sephiroth, “tol alien boy”, SOLDIER first class. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2019-12-14 12:21 am
supersoldier) wrote in finalflight2019-12-14 12:21 am
OPEN POST; [ SEPHIROTH / FFVII ]
those chosen by the planet.
((
those chosen by the planet.
((
[There was a reason why he delegated the last mission to Zack Fair, why he had looked at the briefing for Banora and deferred it, instead, to the other, the one eager to prove, eager to perform his duty, even at the danger of meeting an old and treasured mentor. Perhaps that reason was shaped like cowardice, or selfishness — maybe it was wrong to shuck off responsibility due to emotional rationale, something he has never allowed to define him before. But what was done was done, and at the time, Sephiroth had neatly avoided facing either of his old friends in conflict. Masamune was not raised against them; someone else’s hands could be dirtied by the task.
(Maybe that decision still settles unevenly in his gut, like glass shards sticking to his insides. But he does not regret it. He knew it was the right choice.)
He knows it now more poignantly than ever. Here, facing Angeal (white feathers sprouting from his back, defining himself as a monster, what did he mean?), the war machine in him stutters and sticks, glitches against the notion of cutting him down. His veins sing to fulfill what is expected of him, but emotion becomes nettles against his nerves, slowing him just enough to birth a concept altogether foreign to the legendary SOLDIER — hesitation.
It won’t be enough to bring him down. Both he and Angeal know that. But the other man had always been wise, observant, clever in ways almost enviable, and so the ground beneath Sephiroth’s very feet is assailed instead. There’s not much he can do to fight gravity, not with metal world around him groaning and collapsing, and a second later and he’s falling, falling, back slamming against Sector 5 reactor’s foundations on the way down, silver hair trailing up and whipping all around him, and in the next moment all he can see in his mind’s eye is Zack’s distraught features after he returned from Banora, and Sephiroth thinks to himself that maybe this is deserved.
A second collision sounds like wood splintering, or glass shattering, but he’s met with darkness immediately after.
When consciousness later grasps at him with clumsy, searching hands, he’s stopped falling — something scents sweet in the air, floral and foreign — and he thinks, maybe, that he hears a voice through the haze.]
(Maybe that decision still settles unevenly in his gut, like glass shards sticking to his insides. But he does not regret it. He knew it was the right choice.)
He knows it now more poignantly than ever. Here, facing Angeal (white feathers sprouting from his back, defining himself as a monster, what did he mean?), the war machine in him stutters and sticks, glitches against the notion of cutting him down. His veins sing to fulfill what is expected of him, but emotion becomes nettles against his nerves, slowing him just enough to birth a concept altogether foreign to the legendary SOLDIER — hesitation.
It won’t be enough to bring him down. Both he and Angeal know that. But the other man had always been wise, observant, clever in ways almost enviable, and so the ground beneath Sephiroth’s very feet is assailed instead. There’s not much he can do to fight gravity, not with metal world around him groaning and collapsing, and a second later and he’s falling, falling, back slamming against Sector 5 reactor’s foundations on the way down, silver hair trailing up and whipping all around him, and in the next moment all he can see in his mind’s eye is Zack’s distraught features after he returned from Banora, and Sephiroth thinks to himself that maybe this is deserved.
A second collision sounds like wood splintering, or glass shattering, but he’s met with darkness immediately after.
When consciousness later grasps at him with clumsy, searching hands, he’s stopped falling — something scents sweet in the air, floral and foreign — and he thinks, maybe, that he hears a voice through the haze.]
Edited 2019-12-15 15:24 (UTC)
[He can’t find him.
Vergil was supposed to meet him beyond the boundaries of Shinra HQ, adhering to their clockwork agreement like so many times before. He’s worked with the other man for a few weeks now, and while that’s not enough to develop true trust — especially for an individual like Sephiroth, who opens up only with time, and trusts completely in small increments — the other man had seemed reliable. No nonsense, straight to the point. All characteristics that Sephiroth could appreciate, that made him easier to work with than most of Midgar’s populace who always expected just a little more from him in turn.
Shinra included.
But he wasn’t there two days ago. Same spot yesterday, same time, and he’s just as missing. Today, he chooses not to stand around and wait, instead taking to Midgar’s murky streets, eyes scanning for anyone familiar.
He isn’t the usual visitor to the slums, or anywhere in the close vicinity. In this sector, he can feel every person’s eyes on his back, and it funnels him deeper into military professionalism, stone-cold and unapproachable. It works — there are only whispers of his passing, but none are bold enough to walk up to him, not even the children. Not when he looks like there’s something he’s seeking, suffering no interruptions.
