Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
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His breath came to him suddenly and he woke gasping for breath too cold for his lungs as he scrambled to find his bearings. There was an overcast sky. Beyond it, mountainous ridges and steep rocky cliff-sides. The wind howled a terrible melody, and as he sat upright, half buried in sleet that was already icing over, he was met with a sensation he had rarely felt before, if ever.
Sephiroth had no idea what was going on.
He rose quickly to his feet, brushing off the snow the best he could when his gloves were encrusted with it. He’d been unconscious. He’d been left alone. His temple pounded as he shifted his balance, and he staggered forward, grabbing at his head and wincing as he struggled to stay upright. There was no one here, no enemies taking him hostage, no allies attempting a rescue. Simply the mountain and the screaming wind.
But where was he? He wracked his mind for answers but came up short. There were only a few places in all of Gaia with snow like this. The Icicle Inn, the Great Glacier, and…
Nibelheim. The name came to him in a spark of clarity shrouded in fog. Yes, there was snow at Mt. Nibel, but why could he invision it so clearly? His neck prickled with unease. He had never been to Nibelheim. It must have only been his imagination.
He found his sword a few feet away, half buried in the snow. He picked it up, brushing it clean until the blade glinted with sunlight. How long had he been unconscious? Long enough to nearly lose his sword to the mountain, it seemed, and the thought set him on edge. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or the mission that had led to it. Why had he been on his own, and to what end?
There were no answers to be found.
Above him, something shifted and sent a scattering of snow falling at his feet. He looked up to see furry bodies gathering at the cliff’s edge, fangs bared in a feral snarl. There were six of them by his estimation. Nothing but wolves. He was laughing now, shoulders shaking as his hand passed over his face. ”You’re going to attack me?” He smirked through the leather of his glove. They wouldn’t understand him of course -- monsters never did -- but the thought was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help himself. The mockery came unbidden.
”Do your best.” He straightened, sword held loosely in his hand, and he saw them leap from above as though in slow motion. Two sweeps of his sword and they were dead, mutilated together and breathing their last pained whines into the snow. They hadn’t even had the time to land before him.
The wind continued its solitary howl. There was no use considering the “if”s, the “why”s, or the “how”s. There was only one direction to move -- forward -- and he intended to lose no time in his descent.
The answers would come in time, he thought. But first, he needed to find his way off this mountain.
Provo had been where she'd woken up so many months ago, so Provo had been where she picked up bounties for a decent while before she'd found Yeul, selling her dagger to those that needed it. It was hard starting out. She had earned her fair share of chuckles, boos, and jeers when slamming down a Notice paper on the nearest barkeeper's counter to claim it for her own. After the first head she brought in however, with her dagger lodged deep into the beast's eye, work had been much more conveniently found. Imagine that. So, she'd returned to the occasional hunt to make sure the two could stay afloat with providing food and shelter. It wasn't just herself she had to look after now.
This young basilisk spotted near Hotan in particular was going to fetch a wonderful price to feed the kid and her for some time. So she'd made it a nice, cozy nest with all sorts of yummy goodies on the roof of a dilapidated farmer's shack a couple miles upwards of its usual hunting grounds. It'd been eating cattle, disturbing wildlife, and had nearly killed a patrol officer - or so the Notice said. The shack had been mostly empty besides a few bales of hay and a couple tools hanging on the wall. Perfect to trap the monster inside once she pulled down the roof.
Crowe sat herself up in a tree nearby the dirt path leading to the shack; above the monster's new nest. The snowstorm had come a tad early, but she'd brought extra layers in preparation and bundled tight against the bark behind her to wait for the beast. Once it was there.. she'd pull the rope in her hand that lead through the hay drop window at the top of the shed's wall and connected to the rickety, sabotaged beam holding the roof up. The aerosol, small bomb of sleeping smoke in her pack would do the rest. "And now we play the waiting game." The wind howled and she crossed her arms, huffing with agitation more than discomfort. Tenebrae had snowed often in the winter months. Heavily. Violently, and then peaceful come sunrise. Thinking about it now was just a distraction and one that she'd do plenty well without. How stupid...
She supposed the winter had its pros. Definitely less cons. While her fingers fidgeted with the loose frays of the rope in her gloved hands, she started thinking subconsciously about what season might actually be her favorite. Not Spring... too windy and the weather changed too often. Though she did like the rain, so maybe Fall? Summer was a mess. The beating sun drove her mad. Winter wasn't so bad if you had the patience for it. After all, unlike summer, you could always put more layers on- was that a yelp?
