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.
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year 5, quarter 3
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It was quiet outside the city limits. He had taken to a clearing off the main road shaded by broad-leaved trees and lush underbrush. Despite the dusky hour, the birds had gone all but silent a quarter of an hour before. It smelled of rain.
That suited him fine.
Sephiroth took a long breath and cleared his mind. Like in meditation, the thoughts slipped away -- the recent clamor of screams, the smell of blood, the weight of raw magic. He let it go and focused instead only on that strange sense of vertigo that overwhelmed him every time that Genesis forced him into the skies. His wing twitched with the thought, but he kept it tightly pinned beneath his coat. This power was not Genesis’ and it wasn’t Shinra’s -- it was his and he would reclaim as his own.
His feet lifted from the ground.
He let them fall slack as he willed himself upwards -- one foot, two feet, three feet, four. For a long time, he kept his position and focused only on balance. The weight of his sword tilted him as though in deep water and he took a moment to right himself. He had mastered that feeling of weightlessness when propelled forward. He could land lightly on treetops far too high for any normal human (normal human -- his lips twitched at the thought), but he had only fought airborne once. The adrenaline had done it, and he could not accept that variable. There was nothing left but practice.
He started with his usual forms (unbalanced, slow, he’d hone them in time) before forcing himself higher. Five feet, six, seven, eight. His grip tightened on his sword. Before him awaited certain failure. Failure, alteration, and failure again. It was a pattern he hadn't suffered since he'd worn violet colors, and it was not one that he missed. Still, he knew better than to falter.
He propelled himself forward.
His movements were sluggish, clumsy, and apprehensive. He could not fly as quickly as he could run, and each step lacked his usual precision. His sword served only to unbalance him. Still, he swung it as he normally would -- slicing the top of a tree clearly in two before backpedaling as though to counter. Every turn drifted. He felt as though on ice. Still, he drove himself on. Eyes forward. Breathe in. Breathe-
Movement caught his eye. The road. Two civilians were gawking at him over the trees. His stomach twisted. And then he was falling.
He folded on impact and landed solidly on his knee. Just like he’d practiced. He grit his teeth against it and forced his hands steady. Why did he still feel nauseous? This was his power. No matter what Shinra had done to him, no matter the toll it had taken, no matter if he was no longer-
His jaw clenched into a sneer as he willed himself upright. He was still human.
”Am I failure to you?” He smirked unsteadily, touching at his temple. Shinra. He had promised Genesis that he would search for them, but why bother when he could simply draw them out? That was why he had chosen grounds so near the road. His spectators would talk, and that talk would draw attention. That was why had practiced here daily for nearly a week. If they were near then they would come.
And so he grounded his stance and readied his sword. He would continue for as long as it took -- either to master his new body or to exact his vengeance on those who had forced it upon him. Whichever came first.
Squall’s meeting with Noel had been good for him. Against his initial gut reaction that he should flee to somewhere less populated, he decided to stick around Torensten for the time being. If he was going to gather together a small force that could take on Ultimecia, then a city as big as this one would be a good place to find capable warriors. He’d heard that there was a mercenary guild in town that he planned to check out soon for potential aid (though he might have gone there even without the imminent threat of the sorceress), and then there was the mysterious silver-haired swordsman who had come to his rescue. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since they’d gotten separated by Ultimecia’s final attack, but Squall wanted to keep an eye out for the stranger. He’d certainly stand out in a crowd anyway between his hair and his single black wing.
Squall had finally managed to acquire some amount of this world’s gil by helping rebuild a couple houses around town (purely for the money of course--he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t because he felt guilty), and it was while he was wandering the marketplace to find something for dinner that he first heard the whispers.
“Out west?” “City limits.” “Floating. Unnatural.”
Floating? Something like ice dropped into Squall’s stomach, and though he’d had a hard day of labor, he was no longer hungry. Someone floating might have been unheard of to these people, but to him, it meant a sorceress was lurking outside of Torensten. Ultimecia? The possibility sent his mind racing. Why wouldn’t she come inside? Was she trying to lure him out so they weren’t interrupted again? If so, then her presence was clearly a threat. Come out before I destroy it again.
The thought sent Squall racing to the western exit. Judging by the startled faces on every street corner, he thought that he must have had a dangerous look on his face as he ran past, but he was far from caring. If she was threatening people for a fight, then he’d give it to her. He just wished that he’d had time to find Noel again first.
