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year 5, quarter 3
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Sephiroth slowed to a stop behind him, watching him warily. Zack sputtered something that only ran in nonsensical circles of his own uncertainty, and Sephiroth wondered exactly what thoughts were spiraling through the soldier’s head. There was something else that Zack had said that only added to his own sense of unease. Zack spoke of Hojo with nothing but hostility. Sephiroth had never spared any love for Hojo, and yet, he had never heard anyone come close to calling him a “psycho bastard.”
And still, Zack disproved his original theory -- or at least, if this was Hojo’s fault Zack was unaware of it. But how had Zack learned of the scientist’s true nature? Sephiroth’s suspicions hadn’t surprised him in the least, and in fact, seemed inadequate to Zack’s own understanding.
With every passing moment, Sephiroth couldn’t help the growing confidence that he had been left behind. Amnesia, perhaps? Sephiroth swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat. What could have brought him to forget such a significant spanse of time? Zack didn’t just resemble Angeal, but had in fact, matured not just in disposition but physically as well. He was no longer the lithe and inexperienced teenager that Sephiroth had known. How many years had passed since they’d last spoken?
And more importantly, was this a lapse of time or memory? Knowing Shinra, he supposed it could be either, but which would he have preferred? An unconscious stasis or an induced stupor? Of that, he couldn’t say.
Zack led them to a cliffside at the edge of the beach. The terrain was unstable with jutting rocks that rolled beneath his feet, but neither had any trouble keeping their balance. They stopped at a small shelf where the stone had been worn away into something resembling even ground. The waves pounded hard and insistent upon the rocky outcropping, tearing it away one grain of sand at a time. Sephiroth watched it coolly as he waited for the supposed “bombshell” Zack had so ominously mentioned. Surely it couldn’t have been worse than what he’d already imagined.
And then came the expected question. ”Can you tell me the last thing you remember? Before you ended up here five days ago?” The inquiry was not itself harmful, and yet, it felt like the first signs of an ambush. He had no choice but to leave himself vulnerable to attack.
”The last thing…” Sephiroth smirked faintly and looked up to consider the sky. ”It’s hard to say. The details are muddy.” As to be expected if his mind had been tampered with. He tensed at the thought.
”I’d been briefed on Genesis' appearance in Wutai.” Yes, that was his last concrete memory. The last terrible blow that couldn’t have been lost in the dulling of time. ”Angeal and I had been given orders to…” He trailed off. No, Zack would already know. Sephiroth glanced sharply in his direction, watching for a response. Time had undoubtedly passed since then. An abundance of it if he were to go by Zack’s new appearance or his general reluctance to speak on the matter. His reaction would say as much if not more than his words. Sephiroth watched for it carefully.
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.
Zack’s eyebrows rose in surprise then crossed apprehensively. He swallowed, perhaps buying for time, before he finally answered. ”Sure,” he said. His excitement had faded. His wide, childish grin had fallen back to something almost subtle. ”Here, uh, why don’t we head up toward the city while I try and explain things?” There was that look again. Worry? For him? Sephiroth blinked in the face of it. Had anyone ever used that look on him? He hesitated, uncertain how to respond, before Zack turned and started down the dock. Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed faintly.
Whatever had passed between them, he decided that he didn’t like it.
Their boots pounded across the wooden planks below, trodding almost in unison away from the setting sun. Sephiroth looked out to the horizon as they walked, considering the point where sea met sky. Something was wrong.
He knew it in the core of his being, in every instinct, in every lingering thought. The pieces were missing, his intel broken, and nothing made sense anymore. Sephiroth turned his attention to Zack again -- or rather the sword on his back. Angeal would have never parted with it, not willingly at least. Sephiroth felt his mouth dry. No. He touched at his forehead. He wouldn’t let himself think that way. He knew nothing of Angeal’s fate. He couldn’t allow himself that distraction.
And still, the thought lingered. The buster sword glared in front of him like a walking grave. Angeal would never part with that sword alive. Angeal must have been…
“How long have you been here?” Sephiroth tensed at Zack’s voice. He’d nearly forgotten about him. ”Err, not here at the Port but … In a place you didn’t recognize? That’ll help me get started.”