Leaving the end of the rope secured to a knot on the tree, Crowe had made her way down the trunk and already towards the cliff edge that lead further down slope. She moved quietly, patiently, and made sure to keep her distance for now until she could catch any sight of the incident. Well, it wasn't exactly hard to see him... Standing in the white of the snow was a black-clad figure with shining pauldrons. Red stained the ground around him along with two bodies of hungered wolves. Another hunter. Her eyes thinned and she made a soundless reach behind her belt before she pulled the knife and flung with an expertly timed flick of the wrist. It landed between his feet - stabbed into the crunchy snow. She'd make sure to keep the space between them and let him know that this was her aiming comfort zone. "Turn around and back off. The basilisk is my hunt," she called over, standing from her crouched position higher up the cliff.
The snow crunched behind him. Footsteps. Sephiroth smirked without turning around. So his answers had decided to come to him.
There was the flick of metal, the whistle of wind, and something crunched in the snow between his feet. This stranger had thrown a knife at him. He almost wanted to laugh again.
”Turn around and back off. The basilisk is my hunt.” The voice belonged to a woman, perhaps one of the locals of the mountain? Regardless, if all she had to offer was a knife then she wasn’t worth his time. Not for more than a few questions at least.
”That’s what this is about?” Sephiroth smirked and turned to face her. She was the very picture of a civilian roughing it in through the mountains. Her hair was held in a messy bun, her clothes were worn, practical, and layered. She wore fingerless leather gloves and had the distinct demeanor of a woman too down to earth to care for more than meager money and whatever work she could use to get it.
In short, she seemed simple. Sephiroth considered her thoughtfully. ”You can have your basilisk,” he said, bending to pick up her knife. ”Though your aim could use work.” He walked towards her, offering the hilt of the blade back to her. ”If you intend to intimidate, you should throw it nearer the head. Most will surrender even if you’re lightly armed.”
And indeed she was, at least as far as he could tell. She registered as less than a threat to him. Her overconfidence made her a clumsy nuisance at best. His expression cleared. It was the time for nothing but utmost professionalism. If he’d lost consciousness during a mission, there could be nothing else.
”Where is this? The mountain.” He took a few steps towards the cliff-side as he considered it. What an odd view, frosted in snow and howling wind. It looked so familiar. Painfully familiar.
”I’ll need a guide down, or at least a direction.” He turned and looked at her pointedly but didn’t make the suggestion. His identity would speak for itself, and if it didn’t then his sword would. She’d be compensated generously by Shinra once they found the nearest town, he was sure. And if not, then he would get what he needed and leave.
"That's what this is about?" Already his tone and the way he turned around to smirk at her turned her stomach and gave a disgusted unpleasant lift to one side of her mouth. Yeah, she wasn't his biggest fan. His turning also made his weapon visible, a ridiculously and incredibly lengthy sword that she couldn't possibly see being tactfully useful in its size. It definitely did its job of raising her eyebrows in notice for a moment as he neared and extended the small knife back to her; one of many that she carried about her person - her iconic short sword remaining strapped tightly to the side of her thigh.
Alright... so he wasn't here for the hunt. Her face turned into something skeptically curious as she reached for the blade and took it back by the handle while he attempted his offer at "advice". She was dumbfounded, really. After a blink, all she could do was lean her hip back with shifted weight, free hand propped on it side, and give him an up-and-down look before finally responding with a single, blunt, "Hah." Without so much as a reminding look, she raised the knife in her hand back between her thumb and the side of her index finger before giving it a quick fling past him - eyes still looking up to him as the *thunk* confirmed its swift penetration. Right in the center of a dead wolf's eye. She couldn't do a lot, but damn it all she was a dead-shot with small blades. "Yeah, my aim's fine. Thanks."
She gave him a heavy roll of her eyes as she stepped forward and around him to go and retrieve her blade a handful of yards away. That was when his strange question had her realizing during the last few steps that this wasn't some native. He was an Otherworlder. Like her. Like a handful of others recently in this place, it seemed. "Northern Pass of Mount Hotan," her voice called back to him, kneeling down into the crunching snow to a knee to pull the knife free from the dog. It'd make good meat... maybe she'd take the time to skin it and set some over the fire if the Basilisk didn't show for the duration of the day now that this leathery arrogant ninja had totally disrupted the peace in the area.