The gossip got more concrete the further west that he travelled, and after awkwardly questioning a stranger (which almost got his heart pounding more than the thought of the upcoming encounter), he had a pretty good idea of where to look for her.
After he’d traveled along the main road out of Torensten for a few minutes, it wasn’t hard to miss where the excitement was happening. A small group of people had gathered to stare at what was going on above the trees, and Squall felt his hand snatch at the hilt of his gunblade at the sight of long, silver hair. Except this person didn’t have horns. Frowning, Squall let go of his blade as the glint of the floating person’s own weapon caught his eye. He knew that abnormally long sword.
Squall strode forward into the clearing, pushing past a few tree branches on his way over to meet the floating man. Some of the gawking people urged him to stop, but he ignored their warnings, and they quickly went quiet anyway. They were probably too afraid to attract the man’s attention, which suited Squall just fine. He preferred private conversations.
As Squall stood beneath where the man appeared to be training, he raised one hand in the air a tad awkwardly to attract his attention, though he quickly lowered it when the sight of his bare hand reminded him that he still hadn’t replaced his bloody gloves.
"...Guess I never thanked you,” he called to the man as he looked up into his slit green eyes. It unnerved Squall a little, but from what he’d seen so far in Zephon, every world had their own definition of what was normal.
My god, Sephiroth, could you be more military? Genesis would slap you right now
I knew mine was a special existence
Footsteps.
Sephiroth stopped, not bothering to face them. He’d known that he had an audience. He’d known to expect interruption, and in fact, had been counting on it. The only question was motivation. Was it hostility? A challenge? Or mere curiosity? Sephiroth waited with his sword at his side.
The answer was not what he’d expected.
Sephiroth paused, head tilted slightly. Thanked him? He turned slowly, one eyebrow raised, and found a pair of dark eyes meeting his own. The boy who’d fought beside him. Sephiroth’s lips twitched into a smirk. He supposed that was a result one way or the other.
He willed himself lower. Landing had always come more naturally to him than rising, and he found his balance easily, touching lightly at the ground. He refused to acknowledge the rush of relief that met him as his usual weight fell into place. It felt natural. Practiced. Here he was in his element. The skies would come with practice.
”You survived.” It wasn’t relieved nor was it surprised -- merely a statement of fact. Her magic had taken countless casualties. He’d had no way of knowing whether the boy had been among them.
Sephiroth examined his sword without interest before sheathing it. It seemed his training would have to wait. Until he could break from conversation that was.
”You’ve trained well,” he said, and he meant it. There weren’t many who could prove their use to him in a fight. Only SOLDIERs, and only the first class at that. Had the boy’s eyes not said differently, he would have thought him one of them. ”The people of that city lived because of your actions. You should take pride in that.”
Sephiroth’s smirk twisted. Perhaps it was the boy’s age, but he felt himself naturally fit into his usual role. General and soldier. What did it matter to this boy what Sephiroth thought of him? Here, he meant nothing.
”Your name.” Sephiroth crossed his arms. He had the feeling this boy’s was worth knowing.
There was disinterest on the man’s face when he turned to face Squall, but then a spark of recognition settled into his eyes. His face became carefully schooled again as he descended towards the ground, and Squall decided that he had to admire the way that the silver-haired man’s expression gave away absolutely nothing that he was thinking. It was a little disorienting, since his teammates had tended to wear their emotions on their sleeves (and that was being generous). It would have felt a little like looking into the mirror back before he had met Rinoa if the man’s face hadn’t been so alien.
The man landed as lightly on his toes as if he hadn’t just been floating through the air before he approached Squall, his hair fanning out behind him.
“You’ve trained well.”
It wasn’t the sort of thing that Squall had expected to hear from anyone on this world. It was the sort of thing that Cid might have used to praise him when he was a kid and he’d run off to fight something in the Training Center that was above his age class.
(You’ve trained well.)
Purely on instinct, Squall’s boots clicked against each other as he brought his legs together and straightened his back when the man stopped in front of him. After a moment, he realized what he’d done, and embarrassment flooded him as he assumed a more natural stance. This man wasn’t Cid. Even if he was, Squall stood on his own legs now. He didn’t need the approval of anyone when he was one running SeeD.