For a long while there’s nothing, just a struggling populace and night threatening to overtake Midgar. But finally, down an alleyway, he sees a familiar stature, a familiar shock of white hair, and his gait turns, hastens, and he calls out with each syllable shearing outbound through the air—]
Where have you been? If our arrangement is suddenly disagreeable to you, I expect communication on that front.
Vergil was supposed to meet him beyond the boundaries of Shinra HQ, adhering to their clockwork agreement like so many times before. He’s worked with the other man for a few weeks now, and while that’s not enough to develop true trust — especially for an individual like Sephiroth, who opens up only with time, and trusts completely in small increments — the other man had seemed reliable. No nonsense, straight to the point. All characteristics that Sephiroth could appreciate, that made him easier to work with than most of Midgar’s populace who always expected just a little more from him in turn.
Shinra included.
But he wasn’t there two days ago. Same spot yesterday, same time, and he’s just as missing. Today, he chooses not to stand around and wait, instead taking to Midgar’s murky streets, eyes scanning for anyone familiar.
He isn’t the usual visitor to the slums, or anywhere in the close vicinity. In this sector, he can feel every person’s eyes on his back, and it funnels him deeper into military professionalism, stone-cold and unapproachable. It works — there are only whispers of his passing, but none are bold enough to walk up to him, not even the children. Not when he looks like there’s something he’s seeking, suffering no interruptions.
For a long while there’s nothing, just a struggling populace and night threatening to overtake Midgar. But finally, down an alleyway, he sees a familiar stature, a familiar shock of white hair, and his gait turns, hastens, and he calls out with each syllable shearing outbound through the air—]
Where have you been? If our arrangement is suddenly disagreeable to you, I expect communication on that front.
[here was dante, minding his own business in kicking down a couple of trash cans and just overall being a menace, the surly owner of the devil may cry shop. scaring kids off is easy when you make a big show of it, but they seem to keep coming back to try and prank him or get inside the shop and play with toys that are definitely not for kids.]
[he's in the middle of grabbing one of the children by the ankle and pulling them up from the dumpster—the child, laughing like this is the best thing to ever happen to him, squirms and wriggles, but dante's hold is stalwart.]
Listen here, you little demon—
[and yet his words are cut off as a man of defined poise and too-long hair comes bearing questions at him. he's in some kind of uniform, so dante just glares at the kid, hissing hurriedly you got the cops involved, i'm going to gut you and make minced meat pie out of you. but the kid quickly denies any kind of knowledge about this — and is desperately trying to remove himself from dante's hold.]
[dante does relent, setting the kid back on his feet—it's just playing around, after all!—and the kid scampers off the opposite way to meet his friends. orphans have it rough in midgar.]
Hey, hey, mister polished!
[casual as can be, dante approaches with nonchalance and a smartass vibe.]
I've been here, in my shop, minding my own business. I ain't got anything to talk to your kind, so if this is one of those schemes to get me thrown into jail, I won't go quietly. I got a clean-ass record to upkeep.
[he's in the middle of grabbing one of the children by the ankle and pulling them up from the dumpster—the child, laughing like this is the best thing to ever happen to him, squirms and wriggles, but dante's hold is stalwart.]
Listen here, you little demon—
[and yet his words are cut off as a man of defined poise and too-long hair comes bearing questions at him. he's in some kind of uniform, so dante just glares at the kid, hissing hurriedly you got the cops involved, i'm going to gut you and make minced meat pie out of you. but the kid quickly denies any kind of knowledge about this — and is desperately trying to remove himself from dante's hold.]
[dante does relent, setting the kid back on his feet—it's just playing around, after all!—and the kid scampers off the opposite way to meet his friends. orphans have it rough in midgar.]
Hey, hey, mister polished!
[casual as can be, dante approaches with nonchalance and a smartass vibe.]
I've been here, in my shop, minding my own business. I ain't got anything to talk to your kind, so if this is one of those schemes to get me thrown into jail, I won't go quietly. I got a clean-ass record to upkeep.
[It only takes a moment, but Sephiroth knows nigh immediately that this is not the right man.
If the act of dangling a kid out from a dumpster did not inform him of this revelation, everything else about the other stranger would. He has the look of Vergil (the right features, at least, even if the hair and manner of dress was all wrong), but there’s a swagger to this one where the other had been straight-backed and no-nonsense. His words are heated, cocksure, aggravating if Sephiroth were the sort to easily be aggravated.