”Oh.” The sound came rather than any distinctive words. Sephiroth tried to shove his thoughts aside and focus on the question. What had Zack asked? ”I’ve been here for at least five days counting only those that I’ve spent conscious.” Their steps clattered beneath them. Too loud with the crash of waves and the bird’s squawking. Sephiroth touched at his temple again. ”I’ve noticed...inconsistencies. With what I recall. I’ve suspected Hojo might have been involved.” Sephiroth paused. Why was he telling Zack this? That was a fear he would have only divulged with…
Angeal. Zack looked far too much like him. It must have been subconscious.
”You appear to know more about the situation than I do. Somehow.” Sephiroth glanced over Zack again, frowning faintly. ”You look...different. Than I remember.”
Sephiroth paused at the elated voice behind him. It wasn’t uncommon to be recognized and called to at least not in Midgar, but he wasn’t in Midgar anymore or anywhere close to it, and he hadn’t been recognized in days. There was something oddly familiar about that voice -- something suffocated in the omnipresent fog. His eyebrows furrowed faintly as he turned to meet it and saw-
Angeal.
His breath seized in his throat. There was that familiar slicked back hair, that dark First Class uniform he’d always insisted on wearing to code, and on his back -- the weighted slab of his signature buster sword. Sephiroth’s eyes widened and he felt himself visibly brighten as he took a step towards his friend only to pause a moment later. No, he’d been wrong.
This man wore the trappings of Angeal, but he lacked the same square jawline, the same measured eyes, or the broad shoulders connected to a thick mass of finely toned muscle. This man was weak in comparison with animated features and form far too slim for the soldier he resembled. No, beneath the veil, the man before him was-
”Zack Fair.” Sephiroth’s voice came even. His expression cleared. Zack’s hair was different than he remembered, and he had no idea how he’d come across a First Class uniform. Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed as his eyes caught the Buster Sword once again. Why on earth had Angeal ever parted with it, and what was Zack doing with it now? The implications prickled uneasily at the back of his neck, but he supposed those were questions better suited for another time. There were more important matters at hand.
”So you’ve come too.” Sephiroth raised a hand as though to gesture to the landscape around him, but quickly thought better of it. Where were they?”It’s...good to see you.”
And it was. Despite his initial disappointment, Zack was the first familiar face he’d seen in a sea of strangers and uncertainty. Perhaps if Zack was here, perhaps it would all start to make sense.
But why couldn’t he remember for himself? The sight of Zack ignited something in the back of his memory, something painful that threatened to seize his mind in its grasp. The inconsistencies scattered around the soldier like glaring neon lights, and yet they did nothing to pierce that terrible fog. Why did the sight of Zack almost put him at ease? They’d never exactly been close, had they?
Zack wait on bated breath nearly trembling with anticipation. Not a new sight (the soldier had long held the reputation of an excitable child) but one that Sephiroth couldn’t help a slight smirk at the sight of. Some things hadn’t changed, it seemed.
”Perhaps you could brief me on the situation.” Sephiroth squared off against him, appraising him as something like an equal. ”It seems this is...beyond my scope.” A faintly pained look crossed his eyes before he quickly cleared it again. That admission wasn’t easy.
Yet it was necessary. The scales of power tipped agonizingly away from him once again.
Or at least, that’s what the man at the docks said after Sephiroth had trekked down a mountain, followed a river, and sought out this very harbor for the purpose of buying his way onto one. The portly, sea-worn sailor manned a station not far from where the ships were moored offering trips to Provo (wherever that was), along the Pale Coast, and to several unremarkable towns in between. But the ships refused to enter waters beyond the coastal shelf. Of that, the man made himself perfectly clear.
”How much would convince you otherwise?” Sephiroth pulled out his Shinra company card and passed it across the wooden countertop. The man picked it up, eyeing it in confusion before handing it back.
”We only take gil here,” he said. ”And it can’t be done. The sea beyond the coast is too dangerous. Full of monsters and rough waters all around. No one that’s ever gone past it’s come back in one piece.”