“I’m not the only one,” he finally said, looking over the stranger’s sword a bit curiously. It looked like a type of katana, but it was long enough that it seemed like it would have been unwieldy in battle. He couldn’t argue the man’s skill with it though. He might have even been better than Squall was, and he’d never met anyone who could rival him with a sword before except maybe Seifer. And he’d more than proven himself against Seifer after his rival had chosen the wrong path.
“The people of that city lived because of your actions. You should take pride in that.”
Squall’s eyes drifted to the side, wondering how this man was able to stab at the core of his insecurities in so few words. Perhaps it was like looking into a mirror after all. “…No. They died because of me. They lived because of you.” Ultimecia had clearly already been in Torensten when he had arrived, and she appeared to have touched no one after all. It wasn’t until she had found Squall that she had decided to kill everyone around him. Until she was taken care of, he was putting every single person that he came across at risk.
(Your only point now is to suffer at my hands). (When I’m done with you, you will beg for death).
A tinge of pain in his palms informed him that his nails were cutting into his skin, and he quickly released the clenched fists that he hadn’t entirely been aware that he’d had. He badly needed a pair of new gloves. Aside from preventing his callouses from being rubbed raw on the gunblade hilt, it would protect him from ticks like that.
“…Squall.” Grateful for the subject change, he glanced back at the man, unnerved all over again by his slit pupils. “And you?”
The stranger was probably going to ask about Ultimecia, which was completely within his right after what he’d done to stop her. Squall didn’t even mind explaining necessarily, especially since he was hoping to make the man the third slot in his planned roster against her. Still, he felt like putting off the inevitable, so he gestured instead towards where the silver-haired man had descended from.
"I’ve never seen anyone who could fly before except her. But you’re not a sorceress.” Squall left the question of how he could do it unstated. If he didn’t take the hint, then that was fine. He didn’t owe Squall any sort of explanation, but his interest was peaked anyway.
(If I learned how to here, could I keep Rinoa company?)
Sephiroth knew that stance. He knew that respect and that discipline honed into him through years of training. The boy was more than a cadet perhaps (impressive at his age) but it was there all the same. No matter how he wilted or how he tried to pretend, that initial reaction didn’t lie. He had sensed his commanding officer, and he had acted on instinct. Sephiroth knew that instinct well.
Then the boy’s eyes dropped. Sephiroth knew that instinct better.
“…No. They died because of me. They lived because of you.”
Sephiroth said nothing. He had no need to, and he would let the soldier contemplate his thoughts in peace. He had seen it too many times -- from those he worked with, from those he relieved from duty, and from those returning from the front lines. ’They died because of me.’ It was a natural thought, and one that had haunted him since he first saw active duty at the age of twelve. That was the burden of blood.
He pretended not to notice how the boy’s eyes wavered or how his nails cut into the skin of his palms. Those too were natural. Instead he simply nodded in acknowledgement of the boy’s name. Squall. That was enough.
”Sephiroth,” he answered in kind. The boy waited nervously as though he expected something. Questions likely, but they were questions that Sephiroth would not ask. Not now, at least, when Squall's nerves seemed so on end. Instead, Sephiroth merely waited for the boy to choose the path of their conversation, and he did, gesturing vaguely at the sky.
”I’ve never seen anyone who could fly before except her. But you’re not a sorceress.”
”No.” That was his only answer. A single, expressionless ’no.’ He was not whatever the boy thought of him, and he was not willing to answer the question buried within his words like a landmine. 'What was he? How could he do it?'
No.
”You’re a soldier,” he said instead. It was obvious enough, and if Squall had a hint of perception, he would have noticed the obvious of Sephiroth as well. He turned to Squall and looked at him plainly.
”There were lives that you couldn’t save, but you held her in place. You enabled an evacuation by drawing attention to yourself.” Sephiroth smirked faintly. Squall had shown bravery he'd rarely seen. Even as they’d fought, the soldier had consistently distracted her at great personal risk. ”Their lives were in your hands -- those who died and those who lived. You made the right call.”
Sephiroth felt something like a tinge of respect. He turned before he could feel any more. Genesis would have slapped him at he seen them both now. He'd insisted that Sephiroth leave the military and all of its thinking behind, but that was itself unnatural. It was as much a part of him as his very name. In a strange way, Sephiroth felt comfortable.
”Will you fight her again?” That was all he needed to know, and the only question he needed to ask.
The man introduced himself as Sephiroth, which was a flowery name that rolled heavily off the tongue. But then everything about the silver-haired man’s appearance was so elaborate that Squall supposed it made sense that he’d have an equally intricate name.
