(no subject)
Who: Cloud Strife and Sephiroth
What: MOAR FITE
When: Just at the end of Cycle 3
Where: Some random field
Summary: In which Eggy rps with self. Since I obviously can't do a log but consider this important enough, I kind of wrote a small ficlet from Cloud's POV. I was going to put it in lucetifans, but as it's a pivotal part of Cloud and Seph's stories, decided to put it here instead.
Rating: Uh...PG, I guess.
This was not turning out the way Cloud had envisioned. Granted, he hadn’t exactly planned out the encounter to the letter…but the battle could have at least taken the courtesy to follow his vague outline. Sephiroth shows, they engage each other, Cloud at one point gains the upper hand and Sephiroth dies bleeding out onto the ground from various mortal wounds. That had been the game plan.
Things were happening rather differently. Instead of Cloud taking the upper hand, the battle was dragging on and on…and Cloud was finding himself tiring, while Sephiroth didn’t even appear to be winded. He supposed that it was due to his pathetic other half sniveling and whining and basically not taking care of his body that had weakened him, but he couldn’t deny it. Sephiroth was…ridiculously good. Powerful, quick, and his technique flawless. Indeed, it seemed as if the only thing he lacked was a proper weapon; Masamune was, of course, still safely tucked at home, out of his reach. The General was using a rather average katana Cloud assumed he’d found in the weapons shop.
So why wasn’t he winning?!
Blades clashed again and this time sparks flew. Cloud snarled at Sephiroth over the metal, impatient and frustrated, but the older man simply stared back, expressionless. That was perhaps the most infuriating thing…that not once during the fight had Sephiroth lost his cool. He had remained calm and collected; even when he’d discovered the truth of First Tsurugi’s abilities and earned himself a nasty cut along his shoulder, not once did anything aside from that cold, calculating glare. Cloud wanted Sephiroth to panic.
He wanted Sephiroth to realize that he was going to lose.
However, as time wore on, it was clear that their skills were equal. It was a draw. Cloud was not about to accept this, and he moved to make that clear to his opponent when suddenly a rather awkward realization dawned on him and he paused.
It- he -was wrong-!!
A shoulder met with his gut and Cloud felt himself slam into the rather sturdy trunk of a large tree, First Tsurugi knocked from his grasp and skittering away over the dirt and grass, coming to a rest several feet away. In a bit of a daze Cloud shook his head, feeling the anger and hate and will to fight vanish -no, just…shrink- and he brought a hand to his eyes to rub them. What exactly…?
There, that rush of memory again…and Cloud winced. Thank God he hadn’t done anything drastic this time…although he recalled saying some rather hurtful things to his friends. There was an apology due. That would have to wait, however, because now the sharp edge of a katana was pressed against his neck and Cloud belatedly remembered why he was here in the first place.
Sephiroth stared down at him.
Cloud wasn’t in a position to do anything; he knew that if he even tried to move, Sephiroth would easily open his throat and that would be it and frankly…while he didn’t want to die, Cloud couldn’t blame him. He’d have done the same thing, if it were someone else who’d killed Zack.
Zack…
Cloud closed his eyes.
After a few tense, breathless moments, the blade lifted from his neck and there was a swift sting across his cheek. Cloud flinched, eyes flying open to see Sephiroth staring down at the few drops of red on the tip of his sword before lowering it to the ground and scratching out a message. Cloud peered forward to read it.
‘Blood for blood.’
Confused and a little incredulous, Cloud glanced back up at Sephiroth, eyes wide and more than a little lost. “…I don’t…” And Sephiroth met his gaze, and suddenly Cloud knew and felt something he never imagined he would when faced with the man who’d destroyed nearly everything dear to him.
Shame.
Sephiroth understood everything. The experimentation, persecution, hatred, loss, sorrow…he understood. Zack had been right, and like an embittered, stubborn idiot Cloud had ignored him. This wasn’t his tormentor…no, Cloud had been the one to do the tormenting. He’d hissed and snapped and loathed the wrong man.
This Sephiroth was the hero he’d aspired to be; this was what Sephiroth was supposed to be, without Jenova’s influence.
It took a few moments for Cloud to get his mouth working again, but just as he opened it to begin a stream of apologies, Sephiroth lifted his hand and -much to Cloud’s shock and surprise- rolled his eyes before sheathing his weapon and turning away. Cloud had half a mind to jump up and give chase, grab his shoulder and make him listen, but…
No. There’d be more time for talk later. Cloud…had a lot of thinking to do.
