#and Cloud being programmed to tilt his head down and look at Vincent through his eyelashes in response

[getvalentined]

Strifentine Is Real screenshot dump!

Did I acquire these screenshots through literal hours of running around in Gold Saucer figuring out how Vincent is programmed to move and react to Cloud's actions and using that behavior to my advantage? Obviously.

Do they still count? Of course they do.

(While nothing in here is truly a spoiler in any major capacity, I am nonetheless tagging it as such for those people who don't even want to see screenshots with no context until they've finished the game.)

[almostlucidthoughts]

From fireballs in the sky to a shark in the stars: the astronomical artistry of Segar Passi

Elsie Passi, Author provided

When Uncle Segar Passi watches the position of the setting Sun from his front patio, he notes its location and relates that to the time of year and changes in seasonal cycles.

What he sees translates into his artworks. They are visually stunning, a rich tapestry of colours jumping off the frame with a palate that easily rivals Vincent van Gogh. This is reflected in the many awards he has garnered over the years.

Lidlid by Segar Passi (2011) Queensland Art Gallery

His artistic talent is matched only by the depth of his wisdom and cultural knowledge, which he teaches through his practice.

An island home

Turning 79 this year, Uncle Segar is a senior Meriam elder and a Dauareb man, meaning his community is originally from Dauar, the larger of the two small islands off the coast of Mer (the other being Waier) in the eastern Torres Strait.

The volcanic trio of islands are collectively known as the Murray Island group, and sit at the very tip of the Great Barrier Reef.

The Murray Island group in the eastern Torres Strait: Mer (foreground), Dauar (upper right) and Waier (upper left). Duane Hamacher

Professor Martin Nakata, a Torres Strait Islander and Pro-Vice Chancellor at James Cook University, brought me to Mer years ago to help the community document its star knowledge for education and community programs.

We stood on the beach near Uncle Segar’s house, watching the sunset near the double-hilled island of Dauar when he told me:

That place has powerful magic. If you want to learn about traditional star knowledge, you ask those elders. They’re the big dogs.

Looking to the artworks on the wall in Uncle Segar’s workshop, I noticed a plethora of subtle characteristics encoded within each one.

I know his artistic style is unique and aesthetically gorgeous, but I also know that every colour, brushstroke, motif and design has meaning. I see a painting showing a crescent Moon with the cusps pointing up. Above it are puffy cumulus clouds and the moonlight reflected in the choppy waters.

Kerkar Meb I (Left) and II (right), 2011. These paintings by Segar Passi show the changing orientation of the crescent Moon, which informs seasonal weather patterns. Segar Passi. QAGOMA, Brisbane.

Another painting, which looks nearly identical from a distance, shows the Moon tilted at an angle. The clouds above are cirrus, and the reflection of moonlight is clear and strong on the calm, still water.

In his characteristic soft voice, Uncle Segar explained the meaning behind this pair of paintings.

Every month there is a New Moon at a different angle. Did you ever notice this?

He explained how the New Moon (kerker meb) can tell you about the changing seasons if you look at the angle of its tilt. When the cusps are pointing up (Meb metalug em), it is the dry season, the Sager.

You will see large cumulus clouds in the evening sky and the water is choppy. When the cusps point at an angle (Meb uag em), the water is calm and you see cirrus clouds. This is the wet monsoon season, the Kuki. He pointed to the painting:

If the water looks rough and the Moon is pointed up, you know the winds will die down and the next day the water will be fine.

The art of knowledge

The paintings are a medium through which complex systems of knowledge are passed down. These systems are based on generations of collective observation, deduction and interconnection – a longstanding system of science.

Read more: The Moon plays an important role in Indigenous culture and helped win a battle over sea rights

Uncle Segar is an expert on clouds and weather, the plants and animals, the sea, land, and the sky. His knowledge is as deep as his artworks are captivating.

The self-taught artist developed his style in the 1960s and has since won several major awards for his work, gaining an international profile through his raw talent, complex works and lovely personality. But his passion is for local community, both on Mer and across the Torres Strait.