As it stands, the silver-haired SOLDIER remains still as Dante approaches him. The faint glow of green eyes flicker dimly in the dark, casting an eerie mako haze across a few planes of his face.]
I’m not here to detain you. Unless you give me a reason.
[The warning is purposeful. Sephiroth does not suffer fools when they come sauntering his way; he hasn’t the time for it tonight.]
You look just like him.
If the act of dangling a kid out from a dumpster did not inform him of this revelation, everything else about the other stranger would. He has the look of Vergil (the right features, at least, even if the hair and manner of dress was all wrong), but there’s a swagger to this one where the other had been straight-backed and no-nonsense. His words are heated, cocksure, aggravating if Sephiroth were the sort to easily be aggravated.
As it stands, the silver-haired SOLDIER remains still as Dante approaches him. The faint glow of green eyes flicker dimly in the dark, casting an eerie mako haze across a few planes of his face.]
I’m not here to detain you. Unless you give me a reason.
[The warning is purposeful. Sephiroth does not suffer fools when they come sauntering his way; he hasn’t the time for it tonight.]
You look just like him.
[ The slums are a noisy place, full of industrial din and nefarious affairs done under neon lights and deep shadows. They're often wet, muddy, and impoverished; and sometimes monsters break in from outside, policing forces stationed in higher density in the booming metropolis above. It's truly a wonder anyone can live decently below the plates, staved off from cleaner technology, with relative safety.
Yet, one girl has made a sanctuary out of the dystopia. By the ancient magic unknowingly seeping from her hands, she grows miracles from the otherwise barren ground of an abandoned church. Old beams and weary pews, grey in colour as though life has left them centuries ago, but the structure itself has withstood time. Maybe, subconsciously, that's why this girl is drawn to the vast quiet of it, for she, too, has survived time and hardship.
If it was anyone else, perhaps the church would seem less serene, filled with the terror and decay afflicting the Planet outside Midgar—but a young half-Cetra doesn't focus on such things just yet. She remains occupied, idealizing the most normal life possible, while tending to the yellow lilies and various other wild flowers spawning wherever the wood had broken apart, and somehow enough light radiated through the glass windows to cultivate the richness, until…
Crash, crack, bang! —Thud.
Aerith isn't the type to shriek, but she does jump, spinning and watching a black form break through the ceiling and fall into the floorboards of the church with a painful crunch. (From just the wood, hopefully.) Dust scatters the sunlight, clouding her view, so she moves closer, footsteps quiet as a cat's. She doesn't often get visitors, much less in this manner. A few minutes of observation passes until she gathers the courage to mirror her curiosity to call out, voice touched with timbre of playfulness and innocence. ]
Hello? Hellooo? Are you all right? …Hello?
Yet, one girl has made a sanctuary out of the dystopia. By the ancient magic unknowingly seeping from her hands, she grows miracles from the otherwise barren ground of an abandoned church. Old beams and weary pews, grey in colour as though life has left them centuries ago, but the structure itself has withstood time. Maybe, subconsciously, that's why this girl is drawn to the vast quiet of it, for she, too, has survived time and hardship.
If it was anyone else, perhaps the church would seem less serene, filled with the terror and decay afflicting the Planet outside Midgar—but a young half-Cetra doesn't focus on such things just yet. She remains occupied, idealizing the most normal life possible, while tending to the yellow lilies and various other wild flowers spawning wherever the wood had broken apart, and somehow enough light radiated through the glass windows to cultivate the richness, until…
Crash, crack, bang! —Thud.
Aerith isn't the type to shriek, but she does jump, spinning and watching a black form break through the ceiling and fall into the floorboards of the church with a painful crunch. (From just the wood, hopefully.) Dust scatters the sunlight, clouding her view, so she moves closer, footsteps quiet as a cat's. She doesn't often get visitors, much less in this manner. A few minutes of observation passes until she gathers the courage to mirror her curiosity to call out, voice touched with timbre of playfulness and innocence. ]
Hello? Hellooo? Are you all right? …Hello?
[…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.]
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.]
Edited (Sorry for the edits!) 2019-12-25 20:21 (UTC)
[all it takes are those words for dante to know immediately what this is about. he rolls his eyes then tilts his head downwards, shaking his head and clicking his tongue like this is some funny joke he's heard too many times for his particular liking.]
