Genesis. This had to be his doing. Just another surprise that he'd orchestrated for Sephiroth to be led into. To think he had been so naive to take the bait, in the first place, was bitter indeed; that he had hoped Genesis would still be inside the scope of redemption, even risked his own reputation on the same, drowned his spirit even further.
The walls of the corridors of the 25th Floor of the Shinra HQ, where Sephiroth had been working down from his rendezvous with Angeal and Zack, shook menacingly. He paused as another winged, semi-degraded Genesis-copy fell at his feet. Sephiroth could feel the unmistakable charging of energy in the air that told him a summon was being used nearby. The walls shook again, more vibrantly then-
-shattered.
Except it wasn't only his surroundings that appeared to shatter like glass - but the whole of reality itself. Instinctively Sephiroth had thrown an arm up to shield his eyes from fragments that, it soon came to be realized, never sprayed him. As he peered out over the top of his forearm whilst lowering said guard, the void that he suddenly was sinking into at an alarming rate seemed to grow chillier by the second, more completely engulfing in its darkness in time with the racing pulse inside Sephiroth's chest. As the seconds ticked by, he could feel strength leaking from him somehow-
Had the building collapsed or something and he was bleeding out somewhere in the rubble? Now wouldn't that be an anti-climatic end for Shinra's top SOLDIER? Is this what unconsciousness, in the moments before death, felt like?
A red light generated for itself a form before him and as Sephiroth watched it swirled and grew itself into a jagged shape, not too dissimilar to how he had read that materia appeared in its natural form. The warmth from it, in the chilled abyss was a veritable beacon-
Warmth that was verified as gloved fingers closed around it.
Arrival - 3rd District: Crystal of Fire "Wake up"
Was that a voice, or just the thrum of some distant machinery in the background? Sephiroth had been listening for something like that after all, if his hazy theory about being buried by a collapsing building held any weight to it at all, so it wasn't any surprise that the first soothing tones weren't registered. Lain out on his back on the pavement by the Crystal of Fire, Sephiroth did stir a little though. Albeit only to minutely roll shoulders backwards and turn his face away from the heat he could feel starting to prickle uncomfortably at the end of his nose; was that sunlight? or torchlight behind closed eyes? He'd be out of here soon enough.
"Wake up, Kupo!"
That voice registered. Kupo. Wha-
Eyebrows drew together as if to protest, eyelids squinted open next as the world at first burned like white fire into retinas. Sephiroth blinked, finally focusing on the details nearest him - the concrete that ran out away from underneath him before meeting with housing he didn't recognize. One more blink and then he slid eyes to the other extreme of his field of vision- a red shape swam within a larger white-
"Kup-oooo!"
One moogle that had climbed up onto Sephiroth's chest and was leaning over his head whilst trying to stir him, was promptly removed with a reactive sweep of a forearm as Sephiroth instantly sat up and peered around. Pushing up against both hands he found a crystal he had been clutching tightly and he spent a few heavy moments studying the shard. Eyes lowered to his palm, flicked up and around the other small white, red pom-pom topped moogles gathered around, and finally down onto light-armor that Sephiroth was certain he'd never be seen dead in ever, before shaking his head as if to dismiss the hallucination. It had to be, after all.
"...Hero of Light..."
Sephiroth hadn't been listening to the small, almost timid moogle that had been knocked off of him a moment before. Too wound up in his own thoughts. Reality doesn't shatter like that, there was no such powerful magic even if Genesis was mad enough to use it. Moogles aren't real. Just as Sephiroth would never be seen to wield-
Masamune was lain out alongside him, it's hilt just an arms extension away. Lightly greaved -with purple armor trimmed with silver edging- legs bent up and with more of an effort than Sephiroth preferred he swung his weight forwards and got to his feet. Lying in the sun too long, caused this lethargy, no doubt. The armor he was clad in probably did no favors to that point, underneath it already felt much too warm and sticky.
