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paixaorpg2006-03-02 06:58 pm
seared-god.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-03-02 06:58 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Character(s): Sephiroth, anyone who wants to jump in, and later Yorda.
Content: Sephiroth resurfaces, and forgets where he left his dubiously so-called "sanity".
Setting: Nearby the central Actua Are hotel.
Time: Thursday twilight between afternoon and evening.
Warnings: Violence ♥ Also a very long post since it is catching up on so much time I've been absent :) Bear with me and join the party! :D
A few good strides away from the imposing and rich structure of the city's central Actua Are hotel branch squatted a small derelict structure. No higher than perhaps two men, weather and time had not been kind to its surface which now bore no distinguishing feature to mark it out from those around it. Crumbling statuework decorated its eroded surface, a featureless figure astride four pillars which supported it, creating a shaded recess sheltered a few feet from the otherwise busy main street.
It was in this recess that Sephiroth's prone figure had been for longer than he now remembered. His head in his gloved hands, elbows resting on his knees, he sat with his eyes lifelessly staring at the scuffed and dirty stone beneath him. His clothes had collected dirt and dust from the structure itself since he had been sitting there motionless, but it didn't matter. A dark stain marred the otherwise pale skin of his face, old blood which at one time recently had dripped from his forehead into his eye and traced a red tear down one cheek. He hadn't bothered to wipe it off. In this eroded sanctuary of some forgotten spirit or entity, he was virtually removed from the city itself, though it passed but a few inches from his booted feet, the toes of which just stuck out far enough to remember the warmth of the sun.
His breath was shallow and his thoughts sluggish; he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. In fact... had he eaten? It was all so confusing. He had been part of the Lifestream, an unidentifiable energy that somehow still retained his strong will and presence enough that he could exert some measure of force and control over it even despite his erstwhile 'death'. He definitely hadn't eaten since he arrived here. Was he even feeling hunger? Abruptly his fingers tightened their grip in his hair, and clenching his teeth he fought to control his emotions.
It had all been so simple.. So simple to use the energy of the planet itself to travel to another world, as his heritage intended. But he'd been wrong! He'd been fooled. Once again that Planet had overcome him; he had been expulsed. And now he could no longer feel the Lifestream. This void, this abyss, this Hell he had arrived in was devoid, barren. There WAS no Lifestream! Unbidden, a bitter laugh escaped him then, causing a few heads to turn as passers-by caught the sound from the mess of old architecture. Sephiroth lowered his hands and regarded them with half-lidded eyes. They shook even as he clenched them into tight fists with a creak of leather. He'd oftentimes thought that he was going crazy before, but before... Before he had understood the higher mechanisms of the Planet, of Life. This place had no circle, had no wheel on which the Lifestream turned death into life and life into death and back again a million-fold. There was nothing!
And with the realisation that he was no longer connected to the Planet, another had come unbidden from the depths of his consciousness. The Lifestream was directly linked to Mako.. Mako that had been infused into his body countless times since he could remember. Mako that had altered his own makeup, made him something more than human.. Or perhaps less. But now there was no Lifestream, and he felt something deep within him. That core of power that he'd always learned to tap into, the strange ethereal strength granted when the human body undergoes changes brought about by Mako was dwindling, no longer there. There was a hollowness inside of him where something he never knew he'd miss was now gone. But with that emptiness came a strange awareness of other power around him, a source to which he had not found a way to tap into. And that was what he had to do. He couldn't let the Planet force him out of everything he'd ever amassed for himself, all of his aspirations to fulfil his heritage!
The time had come. There was a torn hole inside him where he had once been connected to the fabric of life, and now he knew nothing but anger and pain at being pulled from its inseperable web. He pushed himself to his feet with one hand against the rough stone wall, and dragged himself up to his full height. He surveyed himself in the dwindling light with wild eyes, his dusty and scuffed clothes and demeanour obvious to him. These rags were not fit for him! Anger uncoiled within him in the empty space that was eating him up, and he longed to release it. His sword had been slung this whole time in it's horizontal sheath, and now dangled lazily, temptingly, from his slender hips.
