There were many ways to wake up and Sephiroth had experienced most of them; passing out on his desk after a long night of paperwork and finding a blanket over his shoulders after being laid on the couch by Angeal and Genesis; jolting upwards after a nightmare had taken hold of those scant few hours of sleep; even a hangover induced desire to burn
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There was an undeniable charisma that embraced the silver-tressed swordsman, a sheer force of presence that even a blind person could not have missed. He had been beloved by the underlings for his calm and courteous way of doing things, had been the man that had cared for those men underneath his command. Sephiroth had indeed spent time learning how best to orate for the masses, had been the child-General that had won the hearts of the nation and left him a legend that would never be surpassed. Hero or villain, Sephiroth had carved his mark into the Planet's surface ( ... )
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