neverbeamemory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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towerofanimus2012-12-08 05:54 pm
neverbeamemory) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-08 05:54 pm
Entry tags:
008 | Fallout
Characters: Sephiroth [Open]
Setting: December 8th: Dormitory 03-02, Floor 2 & Floor 5
Format: Prose but can switch to Action
Summary: After End of the Angry Mob Plot Sephiroth feels somewhat deflated but no less bitter afterwards.
Warnings: Sephiroth: always threat of violence.
0204hrs December 8th - Dormitory 03-02
It was like falling within a dream and then waking as you hit the floor.
Piercing green eyes shot open in time with a sharp intake of breath, wide and hyper-actively looking around in the darkness. A heartbeat later and Sephiroth was sat bolt upright in his bed making out the details that he could in the gloom. Silver pauldrons sat undisturbed on top of the chest at the bottom of the bed as they would usually, his long leather trench-coat draped across the end of the bed.
It could have all been a bad dream, but for his shaking as if from the cold. He never shook from the cold. Strong muscled arms he couldn't remember resting back on after first sitting up shook just enough for him to notice this oddity. Sephiroth shifted his weight forward again and crossed his arms across his chest - each hand rubbing the bicep of the other arm similar to the way a normal person might keep warm.
He'd stopped rubbing, suspiciously narrowing his eyes at his own thoughts and feelings; as he apparently just held himself in a hug. Silver hair fell down like a great curtain across one side of him as restlessly Sephiroth continued to peer around in the darkness. Going through the events of the last three days in his mind again and again; scraping with a wire toothbrush at the festering mess of fresh memories inside.
It hadn't been a dream.
Early Afternoon December 8th - Infirmary
Like a bad hangover, Sephiroth didn't feel much like having his bi-weekly face off with the red collars today. For once, just this once he constantly reminded himself, he would attend the collar checkup today. Just on this one occasion he would submit. He would sit and wait, ignore the burning of every fibre of his body reminding him that this was wrong - that this was unacceptable. He was stronger than this.
The administrator lift looked so desolate, so un-used. The Infirmary itself had been restored to it's former spotless condition, but knowing how he'd indulged here Sephiroth couldn't resist to smirk as he watched the drones go about their tasks while he waited for his turn.
"Damn you do clean up so well." He muttered to himself mostly, not caring really who else heard him though.
Later Afternoon December 8th - Floor 5
A leather gloved hand reached out as if to touch the dead world of Gaia but found only the screen depicting it. Through lowered eyelids Sephiroth gazed in the hope that some understanding would come. He had never visited this floor before and just looked, forcing back the stirring wetness which stung in the depths of the corners of his eyes; he rubbed at them now and again. After all, he hadn't slept well.
If heand Hojo had the right of it and this had been in some way or form his doing, then why was looking at this screen making him feel this way. Of all things he should be feeling it should be the usual outrage that he experienced when he considered that their keepers here had stolen him away from the victory that was rightly his. The power of the Lifestream that should be coursing through his veins even as he observed the dead world on the other side of the screen sure did seem to resonate, like it should, with what he was seeing.
Whatever that power was, Lifestream or Jenova; it only told him one thing. He could taste the dust, smell the death and know the screaming pain of the entire planet. He wasn't a Cetra at all, but he might have imagined that this was a similar connection. The amount of his darkness that he'd infected the Lifestream with, was it a surprise that it now produced this link?
What he didn't understand, was what had drawn him here to gaze so unrelenting into a screen. He had a good idea now, of the extent to which their owners could realistically bend and distort the reality here - he wasn't going to believe any of it. But every cell of his was tricked into accepting it.
The developing headache might well be permanent.
Setting: December 8th: Dormitory 03-02, Floor 2 & Floor 5
Format: Prose but can switch to Action
Summary: After End of the Angry Mob Plot Sephiroth feels somewhat deflated but no less bitter afterwards.
Warnings: Sephiroth: always threat of violence.
0204hrs December 8th - Dormitory 03-02
It was like falling within a dream and then waking as you hit the floor.
Piercing green eyes shot open in time with a sharp intake of breath, wide and hyper-actively looking around in the darkness. A heartbeat later and Sephiroth was sat bolt upright in his bed making out the details that he could in the gloom. Silver pauldrons sat undisturbed on top of the chest at the bottom of the bed as they would usually, his long leather trench-coat draped across the end of the bed.
It could have all been a bad dream, but for his shaking as if from the cold. He never shook from the cold. Strong muscled arms he couldn't remember resting back on after first sitting up shook just enough for him to notice this oddity. Sephiroth shifted his weight forward again and crossed his arms across his chest - each hand rubbing the bicep of the other arm similar to the way a normal person might keep warm.