He was attracting stares from those around him, and a slow smirk crept into the corner of his mouth as he surveyed them with contempt. If there was no Lifestream, there was nothing for these people but oblivion. There was no cycle, he would be doing them a favour by dispersing their illusions.. He flung the hood of his long coat from his head and shoulders in a flourish, his hair falling across his face once it was freed with a casual shake of his head. His coat hung open down to the ground, the seared white flesh tattoos across his chest glinting as they caught the light from the lanterns all around just being lit as the day faded into night.
He could sense energy all around him, but its source was unclear. Never before had he felt so devoid of connection to that energy of life that fuelled him, what he drew upon for everything. The marr of blood that decorated his forehead and cheek stood out starkly against his pale figure, and a low chuckle escaped his throat as he remembered the folly of how he received such a wound. The idea of him being bested in a fight was ludicrous enough to amuse him, and the memory of him abusing himself even funnier. He hadn't felt a thing. That's when he knew there was something drastically wrong, something he had failed to notice. No matter how hard the impact from the solid stone had been on his fragile form, he had failed to feel pain. Only a searing numbness that brought mirthless laughter welling up from inside him unchecked into the open air.
There were open stares from all around, now, and he lowered his head so that his pale, wild eyes could take them all in from where they lay cloaked under his lashes. Maybe, if there was no Lifestream, he would find what he needed to once again be whole inside of them.
"There is no Lifestream." He said, quite simply, in a calm voice that nonetheless travelled to the ears of many of those who had gathered to stare discreetly at the madman who stood, dusty and dishevelled, bloody and laughing in the middle of the road. A young woman looked at him curiously from an arm's length away, and in anger at her incomprehension he snatched her arm and pulled her close, his tall and slender form dwarfing her considerably.
With sadistic grace and care, he slid Masamune out of its sheath with one hand, eyes on the girl's own wide, pale ones. "Do you not understand?" He questioned softly, ignoring the small crowd that was pressing forwards, looks of confusion and.. Was that.. Mild distaste on their faces? The girl whimpered softly as he drew the blade closer to her, and with a smooth motion traced a pattern of blood from her collarbone to her naval. "Can you even feel it?" He asked with a feral grin, pushing her away roughly where she collapsed to her knees, her face a mask of silent shock.
"How can you people live, like animals, with no greater knowledge of your standing or of life itself?" He questioned angrily, enforcing each word with the point of his sword as he swung it to clean the blood off the blade. The vivid liquid sloughed from the blade as water, peppering the pale standers-by with dark spots.
"There is nothing else for you. This planet.. This.. Abyss, whatever it may be, is detatched. It is profane! Its very existence is defective, faltering, imperfect." Through the cloud of his anger there was something gnawing at his mind, something urgent demanding his attention.. For a moment it felt like the familiar embrace of Mother.. He disregarded it as fruitless, remembered pain, and concentrated on the dragon of his anger lashing out at the crowd.
The press of the crowd had now become a clearing, people gradually shrinking away from the dark stain radiating from the woman at his feet. Sephiroth smiled, then, all restraint having left him and only a haze of anger in his thoughts. Anger at the Planet which had taken everything from him, anger at his abandonment, and anger at these people for whom life was just living. Endless, pointless living.
There had been times in the past that surfaced lazily in his memory where people fled from his fury, scattered to the winds like so many autumn leaves. But strangely enough, this time the fury and carnage he created seemed to only draw the attention of further more curious flames to be put out with the steel of his sword. And this time, he was ready to slaughter them all to the last man, woman or child, to sate his torrential anger.
Content: Sephiroth resurfaces, and forgets where he left his dubiously so-called "sanity".
Setting: Nearby the central Actua Are hotel.
Time: Thursday twilight between afternoon and evening.
Warnings: Violence ♥ Also a very long post since it is catching up on so much time I've been absent :) Bear with me and join the party! :D
A few good strides away from the imposing and rich structure of the city's central Actua Are hotel branch squatted a small derelict structure. No higher than perhaps two men, weather and time had not been kind to its surface which now bore no distinguishing feature to mark it out from those around it. Crumbling statuework decorated its eroded surface, a featureless figure astride four pillars which supported it, creating a shaded recess sheltered a few feet from the otherwise busy main street.