[when he raises his head, there's a grin on his face, but his eyes are cold and hard, as if representing the rage that he's working hard to keep inside and paint pretty with easy mannerisms and upwards curves of his face.]
No shit, Sherlock.
You're looking for Vergil. [a hand moves forward, pointing, accusing.] My idiot brother.
['idiot' is hardly the word to describe vergil, for he's incredibly smart. and yet, calling out his idiocy doesn't seem to stem at all from how smart dante may or may not think his twin is; rather, it comes from somewhere else, at how dante considers his brother's ideas and ways of going about things idiotic.]
[pulling his hand back, dante pushes the bangs on his forehead to resemble the twin, but they fall into place soon as he brings his hand back down.]
Good luck finding that asshole, unless he's already dead. [his jaw tightens. vergil's been missing for some time now.] But you Shinra dogs would know all about that.
[when he raises his head, there's a grin on his face, but his eyes are cold and hard, as if representing the rage that he's working hard to keep inside and paint pretty with easy mannerisms and upwards curves of his face.]
No shit, Sherlock.
You're looking for Vergil. [a hand moves forward, pointing, accusing.] My idiot brother.
['idiot' is hardly the word to describe vergil, for he's incredibly smart. and yet, calling out his idiocy doesn't seem to stem at all from how smart dante may or may not think his twin is; rather, it comes from somewhere else, at how dante considers his brother's ideas and ways of going about things idiotic.]
[pulling his hand back, dante pushes the bangs on his forehead to resemble the twin, but they fall into place soon as he brings his hand back down.]
Good luck finding that asshole, unless he's already dead. [his jaw tightens. vergil's been missing for some time now.] But you Shinra dogs would know all about that.
Edited 2019-12-25 23:45 (UTC)
[ It had been a Witch's Labyrinth she had joined the others in. She was sure of it-- any Magical Girl could sense a Witch and know it for what it was. And the space had been distorted, just like a Labyrinth. Except the others had been with her, and when Sana stumbles out into an entirely unfamiliar area... she's alone. Out of sheer habit, she banishes her transformation completely, leaving her a simple pigtailed girl in a burgundy uniform, but... it still also leaves her alone and with no clear explanation as to what just happened.
... There are... people around, she notices, but no one who takes notice of her, due to the nature of her wish. So clearly there's no one who's been wielding magic? ]
O-oh... but that means there's no one I can ask, either...
... There are... people around, she notices, but no one who takes notice of her, due to the nature of her wish. So clearly there's no one who's been wielding magic? ]
O-oh... but that means there's no one I can ask, either...
[He knows the layout of Shinra Electric Power Company as thoroughly as a man knows his home. He knows it so intimately that he walks these same halls in his dreams, knows each door and where it leads from broom closet to board room, can tell which floor he’s on via the conversations that buzz across them, or which distinct pitch of quiet hum emanates from the installed lighting overhead. And while he has spent years in this place — all the years that he knows — there are still sections of headquarters that he avoids if possible. The Science Department is at the top of that list, a place only business will bring Sephiroth striding into, and he will make a point to leave as soon as that same business is done.
Today, it was nothing more than a report given to a cadre of white-frocked researchers, all of whom had gone hushed in his presence and nodded quietly as they took the files from him. He could feel their stares on his back as he left, but Sephiroth was too used to that, never enough to slow him down.
He passes by old laboratories on the way out, currently unused. Cold glass enclosures and sterile workspaces, neatly organized, and illuminated only by minimalistic ambient lights. There should be not a soul in these particular ones, more outdated than their counterparts (newer labs, higher tech and backed by much more money), but he can feel the materia on his person hum the same way it often does before it activates; this stops his step, causing him to glance about in mild disarray, ignorant as to how or why such a thing is happening.
Sephiroth’s eyes alight on a figure through the glass wall. A young girl, a face that he certainly does not recognize — and certainly looks out of place where she stands. His brow furrows, turning to face her, his voice muffled though his side of the glass.]
You’re not supposed to be in there.
[He hopes not, anyhow. Who exactly is she supposed to be?]
Today, it was nothing more than a report given to a cadre of white-frocked researchers, all of whom had gone hushed in his presence and nodded quietly as they took the files from him. He could feel their stares on his back as he left, but Sephiroth was too used to that, never enough to slow him down.
He passes by old laboratories on the way out, currently unused. Cold glass enclosures and sterile workspaces, neatly organized, and illuminated only by minimalistic ambient lights. There should be not a soul in these particular ones, more outdated than their counterparts (newer labs, higher tech and backed by much more money), but he can feel the materia on his person hum the same way it often does before it activates; this stops his step, causing him to glance about in mild disarray, ignorant as to how or why such a thing is happening.