Sephiroth touched at the bridge of his nose, eyebrows furrowed. They couldn’t even manage a route over the ocean. Where in all of Gaia had Shinra left him to rot?
”Fine.” Sephiroth took his card and turned, walking before he really knew where he was going. If he’d been brought here then there had to be a way to leave as well. If he could ever figure out where here even was.
He slowed to a stop. The air was heavy with salt. The dock creaked beneath his feet. A pair of seagulls circled over the beach, wings spread and crying in time with the pulsing waves. His back itched beneath his right shoulder blade.
This was all wrong.
The incident in the mountains lingers behind his eyes even now. In a moment of panic, he'd launched himself into the air as though he'd done so dozens of times and more. The dizzying vertigo still soured at the back of his tongue. The phantom wind still grasped at the locks of his hair, and on his back -- feathers. He didn't need a moment's reflection to relive the horror of his spontaneous extra limb. The feathers tickled the surrounding skin with every breath.
What had they done to him? It was a question that echoed to him even now. It struck him in an odd way -- enough to turn his stomach with chills and yet somehow familiar at the same time. It was like walking through a dream. Or rather, flying through one.
He reached back and touched at his coat where he knew the feathers were nestled. Foreign bones bulged faintly beneath black leather, and he quickly withdrew his hand, fist tight. He was walking again, quicker this time though he still had no clear destination.
Behind him, the seagulls continued their endless bleating.
Sephiroth is a disciplined and often aloof man raised from birth as both a genetic experiment and the ultimate soldier. As such, he carries a quiet confidence that refuses to falter even as he questions his own nature.
FRIENDS
Angeal Hewley - An honorable, even-tempered soldier and Sephiroth's best friend. He carries Sephiroth's undying loyalty. Genesis Rhapsodos - A fiery, fickle man that is, nevertheless, Sephiroth's friend. Though Sephiroth is often worn down by his antics, Sephiroth trusts him nonetheless.
ENEMIES
Cloud Strife - A mysterious ex-SOLDIER with a blood vengeance against Sephiroth. He invokes disturbing remnants of memory that Sephiroth would prefer lost. Yuffie Kisaragi - A ninja from Wutai, Yuffie has sworn to bring him to justice though Sephiroth doubts her ability to do so. He thinks that she has much more confidence than she can back up.
OTHER
Cissnei - A Turk who Sephiroth reluctantly calls an ally. While he doesn't trust her, he can't help but rely on her as he once did with the Turks in ShinRa. Tifa Lockhart - An even tempered girl who sought him out after Sephiroth nearly killed Cloud. She cautiously explained the events of his past, and they parted ways on not unfriendly terms. Caius Dragelion - A weapons enthusiast that Sephiroth has no real opinion of. Alexander Sorel - A strange bounty hunter who's equally interested in Sephiroth's personal life and the price on his head in Sonora. While Sephiroth doesn't trust him, they parted on amiable terms.
ulla
SEPHIROTH'S TIMELINE
Here lies the story of Sephiroth . All threads are meant to be read in chronological order. Thanks for reading!
@crowe -- Sephiroth awakens in the snow, unable to recall how he got there or why. As he strains his memory, he's approached by a gruff woman who gives him directions. The two are attacked by a dragon which Sephiroth effortlessly dispatches, accidentally causing an avalanche with the force. He saves them by revealing his wing and flying, much to his own confusion and horror.
Auron -- Zack finds Sephiroth at the port of Torensten as he tries to find a ship back to Midgar. They compare memories and Sephiroth is enlightened as to both his situation and his own lapse of perception.
@delita -- When an earthquake strikes the city of Torensten, Sephiroth finds himself caught in the chaos. He saves a child, but dismisses the rescue of her family which angers a hot-headed knight. The knight causes a building to collapse killing the family inside. Sephiroth chastises him before leaving with his disdain.
Genesis -- Sephiroth feels inexplicably called to the Metaia Temple. He finds ruins when he arrives and takes the opportunity to search the ancient archives for leads on their situation. Genesis finds him there and confronts him about his past and their relationship. Sephiroth vows to stand by Genesis and take on Shinra together. They leave on friendly if tense terms.