It was in this recess that Sephiroth's prone figure had been for longer than he now remembered. His head in his gloved hands, elbows resting on his knees, he sat with his eyes lifelessly staring at the scuffed and dirty stone beneath him. His clothes had collected dirt and dust from the structure itself since he had been sitting there motionless, but it didn't matter. A dark stain marred the otherwise pale skin of his face, old blood which at one time recently had dripped from his forehead into his eye and traced a red tear down one cheek. He hadn't bothered to wipe it off. In this eroded sanctuary of some forgotten spirit or entity, he was virtually removed from the city itself, though it passed but a few inches from his booted feet, the toes of which just stuck out far enough to remember the warmth of the sun.
His breath was shallow and his thoughts sluggish; he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. In fact... had he eaten? It was all so confusing. He had been part of the Lifestream, an unidentifiable energy that somehow still retained his strong will and presence enough that he could exert some measure of force and control over it even despite his erstwhile 'death'. He definitely hadn't eaten since he arrived here. Was he even feeling hunger? Abruptly his fingers tightened their grip in his hair, and clenching his teeth he fought to control his emotions.
It had all been so simple.. So simple to use the energy of the planet itself to travel to another world, as his heritage intended. But he'd been wrong! He'd been fooled. Once again that Planet had overcome him; he had been expulsed. And now he could no longer feel the Lifestream. This void, this abyss, this Hell he had arrived in was devoid, barren. There WAS no Lifestream! Unbidden, a bitter laugh escaped him then, causing a few heads to turn as passers-by caught the sound from the mess of old architecture. Sephiroth lowered his hands and regarded them with half-lidded eyes. They shook even as he clenched them into tight fists with a creak of leather. He'd oftentimes thought that he was going crazy before, but before... Before he had understood the higher mechanisms of the Planet, of Life. This place had no circle, had no wheel on which the Lifestream turned death into life and life into death and back again a million-fold. There was nothing!
And with the realisation that he was no longer connected to the Planet, another had come unbidden from the depths of his consciousness. The Lifestream was directly linked to Mako.. Mako that had been infused into his body countless times since he could remember. Mako that had altered his own makeup, made him something more than human.. Or perhaps less. But now there was no Lifestream, and he felt something deep within him. That core of power that he'd always learned to tap into, the strange ethereal strength granted when the human body undergoes changes brought about by Mako was dwindling, no longer there. There was a hollowness inside of him where something he never knew he'd miss was now gone. But with that emptiness came a strange awareness of other power around him, a source to which he had not found a way to tap into. And that was what he had to do. He couldn't let the Planet force him out of everything he'd ever amassed for himself, all of his aspirations to fulfil his heritage!
The time had come. There was a torn hole inside him where he had once been connected to the fabric of life, and now he knew nothing but anger and pain at being pulled from its inseperable web. He pushed himself to his feet with one hand against the rough stone wall, and dragged himself up to his full height. He surveyed himself in the dwindling light with wild eyes, his dusty and scuffed clothes and demeanour obvious to him. These rags were not fit for him! Anger uncoiled within him in the empty space that was eating him up, and he longed to release it. His sword had been slung this whole time in it's horizontal sheath, and now dangled lazily, temptingly, from his slender hips.
He was attracting stares from those around him, and a slow smirk crept into the corner of his mouth as he surveyed them with contempt. If there was no Lifestream, there was nothing for these people but oblivion. There was no cycle, he would be doing them a favour by dispersing their illusions.. He flung the hood of his long coat from his head and shoulders in a flourish, his hair falling across his face once it was freed with a casual shake of his head. His coat hung open down to the ground, the seared white flesh tattoos across his chest glinting as they caught the light from the lanterns all around just being lit as the day faded into night.
He could sense energy all around him, but its source was unclear. Never before had he felt so devoid of connection to that energy of life that fuelled him, what he drew upon for everything. The marr of blood that decorated his forehead and cheek stood out starkly against his pale figure, and a low chuckle escaped his throat as he remembered the folly of how he received such a wound. The idea of him being bested in a fight was ludicrous enough to amuse him, and the memory of him abusing himself even funnier. He hadn't felt a thing. That's when he knew there was something drastically wrong, something he had failed to notice. No matter how hard the impact from the solid stone had been on his fragile form, he had failed to feel pain. Only a searing numbness that brought mirthless laughter welling up from inside him unchecked into the open air.
