#sephiroths life would be easier if he put his hair up

[ovegakart]

NONE OF THESE MFS CAN DRIVE

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #365

Today was relatively boring until R popped by to make cookies. I woke up a little later than I probably should have, and then I did a bit of leisure writing for longer than I probably should have, and then I showered and went to physical therapy. Not much progress was made on the “rib injury recovery” front, but that's okay. Not all sessions can be perfectly productive.

But on the bright side, at some point this morning, I pushed on my first or second rib near my right shoulder joint, and something went POP really nicely, and that made it a lot easier for me to move my right arm around for a little while. So that was pretty cool!

I ate when I got home, which was very good, because by the time I got home, I hadn't eaten in like over 24 hours. The whole “needing to scrub out the inside of my face” thing and the whole “some of my dentin is exposed and ouchy because of the way some of my teeth have moved” thing really discourage the whole “eating” thing. So admittedly... I haven't exactly been keeping up with the whole “eating balanced meals” thing lately. Whoops.

But! Here's what I made for myself! I thought it was really good!

We've got warmed pumpkin English muffins with mascarpone cheese spread on them, a burrata, a peeled, in-season grapefruit (they're SOOOO good when they're in season...!!!), some salami, some cheese slices, and some roast beef! And there's one of the brownies that Br, the dandelion-haired man, made for us!

The mug has toast-and-jam flavored tea, sweetened with honey and uh... more mascarpone cheese, ahahaha~! I think... at least for now... that it might be my new favorite thing in tea. Like. It goes surprisingly well with literally so many things, oh my goodness!

...I wonder if you would have liked my breakfast. I wish I could have shared it with you. I thought it was pretty freaking great.

After that, I mostly just chilled out until R arrived. And once he did arrive, he showed me all the awesome stuff he's got in his sketchbook so far!!! Because, you see, R is not only an amazing baker; he's also an amazing artist and illustrator!!!

Actually, art class in college over a decade ago is how I know him. We were in the same figure drawing class together. And both of us have experience drawing P, my elderly friend.

...Thinking about it, it's kinda wild that R and I both know what P looks like naked, for entirely non-sexual reasons. It's also kinda wild, some of the crazy poses that P can do for the sake of a figure drawing class, despite his age. I guess all that yoga he does must be really helpful.

What a weird and varied life I live!!! Hahahaha!

…

...I'd give it to you in a heartbeat, you know. If you wanted it. If you wanted something different. I'd trade places. I know that things in my world aren't perfect; there are lots of problems, to be sure. But still, I'd happily take on whatever pain you carry so that you can have the wholesomeness and joy that I have now.

For now... I guess I'll just settle for showing you pictures of the cookies that R and I baked together from the cookie dough he made for us last week.

These are cranberry oatmeal cookies:

These are cookies with red and green M&Ms scattered through the dough. For whatever reason, red and green put together are traditional Christmas colors in my part of the world. M&Ms, in case you don't know, are round pieces of chocolate coated with a thin, brittle candy shell. I don't like M&Ms very much. But I do like these cookies:

...And finally, we have these crescent-shaped almond flour cookies, dusted with vanilla-infused sugar:

...I think you really would have liked those ones in particular. I think my favorite was the cranberry oatmeal cookies, though, which, to me, is pretty wild, given that I'm not normally very fond of oatmeal cookies!!

At some point, R and I got to talking just a little bit about a game called Ape Escape, and its sequel, Ape Escape 2. These are games in which you run around capturing monkeys that are causing mischief due to the intelligence-enhancing helmets they wear. Presumably, they heighten their capacity to wield tools, without heightening their capacity for empathy, impulse control, or delayed gratification. It's a very cute pair of games!

I played the sequel within the last several years. I haven't played the original since I was a teenager (holy shit, how in the fuck did I get old???) Nonetheless, there are several very catchy tracks from the original game that I thought were really memorable. So catchy and memorable, in fact, that I still know them even after all these years, even without having heard them since then until just today. I heard them just today, because I went looking for them, just so I could show them to you, because I think they're peppy and fun, even if they are a bit silly and a tad repetitive:

...Of the ones above, my favorite is probably the first one!! It kinda makes me wanna wiggle, ahahahaha~!! But I really really like the second one, too! That one kinda makes me wanna stomp my feet around really fast!! And the third one makes me kinda wanna skip and hop around!! Eeeheehee~!!

...Hey, Sephiroth? Are there any songs that make you wanna wiggle or dance around in some joyful way? If there are, will you show them to me? It'd be nice to wiggle and stomp and skip and hop around with you like the pair of silly, overcomplicated primates that we are! Bahaha~!!

From the second game, I really enjoy these two:

The first one makes me wanna do some kind of hula!!! And the second one really makes me wanna zoom around, especially at the part that starts at around 41 seconds in!!

Hey, Sephiroth!!! Maybe someday let's also hula and zoom around like a couple of silly marshmallows!!! Won't that be fun!!!

...Impossible, I know. But still, I like to imagine you can read the above things and grin delightedly at the thought of it!! Maybe you can still try these things even if I'm not nearby to do it with you!!

...You know, I'll bet Zack would wiggle and dance around with you, though! Maybe you can ask him!!

Ahhhh!!!!! I have an itch to do StepMania now!!!! But it's much too late at night to get into all that! Goodness me!!!!

...I've decided that the second sentence in the above paragraph is all your fault!!! I declare shenanigans (insert here a mental image of me pointing a dramatically accusatory finger directly at you)!!! And the only “apology” I'll accept is if you to do the StepMania together with me!!! Wahahahaha~!!

...I'm kidding, of course! In all seriousness, though, I'll have to ask J if we can test out StepMania on his laptop soon, since mine kinda... can't be moved around very well anymore, since the screen is broken.

R eventually had to go home. But you know what!! I got to send him home with the lavender-scented sloth plushie that I found at Walgreen's when I was spending time with BB!! It's got a little sachet inside filled with lavender and with things that absorb heat well. So you put the sachet in the microwave to warm it up, and then you put the warmed sachet in the sloth plushie, and then you have a warm, fuzzy, cuddly plushie to hug!! And this one is especially good, since I'm pretty sure sloths are R's favorite animal!

Hey, Sephiroth...? What kind of plushie would you like best? I wonder...

…

...I can't believe it's time for me to go to bed already. I gotta, because I have work tomorrow. And I do wanna go to work, but I don't wanna go to bed yet, because I'm writing to you, and I'm having a lot of fun with it. I feel really silly and good right now, probably because I'm in less pain than usual, and probably because I had a little too much caffeine, and probably way too much sugar from the cookies I ate, hahaha...

...Even if you can't ever talk or write back to me, I hope you know that it's still a lot of fun to write to you, even on days when I don't feel very good. It's still a lot of fun to spend time with you, even in this abstract way. You're lovable as-is, you know. You always have been. You always will be.

And I know that because I love you. I always will. It's never gonna change. So please try to stay safe out there as you do your things over at the Edge of Creation, okay? Because I'm not sure I'd be able breathe beneath a weight as immense as your absence.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[getvalentined]

Character ask game: #3, #48, #49 Vincent Valentine, of course!

What first drew you to this character?

What drew me to Vincent in the first place is a bit convoluted and very silly, but also I was like 12 when the OG came out so bear with me here.

So my mom has ADHD and only discovered this in the past couple years, meaning she spent her entire life trying to accommodate a condition she didn't realize she had, and this led to some "weird" choices—one of the most notable of which was literally color-coding her children.

I have five siblings, and we were all assigned a color to make it easier to tell what belonged to who. Older sister: green. Older brother: navy blue. Younger sister: purple, which was also her first word. Younger brother: sky blue. Baby sister: turquoise, because our folks tried pink but she rejected it from like 6 months old.

My color, if you hadn't guessed, was red.

What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

This is hard to answer because Vincent's design, while being very distinct, is also really...transient, I wanna say? Most of his iconic physical features are temporary, they're clothing or accessories, we don't get to see a lot of him.

I really love Vincent's hair, but I always have the most fun drawing his eyes, so we'll go with that.

What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

I actually really love Vincent's sense of responsibility. It's gotten him into trouble (that is literally how he wound up in his current condition in the first place) but it's also the only thing that drives him forward at any point in his entire storyline. He has trouble keeping it from bleeding out into guilt, sure, but without that sense of responsibility he never would have gotten out of his coffin in the first place.

I know he gets a lot of shit for being callow and weak-willed and dramatic, people call him obsessive for what happened with Lucrecia and stupid for just kinda staying in a coffin for decades while the world burned down around him, but I think that's doing him a disservice.

Vincent put himself to rest out of the same sense of responsibility as what got him killed in the first place. His presence, as far as he's concerned, is what caused everything to go wrong. He believed that he drove Lucrecia into a relationship with Hojo by coming on too strong, he believed that Sephiroth was his child and therefore he was to blame for giving Project S its lead subject, he believed that his inability to stop them from creating a monster is why he didn't pass on after Hojo shot him—he genuinely believed that the Lifestream rejected him, that what he'd done was so horrible that even Gaia couldn't forgive him.

So when he was locked away, he stayed. If no one ever found him, he couldn't hurt anyone else. He couldn't do any more damage to the world that he's been damned to haunt for the rest of time. In hiding, Vincent was removing himself as a mitigating factor in the continued hardship of the world at large, because he already felt responsible for causing so much harm. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought he was protecting everyone else, he thought he was keeping the few loved ones he might have left safe.

He was wrong—but if he weren't, there's no denying that it would have been the right decision.

(From the honest favorite character ask game.)

[bylightofdawn]

I did not do a WIP Sunday so how about a super late WIP Monday and we just pretend it's Sunday?

This is the start of the new Seph/Lazard fic I'm writing. I have the sneaking suspicion it might be mid-length depending on how much of this tenuous plot I have percolating in my head actually gets posted. It might be pre-slash or it might tip into actual slash, I'm not 100% decided despite my snarky post yesterday about Seph's blond twink kinks.

It's freshly written and wholly unedited so disregard any typos and terrible grammar as always.

“Did you hear we’re getting a new Director?” Genesis asked Sephiroth as he leaned against the doorway of Sephiroth’s dorm room.

The silver-haired man had been focused on filing out his after-action report from their recent mission to Wutai. “Oh? Did Heidegger’s smear campaign end up finally paying off?”

He asked absently without looking up from his tablet screen.

“Nope, he apparently got passed over.” Genesis said, popping the p in nope strongly.

That managed to catch Sephiroth’s attention enough he looked up from the screen. “Really? He must be displeased.” There was the faintest trace of sarcasm in Sephiroth’s tone.

“Oh, to have been a fly on that particular wall.” Genesis agreed with a wolfish smile.

“So who is going to be the new Director?” Sephiroth decided to give up on trying to finish this report, if Genesis wanted to gossip then it was easier to pay attention to him rather than risk him getting his nose out of joint because he wasn���t giving him his due attention.

“That’s the interesting thing, I’ve never heard of this guy. Lazard Deusericus? That ring any bells for you?”

The redhead often deferred to Sephiroth when it came to Shinra intelligence, considering the man had grown up within the company while he and Angeal had become involved much later in life.

“Never heard of him. That is interesting.” Sephiroth murmured and pulled up the company directory on his tablet so he could look up the new Director. Genesis slinked inside and leaned his elbow on his shoulder as he shamelessly looked over it.

Very few people would dare touch Sephiroth without asking but Genesis Rhapsodos was a law unto himself. The profile image that popped at the head of the man’s bio revealed a blond man with a rather ridiculous haircut and piercing blue eyes behind a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

“A pretty boy, huh?” Genesis mused and that earned him a vague eye-roll from the other man.

“Think with your other head, Gen.”

“I am. Is it a crime to notice beauty in another man?”

“No it’s not.” Sephiroth conceded somewhat reluctantly.

“All I’m saying is he’s pretty and he’s kinda young. Smacks of nepotism if you ask me.”

“It might explain why he came out of nowhere and is suddenly appointed to the directorship.”

“Heidegger is going to chew him up and spit him out. No way he stays in power for long with the old man gunning for his position.”

“Heidegger wouldn’t know how to play the politics game unless you painted it on a target and put a gun in his hand and told him to shoot it.” The silver-haired man scoffed in open disgust.

“I dunno, Angeal said he saw Scarlet and him getting chummy lately.”

“She must want something from him. You know how that harpy operates. She’ll suck him dry like a tick and dismiss him the moment his use has been played out.”

“Let’s hope for all our sakes that is not the case. I don’t think any of us want to deal with a mutual alliance between those two.” Genesis pointed out wryly.

“Heidegger could be using her to try and oust this new guy and finally win his seat at the big boy’s table.”

“Do you really think the old man is capable of that level of subtlety?”

“Heh, fair point.” Sephiroth conceded with an inelegant snort and turned his gaze back to the tablet screen. “I just hope this Lazard has a brain between his ears. Last thing we want to deal with is some idiot who cannot grasp the most basic of tactics being in charge of our deployment orders. We’re finally making some headway in this damned war. Would be a shame if we lose ground now.”

[greensaplinggrace]

Barret Apocalypse AU Pt. 2

PART 1 | PART 2 of Prompt: “Hello! This is kind of out there but I was wondering if you could do a post apocolypse au? With tons of Barret but not very shippy. With lots of found family though! Thanks” ~ @eilesgiire

CAN BE FOUND HERE ON AO3

Three hours and seven houses after leaving camp, Barret still hasn’t found a single shelter even remotely suitable for living.

Most have been the victims of roaming Mobs, walls shredded and marked by the distinct silver shards of glass bombs, destroyed simply for the safety and seclusion of their locations, and the select few that haven’t been touched by the Mobs are overrun by the infected instead. One place is even reduced to shambles by what appears to be an earthquake, not even slightly inhabitable.

Every single time, the houses will look stable from a distance. Safe to explore and eventually settle in for the winter. And every time, they all turn out to be unusable and they all reveal themselves to be disappointing in some way. He’d headed out to look for any house worthy of a home, but not a single place he’s come across so far is even close to meeting his criteria. 

It doesn’t have to be much, but it has to be enough.

He won’t settle for anything less when it comes to his little girl.

It hurts to even be separate from her for so long, but he has to do this. If he wants to keep their camp safe, but especially if he wants to keep her safe.

Barret only wants what's best for Marlene; it’s always been what he’s wanted. Beyond the bid for environmental change and the firm rise against corrupt policies. Underneath rebellions and uprisings and what the media had once called terrorism. Throughout all of it - the loud, brash call for freedom and challenging the winds of fate themselves - Barret’s interests have never strayed from Marlene. 

Everything he does, he does for her. Keeping the world safe keeps Marlene safe, and providing for Marlene is all Barret has ever wanted to do since the first moment she settled in his arms.

Unfortunately, providing for Marlene means taking risks, and taking risks means leaving her.

Used to be, taking risks meant risking Marlene as well, but Tifa’s solid presence at his side has been a boon the likes of which Barret had never expected. Sent by the planet herself, Tifa had come into their lives not in a whirlwind but in a steady drive back to camp after the day she’d recovered - the day he’d thought she left for good - with a truck bed full of three years worth of supplies and four suitcases brimming with clothes and toys for Marlene.

She’s done nothing but prove her worth every day afterward, pulling her weight around camp and helping to ease the burden of responsibility just a bit. Just enough for him to feel like he’s finally getting somewhere - like he can finally do what he needs.

So now, Marlene is always safe. Tifa stays with her when Barret goes out. Or Barret stays with her when Tifa goes out. Leaving Marlene no longer means abandoning her, and taking care of her doesn’t mean putting her at risk, and recently the world has stopped looking as bleak as it once had. Filling instead with just the faintest, glimmering tinge of hope. 

But no amount of hope can change the fact that they need a solid roof over their heads, and no amount of trust in Tifa can help Barret miss his daughter any less.

Hope certainly isn’t getting Barret any closer to finding salvageable shelter, either, and he’s just beginning to give up on the last of it when a woman’s scream rips through the silence of the forest.

Barret hits the brakes with a grating screech and skids over to the side of the road immediately. Eyes wide through the shade of his glasses as he peers intently out the smudged windows of his truck, attempting to gauge any sort of threat level. He’s reluctant to exit the car just yet in case it’s a trap, but if it is a call for help Barret can’t just sit idly by while someone suffers.

He searches for a time before he notices where the screams are coming from, but eventually he sees it. Just down a small pathway in the forest that opens up into a wide clearing sits a house. It’s a massive, immaculately pristine mansion practically crawling with the infected, but that isn’t what chills him to the bone. 

Dawn has started to break out the first light of the next day, and the vivid red rays cast a gruesome pallor over the scene laid out before him. 

Littered across the blood slick grasses of the clearing are dozens of bodies - possibly hundreds - skewered and piked and cut to pieces like cattle. He’s stumbled into a damned battlefield, Barret realizes, and there’s only one group savage enough to do something like this.

SOLDIERs.

Without another thought he’s out of the car and slamming the door closed behind him. Infected he can deal with. SOLDIERS he can put up a fight against. But whoever is in that mansion? He doubts they can do either, otherwise they’d already be out amidst the fallen.

