly. ] I have to say, I’m curious to see what you’re like when you go all-out, but there’s nothing around here much tougher than those Anala, unless you fancy taking a dive into the volcano.

You passed it well enough. But there are some parts of your technique that would benefit from further refinement.

[Oh, did he think that Sephiroth was going to let more than a single compliment slip past? Surely not.

He says nothing about him going all-out on anything, though, instead his interest pinged by mention of a volcano.]

And what lives inside the volcano?

Oh, one scrap and you're an expert, are you? Got any pointers to go with that criticism or are you gonna leave it at that?

[ Luka may roll his eyes at the remark, but he knows very well that he has a lot left to learn. If he'd been better, if he'd been quicker, if he hadn't hesitated... well, perhaps things would be different than they are now.

But even with all that aside, he knows that to a man who has been training his whole life, Luka's skill must seem rough around the edges at best. ]

Dunno for sure. But there's rumors, everything from sleeping spirits to imprisoned voidsent.

Several, but I’m not being paid to be your mentor, am I.

[Saracsm, Sephiroth has it, too. Brusque but not terribly sharp, at any rate.]

But the interior of a volcano is something probably better left to rumors. [Who would willingly go into a volcano???] What is a “voidsent”?

I'm not being paid to be your guide, either, but we all gotta make sacrifices.

[ He hasn't been much of a guide thus far, truth be told, but getting Sephiroth off that beach and into the hands of those who might help him has to count for something, right?

Luka's brows furrow at the question, ears flicking curiously. He can't quite wrap his head around having to explain something that even babes are warned of ere they're old enough to toddle around outdoors on their own. ] They're... just voidsent. Uh, they're monsters I guess. Things not from this world that get pulled through by mages and stuff.

[Being a stranger to a completely new world means that context is important. Sephiroth tries to pull out as much as possible from Luka, though the results are, in his opinion, mediocre at best.]

“Mages and stuff”. [Luka sure does lack the military preciseness that Sephiroth is all too used to.] Things not from this world... you mean like me?

[Except he’s not a monster. ~~No one’s told him as much yet, at least, so thank Gaia for that.~~]

[ Luka is also neither a scholar nor a mage. He can’t explain things with the kind of detail the other might be looking for because he himself does not know it. ]

Look, I’m doing my best here, but it’s not like I’m an expert. You’ve seen all the magic I can do. I’m about as close to being able to summon voidsent as I am to turning into a cactuar. S’why I’m trying to get you back to Kugane, where someone can actually help you.

[ He would shrug, but the rather heavy leaden pot in his hand keeps him from doing so effectively. Instead, he just wrinkles his nose some, but his expression smooths into something considering. ]

You seem pretty far from a voidsent to me. You got all the sense of humor of a piece of plywood, but that doesn't make you a monster.

[Pushing aside the mental image of Luka turning into a cactuar toting around heavy pots filled with burning hearts, he continues.]

Maybe not. But sense of humor notwithstanding, the concept is the same. Brought from one world into this one; if the trend has been only monsters so far, the question is why am I an outlier to begin with.

[A question that neither of them can answer, something becoming clearer to Sephiroth the more they speak.]

Even so, it doesn’t need to be stated that I have to return home as soon as possible. Being stolen in the middle of a mission leaves the whole operation compromised.

[ He’d be less of a cactuar and more of a cat-tuar anyway. ]

Gonna need a mage to answer that one.

[ Stating the obvious by now, probably, but best to have all their bases covered. He really doesn’t want Sephiroth flinging more questions about magic, summoning, or the world between worlds at him. That stuff is way out of his league. ]

I bet. Let’s get these back to the kojin and get you on your way, yeah?

[blocks u]

Then pick up the pace.

[Pick up the pace, soldier, is the implication behind the tone unspoken. Sephiroth punctuates that with a quickening gait of long strides, as they clank along the path the way they came.

And later, once they reach their destination and have handed over their prizes, he has to question with arms crossed-]

...How long will it take?

[ Uh how dare you?

Luka seems to read Sephiroth's tone well enough. It's not as if he spent much time in the company of soldiers (or SOLDIERs as the case may be), but he knows a command when he hears one. ]

If you're expecting a salute, don't hold your breath.

[ But pick up the pace he does, and in no time at all they're back in the kojin's little village beneath the waves. With their prize handed back over to the blacksmith, it seems Sephiroth wastes no time getting to the heart of the matter. Masoto, still peering at the Anala hearts in their container, glances up. ]

I require three days, and no disturbances. Normally, it would take weeks, but you have already provided the steel, and this bounty will fuel my forge for moons to come.