Uncle Segar’s work has appeared in local school books and seasonal calendars about traditional knowledge. He has also worked closely with me and other academics over the years, sharing Meriam Star Knowledge and co-authoring several research papers.

These include publications about traditional ways of interpreting the twinkling stars, the role of astronomy in song and dance, and the relationship between bright meteors and death rites in the Torres Strait.

Uncle Segar is currently contributing to a major book on Indigenous astronomy for a global audience and has been featured in recent Indigenous astronomy articles in Cosmos magazine. His knowledge has even been written into the Australian National Curriculum for schools across the country.

The flying spirits

This knowledge has found its way into films by some of the world’s most critically acclaimed directors. Members of the Mer community performed the Maier (Shooting Star) dance for the 2020 Werner Herzog and Clive Oppenheimer film Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds.

Fireball, Visitors from Darker Worlds.

Maier is a term from the Meriam Mir language referring to fireballs (exceptionally bright meteors), which are seen as a celestial personification of a recently deceased person’s spirit flying to Beig, the land of the dead.

The brightness, trajectory and sound of a Maier all have special meaning. If the Maier breaks into fragments and you see sparks fall (uir-uir), you know that person left behind a large family.

The trajectory of the Maier tells you where that person is from. And when you hear the booming sound (dum) as the fireball explodes, it tells you that person has arrived at their destination.

The Maier dance is originally from Mer but had not been performed on the island since 1969. In late 2019, the community approved Herzog and Oppenheimer to film the dance on Mer.

Led by Meriam elder Alo Tapim, four local dancers were taught the kab kar (sacred dance) and performed it on the beach at sunset just hours later, with cameras rolling. The segment you see at the end of the film is the first time the dance had been performed on Mer in 50 years.

A ‘Behind-the-Scenes’ photo of the community performing the Maier Dance on Mer at dusk for the film ‘Fireball’ in 2019. Duane Hamacher

Name in the stars

In 2020, his lifetime of work and his contributions to astronomy were recognised when the International Astronomical Union renamed the asteroid “1979 MH4” as “7733 Segarpassi”.

This is a 1.9km-wide asteroid in the main asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. It is 2.4 times farther from the Sun than Earth is, and takes 3.7 years to orbit the Sun.

Read more: From 7809 Marcialangton to 7630 Yidumduma: 5 asteroids named after Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people

Uncle Segar’s important contributions to culture and science are also encapsulated in the newly released commemorative coin “The Shark in the Stars”.

Released on March 4, 2021 by the Royal Australian Mint, this non-circulating coin features Uncle Segar’s artwork. It is the third and final instalment of the Star Dreaming series, and was so popular all 5,000 coins sold out within two hours.

Beizam, the Shark in the Stars. Uncirculated $1 coin released by the Royal Australian Mint. Royal Australian Mint

The celestial shark is called Beizam, a Meriam constellation formed by the bright stars of the Big Dipper (part of the Western constellation Ursa Major, the Big Bear). It traces out the head, body, fins and tail of the shark.

The changing position of the shark in the northern skies throughout the year is a seasonal marker that notes shifting seasons, when to hunt turtle, when to harvest yams, and informs the observer about the behaviour of the shark itself.

Read more: New coins celebrate Indigenous astronomy, the stars, and the dark spaces between them

When the nose of Beizam touches the horizon at sunset, sharks are feeding on sardines that swim in tight ribbons close to the shore. This occurs during the Sager, which can be a dangerous time to go for a dip.

Later in the year, as the shark dives below the horizon at dusk, you will see the first lightning of the coming monsoon.

Meriam people teach that water rushes through Beizam’s gills as it dives into the sea on the horizon, casting water into the sky which falls as the rains of the wet season, the Kuki.

Uncle Segar Passi continues to share his knowledge with the world, benefiting his community and the next generation of Meriam scholars. And we are exceptionally lucky and honoured to continue learning from Elders like him.