He sees the group of SOLDIERS almost immediately when he reaches the dip at the end of the pathway, the whole of the clearing opening up before him like some sick wartime display. There’s a man sprawled across the ground right in front of him whose eyes have been burned clean out of his skull, mouth smeared with blood and chest caved in. Laying dead beside him is another person, a woman with her head half severed at the neck and legs bent at an impossible angle. Then another and another, extending out in front of him and beside him, leading into the trees and up to the mansions doors. 

At a guess, Barret would say they’re guards, but most of them aren’t even whole enough to identify, either butchered by their aggressors or gnawed at by the crowd of zombies currently tearing at the walls of the mansion.

It’s a level of cruelty Barret has never seen before in his life, and he considers himself a strong man when it comes to violence, but even entering the clearing has his stomach turning at the mere sight of the blood, pooled in wet patches of mud and glinting off matted blades of grass. It’s a massacre.

Killing the sick fucks who did this wouldn’t be punishment enough.

The fact that they’re still here, though? That’s what really pisses him off. There’s only two that he can see, gathered nearer to Barret than the mansion and both looking down at something on the ground, weapons drawn and ready as if they’re not already surrounded by the bodies of their victims. One has red hair and the other has long, distinct silver hair that Barret would be able to recognize anywhere, based on the propaganda that had run rampant throughout Midgar before it’s collapse. 

Which means the other must be Genesis.

The first time Barret finally gets to come face to face with the war criminals who have destroyed the lives of so many - who worked gladly for the company that destroyed Barret’s life - and it’s when the world has been overrun by knock-off zombies and mako addicted gangs. And to make matters that much more complicated, there’s only two of the five he knows to exist currently present.

Two people who did all of this.  

Shinra really did create monsters.

The heat that burns through Barret’s veins is pure rage when he hears the screams in the mansion cut out in one last abrupt, terrified screech, still standing surrounded by the brutalized bodies of the dead, a horde of infected not even a few meters away and a sea of blood like the earth is bleeding. While these people - these murderers - just linger at the scene of their own crime and talk like this is a damned vacation and not a fucking massacre. 

Without even thinking of the danger, Barret is whipping his gun into the air and preparing to fire, free hand clenched into a furious fist at his side and vicious words already at the tip of his tongue. Ready to finally do something for once - ready to fight back and take control -

Yet before he can so much as consider firing, a movement catches his eye. A shock of matted blonde hair that shifts between the only two men still standing. Pale, bloodied limbs struggling to gain traction against the soaked and unforgiving earth. The hacking cough that follows is enough to sober Barret like a bucket of ice cold water as he realizes that somebody is still alive. Pinned between two super soldiers and lying prone as Sephiroth’s sword descends for the final blow.

Barret’s heart hits the back of his throat.

“Hey!” he yells, starting forward as they turn to face him. He ignores the warning frowns that mar their faces, Sephiroth’s sword drawing back ever so slightly as if to attack him instead, and powers on with his gun raised. “Hey! Get the hell away from him!”

It’s Genesis that ends up facing him fully, snapping his sword to attention in one quick, smooth motion and pointing it directly at Barret. It forces him to stop dead in his tracks a good few feet away from them, but Barret’s close enough now to see the pallid state of their faces and Sephiroth’s unnaturally slitted pupils. He looks like a ghost of the pictures Barret had once seen, cracked at the edges and wild eyed, paler than the dead and hair askew like some tormented ghost.

He doesn’t look alive.

And Genesis isn’t much better. Barret never had the chance to get a glimpse of him the way most had been able to with Sephiroth, but he can take a wild fucking guess that the graying, unwashed hair and sallow complexion isn’t normal. Nor is the way he’s acting right now, sword extended in a threat as a twisted smirk graces his delicate features. 

They’ve both gone completely off the deep end.

The blonde on the ground isn’t faring too well, either. They’ve done a number on him, kicked and beaten him until his skin is coated in bruises, hair caked in blood and clothes ripped. There’s a cut down his shirt that looks like it was made by the straight edge of a sword purely for the purpose of exposing skin, and Barret’s veins run cold in a different kind of fury at the sight.

It’s easier now than it had been even days ago to believe the rumors. That the SOLDIERs were the ones to start this apocalypse; that it was Shinra’s precious little lapdogs who let the world fall into chaos.

Gaia, Barret is endlessly grateful that Marlene and Tifa aren’t here to see this right now.

“I ain’t playing around,” he snaps, “back the fuck off before I shoot.”

“This isn’t any business of yours,” Sephiroth sighs, sounding as if he’s discussing the weather instead of some poor man’s life, and Barret has to unclench and clench his fist again to refrain from shooting that smug mug right off his face, “I suggest you move along.”

“It’s not going to happen, you twisted fuck.”

Sephiroth’s lips thin at that, his blade finally falling away from the blonde completely as he turns to face Barret alongside Genesis. He looks incandescently angry, eyes alight with a demented sort of fury that has Barret’s hair standing on end, but he doesn’t back down. SOLDIER or not, he’ll find a way to stop them.

“I ain’t gonna let you murder somebody right in front of me!” he protests heatedly, swinging his gun around to face Sephiroth when the other’s eyes narrow dangerously. “The hell is wrong with you?! He’s on the ground right now. He can’t even fight back. ”

“This is SOLDIER business.”

“Of course, that’s why it involved the eighty guard rotation of some rich fuck’s manor? Dead servants and a horde of zombies clawing at the doors of a building that doesn’t even belong to you? SOLDIER business, my ass.”

Sephiroth sucks in a sharp breath, grip tightening ever so slightly on the hilt of his blade, but Barret doesn’t waver an inch as those hateful eyes glare venomously. 

“I don’t know you and I don’t care to,” Sephiroth hisses, “but if you continue to try my patience, you’ll soon become acquainted with my blade. This is your last warning.”

“To hell with your fuckin’ warnings. How ‘bout I don’t shoot you for murdering half a small town’s worth of people.”

It’s Genesis that reacts this time around, letting out a laugh as he weaves the tip of his sword through the air. “You think you could hurt us with that toy?” he scoffs, smirk rapidly turning into a mocking sneer, “you’re nothing compared to us. I could put my sword through you before you even got a single bullet out of that worthless pile of scrap.”

“Take your best shot, asshole!”

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment Barret is standing his ground against two furious supersoldiers, Genesis baring his teeth and winding up in a snarling fury, sword moving so fast Barret can hardly see it cutting through the air as he prepares to meet his end. Then the next there’s a blur of movement and the screech of metal against metal, a massive buster sword reverberating just inches above Barret’s head with the force of Genesis’s blade. 

Barret instantly recognizes the blonde hair.

“What the-?”

“Cloud! Enough.” Sephiroth’s own sword is extended now, pressing with careful precision into the pulse point of the blonde, and he does not look any happier than he had thirty seconds ago.

“You two know each other?” Barret’s beginning to suspect this person might not be another unfortunate guard from the mansion. He’s holding his sword level with Genesis - of all people - as if it’s nothing. The weight of his blade alone should have been enough to send him keeling over.

That’s when Barret notices the uniform - a SOLDIER’s uniform. It doesn’t look the same as a first class uniform, but it's definitely not a civilian’s outfit either. 

Barret had been protecting a SOLDIER.  

A rush of emotions floods him at that. Anger and confusion and frustration making him growl out a warning and direct his gun right back at Sephiroth.

“What is going on here?” he demands, “you’re standing in the middle of a massacre about to kill one of your own?!”

Sephiroth chuckles, tone lightening for the first time since Barret arrived. “Well, we’ve already killed the other.”

Dead silence. 

Not even Genesis moves for a second, and the blonde’s arms start to shake beneath the pressure. Though the sword above him poses a massive threat, Barret can’t help the way his eyes are drawn like magnets to the dead body that had been right beside the blonde. The torn, blood soaked remains of a SOLDIER uniform tells him all he needs to know.

They killed him. One of their own. Just as they’d been about to kill the blonde. There truly is no end to Shinra’s cruelty. Even after the company’s demise its loyal soldiers gather to slaughter each other like cattle and destroy the lives of those only trying to get by. Even after Shinra has died the planet still burns, and the SOLDIERs are still the tools of its destruction.

Yet a SOLDIER had also been the one to save his life.

Cloud, Sephiroth had said.

His reflexes are slow, movements groggy, and Barret would bet his only remaining arm that the guy has at least a medium grade concussion. He’s already breaking under the strain of holding back a super soldier - already crumbling beneath an impossible weight. There’s no telling if he’d be able to run or keep up with the fight - no telling if he’s a good enough person to even try it...but he’d been a good enough one to save Barret’s life.

Barret’s determined to get him out of this in one piece. 

The next moment is a blur of movement. The snap decision to fire, not at Sephiroth but at his blade, until the sword is ripping the man’s arm sideways and his expression is slackening in surprise. Barret doesn’t even take a moment to contemplate the true suicidal stupidity of attacking someone like Sephiroth before he’s charging forward, grabbing the blonde by the waist and using his gun to take the brunt of Genesis’s sword. It’s only for a second - only to garner enough time to pull the kid back and free him from the lock of blades - but it’s enough for Barret to holler as an electrifying pain numbs his gun arm. The shriek of tearing metal splits the air, accompanied by Genesis’s own noise of outrage, and Barret hauls the kid backwards and onto his shoulders without hesitation.

There’s a beat of tension as Sephiroth recovers his footing and Genesis regains his bearings, Barret staring right at two infuriated super soldiers through the sparks of his shredded arm.

Then the world is rushing back around him. Panic and noise and the need to get the hell out of there. To return home to his daughter.

So Barret takes the kid and he runs. 

And hell, he doesn’t look back for anything.

——

Barret winds down several backroads as he makes his way back to camp, determined to shake any tail he might have now that he’s possibly angered some of the most powerful people in the world. He hadn’t seen them pursue him after he’d dumped himself and the kid in his truck and torn out of there like a bat out of hell, but there’s no telling what their kind has up their sleeves.

There’s no telling what the one in his truck has up his sleeve, either, and it’s damn ridiculous that Barret is risking any part of his life for a Shinra lapdog that might turn on them at any moment, but he can’t bring himself to abandon the guy. Can’t allow himself in good conscience to leave someone so clearly injured out to fend for themself, let alone someone who’d happened to save his life. Even if Barret had also happened to save theirs. Barret would say that makes them even, but he knows it’s more complicated than that - knows that ties of any sort of blood can lead people to do bad things. It's hard to break from that mold. Hard to choose something good over those you consider family.

Cloud turned on his people. That takes more than guts. Though Barret doesn’t know if 'more' is a bad thing or a good thing, considering it had led him to being a turncoat. No matter how justified it may have been.

He brings the blonde back to camp because it’s the right thing to do, and because apparently he’s made a habit of picking up strays. But it’s with a heavy heart and a host of fears, millions of horror scenarios playing out in his head. A swirling mass of dreadful scenes depicting Marlene and Tifa hurt and dying because of his actions - his family hunted now by people they have no hope of beating alone. 

Scenes that follow him all the way home.

Yet when he pulls up to camp he doesn’t even think to let those worries show, and when he steps out of the car and slams the door shut behind him, there’s nothing on his face but a massive, beaming smile as he sets sights on his little girl. She squeals when she sees him, dashing forward in a mad scramble of flying cookware from the portable oven.

“Daddy!” she screams excitedly, “Daddy, you’re back!” She hits him with all the force of her tiny body and he laughs as he takes her up in his arm. The warmth and relief that fills him almost brings tears to his eyes, and he hugs her so tight to his chest that he can feel her breathing and alive against him.

“That’s right, angel! Safe and sound, just like I promised.”

She giggles against his neck, small fists rising to press at the nape of his neck in a hug. “Tifa and me were making you dinner!”

“Oh, is that so?” He chuckles, looking up to see Tifa standing a short distance away. She looks relaxed and happy, smiling with a languid sort of bliss as she watches the two of them. 

Then her eyes drift down to his destroyed arm and the expression drops to one of pure panic, her gaze darting back up to his own with alarm.

He winces and shakes his head, silently telling her he’ll explain it all later. But he refuses to let go of Marlene right now - refuses to let her out of his sights - so he nods at the passenger seat of the truck, observing pensively as Tifa finally seems to catch his drift, circling around the car to check inside.

“Did you bring back anything fun, Daddy?” Marlene asks sweetly, leaning away to peer up at him with wide eyes. He hums for a moment to stall, hearing Tifa’s small gasp as she catches sight of the battered SOLDIER, and tries to keep his tone light when he answers.

“Not this time, baby. Had to focus on houses instead of stuff, remember?”

“Uh huh! You were house hunting!” She exclaims proudly, eyes crinkling with the force of her smile.

It’s impossible not to return one of his own, warm and loving as he moves them both away from the situation about to unfold, further into the camp. “That’s right! When did you get such a good memory?”

Marlene kicks her legs in the air with an offended sniff. “I always have a good memory. It’s you that forgets things. Like my necklace!” She pouts.

“Well, you’ve got me there,” he laughs, forcing his tone into something unworried as he turns to see Tifa haul the blonde from the car. She slams the door shut with enough force to make Marlene jump, and as she carries the blonde bridal style into the clearing he notices the dark shadow of horror in her eyes, lips tight and arms shaking as she stares down at him. 

Marlene can’t help turning at the noise, and Barret has no power to stop her as she gets a look at their new guest. She gasps, mouth dropping open as she begins to squirm eagerly in his grasp. “Who’s that?! Is he another friend? Is he staying with us too, like Tifa?”

“I don’t know!” He keeps a hold of her as Tifa sets the blonde down on her own mattress, instantly digging around in her pack for supplies. Then turns his full attention on Marlene again, looking sternly into her pleading brown eyes until she stills enough to listen.

“We don’t know if he’s staying, yet,” he tells her honestly, voice gentle, “But we can’t bother him right now, okay? He’s hurt and he might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous how? Who is he?” It’s Tifa who speaks, although she doesn’t look back at him as she does so, and Barret sighs as he crouches to lower Marlene to the ground. She races over to them both before he can do anything, but he trusts that Tifa won’t let any harm come to Marlene.

“A fool, apparently,” Barret snorts with bitter self reproach, “and a turncoat too. ‘Less his friends were just…” he glances at Marlene, shocked and curious as she hides behind Tifa and peaks out at the blonde from around the woman’s shoulder. “...hurting him for the fun of it. They looked past the point of sanity, though, so who the hell knows.”

“A Cluster?” Tifa frets, “I thought they didn’t wander out this way.”

“They usually don’t. Stick to the roads and such. Don’t got time for the likes of backwoods campers. But this wasn’t a Cluster, it was worse.”

“Worse how?” She finally turns to look back at him, and the furrow between her brows makes his heart ache for her. He almost doesn’t want to say it, but -

“SOLDIERS.”

She freezes, expression going blank, and he knows nothing good can be going through her head right now.

“What?” She croaks breathlessly, “You brought a SOLDIER back here? Are you insane? ”

“What’s a soldier?” Marlene’s voice is small and afraid, and Barret swallows the conversation in an instant at her tone, falling to his knees and beckoning her over. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Come here.”

He sees Tifa drop the conversation as well, biting her lip to keep from speaking as she settles a comforting hand on Marlene’s shoulder. She forces herself to relax as she gives Marlene a warm smile, nudging her toward Barret, and after a few seconds Marlene begins to approach with tiny steps. She’s fidgeting, casting fervent looks back at the limp body next to Tifa.

“Is our new friend a bad guy?” she asks hesitantly, eventually working up the courage to speak as she gets closer. 

Barret swallows thickly. “No, he’s not- not a bad guy. He saved my life.” Then, louder as he directs it to Tifa, “he saved my life.”

She sighs and nods, shoulders tense as she turns back to keep working on Cloud, and Barret leans forward the rest of the distance to sweep Marlene up again into a comforting hug. Like magic, though, she’s already moved on from the emotion of two seconds ago. Fear turned to a palpable interest as she hums curiously against him and vibrates with a new kind of energy.

“So he’s a hero?” She asks as he stands to take them to her tent.

“I suppose he is,” he admits reluctantly, holding back a scowl.

“Then why is he so hurt?”

He parts the flaps of her tent and carries her into the muted blue shadows, laying her gently down on her sleeping bag. She yawns widely, rubbing at her eyes and sniffing, but she doesn’t let up on the questioning gaze for one second.

Barret toys with his next words. “His old family...didn’t treat him very well.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Families aren’t supposed to hurt each other. They’re supposed to take care of each other. Like you do with me.”

His gaze softens and he brushes a stray lock from her eyes, mulling over his next response. “I take care of you because I love you, and you’re my precious little girl.” She giggles when he leans down to smother her in a sloppy kiss, pushing his face away playfully. Then he leans back and sobers up, saying tenderly, “These people...they weren’t like us. They didn’t agree with him, sweetheart. I don’t know the whole story, but I know they tried to kick him out.”

“They wanted to abandon him?”

She sounds so sad, and Barret doesn’t know how to make it better. Doesn’t want to lie to her but doesn’t want to hurt her. 

He exhales slowly and presses her back into her bag when she tries to rise. The heavy weight of his hands rests on her chest for a moment in solid comfort, and after a time her small fingers come up to rest atop his own. She pats at him solemnly like it’s him that needs the comforting, and he chokes back a laugh.

