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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[attr=class,bulk] The morning was a gray one -- not exactly dismal, but overcast in a way that could have promised anything from winds to rain to an afternoon under a baking sun. City wrens trilled as they hopped about their tree branches, still driven by the dawn. Sephiroth watched one stop to fluff out its dull feathers with its beak, preening. He brought a cup of coffee to his lips.
The morning was quiet. It was uneventful. He hoped that it would stay that way.
It had been over a week since he’d been confronted by the mad swordsman. He still didn’t have a name or motive. He only had the results -- a vicious battle, the ruins of a town square, and the wounds that proved his own carelessness. He had dealt the finishing blow. He had dispatched the swordsman easily, and yet…
There had been a rabid look in the man’s eyes. He’d become something feral -- something twisted. And the sight of the once-soldier skewered on the length of his blade…
Sephiroth lowered his cup and looked to the sky. There was a reason he’d come here. Alone, trapped in that bedroom, he'd had nothing but the thoughts to consume him.
He was dressed plainly enough. His usual coat and black leather plates had needed repair. Instead, he wore a simple sweater, loosely form-fitting, over slacks. He’d tied back his hair. He hadn’t brought his sword, and without it, he could have passed as a civilian -- or as close as he could given the unnerving glow of mako in his eyes. For protection, he wore only a silver armlet over his right wrist inset with materia.
His masamune would draw attention, he’d told himself. He was still wounded, and a fight would only prolong the healing process. Still, he felt his blade’s absence like a loss of limb. His blade was an extension of himself. Without it, he was only…
The coffee smelled bitter. It was enough to direct his focus.
Angeal would have preferred he spent the next month resting. Genesis’ chiding would never end if he should reopen his wounds for something so trivial. Yet in that moment, there was only the morning, the quiet, and the people drifting past. Sephiroth sat in his iron-wrought chair, legs half-crossed as he let the coffee’s warmth seep into his fingers beneath a steel gray sky.
Part of him still kind of wanted to lowkey die after that messy affair with Prompto. He hadn't meant to hurt the poor kid, he really hadn't. He'd just... spoken without thinking. A simple failure of empathy that was becoming all too common without other people to rein him in. He hadn't the heart to make it worse, to just... kindly explain to Prompto that he ate regenerators for breakfast and that he regularly dealt with much worse. Then that dealt with the fact that would mean talking about being a Warrior of Light, which from what little he was gathering of other worlds, basically meant he was some kind of super man that flew around saving citizens and beating up bad guys that happened to be absurd in their own right. Which, well, mostly. He didn't really fly all that often, but the rest of it kind of rang true.
He was quite enjoying being a nobody, thank you.
Then there was still his quest to find Sephiroth and the blonde dude. He still had nothing on the latter, but at least Sephiroth there was something to work with. Thank you, Aerith. But after everything, he needed to cleanse his soul with the blackest coffee he could find. He'd dressed appropriately for it, at least. Red sweater, black suspenders--didn't part of that sound familiar? Wait, no, just imagining things. Plus with spring having arrived, it was that nice middle ground between freezing and blistering; a pleasant cool. He wasn't the only one enjoying it at least, as he found several others sitting outside the shop, enjoying their morning drinks. It looked like it might rain; it was Spring for sure, but he looked at the patrons, gave a friendly little wave as best he could, and made his order-for a pot, he'd be damned if he let anyone pour his own drink- before deciding to watch the people there.
And one caught his eye. Sweater, slacks, tied back hair. This man was obviously a writer. Silver hair, too. What really stood out to Alex about this man, though, was part of that hair. No, not the color. In his world, silver was extremely common. In fact, now that he thought about it; G'raha and Ryne aside, effectively all the Scions had silver or white hair. As did Cid. And Estinien. Needless to say, it wasn't something that stood out about him. What really stood out about him though, was the sheer length of his hair. Still though, for Sephiroth, the lack of a Masamune worked wonders; without the most identifiable part of him, Alex was effectively disarmed. Well, he was unarmed anyway, mostly. Fray lurked in his shadow if things got bad, but hey, can't get rid of yourself that easy.
