[sephiroth's voice echoing in his head should be alarming, but it's a lesser kind of torment than most other things are. for all that this world has been a sequence of impossible images and dreamlike fugues, this situation in the now seems the most calm—the most normal it's been, despite this feeling of something wrong taking place.]
[it's the sound of voices, of people, that fuels cloud's curiosity to move forward and towards the surgical curtains. he draws it back a little more with a hand, slowly and carefully... but it's like he's not there at all.]
[scientists stand there, white lab coats, syringes at hand, clipboards at the ready. his eyes are unable to focus on who is on the surgical table, but the edges slowly... slowly start to sharpen the more he focuses his gaze away from the figure directly. these are not memories of his own, but they're—interposing with someone else's. sephiroth?]
[he draws closer towards the table, almost dreading what he'll see if he can focus his eyes on the face of the individual.]
[and when he does look down, and actually manages to focus, fear grips him at the unexpected sight. a strange coloration on the skin, long white hair, and glowing purple eyes that make direct eye contact with him. jenova— a shake of his head and it changes, a younger sephiroth taking her place, an all-knowing smile as he looks at cloud. but it's not the same sephiroth as the one in his head right now. looking up, the scientists who had seemed unable to notice him earlier are all now looking directly at him, unmoving.]
You know this place.
[the memories are not his own, and as unnerved as he feels, cloud takes several steps back, away from the surgical table and pushing past the curtains.]
no subject
[it's the sound of voices, of people, that fuels cloud's curiosity to move forward and towards the surgical curtains. he draws it back a little more with a hand, slowly and carefully... but it's like he's not there at all.]
[scientists stand there, white lab coats, syringes at hand, clipboards at the ready. his eyes are unable to focus on who is on the surgical table, but the edges slowly... slowly start to sharpen the more he focuses his gaze away from the figure directly. these are not memories of his own, but they're—interposing with someone else's. sephiroth?]
[he draws closer towards the table, almost dreading what he'll see if he can focus his eyes on the face of the individual.]
[and when he does look down, and actually manages to focus, fear grips him at the unexpected sight. a strange coloration on the skin, long white hair, and glowing purple eyes that make direct eye contact with him. jenova— a shake of his head and it changes, a younger sephiroth taking her place, an all-knowing smile as he looks at cloud. but it's not the same sephiroth as the one in his head right now. looking up, the scientists who had seemed unable to notice him earlier are all now looking directly at him, unmoving.]
You know this place.
[the memories are not his own, and as unnerved as he feels, cloud takes several steps back, away from the surgical table and pushing past the curtains.]