Letter to Father Abel
[ooc: This is what Sephiroth gives Tres to give to Abel...]
Father Nightroad,
I hope that I am not presuming too greatly upon the technicalities of the difference between speech and communication, but I find it ...more difficult than I had expected, to comply with your stated wishes.
You were quite clear in informing me that you did not wish to speak with me again. I have attempted to respect your wish, although I still cannot claim to understand it. Therefore, this alternative to speech is perhaps defying the spirit of your intent if not the letter of it -- but I hope you will allow me enough forbearance to permit me to explain what I may.
If you wish to sever the ties of our friendship because of Lady Caterina's injury, I understand your anger. I would likewise be angry with anyone who caused Cloud to fall over and apparently stop breathing in the middle of a fight. But such was not my intention at all, even if it was the unfortunate consequence.
I had intended to put several of you to sleep, so as to prevent you and Shelke from harming each other. However, there were several things I had not realized in the process.
First, I hadn't realized that you were unaware of the existence of sleeping spells. I can explain at leisure if you wish to understand; however, if one takes the time to explain such things while facing off against three people holding guns, the holders of the guns can usually manage quite a few shots in the amount of time the explanation requires. I had thought it would be safer to put everyone to sleep -- everyone but Tres, that is; he is not ...organic enough to sleep -- and to remove you from harm's way.
But I also hadn't realized that Balthier would cast a Slow spell at me. I had warded myself against such things as a matter of course -- it's an elementary precaution in mage combat -- and so his spell rebounded from my shielding and settled on top of the Sleep spell. Between the combination of Sleep and Slow, her heartbeat and respiration were both lowered to levels that were likely unnoticeable in the midst of combat. She was in no danger; she was simply enchanted, and both enchantments would have worn off in time even without a mage's assistance.
I apologize for frightening you and Father Tres so badly. It was never my wish to cause you such distress, but the gulf between intentions and actions can be greater than we wish. I hope never to cause you such grief and fear in the future.
However, I also believe that you owe me an apology as well.
Not for taking arms against me -- that I understand completely; as I said, if Cloud were to collapse in the middle of a battle, I believe I would also be terrified and furious beyond the capacity for rational discussion at that point. That was a natural consequence of the fright I gave you, and it was my own fault, even if not my own intention.
But I do feel that you owe me an apology for the deception you have practiced upon me.
I have never pretended to be other than what I am; I have never hidden that I am a creature designed for war, an inhuman weapon built upon what once was a human base, and that I am not like the other inhabitants of this world.
I had thought myself alone once my brothers lost coherence in this world, and yet all this time, we were alike. We were not only friends; we were similarly created, and similarly purposed -- but you looked at me, saw what I am, and didn't trust me enough to tell me that you were the same. Instead, you told me that you were only a threat to sugar.
That still hurts.
You let me believe that I was alone, that I was the only one who'd been changed this way, and you kept letting me believe it up until the point where you had every intention of not allowing me to survive with the knowledge.
I hope that the reason you do not wish to speak with me has more to do with anger over Lady Caterina's injury than with anger that I have survived with knowledge of your true self.
I hope that we were close enough to friends that you don't begrudge me that.
But I am not experienced in friendship, as I'm sure you know. One of the things I had thought inviolable about friendship was that friends did not lie to each other about something this fundamental to who you are.
I feel as though I'm not certain whether you considered us friends, because you thought that I was untrustworthy or somehow otherwise unable to accept the notion that you might also be a scientist's creation. It would have been an appalling amount of hypocrisy for me to look at you -- silver hair, unnatural eyes, black wings, and all -- and see anything other than kin. But you hadn't wished to offer me that kinship. I still don't understand why.
...There is also a foolish bit of jealousy tangled into all this. How did you get your designers to provide you with two wings? I knew my father was an incompetent madman, of course, but having just one is even more impractical than you'd imagine. It's not even good for steering with, since it's off to the side. And it's only practical to keep it hidden, between the little boys who run up and want to take souvenir feathers and the black-lipstick-wearing teenaged girls who get all starry-eyed about the 'wounded dark angel' and intend to take me home and wrap me in bandages and paint my nails purple or some such. If I had two, I wouldn't have to keep this one all crunched up in otherspace, and the feathers get all rumpled, and I'm sure you know how annoying that is. And neither of our arms are really hinged at the correct angle for preening ourselves, so we could at least have done that service for each other...
In any case.
Would you be willing to find some way to resume what I had considered our friendship?
Had you considered it friendship as well?
I hope that both of those questions can be answered in the affirmative. From an utterly selfish perspective, I'm tired of hurting when I think that you don't ever want to speak with me again.
If you are willing to consider the possibility of renewed conversation, what else would you need from me?
Because I believe friendship also goes both ways, and at some point I must have caused you to lack trust in my reaction to the knowledge that we were alike.
Therefore, where have I caused you to distrust me, and what can I do to make amends?
I want very much to be able to speak with you again. I miss our conversations. And tea. And watching you drink sugar with tea in it. And the funny expression you make when you're trying not to laugh at something. Also, I would love to know someone else who's used to the mess produced by the unintentional interactions of long hair and feathers -- Cloud's wing is all velvet, you see, so he's not really feather-inclined, and he's sensible enough to keep his hair short. But most of all I miss talking to you.