“We should keep him,” she says, “so he can know what a real family is.”

“We aren’t his family, sweetheart.”

“But you’re a Daddy. And you said that we should always help and protect people.”

“That’s-” He huffs in amusement and relents beneath the insistence of her hopeful eyes. “Very kind, Marlene. And very brave.”

Her smile is shy with the light pink in her cheeks, but her eyes sparkle victoriously. Barret doesn’t know how to tell her that the SOLDIER probably won’t be around come morning, if he even stays that long at all. So he turns his palm to catch her wrists between his fingers, bringing her hands up to lay a kiss on the back of each. Then he lowers them back down to kiss her goodnight as well, hushing her worries with a gentle touch to the forehead.

“I couldn't be more proud of you,” he says lowly, “my kind girl. You’ve grown up so well.”

“I think you’re the kindest, Daddy, for helping people even when they’re mean. I think you’re a hero, too. You and Auntie Tifa and…”

“His name is Cloud,” Barret admits, already regretting saying the words. And sure enough-

“And Uncle Cloud!”

“How about we wait until he’s awake to see if he wants to be called that, huh?” It’s a lot more rational than he wants it to be, but he can’t bear to snuff out the flickering light of hope Marlene’s found in the situation.

“Fine,” she pouts, before brightening excitedly, “and then he can tell us a story! About how he was the hero and saved you.”

Barret rolls his eyes and stands to leave. “I saved him too, you know.”

“Sure, Daddy.”

“Yeah, yeah...Goodnight, little bug.”

“Night night!” He exits the tent and zips up the flaps, and it’s only after he’s turned and made his halfway across the camp that he hears, “don’t let the bed bugs bite!” sound out behind him.

Barret chuckles fondly, wincing at a sudden sting of pain in his gun arm, and glances over at where Tifa’s working on the SOLDIER. 

His smile drops almost instantly as he sees her leaning back on her heels, hands raised defensively against the harsh movements of her patient.

He’s awake, Barret thinks.

And acting exactly as Barret had feared, judging by the distress clear from across camp. He grits his teeth and storms over, hand already clenched into a fist.

“Hey!” Tifa jumps in surprise, turning to face him as he approaches, and Barret only faintly registers the lack of fear on her face before an infuriatingly cold voice is piercing the air.

“You can’t keep me here,” Cloud says, rising to sit up despite the obvious agony it brings him. He wraps an arm around his stomach, but the intensity of his glare doesn’t waver once.

Tifa worries at her lip as he moves, hands hovering over his battered body as if she doesn’t know where to place them. “You’re still injured, you can’t be up and about! Let me help you,” she practically begs, and Barret’s blood boils at the sound of it. What right does this kid have?

“Not interested.”

“Oh you can’t be serious!” Barret finally snaps, coming to a stomping halt right next to the both of them and scowling furiously down at the kid. “Drop the tough guy act and suck it up. You ain’t helpin’ no one with that attitude, least of all yourself.”

He opens his mouth to say more and falters almost violently when he catches sight of Cloud’s exposed upper body, teeth clacking shut as his eyes widen.

The kid’s shirt is cut right off of him now, with the tight black binder around his chest exposed for all to see. Yet what really horrifies Barret is the garish mass of bruises painting every inch of his skin. He’s coated in cuts and stab wounds, shaking with exhaustion and ribs stark against his thin body, with what looks like an actual bullet wound still red and seeping in his shoulder. Under the pale light of the moon, with blood and dirt washed away, he looks worse than he had sprawled out on that battlefield.

Barret’s stomach turns.

“Shit,” he breathes out before he can stop himself, “what the hell did they do to you?”

“A lot less than what they did to Zack!” His voice cracks and his teeth clench after he speaks, as if the words have spilled unwillingly from his mouth.

“The other SOLDIER?” The one they killed?

The words spark a fire in Cloud that has him whipping to attention so quickly Barret’s surprised he doesn’t keel over from the pain. “It ain’t any of your business!” he grinds out, voice desperate and guarded and hurt all at once, lashing out like an injured animal, “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. Stop talking like you’re familiar with me. You don’t even know me.”

Tifa crosses her arms and raises her chin defiantly, unflinching in the face of Cloud’s anger, and meets his gaze head on when he turns to glare at her. Barret’s hit with another sense of profound respect for this woman, who doesn’t even blink at the unnatural glow of mako eyes in the night, upper body rising to match Cloud’s own harsh tension.

“You’re not being treated like glass! Your injuries are getting taken care of. Last I checked, there’s a hell of a difference.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Ya can’t take care of shit, soldier! Do you hear yourself?” Barret hisses, “do you see yourself? You wouldn’t make it a day out in the wild alone.”

Cloud works his jaw, the stubborn set of his shoulders unrelenting for just a second before his expression shifts, softening in surprise as his trembling body finally can’t take the stress anymore. Tifa reaches out just in time to catch him as he collapses, and the way his lashes flutter, eyes glazing over, speaks more about his wounds than whatever shit was spilling out of his mouth.

Barret snorts. “What a dumbass.”

“Barret!” Tifa scolds, lowering the kid with such a painful amount of gentleness that he’s half convinced the kid may have been onto something about being treated like glass.

“Look, he’s an asshole!” Barret defends, waving his gun arm at the kid in a momentary lapse of judgement that has it zinging with pain. He covers up a wince before Tifa can see it and continues on, growing tenser with each passing moment, voice heated with the pain and frustration of the day. “We’ve done nothing but help him and he’s acting like he doesn’t give a single shit. Dozens of people died today. I almost died! He almost died!”

“And his friend did die, so maybe cut him some slack.”

“That doesn’t excuse his shitty behavior.”

“It was one conversation, Barret! For a few minutes, while he was concussed and injured and barely coherent. He probably won’t even remember it in the morning.”

Barret grinds his teeth and quiets, because he knows she’s right. Know he’s overreacting but damn, everything about the kid had rubbed him the wrong way. “He’s a SOLDIER, Tifa.”

“One who apparently saved your life. One that you brought back with you, which tells me a bit more about what you really feel about this situation.”

“I just don’t trust him,” Barret says, “and I don’t like him.”

Tifa just shakes her head. “Go to sleep, Barret. You’ll want to apologize in the morning.”

“You said he wouldn’t remember the damn conversation anyway!” Barret huffs indignantly, the thought of apologizing makes his hackles rise like nothing else, and he’s thinking he may need to take Tifa’s advice, after all. That he should go to bed before he does something else he might regret.

Something- not something else- because there’s not anything else that he-

Dammit .

“Yeah,” he sighs, waving his hand as Tifa opens her mouth to keep fighting, “yeah, you’re right.”

He gives her a soft goodnight, feeling a bit better when she relaxes and sends him a reassuring smile before turning back to work on Cloud, and heads over to his own tent to settle in for the night.

He just needs some time to cool down - just needs to take a moment to himself so he can grieve the brutal loss of his prosthetic and the deaths of every single person he’d seen today. Needs to be able to reconcile with the horrifying levels of destruction he’d witnessed.

Once that’s done - once he’s had the time to settle down - he’ll apologize. Or find the guy some ice cream. He doesn’t know. But right now, just for the night, he needs to rest.

He goes to sleep with a calm mind that night, content and soothed by the knowledge that things turned out okay, with the firm resolution that he’ll get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and lighten the air between him and the new guy.

Unfortunately, come morning, Tifa’s bedroll is empty. The top kicked aside and the buster sword missing from where it had been propped up against a tree.

Cloud is nowhere is sight. 

And as Barret looks around in sleepy bewilderment, he realizes that neither is the truck.

“Mother fucker!”

[cateringisalie]

Cloti Fall Festival 2019 (Day 3)

Written for the prompt ‘Flushed Cheeks’. A Blade Runner-ish AU.

The SOLDIER’s fist came down hard; Cloud jerked his head to the side. He barely avoided the blow that tore into the vehicle beside him, metal tearing almost like paper under the brute strength. The SOLDIER’s other hand still held him in place; fortunate that he had decided to use naked aggression and not simple crush his skull or crack his ribs. The SOLDIER aimed another blow; Cloud jerked his head again, but not fast enough, the SOLDIER’s fist clipping his ear.

SOLDIERs; genetically engineered servitors of the Shinra corporation. Use on Eastern Continent: Forbidden after the devastating destruction by Sephiroth; the oldest. SOLDIERs were created for deployment and combat in the Wutai war; in the aftermath they were repurposed for a variety of functions as servants. Shinra do not accept the accusation levelled by some groups that the SOLDIERs are effectively slaves.   Cloud yelled out in pain. The SOLDIER grinned. The pain in his ear too distracting, hardly aware that the SOLDIER was tightening his grip on his shirt, drawing him into the air. One hand still clutching his shirt, the other moving with predatory slowness towards his face. Little chance that the SOLDIER could easily kill him. A vain hope that it would at least be quick.   Other jobs never went anywhere. He pursued a number and nothing stuck. That was how they found him, staring at the paper and looking at the want ads. The third time he had quit the department checking for rogue SOLDIERs returning to the Shinra corporation’s seat of power in Midgar. Never wanted to dwell on the question why they came back. Life was tough in the West and towards Wutai. Perhaps it was as simple was that.   But Cloud lost his taste for the job, even if he could pick SOLDIERs out with scarcely a second thought. He tried deliveries, he tried admin work. Hated detection but he was good at that. And that was why they came for him. Wrecked vessel off the coast, five SOLDIERs reportedly heading to Midgar. The last SeeD pursuing them stuck on life-support.   The bang jolted Cloud out of his acceptance. The SOLDIER’s eyes were glassy, unfocused. He recovered, blinked; another shot. A gun. His gun. Dropped somewhere in the alley. A third shot, the SOLDIER’s forehead erupted open, Cloud wincing. The fall came next, the ground rushing up to meet Cloud, the SOLDIER collapsing limp on top of him. Was he saved? At the end of the alley a familiar figure stood holding his dropped gun. Tifa.   “Do you like our Chocobo, Mister Strife?”   Her footsteps echoed in the cavernous hall of the room. A reception area he had been ushered into on arrival. No detection job had required this in the past, but these SOLDIERs had tried to infiltrate the company. That was what caught Zack out. Some concern in high circles, the Shinra corporation casting doubt on his department’s ability to check. Not that the corporation were incapable of ascertaining a subject’s humanity; their method more precise, more clinical – and more in need of bone marrow. That little detail always a chilling aspect of the SOLDIERs make-up.   And now here he was, ready to try the test on a proven SOLDIER – check it still functioned. Shinra corporation bending or outright breaking its own rules. The chocobo warked and fluffed its feathers. “Artifical?”   A snort from the woman; long black hair, red eyes, immaculate poise and make-up-   The hands holding the gun were shaking, her eyes fixed on the SOLDIER lying face-down. Cloud struggled to his feet, keeping his hands open and apart, venturing closer to her.   “Of course not.”   “Expensive?”   “Very.”   He gently took the gun from her; she relinquished it easily. She did not belong in the slums. Too clearly different. Her poise was gone , but the make-up, the hair, even the thick coat to hide the finery beneath was other, too pricey, too wasteful. And-   “It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public.” Dismissive. She stalked away, heels clacking across the floor.   Cloud followed. “SOLDIERs are like any other machine. If a hazard – my department.”   “Is this to be a blush response?” Hojo. How long had he been waiting, watching?   “Mister Strife, this is Hojo.” As if Cloud did not know who the man was. Never comfortable with the limelight or business. The creator of SOLDIER and creepier than expected. Cloud took his hand; cold, clammy. Resist the urge to wipe it.   “Blush response is too crude-“   “Yes, you call it by another name.” The man glared at him, pretensions of hospitality gone. “I want to see a pass. A human.”   Not part of the plan. “I thought-“   “Positive first, then negative.” Hojo sneered. “Unless you wish us to take on faith that your little machine works?” He nodded to the case at Cloud’s side.   Resist the sigh. Get this out of the way. “Too bright in here.” Tifa crossed to the window and pressed a switch. “You want to try?”   Hojo shook his head. “Her.”   Dark in the slums, but too bright. Tifa stood out like a candle in the darkness. Nothing for it. Shinra had abandoned her. She had no relatives, no money. Nowhere to go. Cloud took her home. Get her out of the light. They were quiet on the way back. They would need to talk about it. Talk about the death at Tifa’s hands. What had the first time been like all those years ago? Covered with time and alcohol. Lost in indulgences. She was experiencing it all for the first time. Or possible worse; he had killed a malfunctioning machine. She had killed another SOLDIER.   He ran out of questions, Tifa’s eye still large on the display. An answer, but-   “You are dismissed Tifa.” She rose from her chair and stalked from the room. “Well?”   “A SOLDIER.” Cloud snorted. “Never seen a girl one before.”   “She’s the first of a new project. A prototype of sorts.” He whirled to face Cloud. “But she nearly evaded you did she not? You are little test almost missed what she was.”   “She doesn’t know.”   Hojo grinned, too close. “Prototype. Better like this.”   “How can she not know what she is?” All of this staged for his benefit. The limits of their testing. If this was the direction the company was taking, how could they possibly keep-up? Of course, that was the plan. Shinra had never taken the banned well, their flouting of that restriction here telling.   “Give them memories and they don’t worry about origins or how long they have left. More stable.” Hojo tapped a finger on the desk.   “More controllable. The others like her?”   Hojo shook his head.   Tifa stopped in the middle of his apartment. “Water?” She nodded, eyes down. Cloud stumbled to the kitchen, searching through cupboards for the least unwashed glass. His own hands trembled as he filled it with water. Her hands shook when she took it. “Shakes?” Another nod. “Me too. Real bad.” A deep shuddering breath. “Never gets any easier.”   Something finally went out of her and she sank back onto the sofa. She was not about to flee this time; circumstances were different now. This time she saved his life. He winced, bruises from the fight catching him. A swift change of clothes in the bedroom, and something remotely the right size for her and a blanket. She rose and left for the bathroom silently.   The thread of conversation was difficult to pick up when she returned. He, drawn back into the business of executing renegade members of her kind; she the first of a new type, now reeling in the strange new knowledge that her past was a lie. Or perhaps, not even that. Someone else’s. Tifa sipped at her water, pulling the blanket around her. They shared a bottle of whiskey, left the TV blaring away with films from near a century before and the lights off.   “They’re going to go to the Shinra corporation.” Her words jolted him back awake.   “What?”   “The other SOLDIERs.” Tifa kept her gaze on the TV. “They’ll go back. They have to. Like I- I want to.”   “Why?”   Tifa shook her head. “Something calls me.”   “Tifa? I’ve seen your files. I’ve seen how SOLDIERs are manufactured, how the brains are put together.” Nice going, Cloud. Way to make her feel better. “There’s nothing like that.”   “It’s not something designed.” Tifa fidgeted. “I can feel it now.”   “What about before? While you were there?”   “I-“ Tifa opened and closed her mouth a few times. “It wasn’t as bad. But it was there. Something- Something’s below the main offices. I feel like I should be there.” She turned to meet his gaze. “I know the others will too.”

[deaddreamweaver]

Blood Of Others

Word count: 2287

Warnings: War themes, injuries, minor character death, mental abuse (?), let me know if other things need to be tagged

Characters: Sephiroth, Angeal Hewley, Genesis Rhapsodos, Hojo

Authors note: This took forever to write but @blccdlet kept me motivated to do this.

Sephiroth's hands fidget around, adjusting the low ponytail his hair was held back in. He pulled it lower, then pushed it back up. He messed with the ends of his hair, already falling to his hips. If it wasn't his hair it was his gloves, tracing the seams carefully, trying to memorize the details of the leather. Leather wasn't cheap. Far from it actually. Why did they chose leather, he wondered to himself. Why was he here? A mission. They were at war of course. A trying time of blood shead on both ends. Sephiroth recalled his debrief before they send him off to war. They were going to a military town in Wutai. They were supposed to take out the main military force. It was supposed to be easy, especially for the mako enhanced SOLDIER.

"I'm doing it for them." The infantry man spoke, holding a photo of his wife and two children.

"How old are they?"

"Five and ten."

The conversation between the men caught the General's attention. It had the seventeen year old tilting his head as he looked at the photo himself. It was odd, to say the least. To have something outside of ShinRa was puzzling in itself. "What are their names?" Sephiroth spoke for the first time since they loaded up for the mission, finally sitting still. It honestly startled the two men who had been conversing of home to have such a high rank speak so commonly.

"Ah...My wife is Marina. This one is Rinku and the youngest is Silfi." The man explained, pointing to each person in the photo. "What about you? If you don't mind my asking, sir."

"My mother's name is Jenova. That's about all I know." Sephiroth stated simply, no remorse for never knowing her. A pang of sympathy fell over the two men as they heard him, though it didn't last long. "They look happy though. It's always good to have something to fight for." The rest of the conversation was lost on him. Nonsensical information is what Hojo would call it.

"If it's not important it is not worth remembering. There is much more you must learn if you are to succeed." Hojo once instructed him. He put so much into making Sephiroth perfect, as if he were trying to rival something, or someone.