Read more: A shark in the stars: astronomy and culture in the Torres Strait

Duane W. Hamacher, Associate Professor, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

[leonawriter]

To Change A Sombre Morrow (chapter ten)

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Characters: Genesis, Sephiroth, Angeal, others.

Summary: Various people get to play the asshole. Some more intentionally than others. Genesis is vaguely ignorant - and unaware - and is starting to realise as much.

...

Genesis' mind turns into white static at the sudden addition of a familiar long blade unexpectedly appearing to clash against his own in the middle of his training.

His body responded automatically, patterns coming back by reflex while his mind is still struggling to catch up - not even Jenova cells at their strongest could recover that fast from a flash of fire to the face, a kick to the stomach area, his sword brought around to-

Nothing.

Adrenaline buzzes in his ears, a warning that something is wrong. The feeling that any moment now, there will be black feathers and silver hair. The conflict between the need to bring out his own wing for the ability to fly and to utilise the advanced combat capabilities it gave him and the agitated feeling that he was forgetting something, with how the wind didn't sting and the dust didn't dry his eyes or burn his skin-

There's a slight breeze as he turns around, only to see Sephiroth regarding him quite calmly from several feet away. Masamune is still drawn, but not attack-ready. He tilts his head, and the slight wind picks up his hair, obscuring his face even further. 

A Behemoth lay, sliced apart and completely motionless, on the ground between them, before disintegrating into pixels. The landscape stayed the same, although now that he was reminded that it was merely a digital representation of the Midgar wastes, a lot of things made much more sense.

"So. It seems your reaction to my presence wasn't merely a one off occurrence. I had wondered."

"If you wanted to spar, you could have just asked," Genesis bit back, nerves still on edge.

"That," Sephiroth said deliberately, "would have defeated the point entirely. And besides," he added, matter of fact, "you've been avoiding me again." 

Genesis' mouth opened to retort that no, he had not, but his hand tightened around Rapier's hilt. Remembered how his regained memories that had given him the unwanted gift of nightmares had left him unsure of how to handle his interactions for a time. He looked away, grimacing as he realised that they had noticed.

Avoidance hadn't been an issue in the past. His issues hadn't been the kind he'd felt the need to avoid people over, and in the few cases where they had been, it had been easy enough just to not bring up the problem, pretend it didn't exist. 

Being a deserter and fugitive had meant that the only times people had wanted to find him were when they wanted to hunt him down - and not usually to have a friendly discussion. As though he would have encouraged that sort of idea in the first place, at the time.

Waking up to a world post-Meteor had meant that he had been left to himself for the most part again. It was taken as a given that if you'd been part of SOLDIER, if anyone had worked for Shinra, then you'd need time to sort your head out.

Here and now... there was none of that. It seemed that he would constantly be discovering new ways in which his temporal displacement made life harder for him.

"...Honestly, I can't imagine what could have happened to you, to cause my presence to be that distressing." Sephiroth sounded... disturbed. Frustrated. Of course you wouldn't, was Genesis' immediate reaction, but that wouldn't do anything for either of them. "But if that is the case, then I will... remove myself."

Genesis closed his eyes, unsure who or what the surge of disgust and hatred brought about by those words was caused by or aimed at, as Sephiroth straightened, suddenly cold - no, withdrawn, that's what Cloud looks like whenever he's in one of his moods - and walked past him, dismissing his sword and terminating the program as he went, so that the environment around them dissolved into digital data as it turned back into the training room.

This is what I'm good at, isn't it? I push people away, and then I wonder why none of us can handle the pressure. Cloud's group had never been like this. Cloud's group had stuck together for as long as he'd known them. And before they'd been Cloud's group, Zack had done the same. I wonder if that's why all of this happened in the first place. 

They would probably know what to do, he thought bitterly. But the Goddess sent me.

"My friend, your desire is the giver of life, the Gift of the Goddess..."

Sephiroth paused, at the door.

"LOVELESS, again? You've moved to Act Three," he said, the words halting rather than the easy ribbing they'd once been.

"What else? But... no. I think we're still in the prologue."

