[The Northern Crater. Not a location very close to the sprawling, dark-steeled hub of Midgar. Nor is the arrangement of tonight ample time to make preparations, despite not knowing what to make preparations for, other than a meeting with a man who speaks of family as though to weave a riddle from it. It is frustrating how inconvenient it is, putting so much effort towards no guarantee of answers to questions he doesn’t even know the shape of, not really.
But he is Sephiroth, Shinra’s finest, the legendary SOLDIER and the man who won their war for them. There’s influence in a well-achieved celebrity status, in the authority he wields above the heads of the rank and file or the company’s army as a whole. Should he make a request, as rare as they are, it will come to fruition. This, he knows, and it is through this that he’ll make the short-notice trip possible. And so—]
Make yourself easy to find.
[And that seems to be all for now.
Until that night, against the vast, hazy backdrop of the Northern Crater; those jagged grey cliffs piercing the sky, cloistering the massive pockmark punched into Gaia’s crust. The landmark itself is huge and void-like, like a dead, open mouth left agape through the ages, making all those standing nearby feel infinitesimally small.
Except for Sephiroth, whose stature always seems unfazed by any and all around him, his appearance a bleary silhouette in the faded light — all but for those faintly glowing mako eyes, the trail of quicksilver hair, and the shine of Masamune’s long, curving steel as he approaches.]
welcome back to hell, we're still here
But he is Sephiroth, Shinra’s finest, the legendary SOLDIER and the man who won their war for them. There’s influence in a well-achieved celebrity status, in the authority he wields above the heads of the rank and file or the company’s army as a whole. Should he make a request, as rare as they are, it will come to fruition. This, he knows, and it is through this that he’ll make the short-notice trip possible. And so—]
Make yourself easy to find.
[And that seems to be all for now.
Until that night, against the vast, hazy backdrop of the Northern Crater; those jagged grey cliffs piercing the sky, cloistering the massive pockmark punched into Gaia’s crust. The landmark itself is huge and void-like, like a dead, open mouth left agape through the ages, making all those standing nearby feel infinitesimally small.
Except for Sephiroth, whose stature always seems unfazed by any and all around him, his appearance a bleary silhouette in the faded light — all but for those faintly glowing mako eyes, the trail of quicksilver hair, and the shine of Masamune’s long, curving steel as he approaches.]