_________________

Scouting the town from afar, the young male heard the whispers and hushed voices behind him. Those who doubted him of course. He could see why. Most of these men had been in war zones before. Sephiroth, had not. However he had more training than any man on this field.

"I just don't get why they let a fucking kid into a battle field. I doubt he even knows what he's doing."

"Hey keep it down. He's a First Class he's gotta know something."

"I don't care if he's in SOLDIER he's still a kid. I've got more experience than that brat-"

Clenching his fist, he sucked in a breath before relaxing once again. "It would be easier to focus without your bickering." The General spoke with authority in his tone. He could assume they froze in a panic, unaware he heard every word they had been saying quite literally behind his back. "If you wish, we could spar right now. If you win you can lead the charge. If you loose you go home with a dishonorable discharge. Is that what you want?" The silver haired male turned around, lightly glaring. "I may not be as old as you, but I know exactly what I am doing out here. This is not a game, this is war."

________________

He knew something was off when the village was bare of all life. It didn't make any sense to him, his left hand gripping his blade handle with anxiety coursing through his veins. He wasn't briefed on this. This area was supposed to be full of Wutai fighters yet there's wasn't even a civilian on the street. This wasn't right. That's when he heard it. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"It's a trap." His blood ran cold. "Retreat imedi-" It was too late, the bombs went off and the entire village went up in flames. He was thrown back and hit his head hard against one of the stone buildings. As much blunt trauma he could take, this hard of a hit had his head spinning and he felt himself blacking out.

He awoke to a burning city. He didn't know how long he'd been out for but he knew he needed to find any men who were trapped in the city. He used the wall behind him to stand himself up. He'd only seen this much destruction in the simulator but actually experiencing it all was almost overwhelming. If he hadn't the determination to save his troops he would have broken down.

Running through the flame kissed city, he noticed the back of his head felt wet, but he payed little attention to it. He managed to get several of his troops out of the city and on the way to safety, his body aching from exertion but he couldn't give up now. He hadn't covered every building, every street. There could still be people in the city. That was what kept his legs steady as he ran back and forth, making sure he could save as many as he could. He was young. He was naive.

Most of his men needed help getting out, some left in pairs telling Sephiroth where others were in the town. Some he needed to personally escort out himself. Any of his men could tell how Sephiroth desperately tried to save as many lives as he could.

That's when he saw a familiar faced trooper. He'd been trapped under burning rubble. This only seemed to motivate him further, pushing his legs to the limit to get there before it was too late.

"Hold on I'm going to l-"

"It's no use, sir. It's the end of the road for me." The broken tone the man held was will shattering, but Sephiroth hadn't given up just yet. That was, until a photo was pushed into his hand. "Tell my girls I love 'em all. Get outta here while you can. You've got big things to do, I can tell."

Sephiroth's shaking hands looked down at the photo. It was the same one from early on in the mission. "I can't- you aren't- I..." He choked on his own words and for the first time his eyes showed weakness. He watched the man die in front of him. His heart pounding in his chest and all these foreign emotions filling his mind.

What was he supposed to do about this? He just watched someone who had been so full of life return to the lifestream. What would become of his family after this? This easily could have been him. Would his body be left behind just as his infentry man? What would happen if he died? Life on Gaia would just continue on without him. Sure people would grieve. However things would just continue on as if he never was a thing to begin with. He couldn't focus, too many thoughts overwhelming him. He couldn't think straight. His mind bouncing from thought to thought.

He stood on shaking legs, pocketing the photo. It felt wrong to leave the man under the rubble but he had little choice in the matter. That's when a familiar voice called his name. At first he didn't hear it, the voice sounded so distant with the screaming in his head. Then is called again, louder this time, breaking the trance he was in.

"Sephiroth!" It was Genesis, one of his dear friends. One of his only friends. He turned to the sound, seeing Angeal not to far behind. They were running to him in a panic.

"We heard the explosion and came as soon as we could. Are you oka-" Angeal's voice trailed off. Genesis had a hand covering his mouth, eyes wide in horror. That's when Sephiroth actually looked at the damaged he had taken.

His uniform was covered in blood, the only reason he could tell in his stark black uniform was the fact that it was clung to his skin and burned. The pain hit him all at once when he looked and his sight blurred, legs buckling but not failing just yet. All this time he never realized he was hurt. He realized why he'd been winded so easily. It was very likely his torso had been bruised, maybe a rib or two cracked. His right side had been torn to shreads from the shrapnel from the bomb and it likely wasn't just that area. How had no one noticed sooner? How had he not noticed sooner? He hadn't been paying attention to how much blood had been his and how much belonged to his injured squad. His entire body ached and he had a no clue how he was still standing. He was easily the most injured aside from the fallen men. He was the closest to the bomb.

His hand moved to his side, touching the blood before he looked at his palm. The blood was a deep red, almost black. Not a good sign. That's when he recalled his head. He'd been bleeding out this entire time. "Huh. That's....not good..." His voice trembled as the realization hit him. He didn't even know how bad it truly had been.

He looked back up to his friends, sharing the same horrified look as Genesis before his legs gave out. The last thing he saw was Angeal rushing over to catch him.

Sephiroth was out before he even hit the ground.

_________________

He woke suddenly, shooting up eyes wide and darting around the room he was in. A sudden flare of pain ripped through him with the motion. The room was white, medical equipment sounded behind him.

"Woah woah hey lay back down." Angeal had been sitting next to him he realized. His body relaxed a moment when he saw his friend at his side. Angeal's hands hover over his chest and shoulder, guiding him back down onto the hospital bed without touching him. He knew his friends' discomfort with contact.

Sephiroth slowly laid back with Angeal's aid. "Genesis has been out pacing in the hallway. He's worried about you. Want me to get him?" Angeal spoke with a low voice, as if not to pain him further having just woken. He gave a small nod in response. A small smile was thrown his way and Angeal stood up and went out to get the other. Genesis was the one to open the door, relief washing over him as he saw Sephiroth. A ghost of a smile showed on Sephiroth's face when he heard the soft 'oh thank Gaia' slip past Genesis's lips. As much of a rivalry they had they did still care for another.

Genesis was quick to sit by his side, Angeal entering and closing the door. Sephiroth noted Genesis's fidgeting hands, holding up his own for him. The redhead hesitated before clasping Sephiroth's hand with both of his own. "I'm so glad you're okay..." Genesis spoke barely above a whisper.

It wasn't long until someone knocked on the door, hesitantly opening it. "General Sephiroth? Professor Hojo wishes to speak with you." Three sets of eyes landed on the woman in a lab coat. One set was hard, glaring even, questioning why this was the time to tell the injured man to get up. Another was neutral, frustrated, but not at her. The last asked a silent question.

"Tell him I'll be there in a moment." Sephiroth spoke up, breaking the silence. The woman nods and quickly fled the room.

"You can't be serious. You need to rest!" Genesis spoke up before Angeal could.

"Genesis is right. You shouldn't be walking around, especially to Hojo."

"I've little choice." Sephiroth was already in the process of getting up, wincing as he did. Genesis went to help but froze mid way through the action. "At least let us help you get there." Angeal said as he saw how shakily Sephiroth was standing.

"Fine..."

_________________

It took some time, needing more help than he'd like to admit, before the three were in front of Hojo's office. His two friends agreed to wait for him so they could help him back. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth knocked on the door then entered the room. "Professor Hojo, you wanted to see me?"

"I heard about your last mission." Hojo spoke, his voice harsh and Sephiroth immediately knew why he'd been called down here. "That was reckless. Unnecessary even. Their lives are worthless compaired to yours. Do you know how much funds to train would would have been wasted if you died? Worse, what would happen if the Wutai forces found your body?"

Sephiroth's gase fell down, unable to make eye contact any longer. "My apologies. It was the heat of the moment, I hadn't realized that-"

"That you were injured? That they weren't as important as you?" Hojo cut him off. "Please. You were trained better than this. You should know that a petty few infantry men are worthless compaired to you, a First Class SOLDIER. If it wasn't for those other First Class you would be dead even with all your enhancements."

"It won't happen again." Sephiroth muttered, his fists clenched not raising his gase still.

"Look at me while I'm taking to you." Hojo snapped, grabbing Sephiroth's chin and making the silver haired man look up. "Do not let this happen again. I will not be so kind next time. Now go. I have work to do."

[up-sideand-down]

Sefikura Week Day 5: New Beginnings

The delivery guy that came so recommended rode in on a motorcycle. Not that Seph judged those types of things...it just didn’t seem like the type of vehicle that allowed him to carry a lot of packages. And Seph had several things he had ordered. 

“Just easier to see what’s around me,” the blonde delivery man said as Sephiroth signed, “not that I need to here...I didn’t even know this place was a farm. I thought it was all just wasteland.”

“I’m sure it isn’t any more,” Sephiroth agreed, “but maybe now that Midgar’s reactors are gone...it could be something else.” 

“Well good luck to you,” the delivery man said. He had been the only person to do so. The ShinRa’s laughed, despite quickly going bankrupt themselves. The few SOLDIERs left thought he was crazy. He would be much better suited to mercenary work.

He opened his package until he found one filled with seeds, fruits and veggies yes, but also some flowers and grasses as well. He didn’t know what once grew around here. 

“I just don’t want to destroy things anymore,” he told them. 

He was thankful after the first rain that he had only gotten to planting a few crops. Trying to find any ground that was fertile at all. The flash flood didn’t recede for days, but luckily his cabin was on higher ground. Probably why it had still been standing when he bought the place. 

“Wutai survives these,” he told his survivors, “they make...what did they call them, ‘floating gardens’ something like that. I doubt I can get a farmer to tell me how...but perhaps I can engineer something. 

He had mounds built when the delivery man came back, this time with pallets and planks of wood. 

“That dirt is just gonna wash away next time it rains,” he pointed out, “no matter how much wood you put around it. It’s too silty.” Sephiroth knew he was right. 

“I bet there might be something thicker if you dig deeper,” the delivery guy said, “there should be halfway decent farmland beneath the dusty crap...if the history books are right. And you’ve got a good water well...it’s not all lost...probably.”

“So long as they weren’t published by ShinRa,” Sephiroth said. 

“Maybe some pots to start with once you get some good soil,” the delivery man said, “Or a little garden bed. There’s nothing wrong with starting small.”

Sephiroth had to dig half a meter to find that soil, but find it he did. In patches. He also ordered some pots for his flowers, perhaps one for a tomato plant or to start a tree. 

The delivery man came quickly enough. He let Sephiroth sign before he noticed the garden bed. 

“That is atrocious,” he said. Not cruelly. Sephiroth knew he was correct. Then the delivery man went back to his bike and came back with a set of tools. 

“I couldn’t ask you for that,” Sephiroth said, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cloud,” he said, “and I cannot leave you with this monstrosity.”

When he left, the garden bed was much neater and sturdier. Sephiroth felt confident in adding another two wheelbarrows of good soil to it before planting. 

There were green buds peeking out of his pots when his next packages came. Cloud seemed dubious as he watched Sephiroth untangle the wire from the fence he ordered. 

“I’m sure I can put it up, thank you,” Sephiroth said. 

“It will be faster with two,” Cloud said. 

“I’m sure you have other deliveries to manage,” Sephiroth said. 

“I had a sneaking suspicion I should make you my last stop,” Cloud said. It was faster with two. And Sephiroth got an idea on how to build this stupid fence. 

“The wolves don’t get too close,” he said, “but once I figure out how to fight the dust and the flooding I don’t want them here.” 

“That’s fair enough,” Cloud said, “they know there’s no food around here...yet.” Sephiroth smiled. 

“Where do you get your food?” Cloud said. 

“I have a lot of canned and preserved foods,” Sephiroth said, “and a sturdy freezer.” 

“Thank goodness,” Cloud said, “I was wondering I should be bringing you food too.”

He had a proper sprout when Cloud stopped by “just because” for the first time. He had brought beer and some sort of casserole. He didn’t ask why or for what reason, just sat and drank beer and regaled Sephiroth with delivery stories. 

It was a nice visit. 

“Good,” Cloud said, “I didn’t take you for a hermit anyway.”

He was mourning three of his potted plants that died. He just couldn’t figure out why. Angeal would be disappointed in him.

Cloud was delivering the composter that would be their temporary grave. 

“Might just be the climate,” he offered, “too hot for them, too cold for them. You got farther than I ever have.” 

“I also brought you these,” he said, handing over a handmade packet of seeds, “a friend of mine grows them not too far from here. Let’s see if you can to. They’re flowers, big beautiful flowers.”

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said feeling oddly touched. Cloud smiled at that, then lifted a pot of something. 

“I reversed engineered my mother’s stew,” Cloud said, “and brought enough to feed you for a week.” 

Sephiroth rather enjoyed that week too.

He was celebrating his tomatoes. They were alive and well, along with the lilies Cloud had gifted him. He might even be able to harvest some too. 

Cloud delivered a person instead. Sephiroth felt his blood drain. 

But instead of a hate fueled tirade, the wutainese princess fell to the ground laughing. 

“I really thought you were shitting me Cloud,” Yuffie said, “The Demon of Wutai...farming!” It took almost twenty minutes for her to stop giggling. 

She agreed to share some books about how the Wutai people conquered monsoon season. 

“My father is never going to believe this,” she said.

“How do you know her?” he asked Cloud. Cloud just shrugged. 

“I meet a lot of weird people,” he offered up. 

 He only realized after she had gone that she had swiped his only blooming lily pot. He figured he deserved it. Cloud brought it back the next day.

Cloud stopped one day, sitting on his bike and staring. He’d been coming and going for months...and just hadn’t seen the green seeping in. Part of him knew it was because Midgar wasn’t sucking the life out of the area, but part of him thought it might be from all the care Sephiroth had been pouring out here, for no other reason than because he could. 

“You’re getting grass,” Cloud said, when he heard the wood creaking on the porch, “never thought it would happen in my lifetime.” 

“And I’ve got tomatoes and potatoes,” Sephiroth said. He had a little bowl full of them. Cloud laughed when Sephiroth handed them over. 

“I’ve heard your first bit should be given away,” Sephiroth said, “I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to give them too.” Cloud tucked the bowl neatly in one of Fenrir’s compartments, writing a note to return it. 

“Hey...Seph?” he asked, “I know you’re a busy farmer and all...but would you want to...go for a ride with me?” Sephiroth was quiet for a long moment. 

“I actually would really love to,” Sephiroth said. 

Sephiroth felt the wind in his hair and Cloud’s shoulder under his cheek and wondered if this was what a fresh start was meant to be like. 

[neko-mun-rp]

Time Travel verse (closed)

@letsheckinmosey [x]

“Th-The top-??”

In retrospect, perhaps Cloud should have held back a little more. Though, doing so as much as he did was already easier said than done. Any more and he would have just looked lazy. Granted, he still couldn’t believe no one else beat him. That’s what happened when you had an unfair advantage.

“I-I uh…” The blond really had to think about Sephiroth’s offer. Even then, as calm as he appeared, Cloud’s mind was going haywire. The sight of the silver-haired man, mad with glee as he loomed over him, finally taking his life, was not one he would soon forget.

However, even this had its advantages. With this partnership, Cloud could keep a closer eye on Sephiroth. If they got close enough, then maybe he could listen to him and NOT GO TO THE REACTOR. Because that was the endgame. Keeping Sephiroth away from Jenova. If nothing else, if Cloud can manage this much, then he’s basically succeeded.

Furthermore, as much as Cloud wanted to see Zack, he deemed it best to stay away from him. The less likely Zack is to want to save him, the better, if things go wrong.

“…Alright.” Cloud nodded and saluted his superior. “…It would be an honor to work with you, sir.”

As he waited for a response Sephiroth wasn’t sure what the new recruit would say. On the one hand he was strongest warrior in Shinra and being his partner would definitely be a good move that had benefits, but on the other hand it was Sephiroth- the man many feared and wouldn’t want to risk pissing him off and end up getting killed.

When Cloud did answer the general was pleased to have him accept. “Indeed it is your honor, I’m pleased to have someone worthy to accept the wisdom and skills I have to offer.” Sephiroth was also happy to rub it in Zack’s face that he got the top recruit first. “Follow me and we can let the other recruits know their results.”

The general led the way through the halls, on the way Sephiroth looked at the folder with the results and read down the list of names. “I don’t envy those with the lowest scores, they will be put through enhancement training to catch up with the others...”

[nikkxb]

A New Role

Final Fantasy VII (mostly Crisis Core) Pairing: AeriSeph Rating: Teen Prompt: From @uchihacollector​ : “AU wish. New fandom, if you are brave: Final Fantasy 7 Crisis Core. There is a full HD video of the game (like 3h) on youtube. All the important characters are introduced in like the first 30 minutes. I want to request a Music AU in a big city, of characters YOU like. I think you'll like Angeal.  College AU for @auyeahaugust  Author’s Note:

Listen. It’ll just be easier for us all if you go into this knowing Sephiroth is a little OOC and that I really don’t care. More notes about the AU at the end!

“Again.”