Remembering what he'd said to Vincent, back in Nibelheim. Remembering how he looked at the calendars and found himself flicking through diaries and organisers, irritated at how slowly time passed, how much was still yet to happen, to be changed, to be stopped, and he felt like he had hardly moved, despite everything that he had accomplished.

"What an odd thing to say."

"Well, we still have a long way to go." He turned on his heel, to talk to Sephiroth's back rather than the wall. "I mean what I said before. If you want to spar, ask me. No one likes the ass who pokes at a person's issues just to see how they'll react," he said wryly.

"Oh? It almost sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Even knowing he was probably just referring to something relatively harmless, Genesis still flinched.

"I can't say I'm not fool enough anymore to say that's wrong," he mused, half in answer and half to himself.

Sephiroth huffed, head tilting forward slightly as he made the amused sound, before picking up his feet again and moving out of the training room altogether, but not before Genesis noticed that despite not knowing what he had been doing, some of the tension in Sephiroth's shoulders had loosened.

"Ha..."

Somehow, he didn't think that it could possibly be as simple as that.

...

"If it weren't for how you seem to have become allergic to doctors recently, I'd warn you away from the science department's floors," Angeal started saying the moment Genesis got in through the door of his office. "Actually, I'm still going to warn you to be careful."

He rolled his eyes, swept his hair away from his face, and leaned Rapier up against the wall before sitting heavily into his chair, and reaching for a pen, which he immediately started to tap onto the desk, taking some small pleasure in the fact that he knew it irritated his friend.

"I know that that already. They've been buzzing around like irritable wasps in white coats for a while now." Tap tap tap. He knew why, too, of course. Not that he was going to admit that any time soon. "The more pressing matter is why you're here. Don't you have an overexcitable puppy to be training?"

Angeal's brows raised, making Genesis wonder if he'd said something wrong, or if something had happened. 

"Lazard wanted you to look over these," Angeal said, waving a hand at a pile of files on his desk that he hadn't even noticed until then, "and I figured I'd stay to make sure you actually did."

Genesis flipped open the top file, only to find a nondescript, unfamiliar face staring back at him. A glance at the rest of the page showed him a name, some basic details, and notes from the Instructors that tested the cadets.

He opened up a few others, creating a small pile of chaos on his desk. Once or twice, a name or face stirred faint recollections in the back of his mind - years old, dusty memories - and even rarer, was the one time when he knew he remembered the prospective cadet, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"Lazard seems to have mixed up which department he's running, then. This is SOLDIER, not human resources. Or-" He cut himself off. There was no way that saying that SOLDIER were the human resource would be taken well. 

Angeal rolled his eyes, smiling even though Genesis could tell that there was at least some annoyance in his friend, too.

"That's more or less what Sephiroth said, but at least he's able to get out of it with the excuse that they're sending him back off to the frontlines in the next day or so. And supposedly, according to Lazard at least, they seem to think that if they play things right, the war will be over soon, so they'll be able to be more picky when it comes to new recruits."

Genesis bit back a snort at the poor excuse the science department had come up with; if Shinra had the resources, then they would continue creating SOLDIERs, and if they had the SOLDIERs, then they would create their own wars. The one they'd had with Wutai had been that way.

His amusement bled out at the reminder of how little time he had left.

"And they expect us to be able to tell just by looking at paperwork?" he asked. Typical Shinra.

Not for the first time, he was struck by how strange it was that he was working for them again. 

"Maybe they just didn't want to terrorise the cadets so early into their training."

His hand stilled as his eyes passed over a photo of a cadet with blond hair, but it was too curly, too dark, the face wrong, and when he looked closer, the eyes were still a light brown. Had to remind himself that no, Cloud would not be here yet, because if nothing else Genesis had flown back, and Hojo had probably used a company helicopter to get as close as he could. Cloud, having none of that, would take longer. Far longer.

