#touching any of our usual comfort media is making us physically recoil

[nexus-nebulae]

its a special kind of torture when all you need is a distraction for a while but everything that worked before has stopped

[meteorstricken]

Sephiroth Week, Day 3 Prompt: Uniforms

“Tactile”

"Demon," President Shinra announced incredulously, slapping the Wutaian-language news publication down onto his desk. He settled into his chair holding an unlit cigar between his teeth. "This is a smearing portrayal of a valuable company asset."

Tseng stood at attention on the opposite side. Heideggar had reclined into a chair, resisting the urge to guffaw at the headlines, which read in full, "Shinra Boy-Demon Slaughters Advance Crescent Platoon." Hojo leaned against the wall off to the group's right.

"The Turks will investigate the slums for the publishers and ensure a meaningful understanding is reached, Sir," Tseng offered.

"Acceptable first steps for mitigation," Shinra replied, "but this rag made it topside. It's probably spreading outside Midgar. We need rapid counter-programming, and I want to know if Avalanche is involved. Wutai was always going to have an adverse reaction to losing, but no one else should be questioning that Shinra is acting in their best interests."

"Gyahahah! That kid's a hero if you ask me," Heideggar said. "You know how many infantry I'd have had to send into the meat grinder without him? Those boys got to go home and kiss their mommas one more time. Hardly had to fire a shot thanks to Sephiroth."

Shinra lit his cigar and puffed out a few smoky rings. "Sephiroth, celebrated war hero. We can sell that. We'll publish our own account and promote fanfare. Adjust his age to sixteen for the official story, and make sure no one says any different. Set up scripted media interviews with the cadets who came home early. They were proud to serve, would have done whatever it took, but they're happy to be back. If there are any eyewitnesses, it's all glory, minimal carnage. Sephiroth's an unmatched prodigy and they want to be like him. Let's turn this debacle around into a recruiting boost."

"Yessir," Heideggar barked. "By the time my guys are done, we’ll have their girlfriends calling the wrong name at night."

"…Right. Professor, prep Sephiroth for a dress uniform photo-shoot tomorrow morning. One of my assistants will meet with him and the camera crew to determine designer uniform options. "

Hojo lightly cackled and pushed up his glasses. "Very well, but I may need to sedate him…Sephiroth's enhanced mako regimen has given rise to certain uncompromising tactile sensibilities."

Shinra shook his head. "Work around that. The public needs to meet a sharp, lucid face, not a specimen."

"Hm..suit yourself," Hojo replied.

--------------

Sephiroth had originally been scheduled for a battery of mental exercises this morning, but this photo-shoot had usurped it at the last minute. Attempting to sleep had become unpleasant after returning from Wutai, though he'd been reassured it was a common occurrence treatment would resolve. Shouldn't that take priority? Pictures were usually for the lab, but he'd only been offered a hurried explanation that this was supposed to mark his first war victory.

He frowned at the crisp, starched blue button up and matching jacket that hung in the dressing room with him. Unfamiliar medals and pins adorned the jacket's left breast, and its shoulders were inlaid with a circle of silver stars. This was not the military's standard issue uniform for anyone, even higher ranking officers. If a change was coming to their design, there were simulations and hired models. Why were these untested clothes necessary to convey his performance in the war?

The short, quick-spoken woman outside the door who'd introduced herself as President Shinra's assistant had instructed him to put the button up on over the low, v-cut white undershirt he normally wore from day to day, and to wear the jacket over that. It was too much. Layers were claustrophobic for him, and anything that sat too close to the front of his neck gave an impression of being strangled. He sat down on the bench and pressed himself into the corner, hesitating. The idea of being so covered, and in all the wrong spots, made the room feel smaller and hotter the more he considered it.

"Need help adjusting anything in there, kid?" the assistant asked after several long moments.

"No. I…these aren't suited for me," he responded, struggling to keep calm, hoping that excuse would suffice.

"Ah. Well, the President did say we might need to try a few things to make it work. Let's see…You know, let's cut the crap and just go for the prototype special ops one. It's functional, so you'll be literally dressed to kill!" she laughed.

Sephiroth didn't know what to say to that--he required only selective armor to battle effectively--so he waited in awkward silence as Shinra's assistant rummaged through boxes and plastic wrappings around assorted articles. First, a pair of black leather pants swooped over top of the door. Inspecting them, he felt that the inside was softer than the outside, and cool to the touch. A matching coat, a black turtleneck sweatshirt, and a set of pauldrons followed.

He clenched one hand at the sight of the turtleneck. It was obviously an outfit meant for missions under cover of darkness--an improvement from the dress blues in terms of what he was accustomed to--but the shirt made it impossible. He opened his mouth to protest again, and then shut it. Complaining over physical discomforts didn't have a history of aiding his situation, but he could attempt a compromise. He was able to negotiate his field uniform without too many questions in Wutai because of how he fought.

The pants, he found, were perfectly fitted and allowed for flexible motion--acceptable. That was once piece down he would wear. Shoving one arm into the coat, he quickly recoiled and pulled it back out again. It created an unwanted layer with his t-shirt along his back, giving him the sense that someone was pushing on him. Sephiroth let out an exasperated sigh, and pulled his shirt over his head, hanging it up on the door's hook with the turtleneck.

Trying the coat again, his nerves instantly settled. He'd have to work on moving with the long, draping material around his legs when he trained, but other than that, it felt right on his torso by itself. The collar was unusually high, but it left the front of his neck completely bare--inoffensive enough, and he could use the pauldrons to raise or flatten it as needed. He finished dressing and opened the door.

"We got a winner?" the assistant asked, turning around to face him. "Oh whoops, looks like you missed the shirt."

Sephiroth pouted. He'd missed absolutely nothing, and he'd continue not missing it.

"I…see. It doesn't look bad…Just...just let me check if this will work for the shoot." She left the room to make a call, but Sephiroth could still hear her-- "Sir? Yeah, mostly. Oh, is he? Oh. That would have been useful to know beforehand. We did find something he's comfortable with pretty quick--the ops set--but he's bare-chested aside from the harness. Go ahead? Alright." Hanging up, she added, "Your funeral, boss. Your funeral." She poked her head back in, "Grab your things, kid. No makeup for that baby face, but we'll have to do something about your hair before we get this over with."

"Will I be keeping these?" Sephiroth inquired.

"That's up to Shinra. If it plays well, count on it."