towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters: AU3 Revolver Ocelot, Neal Cassidy, and YOU
Setting: Around the tower
Format: Starting action
Summary: Event catch-all
Warnings: trauma, possible character death

Revolver Ocelot

[The whispers in her ear didn't stop. It was maddening. Horrible. Liquid's voice was the loudest one. Demanding to tell him why she had let him die. It was her fault that the world was in ruin. Had she not ruined his plans, had she not set him up to fall, he would have succeeded.

The shadow child using his voice stood in her way, staring her down. Ocelot couldn't speak. There was nothing to say.

In the months since she had arrived, she had come to deeply, deeply regret the murder of her own son. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing. But there were other voices, too. Solidus too spoke to her. You called me son, he said, angrily. Accusingly. And yet you left me behind! You said that we would destroy the Patriots! You liar! You'll never know what happened! What should have happened!

In the silence, the old woman collapsed to her knees, hugging herself, fighting to hold back tears she didn't know she could still shed.]

Neal Cassidy

[Emma was following him everywhere. It was fate's way of telling him just how badly he had screwed up. Telling him how she had been abandoned by him once again. That he was a coward. How she could see the family resemblance. He deserved every bit of it. Emma has a right to be angry.

He never wanted to leave her again. But here? Now? He hadn't had a choice. If she could somehow be here too, if Henry could be here... he would have been happier. Worst of all, though, was the shadow on his opposite side.

Henry.

The small boy that he barely knew, wondering aloud in a small, sad voice, if he ever should have looked for his father to begin with.]

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They must like me.

[Sephiroth smirks at that thought but it's quickly lost as the whispers all around him certainly try their hardest to crush his amusement quickly.

He stops and turns to Neal. Taking in details, this guy doesn't really seem to be doing all that bad at all so far.]

Those two must be close to you.

Apparently.

[He looks at all of the shadows, wondering vaguely if he's going crazy, or if this guy is also hearing the voices of those close to him. He chooses not to ask, though.

At the statement, he shifts uncomfortably.]

You could say that.

[Neal would be right, though Sephiroth is doing an excellent job of selectively not-hearing. It's easy enough at this point in the week - he's dealt with almost everything they have to say with him at least once in his own mind and thought himself around their accusations.

Sharp as ever, Sephiroth notices Neal's slight shift in movement.]

As close as ghosts can be to those that they might torment.

[Ghosts. Yes, that's it. That's all they are after all, they're just ghosts trying to break him. It wasn't going to work, despite the slight lighter violet of Sephiroth's own collar.]

[He nods, slowly, trying not to pay attention to Emma's constant hatred being hurled at him.]

Ghosts from our world, sent to torment us.

They sure don't act like the people they sound like.

[Sephiroth wouldn't know what it's like, none of his shadows are anyone that he ever remembers being close with. Despite a few that would claim it, that irritate him with their insistence. Old enemies, abused souls only. It didn't matter, they were dead and how fitting that it only be his soul that was saved.

He regards Neal carefully but doesn't offer any further condolence to the stranger.]

Of course not. Which raises another question: how real are they really?

[He shrugs wearily.]

The monsters are more real than us, aren't they?

But are these ones? Maybe they're like the animals. Meant to make us despair.

And so these are more real than us, apparently. As far as shadows can be considered real.

[The Glamour does glitch quite terribly at the moment. Leading Sephiroth also to at least believe in these whispers enough for them to prove more of an annoyance than perhaps they might otherwise.]

There is a lot to be said for belief, perhaps.

[He sighs, nodding slowly. His hand rubbing at his temple.]

Yeah.

Yeah, I guess so. The real things, huh?

[He looks to the shadow that sounds like Emma, a horrible pang wells up in his chest as he does.]

Well they aren't made of film, that's for sure.

[Sephiroth follows his gaze to the shadow that Neal looks at and then looks around again at his own congregation of souls - as if daring them to whisper something. It turns his stomach, their grinning white mouths spewing his own questions back at him.

What is reality. What is Destiny. What was it all for?

Sephiroth's brow creases in a frown before being willed away from his face in defiance til the end.]

No. We'd be able to tell if they were made of film.

[He drowns.]

We've got to fight this.

What are you suggesting?

[The first thing Sephiroth did was try to fight these monsters off after all.]

[He doesn't even know. His immediate reaction to fight wasn't even realistic, and deep down he knew that.]

I... I don't know.

Edited 2013-08-26 23:42 (UTC)

[Sephiroth pauses and looks down, around his own congregation of grins. So much for this man being useful. His eyes narrow accordingly as he looks back to Neal, unimpressed with his answer.]

Seems to me that we've all got baggage we need to get rid of.

[Without another comment Sephiroth sweeps off, with his baggage of forgotten souls, down the corridor away from Neal.]