Aeris jerked awake, the echo of his deep baritone rattling around the silent room. It had been two weeks since classes ended and three weeks since his final, but she hadn’t escaped his grasp yet. The dreams didn’t mean anything, just washes of color and different landscapes that didn’t make sense, all to end with her nervous and anxious and waiting for something before hearing his bitter disappointment pull her out of sleep.

She threw off the covers and stalked to the kitchen, looking for peace a glass of water might offer.

Sitting in the small kitchenette, she let the silence of the night embrace her. Being awake at 3:30 in the morning should be a good thing, like coming home late from a party or catching a midnight showing at the theater.

Intense dreams and haunting voices and humiliating memories of repeated failures? Not a good reason to be awake and hopefully, she’d get back to sleep soon. Last time she woke up to his voice demanding perfection, she watched the sun rise. Not this time. Not going to happen again. She was going to finish her water, wash her face, climb right back into bed, and go back to sleep. No way was she going to let him keep the control he somehow held over her.

Aeris downed her glass, sipped a second, then washed the cup and left it in the sink. She took her time washing her face, ears, and neck, and even went further to apply moisturizer and a night cream. She changed into comfortable pajamas, turned the air down low and the fan up high, and crawled under the warm comforters. On her side, head against a soft pillow and her body curled around the sheets, she closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and banished every thought that wasn’t getting to sleep.

Somehow, she did.

*

“Hey, Aeris! Over here!”

Taking a breath, she made her way through the tables until she found Zack. She knew there was going to be a group – he somehow managed to get her to agree to meet him and “a couple friends” for drinks and she couldn’t get out of it. Sly man knew her work schedule. So she put on a smile and a cool sundress, hoping the comfortable fabric would help keep her at ease with whoever Zack managed to bring out.

She spotted his messy black hair instantly and didn’t look at others until she got closer. A few other undergrads lingered around, but Zack was sitting with three of the TAs. Him being one of them.

Her steps stuttered, but she continued on. She’d had classes with Angeal and Sephiroth, the former being one of her favorites and the latter being an experience she wish she didn’t remember, but hadn’t had Genesis. The guitarist didn’t teach many and instead focused on his own course load. How he managed to foist those responsibilities onto the other two, she didn’t know.

Angeal smiled warmly in welcome, shifting down the bench to offer her a seat next to Zack. She took it, grateful to be sitting between two people she knew, but it put her directly across from that icy green stare.

“Took you long enough!” Zack said before she could open her mouth, his heavy arm draping over her shoulders. “I almost thought you were going to stand me up.”

“Please,” she protested. “You’d just show up at my door and drag me out anyway.”

He laughed and it helped her ease her shoulders. Just a little. If Zack was here and carefree and laughing, she might be able to relax and enjoy herself, too.

“It’s nice to see you out of class, Aeris,” Angeal said from her left and she turned to offer him a smile.

“You, too! Though I’m certain you usually don’t enjoy hanging out with your students during breaks.”

“You’re not my student anymore,” he reminded her. “Not after that perfect score you got on my exam.”

Her cheeks heated, a little bashful under the reminder. She’d studied her ass off for that final.

“I trust you know Sephiroth and Genesis?” he asked, nodding toward the two men across from them.

“Ms. Gainsborough was in one of my classes last semester as well,” Sephiroth answered for her, his deep voice just as captivating here as it was in her dreams. She suppressed a shudder at the idea of adding more statements to pull her out of sleep. “She did rather well.”

Aeris blinked. She did well? According to his demeanor over the last half of the semester, as well as every word, every demand, every bit of attention he’d ever given her, she’d barely scraped by!

Genesis’s chuckle broke her from her surprise. “Seems you enjoy scaring all of your students. You really enjoy making them feel like they’re failing?”

Thankfully, Zack jumped right back in. “Aeris? Fail? She’s the only reason I passed my theory class.”

“No,” she forced, latching onto the new topic with an urgency she tried to hide, “the only reason you passed theory is because Angeal was kind enough to accept your late work.”

A few other classmates took that moment to drop in, finally moving the conversation from her. It was easy to enjoy food and drinks and tales of how others were faring, though it wasn’t easy to ignore the quiet stare from across the table.

He didn’t say anything more and when she left, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for not quivering in her seat.

*

Meeting up with the grad students became a weekly thing. It was apparent Zack had become good friends with them over the last semester and enjoyed hanging out. He seemed determined to rope her into it, too. She tried not to mind too much. It was a nice interlude between the boring summer that was only disrupted by her job on campus.

Angeal had a wonderful sense of humor, something she’d known during classes, but hadn’t been privy to being on the receiving end of. Genesis was just as flighty in real life as he appeared in forums, but the man was still a genius when it came to manipulating the guitar strings. She still couldn’t understand how he heard the hidden keys to perform his runs in, but she definitely enjoyed watching the process. Maybe one day, she’d get him to teach her.

Ha! Maybe.

Sephiroth was still just as much a mystery as he had been during the semester. Quiet and contained, he seemed content to watch her with those eerily bright eyes, letting the silence say all he needed to say. Thankfully, she didn’t get caught under that spell often as Zack kept her laughing. But despite the voice still in her dreams and the memories of his disdain over her failure to master the keys so fresh in her mind, intrigue grew.

A month into their meetups, Aeris was late. Way late. Work had been long and the weather had been terrible and by the time she got home, she needed nothing more than a shower. The hot water had felt better than she realized and forty-five minutes after their usual meet up time, she pulled open the doors to the bar and peeked inside.

For once, the flash of silver hair and searing green eyes had her breathing a sigh of relief. She hadn’t missed them.

As she got closer, she realized it was only Sephiroth at the table, a single glass of amber liquid in front of him. Looking around, she wondered if the guys were at the bar or if they were over playing with the high-tech jukebox, but she couldn’t find them anywhere. Did they already leave?

Hesitantly, she approached the table. She wasn’t certain her company would be welcome if they were the only ones there, but it seemed rude not to check on him anyway. Maybe everyone else was running as late as she.

“Where is everyone?” she asked as she took a seat, ignoring the nerves skittering over her skin.

She’d never get used to the potency of his stare from this close.

Instead of answering, he waved over the waiter and let her place her order. Seemed he welcomed her company even though he didn’t seem to put any stock into it before.

“It appears to be just us this evening,” he finally answered once the waiter left after delivering her drink.

“Really?”

A nod, though not surprising. He didn’t waste many words.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, then.” The cider was clean and crisp on her tongue and just what she needed after such a long day. “I didn’t realize you’d be sitting here alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

She offered a wry smile. While he might not mind his own company, she seriously doubted he didn’t have a problem with tardiness. “I got caught in the rain on my way home from work,” she explained anyway, “then lost track of time in the shower. By the time I realized what time it was, I rushed here as soon as I could.”

Sephiroth watched her in silence, his gaze touching on her wet hair, her makeup-free face, and the clean clothes she tossed on before returning to her own green eyes. “Aeris, I don’t mind.”

Her smile softened, an unsettled quiver running through her at the sound of his voice curling around her name. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

He held up his glass in answer and she clinked her bottle against it. Maybe enjoying a quiet drink with Sephiroth wouldn’t be so bad.

“Did you really believe you were failing my class?” he asked suddenly.

Blinking at him her mind raced, remembering what Genesis joked about that first time. It wasn’t something she expected him to discuss — Sephiroth had a strict stance on his teaching style and it hadn’t been something he hid. She’d known what to expect the moment she received his syllabus.

“It was hard not to,” she answered with a tight smile, a probably failed attempt at laughing it off. “You…you were demanding and sometimes, it seemed like nothing we did would ever be good enough. Not that I think that was necessarily a bad thing,” she rushed to clarify, hoping desperately she didn’t offend him and ruin whatever sort of truce had been built since the end of the semester. “I learned a lot and I know some of those lessons I won’t forget.”

He didn’t respond and she didn’t expect him to, so Aeris filled the silence by sipping more of her cider. It didn’t feel awkward or tense, not like she would have guessed after having this conversation, but Sephiroth was still studying her in that quiet way of his.

“How long have you known Zack?”

Well, that was out of left field, but it was a much safer topic. “Going on three years. I had the unfortunate luck to sit next to him during our first music theory class and he’s stuck by me since.”

“And how long have you been dating?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “We’re not dating. Haven’t ever dated. He’s just a friend.” Cocking her head to the side, she thought back over all the times he would have seen them together. Nothing jumped out at her that would signal any bond other than a platonic one. “Why?”

Something that looked like satisfaction crossed his features and he waved for the waiter again. “Would you like another one?”

Now he was just messing with her. Sephiroth always left everyone to order their own drinks, but she decided to take the bait. Whatever it was for.

“Sure.”

*

“You really don’t have to walk me home.”

He still didn’t say anything and unlike the beginning of the night, Aeris didn’t mind his silence. Of course, that was probably due to the three ciders with no dinner buzzing around the edges of her consciousness.

“Seriously, Sephiroth, I’m three blocks away. I can make it there on my own.”

Still nothing. Not a single word as he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued escorting her down the sidewalk.

“You usually leave in the opposite direction,” she pushed. “You don’t have to waste your time, it’s perfectly okay.”

That effort to get her way fell flat as he leveled her with a stern stare, not a single pause in his step.

Taking in another breath, she tried a different approach. “Look, it’s really nice of you, but I’m used to it. Zack usually parts ways here and heads on home and it’s really not—”

“Zack lets you walk home alone?” he interrupted and judging from his tone, it was not something she should have told him.

“Sephiroth—”

“For the last month, you’ve been walking home alone?” he asked again, his voice even colder.

“It’s really not that big of a deal—”

“Aeris.”

Her jaw snapped shut, wisely deciding to cease her arguments. There was the tone, the same tone she heard in her dreams. The demand for perfection when her fingers fumbled over the keys or when her hands hesitated just a little too long and knocked off the rhythm. She’d heard that far too many times during the semester over the soft sounds of the piano and she knew better than to argue.

It seemed Sephiroth was determined to see her to her door and judging from the clench in his jaw, he wasn’t going to accept any other option.

They walked in silence, this one more tense than the small ones they fell in at the bar. She didn’t know what to think of this. Was he really that polite? Or worried about her safety? He hadn’t shown anything that would amount to this before, but she wouldn’t lie — it was nice to have the company. Usually, once Zack disappeared, she all but ran the remaining blocks to her building and darted up the stairs to her floor. Having Sephiroth there was…nice.

Which was weird. His company hadn’t ever been a soothing one, nor had she relished all the times he’d stood at her side while she struggled through a new passage. Maybe it was because his displeasure wasn’t directed at her that made it easier for her to enjoy it.

Aeris figured he would see her to the building and be done, but one glance at his expectant face told her otherwise. Pulling out her keycard, she swiped it through the scanner and led them both into the building. It wasn’t terrible to have his presence behind her and for once, she made her way to the elevator instead of the stairwell.

“I usually take the stairs,” she found herself explaining. “It works off some of those calories and I have this super irrational fear of being stuck in one alone, but I’m not alone now and it would be an awful way to repay your kindness to have you climb up six flights unnecessarily.”

He said nothing, though the corner of his lips twitched. She counted that as a success.

The elevator ride was quiet, too, and the floor of her dorm empty when the elevator arrived. She had been lucky to keep her dorm through the summer months instead of moving to a different one, but no one else on her floor had stayed that summer. She hadn’t thought much of the privacy before then, but with Sephiroth still at her side, she was grateful to be away from prying eyes.

“This is me,” she announced, fishing her keys out of her small purse as she came to a stop in front of her door. Fitting the key in the hole, she unlocked the door and finally turned to him. “Thank you for walking me up.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued watching her in that quiet, calculating way of his.

“Sorry for making you walk all this way.” She still couldn’t believe he was standing there in her hallway. “And now you have even further to go before you’re home and you really didn’t—”

“Aeris.”

She grimaced, the sudden softness in his tone exposing how ungrateful she was being. “Sorry! I just— uh…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

With one last look, she let herself into the apartment, locked the door behind her, and sank to the floor, wondering what on earth just happened.

*

“Sephiroth, you live in the other direction. What are you doing?”

He fell in step beside her again, much to the confusion of the rest of the group, particularly Zack.

“Walking Aeris home.”

Three questioning stares flicked from him to her and Aeris fought not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“You don’t have to, I—”

“Leave her to walk alone,” he interrupted, his tone short.

Damn, Sephiroth was not happy. She knew he hadn’t been content with her answers the last time, but she hadn’t known he would hold such contempt toward Zack about it now.

“Well, I mean, it’s only a few blocks—”

“I am walking her home.”

Silence stretched between them, only amplified when Genesis started snickering. Aeris kept her gaze in the direction of her building, not wanting to see whatever thoughts were flickering across Angeal’s face, and definitely not the contention between Zack and Sephiroth. Finally, something gave and she assumed it was Zack because the three of them began the route to her dorm.

Tension eased as soon as Zack parted ways, hollering a tipsy goodnight and leaving them to their devices. It wasn’t comfortable to be alone with Sephiroth, so very aware of his tall frame beside her, but it wasn’t as awkward as it had been the week before. It seemed she was slowly growing accustomed to his presence.

Into the building, up the elevator — oh, this really was such a relief to use instead of the staircase — and to her door again. Key into the lock and it seemed much less tense than it had the week before. Almost as if she enjoyed his silent company watching over her.

“Thank you for walking me up—”

His thumb and finger gently grasped her chin, angled her face up, and he silenced her with the soft press of his lips against hers. He only touched her in those two places, but heat seared down her body as if he had pressed against her completely.

“Have a good night, Aeris,” he whispered against her lips. His breath coasted her skin in a soft caress before he released her, watched her get safely inside, and then left.

That night his voice floated through her dreams, and for the first time ever since she started hearing him in her sleep, she slept the whole night through.

*

She saw him three more times before he pressed her against her door, then left. Another two times before she invited him in and he pressed her into her sofa, then left again. Aeris didn’t make it two days before she texted him, met him at the door to her building where he pressed her against the wall, the elevator door, and then finally into her mattress, and then he didn’t leave until morning.

Sephiroth, Angeal, and Genesis are all grad students: Sephiroth and Genesis for Jazz Instrumental Performance (piano and guitar) and Angeal for Music Theory and Composition with an unofficial jazz emphasis. Zack’s undergrad major is Instrumental Performance in percussion and Aeris is Music Therapy. I think. (Honestly, I haven’t given a whole lot of thought to her major, but that really fits her and I like the idea of it. She just excels at theory, so Zack stuck to her like white on rice. Also, Zack’s starting to take up more and more jazz classes, so I think he changed his focus from classical to jazz, too.) 

Angeal’s the best theory teacher the school has. Sephiroth got stuck teaching a piano class and isn’t really happy about it, but did what he needed to do for his scholarship to keep paying out. Genesis somehow finagled his way out of teaching and I think it’s because he forewent the scholarship, paying out of pocket through student loans and money he makes from performing gigs in the city. Or maybe he got the scholarship anyway and plays favorites to the dean. Who knows.

For Aeris’s fear of the elevator -- I think her fear of the sky makes perfect fucking sense in the game considering she’s from the slums and never, ever sees the sky, but I’ve heard a lot of criticism for it. So instead of ignoring it (because really, it makes so much sense and I’ve seen it in people who have never seen the ocean looking at the beach for the first time), I translated it into a silly fear she’s aware is silly because we all have those.

A lot of this is based on my own experiences, though it ends a whole lot better than my real life friend being hit on by our real life TA. Know your comfort, kids! If you’re okay with a former grad student hitting on you during summer when you’re no longer their student, have fun. If you’re not, reject their advances. If they don't listen, buckle down with supportive friends, dig your heels in, and put that grad student in their place. They'll back off. And if they don't, you blast that all over everywhere because the university/college will pay attention to that shit on social media. You’ll be fine, I promise, especially if you have good people at your back.

I wanted to add more to this drabble, but the more I got to know the characters in the game, the more I almost sent Aeris after Angeal because oh man is that boy one fine tree I’d love to climb. But I figured this idea would fit Aeris and Sephiroth best and I like the idea of Angeal getting it on with another grad student while quietly lusting after Zack. Whatever works. 

I’m aware this seems OOC for Sephiroth, but it makes sense in my head. That’s probably due to the large amount of backstory and other scenes in my head that didn’t make it out. HOWEVER this is supposed to be a drabble and it’s already over 3k words, so I tried to cut out everything else and keep it short.

And that’s it for the long author’s note. Let me know what you think!!

[ghostofnibelheim]

oflockharted​:

T lets those words sink in as they carried on closer to a small cottage in the distance. Sephiroth certainly wasn’t wrong about holding her guard. Even around vice president Rufus. The senior Shinra abused his power to the fullest extent. Everyone knew. Who was to say his son was any different? It was imperative T—no—everyone, remain on guard around their future boss.

                                                           Even if they were destined to protect him one day.

A small laugh comes bubbling out of her chest after the silverette’s two cents on Rufus as a love interest. Honestly now, “What was that? Don’t be silly. We can’t afford connections like that around the workplace,” something about saying that brought a hint of sadness in her tone. But not for the reasons of Rufus romantic unavailability to his employees, “…It’ll never work. Besides, I’m not interested in relationships. I guess… I’m just a little afraid for the future of shinra, you know?” of course Rufus was popular among men and women alike. He was handsome and charming. However, unbeknownst to most, Tifa held a strong affinity towards her red haired superior. That was where her soft spot lingered. And it was painful. She rather remain alone on her own terms than be told outright she was not allowed romantic escapades with her co-workers. Especially a superior she adored and admired greatly.

