finalflight | PSL; WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN?

[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.

His smile is a sliver of a crescent moon.]

Wake up, Cloud.

[Sephiroth hates parties.

He hates the social expectations of conversation and amicability. It’s tiring to the core of someone who possesses an anti-social mind, and Sephiroth much prefers to observe a crowd than to be at the center of it. The atmosphere is too abuzz with life, too loud, and there are too many smiles around him that are obviously fake, conciliatory, and reeking of showmanship. He dislikes superficiality — the dance of corporate politics is less a dance and more a web of entrapment. One wrong step, and you’re caught, frozen, and scrutinized by all those surrounding.

Shinra parties, in particular, are the worst about it. Someone is always trying to climb the ladder to a promotion or forming quiet conspiracies against co-workers under the guise of a shared drink. An airy laugh. The decadence is absurd and obscene, illustrating how gilded it feels, but he finds himself expecting it. He’s been with this corporation long enough to know the level of self-importance put on by a man like Rufus Shinra.

He’s only here out of obligation. The star employee would be missed, and more importantly, talked about ceaselessly if he were not present. And so Sephiroth counts the hours, watching the face of a filigree-laden clock that likely cost more than his annual salary hung on a nearby wall, willing time to move faster. He moves from crowd to crowd like a ghost, exchanging the bare minimum of words, and even makes his way to the bar once so that others will stop telling him that he should get something to drink.

When he nears the counter, sliding into an empty space to get someone’s attention, a flash of bond hair catches in green eyes, and he pauses. The ambient noise of the crowd turns into a dull hum, and Sephiroth’s mouth twists into a frown. He knows this man, his back turned to him, barely perceiving his profile. He’d know it anywhere.]

Cloud?

[Is that really him? It can't be. (He shouldn't have come this way.)]

Edited 2020-05-17 17:04 (UTC)

[tifa's idea of bringing more attention to the bar in the dip of activity between holidays was to, of course, do something a little unexpected. a costume party? cloud had asked, not really thinking he would have to participate in it—probably an idea that would come and go, as it usually did, without a real possibility of becoming a real thing. unfortunately for cloud, more than just tifa was involved in the logistics of it, and as the weeks went by of delivering products ordered by the bar and working as a bouncer most nights (and a fill-in server in the busier ones), cloud realized that not only was 'costume party' being thrown about the walls of the seventh heaven, but outside, even as he traversed back home. soon enough, there were posters announcing the event, and it wasn't until a week before that cloud was hit with the reality of things.]

[there was going to be a costume party, whether he liked it or not. and, honestly? he didn't mind it—it just meant people were going to be a little more rowdy than usual, and maybe even more prone to getting drunk—but the idea was entertained that cloud should dress up too, and he had no say in what he would wear.]

[resigned to his fate, he woke up early and drank an energy drink for breakfast, belatedly deciding to tell sephiroth about the party. was it kosher to let him know on the same day of the event? sephiroth didn't like such things, so surely he would appreciate not having to stress out about social standings with cloud's friends for days before it was to happen.]

[but the way cloud had hesitated, as he put the poster down in front of sephiroth as the man got ready for work, and the way he deflected any questions with vague answers and an avoidance of eye contact—even sephiroth could read that there was something perhaps worth seeing. i'll probably end up sleeping over at tifa's. it'll be a long one. don't stay up, basically—perhaps it would be worth seeing how busy the party actually is? all cloud knows is that the moment he arrives with some extra boxes of booze to put in the back, he's getting pushed around to 'get ready.']

[he should have said he was sick. came down with the flu, or something.]

[the party is a success, all things considered, and busy as one would expect. tifa managed to get some local band to play, ended up having to set up a place in front of the bar—let people mingle outside, on the stairs, let the crowd breathe easy rather than cramming everyone inside. cloud keeps a careful eye out, as he's still working security (or trying to, when he was given a moment), but he's doing it while standing in heels, in a dress that is form-fitting and ridiculously frilly, fishnet sleeves hugging at his arms and accentuating his biceps, yet somehow softening the sharp edges of his elbows and shoulders. there was so much he could do with a stony look, and tifa was making him walk around to help out with the orders at the bar.]

[so down the stairs he goes, with an order of drinks. easy enough, should not be a problem at all, were his ankles not feeling particularly wobbly because of the heels. not even bracing himself against the banister helps much, as he ultimately ends up tripping and fumbling to keep the glasses from falling off the tray—except they do, and the people around quiet (even the music stops) at the sound of broken glass. unfortunately, it only means that everyone's attention falls on cloud, who is looking pretty red in the face, perhaps complementing the pigtail extensions clipped to his hair.]

Shit.

[he manages to mutter, trying to pick himself up despite the ache on his leg from biffing it so spectacularly. his efforts don't go unnoticed, as someone tries to help him up, and cloud reluctantly takes the offered hand—someone in the crowd offering a cheer, as to dispel the silence from the embarrassing situation. it's only when cloud looks up, as he's helped to his feet, and music starts to stream again as do some of tifa's other helpers arriving to help clean up, that cloud meets the eyes of the person helping him—and it's the bright green eyes which surprise him.]

Sephiroth?

[a tentative step back, and cloud winces, holding tighter onto his boyfriend's arm, reassured by the contact now that he knows who it is.]

—spectacular timing, as usual.

[and so the mystery of whether sephiroth was going to show up or not is finally solved. cloud will not admit that he was curious to see if he would (expectant, almost?), and was hoping that he would—but not like this. blue eyes look away, embarrassed, as he tries to ascertain just in how much pain he is and whether he can stand on his own without resting his weight on the other.]

Edited 2020-11-09 00:43 (UTC)

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AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT........don't @ me

you know what? shut up