There were open stares from all around, now, and he lowered his head so that his pale, wild eyes could take them all in from where they lay cloaked under his lashes. Maybe, if there was no Lifestream, he would find what he needed to once again be whole inside of them.
"There is no Lifestream." He said, quite simply, in a calm voice that nonetheless travelled to the ears of many of those who had gathered to stare discreetly at the madman who stood, dusty and dishevelled, bloody and laughing in the middle of the road. A young woman looked at him curiously from an arm's length away, and in anger at her incomprehension he snatched her arm and pulled her close, his tall and slender form dwarfing her considerably.
With sadistic grace and care, he slid Masamune out of its sheath with one hand, eyes on the girl's own wide, pale ones. "Do you not understand?" He questioned softly, ignoring the small crowd that was pressing forwards, looks of confusion and.. Was that.. Mild distaste on their faces? The girl whimpered softly as he drew the blade closer to her, and with a smooth motion traced a pattern of blood from her collarbone to her naval. "Can you even feel it?" He asked with a feral grin, pushing her away roughly where she collapsed to her knees, her face a mask of silent shock.
"How can you people live, like animals, with no greater knowledge of your standing or of life itself?" He questioned angrily, enforcing each word with the point of his sword as he swung it to clean the blood off the blade. The vivid liquid sloughed from the blade as water, peppering the pale standers-by with dark spots.
"There is nothing else for you. This planet.. This.. Abyss, whatever it may be, is detatched. It is profane! Its very existence is defective, faltering, imperfect." Through the cloud of his anger there was something gnawing at his mind, something urgent demanding his attention.. For a moment it felt like the familiar embrace of Mother.. He disregarded it as fruitless, remembered pain, and concentrated on the dragon of his anger lashing out at the crowd.
The press of the crowd had now become a clearing, people gradually shrinking away from the dark stain radiating from the woman at his feet. Sephiroth smiled, then, all restraint having left him and only a haze of anger in his thoughts. Anger at the Planet which had taken everything from him, anger at his abandonment, and anger at these people for whom life was just living. Endless, pointless living.
There had been times in the past that surfaced lazily in his memory where people fled from his fury, scattered to the winds like so many autumn leaves. But strangely enough, this time the fury and carnage he created seemed to only draw the attention of further more curious flames to be put out with the steel of his sword. And this time, he was ready to slaughter them all to the last man, woman or child, to sate his torrential anger.
no subject
The energy here was different, it was as if it didn't exist at all. The flowing of prickling magic was almost always faintly evident back home but here, it was as if it had been snuffed out like a giant candle; nonexistant. And with the dissapearance of any detectable magic in the energy of Paixao, came the lack of any way to actually preform magic. All of this was quite confusing and slightly irritating to Rinoa.
She had spent the night in the hotel after reuniting with Sora, leaving him to his own agenda; he had other plans afterall and she didn't want to linger unnecissarily. So, instead of following her brown-haired friend, she stayed behind. That night, she had decided to address the subject that had been nagging her since her arrival in Paixao; the said lack of magic.
She had noticed it when she had first awoken just outside the gates of Joutenheim and it became increasingly apparent when that flare of power occured just after meeting Sora. All of it was befuddling to her and she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why and she didn't have the courage to ask. What if they thought her to be insane? What if these people had never heard of magic or "energy" before? She dropped the idea soon after.
So now Rinoa found herself walking a little ways down the street from the hotel on a mission to find some new clothes -- her's had gotten a little beat up in the week that she had been in Paixao. But not long after leaving the warmth of the hotel did she find a crowd of people standing by, what she soon realized, was a man... with a really, really big sword.
The raven-haired teen caught the tail end of his sentence, 'Its very existence is defective, faltering, imperfect.' What? What was this man talking about? She watched in shock as the crowd backed away revealing a woman lying on the ground, a dark stain of blood pooling around her, slithering between the cobblestone. Her heart lept into her throat, stunned and frozen on the spot. Was this man mad!? Rinoa couldn't move. What had that woman done to deserve such a fate?