He had to assume that in the original timeline he'd come from, none of this had happened. He certainly couldn't remember being asked to do such a thing before, no matter how distant or close he'd ever been with any of the cadets. Shinra had vetted the SOLDIER intake on basic merits and a psychological assessment to ensure they'd make it through the mako injections, and any that hadn't made it past that, they didn't hear anything further of, and that didn't always mean they'd just gotten shunted into the infantry. 

Which meant that he might even recognise some of these names and faces, which should in theory give him an edge - in theory, at least.

In practice, all looking at the files was doing for him was piling frustration onto more frustration - the overwhelming realisation that despite having lured at least a good number of these men and women - teenagers still, here, the birth dates couldn't lie unless the candidates had, and the faces looked young sometimes - he hardly remembered who they were. Who they'd been.

He almost let out a shaky laugh, holding his face in the hand that wasn't turning the pages of the files.

I used them. 

He'd known before. He'd had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact, even before Zack had reminded him of what having SOLDIER pride even meant. He'd been reminded, oh so politely, when Deepground had 'requested' his aid, and made him aware of what else had been done with his genetic information.

They thought I cared. Perhaps I had, before. They were wrong. I only cared about myself.

"I worry about you, sometimes."

Genesis tensed, abruptly reminded of Angeal's presence, having become so immersed in himself and his memories that he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. 

"Perhaps you're right to," he muttered under his breath, not looking away from a face that he knew that if he stared at it long enough, he would remember something he wished best left forgotten.

"What was that?"

His eyes finally closed. "When the war of the beast's brings about the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky, wings of light and dark spread afar..."

They're sending us all off to die valiantly for their cause. They think that Sephiroth will continue to be the perfect toy soldier they modelled him into  being, never once thinking that he might become bigger than any of this, or realise that the chains that bind him are as flimsy as cardboard, like I did. 

His pen began to tap again, a smile, not entirely pleasant, playing on his lips.

"Genesis..."

Angeal's tone was worried again, but a different sort of worry. It was almost nostalgic, the way it reminded him of how Angeal always had worried too much when he'd been planning something reckless. It was too bad he wasn't going to be able to share those ideas of his this time around.

 "You're planning something again, aren't you," Angeal carried on. "And you aren't going to tell anyone what you're doing again either, are you?" His friend looked away, and sighed. "When you went off last time, we had no idea where you'd gone until Lazard told us. We had to ask. And when you came back..."

Angeal trailed off. For the first time perhaps, Genesis noticed how tired his friend was. 

...Honestly, I can't imagine what could have happened to you, to cause my presence to be that distressing. But if that is the case, then I will... remove myself.

"Angeal, I..."

He wanted, more than anything in that moment, to explain everything, let the words fall from his mouth like dumbapples over the fences and walls that he seemed to have put up without even having realised that he had been putting down the wood and bricks between them. A peace offering.

He closed his eyes for just one moment, and saw Banora burning in front of him as he watched - an empty town with nothing left to destroy, as the Turks had merely been destroying the evidence of his own crimes.

"Zack's been complaining that he was actually starting to get somewhere with you, you know. Keeps saying you look at him like you can see his potential."

He could almost laugh. 

How could he say that he sometimes had that look in his eye because he had seen their future - a future where Zack had achieved that potential, carried Angeal's Buster Sword, because Angeal was dead?

He could just imagine the arguments, the accusations, the dismissals, the weapons drawn...

Genesis shook his head.

"I'll see what I can do," he said instead. 

His mind wandered toward the date. It was late September, now. He felt like he was lying.

...

He'd left Edge and Midgar behind without having told anyone, not long after regaining his energy, and being able to move around without someone looking like they were going to hold him at sword point simply for stepping out of line.

It's a familiar route, to Banora. He could probably fly there in his sleep, like how a chocobo knew its way home.

The journey had still taken a while, though, but that'd mostly been because he'd made an effort not to fly near too many people, and in the past three years, people had been rebuilding, and creating entirely new towns. It had changed the landscape, and the world had seemed a different place.

He's sure there's a an old children's story along those lines. From before Shinra, but sanitised so that anything the company had been displeased with had been removed - about a man who slept for a hundred years inside a crystal, and who had woken up to find that nothing was familiar, and all his friends were old.