"Oh for the love-," a scoff flew out of her blatantly from the 'not-so-subtle' request that wasn't actually a request. "You can go ahead and give that up," with a grunt, she stood with a clean-cut leg of the wolf propped on her shoulder to face him. Entitled idiot. "Going to take a wild guess and say you've got no idea how the hell you got in the snow? Hm? Probably in for a rude awakening. Not going to make any friends or get anywhere acting like you own the place. Way down's that way, blocked from an avalanche on that side, though. Gotta go around," she'd tilted her head lazily off to a side to motion towards where the blocked beaten path was located. "Welcome to Zephon, outsider," with a humorless smirk, she'd walked close enough to give the metal on his shoulder a pat or two before continuing by him towards the shed further up the range.
Turns out I'm going more the memory loss route. Huh.
I knew mine was a special existence
She laughed at his advice and threw the knife again -- this time directly into the eye of one of the dead wolves. "Yeah, my aim's fine. Thanks," she said curtly. Then her mistake had not stemmed from lack of ability -- but rather, lack of judgment. Had she been one of his soldiers, he would have lectured her on her choices for some time, but she was nothing but a brash and overconfident civilian. It didn’t seem she took kindly to constructive criticism.
She drifted past him, kneeling by the dead wolf as she yanked the blade from its flesh. She didn’t turn to face him as she answered, ”Northern Pass of Mount Hotan.” Sephiroth’s eyebrows raised.
He’d never heard of such a place, not in his briefings nor his missions nor even on the maps he’d studied for tactical advantage. It must have been a purposeful misdirection. After all, how would a whole mountain go by unnoticed?
While he was in thought, she’d taken to dismembering the wolves with her hunting knives. Sephiroth had seen that kind of behavior from civilians, but it was still foreign to him, the idea of monsters as anything but obstacles with which to prove himself. He watched her coolly, taken aback by her exclamations and suggestion that he “give that up,” whatever that meant. His patience was starting to fray.
When she stood to face him, she had the wolf’s entire leg in her hand. Sephiroth eyed it distastefully.
"Going to take a wild guess and say you've got no idea how the hell you got in the snow? Hm?” Sephiroth blinked in surprise before his cool look returned. Was she part of the reason his mission had failed so spectacularly? She went on to chastise his attitude, not a new concept, particularly from enemies. Her insults glanced off him like sword blows to the thickest of armor.
”Way down's that way, blocked from an avalanche on that side, though. Gotta go around.” At least she wasn’t useless, but it was her next comment that unsettled him. Zephon? Was that some kind of insurgent group, or maybe a sect of the mountain he’d never heard of? Either way, it seethed with foreboding. No matter how he spun it, he could take it as nothing less than a threat.
A useless one. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and started in the direction she’d indicated. ”Your information’s appreciated,” he said though he was almost certain that he would be walking into an ambush. Maybe the next insurgents would give him better information, at least when held at sword point.
There was no point in wasting any more time with a brash mountain woman.
Above them echoed a deep and echoing roar. Sephiroth paused, sword at his side as he considered the sound. Whatever it was, it was big with a cry like that. There was a crack of broken ice as the creature landed above them. Finally, Sephiroth tilted his head to consider it.
A dragon stood before them, fully plated in thick scales, fangs bared liked deadly blades. It perched on the uppermost cliffs, wings still half-spread. The wolves. It must have been hunting them. Sephiroth squared off against it, sword at the ready. A dragon was more worth his time than the wolves had been, but not by much. He smirked at it.
It was on them in an instant, airborne and surprisingly agile as it was. It swooped down upon the woman, and Sephiroth shot forward, grabbing her under the arms and dodging back in one movement, thrusting her behind him. The dragon’s claws grabbed nothing but empty air as it swooped back into the sky, eyeing them in frustration before it landed, roaring again as it charged towards them.
Sephiroth readied his sword at his shoulder and was on the beast in an instant, slashing almost quicker than the eye could follow -- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven times before delivering the eighth and final blow with almost his full strength. It sent the dragon flying back nearly four feet through the air, slamming into the cliff with a thump that sent the ground trembling beneath them.
The mountain rumbled. The ground rocked hard beneath them and then there was a roar far above them louder than any dragon. Sephiroth froze before slowly looking up. The snow was shifting. An avalanche. For a moment, Sephiroth was breathless before it, but then the adrenaline kicked in sharp and hot. He couldn’t outrun it, he couldn’t stop it with magic or his sword. And still, a tidal of snow bore down upon them at eighty miles per hour, reaching closer every minute and rocking the ground like an earthquake.