Her gaze slowly traveled up to the silver-haired man's face, eyes searching for a reason; she didn't find one, at least not one she could recognize. She quickly diverted her gaze again but found herself staring at the dead woman, eyes glazed over and looking up at nothing in particular. A shiver ran up Rinoa's spine and she hugged herself, looking down at her feet. Thoughts raced through her mind but one in particular stood out:
What had she gotten herself into this time..?
no subject
A smile curved the corners of his mouth ferally. Alright. It was fine with him if they would wait patiently for their judgement. His sword twirled in a dancer's arc, a complex weave that blurred the air around him while his feet remained firmly planted on the ground where he stood. People fell around him, barely piquing his attention as his eyes shrewdly searched the crowd for that flash of colour.. The movement that spoke of someone not of this place. Not a mindless, soulless drone like these facades. They were nothing more than paper in the wind, insignificant whether they lived or died, and he would rid his sight of them.
In a lull of action, he drew the blade close to his face, fingertips lightly touching the tempered steel with featherlight grace. "Come out, come out, wherever you are.." He intoned in a soft, singsong voice to the unknown newcomer.
no subject
Up ahead there seemed to be some sort of crowd. His interest perked slightly Vincent jumped up to a low rooftop, a single story store, over looking the scene. Then he noticed something that hit him deep within his heart. A silver haired demon slicing open citizens with an impossibly long sword.
Before he knew it he was muttered the word, "Sephiroth..." and had unholstered both his pistols. Down there, only about 100 feet away was the man who should have been his own son. The son of the woman he loved and would probably always love. Sephiroth, the demon child.
He stood on the ledge of the roof for sometime, looking quite out of place, unable to move or to speak, his body overcome with fear and repressed memories.
no subject
He had not missed the appearance of yet another dark counterpart to the fray, holding back as the other had done. These pale, desaturated citizens were just that; shallow, hollow... almost people. His smile cut a wicked curve across his elegant chin as he thought about how all the fuss was for nothing. Did it truly matter if such non-beings lived or died? Let them come. Perhaps then he would find that tentative source he was missing, that absent link to the Lifestream.
no subject
He'd been wandering about the city for some time now. It took him a great while to make it to this particular area, but it seemed like something invisible had been pulling him here, a sense of great, sacrosanct power which rekindled a small flame of familiarity within the man. So he'd walked to it, because he had no where else to walk and nothing to lose anymore.
When Leon came close enough to the scene to make out what was happening, he felt his heart sink down in his chest. The man in the distance, the only dark-haired woman standing near by, and the corpse on the ground - all of them had their own unique meanings to him in his private mind, but it was difficult to put them all in place.
Daringly, Leon moved toward the mess, but was tense. A gloved hand moved down to the hilt of his Gunblade, and slowly, the large weapon was slid out of its holster, to sway idly at his side while grasped in his large hand.
His boots froze to the ground a moment - he didn't see the black-haired man near by, perched upon the roof - but it was almost funny how the wind had, in a way, almost carried a voice to him, and he only just caught the soft syllables mumbled under his breath, when he had actually not heard him at all. The memory - different, as it was, from Vincent's - returned to him at the same time, that was all.
"General Sephiroth," he said aloud, eyes wide and blank, rendering it unable to discern the confusion and dread balling up inside him.
no subject
Frustration was fighting within him to be set free, warring against his conflicting emotions. On one hand he was disgusted with these half-people, and would gladly clear them all from his sight. On the other he fought to stay calm, though his madness at being severed from the very web of life that had always before been with him dictated that he slaughtered them all to find what mysterious link they had to their strange, alien world. There couldn't possibly be nothing, and he was no brute warrior with no head on his shoulders. He knew the value of knowledge and thirsted for it like any other. Whatever sourced their world, he would find it. It was his heritage.. His birthright!