Sephiroth similarly confirmed that he was no sorceress, which Squall hadn’t really needed any confirmation on. He might have had all the signs of a witch, but he was male for one, and for another, he didn’t appear to have come from Squall’s same world. There were no sorceresses in Zephon, which he knew on an intellectual level if not an instinctual one yet.
Sephiroth gave no signs that he was going to answer Squall’s unspoken question about what he was if not a sorceress, and the teenager wasn’t exactly going to press him any further on it. Still, the man seemed to have no problem with asking his own unspoken questions as he dropped the assumption that Squall was a soldier. Blinking slightly in surprise, Squall looked the man over for a second before shrugging and correcting his assumption slightly.
“I’m a SeeD. It’s a mercenary group.” He supposed that the distinction wouldn’t have mattered to most people, but he found it pretty distasteful to be compared to the Galbadian army. “I guess I’ve been the leader for a few months now. Or I was.” How was Balamb Garden managing without a Headmaster? Had any of the others managed to make it home so that they could take over? Or had Cid reclaimed his title once Squall had failed to return from the future? The thought made his throat feel tight, so he was happy to focus on something else when Sephiroth surprised him with some words of encouragement.
“You made the right call.”
If Squall had felt emotional before, that was nothing compared to now. An odd mixture of relief and protest filled him.
(You don’t understand. She only attacked Torensten because of me!)
The words rose to his lips and then faded again. He didn’t need to burden a stranger with his problems. “...Thanks,” he offered instead. The man’s heart was in the right place, and he could tell the logic behind Sephiroth’s words, even if he couldn’t quite internalize the message yet.
Sephiroth had turned away from him so that Squall was left facing a curtain of silver hair, and when he finally asked a question, it wasn’t the one that Squall had expected.
“Will you fight her again?”
Sephiroth didn’t know him yet, and the question showed that. Squall intended to show him that he wouldn’t need to ask that again.
“Until one of us dies,” he responded simply. “I’ve failed twice now. I won’t do it again.”
A bit hesitantly, he looked the man over before deciding that Sephiroth seemed to appreciate being bold and not wasting words as much as he did. Squall might as well get down to business with why he had sought the man out again in the first place.
“Her magic’s unbelievable, but she’s weak against groups,” he said before glancing at Sephiroth’s long sword a bit pointedly. “Not just anyone can get her to flee. I’ve never seen anyone use a sword like you before.”
I don't think Sephiroth knows how to not be professional
I knew mine was a special existence
A mercenary. Sephiroth considered the sky with an idle curiosity. He had known mercenaries on occasion, and he had never taken to them. They were course, unfocused, and lacked discipline. Worse than that, they were overconfident, and that carried with it a certain weakness that refused to listen to reason. It seemed uncharacteristic of Squall. He’d been forged by the military or something very closely like it. No matter how the boy corrected him, Sephiroth knew better than to listen. He trusted his instincts far stronger than Squall’s word.
He lacked confidence. Sephiroth knew talent, and he knew that Squall’s potential outweighed itself. Perhaps Sephiroth could help to unlock it. The thought gave him a kind of passing satisfaction. He wondered if Angeal had once felt this same appeal.
”Hm.” Sephiroth closed his eyes, smirking with a kind of deep satisfaction. Squall would not accept failure even at the cost of his life. What had started as only a seedling of respect had instantly blossomed into something stronger. Sword skills and intuition could only carry a soldier so far. In Squall, he saw something more resolute. It would do him well.
”No,” he said. He’d known already that he was peerless. ”I’ve trained my entire life with a sword. I was a general.”Was. It had a sickening ring to it, but it was true. Even if he should return, that life was over. He had no choice but to accept it.
”You’ll need a team,” he said. ”Your intuition is apt. She can’t track more than one target at a time.” He touched at the side of his head, smirking. The unspoken question hung between them carelessly.
”I expect to be briefed.” Sephiroth turned to him and met his eye with an odd air of amusement. Squall wasn’t a leader -- not yet -- but Sephiroth would treat him as one for now. In this situation, there was no chain of command.
Okay but I ship this friendship real hard if that's a thing.
I don't want to carry anyone's burden
A general. Squall’s eyes flickered over the silver-haired man in surprise, though he supposed that it made sense. He was clearly unmatched in sword skills, and while he seemed to hate unnecessary words even more than Squall did (if that was possible), he spoke with a quiet force that made what he did say carry weight. Squall could see why people would want to follow him into battle. Still, all the generals that he’d known usually stayed behind and strategized while other people did the fighting. He couldn’t imagine Rinoa’s father picking up a sword and leading the Galbadian army from the front lines, so Sephiroth had his respect for managing to do both.