As its shadow bore over him, Sephiroth dove towards the woman in a moment of pure instinct, taking her into his arms as something slithered across his back. He threw himself into the air without thinking (perhaps to jump over the snow?) and then watched the wave hit, watched it crash into the space they'd just left as the dragon was buried beneath its weight, swept along by the current that crushed it. He watched it all from a vantage point over thirty feet in the air.
And then a realization throbbed through the rush of adrenaline. He was flying.
”What?” Sephiroth nearly dropped the woman in shock, but there he was. Hovering far above the ground without any sign of descent. Sephiroth opened his mouth and then closed it as a swell of nausea rose to his throat. What was this? How was he-? His stomach twisted with vertigo.
What had they done to him?
As the snow settled, Sephiroth descended as naturally as breathing. His breath was staggered, his hands trembling. Again and again, the thought echoed back to him -- What had they done to him? What had they-? -- as he stared into his hands, shaken by his own power. He’d done it without thinking, acting on a moment of pure instinct.
But who had done this to him and why? He had no answers.
”I don’t understand.” His voice came oddly blank for the panic that hammered in his chest. He felt the same odd sensation on his back as before and glanced towards it, freezing as black colored his vision. Feathers. He felt himself go pale, felt that nausea rise again, and he staggered away from it, eyes wide as the mass followed him.
He had a wing. How had he-? When had he-?
Sephiroth swallowed hard. Whatever had left him unconscious in the mountains must have tampered with him in some way. Hojo? It wouldn’t have surprised him, but did that mean he’d been deemed a failure? That he’d simply been left in the mountains to die? The thought twisted his stomach like nothing else had and he felt heat rise to his cheeks as he passed a hand over his face, breathing slowly.
”What is this?” he asked to no one in particular. The mountain offered him nothing in return.
"Sure thing," her hand waved lazily at her side with her back still too him as he offered his reluctant thanks, stepping up a larger slope with a sturdy rock shelf beneath it to continue her journey upward the mountainside. The wind whipped harshly over the pass, howling, and she tucked her face down into the scarf around her neck to keep the icy snow that often caught into the air from stinging her face. Another howl, another step up, but the howl had stopped and something much deeper had echoed after it ended.
Crowe froze mid-stride and remained that way for a moment before looking quickly back to the leathered Otherworlder. He was looking for a source too. A sensation of dread began to rumble in her gut. "...Well, that's not good," the words brushed the fabric of the scarf under her breath. Her eyes went searching up the mountain and it wasn't long before the enormous beast confirmed the source of yet another ravenous roar. Her eyes were wide, but focused, and she felt a surprising lack of of fear despite the anxiety in her muscles to remain accurate and ready.
It wasn't courage. Courage only belonged to those who feared death. The warrior had the same idea, they were both 'fight' over 'flight', and the dazzlingly intricate short sword on the back of her waist pulled free from its sheath with a practiced twirl. She hadn't fought anything this vicious without her magic... Then again, she hadn't fought a cockatrice, a treant, or a behemoth without it either until waking here. She proved to herself more able than she first thought. Maybe she'd surprise herself here as well - but a mocking laughter from herself in the back of her head made fun of her wishful thinking. "Base of the neck," she called over to him, flicking the short sword the opposite way in her grip, "that and the belly. Have to be the softest spots."
It didn't matter. The second she spoke her last word its head ripped around and it leapt to the air again for a dive her way. She would've cursed but there was no time to. Her legs bent to roll out of the way, but she was pushed much further and grabbed onto, yanking this way and that until finally ending up on her back in the snow after being thrown from much-quicker-than-expected man. She didn't know whether to be offended or thankful, so she settled for neither to save time and hopped back up onto her feet. Her free hand pulled her hunting knife from her hip and threw it over her shoulder into the side of its neck. It stuck, but hardly got deep enough to do anything other than anger it. Then a flash of singing metal against the scales of the dragon lit the space between then.
At first, Crowe had to cross her arms before her face from the length of the blade and its shining strikes, but halfway through had lowered them with a realization. "Don't shake the-!!!" the bloodied beast flew back into a large, flat rock wall with a heavy *THUD* and groaned, shaking its massive head and slowly regaining its footing. But she wasn't looking at it anymore. She was too pre-occupied staring at the impending, white doom that came for them so silently from the top of the peak and grew louder, faster, every passing second. "-mountain..." Her lips hung open and she was only three large leaps down the hill through the snow before she felt herself pulled yet again. A heavy grunt yanked the sword away from anywhere it'd hurt either of them, balancing herself against the sturdy figure as much as she could and distributing her weight in a safer angle to try and assist.