A controlled flurry of movement caught his eye. Of the two (he surmised) darker figures that had appeared mingled in the crowds so far, neither of them had made any movements to make themselves known. This newcomer had the distinct feeling of threat about it, practised movements that spoke of a warrior's training rather than the clumsy uncontrolled movements of a citizen. Careful to hold the tip of his sword gently above the cobbles - only a fool would rest on his weapon, dinting or even blunting the edge - he stood his ground firmly, turning to the source of the movement with an appraising eye. Surrounded as he was by the blood of others, seeping into the ground at his feet and peppering the wall behind him and anyone unfortunate to be near enough in the crowd, he appeared as a dark silhouette with a white shock of hair engulfed in an aura of crimson.
no subject
"SEPHIROTH!" he yelled from his perch on the rooftop, clicking off the safety of his pistols. Hopefully gaining the silver-haired man's attention Vincent twirled the gun in his right hand on his finger. "What are you doing to these innocent people?" he asked, his voice traveling above the sound of death below. He still had no idea if he really could even scratch Sephiroth, but he had the mind to atleast try.
no subject
Pivoting slightly on his heel so as to be strafed between the positions of the two threats, he kept his vision carefully on each one so as not to let his guard down as his eyes crept up to where a very recognisable silhouette blacked out the just-visible stars creeping into existence behind him. He needn't see the man standing tall to recognise him, just the distinctive crouch and that raven mane of hair was a clear giveaway.
"Mister Valentine." Sephiroth drawled in a calm voice that nonetheless carried far, borne on the wind. "Well, well.. A sight for sore eyes indeed."
Inwardly, the pale haired man's mind was working overtime. First Hojo, now Vincent? Hojo hadn't recognised him in the slightest.. But here was another ghost of his past in the flesh, who retained all the memories of his erstwhile adversary and seemingly the emotions too, judging from his screaming from the rooftops. How peculiar.. Perhaps this would be another convenient stepping stone to discovering what this place was, why it was..
no subject
"You'll pay for what you have done!" he yelled, probably scaring off a few of the weaker citizens. His blood was boiling over, yet he still managed to keep a hold on the monster within. Vincent told himself he would stay out of reach of Sephiroth and his giant sword, knowing he would be torn up if he got close. And so he stood on the roof, glaring at Sephiroth.
no subject
Brushing his hair out of his eyes with the back of one black-gloved hand, he smudged the blood that already marred his pale face with the fresh blood now staining his hands, creating a crimson mask across one side of his face that made him look like the spectre of a nightmare. Absently he flicked a couple of drops from his fingertips, exhaling audibly as though he were an adult frustrated with explaning a simple concept to a child.
"And who are you to pass judgement on my actions and measure out punishment?" He enquired, still not dignifying Vincent with a glance in his direction, though he was more than aware and alert to his movements. "The last I heard you weren't quite sinless yourself." He added with an infuriatingly knowing little smile.
no subject
A voice suddenly traveled upon the wind, reaching the raven-haired teen with ease; it was soft in nature but as each sentence danced across the winds, they grew increasingly angry. Rinoa looked up to see the man perched upon the roof, guns in hand; she gasped softly, gaze flitting to the silver-haired murderer then back to the man with the guns; the situation was getting more and more serious (as if it hadn't been already.)
It was then she noticed the man who had appeared a little ways off, obviously as stunned as she was. She stared at him for a few moments before turning back to the man, now known as Sephiroth. She watched, frozen, as the man wiped a blood-soaked hand across his forehead, leaving a bright crimson trail upon his pale skin; she was living a nightmare, now she was sure of this.
no subject
There was nothing he could really say, only fire off a few blind shots in the direction of Sephiroth. He was so angry, he could hardly even control his hands. And with his strength being put into keeping Chaos down, Vincent only seemed even weaker.
"God will judge me when the time comes," he said mostly under his breath, trying to convince himself that what he was doing was right.
"You see, Valentine?" He asked triumphantly, throwing his arms out wide to indicate the mess surrounding him on all sides. "You yearn desperately to be just, but you're still a deathbringer. No matter how many dark souls you vanquish, you cannot escape what you are." He was taunting the other man, calling him out from his "safe" stance on top of the building, daring him to come closer.
To Rinoa
The girl, however - the black-haired woman who could do nothing but stand in the middle of it all and watch as the blood pooled around her - stirred something within him. No matter what Sephiroth had meant to him, how much he had respected him as a boy - he had been trained as a soldier, and soldiers must protect the citizens. He'd failed in Hollow Bastion, but the least he could do was keep his chin up in Paixao.