Banora itself, he'd found as he'd approached on the back of a truck, had not changed all that much, though. 

If anything, the Lifestream must have found it easier to burst forth here, coming up through ways that were already open. A few places seemed a little more worn away than before, but in general...

What was new, was the few huts that had sprung up near the orchards, people picking the apples, which had made his fingers twitch for his materia, because some of those were his trees - his, damn it - but he had forced himself to look away, to focus on what he'd come here for.

The caves were colder than he remembered, but the routes hadn't changed. 

Rapier had been right where he'd left it, where it had fallen after his fight with Zack. The once beautiful sword had been caked with dirt, with a few patches of rust in places that had become damp, but none of that had mattered. It was and had been an old friend, a constant he had been glad to see once more.

He could still remember wiping it down briefly before wrapping it up to clean it properly later, and leaving.

"Wha- hey! Be careful in here, these caves can be dangerous!"

He'd laughed, at the voice that had echoed in toward him. It must have been late on the surface, and the sun had always set away from the entrance, but it had never been all that dark inside, and he'd known the way like any child did their own playground. Their home.

"You don't need to worry about me," he'd said, bemused, as he'd come out.

The man, who had been hauling a heavy crate of apples, had turned. Backed away, first one step, then another. 

"You..." Fear had laced the man's voice. His eyes, glowing, were wide. "They said you were dead," he said. "What do you want with us? Shinra's gone!"

"Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return..." He'd shaken his head. "Death and rumours of my demise have hardly held me back before. I fail to see why I should have adhered to them." He'd taken an apple, a single Banora White, while his other hand still held his old sword still in its wrappings. "As for your questions... nothing. I don't want anything from you."

He could still remember the terror in  the eyes of the former SOLDIER even weeks later, when he finally told Cloud, which had been while he was maintaining the sword back to perfect condition after its long disuse.

"I didn't merely recognise him," he'd said, in a light tone as though it wasn't important. As though it was simply some trivial matter, another item on the delivery list. "He served under me during the war. I'm fairly sure the only reason he didn't follow me when I encouraged desertion was something to do with not wanting to disappoint his family - saying that he'd attempt to work on Shinra from the inside."

Cloud hadn't said anything, although by the frown on his face he wasn't entirely unaffected. 

"The next time we saw each other," Genesis had carried on, harsh cracks in the edges of his carefree attitude appearing in both his voice and the more jagged movements he was making while cleaning, "I only saw him as an obstacle in my way. Honestly, he's lucky to be alive."

He'd told himself that was at least one positive in the entire situation. At least if you met the people you'd wronged, they were still alive to meet. You couldn't meet the ghosts you'd left behind.

After a while, he had resigned himself to the fact that he more than likely wasn't going to get any sort of reply. But then, Cloud was hardly the talkative type. Zack had been, would have said something already, but no matter how many of Zack's mannerisms he could see coming to the surface from time, Cloud wasn't Zack.

Then-

"I think... I think I know what you mean," Cloud had said. He'd looked over. Bright blue eyes had looked troubled, the same way that Genesis had started to recognise in any of them when they began to think too much of the past. "When we were fighting Shinra, I... for a long time, I didn't even really know who I was. But then when I did, when I remembered... I realised I'd probably been killing a lot of the people I once fought beside. Some of them... even recognised me. And I still had to keep fighting. It isn't the same, but..."

Understanding.

They were both traitors to their own people, just on different sides of history. One remembered with fear and the other looked up to. 

He'd nodded, and the subject had turned toward lighter subjects the next time anyone spoke.

...

Genesis walks out of Lazard's office and doesn't realise that he has his hand at his shoulder until Angeal asks him if it's giving him grief again. He shakes his head, and shrugs it off, because it hadn't been. 

Old habits were hard to kill, and it's easy to get lost in memories when events play out a little too similarly.

