(Untitled)

[eco_terrorista]

Who: Elfé & Sephiroth
When: Early morning, shortly after Sephiroth goes out.
Location: Sephiroth's Shack Midgar Ruins
Rating: PG-13 (for 'violence', though for these two it might as well be 'play'.)
Summary: Elfé goes scavanging in empty houses for supplies, and picks the wrong one.

Comments

[sephiroth_san]

Everything seems more remote in the dark... Sephiroth had come to this conclusion just as he had decided to head back down to pack up and move again, the move would be deeper into the ruins and away from where it looked from above like there was a group of people living nearby. Too close for comfort, although there was that nagging thought again which made him question why he's putting up with living like he has been, skulking around like some outcast.

It had crossed his mind more than once how he could have just killed off the occupants and have somewhere more comfortable to stay. Both of these thoughts were pushed to the very back of his mind, Mother was with him and that was all that mattered for the moment. He imagined that her wrath; should his premature appearance to the world interrupt her grand plan, would be unforgiving and he wanted very much to please Jenova. If she did not require accommodation with it's comfy beds and other such luxuries, then logic surely suggested that his vain and selfish requirements were just him being vain and selfish.

However, upon landing nearby to his last nights shelter (since he refuses to call it a home) something felt amiss straight away. Heightened hearing detected the sound of the shuffle of someone stancing as if ready for a fight and it was coming directly from inside where he'd been sleeping!

The angle that the sunlight had started to rise at behind him made it quite hard to see directly into the doorway, so Sephiroth stretched out the ominous black wing to throw a shadow over the doorway several feet in front of him. The sunlight glinting brightly off the top of the opposite silver pauldron as his slitted eyes quickly focused onto the intruder. There was an inactive silence that seemed to last forever, his tall well built frame clad in leather silhouetted against the rising sun, catching his silver hair giving his head a crown of reflected light. The black feathered sun-shade fluttered away to nothing almost like smoke as he began his approach to the doorway, knowing full well that there was only one door out of that particular shack. Finally, a chance to stretch...

As soon as he was close enough, the sing of a blade could be heard and then the Masamune was outstretched towards Elfe, just shy of being in range of her own katana. Silently daring Elfe to swing first, a slight smirk stretched across his lips and a cruel fire smoldered in his eyes as he waited almost patiently...

[eco_terrorista]

She knew this man, and she knew his blade. Though ten years might have passed between them, in her memory only a fraction of that time had gone by since they had crossed swords at Junon. Sephiroth was not a figure to be mistaken, much less forgotten.

And for a moment, the decaying walls around them vanished, replaced with the rocky face of the coastal city. For a moment, she saw the distant silhouette of the Sister Ray, and heard the ocean waves lapping and expiring at the feet of the cliffs below.

"...General."

Her voice was soft, and she tipped her head slightly in greeting (if not acknowledgment) of the silver-haired SOLDIER. However, her cold eyes remained impassively affixed on the wicked sweep of the Masamune.

Everything that Veld had explained to her, the ailments and sufferings of the Planet, its antagonists... She could no longer bring his words into mind. The days she'd spent traveling aboard the airship and on her bike had caused her to realize how foreign the world really was. (...No, how foreign her existence was to the world.)

Until now. Her memory of Sephiroth was the first and only remnant of her former life to manifest in this one. The past decade had aged the Planet, her hometown, her father, but the appearance of the (ex-)general had remained untouched by time. Ironically, it was also a sentiment she couldn't possibly find comfort in--they had been enemies, and clearly still were.

Elfé did not comprehend his motives (he was... waiting?)--the last they'd met the SOLDIER had simply attacked her without so much as an introduction. However, there was something else that wasn't aligning properly in her cognizance. Though the dangerous air about him had not changed in the least, the quality of that danger certainly had. It was the subtle confine between dutiful resentment and unprecedented malice (or rather, the lack of).

The young woman remained where she stood, declining his bait. It would be foolish for her to attack when there wasn't even an opening to be found on him. Then again, it would be foolish to simply wait for him to spot hers, and so she entertained another option.

"...I apologize if I've disturbed you, but I don't wish to fight."

Elfé surmised that her words would have little effect on the other, and maintained her guard. She also speculated that this confrontation wouldn't end as fortunately as it had, previously. However, with or without Zirconiade, her swordsmanship and materia were not to be taken lightly. If Sephiroth was as reasonable as she'd once known him to be, he would understand. (Of course, deep inside she could already feel the Lifestream calling for her.)

If she was defeated, she would merely be returned to where she belonged. And every time she drew her blade, she let that logic erase her fear.