He'd stopped rubbing, suspiciously narrowing his eyes at his own thoughts and feelings; as he apparently just held himself in a hug. Silver hair fell down like a great curtain across one side of him as restlessly Sephiroth continued to peer around in the darkness. Going through the events of the last three days in his mind again and again; scraping with a wire toothbrush at the festering mess of fresh memories inside.
It hadn't been a dream.
Early Afternoon December 8th - Infirmary
Like a bad hangover, Sephiroth didn't feel much like having his bi-weekly face off with the red collars today. For once, just this once he constantly reminded himself, he would attend the collar checkup today. Just on this one occasion he would submit. He would sit and wait, ignore the burning of every fibre of his body reminding him that this was wrong - that this was unacceptable. He was stronger than this.
The administrator lift looked so desolate, so un-used. The Infirmary itself had been restored to it's former spotless condition, but knowing how he'd indulged here Sephiroth couldn't resist to smirk as he watched the drones go about their tasks while he waited for his turn.
"Damn you do clean up so well." He muttered to himself mostly, not caring really who else heard him though.
Later Afternoon December 8th - Floor 5
A leather gloved hand reached out as if to touch the dead world of Gaia but found only the screen depicting it. Through lowered eyelids Sephiroth gazed in the hope that some understanding would come. He had never visited this floor before and just looked, forcing back the stirring wetness which stung in the depths of the corners of his eyes; he rubbed at them now and again. After all, he hadn't slept well.
If he
Whatever that power was, Lifestream or Jenova; it only told him one thing. He could taste the dust, smell the death and know the screaming pain of the entire planet. He wasn't a Cetra at all, but he might have imagined that this was a similar connection. The amount of his darkness that he'd infected the Lifestream with, was it a surprise that it now produced this link?
What he didn't understand, was what had drawn him here to gaze so unrelenting into a screen. He had a good idea now, of the extent to which their owners could realistically bend and distort the reality here - he wasn't going to believe any of it. But every cell of his was tricked into accepting it.
The developing headache might well be permanent.
Dorm 3-02
Upon awakening, Sephiroth may hear the sound of machinery just close by. Against the wall is a large, mechanical bed with all manners of wires and lights attached to it. A small, fat, blonde-haired little boy is climbing the machine and using a screwdriver and other tools to adjust its settings. At the center inside a glass capsule is the form of an aging old man, with sickly skin, that looks strikingly familiar to the boy. Aside from the natural features of an old man, such as wrinkles and white hair, they look exactly alike.
The old man is strapped onto the bed. Wires from the machine have been hooked around his body, acting as part of the bed's life support system. This would make a strange, uncomfortable, and mildly awkward sight to many normal people.
Porky turns his head over to the direction of the other silver-haired man. Giving a few gasps and deep breaths, he tries to speak.
"... Rise and shine, neighbor. Welcome to the world of the living."
Re: Dorm 3-02
Sephiroth rubbed his eyes, trying to remember clearly if he'd seen this mechanized bed last time he'd been in the dormitory - or if this arrival had appeared whilst he'd been indisposed.
And as if it wasn't hard enough to sleep on a normal evening, Sephiroth hoped that the whirring, chirping, clanging sounds were not something they were all going to have to live with now. Enough things went bump in the night around here.
"Right." He near whispered, either being polite bearing in mind other sleeping dorm-mates or simply not finding his voice fully in this instant.
no subject
His doppelganger gives a salute by pumping his fist into the air. As the old man brushes it off, it leaves the room. Coughing out a lung once, Porky gasps for breath and pauses before continuing the conversation.
"Crazy things were happening outside. Not that I haven't seen crazier. On a scale of 1-10... I'd give put this somewhere at a 2 if I'm being generous."
no subject
Great, not only was that machine going to make extra noise but the old man had a cough as well. Sephiroth had only just gotten used to sharing a sleeping space with other people, this was certainly set up to try his patience even further!
"I've been-" He paused, knowing that Porky has to be a new arrival to the Tower "pre-occupied for the last couple of days, but you'll find monsters tend to prowl all over during the night time."
no subject
Except for the part where Porky was the one who created all those monsters. The old man breathes a little heavily before getting a hold of himself. Poor health in exchange for immortality could be less annoying than it was. Sometimes, he can't even keep his heartbeat normalized. It's always faster than it needs to be.
"... Though I don't suppose, heh... Monsters are the only things about the place worth worrying about."
no subject
If he was anything like Sephiroth that is, which he wasn't obviously. There was no way he going to be able to keep up if he was strapped to a bed permanently. He wondered how on earth the old man is going to survive being stuck in the dormitory - the contraption didn't look all that movable. Safely anyway.
"Did you read your letter yet?"
no subject
He smiles wickedly, unable to contain his glee with him himself.
"It's fantastic, isn't it?"
no subject
well early actuallyand even though he had apparently only just awoken he felt the reality of tiredness shake the room. Blinking it back successfully he quirked an eyebrow across the room again.]"That depends purely on where you came from."