                                          Sephiroth didn’t need to know about any of that, though.

T simply nods afterwards, a smile reaching her lips. She would never think to question Sephiroth’s relationship choices if he didn’t want it. But her main interest was more of Rufus’ intentions on how he planned to run the company. Tifa wasn’t as close with the vice president like main turks, so she wouldn’t have a clue. She was used and exploited by Mr. Shinra for her abilities to communicate in a civil manner with extraterrestrial beings—strange as it were. That was basically all she was good for.

Upon reaching the front door, T puts on her ‘customer service’ facade and knocks sternly on the wooden surface.

A moment passes.

                                                                                                                           Nothing.

Zeroing in on the noises inside, or rather, lack thereof, she suddenly picks up what sounded like glasses breaking, and a back door slamming open as a male voice urges others to hurry along. Either the witness was planning to flee, or he wanted an advantage before starting a fight.

                                             What tore up T the most was when they were runners…

The desperation they had in all their attempts because their lives were in jeopardy…                                                                   It hurt so much…

Sighing, Tifa disappointingly shakes her head, beckoning the silver haired SOLDIER along, “Looks like we got a runner. Let’s go.”

He approved T’s response. Sephiroth’s sentiment was the same, the workplace was no environment to nurture romantic interests. Then again, this came easier to him more than most, as he didn’t find himself wanting for that at all. The ‘workplace’ comprised the entirety of his life, even when off-duty. To find someone at least serious enough to share that sentiment was a welcome change of pace, and the subtle bitterness in her words escaped him.

What he disagreed on however, was her concern for the company.

ShinRa wasn’t going anywhere. Whoever succeeded the President in holding its reins would bring little meaning for the corporation itself, so long as there’d be mako to be extracted, ShinRa would thrive.

Now, what that meant for the people under its talon… that was a different story entirely.

He said nothing of those thoughts, remaining silent as they had approached the cottage. Sephiroth’s focus was on the house, the telltale signs of movements coming from within. His intuition moved in tune with the girl’s, silver brows furrowing over green eyes of steel.

He contrasted her invitation to follow, preferring to take the matters in his own hands from here. Teamwork had never been his forte, as his old friends could probably testify.

“Round ‘em up.” He said cooly, one hand reaching to find the handle of the sword handle behind his waistline. With just that, he leapt and disappeared past the roof of the cottage with the grace of a bird of prey whose latches had been released by his falconeer.

She was fast, he trusted her to be able to intercept the girls, should their target try and make a separate escape.

[missingmywing]

Kunsel’s Origins

. . . . .

Kunsel looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then sighed and reached up towards his head. “We all have our secrets, Cloud.” He began unbuckling his helmet.

Cloud’s eyes widened. Kunsel never took off his helmet. As far as Cloud knew, no one had any idea what he looked like without it. He’d apparently never shown anyone, not even Zack.

As Kunsel pulled his helmet off, and their eyes met, Cloud realized why. “You’re Wutaian,” he breathed.

Kunsel smiled bitterly, and gestured for the blond to sit with him. Cloud complied, still staring at him in shock. Suddenly a lot of things made sense.

With a sigh, Kunsel began talking. “I’m actually from Umigake. It’s a town along the coast of Wutai,” he added at Cloud’s confused frown. “It wasn’t the first town to be hit during the war, obviously, but it was one of the earlier ones. It wasn’t particularly important, so it’s not mentioned in any of the books.” He grimaced. “Just one more obstacle conquered on the way to the capital,” he sighed, shaking his head. “It was my first experience with Shinra. And,” his lips twisted up wryly, “my first experience with General Sephiroth and his two commanders.” He reached up, fingers brushing the crisscrossing scars along the top right side of his face, the large burn scar across his temple that disappeared beneath his hair.

Cloud’s breath left him as the implications of that information sank in. “Kunsel…” he breathed, horrified.

The other sent him a wry smirk. “Pretty much. Course, they weren’t so high ranking then. They were still pretty young at the time, thirteen or fourteen and still trying to prove themselves, but… they were effective nonetheless.” He ran his hand through his sleek black hair, styled with sidebangs and a short ponytail that he hid beneath the helmet. “I was pretty young at the time, around seven or eight, so my main memory of the event is all the fire.” His eyes glazed over as he remembered. “We didn’t hear what was going to happen until about five or six hours before it did. We already had plans in place, of course, for when something did happen, but… it was terrifying nonetheless. When they did get there, all of us, the children, elders, and most of the women, were hidden beneath the false floors of the houses. Everyone else was outside, ready to fight back.” He swallowed quietly. “Not that they ever would have stood a chance. When Shinra arrived they gave the option to surrender. We could still hear them even inside the houses. They refused, of course, and said that everyone else was gone, that Shinra would have no place to hold there,” he let out a shuddering sigh.

“And that’s when everything was set on fire.” He chuckled bitterly, “Commander Rhapsodos has a natural ability with all Materia, but especially so with Fire. A mastered Fire with a mastered All is a very, very dangerous combination. And not very much survives when it’s put into action.”

Cloud swallowed, feeling sick, thinking of how often Kunsel and Genesis worked together, both on missions and off. They were friends, almost. That was… that was awful. “How… how did you… how do you…?”

Kunsel glanced over at him, seeming to come back to himself. “How did I end up here, and how do I stand it?” he asked, quizzically.

Cloud nodded mutely.

Kunsel huffed, leaning back against the loveseat. “Well, Kaa-san and I survived out of luck. A few others hiding did as well. Tou-san and the others were… not so lucky. I don’t know who killed him, I didn’t look to see. And I don’t think I want to. I admired him, and I don’t want to have to go on an honor-bound revenge trip if it turns out Genesis, Angeal, or Sephiroth did it. I’m happier not knowing, I think. But those of us who survived decided that we had a better chance of surviving in a place that wasn’t a war-zone. So we, using certain secret ways that don’t actually exist,” he winked at Cloud with a secretive, if wane, smile, “got smuggled across two continents and into Midgar’s slums. As I’m sure you can imagine, life didn’t get much easier from there.”

Shaking his head, he got up and disappeared into the kitchen of the Second Class apartment he shared with Zack, returning a moment later with two bottles of water. He tossed one to Cloud, who caught it gratefully, and flopped back down on the loveseat next to the couch. He took several swallows of it before setting it aside.

“Money was constantly tight, and a lot of the time we scraped by on one meal a day and constant work and haggling. It was hard, but it was possible for a while. And the Kaa-san got sick, and suddenly it wasn’t enough anymore. Friends helped where they could, but they were just as bad off as we were. I joined Shinra out of desperation, because I had no other options. I met Zack in the cadet program, and I’ve wondered many times if I did something to convince Leviathan to give me his blessing, because I’m still convinced that Zackary Fair is a literal god-send.”

Cloud snorted, but didn’t disagree. He’d had a few of the same thoughts himself before, wondering if he did something to make Odin favor him. Zack was the closest thing to an actual angel that he’d ever met, not that he’d ever tell him that.

Kunsel flashed him a small smile that told him the other understood. “He never asked why I kept my face concealed, though everyone else wondered and speculated. He just shrugged and said if I wanted to be a ninja, go for it. His literal words, mind you.” He added, shaking his head. Cloud hid a grin. That sounded exactly like Zack. “He’s the main reason I’ve been able to stand being here. Any time I feel like I just can’t take anymore of the company’s bullshit, I just think of him and how much he really, truly, wants to help everyone. He’s not the only reason,” Kunsel added quickly, “even if he is the main one. But there are good people here, even if they’re often overshadowed by the bad. There’s you, and your squad which are fairly decent despite containing a Turk spy.”

Cloud snorted and shook his head. “Don’t let Isa hear you calling her that. She might stab you for blowing her cover. We’re not, strictly speaking, supposed to know that ‘failing out’ of the Turk program doesn’t mean you’re not a Turk.”

Kunsel chuckled. “Perhaps if she guarded her cover better…”

“Maybe if you didn’t know everything…” Cloud retorted back.

Kunsel inclined his head. “Fair enough, I suppose. Though your squad seems knowledgeable enough…”

Cloud shrugged. “She… isn’t quite as good at keeping secrets as she thinks she is.”

“My point remains.”

Cloud hesitated for a brief moment before returning to the previous point. “What about… Sephiroth, and the others?”

“Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal…” Kunsel mused, considering. “I guess that’s a fair question, considering. Mostly, I look at them as humans. Which shouldn’t be shocking, I know, but when you consider everything you hear about them… I look at them, not as the monsters that Wutai considers them as, or as the gods the the easterners consider them to be, but as humans thrust into war as children, as unhappy to be there as I was. It may be a bit incorrect, as they were far more willing to participate than I was, I’m sure, but… it makes it easier. And they aren’t awful people, either. I actually rather like Angeal. Zack has, no doubt, created a bit of a bias in that respect. It helps me deal with it. Genesis has an awful temper, and he’s impatient and arrogant, but he’s a decent person at heart. And Sephiroth…” he winced, “he’s… probably more of a victim than anyone else.” He huffed out a wry chuckle. “And yet, despite everything, I can’t even say I hate it here. Despite everything, Midgar, SOLDIER, has become home. Maybe if things had turned out differently, maybe if the war had ended sooner, if Kaa-san hadn’t died, I would have resigned and returned to Wutai. But now… I don’t really want to. I’ve lived in Midgar longer than I lived in Wutai, and I have more emotional connections here than I ever had there.” He shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe that makes me a bad person, or a traitor to my culture. I don’t know.”

Cloud shook his head. “I don’t think that it makes you a bad person. After everything you’ve been through, after all the effort you’ve put in to be brave and to survive, I think you deserve a bit of a break to do what you want.” He let out a wry huff, clasping his hands in his lap. “I don’t think I’d be brave enough or strong enough to do any of that.”

Kunsel reached over and ruffled his hair. “I think you’d be surprised what you can do if you feel it’s necessary.”

Cloud raised his brow skeptically. “If you say so.”

“I absolutely do.” Kunsel replied firmly. “Besides, Zack believes in you doesn’t he?”

Ducking his head slightly, embarrassed, Cloud nodded.

“Well, there you go!” He paused for a moment, listening, before he reached over and snagged his helmet, pulling it on. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” he noted.

Cloud snorted. “If he’s a god-send, wouldn’t he be an angel?”

“Fair point. Though he’s got to be the most accident-prone angel I’ve ever met.”

“That bad?”

“Well, there was this one time when we were cadets-”

“Hey guys, I’m back!” Zack bounced into the room with a grin. “You two played nice while I was gone, right?”

“Of course,” Kunsel retorted instantly, “I was just telling him about the Marlboro incident in the Slums when we were cadets.”

Zack’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no, no, no, no! Don’t do that!”

Cloud glanced between them curiously, playing along. “Now I have to know. What happened?”

“Nothing!”

Kunsel grinned wickedly. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else. It’s my favorite blackmail material on him.”

“Nooooo…”

Cloud read the message underneath, and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He knew what it was like to have an unspeakable secret, after all.

. . . . .

This is basically just a headcanon bit that applies to most of my FFVII stories. Not necessarily an active part, but background story. I don’t know why, it just is. But it’s my baby and I love it. (And Kunsel needs more love. Even if he has to undergo pain for it to be shown.)

Any thoughts on this? I’m curious about other people’s headcanons about him.

(Also this may or may not be an excerpt out of Bruises and Bitemarks. Just. You know. An interaction that’ll happen at some point in later chapters that haven’t been written yet. Cloud’s a vampire, and thus has an unspeakable secret as well, so he and Kunsel understand each other on a level that comes from keeping a long-term life-threatening secret.)

[leonawriter]

To Change A Sombre Morrow (chapter eight)

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Characters: Genesis, Red XIII, others.

Summary: Now featuring early cameos. Genesis can't quite believe what's going on. Admittedly, it's a lot to get used to.

"Are you actually a SOLDIER, mister?"

Genesis bit back the urge to snap, satisfying himself only with drumming his fingers against his other arm, and raising an eyebrow at the boy, half his height and with messy dark brown hair. A quick look confirmed that he wasn't the only one, either - there were several others following him through the town, some trying to hide and some not bothering.

The accent was familiar, because of course it was. Stronger than he remembered from Cloud and Tifa, but still recognisable as the Nibelheim way of talking.

"SOLDIER First Class," he said dryly, "Genesis." His voice had mostly recovered in the day that he had been forced to recover. He'd slept for some time before waking up with smoke inhalation and memories returned to him in nightmare form, and after that Vincent glaring at him for several hours if he'd so much as tried to head toward a door or window.

They had reached an impasse when they had both remembered that given what had happened in the Reactor, they were running on borrowed time, now. Even if Hojo didn't arrive to check it in person, someone would come.

He should be feeling more offended at having to inform the boy of his name at all, knowing that Cloud had clearly heard of Sephiroth even in a backwater place like this, but apparently these brats couldn't recognise him, and instead he waited for the inevitable recognition.

The boy's eyes widened in awed realisation, and several of the ones trailing behind made excited noises that mollified his annoyance some.

Which was, of course, when the questions started.

"Is that why your coat's all singed? Because it was you who killed the dragon?"

It was a good thing it had been dragon that had been the focus of the mission Shinra had put on the bulletin, or he would have been having trouble explaining his sorry state to more than just village children.

"Does that mean you know Sephiroth?"

Masamune flashing screaming his name grey skin and dying and dying-

-looking at him in shock-

and understanding, as he walked out of the training room.

"As well as any can say that they do," he said. Better than most, came the dark thought. I know what he's capable of at his worst. "And yes. I even have proof," he added with a smile, losing patience.

He was an actor. He had performed, for an audience, and what he was doing now was not nearly so different. He merely had to make it through and find his way back to Midgar.

"...I wanna be a SOLDIER."

He froze at the words that he had picked up, enhanced hearing and the wind carrying them to him, and slowly turned around. The children followed his line of sight toward where the speaker had been hiding, behind the water tower. Laughed, noisily, probably thinking that Genesis was seeing them, and not believing for one second that the smallest could get in.

They had likely heard this sort of thing from him before, after all.

Blue eyes on a pale face framed by spiked blond hair stared defiantly back at him. The only difference between the ones he was looking at and the ones he remembered was that these eyes weren't glowing, not even showing a slight bit in the light of day.

"If you think you can survive the monsters," he said eventually, "be my guest."

Let them think I was referring to dragons, he thought. If that's what they want to believe.

...

He's halfway back to Midgar when he stops long enough to change the bandages on his shoulder again, sees that the blood on the old ones is dried on, the skin underneath tender and pink and he stares.

Stares, because he was supposed to be degrading, he wasn't supposed to be able to heal-

And yet, there it was. Sore, aching, and a vulnerability, but healing.

He remembered Vincent saying that he'd used high-level healing items in the wake of his burning Jenova, but hadn't thought anything of it. Had forgotten, for a while, that his lungs should have remained burnt and his extremities singed no matter how many Cures were cast.

You can't expect to fall from even a low-hanging dumbapple tree and expect to get away with nothing, he remembered someone saying, tall and beautiful and who looked nothing like him at all. Look at you. Broken arms can take weeks to heal. Everyone will think you're no better than the children who climb up those trees to steal from them, you know that.

His shoulder was - had been, still was - both more and less serious than the broken arm he'd had at ten years old and smarting from the blow to his pride, but...

He takes the time to walk a while, resting his wing, breathing in the air of a part of the Planet that didn't stink of mako while he wasn't racing several thousand feet up in the cold so that no one looked twice at what could be a bird, if they didn't care enough to wonder what else it might be.

...

"You know," the lion-dog creature says - Nanaki, he'd been told, although some merely called him 'Red', and it had only taken a glance at the  tattoo to realise that they had similar experiences, experiments all, "it always surprises me, seeing a former SOLDIER so interested in the Lifestream. Most don't even really care, even now. I think most ex-SOLDIERs prefer to ignore anything that serves as a reminder for what they are."

They were sat around the Cosmo Candle, the fire flickering and reminding him of Firaga spells and aerial bombings, more than home and stability. He had one knee up to his chin, his hair tied back in a fast and loose ponytail.

It's his first trip there, Hollander having never spent long if he had gone as far as to go in person, and Genesis having preferred to stay in Banora or search for more substantial leads at the time. 

He'll come back a few more times, to check on Weiss, left in the care of those who know more about the Lifestream and healing than he does.

Nanaki is sat on his right. His wing is out and curled around him on his left, shielding him from some of the cold, and some of the stares.

"In case you hadn't noticed," he says, "I am not most former SOLDIERs."

"No, most former SOLDIERs can't hold their own against Cloud while running on sheer guts and sparks, from what I hear."

He grunts at that, wishing that the story hadn't apparently spread so far, so fast. It would have made things... easier. Nanaki says it in good humour, though, which helps.