Her eyes had shut hard, body clenching and face tucking down to prepare for the hit as she felt the tiny shards of disturbed ice beginning to pelt angrily against them. But then the rush of air past them, continuing downwards, and she opened her eyes to wonder on their escape. The snow was below them - the pair hanging in the air - and her head turned against his chest to see the wing stretched into the sky. Well, that was convenient. As they descended, she began a low chuckle that remained the only sound besides the wind in the now-quiet smooth side of the cliff. Dragon-less. It grew louder as her boots crunched into the snow and found solid ground again, stepping away from him with her sword still in-hand and looking for any sign of the creature. She found none.
When she whipped around to address him with a rather excitable expression, she was confused to see him grumbling and horrified. "What's what?" The mercenary stepped closer to him, the short sword clicking back into place in the sheath below the small of her back. "You're an insane bastard," a grin stretched across her face while shaking her head, catching her heavy breath and pushing a hand against his chest. She hated admitting it, but he'd pulled one hell of a stunt to get them out. The least she could do was offer her name, dipping her chin.. "Crowe." His flight would do him no good with this wind to get down the mountain, though. Which meant roughing it.
"Couldn't have made the blocked way down any worse. I'd bet it's six feet under if we headed there now," her head tilted back to motion behind her. The shed was surely destroyed also. "And that was dinner," a shrug of her shoulders was all she gave energy to the mourning of the wolf's meat, "so we should get going." There was no waiting, she patted herself to check for important missing belongings or loose items and turned to begin her march down. No other footsteps followed behind her. With creased brows, she rotated back around to look over her shoulder at the frozen man. "Hey, Outsider," her arms lifted at her sides momentarily, "there's nothing left here."
The woman’s voice came as though through water. He heard the sounds, caught a few words, but they were faded and muffled in static. The woman’s name was Crowe. She suggested they leave the mountain. These ideas faced him in blunt, irrelevant echoes. He tried hard to control his breathing through the fingers of the glove still touching at his forehead.
This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
”Hey, Outsider! There’s nothing left here.” The woman’s call shook him, and Sephiroth looked up despite himself. The woman stood there, watching him expectantly over her shoulder some ten feet away. It looked as though she’d already started walking off. She wanted him to follow.
Sephiroth took a long, shuddering breath and lowered his hand to his side. No matter what had happened (or what he was) he didn’t intend to die on the ice-laden cliffs of an unfamiliar mountainside. It seemed the woman would be useful in her survival skills and knowledge of the area. Her weakness, it seemed, was in advanced combat which he would more than make up for. Together, he had no doubts that they would find themselves safely back to the mountain’s base.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the sensation of bitter wind ruffling between the roots of the feathers (his feathers) covering the extraneous limb attached to his back. He swallowed back his nausea and attempted to control the thing, consciously stretching it and then folding it inwards. It felt wrong. So terribly wrong, and yet somehow natural as though he had once grown accustomed to it and had since forgotten. After a moment, he finally brought it flat through the slit that he only now realized had been hemmed neatly into his coat.
Someone had tailored it specifically to accommodate him. But who? And why?
He forced the distress from his eyes and turned towards the woman, nodding shortly as he approached. Once he’d reached her, he stopped and gave her a level look. ”You have more experience in this field than I do. I suggest you take the lead.” The words came out even and professional. That was something he could still manage. Even in the worst times of crisis, he would never lose this level head.
He started ahead in the direction she’d already chosen. He didn’t want conversation and he didn’t want to wait on her to take action. He needed to walk. He needed to feel his boots crunching against densely packed snow. He needed the sensation of motion to keep his mind at bay, to force his professional instinct to the forefront so his less controlled thoughts wouldn’t take hold.
There was no room for weakness. No time for emotions that threatened to rise unbidden. For now, there was only a single direction -- ahead. And he would take it without hesitation.
He was just staring back at her. Was he really so shocked at the fact that he'd created an avalanche after knowingly angering a mountain? How was that more surprising than the dragon that'd popped out of the damned snow that he so casually confronted? "Listen, if you want to stand here and wait in the cold, don't expect company," she spoke - not shouted - but she figured it'd still be loud enough for him to hear. Instead he was just stretching his arm. Maybe he'd hurt it? "You okay there, big guy?" Her eyebrow lifted and her hip tilted to one side as her weight adjusted, letting a hand rest on it with minor annoyance. "Ooookayyyy..." a mumble to herself, Crowe turned back around to continue the path down again but stopped to look over her shoulder at the sound of shuffling powder behind her.
