[Time and space are facets of the reality commanded by the Planet’s will. The Lifestream oversees its pull, denies its waxing and waning in favor of a rigid destiny set in stone, never straying from the path. But Sephiroth has seen the cracks in its armor before, sliding past them like a shadow (like a parasite), shearing those threads that keep it bound one by one, and watching as others work to unravel the rest. In the end, nothing is guaranteed to happen — not with the cloying touch, the gentle manipulation, of someone immune to Gaia's rules. Above it, meant to rule it. Himself. His Mother.
But now isn’t the time for that. There’s still so much to be done.
After all, even Sephiroth cannot foresee all the little knots in the tapestry. Perhaps he’s had a hand in creating them, these hitches in time and space, as if destiny had tried so hard to bind itself up again, it misplaced parts of itself, but they still surprise him in ways he finds novel. There are hitches in the path where travelers might be flung from their roads — creeping along time in one direction, oblivious — into a space that is undefinable, ineffable, terrifying, and beautiful. A place that has no origin, but is connected to life all the same.
He wakes up in such a place. Opens his eyes, and there he stands, with the great maw of the universe looming over them in such kaleidoscopic color that it seems close enough to brush his fingertips across the light. Long ago, perhaps, it would have inspired awe from the man, a time when he still possessed humanity enough to feel small in the universe. Now, it is just one more stop in a long process that culminates in the realization of his goals. Unexpected, yes, but to be dealt with, just as he deals with everything in his path.
Sephiroth lowers his gaze. At his feet, a man who he knows all too well, bound to him like the Planet is linked to the Lifestream. A part of him, churning in his veins, much in the same way.
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But now isn’t the time for that. There’s still so much to be done.
After all, even Sephiroth cannot foresee all the little knots in the tapestry. Perhaps he’s had a hand in creating them, these hitches in time and space, as if destiny had tried so hard to bind itself up again, it misplaced parts of itself, but they still surprise him in ways he finds novel. There are hitches in the path where travelers might be flung from their roads — creeping along time in one direction, oblivious — into a space that is undefinable, ineffable, terrifying, and beautiful. A place that has no origin, but is connected to life all the same.
He wakes up in such a place. Opens his eyes, and there he stands, with the great maw of the universe looming over them in such kaleidoscopic color that it seems close enough to brush his fingertips across the light. Long ago, perhaps, it would have inspired awe from the man, a time when he still possessed humanity enough to feel small in the universe. Now, it is just one more stop in a long process that culminates in the realization of his goals. Unexpected, yes, but to be dealt with, just as he deals with everything in his path.
Sephiroth lowers his gaze. At his feet, a man who he knows all too well, bound to him like the Planet is linked to the Lifestream. A part of him, churning in his veins, much in the same way.
His smile is a sliver of a crescent moon.]
Wake up, Cloud.