@dust2 Genesis -- While leaving Metaia, Genesis spots a child fleeing the zombies with a box of puppies. He drags Sephiroth along and they escort him to safety as Genesis gives Sephiroth reason for suspicion of what drew them together.
@amarant -- Sephiroth is accosted while mediating on the beach to learn control over his new powers of flight. His challenger demands a fight and, when he refuses to back down, Sephiroth obliges.
Genesis -- Genesis and Sephiroth meet the morning after their mutual wild nights and share their stories over pancakes. Sephiroth shares his suspicions of Shinra operatives among them, and they vow to hunt them down even as Sephiroth feels uncertainty.
Genesis , Auron -- After concluding his business, Zack finally returns to his apartment to find not only Sephiroth waiting for him, but also Genesis. The two have a brief clash before they agree to set aside their history and coexist.
@ultimecia , @squall -- In the middle of Ultimecia's razing of Torensten, Sephiroth ignores the injured casualties and makes a straight path for the sorceress. Sephiroth and Squall manage to drive her back but not without consequences.
@squall -- After the fight with Ultimecia, Sephiroth is reunited with Squall as he's training to hone his new flight abilities. Squall asks him to join his force against Ultimecia and Sephiroth accepts.
@blacksuit , @shotgunfemale , @asael -- While in search of leads on Shinra, Sephiroth finds himself in Sonora and is confronted by Cissnei, a Turk who has taken an interest in him. Promising answers to his clouded past, she leads him to her office where he's met by a mysterious assailant who immediately attacks. The Turks provided back-up on Sephiroth's side, and Asael is driven to retreat.
@blacksuit -- After the battle with Asael, Cissnei leads Sephiroth to the back room of a bar to give him information on on his past. Instead, she lets slip that Angeal is alive and was last seen in Provo. Sephiroth leaves, determined to find him.
@quinaquen , Stella Nox Fleuret -- Sephiroth arrives in Provo and searches the Siren to find information on Angeal. After confirming that his friend had taken part in a blind dating event, he takes the evidence and leaves.
Genesis -- Sephiroth returns to his apartment in Torensten to find Genesis still awake. After a brief confrontation, Sephiroth informs him that Angeal is still alive. They set out to find him.
Caius Dragelion - On his search for Angeal, Sephiroth visits Provo's local zoo. His menacing appearance draws attention which is thankfully defused by the appearance of a weapon's enthusiast who claims to have met Angeal.
Cloud Strife , Angeal Hewley -- As Sephiroth is searching Provo for signs of Angeal, he's instead confronted with something far more deadly. An enraged ex-SOLDIER who looks disturbingly familiar attacks, and Sephiroth is taken off guard by flashes of scenes half remembered. Angeal comes to his aid, defending him until the ex-SOLDIER uses a suicidal Ultima spell which incapacitates everyone involved.
Angeal Hewley , Genesis -- After his fight with Cloud, Sephiroth is left on death's door. Angeal brings him half-conscious back to his apartment where he and Genesis have a heated reunion.
Alexander Sorel -- Still recovering from his wounds, Sephiroth decides to spend his morning relaxing outside a cafe until he's interrupted by a stranger who's very insistent on conversation. The man, Alexander Sorel, turns out to be a bounty hunter and insists on arresting Sephiroth. When Sephiroth refuses to engage even when provoked, Alex concedes that he isn't as bad as his reputation suggests and leaves him be.
Yuffie Kisaragi -- While out for coffee, Sephiroth is accosted by a spirited Wutai girl refuses to leave him alone. She claims that he went insane after learning that his mother was alien goo. He disbelieves her, and he walks away, thoroughly annoyed by the situation as she claims he ran from her.
@vincent , @blacksuit -- Cissnei, claiming to be fulfilling the favor she owes him, sets up a meeting between Sephiroth and a mysterious man named Vincent Valentine. Vincent appears nervous and claims to have information about his mother.