But I've never had a problem with overheating-
The moogle, whom he would come later to know as Spencer, had given up trying to communicate verbally -at least for the time being- to a man that wasn't listening to him. Instead it wrapped its stubby front paws around the pommel of Masamune as best he could and a few flurried wing-flaps later did manage to lift the great sword into the air. Only about half a foot or so, but by the scrape of the sharpened steel on the concrete, it was enough for Sephiroth to notice the gesture. It felt strange taking his sword from the small, supposed to be fictional, creature but Sephiroth did flash a grateful smile before turning his attention back to everything else going on around him.
Spencer, the smaller than average, bespectacled moogle followed at a cautious distance. Unable to figure out just yet how best to approach the intimidatingly taller Hero of Light. There were a lot of things to be explained but it seemed Sephiroth was determined to figure it out on his own rather than asking.
Festival of Light Activities
i) Theater Play It seemed a rather popular attraction out of what was left of the Festival of Light. Impossible to miss within the 9th District, it was Spencer who had finally plucked up some courage to flutter up to Sephiroth's shoulder height while he regarded the theater that a vast number of other people (not all of them human either) were congregating towards. The moogle had already learned not to touch, poke or pull at any part of Sephiroth directly; just watching him had taught Spencer how quickly irritated he got by just the odd strand of his long silver hair getting caught between armor plates at his back. He knew that he could help Sephiroth by affording him clothing he was more suited to, but the moogle wanted this 'Hero' to learn that he needed to ask, first.
"I'm not one for poetry and plays." He commented gruffly, affording his small companion a carefully guarded glance. Sephiroth still firmly believed this had to some trauma-induced dream, probably a side-effect of the medical treatment he had to be receiving. But knowing his regeneration- it wouldn't be long.
"Then drop the preconception, kupo." Spencer matter-of-factly rolled his small voice back at Sephiroth from the side. "I guarantee its not a waste of time."
With a restrained sigh, Sephiroth advanced towards the Theater with Spencer doing a better job, than before, of keeping up to his height and long strides.
He watched the play from quite high up in the stands, arms folded loosely about waist height and leant with a shoulder against a wooden pillar. Spencer, finally, had been permitted a seat on the opposite plate of armor. There were lacking seats for moogles, after all, being so packed in.
At their basest, all epic plays told the same story. Good vs Evil, the hero (or heroes, in multiple) saving the world, even the tragic sacrifice of the Warrior-hero could have earned an eye roll in it's predictability. As an enactment of the legend his moogle kept going on about, though, Sephiroth knew it couldn't be all that accurate. Being a Hero was a lot less clean, and certainly less romantic than all that; he should know. A line from LOVELESS came to mind though;
Legend shall speak Of sacrifice at World's end
By the end of the play a deep, concerned frown had scored its way into Sephiroth's features. Drilled into his head or what? But of course Genesis would play on his unconscious mind now, considering that latest stab in the back.
ii) Fireworks It had been a long day. Sephiroth already felt a tiredness, like no other in recent memory, that had begun to work its way deeper into all the tendons holding his frame together. Throbbing dully ever since he had finally asked Spencer to swap out his Warrior-class armor into clothing that he was much more comfortable wearing. Leather with silver pauldrons was his signature look after all, even if Sephiroth was sure he'd never quite felt so wet in places beneath it. Details that weren't worth pondering over; at least his hair wasn't getting caught in plating anymore.
As the first flurry of fireworks lit up the sky Sephiroth figured there would be little point attempting to retire to his -apparently free- house with such festivities going on.
So instead, still with Spencer at a shoulder-height small distance behind him, Sephiroth stood silently on the outskirts of the crowd in the 1st District, similarly observing the display. He'd dropped the folded arms a short while ago out of discomfort than anything else and again wiped at a sheen of sweat on his forehead, between chin-length bangs, with the back of a hand.
It'd all be over soon, he had to be really waking up now.
