PSL; [EYES SUNK IN SMOKE-DRIED FACE]

[supersoldier]

sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring (end of the line)
maybe a diamond ring


[There is something about his grace that is being upended, pulled to pieces by the threat of a new revelation hanging over his head. He can feel it, the dreaded fragments slotting into place, each page of every book filled to the brim with Professor Gast’s scribblings. His composure is starting to go askew, as if the foundations of his world might disappear beneath each step he takes across the manor's basement library — like it might swallow him whole if he stands in one place for too long.

It’s a taut string about to snap. Something on the verge of breaking, shearing away at a life he used to know, until— Until…

Until suddenly the world is all white and chill, and his graceless form is deposited so hard against the ground that he feels his knees crack against the cavern floor. Silver hair slides across his shoulders and its edges pool at his hands, palms kept flat on the earth, the only thing keeping him balanced.

Instinct takes over, as it often does. Masamune has skid several feet away, blade glinting in what light there is in this place. Sephiroth’s world is reeling for a second time, for reasons altogether unpleasant but far more unknown. But sharp eyes snap up, jaw gone hard, searching for someone to pin the hot blame upon.]

What is this? [He repeats, low, cold—] What’s the meaning of this?