Tifa Lockhart -- In search of answers about his past, Sephiroth attempts to draw out his enemies by returning the scene of his near fatal fight. He is met by an even-tempered woman who claims to have fought him previously. She cautiously explains to him the truth of his origins, Niflheim, and Jenova. While not entirely believing her, Sephiroth thanks her regardless and they part ways.
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.
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.
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.
"Showing your back to the enemy? Overconfidence will destroy you."
I. BASICS
FULL NAME:: Sephiroth NICKNAMES:: Project S, One-Winged Angel GENDER:: Male AGE:: 23 ORIENTATION:: Asexual ALIGNMENT:: Neutral EQUIPMENT:: Masamune. Materia: Lightning (Mastered), Revive, Restore, Fire (Mastered) w/All
HEIGHT:: 6'1" HAIR/EYES/SKIN:: Silver, turquoise, pale DISTINGUISHING MARKS:: He is dressed perpetually in black leather and carries a seven foot sword. His eyes are bright with mako and have slit pupils
II. PERSONA
Sephiroth is the greatest soldier the world has ever seen. Raised from a young age for military life, Sephiroth is a model of discipline and self-control. He speaks only when necessary, often choosing action over words with the exception of gloating in his own strength. He finds humor in those that attempt to oppose him and is so inundated with his own unchallenged superiority in battle that he could not imagine a fight he wouldn't win. For this reason, Sephiroth often comes off as both cold and smug though this has attracted far more admirers than it has detractors. Sephiroth is aware of his status as both a role model and a war hero, and he has grown used to keeping his guard up and his professional act unwavering at all times.
Still, not every situation can be a professional one. On the rare occasion that he finds himself in a more casual setting, Sephiroth often doesn't know what to do with himself and considers free time a foreign concept. With such a limited childhood, he's completely unaware of how to converse like a normal human being and avoids any situations that might lead to it. Despite his overwhelming confidence, Sephiroth is a man of few friends though those who manage to force their way past his defenses will be rewarded with undying loyalty.
Past his ego and public persona, Sephiroth longs for the family and love that he was never shown as a child. He has known all his life that he was different though what that means, he still doesn't quite understand. His has always been a lonely existence, living on the edges of his peers and never quite belonging among them. He fears the differences inside of himself, the past he still questions the meaning of, and the answers he might find should he one day seek them.
Whether he was bred a hero or a monster remains to be seen.
III. HISTORY
He was born not with love, but something far greater: a purpose.
Sephiroth had always had suspicions of his father, terrible suspicions which did nothing to put his mind at ease. Perhaps it was the interest Hojo had in him, the prideful and cryptic remarks for his "project," or maybe pure instinct. Regardless, Sephiroth wanted nothing to do with the man one way or another. Hojo told him that he was destined for great things -- far greater than any other alive, and with time, Sephiroth witnessed the results for himself. Hojo was many things -- amoral, cruel, and a hack scientist -- but he was right about one thing.
Sephiroth was destined for greatness.
He thought often to his mother, imagining that perhaps his strength came from her rather than the ambiguous father he'd rather not have. He imagined the embrace of such a woman, what it might mean to have a mother, but the image was never quite clear beyond the haze of storybook tales and popular media. In truth, he knew only her name, dropped by Hojo in his most cryptic and mocking of tones -- Jenova. He carried that name with him like an amulet.
It was what his mind flitted to when reeling from the effects of Mako poisoning, when sitting for hours in the murky din atop a hospital bed and gazing at the ever-present blue-green glow. His childhood was not a pleasant one, but it was the only one he knew. He was seen by Hojo and his assistants as a scientific curiosity first, a potential soldier second, and a child at a distant third. Still, that time was not without its own rays of light -- no matter how dim. One of Hojo's assistants stood above the rest, a man far more brilliant than his station allowed. Professor Gast would approach him with a gentle smile, ask with genuine interest as to his well-being and interests, and apologize for the obligatory prick of needles. Sephiroth often played at the idea that Gast was his father. It was a far more comfortable truth than the alternative.