He'd been given his marching orders once again. To Wutai, and Fort Tamblin. He could still remember the way that Lazard had danced around the subject of what he would actually be doing the first time around; the way that they had both treated the briefing almost as a scene in some gaudy theatre production full of intrigue and betrayal.

One of the more dry derivative works of LOVELESS had focused on the politics of the countries at war, and the effect the heroes' actions had on the world. It had been both similar to, and nothing at all like, that.

This time, Lazard had glanced at him aside several times, words prodding lightly at prospective openings. Genesis had made a few pointed remarks, implications, loopholes in supposedly simple things.

Genesis Rhapsodos holds no love for Shinra, he had communicated with everything unsaid and implied. But he is a hero, no matter what manner of monster Shinra has made him, and Goddess help you if you try to make him anything less.

He knew the difference now. At least, wanted to think that.

But now - he brushed the hair from his face to keep his hand from going back to his shoulder, put on a smile, and kept walking.

...

He slips out of the Shinra building as it starts to grow dark, not bothering to change his clothes but walking with that exact sort of confidence that made people question what they were seeing, made them assume that he clearly had business being where he was.

It wasn't hard. It was something he'd had practice in since his childhood, after all, and had even encouraged Angeal to it when his friend had looked panicked enough that he would have been caught if he hadn't calmed down one time; Genesis would have been annoyed if he had been, given how Angeal, despite the difference in status, had been his friend. One of his only friends back then, at that. He'd preferred Angeal out of trouble, if possible.

The theatre he found wasn't in LOVELESS Avenue. Instead, his feet had taken him to somewhere between the slums and the lower class parts of the entertainment district. 

"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky," the man on the stage was saying. Genesis mouthed the words of the introduction to the act along with him - the bare bones of the story, the only thing that anyone could ever agree on, considering how many versions and derivative works there had been even at the time when it had been new. Now, even a slight change in wording could completely alter the tone of a scene.

It wasn't one of the expensive, extravagant productions to be found in one of the more upper class regions. Nor was it one of the philosophical, meaningful productions to be found in Junon, where the university students there used it as their outlet for exploration of the meaning of life.

The sets were shaky. The lines, often far more colloquial than Genesis was used to. Costumes were haphazard.

But the performance, despite everything else, had heart. For that, he could appreciate it, well worth his time far more than the easy viewing that he had been anticipating. A pleasant surprise.

Lost amid his own thoughts - about the play, their interpretation of it, the war, among other things - he knocks into someone on his way to the train that leads back to Sector Eight, and from there, the Shinra Building. He almost wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't heard the cut off cry as they fell.

He watches as she - and he even thinks he recognises her, auburn hair in a braid and light blue clothes - picks herself up again before he could even offer to help, if he had chosen to.

"Oh! I remember you," she said, "From the church, right?" She smiled. "Just passing through again, are you?"

Genesis raised his eyebrows at her. 

"Do you have a habit of remembering everyone who passes through that church?"

"No. Just the-" her face twisted for a moment, as though she were trying to figure out the right words to use. As though she's forgotten her script, said the part of him that was still riding the high of having come out of a halfway decent performance. "Interesting ones," she finished.

"Fascinating," Genesis drawled out. "Unfortunately, I don't have time to ask just how you find me interesting."

"That's all right. I'm sure we'll meet again."

The words followed him all the way back to his rooms in Shinra. She'd probably meant that given how they'd met by chance twice already in spite of Midgar being the sprawling metropolis it was, the probability was high that it would happen again.

A shiver ran down his spine, however, remembering the exact way that something about her had tugged on the edges of his perception - not quite there, but almost, like a word on the tip of his tongue. 

From the church, right?

It was her church. Or at least, we all think of it as hers. It's where Cloud found her...

He shrugged off his coat, and began to lay out his things so that they would be ready for the morning. They wouldn't leave until mid-morning, but it was still better to be prepared for every eventuality.

Some of the stitching was beginning to pull apart on the repair job he'd done when he'd arrived back that day; he would have to fix it again. 

But not tonight.

The goddess is laughing at me, he thought, just as he drifted off. There's something I'm not seeing.