[He watches as Cloud’s consciousness returns to him, slowly at first, and then jarringly, like waking from a nightmare. Sephiroth’s smile is unwavering as he considers how quickly he relies on aggression, body language gone so tight like he’s about to snap. It makes sense, of course, given what limited information he possesses, so far back in time that he cannot yet fathom the whole picture. How could he expect him to? He’s so ignorant, still.

Masamune is gripped in his left hand. It’s a part of him as much as the rest of his body, this blade at his side. It glints in the shining light of the universe twirling above them, time churning in waves. Stardust sliding across the void like foam pushed by the sea. Sephiroth only stands, not moving to attack.]

A mistake. An error in the flow. Even your beloved Planet can only unwind so much, and so quickly.

[Neither of them is supposed to be here, but who is he to deny the chance to speak with Cloud?]

We cannot linger, of course. But how long might we stay? Is this much like your dreams, I wonder?