He moved toward the girl, shouldering his way toward the people, ignoring the best he could the exchanged between Sephiroth and the faroff man he hardly had paid any attention to. Reaching Rinoa, his brows creased and he frowned, looking agitated. "You shouldn't be here, girl," he chided her.
no subject
"You don't know me! You don't know anything about me!" Vincent was unable to hold Chaos fully back, and a single wing ripped through his clothes, casuing Vincent's face to scrunch in pain. His skin turned purple in a few spots, but for now, Vincent still held in control of the monster.
Not wanting to hurt anyone else, Vincent sprang from his position on the rooftop. He floated down from his perch, landing about ten or fifteen feet away.
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He raised a quizzical eyebrow nochalently. "Oh? I should like to say that I know a great deal about you.. One does not spend a great deal of time in the Lifestream without hearing the multitudinous whispers of all those departed.. All their sins, all their conquests and thoughts and feelings and losses." He hinted vaguely, slightly shifting his grip on the hilt of his sword to be ready should Vincent come at him.
"It's quite hard to miss the ripples of the passing of one such as yourself." He added, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile.
no subject
"You can't know..that's impossible," he said to himself, his eyes breaking connection for a few moments. Then he thought of something, and stared at Sephiroth again.
"Then is, is Lucrecia still alive?" he asked, his voice mixing in with Chaos' forming a sort of evil sounding voiceover.
no subject
Sephiroth's mind worked at double-time, weighing up his options. Vincent had power, that much was sure, but he was unable to use it because he couldn't control his own emotions. They got in the way of his true potential, the first lesson for any soldier was to learn to put those emotions away. But with someone to do that for him, with a purpose in mind.. He could be easily controlled. And right now, power is just what he needed.
"That, I do not know.. I was not aware of her in the Lifestream.." He said, trailing off in an artfully thoughtful manner. He was sure that Vincent was smart enough to conclude from that that his precious Lucrecia may not be dead. In truth, Sephiroth neither knew nor cared. But for all the while it was beneficial for him to keep up that facade, he would. "The Lifestream bends to my will." He said with a flourish of one hand. "Were I to be reunited with that source of power, or whatever similar foce tides this world, then..."
This may indeed be a very useful coincidence. If he played his cards right, he could use Vincent to help him find whatever it was in this planet that resembled the Lifestream, and once again be connected to that power source.
To Squall, I mean, "Leon".
So obviously, the sudden appearance and voice of the brown-haired man she had spotted earlier nearly caused her to have cardiac arrest. She whirled around, eyes wide and shocked. She stood there, silent for a few seconds before glaring; it was half-hearted at best. "I'm not a girl.." She mumbled, trailing off almost instantly as she spotted the serious look on his face. She cast a quick glance towards the battle before looking back towards this man. "Neither should you..." Rinoa said, stating what she assumed to be the obvious; she didn't know any better.
no subject
"Can you, can you find her?" Vincent asked, hardly able to stand, looking like he would pass out any second. "If you can find, I'll do anything for you," he pleaded, still breathing heavily.
Vincent wasn't thinking. He had the chance to find Lucrecia and his mind basically shut down except for the one part that still holded onto the memory of Lucrecia.
no subject
"Why, after all your adventures I'm sure you remember what you've learned about the Lifestream. It is the source of all the knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients.. And a little more, too." He replied liquidly. He noticed the departure of the other two figures with mild interest; they had not interacted with him, but they had seen his actions and they would in turn be telling others of these occurances. Let them.
He spun on his heel again, now with his back facing Vincent and his eyes burning through the retreating backs of the crowd that had gathered around him. He was no longer a threat, and so no longer a source of interest for these strange... people. It was as though they'd been drawn to his "abnormal" behaviour, drawn to his distinction from them rather than out of human curiosity. There was no longer need to watch him; conversing was surely an entirely normal action. They left the fallen where they lay, pale but for the dark blood seeping into their clothing and the ground around them. There was noone stopping to clear it up, collect the dead.. Nothing. Very interesting...