Sephiroth’s eyes alight on a figure through the glass wall. A young girl, a face that he certainly does not recognize — and certainly looks out of place where she stands. His brow furrows, turning to face her, his voice muffled though his side of the glass.]
You’re not supposed to be in there.
[He hopes not, anyhow. Who exactly is she supposed to be?]
Eh--!
[ Sana jerks, pigtails flying in alarm as she quickly turns her head from side to side, and just as swiftly locates the speaker. Which does nothing to reassure her when he looks so massive and foreboding, his voice stern in her ears.
Another disapproving adult, and one who can see her, and she automatically ducks under a counter, hands defensively rising over her head. ]
I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be!
[ Sana jerks, pigtails flying in alarm as she quickly turns her head from side to side, and just as swiftly locates the speaker. Which does nothing to reassure her when he looks so massive and foreboding, his voice stern in her ears.
Another disapproving adult, and one who can see her, and she automatically ducks under a counter, hands defensively rising over her head. ]
I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be!
[It’s not a reaction he expected, but it is unsurprising if she’s found herself in the wrong place. His brows, usually unmarred by too much emotion, knit together more sternly.
She’s ducked under the counter, so Sephiroth can only see her shadowed form in the dim lighting. He takes a moment to glance around, wondering if anyone nearby might have an answer to this conundrum, but this corridor is empty with the exception of the random passerby on their way to elevator — like himself.
How did she get in here? Clearance was required to reach the labs, to even operate the elevators from ground floor all the way up to this one. Wordlessly, Sephiroth moves to the door, punching in an access code via the nearby panel, and it slides open with a hiss. He strides in, and from her angle, she likely can only see dark black boots walking her way.
Stopping directly in front the counter, he pauses for about two seconds, then crouches down with his coat and silver hair sweeping the ground. Sephiroth’s green eyes glow faintly in the dark and he finally speaks.]
How did you get in here?
She’s ducked under the counter, so Sephiroth can only see her shadowed form in the dim lighting. He takes a moment to glance around, wondering if anyone nearby might have an answer to this conundrum, but this corridor is empty with the exception of the random passerby on their way to elevator — like himself.
How did she get in here? Clearance was required to reach the labs, to even operate the elevators from ground floor all the way up to this one. Wordlessly, Sephiroth moves to the door, punching in an access code via the nearby panel, and it slides open with a hiss. He strides in, and from her angle, she likely can only see dark black boots walking her way.
Stopping directly in front the counter, he pauses for about two seconds, then crouches down with his coat and silver hair sweeping the ground. Sephiroth’s green eyes glow faintly in the dark and he finally speaks.]
How did you get in here?
Edited 2019-12-26 15:12 (UTC)
[ Sana, who has been shrinking down smaller and smaller as the click of his boots gets louder, squeaks in terror when he suddenly ducks down and tries to catch her eye.
His eyes... glow, a bit like a cat's, but it's not a comforting thought right now. ]
I-- I don't know, I don't know where here is--! I just--
How can you even see me??
His eyes... glow, a bit like a cat's, but it's not a comforting thought right now. ]
I-- I don't know, I don't know where here is--! I just--
How can you even see me??
[Retreat any further into herself, and he thinks she might disappear altogether. She’s frightened, but whether of him (not unusual) or the circumstances (still confusing) is up for debate.
He assesses for a moment, not afraid to let a silence settle between them. It’s obvious that something is working behind his eyes, because that line across his brow has not left.]
Because your hiding spot isn’t as effective as you think.
[What an odd question with an obvious answer. Ducking behind the counter after he had so clearly spotted her wasn’t going to do this girl any good.]
You didn’t answer my question. How did you get here?
[And she didn’t know where she was? All the stranger.]
He assesses for a moment, not afraid to let a silence settle between them. It’s obvious that something is working behind his eyes, because that line across his brow has not left.]
Because your hiding spot isn’t as effective as you think.
[What an odd question with an obvious answer. Ducking behind the counter after he had so clearly spotted her wasn’t going to do this girl any good.]
You didn’t answer my question. How did you get here?
[And she didn’t know where she was? All the stranger.]
[ He has to be... unusual. Unless her magic here isn't working, but she'd still been in her Magical Girl guise until she'd changed back herself. And the few people who had walked by had taken no notice of her, so Sana's brow also furrows, and she finally answers him in the world's smallest voice. ]
I was... with my friends. W-we were investigating something strange... but then the next moment, I was here, by myself.