Sephiroth
Genesis. This had to be his doing. Just another surprise that he'd orchestrated for Sephiroth to be led into. To think he had been so naive to take the bait, in the first place, was bitter indeed; that he had hoped Genesis would still be inside the scope of redemption, even risked his own reputation on the same, drowned his spirit even further.
The walls of the corridors of the 25th Floor of the Shinra HQ, where Sephiroth had been working down from his rendezvous with Angeal and Zack, shook menacingly. He paused as another winged, semi-degraded Genesis-copy fell at his feet. Sephiroth could feel the unmistakable charging of energy in the air that told him a summon was being used nearby. The walls shook again, more vibrantly then-
-shattered.
Except it wasn't only his surroundings that appeared to shatter like glass - but the whole of reality itself. Instinctively Sephiroth had thrown an arm up to shield his eyes from fragments that, it soon came to be realized, never sprayed him. As he peered out over the top of his forearm whilst lowering said guard, the void that he suddenly was sinking into at an alarming rate seemed to grow chillier by the second, more completely engulfing in its darkness in time with the racing pulse inside Sephiroth's chest. As the seconds ticked by, he could feel strength leaking from him somehow-
Had the building collapsed or something and he was bleeding out somewhere in the rubble? Now wouldn't that be an anti-climatic end for Shinra's top SOLDIER? Is this what unconsciousness, in the moments before death, felt like?
A red light generated for itself a form before him and as Sephiroth watched it swirled and grew itself into a jagged shape, not too dissimilar to how he had read that materia appeared in its natural form. The warmth from it, in the chilled abyss was a veritable beacon-
Warmth that was verified as gloved fingers closed around it.
Arrival - 3rd District: Crystal of Fire
"Wake up"
Was that a voice, or just the thrum of some distant machinery in the background? Sephiroth had been listening for something like that after all, if his hazy theory about being buried by a collapsing building held any weight to it at all, so it wasn't any surprise that the first soothing tones weren't registered. Lain out on his back on the pavement by the Crystal of Fire, Sephiroth did stir a little though. Albeit only to minutely roll shoulders backwards and turn his face away from the heat he could feel starting to prickle uncomfortably at the end of his nose; was that sunlight? or torchlight behind closed eyes? He'd be out of here soon enough.
"Wake up, Kupo!"
That voice registered. Kupo. Wha-
Eyebrows drew together as if to protest, eyelids squinted open next as the world at first burned like white fire into retinas. Sephiroth blinked, finally focusing on the details nearest him - the concrete that ran out away from underneath him before meeting with housing he didn't recognize. One more blink and then he slid eyes to the other extreme of his field of vision- a red shape swam within a larger white-
"Kup-oooo!"
One moogle that had climbed up onto Sephiroth's chest and was leaning over his head whilst trying to stir him, was promptly removed with a reactive sweep of a forearm as Sephiroth instantly sat up and peered around. Pushing up against both hands he found a crystal he had been clutching tightly and he spent a few heavy moments studying the shard. Eyes lowered to his palm, flicked up and around the other small white, red pom-pom topped moogles gathered around, and finally down onto light-armor that Sephiroth was certain he'd never be seen dead in ever, before shaking his head as if to dismiss the hallucination. It had to be, after all.
"...Hero of Light..."
Sephiroth hadn't been listening to the small, almost timid moogle that had been knocked off of him a moment before. Too wound up in his own thoughts. Reality doesn't shatter like that, there was no such powerful magic even if Genesis was mad enough to use it. Moogles aren't real. Just as Sephiroth would never be seen to wield-
Masamune was lain out alongside him, it's hilt just an arms extension away. Lightly greaved -with purple armor trimmed with silver edging- legs bent up and with more of an effort than Sephiroth preferred he swung his weight forwards and got to his feet. Lying in the sun too long, caused this lethargy, no doubt. The armor he was clad in probably did no favors to that point, underneath it already felt much too warm and sticky.