Sincerely,
Sephiroth
Father Nightroad,
I hope that I am not presuming too greatly upon the technicalities of the difference between speech and communication, but I find it ...more difficult than I had expected, to comply with your stated wishes.
You were quite clear in informing me that you did not wish to speak with me again. I have attempted to respect your wish, although I still cannot claim to understand it. Therefore, this alternative to speech is perhaps defying the spirit of your intent if not the letter of it -- but I hope you will allow me enough forbearance to permit me to explain what I may.
If you wish to sever the ties of our friendship because of Lady Caterina's injury, I understand your anger. I would likewise be angry with anyone who caused Cloud to fall over and apparently stop breathing in the middle of a fight. But such was not my intention at all, even if it was the unfortunate consequence.
I had intended to put several of you to sleep, so as to prevent you and Shelke from harming each other. However, there were several things I had not realized in the process.
First, I hadn't realized that you were unaware of the existence of sleeping spells. I can explain at leisure if you wish to understand; however, if one takes the time to explain such things while facing off against three people holding guns, the holders of the guns can usually manage quite a few shots in the amount of time the explanation requires. I had thought it would be safer to put everyone to sleep -- everyone but Tres, that is; he is not ...organic enough to sleep -- and to remove you from harm's way.
But I also hadn't realized that Balthier would cast a Slow spell at me. I had warded myself against such things as a matter of course -- it's an elementary precaution in mage combat -- and so his spell rebounded from my shielding and settled on top of the Sleep spell. Between the combination of Sleep and Slow, her heartbeat and respiration were both lowered to levels that were likely unnoticeable in the midst of combat. She was in no danger; she was simply enchanted, and both enchantments would have worn off in time even without a mage's assistance.
I apologize for frightening you and Father Tres so badly. It was never my wish to cause you such distress, but the gulf between intentions and actions can be greater than we wish. I hope never to cause you such grief and fear in the future.
However, I also believe that you owe me an apology as well.
Not for taking arms against me -- that I understand completely; as I said, if Cloud were to collapse in the middle of a battle, I believe I would also be terrified and furious beyond the capacity for rational discussion at that point. That was a natural consequence of the fright I gave you, and it was my own fault, even if not my own intention.
But I do feel that you owe me an apology for the deception you have practiced upon me.
I have never pretended to be other than what I am; I have never hidden that I am a creature designed for war, an inhuman weapon built upon what once was a human base, and that I am not like the other inhabitants of this world.
I had thought myself alone once my brothers lost coherence in this world, and yet all this time, we were alike. We were not only friends; we were similarly created, and similarly purposed -- but you looked at me, saw what I am, and didn't trust me enough to tell me that you were the same. Instead, you told me that you were only a threat to sugar.
That still hurts.
You let me believe that I was alone, that I was the only one who'd been changed this way, and you kept letting me believe it up until the point where you had every intention of not allowing me to survive with the knowledge.
I hope that the reason you do not wish to speak with me has more to do with anger over Lady Caterina's injury than with anger that I have survived with knowledge of your true self.
I hope that we were close enough to friends that you don't begrudge me that.
But I am not experienced in friendship, as I'm sure you know. One of the things I had thought inviolable about friendship was that friends did not lie to each other about something this fundamental to who you are.
I feel as though I'm not certain whether you considered us friends, because you thought that I was untrustworthy or somehow otherwise unable to accept the notion that you might also be a scientist's creation. It would have been an appalling amount of hypocrisy for me to look at you -- silver hair, unnatural eyes, black wings, and all -- and see anything other than kin. But you hadn't wished to offer me that kinship. I still don't understand why.
...There is also a foolish bit of jealousy tangled into all this. How did you get your designers to provide you with two wings? I knew my father was an incompetent madman, of course, but having just one is even more impractical than you'd imagine. It's not even good for steering with, since it's off to the side. And it's only practical to keep it hidden, between the little boys who run up and want to take souvenir feathers and the black-lipstick-wearing teenaged girls who get all starry-eyed about the 'wounded dark angel' and intend to take me home and wrap me in bandages and paint my nails purple or some such. If I had two, I wouldn't have to keep this one all crunched up in otherspace, and the feathers get all rumpled, and I'm sure you know how annoying that is. And neither of our arms are really hinged at the correct angle for preening ourselves, so we could at least have done that service for each other...
In any case.
Would you be willing to find some way to resume what I had considered our friendship?
Had you considered it friendship as well?
I hope that both of those questions can be answered in the affirmative. From an utterly selfish perspective, I'm tired of hurting when I think that you don't ever want to speak with me again.
If you are willing to consider the possibility of renewed conversation, what else would you need from me?
Because I believe friendship also goes both ways, and at some point I must have caused you to lack trust in my reaction to the knowledge that we were alike.
Therefore, where have I caused you to distrust me, and what can I do to make amends?
I want very much to be able to speak with you again. I miss our conversations. And tea. And watching you drink sugar with tea in it. And the funny expression you make when you're trying not to laugh at something. Also, I would love to know someone else who's used to the mess produced by the unintentional interactions of long hair and feathers -- Cloud's wing is all velvet, you see, so he's not really feather-inclined, and he's sensible enough to keep his hair short. But most of all I miss talking to you.
Sincerely,
Sephiroth