Hold onto chance, lest we bleed ourselves. Then save for the pets; they're the loneliest.
characters: Sephiroth & OPEN!
location: Town Center.
time: As night falls.
rating: R, hurr. Blood, death, violence.
open/closed: Open like a whore's-- /shuts up.
summary: After this thread, the violence welled up in Sephiroth spills over and he takes bloody vengeance on Solace. Good thing those soldier guys can't fly, huh? Already dead are Ritsuka and Momiji.
other: feel free to use bracket-style; i just wanted to get this down.
He could still hear her. Worlds away, and her voice was still a dull, hazy, and whispered voice full of static cling and miasma that reached out, tendril soft to spread toxin into every crevice of his mind. It snuck in, splashing over sanity with black paint and appropriate haste, like a parasite eating a man alive from the inside. It corrupted him, stank of it, and there was a slowness that hadn’t been there before to the way his vision shifted. Maybe he had sped up. Maybe the world had slowed down. Maybe it was just perception. Either way, the thickness and depth that the world had taken left him parched and thirsty for appropriate judgment.
How dare they take him away from Her. She needed him. She begged for him to come back to her and, mournfully, he took to the skies. A gateway. A door back. A ceasing to the magic that brought and bound him from Lifestream to Solace, and he searched the stage of destruction below for the world’s own Lifestream. The congruent flow of the universe. Surely he could use it to travel home, just as make below the crust went from one point to another.
Knowledge of the Ancients. She told him, pouring in in silken silver and mercury (bringing it’s poison, too), and he knew … this …
This was why he was “created”. Angeal and Genesis? Imposters. Lowly beings not worthy of Mother’s cells, a decaying (… literally) left over from ‘his time as a human’. Already he despised it, that … life before crucifixion and resurrection.
“Mother…”
He whispered her name appreciatively, the coy way she chuckled in his mind, the slither of snakes in his ears. His gaze went heavenward, hating the sky, even if it was not the one she had fallen from. It was a human, a horrible sky nonetheless.
He would sacrifice the sky for her. The proof was in the way the dark clouds coiled, tendril-thin and swirling in the darkness of the sky.
You’ll never be alone again, Mother.
She soothed him with soft words that sounded so smooth they could have been a lullaby. He closed his eyes, only briefly, reopening the slit pupils to look down at the destruction already caused. That gaping wound in the earth was not his contrivance, but it was fitting just the same. Already two bodies of the foreigners of Solace littered the ground like the trash they were, a single black feather resting near their heavily-lacerated bodies (in fact, even the little catboy’s head lie off his shoulders).
But Sephiroth himself had no wing. Not yet.
“Bring your countrymen, your leaders, your foolish ‘scholars’,” and that was the heaviest scoff. “Find me a way to Her.”
location: Town Center.
time: As night falls.
rating: R, hurr. Blood, death, violence.
open/closed: Open like a whore's-- /shuts up.
summary: After this thread, the violence welled up in Sephiroth spills over and he takes bloody vengeance on Solace. Good thing those soldier guys can't fly, huh? Already dead are Ritsuka and Momiji.
other: feel free to use bracket-style; i just wanted to get this down.
He could still hear her. Worlds away, and her voice was still a dull, hazy, and whispered voice full of static cling and miasma that reached out, tendril soft to spread toxin into every crevice of his mind. It snuck in, splashing over sanity with black paint and appropriate haste, like a parasite eating a man alive from the inside. It corrupted him, stank of it, and there was a slowness that hadn’t been there before to the way his vision shifted. Maybe he had sped up. Maybe the world had slowed down. Maybe it was just perception. Either way, the thickness and depth that the world had taken left him parched and thirsty for appropriate judgment.
How dare they take him away from Her. She needed him. She begged for him to come back to her and, mournfully, he took to the skies. A gateway. A door back. A ceasing to the magic that brought and bound him from Lifestream to Solace, and he searched the stage of destruction below for the world’s own Lifestream. The congruent flow of the universe. Surely he could use it to travel home, just as make below the crust went from one point to another.
Knowledge of the Ancients. She told him, pouring in in silken silver and mercury (bringing it’s poison, too), and he knew … this …
This was why he was “created”. Angeal and Genesis? Imposters. Lowly beings not worthy of Mother’s cells, a decaying (… literally) left over from ‘his time as a human’. Already he despised it, that … life before crucifixion and resurrection.
“Mother…”
He whispered her name appreciatively, the coy way she chuckled in his mind, the slither of snakes in his ears. His gaze went heavenward, hating the sky, even if it was not the one she had fallen from. It was a human, a horrible sky nonetheless.
He would sacrifice the sky for her. The proof was in the way the dark clouds coiled, tendril-thin and swirling in the darkness of the sky.
You’ll never be alone again, Mother.
She soothed him with soft words that sounded so smooth they could have been a lullaby. He closed his eyes, only briefly, reopening the slit pupils to look down at the destruction already caused. That gaping wound in the earth was not his contrivance, but it was fitting just the same. Already two bodies of the foreigners of Solace littered the ground like the trash they were, a single black feather resting near their heavily-lacerated bodies (in fact, even the little catboy’s head lie off his shoulders).
But Sephiroth himself had no wing. Not yet.
“Bring your countrymen, your leaders, your foolish ‘scholars’,” and that was the heaviest scoff. “Find me a way to Her.”