[Sephiroth eyes the kojin, expression still as he considers where that leaves him. Three days is a short amount of time for the re-forging of broken steel, even if Shinra would have scrambled all its resources together to make certain that the SOLDIER had it back within the first twenty-four hours, but being without Masamune is like having lost a limb. That blade has been carried with him since the day he received it, years ago when it was still far too large to be wielded properly, and three days is still three days longer than he’s used to being without it.

He crosses his arms, replies with a-] I see.

[Because he knows, just as well, that there’s nothing to be done about it. The alternative would have been weeks, but they’ve circumvented that by conceding to a simple hunting task. Even so, a wave of restlessness rolls through him, just beneath his skin, and he exhales. He hates that feeling.]

I don’t have much of a choice but to accept that. [He turns cat-like eyes over to Luka nearby, trying to hold back his spark of impatience.] Three days. Where do we go from here?

[He needs to plan, as always. Needs to know what route to tack himself onto, and if Luka already has an idea, or if he’s going to be left wheeling in the wind.]

[ For his own part, Luka is quite curious as to the skill of this smith, if he can re-forge a monster of a katana in three days flat, but he know the kojin have been around for a very long time indeed, and they place great personal and spiritual significance into items of fine craftsmanship and beauty. To become a kojin craftsman must be the hardest test of them all. This old man must indeed be up to the task.

But he figures the Sephiroth would be impatient, and sees the question coming long before it’s lobbed his way. ]

Not like we can go far. Could probably cozy up with the locals for a bit, run a few more errands for food and board.

[ A beat, as crimson eyes sweep over the other man from head to foot. ]

A change of clothes is definitely on the list for you. Everyone’s liable to think you’re Garlean in that getup.

[At least Luka gets straight to the point, knowing what he wants to ask, which Sephiroth can appreciate.

The comment about his “get-up”, not so much. He straightens, arms falling back to his sides.]

If a SOLDIER’s uniform is unacceptable, then I’ll have to rely on you to pick out attire that is. [Which is a small amount of trust that he isn’t used to putting in anyone’s hands (outside of Shinra’s military, at any rate), but Sephiroth is willing to make an exception in this one extreme case.]

And I don’t think it needs to be said that I don’t have a way to offer you recompense just yet, either.

Just trust me. Kugane remains neutral territory, but most folks aren’t gonna like you much if you look like a Garlean.

[ War and subjugation leave scars that run deep, and with Doma reaching out her hand to begin relations with her neighbors as a free nation, there are bound to be people with a less than pleasant history with Garlemald in the city. Not that he doubts Sephiroth’s ability to handle himself, far from it, but it’s awfully hard to get home – no matter where that home might be – from the confines of a jail cell.

He inclines his head, looking past Sephiroth to the kojin smith behind him. ]

Thank you, Master Masoto. We’ll leave you to your work. [ Luka bows before taking his exit, palms flat against his thighs and head dipped low. Trusting that Sephiroth followed him out of the smithy, he turns to the other man. ]

Don’t worry about paying me back. I got no gil either, remember? We’re both dealing in favors, here.

[He had given Masamune, still broken in two, a final glance before turning on his heel and following the young man outside. A frown has begun to tug at his mouth again.]

And favors are hard to quantify, so we should come to a clear arrangement beforehand. [Sephiroth was never one for “winging it”, preferring a plan before diving headlong into the unknown. He’s already had too much of the latter for his tastes, thanks.]

How long are you willing to help me find a way back to Gaia? Or do you plan on leaving me in more capable hands the moment you find someone with more of an understanding of magic than you?

[ He knows this line of questioning isn’t meant to be a guilt trip – Sephiroth doesn’t seem the type. If he felt Luka was being unfair, he would surely say something and pull no punches about it – but Luka feels guilty all the same. He winces, ears flattening. ]

I… can’t. I can’t help you at all, Sephiroth, I’m sorry. Once we’ve bartered our passage, we’ll be heading in opposite directions. I have to get to Doma.

[ It bothers him how much this bothers him. His mission is paramount, and he’s wasted far too much time on this island as it is. He can’t afford to waste anymore, yet for as capable as Sephiroth is, this is still an alien world to him and leaving him to his own devices seems cruel. ]

PSL; [NOLI MANERE]

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