At thirteen, he was deemed fit for combat and took to training with an almost religious fervor. It was an escape from his previous life, a freedom in its own way, and his first chance to revel in his own power. He took pride in his physical accomplishments, and became a second-class SOLDIER by the age of fourteen. By fifteen, he was promoted again. He became the youngest First Class SOLDIER in history, and he took this to heart. Still, the other soldiers were hesitant to approach him partially from intimidation of his strength, partially due to his age, and mostly from his strange and off-putting demeanor.
For his part, Sephiroth kept to himself and that suited him just fine. Or at least, that was what he thought.
By sixteen, the best of his age filtered into the First Class ranks. He treated them as he would any other, turning down their reluctant invitations to join them and initiating no interaction for himself. That was, until he met a man by the name of Angeal Hewley. Sephiroth had been aware of Angeal's considerable talent even as a Second, and his promotion was no surprise. Still, while the other SOLDIERs were on leave, Sephiroth was surprised to find that both Angeal and his haughty Second Class friend had chosen to stay behind. Angeal asked him to join them, and for once, someone followed through on that offer even when rejected. Angeal took a genuine interest in Sephiroth for reasons that Sephiroth couldn't imagine. Still, he couldn't say that he disliked the Angeal's warmth nor his genuine sense of discipline and strength. Eventually, Sephiroth relented to Angeal's attempts to socialize, and by the end of the year, might have even called him a friend.
Angeal's companion, however, was a different matter entirely.
Genesis Rhapsodos struck Sephiroth immediately as both fickle and unstable. He was quick to insults and even quicker to dismiss almost everyone around him. For the longest time, Sephiroth couldn't fathom why Angeal kept the company of such an intensely unlikeable man. The two were utter opposites -- Angeal, reserved and honorable; Genesis, spiteful and dramatic. Sephiroth and Genesis clashed almost immediately, though the soldier's attempts to rile him only ever ended in cool indifference on Sephiroth's part. Still, the close proximity under Angeal's company eventually softened the animosity between them to something like mocking banter. Slowly, Sephiroth learned to tolerate Genesis' existence.
And then Genesis, too, took can interest in him.
Sephiroth would never understand why. Perhaps it was only a product of working together as Genesis laboriously worked his way to the top of the Second Class. Perhaps it was all Angeal's idea. Regardless, Genesis' drive to befriend him was an undeniable fact. Sephiroth had no idea what to make of it, but found himself nearly powerless in the face of Genesis' fiery will, and he eventually relented more out of social exhaustion than anything else. What followed was a sequence of what Sephiroth could only describe as his own personal hell -- frequent visits to a play that Sephiroth had only heard of in passing but that Genesis muttered along to with breathless reverence, forcible journeys into the districts of Midgar that Sephiroth had taken to purposefully avoiding, and wild social gatherings that Genesis had to physically drag him to only for Sephiroth to stand awkwardly in the corner, unnerving anyone who happened to wander close to him.
Still, Genesis' efforts did not go unnoticed. In some small way, Sephiroth appreciated the interest even at the cost of his of his own comfort. Though he would never admit it, Genesis, too, had somehow befriended him.
Sephiroth took to training with both Angeal and Genesis on their own time, and he took a personal investment in strengthening the both of them. It became obvious to him that Genesis far outpaced his Second Class peers, and he pressured Angeal into helping him show more respect to authority before suggesting Genesis' promotion personally to Lazard. With all of these factors in place, Genesis joined them as a First Class SOLDIER, and the three of them became the most revered SOLDIERs in Midgar.
This status quo remained until only a little after Sephiroth turned twenty-two. During a routine sparring session, Genesis was spurned onward by a desire to prove himself, growing enraged by Sephiroth's superiority until Angeal intervened. The force of clashing swords broke Angeal's blade and the shrapnel cut deep into Genesis' shoulder. Sephiroth and Angeal rushed him to the medical bay, but though they had seen Genesis brush off far worse wounds than this, the hospital staff were powerless to stop the bleeding.
Sephiroth and Angeal spent every possible moment in the waiting room, tense against plastic chairs and bracing themselves for news -- any news -- that could tell them the status of their friend. While they both fervently offered to donate blood, Sephiroth was turned away even as Angeal went pale from the effort and could barely stand. Again and again, Sephiroth demanded they take from him instead, but again and again he was refused without any adequate explanation. As the hours dragged on into early morning, the question repeated in an uneasy echo.