Plus, after the disaster that was talking to Prompto, maybe someone who was probably less traumatized would be easier to talk to. Which is why when Alex got his coffee pot, he sat down next to the man, and started pouring himself a cup. "What. Is. Your. Secret?" He pointed at Sephiroth's head for a moment, before expanding. "For real, I've been wanting to grow my hair out a bit, but it always gets tangled and knotted." That and when you were in a fight, people would try and pull your hair, or it could get sucked into something. So he just chopped it off pretty often. It was a strange rule; that and no capes.
It wasn’t someone he recognized. The man looked more or less normal, dressed in civilian’s clothing with suspenders over a red sweater so bright that it would effectively negate camouflage. His hair was blonde, shoulder-length, and messy. Sephiroth kept the man in his peripheral vision without offering any sign that he’d noticed him. Sephiroth was used to the attention. He might not have even noticed if the circumstances were more in his favor.
They weren't.
Sephiroth was unarmed. He was vulnerable. Now was not the time to let down his guard.
The man stood and approached him. Sephiroth watched him without turning his head. Even as the man took a seat at the same table, Sephiroth did nothing to acknowledge his existence.
The man poured himself a cup of coffee. He pointed at Sephiroth’s head. ”What. Is. Your. Secret?”
Sephiroth finally glanced at him, very slightly inclining his head so their eyes could meet. He raised an eyebrow. His hair? Of all the things to get him noticed…
”Maintenance,” Sephiroth answered. In truth, his hair was getting more easily tangled as of late. He wasn’t upkeep that maintenance as well as he would have liked, and the unending barrage of combat did nothing to discourage it from disaster. Still, his hair was surprisingly resilient to damage. Maybe it had absorbed a lifetime of once-daily conditioner. Maybe it was the mako.
Sephiroth’s lips twitched. Obviously this was the most notable benefit of his biological augmentation.
Sephiroth took a long sip of his coffee. ”There are decent products to the north. The tonics in this city are better than nothing.” The bitter taste of black coffee was abrasive. It was what he needed. ”Are you thinking of picking up a hobby?”
First thing he noticed; the eyes. Namely, he was actually kind of jealous of them. He'd love to have glowing amber eyes, something that could pierce out from the darkness. This guy had really just hit the genetic lottery, hadn't he? Tall, chiseled jaw, sharp, glowing eyes, long, flowing silver hair. It really just wasn't fair how lucky some people had it. Well, mostly. Admittedly Alex could do without the cat eyes. Was the guy part Miqo'te or something? He'd never known of Miqo'te hybrids actually existing. The mother might have been a Hyur, considering everything else. Still, he listened, taking a long drink of the bitter black draught. Fortunately it wasn't as strong as he was used to. But he could remember days where, in preparation for what he knew was going to be a grueling battle, he would often down cups of espresso to get himself revved up. So for him? Standard black coffee was more just to give him slightly more pep than to really get him working.
The decent products were up north? Nothing more needed to be said there, as he couldn't help but chuckle. "Figures Sonora would have the good stuff. They make getting anything a pain, though. You know, assuming you don't get shot for the unholy crime of existing. But I'll have to pick some up next time I'm there." And he would. He really, truly would. He was bad with gil, and even though he wasn't crazy about Sonora, well, he was willing to do them favors here and there. Really, it was a huge part of why he was even after Sephiroth to begin with; the guy had a bounty, he needed money to feed some people, and that was that. Mostly. There was also a minor part of him wanting to rub it in Aerith's face considering how blatantly she had doubted him to begin with.
He wasn't that dumb.
