OPEN POST; [ SEPHIROTH / FFVII ]

[supersoldier]

those chosen by the planet.

(( despite the ominous choice of music i default to a pre-nibelheim canon point, but can play post-nibelheim upon request! ))

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[supersoldier]

[…Hello? he hears it again, light and playful. The timbre sits strangely in his ears, unused to being addressed in such a way, an admittedly awkward thought to invade his mind while he’s sprawled gracelessly on the ground, bent stems and flattened petals beneath the silver elite’s weight. But the voice hooks into his conscious mind, drags him up and over the surface of wakefulness, and Sephiroth opens his eyes.

He sees sunlight. A roof with a hole in it. And in his hazy periphery — cat-like eyes already straining to refocus, readjust — a woman whose braid dangles over her shoulder as she gazes down upon him.

For all the surreality of this situation, or perhaps because of it, years of ingrained training kicks in, doubles up and rises to the surface. He could always recover quickly from all that ails him, both rare injury and strange circumstances alike, and this is no different. Every muscle in his body tenses, unleashes like a coiled spring, and memory of conflict (sword raised against a friend, a traitor) bolsters his action; Sephiroth sits up, silver hair untangling from the plants beneath him. His left hand grasps in the soil as if reaching for something that is always there, but Masamune is gone, fallen and landed out of sight.

Not that he needs it. Reason settles in a half-second after instinct, and as he gazes up at her, some of his edged look draining away. Caution and unwanted confusion take its place.]

Who are you?

[Who are you, he asks, like he’s the one who didn’t fall from the sky, a bird with its wings clipped.]

[terracanta]

[ Aerith watches his movements, gauges what tells they offer on his identity, his background. He doesn't look ordinary at all… her heart races a little, but she remains calm in spite of it. New things and people are both scary and exciting, after all. Surely his descent seems to have caught him very off guard. His question almost makes her laugh, but the amusement settles on sitting on her lips, adding to her fairy-like appearance, especially with the particles in the air dancing around her thin frame.

Since her name is not her big secret, she answers diffusively: ] I'm Aerith. You… [ She turns slightly and points upwards at the gaping hole. ] …fell through there. It really surprised me. [ A beat. Then, just to be sure: ] Are you all right?

[supersoldier]

[It isn't like him to be pressed to the earth like this, as strange a sensation as it is -- surrounded by flowers. So Sephiroth guides a gloved hand into the terra firma, oddly put off by its strange vivacity in this steel city, pushing himself up and drawing to his full height.

There's a sense of him realigning his focus, like it's been sent askew during his fall, but that lasts but a millisecond. His back is suddenly SOLDIER-straight, his gaze purposefully placid. Assessing.

She appears relatively unbothered by his presence, which says something for her personality, all things considered.]

I'm fine. [For such a tumble, Sephiroth is made of sterner stuff than to break under the collision of a long fall. His gaze moves back towards Masamune, and he moves towards the blade, bending down to pick it up by its hilt.] I need to return to Shinra. Contact the company if you want to be reimbursed for the damage to your roof.

[terracanta]

[ He appears a dark angel in his full stature, cloaked in soft sunlight that gleams off his silver hair. And his eyes… they shine piercingly of a colour Aerith is familiar with. She sees it glow above the plates at night as well as seeping out of torn pipes in dark, uncared for alleys in the depths of the slums, like blood. (Gaia cries, but does anyone else listen?) Less often, she sees it sparkle from the ground… the Lifestream flows even in this dark, heaving metropolis that separates wealth and poverty so clearly. (Gaia fights, as humans do, but it is not yet her time for war.)

Aerith keeps her secret thoughts between her lungs as they fill with breath, the smell of old wood and watered soil dancing upon her senses. She is unbothered but she is also curious who this man is, where he's from and how he could feasibly use a sword like that. Isn't that longer than his body? Isn't that kind of excessive?

—"Shinra." The name rings in her ears. She tries not to reveal her shock, distrust. Aerith is fairly good at hiding behind a smile, though glancing at the ceiling and the light dusting the blooms, the smile is more grateful than he might expect. ]

Oh! There's no need. Actually, I think the extra light will do great for the flowers. So… thank you for that. What was your name?

[ She doesn't want him to rush out, but in case he tries, Aerith shuffles to a flowerbed and bends down to pick a particularly happy blossom. The yellow is bright like the sun, and its leaves stretch out like arms ready for an embrace. She stands to face him, holding this piece delicately between her fingers. ]