I was... with my friends. W-we were investigating something strange... but then the next moment, I was here, by myself.
[An even more puzzling answer with no details, but at least it’s a start.]
This is Shinra Headquarters.
[He searches for recognition in her eyes. Anyone on Gaia would know the name Shinra — and anyone who knew would know why that’s problematic.
He thinks the Turks would throw a fit if they realized that a small girl managed to simply arrive on one of the restricted floors of the building just like that. An utterly glaring hole in security.]
What could you possibly have been investigating that would have led you here?
This is Shinra Headquarters.
[He searches for recognition in her eyes. Anyone on Gaia would know the name Shinra — and anyone who knew would know why that’s problematic.
He thinks the Turks would throw a fit if they realized that a small girl managed to simply arrive on one of the restricted floors of the building just like that. An utterly glaring hole in security.]
What could you possibly have been investigating that would have led you here?
[ To that, Sana's voice gets even softer as she averts her eyes, mumbling out something that sounds (if he's listening carefully) like "Witches". But she hadn't ever heard of Shinra, which should be damning enough if he's wondering about her status as any kind of native. She hadn't even looked... well. Even more dismayed than she's already feeling. ]
Witches?
[He definitely heard that, but it makes even less sense than before.
Sephiroth says nothing more, waiting to see if she grants him a reply first. When he sees there’s little more than fear there, his hopes of gaining more information dissipate.
He tries at something else, then.]
Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?
[He definitely heard that, but it makes even less sense than before.
Sephiroth says nothing more, waiting to see if she grants him a reply first. When he sees there’s little more than fear there, his hopes of gaining more information dissipate.
He tries at something else, then.]
Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?
... Just... so you know, I'm-- I'm useless to you, so you don't need to make sure I'm okay.
[ She's just going to be preemptive here. ]
[ She's just going to be preemptive here. ]
[All right, also not exactly the expected reply.]
What makes you think I’m asking because I want to use you?
[A beat.]
I’m only trying to understand what’s happened. You don’t need to be afraid. [Probably.]
What makes you think I’m asking because I want to use you?
[A beat.]
I’m only trying to understand what’s happened. You don’t need to be afraid. [Probably.]
I-I'm only good if I'm useful... that's what a lot of people thought.
[ HOW CAN SHE NOT BE AFRAID, LOOK AT HIM. ]
[ HOW CAN SHE NOT BE AFRAID, LOOK AT HIM. ]
[He’s quiet again — it’ll soon become apparent that Sephiroth is not big on talking — while he decides what to make of that remark. He would say she’s young for that level of expectation, but his own experiences tell him it’s not unusual. For those with roles to play, or are expected to reach a benchmark set by others, invisible goals always present, that’s merely a state of normalcy.]
They’ll tell you that here, too. But only to the employees.
[Re...assuring? Well. He tries.
And he extends a hand.]
Which you’re obviously not. Come on, you can’t stay under there.
They’ll tell you that here, too. But only to the employees.
[Re...assuring? Well. He tries.
And he extends a hand.]
Which you’re obviously not. Come on, you can’t stay under there.
... W-what are you going to do with me?
[ Though she'll slowly reach out to take his hand. ]
[ Though she'll slowly reach out to take his hand. ]
[ 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?
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?
[Her hand in his, Sephiroth ushers her out of her hiding place, standing to his full height soon after. His silver hair sways behind him.]
I’m going to take you to the front and see if anyone knows what to do with you.
[Because while her tale is certainly a... compelling one, it’s quite possible none of it is true, and she’s just the lost daughter of an employee, or somehow has wandered in without explanation, yet not necessarily due to witches and what-have-you.]
I’m going to take you to the front and see if anyone knows what to do with you.
[Because while her tale is certainly a... compelling one, it’s quite possible none of it is true, and she’s just the lost daughter of an employee, or somehow has wandered in without explanation, yet not necessarily due to witches and what-have-you.]
[ ... He's absurdly tall and Sana probably looks like a tiny child standing next to him, clutching at his hand.
But. Oh, well. This is her lot in life, and her shoulders slump in resignation. He'll see in due time that finding out who and where she belongs to won't be as simple as he's hoping. ]
But. Oh, well. This is her lot in life, and her shoulders slump in resignation. He'll see in due time that finding out who and where she belongs to won't be as simple as he's hoping. ]
Page 1 of 6