Sephiroth (age 7) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pinnaculum) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-19 08:46 pm
pinnaculum) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-19 08:46 pm
Some say the world will end in fire
Characters: Sephiroth and open!
Setting: Floors 73, 50, 56
Format: Starting in action, but I will match you.
Summary: Sephiroth deals with his feelings about the event, and also with his regain: a Fire Materia.
Warnings: Burning things?
I: Floor 73:
[In the cold of this snowy floor, not far from the ruined castle, there's suddenly a warm bloom of fire. At first, its cause is difficult to isolate. That is because, as small as he is, dressed in his gray clothes, with his silver hair, Sephiroth doesn't stand out in the snowy landscape. But the boy is standing facing where the fire appeared, his arm stretched out toward it. He may well have had something to do with it. Before he lowers his arm, it happens again, another red hot burst moving through the air.
Fire blossoms over and over, each red bloom as hot as the one before it, hanging in the air for a moment before fading and melting the snow beneath. It lights up the grim, gray scene.]
II: Floor 50:
[Sephiroth is seated on the marble floor of the stadium-like space. He's staring ahead, his gaze unfocused. It doesn't seem that his thoughts are quite there, unusual for the young warrior who is usually present and alert.
He was glad to receive the new Materia. He'd been tired of only having defensive and healing Materia, as they were all he'd been allowed to have back on Gaia. Yet his new weapon hasn't cheered him up a great deal. Even the usually largely inexpressive Sephiroth looks noticeably pensive.
Slowly, he puts out a hand. A flame flickers along it and out into the air before him. Anyone can use Materia, but there are varying degrees of control, and Sephiroth is especially skilled. He always has been. The Materia is still new and hasn't gained all the strength it will have, but he can already use it to make either a little fire or a lot. For now, he creates just a little, thoughtfully watching the flames as they appear beyond the tips of his fingers.
He had been experimented on again, had been forced to act in ways he hadn't wanted, unable to speak or control himself. It had been like being back in the lab. This place is like the lab, only everyone here is the experiment, not only him. In some ways, it's not really that different. It's just another lab, that's all. That thought doesn't appeal to him. He frowns.]
III: Floor 56:
[The hospital floor is even more obviously like the lab, like home. Maybe that is why he's standing here now, staring at the beds. They're like the bed where he slept for so much of his life. When the lights flicker out, and the hospital's illusory horrors appear, Sephiroth doesn't so much as blink. He sees them, but they don't frighten him. He knows they're not real.
He puts out a hand to touch one of the mattresses. A moment later, it's on fire.
Sephiroth draws back his hand and stands watching it burn. There's a colder than usual look in his eyes.]
Setting: Floors 73, 50, 56
Format: Starting in action, but I will match you.
Summary: Sephiroth deals with his feelings about the event, and also with his regain: a Fire Materia.
Warnings: Burning things?
I: Floor 73:
[In the cold of this snowy floor, not far from the ruined castle, there's suddenly a warm bloom of fire. At first, its cause is difficult to isolate. That is because, as small as he is, dressed in his gray clothes, with his silver hair, Sephiroth doesn't stand out in the snowy landscape. But the boy is standing facing where the fire appeared, his arm stretched out toward it. He may well have had something to do with it. Before he lowers his arm, it happens again, another red hot burst moving through the air.
Fire blossoms over and over, each red bloom as hot as the one before it, hanging in the air for a moment before fading and melting the snow beneath. It lights up the grim, gray scene.]
II: Floor 50:
[Sephiroth is seated on the marble floor of the stadium-like space. He's staring ahead, his gaze unfocused. It doesn't seem that his thoughts are quite there, unusual for the young warrior who is usually present and alert.
He was glad to receive the new Materia. He'd been tired of only having defensive and healing Materia, as they were all he'd been allowed to have back on Gaia. Yet his new weapon hasn't cheered him up a great deal. Even the usually largely inexpressive Sephiroth looks noticeably pensive.
Slowly, he puts out a hand. A flame flickers along it and out into the air before him. Anyone can use Materia, but there are varying degrees of control, and Sephiroth is especially skilled. He always has been. The Materia is still new and hasn't gained all the strength it will have, but he can already use it to make either a little fire or a lot. For now, he creates just a little, thoughtfully watching the flames as they appear beyond the tips of his fingers.
He had been experimented on again, had been forced to act in ways he hadn't wanted, unable to speak or control himself. It had been like being back in the lab. This place is like the lab, only everyone here is the experiment, not only him. In some ways, it's not really that different. It's just another lab, that's all. That thought doesn't appeal to him. He frowns.]
III: Floor 56:
[The hospital floor is even more obviously like the lab, like home. Maybe that is why he's standing here now, staring at the beds. They're like the bed where he slept for so much of his life. When the lights flicker out, and the hospital's illusory horrors appear, Sephiroth doesn't so much as blink. He sees them, but they don't frighten him. He knows they're not real.
He puts out a hand to touch one of the mattresses. A moment later, it's on fire.
Sephiroth draws back his hand and stands watching it burn. There's a colder than usual look in his eyes.]
Floor 73
He wonders if this is not what Camelot is, now. If it is not even less. It seems they left no mark upon the world but a handful of legends-- his own tale of base passion and dishonor among them. Legends are seldom accurate. But perhaps they are not meant to be.
It had been Golden, though-- Camelot in its flowering.
Now the snow falls softly, inexorably covering all.
Into his reverie comes Light.
He has no wish for company, but he moves towards it all the same-- in only on his way to the door.
But here is Sephiroth, seemingly pulling Fire from the Air. It paints the snow like molten gold.
Lancelot observes the set of the boy's shoulders, but cannot see his face.
More than a child, surely-- but a lonely child, still.
He is tired still, after his most recent Death. Perhaps this one's company would not be so hard to bear.]
Sephiroth.
no subject
Lancelot.
[He hadn't realized the man was here, but he doesn't mind being surprised, more admiring of the large man's stealth than anything else. Lancelot had impressed him before, and Sephiroth isn't easy to impress.
He takes a few steps toward the knight, over the snow.]
Hello.
no subject
Today, many things are altered from their normal courses and ways. Sephiroth among them, for there are unknown currents shifting behind the young face.]
Well met-- though perhaps it is not a greeting suited to the day or place, still it is suited to the company.
I saw your light while I wandered. It was a most fierce and glorious thing.
May I know how it is pulled from the air so?