But still, at least this silver haired fellow was friendlier than his hipster contrarian appearance would otherwise imply. Smooth there, Alex, real smooth with your suspenders. He took another sip before continuing. "I'm not sure you can consider hair care and self care a hobby, though. But in my line of work, I'm always up for giving anything a go. What's up?" Adventurers were... adventurous. That was clearly a mindblowing observation of the century, yes. "Oh, and uh, what brand do you use? It looks so thick and has a really nice sheen to it." The coffee was weak for him. He was near the end of his first mug before he looked at the pot, placing it between the two of them. Hey, it was a nice gesture, right?
[attr=class,bulk] The stranger had no interest in leaving.
Sephiroth had some blame in that, he supposed, for encouraging it. He’d chosen to respond. Sephiroth watched a woman edge her way through the cafe doors with her arms full of bags and one hand carrying a pot of hot coffee. She was a harried looking woman whose age was catching up to her, and as she shot him a kind of awkward smile, he looked away again. He had no interest in conversation.
For all that was worth.
The stranger in suspenders spoke of his experiences in Sonora. He would “have to pick some up the next time he was there.’ Sephiroth hummed, sipping his coffee. Once he’d finished it, he would stand and leave and find some other quiet way to pass the time. But that time wasn’t now, and for now, he had no choice but to listen.
The stranger asked what he was up to.
”Nothing.”
It had been a question. That was all. Most men didn’t overly consider things like “hair care.” Sephiroth wondered vaguely what ‘line of work’ that might be.
His hair was thick. It had a ‘nice sheen.’ Sephiroth raised his eyebrows.
Something felt strange about this. Something that lingered just out of sight. Something that reminded him of Genesis.
”Matrix Biolage Number 5.” Sephiroth’s eyes drifted towards the dull and graying sky. ”From the Sector 4 cosmetics line.” The company was Shinra owned, naturally. As most were. They were famous for their use of bioengineering in their anti-aging products. Their haircare series was expensive, but could be billed to Shinra’s SOLDIER department at Sephiroth’s request.
There was something strange about this. Something that reminded him of Genesis. What would Genesis have said?
A man had approached him. He had taken a seat at Sephiroth’s table. He had unsolicited compliments about his hair. It was ‘thick’ and had a ‘nice sheen.’
Sephiroth did not trust Genesis’ judgment in most things, but he had far more experience in casual encounters, and he generally excelled in social settings. What would Genesis have said?
Hm.
Sephiroth glanced at the man. ”I’m not interested,” he said. ”In any personal engagements.”
He had his answer! Alex scrambled real quick as he grabbed a napkin. Was there--please be--Yes! Finding a pen in the center, he started hastily scrawling on the napkin. In the name of luxurious hair, no price would be too high, no mountain too steep! Well, probably. He was one to spend on vanity, but the reality was he couldn't exactly spend what he didn't have, and Alexander had no concept of what a credit card was. "Matrix... Biolage... Number 5... Sector 4..." Right, so, that seemed easy enough. Alex just had to find the Sector 4 Store and check the cosmetics line for Matrix Biolage #5. In Sonora. Having absolutely no idea that this man had just sent Alex on a snipe hunt for something he'd never find, he gave him a quick thumbs up; both as a sign of gratitude and that he had gotten the message. Boy oh boy was he going to be regretting that one the next time he went back.
And then it got weird.
Or, well, it would have, if Sephiroth were dealing with a world that wasn't Hydaelyn. Alex craned his head up, blinking for a moment. Huh? What exactly was that supposed to mean? It took a few moments, before Alexander finally gave up. "Personal engage--Oh." Saying it out loud clued him in. Okay, that made more sense, but the way it was worded was a bit off for him. It sounded so distant and formal and curt. So, well, this silver haired guy would catch a break at least as Alex simply shook his head. "I'm not into guys." He said simply, and took another look at the napkin. "Thanks for letting me down easy, though." He joked lightly. The grey sky still made him wonder if it was going to rain as he looked at his coffee.