But I've never had a problem with overheating-
The moogle, whom he would come later to know as Spencer, had given up trying to communicate verbally -at least for the time being- to a man that wasn't listening to him. Instead it wrapped its stubby front paws around the pommel of Masamune as best he could and a few flurried wing-flaps later did manage to lift the great sword into the air. Only about half a foot or so, but by the scrape of the sharpened steel on the concrete, it was enough for Sephiroth to notice the gesture. It felt strange taking his sword from the small, supposed to be fictional, creature but Sephiroth did flash a grateful smile before turning his attention back to everything else going on around him.
Spencer, the smaller than average, bespectacled moogle followed at a cautious distance. Unable to figure out just yet how best to approach the intimidatingly taller Hero of Light. There were a lot of things to be explained but it seemed Sephiroth was determined to figure it out on his own rather than asking.
Festival of Light Activities
i) Theater Play
It seemed a rather popular attraction out of what was left of the Festival of Light. Impossible to miss within the 9th District, it was Spencer who had finally plucked up some courage to flutter up to Sephiroth's shoulder height while he regarded the theater that a vast number of other people (not all of them human either) were congregating towards. The moogle had already learned not to touch, poke or pull at any part of Sephiroth directly; just watching him had taught Spencer how quickly irritated he got by just the odd strand of his long silver hair getting caught between armor plates at his back. He knew that he could help Sephiroth by affording him clothing he was more suited to, but the moogle wanted this 'Hero' to learn that he needed to ask, first.
"I'm not one for poetry and plays." He commented gruffly, affording his small companion a carefully guarded glance. Sephiroth still firmly believed this had to some trauma-induced dream, probably a side-effect of the medical treatment he had to be receiving. But knowing his regeneration- it wouldn't be long.
"Then drop the preconception, kupo." Spencer matter-of-factly rolled his small voice back at Sephiroth from the side. "I guarantee its not a waste of time."
With a restrained sigh, Sephiroth advanced towards the Theater with Spencer doing a better job, than before, of keeping up to his height and long strides.
He watched the play from quite high up in the stands, arms folded loosely about waist height and leant with a shoulder against a wooden pillar. Spencer, finally, had been permitted a seat on the opposite plate of armor. There were lacking seats for moogles, after all, being so packed in.
At their basest, all epic plays told the same story. Good vs Evil, the hero (or heroes, in multiple) saving the world, even the tragic sacrifice of the Warrior-hero could have earned an eye roll in it's predictability. As an enactment of the legend his moogle kept going on about, though, Sephiroth knew it couldn't be all that accurate. Being a Hero was a lot less clean, and certainly less romantic than all that; he should know. A line from LOVELESS came to mind though;
Legend shall speak
Of sacrifice at World's end
By the end of the play a deep, concerned frown had scored its way into Sephiroth's features. Drilled into his head or what? But of course Genesis would play on his unconscious mind now, considering that latest stab in the back.
ii) Fireworks
It had been a long day. Sephiroth already felt a tiredness, like no other in recent memory, that had begun to work its way deeper into all the tendons holding his frame together. Throbbing dully ever since he had finally asked Spencer to swap out his Warrior-class armor into clothing that he was much more comfortable wearing. Leather with silver pauldrons was his signature look after all, even if Sephiroth was sure he'd never quite felt so wet in places beneath it. Details that weren't worth pondering over; at least his hair wasn't getting caught in plating anymore.
As the first flurry of fireworks lit up the sky Sephiroth figured there would be little point attempting to retire to his -apparently free- house with such festivities going on.
So instead, still with Spencer at a shoulder-height small distance behind him, Sephiroth stood silently on the outskirts of the crowd in the 1st District, similarly observing the display. He'd dropped the folded arms a short while ago out of discomfort than anything else and again wiped at a sheen of sweat on his forehead, between chin-length bangs, with the back of a hand.
It'd all be over soon, he had to be really waking up now.