"You have more experience in this field than I do. I suggest you take the lead." Unable to stop it, an immediate scoff followed. Yeah, that was pretty damn obvious and had gone without saying - at least as far as she was concerned. Not keen on standing still or burning any more daylight, the woman situated the tightness of her jacket and gloves while simultaneously taking large treks through the deep snow that occasionally sunk instead of kept its solidity. He kept up good enough which had her at least thankful that she wouldn't have to debate against herself for whether or not she'd feel guilty if she left him behind for slowing her down.
Only once did the traveler stop, looking to the wide new stretch of steep land before them. There should've been a handful of shrubs here. Taken out by the avalanche no doubt. Past it would've been the blockade of landfall which now seemed flat white. They'd have to be careful of invisible sinkholes beneath them... who knew what the snow packed over and what it was just barely hiding.
"Watch your footing," she noted with a shout over a brief gust of wind, taking much slower and more thoughtful steps during the attempt to gauge their distance and positioning. It was difficult to try and imagine what/where was beneath them. After a bit of successful distance traveled, she looked back to check on how the weird, leathery bird-man was getting along. "So just the one wing? Not, y'know, two like every other creature that flies?" Her arms held out slightly to keep her balance, still taking steps gingerly down the steeper, pure white slope. "How does that even help?"
The snow crunched under his boots. He kept his head tilted down against the wind, focused more on his footing than navigation. His guide would handle that. At the moment, he was nothing more than his sword, nothing more than a lost soldier in foreign territory. What could he do but follow?
Images echoed through his subconscious as he trudged forward. Genesis, pale and despairing on what they feared to be his deathbed. Angeal, unbalanced and trembling from both blood loss and exhaustion. Angeal had slept in the hospital waiting room with his arms crossed and his chin down, taking a break to eat or shower only when Sephiroth took over his lonely vigil. Sephiroth turned his head to an overcast sky. How would Angeal manage once he learned that Sephiroth had gone missing? He doubted the blow would come as sharp as it had for Genesis. They were, as Angeal had said, as close as brothers. Sephiroth could never have hoped to rival their bond.
The woman stopped and Sephiroth followed suit. In front of them, the snow expanded in a level field of white. Sephiroth frowned. There were no markers here and no landmarks to guide them. For the first time, he wondered if their descent from the mountain would go awry. He glanced at her for guidance. ”Watch your footing,” was all she had to say before starting forward. Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed. Nothing but obvious advice.
He followed her, careful to stay light on his feet. He could feel where the slight inconsistencies in the snow, where it shifted slightly looser than it should have, where his boot sank so much as a centimeter lower. He hadn’t needed her warning, but chose to keep his opinions to himself. It wasn’t professional to so harshly criticize those with skills he lacked.
After some time, the woman glanced at him over her shoulder. ”So just the one wing?”
Sephiroth tensed. He did not need the reminder. She mocked his asymmetry, and his stomach rolled with the nausea that he swallowed back once again. ”How does that even help?” she asked, and he felt his eyes go cool. He would not be berated. His thoughts were hard enough to stifle as it was.
”It’s a new development.” His was voice was colder than the ice they shattered underfoot. He straightened and looked past her, letting his silence speak louder than he ever could. In truth, he didn’t know the answer. In that moment, he hadn’t flown so much as he’d risen and then hovered until he’d willed his descent. He doubted that the wing had anything to do with it, but perhaps it was a matter of visualization. He’d unfurled it on instinct, afterall. But where had that instinct come from?
Sephiroth’s lips tightened. This was not the time to think.
”You should keep your eyes ahead,” He shot her with a cool gaze and started past her. With no path, her guidance wouldn’t do much good until they found some manner of landmark again. He kept his pace brisk even as he remained cautious in his step. There was nothing more to say.
As they approached the edge of the snow field, horizon shifted -- no longer mountainous, but looking down upon plateaus, villages, and roads. He breathed a sigh of relief even as the sight strengthened his unease. He had never seen this place before.
”We’ve found the path,” he said without turning to his guide. ”Your guidance was appreciated.” He didn’t mention her intrusive questions, and he hoped that she would do the same. ”I can manage from here.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. Crowe, she had said her name was. He nodded his thanks. Perhaps their paths would cross again. If they did, he would take both her skill and sharp wit into consideration. The journey could have certainly been worse. ”It's Sephiroth,” he said, ”In case we ever meet again.” He started down the path before she could answer.