He should've ordered espresso.
Alex leaned back in his seat, arms dangling to his sides before he finally spoke up. "Also, you can have the pot, I don't mind sharing and I'd rather it not go to waste. I just don't like people pouring my drinks for me." Which meant that he'd often pay more to get to pour his own because he'd buy a damn pot or something. Or at least get Cassandra to do it, he trusted her. Or did he? Ever since she'd bailed on him in his darkest hour to go run off to join some rival company! He was never gonna let that go, no gil was worth the loss of such a wonderful companion!
Right, rerailing.
He looked back up at Sephiroth. "What do you do for a living? I've got an idea but I'm wondering how on the mark I am." Writer. He had to be a writer. Horror writer on top of that; deranged fans, sewer clowns, redrum, the works. That had to be it, especially with how cool the temperature seemed to be getting from the guy. Was he normally like that?
[attr=class,bulk] If the stranger was offended by his assumptions, he didn’t show it. He only corrected that he wasn’t “into guys.” He thanked him for “letting him down easy.”
Sephiroth paused, considering his coffee. He’d miscalculated them. He resolved never to listen to Genesis’ intuition again. At least not the one that spoke in his head.
But then that left the question. Why was this man speaking to him?
The stranger set his pot of coffee on the table and offered it to him which seemed strange. It seemed like something that a man “into guys” would do which left him more confused. It wasn’t that Sephiroth minded the conversation particularly. He simply couldn’t fathom its motivation, and he did not like to have the lesser hand in any matter of strategy. Was this a matter of strategy?
Maybe this was why he didn’t have many friends.
”You’ve been poisoned,” Sephiroth said simply. It was an aversion he’d seen before. ”If an assassin infiltrated the coffee shop, they could have poisoned the pot. There’s no reason to assume they would have only mixed it into your glass.”
Tactics. That was something he was more comfortable discussing. He knew assassination attempts. He was on stable ground.
It was a fleeting victory.
What did he do for a living?
Sephiroth took a long time to answer. It was a simple question, he knew, but it seemed...wrong. He had always known his place. He was a SOLDIER. He was a general. Now he was…
”Ex-military.” He smirked to himself as though he’d said some kind of bitter joke. ”I’ve been occupied searching for my friends. We were recently reunited.”
Angeal. Genesis. It was strange to think that he’d find them simply by going back to their apartment. Sephiroth had never lived with anyone before outside of military engagements. It was...crowded.
And loud.
He glanced at the stranger, that same bitter smirk touching at his lips. ”Were you close?”
Alex's eyes perked up at the observation made by the man across the table. And well, he was actually pretty elated about it. His lips opened to reveal a grin; that little observation was so off but for Alex? It made his day just that much better, especially after doing so horribly with Prompto. At least here was someone he could converse with. "By the Twelve, yes! Finally someone gets it. Everyone shoots me this weird look for it, but I've been poisoned, I've had friends poisoned. You just... learn to keep your guard up. I'll ignore the rest of what you said about that, though, because my paranoia is bad enough as it is." Things were bad enough, and logically he knew that no one here cared enough about him to actually poison him, but at that point, old habits died hard.
But man was this guy taking his sweet time. Did he want to give something cool sounding or something? Finally he came up with an answer. Ex-military? Part of Alex sincerely doubted that, if only because it took so much time to actually answer. Most people had a generally good idea, and unless they were trying to fib, well, they could speak up. He'd give him the benefit of the doubt, mostly. He'd still be a little suspicious, but well, no reason to bring that up. "I would have never guessed. I had you pegged for a horror writer. It's the outfit and the ponytail. Still, ex-military? Gotta be. No military would let you grow your hair like that." Just throw that in there. Maybe the guy was some kind of actor, instead? Obviously. Any of the Grand Companies would throw a fit over that hair, assuming he was telling the truth.
