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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.
no subject
[He referred to, of course the entire collar checkup routine. The several times he's woken up in here after another unsuccessful attempt to boycott it, the orderly way everyone waits their turn here to go and be at the mercy of the Tower for however long it takes. Sephiroth recalls with a sour taste in the back of his mouth that time that he hadn't even realized he'd attended - the line that had been crossed with regards to the control over himself that Sephiroth so tightly clung onto.]
Don't you find that ironic?
no subject
It isn't...to remind us we're captive. Without it, we cannot live.
no subject
[He'd had this conversation before in the Dorms, theories about exactly what the collars were for. Sephiroth couldn't stand what it represented, much rather than the fact it might be keeping them alive. To be someone elses puppet; that was the greatest insult. It still made him feel sick thinking about it too much.]
no subject
no subject
[He couldn't help but to scowl.]
I can't accept that.
no subject
The collars may be unrelated to that. I know the marks in Meridian certainly didn't grant their entities those abilities. They may look it, but if anything, it's the lack of openness that marks us as captive, not these collars. I wouldn't begrudge what allows us to live.
no subject
And now he was waiting, free and willing for the first time to have it checked up. Sephiroth pondered whether this was a sign that he was starting to accept it, or whether this was a direct consequence of their punishment last night. His head still spun with thoughts after that, but was complying once unacceptable? Would it lead to him 'getting over' it? It was yet to be discovered.]
I don't believe that. They are linked to us physically - like an extra part of your body. How else could they control us like they do?
no subject
Dax told me it's done using systems that were meant to heal us. But others...abuse it. It's like using medicine as poison...
no subject
[Learning from experience, Sephiroth was very much the type not to believe in anything until he'd had first hand proof of it himself. That was just who he was. Sure he'd listen to what others said, and to a certain extent there was indeed something to be said for the many others that attended these checkups without comment. Sephiroth had discounted them as weak willed individuals but what if there were another reason, he was starting to appreciate the complexity of the Tower now. Maybe that was another reason he was here this time rather than trying to dodge red-collars.]
no subject
*Enoch was very people-oriented - if the person telling him didn't strike him as dishonest, like Dax, or even Jason in certain situations (he seemed genuinely interested in discussing the phantoms. Why would he lie then?), then he was inclined to believe them until proven wrong. He tended to take people on faith a lot of the time, and that was probably why his reasoning was proving a nuisance to Sephiroth at the moment.*
no subject
[Certainly seemed these two had a very different outlook on life in general. There wasn't much point Sephiroth arguing his point to someone who couldn't by their very nature, accept it. Besides, he wasn't one to so readily spill all of his thoughts.]
Certainly something to think about.