"They used to say that about Sephiroth," he says before he can stop himself. "Angeal and I were the only ones who could keep up with him. At least Cloud has the decency to break a sweat," he adds with a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

It made him feel like at least there, he could actually wonder if he might win the next spar, rather than the building frustration of Sephiroth always being that far above him, and Genesis constantly being that far behind.

Sometimes, the only reason he lost was because Cloud would react in a way that Genesis didn't think he should be able to - a reflexive motion that on anyone else, would have been from watching and fighting Genesis for years, but Cloud and he had only sparred a handful of times. It was something that Sephiroth would do - and for that reason, Genesis never brought it up.

Nor the fact that the first time it had happened, he had lost the spar due to shock holding him in place, not due to lack of ability to respond.

"I forget that about you too."

He didn't want to say that sometimes he did, too, because that would feel like more of a betrayal than anything else he'd done. He had to remember. Because Angeal was gone, and Sephiroth...

In some ways, he felt that this was something else they shared. They were the last, after all. Left behind.

"The wind sails over the water's surface," he intoned, different from his usual recitations. This was no high drama. "Slowly, but surely..."

Life carried on. Like it would with or without them. 

There would come a day when he was gone, too.

"What do you think it is, then?" There was curiosity in Nanaki's voice, in the way he turned his head. "The play talks about a 'Gift of the Goddess'."

Genesis spares a moment to appreciate that despite being a child of his species' standards, Nanaki could tell fine literature when he reads it.

His hand reaches up to his shoulder, which - even now, years on, aches when the weather is cold, or changes quickly. Thinks about Zack Fair, standing in front of him with Angeal's sword and Angeal's honour and Sephiroth's blood, and later, fulfilling Genesis' childish childhood dream.

He sighs, and watches, unable not to pick up a few words here and there, as Cloud explains the place they're in to Denzel, as well as why they're there and what they're doing.

Remembering, Genesis thinks. And reflecting. He usually isn't very good at either - or, sometimes, too good at just the wrong times, he's started to think more recently - and right now is one of those rare times when he's doing both but at the right time, and the right place for it, too.

"...Healing," he says at last. 

Perhaps it was vague, in a sense. But there was more than one way to heal a man. Zack's pride in SOLDIER even after he had learned to distrust Shinra had given him an example to follow, one that he wished Angeal could have seen for himself, before he had chosen to die. The goddess forcing him to face himself as he was, had been much like how the doctors had often encouraged SOLDIERs to set a broken bone properly before it healed, or before using materia on it, or they would have to re-break it to enable it to heal correctly.

He'd needed to learn that, given he'd not only been learning combat materia. He really should have kept it in mind.

...

His PHS buzzed with a new message while he was angling down and away from the clouds again, though he only knew that much because the thing was in a coat pocket right next to him, the sound completely muffled by the wind.

Two days, and they'd already sent out a company-wide mail saying that one of their reactors had been damaged 'but still able to continue working'. AVALANCHE had apparently spoken up as soon as they'd heard about it, and taken responsibility. 

It took Genesis a moment to remember that the AVALANCHE that was referred to here, was not the same one that was more family than organisation, more a team of heroes each in their own right than the mere eco-terrorists that this one was, if his memory was correct.

He's able to see Midgar in the distance when another mail comes through - an unknown number. No name. 

The only details in the message are the words Perhaps with this, my sins will start to be atoned for. There aren't any attachments. 

Genesis leaves it in the spam folder, but marks it to keep, instead of to be deleted. Thinks of the labs in the mansion destroyed, the books burning, and wishes it gave him more of a sense of satisfaction. Perhaps it would come later.

He should head straight back to HQ, he knows that, both because of the van and because he needs to report back, even though Nibelheim is half a world away from Midgar, and he'd gone without the aid of a helicopter, taking his time to make sure it didn't seem as though he'd travelled too quickly, but...

He abandons the van, no longer caring if it ended up gone by the time he got back, and slips through the crowds in the same way he learned to when he had been hunted down, drawing the shadows around him.

The church is empty, once he arrives, of anything other than flowers. 

There's no Cloud, no Tifa, no children playing around by the water or tending to the flowers.

No Buster Sword over by the altar.

Which is good. 

And yet, at the same time, it hurts, because for all the peace and tranquility this place has, it feels empty, hollow, lacking.

Genesis' hands clench into fists. It isn't just the church that feels hollow.

He had changed something. Unless there was something he had never been made aware of concerning just how much Jenova could survive, how little of her would be necessary in order for her to do what she seemed to do best and reach out and take, and change, and mould into her image, letting you almost forget what you'd ever been without her, as if you'd ever been anything without her...

If he had done what he had intended, then Jenova was gone. Gaia and Goddess alone knew what that meant for the SOLDIER program, given how the process relied on not only mako but also her cells.

Vincent was awake. Awake, and mobile. In all likelihood, already on his way to systematically destroy the next lab. And if the ex-Turk ran into Hojo while he was at it, if the professor decided to investigate matters a little more personally... well, he wasn't Genesis' personal demon to deal with. 

No, he had been Vincent's. Cloud and Zack's, too. And a long list of others. The man's interference with Genesis' own life had been comparably impersonal. 

As if using my genes, my cells, to create the Tsviets was 'nothing personal, you merely have something that I want. He flinched at his own wording, remembering all too well how his own request of Sephiroth hadn't been too far different. Nothing personal. I just want to live. 

He grimaced, halfway between laughing bitterly, and simple disgust. 

Perhaps he was right to leave me like that.

Genesis sighed, and forced himself to relax his tensed muscles, to ease the growing pain in his shoulder. His healing shoulder. Slowly, but steadily. He'd seen the mako begin to take hold once again, now that he knew what to look for. The irritating itching that had been around for days before Jenova's destruction had been a warning sign. One that he hadn't paid attention to.

And now here I am. I thought that I could save the world early, and come striding back in as if nothing had changed.

Something had, though. He had. Although whether that was caused by what he had destroyed, or what he had remembered, was another matter entirely-

In the echoing silence of the church, the sounds of the rest of Midgar and the surrounding slums had faded away, but now there had been a gasp, the acoustics and his enhanced hearing carrying it close.

His hand was on Rapier out of reflex as he stood from the pew and turned, and only relaxed when he realised that it was merely a girl. 

Pale dress, long, braided hair. Slight thing. Probably not a threat, then.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," she said, a hand on her heart still, but smiling. Honestly, too. "I just didn't expect to see anyone here this early. You startled me."

Genesis narrowed his eyes at the now clear light of morning beginning to stream through the windows and - more brightly and naturally - through the hole in the roof that was already there. 

If he took too much longer, there would be questions, whether he was ready to face them or not.

"I was just leaving," he said as he passed her on the way out, a storm settling into his expression like the ones that he'd worked so hard to avoid ever since gaining his short yet limited freedom from Shinra, focusing only on putting one step after another, back toward the den of monsters itself.

[dustofwarfare]

sephiroth appreciation week: #3 Fight

For the prompt “Fight” for day 3 of #sephirothweek!

This is basically introspective but it’s Sephiroth/Genesis, implied Sephiroth/Genesis/Angeal, warning for flowery language and metaphors??? Other than that, teen maybe for language and references to canon violence.

(about 900 words:  at AO3  if you prefer)

fight me (vigorous and angry) 

Fighting with Genesis is not something Sephiroth enjoys.

Not sparring, that he likes that fine -- more than fine, considering how it usually ends. But fighting with Genesis, with words, about things Sephiroth does not understand why they’re suddenly a big deal when they haven’t been before….

“He’s only doing it to get a rise out of you,” Angeal says, shaking his head, after one such incidence. “He likes that.”

“There are easier ways to get me in bed, if that’s what he wants,” Sephiroth responds, frowning. “I don’t particularly want to speak with him at the moment, much less do anything else.”

Angeal sighs. “He doesn’t -- it’s not just about sex, Seph. It’s about getting you riled up. Angry.”

“Why would he want that?” Sephiroth’s eyes narrow. “I was under the impression Genesis had some…regard for me, out of bed, that would keep him from wanting me to be in foul temper.”

Angeal smiles, sighs and shakes his head all at once. “He does. And -- you know what? I think you should ask him why he does it, if you want to know.”

It takes a few days, in which Sephiroth ignores him and Genesis tries to poke at him like he’s a sore muscle. Finally they meet in the training room -- just the two of them, Angeal isn’t as fond of this particular kind of foreplay -- and it takes a good long duel and a fuck against the wall before they speak without snarling.

“Angeal says you like to make me emotional,” Sephiroth says, lying flat on the floor in his undershirt and pants, sweat cooling on his skin thanks to the ventilation fans in the ceiling.

“Emotional,” Genesis snorts, turning to look at him. He’s relaxed, bare-chested, his skin marked up with bites and scratches and his pants pulled up but not buttoned. His smile lacks the edge it sometimes has, when it’s directed at Sephiroth. “Yes Seph. I like to make you emotional. I like to make you angry. Everyone else is too afraid of you to do it.”

“Why do you want to make me angry?” Sephiroth pushes his hair away from his damp face. “He says it’s not about sex, but….”

“Because you’re too...too much a thing and not a person, when you don’t have someone there to annoy you,” Genesis says. “And no, I don’t do it because I want to fuck. When I want to fuck, you’ll know.”

Sephiroth isn’t sure about that. Genesis is not an easy man for Sephiroth to understand; he is fire to Sephiroth’s ice, to Angeal’s earth.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been allowed to have an emotion in your life,” Genesis says. “I think every time you dared have a feeling, Hojo manipulated you into pretending you didn’t. Weapons don’t feel, do they? They just fire.”

“Hmm.” Sephiroth pushes up on his elbows and looks over at him. “So you’re taking it upon yourself to, what? Fix this lapse in my education?”

“Not your education, your emotional well-being. Your humanity.”

“You don’t do this to Angeal,” Sephiroth mutteres.

“Because he doesn’t need it. He’s laid-back by nature. You’re not. You’re a writhing cauldron of emotion and you insist if you slam a lid on it, it’s not there. But it is.” Genesis moves with his usual lethal grace and straddles Sephiroth, his skin warm and his hands insistent. “You’ll thank me one day, Seph.”

“Hmm.” Sephiroth tangles his hand in Genesis’ messy hair and pulls him down for a kiss.

***

Sephiroth stands in front of the tank in Nibelheim, Zack’s voice a drone in his ears --

Stop this, Sephiroth, listen to me, you’re not a monster --

The hate is so hot it feels like it’s burning him up into ash.

((Come to me, my son. Let me take this from you.))

Her voice is cool like water, like ice, blanking the flames of his incendiary rage.

You’ll thank me one day, Seph.

Maybe it would have been enough if they’d had more time, if they’d had a thousand more annoyances and irritations layered on top of each other.

But they didn’t, and it’s not.

***

He faces Cloud in the Northern Crater and feels death coming, reaching up and offering, in its own way, the same thing Jenova did when she whispered to him in the metal tomb of a dying reactor.

An end, a ceasing. Darkness to put out the light.

Death comes for him at the end of a sword, in lightning-bright slashes that rip him to pieces.

It is dark in the Lifestream, but it still burns.

***

He covers the sky with the storm of his rage above ShinRa’s tower of ruin, and Cloud bests him again with his shining sword and his mako-bright eyes.

The darkness takes him but he knows he won’t sleep.

***

Aren’t you tired of this? She asks, her voice sweet.

Sephiroth -- or whatever he is, now, this consciousness torn in a thousand different ways by a thousand different masters -- remembers the training room floor and the sweat cooling on his skin, remembers a voice saying you’ll thank me one day, remembers falling, and breaking, and the way it feels to be ripped apart down to the soul.

Yes, he says. But all I know how to do is fight.

You fight because you don’t want to feel, she says.

(Weapons don’t feel, do they? They just fire.)

[s-ephiroth]

Sephiroth Week || Day 1: Labs

(An unexpected conversation, heard in the eerie quietude of the labs.)

Even when he arrives at his apartment, he can still feel all the things that make the Shinra Science Department what it is. The smells of chemicals — of mako, too — that cling to him like a ghost seeking to haunt, the sheer cleanness of the place, the distant sounds of whatever specimens would be brought there to be worked on, the blinding lights that never fail in giving him headaches.

And Hojo. Always Hojo.

Hojo who, upon getting yelled at, made sure that he regretted his words by the use of scientific procedures, (always Science) that wouldn’t harm him in the long term in regards to his physical condition but that were unnecessary, regardless, even if those were allowed to be performed as they wouldn’t bring the company to ruin and Sephiroth wasn’t a head of any department to have much say on it.

Sephiroth steps into his own shower — that unlike the ones in the Science Department, don’t restrict the time he takes to clean off or throw mako (and whatever else the SOLDIER serum is made of) over him — still feeling somewhat disgusted with himself due to the experience, as something about having a certain scientist (“scientist”) handle such procedures with free allowance to abuse them if necessary (unnecessary) makes him feel dirty. He lets the warm water wash away the stress, uncaring of how expensive his long showers tend to be for the company.

They’d rather pay to have me before letting me go.

Deliberately taking his time to have his hair as clean as it was before he entered the labs, he ends up spending even more time than he usually does in the shower. And it’s only after then, as he’s blow drying his hair that he realizes something that has an utter dread set low in his stomach.

He’s forgotten his phone in that damned place.

Worse, he needs to have the phone with him in the morning and thus, doesn't have the privilege of waiting until the following day to fetch it. Especially worse than that, at the time he notices this, the Science Department's officially closed for the day, meaning only a certain someone would be there; lingering for one or another last-minute experiment of the day.

Not really wanting the extra interaction, he decides to sneak in. He was trained for the necessity of being stealthy because of the war, after all, a laboratory should be an easier task.

Except nothing even prepares him for the conversation he gets to hear, which forces him to hide behind some of the complex equipment of the labs as quickly and discreetly as he can.

“No, boy, I told you to send her back to Nibelheim,” Hojo says to someone on the other side of a call, quite angered, “Or do I have to take her there myself?” There's a pause as whoever it is on the end of the line probably tries to explain themselves.

(A foolish move.)

“Just make sure Jenova gets there safe and sound.”

Jenova… his mother?

Sephiroth watches from the place he’s hiding as the annoyed scientist ends the call, a little too intrigued; somewhat concerned with what he just heard. Hojo turns to look right at his hiding spot in such an eerie manner that he could swear the old man’s able to sense his presence if he didn't know any better.

“Hmm… very intriguing,” the scientist mutters to himself but turns again to go on his merry way, failing to detect Sephiroth entirely. Or so the SOLDIER hopes.

Regardless of which of those is the case, Sephiroth wastes no time in getting out of the labs as quick as he can. Outside, he meets a lonesome infantryman guarding the area — who was definitely not there before — and quickly motions for the man to stay quiet.

“If word comes out I’ve been here tonight, I’ll know it’s you and I’ll see to it you’re properly dismissed from your duties. Understood, cadet?”

The infantryman, a little too short compared to most of his peers, simply nods somewhat hesitantly. Nobody expects General Sephiroth to appear during one’s night shift and ask (threaten) for secrecy, anyway.

“Good,” Sephiroth offers to that agreement, “May your shift go well.”

That isn’t something he gets to say very often — especially to infantrymen in general — but in the heat of the moment he doesn't quite catch himself before it slips out, nor makes any attempt of taking back the words. He has a place to go, after all, and until he gets on an elevator the risk of being seen by someone else in Hojo’s vicinity is far greater than what he prefers. There's no way he's going to ruin the efforts he put in not being seen, (except by that single, scared infantryman) not even by cameras, by being seen by even more people. Gossip travels fast inside Shinra.

When he finally gets back home again and lies down to try to sleep, Sephiroth finds out that the strange conversation he witnessed won’t leave his head.

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, having trouble to sleep after returning from the labs, but yet this time it’s different. His mother is likely alive and being taken somewhere else. His mother who was kept from him for so longer.

He wonders. If all this time she’s been around and alive instead of what he’s been told all his life, then why would Hojo and the company want to keep them apart? Sephiroth finds out the thought offers a dozen other questions that just keep him from relaxing and simply falling asleep.

Silently cursing his luck, he turns onto his side and covers his head with the pillow, a little too annoyed.

Maybe… if she’s in the company — or has been in the company recently — there should be data about her somewhere. He promises himself he’ll search for said data when the next day comes, if anything, to give himself some peace of mind.

[ookamikasumi-fanfics]

Diabolic 6

Summary: Vincent Valentine is kidnapped by the ghost of Sephiroth for a very personal mission. 

(S/VV- After AC) COMPLETE

All characters property of Square Enix. This story was written for the intent of Personal enjoyment. No money was made from this work.

Warning! Rated NC-17: hard-core Yaoi content, adult language, mild violence, non-con seduction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Six ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Filthy Beast! Filthy BEAST! FILTHY BEAST!” The viciously shrill shriek gouged rotting green nails across Vincent’s mind.

Infuriated, the darkness that shared Vincent’s soul bellowed in horrifically thunderous reply and slashed right back with black lightning claws.

Jenova, the cancerous proto-life shrieked and swelled in twisted insanity seeking to wrap its tentacle fingers around the crackling darkness.

The equally insane acidic un-life of Chaos unraveled the grasping tendrils down to the elemental level.