Why could he not be the donor?
Genesis was pronounced stable just as quickly as he'd been announced at death's door. Both Sephiroth and Angeal rushed to see him, only to be told that he'd been transported away. They pressed for more information, but even Sephiroth's threats of his own rank did nothing to help him. He demanded answers from every doctor who had worked on him and even barged into the science department, requesting Hollander by name, but it was of no use. Hollander, it seemed, was missing.
And Genesis wasn't the only SOLDIER to simply disappear. Shortly after, a flood of Seconds left their posts with no explanation, deserting in mass without a single trail to follow. Sephiroth and Angeal, however, were too busy in Wutai to deal much with Shinra's internal struggles. It wasn't until they were called back to Midgar for a new briefing that they found any leads on Genesis. He'd been spotted in Wutai and was presumed to be a traitor. They had orders to finish the Wutai War by any means necessary, though both carried with them an ulterior motive. They would find Genesis, and they would discover the truth for themselves.
After this, Sephiroth's life would transform into an unrecognizable shell of what it had once been. Angeal would desert with Genesis, Sephiroth would be ordered to kill them both, Angeal would die by the hands of his successor, and Sephiroth would learn of his own origins. However, he remembers none of this, not the fires of Nibelheim nor the countless lives slaughtered nor his own death. He doesn't remember the years spent in torturous isolation just outside the Lifestram, and he doesn't remember fusing with JENOVA, possessing the malevolent being to wreak untold disaster upon the world and ascend to the level of a god. Still, these events flicker like a dying breath in the back of his mind.
These are things he does not want to remember, for at the time of his awakening, he has finally returned to the very state he most desired -- almost human.
IV. AUTHOR
PLAYER ALIAS:: Fin OTHER CHARACTERS:: Kuja, Celes, Faris, and Ardyn ROLE-PLAYING EXPERIENCE:: Well, three years on here for one HOW YOU FOUND US:: Adventu has rooted itself in my very soul NOTES FOR CONSIDERATION:: I am playing a fully human, Crisis Core Sephiroth. He could potentially regain his memories however. ALSO I MADE A SAMPLE BECAUSE I WANTED TO ROLE-PLAY SAMPLE:: “Why must I be here?”
The atmosphere of the establishment was wild, relaxed, and foreign. Sephiroth had been invited to places like these after missions occasionally whenever one of the Seconds thought to ask him. Sephiroth had never understood it, and by the relief that flitted across their faces, he’d always assumed they’d never truly wanted him among them anyway. All of this was a waste of time. A flagrant disregard for practicality.
And yet…
”You promised you’d come with me, and by the Goddess, I’ll make you loosen up or I’ll die trying.” Genesis gave a wave of his hand, flipping his hair behind his ear so his earring caught the light. ”My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess.”
A strong hand grasped his shoulder, and Angeal stood beside him. ”You’ll weather through.” He gave Sephiroth a faint and reassuring smile. ”I’ll step in if things get tense.”
”But is this really necessary?”
Genesis ignored him, just giving a scoff and quoting more poetry as he pushed through the doors. Angeal patted him twice on the shoulder before starting after him. Sephiroth stood on the sidewalk, watching the glass doors as they closed shut. Inside, there was laughter. People sat huddled together in leather booths, drinks in hand. Outside, the wind swept cold and bitter at his hair. Somewhere across the street, someone gasped and muttered his name.
Still, the door was shut in front of him.
Angeal paused and turned to look at him. After a moment, he smiled and held the door for him. ”After you,” he said with a knowing look in his eye. Sephiroth hesitated before walking through.
The brewhouse was warm. A dull orange light set a hazy mood, and Sephiroth tensed instantly at the heavy smell of alcohol. He’d never approved of Genesis’ looser habits, and he’d certainly never chosen this himself. However, he’d accepted Genesis’ challenge during training that should he last up to fifteen minutes against him, Sephiroth would come with them that night. Sephiroth hadn’t expected him to actually manage it. He supposed all Genesis really needed to succeed was the right motivation.