What: MOAR FITE
When: Just at the end of Cycle 3
Where: Some random field
Summary: In which Eggy rps with self. Since I obviously can't do a log but consider this important enough, I kind of wrote a small ficlet from Cloud's POV. I was going to put it in lucetifans, but as it's a pivotal part of Cloud and Seph's stories, decided to put it here instead.
Rating: Uh...PG, I guess.
This was not turning out the way Cloud had envisioned. Granted, he hadn’t exactly planned out the encounter to the letter…but the battle could have at least taken the courtesy to follow his vague outline. Sephiroth shows, they engage each other, Cloud at one point gains the upper hand and Sephiroth dies bleeding out onto the ground from various mortal wounds. That had been the game plan.
Things were happening rather differently. Instead of Cloud taking the upper hand, the battle was dragging on and on…and Cloud was finding himself tiring, while Sephiroth didn’t even appear to be winded. He supposed that it was due to his pathetic other half sniveling and whining and basically not taking care of his body that had weakened him, but he couldn’t deny it. Sephiroth was…ridiculously good. Powerful, quick, and his technique flawless. Indeed, it seemed as if the only thing he lacked was a proper weapon; Masamune was, of course, still safely tucked at home, out of his reach. The General was using a rather average katana Cloud assumed he’d found in the weapons shop.
So why wasn’t he winning?!
Blades clashed again and this time sparks flew. Cloud snarled at Sephiroth over the metal, impatient and frustrated, but the older man simply stared back, expressionless. That was perhaps the most infuriating thing…that not once during the fight had Sephiroth lost his cool. He had remained calm and collected; even when he’d discovered the truth of First Tsurugi’s abilities and earned himself a nasty cut along his shoulder, not once did anything aside from that cold, calculating glare. Cloud wanted Sephiroth to panic.
He wanted Sephiroth to realize that he was going to lose.
However, as time wore on, it was clear that their skills were equal. It was a draw. Cloud was not about to accept this, and he moved to make that clear to his opponent when suddenly a rather awkward realization dawned on him and he paused.
It- he -was wrong-!!
A shoulder met with his gut and Cloud felt himself slam into the rather sturdy trunk of a large tree, First Tsurugi knocked from his grasp and skittering away over the dirt and grass, coming to a rest several feet away. In a bit of a daze Cloud shook his head, feeling the anger and hate and will to fight vanish -no, just…shrink- and he brought a hand to his eyes to rub them. What exactly…?
There, that rush of memory again…and Cloud winced. Thank God he hadn’t done anything drastic this time…although he recalled saying some rather hurtful things to his friends. There was an apology due. That would have to wait, however, because now the sharp edge of a katana was pressed against his neck and Cloud belatedly remembered why he was here in the first place.
Sephiroth stared down at him.
Cloud wasn’t in a position to do anything; he knew that if he even tried to move, Sephiroth would easily open his throat and that would be it and frankly…while he didn’t want to die, Cloud couldn’t blame him. He’d have done the same thing, if it were someone else who’d killed Zack.
Zack…
Cloud closed his eyes.
After a few tense, breathless moments, the blade lifted from his neck and there was a swift sting across his cheek. Cloud flinched, eyes flying open to see Sephiroth staring down at the few drops of red on the tip of his sword before lowering it to the ground and scratching out a message. Cloud peered forward to read it.
‘Blood for blood.’
Confused and a little incredulous, Cloud glanced back up at Sephiroth, eyes wide and more than a little lost. “…I don’t…” And Sephiroth met his gaze, and suddenly Cloud knew and felt something he never imagined he would when faced with the man who’d destroyed nearly everything dear to him.
Shame.
Sephiroth understood everything. The experimentation, persecution, hatred, loss, sorrow…he understood. Zack had been right, and like an embittered, stubborn idiot Cloud had ignored him. This wasn’t his tormentor…no, Cloud had been the one to do the tormenting. He’d hissed and snapped and loathed the wrong man.
This Sephiroth was the hero he’d aspired to be; this was what Sephiroth was supposed to be, without Jenova’s influence.
It took a few moments for Cloud to get his mouth working again, but just as he opened it to begin a stream of apologies, Sephiroth lifted his hand and -much to Cloud’s shock and surprise- rolled his eyes before sheathing his weapon and turning away. Cloud had half a mind to jump up and give chase, grab his shoulder and make him listen, but…
No. There’d be more time for talk later. Cloud…had a lot of thinking to do.