"First of all, we have things we have to do, however. Before even the slightest accomplishment can be made. Are you sure this is what you want?" Sephiroth enquired with a raised eyebrow. Vincent's rapid turnaround was a little surprising, though he himself had capitalised on it. There was still a little part of him that couldn't quite believe that one of the band of those people.. Those people who had brought him down, once before, would be so fickle to their cause. Though, he conceded mentally, if it were to be any of them, it would be this dark soul. His motives were never quite clear..
That's from *Leon* to Rinoa.
She was the only normal one here so far. So he could at least save her, right? Should that attempt to pick up the girl be successful, Leon began to hurry the both of them away from the area; they couldn't stand around here like idiots and wait for something to caus harm to them.
That's Ms. Heartilly to you. :)
The teen cast a quick glance over her "saviors" shoulder, staring at the two men still left amidst the bodies of the fallen; her eyes snapped shut immediatly, turning away quickly. This was definatly something she would never forget.
When they were a short distance away, Rinoa opened her eyes once again. Now the question was, "Where are we going?" She asked, turning to look up at the man once more. She then realized she didn't know his name but, judging from the serious expression on his face, that inquiry could most definatly wait.
To Ms. Heartilly. :P
So he carried Rinoa off after the short pause, mostly just looking to get them out of sight before making off anywhere else - who knew what else was in this city, anyway? Ducking behind a corner in some alleyway, Leon set her down again and then peeked around it, watching from the distance for a few seconds. Then he sighed, and looked back to her.
Quite bluntly, Leon groaned and placed his hand to his face. "This place is so fucked up."
Re: To Ms. Heartilly. :P
Rinoa took a few steps back as the man set her down and watched as he peeked around the corner, obviously making sure that their sudden dissapearance hadn't been noted by the crazed sword-wielding psycho; it was a proper term for the murderer, at least in Rinoa's eyes.
He spoke suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. She took a moment to glance at her new companion and, judging by his expression and words, he was just as perplexed and exasperated as she was. Rinoa kneeled suddenly, chin resting easily on her knees; she was worried again. How many more of these wackos roamed Paixao? 'Countless numbers, probably.'
"...Thanks." She said, looking up at him once more. She then rose, smiling weakly. "...I'm Rinoa Heartilly."
To Rinoa.
Leon quirked a disapproving brow as the girl suddenly dropped to the ground and curled into such a dismissive position - he observed it from between his leather-covered fingers, which still rested over his face. He had to roll his eyes at the display, even let out a small sigh, and ran his hand upward, brushing it through his long brown hair.
Relieved when she stood up and spoke again (the LAST thing Leon wanted to deal with was an insecure, wailing little girl), he let his hand drop down and slip itself into his pocket. "The name's Leon," his irritated baritone voice emitted, "It's nice to meet you." The last sentance was pretty ironic for the look on his face, but he didn't seem to notice.
Once he was sure the exchange was complete, he turned his head away to look down the other way of the alley, glaring disapprovingly as if it had somehow displeased him. It seemed to go through, yes, but he had no idea where it would lead them if they went that way. Then again, it couldn't hurt to at least try, because getting lost in a strange city was at least better than getting cut up or shot up and never found again in a strange city was obviously much more appealing.
After Leon came to that decision, he emitted another annoyed sigh and began to walk that way. "Come on, then. We better get away from here before they notice we're gone."
Re: To Rinoa.
Quirking a brow at his slightly irritated tone, Rinoa stared at the man -- Leon, with a questioning gaze. It was somewhat obvious that he didn't quite like the idea of her tagging along but as far as Rinoa was concerned, she was staying. At least until the relative safety of a hotel or other accommodating establishment.
When he looked away, she did as well, glancing first the way they came then down the alleyway, mirroring the look that Leon had plastered on his face -- this defiantly wasn't the cleanest part of town. Then again, what back alley was? But at least it seemed to lead to a different street therefore, away from the confrontation. Perfect.
Rinoa snapped back to attention when he stepped into her vision once more, summoning her to follow. Ok, so maybe he didn't mind and he was just grumpy. Either way, Rinoa nodded (mostly to herself) before following him at a reasonable distance. Oddly enough, she felt she could trust this Leon despite never having met him in her life. A strange thing indeed.
Re: To Rinoa.