Trapped between them, Vincent screamed. Bones shifted with wet aching pops, lengthening and realigning at a murderous rate. Muscle and sinew expanded at unholy speed. Bone pierced flesh becoming horns and ridges. Flesh stretched and hardened into a new and armored shape, the entire body changing from human to…other.

All three eyes wide open, Vincent tumbled into eye-searing swirling light and color. A creature made for utter darkness, he was completely blinded by the sunlight. Clawed, fanged, winged, and monstrous in size, he crashed into unseen objects, his body writhing in echo of its internal battle.

Fever raged through him, causing foam to drip from his fanged jaws and sweat to slither between the plates of his armor. Pain stabbed into every joint, and boiled in his belly.

Blindly he bolted, seeking cooling darkness, crashing into trees and trampling anything underfoot. His claws gouged deep smoking scars into the earth. His wings beat and his tail lashed, crashing into trees and stone, blindly smashing everything in its path.

It went on for an eternity.

Abruptly his belly twisted sharply. He froze in his tracks, then dropped where he stood, gagging hard and violently, his entire body cramping with his efforts. Vomit spewed, redolent of sour blood and thick with things he was glad he couldn’t see.

The screaming in his head stopped. Cool blessed stillness descended. He collapsed on his side in sheer exhaustion and groaned in relief.

The change came again but softly, the body melting from its monstrous form, leaving Vincent naked and panting in a tumble of shattered branches and shorn leaves. The rustling wind whispered around him. He closed his eyes and sighed. The battle was over.

“Vincent!” The voice was deep, masculine, and loud. Too loud. He was shouting and getting closer. Crashing accompanied the shouts. Tree branches groaned and snapped like gunshots.  “Vincent, say something damn you!”

Vincent winced and tried to ignore it. He was tired, damn it.

More crashing, more snapping, some crunching… “Vin- eh?” The crashing stopped. “Ah, fuck!” Footsteps crunched and a branch snapped right behind Vincent. “Vincent?”

He rolled away from all the noise and groaned.

“You’re alive…!” Clothing rustled. Fingers traced lightly through Vincent’s hair, down his shoulder to his hip. “Nothing looks broken.”

Vincent moaned, lifted a hand and batted it toward the annoyance. “Leave me alone, I wanna sleep.”

A blanked was draped over him and then a warm arm slid around his shoulders, another slid under his knees. “You’re welcome to sleep, but not here.”  He was lifted and cradled against a broad warm chest, blanket and all.

Vincent opened his eyes in annoyance. He stared blearily up at the strong profile of Sephiroth then looked around. Huh? What he had thought was a blanket was apparently some kind of black leather cape lined in soft wool, and he was being held…like a child. “What the hell…?” He shifted uneasily, but he was just too damned tired to make any effort beyond that. “What are you doing?”

Sephiroth snorted and took a long step over downed branches. “What does it look like? I’m carrying you.”

Vincent’s face heated. “Put me down! I’m not a girl, damn you!”

Sephiroth stopped and lifted a silver brow. “Can you walk?”

Vincent crossed his arms and scowled. “I don’t need to walk, I can sleep right here.”

Sephiroth snorted and continued, stepping past a shattered tree. “Not a good idea.”

“Neither was feeding me Jenova-tainted blood!”

Sephiroth’s cheeks pinked. “I’ll admit that I may have underestimated your reaction to it.”

“You underestimated…?” Vincent’s temper flared. He grabbed a long lock of white hair and tugged on it sharply. “In case you didn’t know, they had a fucking war in my head!”

Sephiroth winced. “Ow…” He jerked his head to the side, pulling his hair free. “The war wasn’t just in your head.”

“What?”

“Allow me to show you.” He stepped into a forest clearing that look like it had been created by a bulldozer gone insane.

Vincent stared. “Holy shit…”

Sephiroth smiled sourly at Vincent. “For once we are in complete agreement.” He spread his wings and launched into the sky. “But wait, it gets better.”

Vincent was thrown hard against Sephiroth’s chest. Crap! He grabbed onto Sephiroth’s shoulders.

Sephiroth swooped into a long low glide. He nodded. “Look.”

Vincent turned. Directly below them lay devastation. The insane bulldozer had cut a broad and incredibly crooked swathe through forest and deserted town. It looked like it had run very nearly the entire length of the huge floating island. Vincent had to forcibly close his mouth. He frowned. “I’m surprised I didn’t go off the edge.”

Sephiroth snorted. “You very nearly did, a few times.”

“I did?” Vincent’s heart thumped. That was a two kilometer drop straight down. Crap! It wouldn’t have killed him, he was damned near immortal, but he would have been hurting for a very, very long time. “What happened?”

Sephiroth took a deep breath and sighed it back out. “I, ah… I pushed you back from the edge with a couple of wind spells.”

Vincent stared. “You did?” He couldn’t have heard that right. It was a well known and heavily documented fact that Sephiroth didn’t save anyone but himself. “You used magic to keep me from falling over the edge?”

“I didn’t know what else to use!” Sephiroth scowled. “Your beast form is rather large. I wasn’t sure how strong to make the spells at first. I finally ended up using very nearly hurricane force. I almost had to call on an elemental.” He curled his lip. “You’re extremely stubborn, you know that?”

“Wait, wait…” Vincent shoved his blowing hair out of his face. “You’re saying you used your magic to save me?” That was not the Sephiroth he knew at all. The one he knew couldn’t care less if his lackeys died. He merely replaced them.  

The dark angel huffed. “Well, you had to be stopped and it was all I could think of to use at the time.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s so much easier to kill people, than it is to rescue them.”

Vincent felt a smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, was it a new experience for you?”

Sephiroth’s bared his teeth. “Shut up!”

Vincent crossed his arms. “All right, I believe you.”

Sephiroth snarled. “I am not in the habit of lying!” He pointed out a mass of downed trees. “You can clearly see where your path leads to the edge and also where I drove you back.”

Vincent didn’t even bother to look. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sephiroth blinked, then frowned. “Excuse me?”

A smile curved Vincent’s lips. “I am finally convinced that you are not the man that tried to kill the world.”

Sephiroth’s expression smoothed, neither smiling nor frowning, but his cheeks pinked. “Luckily you went in the opposite direction of where we are staying so we still have a bed to sleep on.”

Vincent snorted. It was a deliberate change in subject.  Was it that embarrassing? “So, when do I get some clothes?”

Sephiroth lifted a silver brow and his arrogant smile returned. “I prefer you in the nude.”

Vincent curled his lip. “I noticed.” He sighed. “But I have to go back eventually.”

Sephiroth drifted into a downward spiral. “Eventually.” He landed gracefully only two steps away from the gazebo archway. He shoved through the curtains and strode for the round bed. The sheets had been changed to scarlet.

Vincent blinked. He made the bed?

Sephiroth let Vincent slide down onto his feet, but didn’t release him from his embrace. “Can you stand?”

“Of course.” He pushed back, out of the dark angel’s arms. His knees shook but he stayed upright. “There, see?”

“Good.” Sephiroth promptly tugged the cape from Vincent’s shoulders and took two steps back.

Vincent snatched for the cape and missed. “Hey!”

“I’m going to make it shower for you.” Sephiroth raised his hands. “I don’t want that to get wet.”

Vincent tilted his head. “Huh?”

Sephiroth snorted and began gesturing with his hands. “You’re filthy. You’re not getting in that bed until you’re clean.” He parted his hands.

Hot water sprinkled down onto Vincent’s head. He blinked. “Holy crap!” He laughed and looked up. There was a small churning cloud right over his head. The water was perfect in temperature, just hot enough to loosen his muscles. “What about soap?”

Sephiroth frowned. “Hmm… Close your eyes, and keep them closed ‘til I say you can open them.”

Vincent closed his eyes. “Okay.”

Sephiroth spoke a word.

The water striking Vincent’s skin thickened. He rubbed his hands along his arms and discovered some kind of slick lotion that foamed. It smelled like…vanilla. Well, at least now he knew the secret of how Sephiroth had managed to look clean and fresh even directly after a battle. He smiled briefly. It was one of the little things that drove Cloud insane. “You are certainly versatile with your magic.”

Sephiroth clapped once. The hot water returned. “Merely practical. You may open your eyes.”

Vincent discovered that he was covered in liquid soap. He turned his back on Sephiroth and started scrubbing. “This has got to be the most practical application of magic I’ve ever seen.”

Sephiroth’s voice brushed against Vincent’s ear. “I like to stay clean.”

Vincent whirled and nearly smacked face-first into a bare-naked Sephiroth. He hadn’t even heard him get undressed. He jerked back.

Sephiroth grabbed Vincent by the arms. “Don’t fall over!” He smiled. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

Vincent swallowed. “Uh, sure.” He shifted, easing his arms from Sephiroth’s hands. “It’s your spell.” He turned away and continued to scrub.

Sephiroth chuckled and water splashed.

Vincent’s gaze slid to the side. Water sluiced down Sephiroth’s form, defining each muscle, hollow, and plane, in gleaming rivulets. Blood and hell the man was well-made. His heart thumped and heat pooled low. He jerked his gaze away.

Sephiroth reached out and slid a hand down Vincent’s spine.

Vincent jolted.

Sephiroth raised his hand, revealing that it was covered in suds and flashed a smile. “Thank you for the soap.”

Vincent cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure.” He turned, angling just a bit further away -- to hide his growing erection. Damn it! His physical reactions to this man were getting out of hand. He scrubbed as quickly as he could, including his hair. Mud and shredded leaves sluiced down his body and pooled at his feet. Sephiroth had been right, he was filthy. He tilted his head back to rinse the last of the soap from his hair and sighed.

“Finished?”

Vincent nodded. “Yeah.”

The water stopped.

Vincent stared at the water pooling at his feet. “I don’t suppose you have any towels hidden somewhere do you?”

Sephiroth chuckled. “Close your eyes.”

Vincent blinked at him. Another spell? He closed his eyes. “Okay.”

Sephiroth spoke yet another word.

Dry heat wrapped around Vincent in a thick warm blanket. It felt wonderful. He groaned, and scrubbed his fingers through his long wet hair. Dizziness assaulted him and he wavered on his feet.

Sephiroth clapped. The heat ended. “All right, to bed with you.”

Vincent opened his eyes. “Huh?”

Sephiroth stepped behind Vincent and caught him by the shoulders. “You’re practically asleep on your feet.” He turned Vincent toward the bed. “Go.” He pushed.

Vincent stumbled toward the bed. He wanted to protest, for appearances sake at the very least, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was just too damned tired. The yawn came out of nowhere. He yanked back the sheets and crawled under them. He dropped his head on the pillows and turned to look back at Sephiroth.

The dark angel already had his leather pants on and was strapping on his tall boots.

Vincent frowned. He’s getting dressed? The small stab of disappointment caught him completely off guard. He squashed it hard, but it refused to die completely.

Sephiroth turned to face him while buckling the over-the-shoulder cross-straps to his long coat. He stilled staring at Vincent, then grinned. “Ah, you’re pouting! Shall I come to bed and comfort you?”

Vincent’s face burned. He flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling, and crossed his arms. “I am not pouting. I do not pout.”

Sephiroth strode for the bed, his chuckle sounding insufferably smug. “Oh, of course not.” He leaned over the bed, setting one hand on the mattress. “Sleep well.” He dropped a kiss on Vincent’s brow.

“Ah!” Vincent swatted at him. “Leave me in peace, you big pain in my ass!”

Sephiroth dodged away from Vincent’s hand and laughed. “But I like being a pain in your ass.” His voice lowered to a deep bass rumble. “It feels so good.”

“Bastard!” Vincent grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Sephiroth caught the pillow and tossed it back with a smile. “Go to sleep. Hopefully it will improve your temper!” He turned away and stepped through an archway. The sound of flapping wings was loud.  

Vincent flopped back on the pillows. Crap… He scrubbed his hands down his face. Crap, crap, crap… Gaia help him, he was actually starting to like the big bastard. Something ached in the region of his heart. He rolled over onto his stomach and sincerely hoped the ache would go away. He was already in enough of a mess for merely liking the world’s greatest calamity. He couldn’t afford for the feelings to go any deeper.

He’d already had his heart ripped out once. He honestly didn’t think he could handle it a second time.

-VV-

Vincent felt something big and warm shift against his right side. There was a weight pressing on his belly too. He opened his eyes to deep green shadows, not that it mattered to his night-seeing eyes.

Sephiroth was lying on his belly against Vincent’s side facing away. The weight was his arm draped over Vincent’s hips. His wings were outspread covering the whole bed like a strange sort of blanket. His breathing was slow and even. Apparently he was asleep.

Vincent scooted back and sat up among the pillows. Beyond the curtains, green light shimmered. Obviously it was the life-stream flow the island passed through at night, but there was also a soft hissing noise. The smell of fresh water was very strong. Vincent frowned. Was it raining? He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Considering all the plant life, he supposed rain had to happen sometime.

Vincent stared down at the sleeping man next to him. It was so odd…a ghost that slept. And had sex. Vincent felt his cheeks heat. He raised his knees, folded his arms over top of them, and set his chin on his folded arms. “What the hell am I supposed to do about you?”

Sephiroth took a deep breath, but otherwise, didn’t move. “You find me a new body and we continue as we are.”

Vincent started. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Too late now. He sighed. “And what exactly are we?”

Sephiroth turned his head toward Vincent and smiled. “I would think that was obvious, we’re lovers.”

Vincent stared, completely unable to stop the way his heart thumped, or the painful ache that came with it. His hands clenched on his knees. “Are you saying that we’re fuck-buddies, or are you saying that you actually love me?” Horror overcame him. What the fuck did I just say? He turned away. “Never mind.” He shook his head. “Just forget it.”

Sephiroth lunged over Vincent knocking him down among the pillows. He rose up on his hands, framing Vincent with his arms. His long silver hair spilled over them in a curtain of frost. He bared his teeth. “We’re not fuck-buddies.”

Vincent snorted. “Oh, that clears everything up.”

The dark angel’s cheeks pinked. “I…” He swallowed and bit down on his bottom lip. He looked down at Vincent’s chest. “I have been fascinated with you since childhood, from the time I saw you in that tank across from mine. And then, when I saw you as an adult, you were so fucking sexy…” His gaze drifted over Vincent. “All that midnight hair, those crimson eyes, the way you move in battle…” He focused on Vincent’s gaze. “I wanted nothing more than to get my hands on you and bury myself in your body.” His arrogant smile appeared, then melted into something far less, assured. “I took you because for the first time, I had the opportunity to do so.”

Vincent stared. What the hell was this? “I thought you wanted me to…?”

“Yes, yes…” Sephiroth rolled his eyes. “I do need you to find me a body, but that wasn’t why I took you.” His smile flashed briefly then disappeared. “I took you because I’ve had a hard-on for you for a very long time.”

Vincent raised his brow. “Sounds like a simple case of lust to me.”

Sephiroth nodded. “That’s what I thought too, but then…” He glanced away and scowled. “When you very nearly went off the edge of the island…?” He shook his head. “I thought… I felt…” He took a deep breath. “I just couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt.” He winced and his cheeks flushed hot pink. He looked directly at Vincent and smiled crookedly. “Yeah, I think I’m actually in love you.”

Vincent stared up at him from the pillows and felt the word turn upside down. He loves me? It was a full three breaths before his brain would function. “You may not be the man who wanted to kill the world, but you are insane, you know that?”

Sephiroth snorted. “The evidence is rather overwhelming.” He lifted his brow. “So, how do you feel about me?”

Vincent opened his mouth, and couldn’t think of a thing to say. “I, uh…”

Sephiroth’s gaze narrowed. “Do you hate me?”

Vincent dodged his gaze. “I….” He closed his eyes. “No, I don’t hate you.”

“Good enough for me.”

Vincent opened his eyes and looked up at Sephiroth. “Huh?”

Sephiroth dropped his mouth onto Vincent’s and proceeded to kiss him as though starved. His hand slid under Vincent’s head, tangling in Vincent’s long hair to hold their mouths together. His arm closed around Vincent’s waist, holding him belly to belly. Sephiroth was violently hard.

So was Vincent. He wasn’t sure what had triggered it, but he was fully, and painfully erect. A groan slid out of his throat. He closed his arms around the dark angel’s shoulders and parried the tongue tangling so skillfully with his. His knees spread, making room between them. He didn’t think about what he was doing. He didn’t want to think about what he was doing. He didn’t want to think about anything at all.

Sephiroth groaned and slid between Vincent’s thighs. He sat back on his knees, spreading Vincent wide. His nipples were very pink, and erect. He gazed down at Vincent, but didn’t say anything.

Vincent didn’t want him to say anything. He pushed up on his hands, sitting up practically in Sephiroth’s lap, and pressed his mouth to the tight nipple before him. Against Vincent’s lips, Sephiroth’s heart pounded. A ghost with a heartbeat… He looped an arm around the dark angel’s waist, holding him while he stroked the pale tight nub with his tongue. He closed his flat front teeth on the nipple and tugged lightly.

Sephiroth groaned, cupped his hand behind Vincent’s head, and threw his head back, tossing all that silver hair. “Yes…!”

~ * ~