Angeal placed a hand at his upper back and led him towards the booth that Genesis had already claimed for himself. Genesis sat sprawled back in a lazy slouch, ankles crossed as he read his pocket-sized book of poetry. He looked up from it as they approached and gave them both a scathing look. ”Finally. Did you get lost?” He gave them both a dramatic wave as they slid in beside him, Angeal first and then Sephiroth at the edge. He sat straight-backed with his hands clasped in his lap.
”We’re not in training, you know. You don’t have to look so stiff.” Genesis stashed the book in his coat pocket and leaned back, arms crossed. ”Or has the Great General Sephiroth never heard of time off?”
In truth, he hadn’t -- or at least he hadn’t much seen the point. He far preferred the rules of the military to chaos like this, and he wasn’t much for wasted time. Going “out on the town” did nothing to further his career, himself, or the will of Shinra. Still, he couldn’t stand down from Genesis’ taunt so he scoffed and answered, ”Hmph. I’m not so inexperienced, Genesis.”
”Oh?” His eyebrows shot up in interest. ”And what wild stories do you have to tell?”
Sephiroth paused. Why had he let Genesis bait him?”None that you’d like to hear.”
Genesis laughed and even Angeal gave a soft chuckle. Sephiroth crossed his arms and simmered. He could have fun. In fact, he’d show them just how stiff he wasn’t. He’d speak to them about something other than combat. He’d even pretend that the environment didn’t make his skin crawl. As long as Genesis didn’t suggest…
”So, drinks then?” He grabbed a menu and glanced over it without interest before tossing it at Angeal. Sephiroth stiffened.
”That’s against regulations the night before a mission.”
”The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess,” Genesis said with a sly smile. Sephiroth looked to Angeal for help, but he was buried deeply in thought over the laminated paper in front of him. Sephiroth turned his attention straight ahead.
”It’s breaks protocol.”
”The arrow, Sephiroth.” Genesis raised a hand carelessly. ”So what will it be? Vodka? Whiskey? I’m partial to wine myself.”
Sephiroth stared at him. This was not what he’d signed up for.
”Water,” he said, sharper than before. Angeal passed him the menu anyway. Sephiroth did not look at it. ”I said I’d join you, not that I’d drink.”
”Technicalities.” Genesis waved over a waitress dressed in black formalwear. ”Yes, I’ll have a glass of Merlot.”
Angeal nodded beside him. ”A Stella, tall.”
”Just a water, pl-”
”And he’ll have a whiskey sour.” Genesis shot him a malicious grin. ”That’ll be all.”
”Ah, no. Don’t-!” But the waitress had already walked away with a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement. Sephiroth’s mouth closed. He had not signed up for this.
”If you’re going to be around me, Sephiroth, then you can at least have some fun. Otherwise you’ll just depress me all night.” Genesis gave a dramatic sigh. ”The wind sails over the water’s surface, quietly but surely.”
”But-,” Sephiroth started but then closed his mouth. There was no use arguing. Even he knew that.
Angeal leaned over towards him and lowered his voice. ”If you don’t want it, I’ll finish it for you.”
Sephiroth looked to him for reassurance, and when he saw Angeal’s sincerity, gave a sigh of relief. ”Thank you.”
”Don’t spoil the fun, Angeal.” Genesis shot Angeal a nasty look which Angeal returned with a slight smirk. Finally, Genesis waved him off. ”Oh fine. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Honor and all that.”
Angeal’s expression straightened into something deathly serious. ”My honor is my life.”
Sephiroth couldn’t help it. He laughed under his breath. Maybe he could tolerate this “time off” experience. So long as Angeal was beside him. Maybe.
”Have you heard that the theater is only offering showings of Loveless every other Thursday now? A travesty in my opinion. I bought those season tickets for a reason, and already I’m tempted to set the whole place on fire.”
Sephiroth smirked and pretended to follow along. The lights hummed their dull orange like sunset, the air was warm and humid and sweet. For once, his shoulders loosened.
And at that moment, the chaos and the smell and gossiping stares didn’t matter. There was only the three of them.