"I'm glad you found your friends though. I hope they remembered you. This world, it does things to your head. It makes you forget." He sighed. At least things were turning around on that front.
So he leaned back, finishing off one cup of coffee as he began to pour himself another. "You know, I never did ask; what's your name?" He needed espresso, something with more of a kick to it. In truth, it was probably more addiction at this point than anything. Back in his own world, he'd found that drinks like coffee or espresso helped kill the migraines that his Echo always caused. Now at this point, he just couldn't quit. Not without going through hell, anyway.
Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, his lips flickering into a smirk. Was there something particularly special about his outfit? It wasn’t his first choice. He often felt out of place outside of his uniform and combat gear, but he had no idea that his tastes were so…
Pretentious? He thought of Genesis. His friend would have been furious that Sephiroth had been compared to a writer if he himself wasn’t. Sephiroth had seen Genesis in civilian’s clothes often enough to take a guess. He always looked like he was ready for an upscale night at the theater or a dance club.
”I was an exception,” Sephiroth said simply. Shinra’s military program was fairly strict when it came to matters of uniform. Less so on matters of hair style. Sephiroth had taken full range of choice outside the bounds of even those basic rules because no one would dare to have told him otherwise. Not once he’d made first-class anyway.
”We remembered each other,” Sephiroth said. He remembered them, yes, and he supposed that was something. He remembered what felt like his entire life until he didn’t. It was a strange, shrouded space in front of him like gazing into a future offering nothing but pain and grief. The longer he tried to grasp it, the more he knew that he would regret what he found.
It seemed the stranger was from his own other place which was unusual, but not unheard of. Sephiroth wondered as to the statistics of such a thing. What were they compared to the average population? He doubted there was any kind of census.
The man finished his cup and started on another. ”You know, I never did ask; what’s your name?” He was making himself comfortable. And familiar. Sephiroth let out a short, almost-laugh through his nose and leaned back, grasping his cup in both hands.
There was a flash of recognition from him at the name as everything started to come together. Wow, he really had been reliant on that sword, hadn't he? Alex would never have recognized him otherwise. For all the inward swearing he was currently lobbing about, Alexander sure didn't show it. It was strange, he'd wondered how this meeting would go. A dramatic showdown, or something most like. Maybe in the rain, thunder crackling in the distance. He looked up for a moment, well, he might get that last part, at least. But, rather than immediately attack Sephiroth, which even surprised Alex to a small extent, he let out a simple "Huh." Before taking another sip. But he knew the jig was up, if Sephiroth was observant enough about pouring habits, he'd have noticed the recognition.
And yet Alex felt strangely calm. "Didn't expect to run into you here." Might as well fess up. He got the idea that Sephiroth didn't seem the type to enjoy being led around on what was going on. That being said, a coffee shop, really? In hindsight it seemed the most likely place, well, kinda. More just doing life things in this world, rather than explicitly a coffee shop, but that was the point anyway. "You know," He put his cup down for a moment, maybe try to relax the guy a bit? "You're not nearly as bad as everyone says you are. A bit cold maybe, but much more pleasant." Ah, but how to put the next part? It was a statement by which he needed to gauge Sephiroth's reaction.
"Not at all what I was expecting from the world's enemy. Most people who try to blow up their own planet tend to have a... different mindset."
Blunt was best. Maybe that shroud might get filled in.
What's the worst that could happen?
He was reminded briefly of previous foes. Fandaniel, Zenos, Bahamut, Nidhogg, the Cloud of Darkness, and so on. Those who yearned only for destruction had a very specific mindset that Sephiroth was either hiding or not. If Aerith had this world right, there may have been three possibilities in that scenario; this Sephiroth was from before then, he didn't remember, or he'd come to his senses. Alex was personally hoping for the last one. It meant that he was less likely to go back to it. He took another sip as he waited for that reaction to give him an idea of which of the three it could be, or at least to narrow it down.
Still, "I have questions, obviously." He said simply.