“You’ll need a team.”
Squall nodded—a tad impatiently this time since he knew that better than anyone—but he responded anyway to give Sephiroth time to mull that over. “Where I’m from, it took six of us to beat her. I want at least that many, but we’re starting from scratch. I’m the only one who’s here.”
It hurt a little to admit that. He hadn’t visited every city on the planet yet—far from it—but Ultimecia hadn’t mentioned finding anyone else either, and she could cover a lot more ground than he could. If she had found and hurt any of his friends, Squall was bitterly positive that she would have thrown it in his face. It looked like it really was just the two of them trapped here in a deadly dance.
Squall had always hated dances.
Sephiroth had a slight smirk on his lips as the silence dangled, and Squall glared at him as he waited for the man’s answer. They both knew what Squall was asking. There was no need to make him beg for help out loud. After a moment, Sephiroth relented and put Squall out of his misery.
“I expect to be briefed.”
Squall’s shoulders relaxed in relief, though he hoped that the general didn’t notice. Having someone as talented as Sephiroth to face Ultimecia with him was a huge asset, and his lips twitched slightly at the thought of having to ‘brief’ him. Honestly, he liked that phrasing more than he thought he would. Explaining his entire history with the Sorceress was a gargantuan task. Squall stiffened a little at even the thought of how personal it would be to share what had happened. But a briefing. That he could do. That made it feel like just another mission, and he’d never minded talking as much when it was for a mission.
“Lead the way then,” he said, fixing his fur cuffs as Sephiroth suggested that they take the discussion back to his apartment. “Preferably on foot. I don’t have your method of transportation.” To say the least, but Sephiroth hadn’t seemed to like the previous reference to his flight ability, so Squall left it at that.
As he started to leave the clearing, Squall hesitated with one hand on a tree branch before he reluctantly turned back towards Sephiroth. “...There was something she said to me.” He hated himself for even asking this. It made him feel like a kid again—like he was desperately seeking reassurance from an older kid at the orphanage—but he couldn’t stop himself. “She said that she made this world just to watch me struggle in it.”Like a bug suffering in a jar. Squall’s eyes darted to the side and then back to Sephiroth. “I guess you’d tell me that wasn’t true even if it was.”
He left the rest of what he wanted unspoken. Tell me anyway. Please.
And scene unless you want to write with yourself how Genesis reacted lol
I knew mine was a special existence
Squall accepted. He’d known he would. Hadn’t Squall said it himself? ’They lived because of you.’ Squall wasn’t stupid, and they’d worked together already. If he wanted to neutralize this woman then he would take whatever assets he could manage.
Sephiroth closed his eyes, smirking. Lead the way on foot? He wasn’t Genesis, and he had no intention of flaunting himself so publicly. His training might have drawn attention, but they were nothing more than rumors. He was no stranger to them.
Sephiroth left with Squall, pausing only when he did. There was something in his eyes -- wary and doubting. Sephiroth waited until he was ready to speak. He would not force it from him.
”There was something she said to me.” The words were strained and unwilling. ”She said that she made this world just to watch me struggle with it.”Shame. He looked away like a nervous child. When he looked back, his eyes were almost desperate. ”I guess you’d tell me that wasn’t true even if it was.”
Sephiroth said nothing. She’d made this world? He turned the idea over in his head. He’d had time to think within that cramped and buzzing room he shared with Zack. He’d thought with his eyes closed and his legs crossed -- his emotions slipping away like water. This had never crossed his mind. It had no reason to linger.
”I can’t give you an answer,” he said. ”But the chances are low. If she could create reality…” His lips turned. ”She would never have fled. Whether she once had the power is irrelevant. She wants to destabilize you. Don’t give her the victory.”
With that he pushed a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs behind his cheek. He started towards the road and then stopped. ”I have roommates,” he said. ”They can be trusted.”
Or one of them could. He smirked wryly. Genesis was best experienced in smaller doses.
With that, he continued on again. Did he care about this woman? Maybe, maybe not, but it felt good to have a mission again. He would follow the boy for now. There was something about him that drew Sephiroth’s attention.
Perhaps it was the part that reminded him of himself.
