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towerofanimus2013-09-08 02:43 pm
neverbeamemory) wrote in towerofanimus2013-09-08 02:43 pm
Entry tags:
Log 025 | Into new, unseen horizons...
Characters: Sephiroth & Open [Excepting A]
Setting: In prompts below; B - E could be at any point during the w/c 8th September, please date for orders sake!
Format: Bit of both. Feel free to tag in what is most comfortable.
Summary: A: Individuation Fallout - Sephiroth returns a day late after death no. 10 to find someone has been waiting. Others: Various studying, working and thinking; the pressure is now most definitely on.
Warnings: Sephiroth is very prickly around science-associated anything. Otherwise, usual violence associated warnings apply.
C: Gymnasium Floor 39 [Open]
[Sephiroth and the Gymnasium have somewhat of a off-and-on relationship. There had been a time, of more routine excursions, where he could have been found here more often than not. Back when betterment of the physical form he'd obtained for himself prior to being brought to the Tower was more important than anything else. In the face of the Glamoured reality, such concerns were not justified anymore.
Still, as vital as his work with the collar liquid is, Sephiroth will not sit and study endlessly; all things considered after all it would be dangerous to. He refuses to become that man whom he hates so much, and his physical training does well to ensure that he will not slip that way. It helps to reassure him greatly of his own identity, and has the added bonus of venting his pent up frustrations not only of his continued imprisonment in the Tower - but of angry impulse that might otherwise be exploded in one of the many faces of those that, by right, he shouldn't even be involving himself with but had found himself having to accept.
There were always the monsters to train himself to be better against, after all.
Sephiroth can be found pounding bare fists powerfully into one of the punchbags with strength enough to crack the knuckles of most others, running laps around the track, or bench pressing - lain across one of benches once he's verified it as safe to use that day. Always dressed appropriately for the exercise, only in leather pants and boots with his long silver hair braided back out of the way - though armor and jacket are never far away. It's never known when they could be needed.]
D: Sauna Floor 77 [Open]
In the dry heat of the Sauna it seemed that Sephiroth had finally found somewhere quiet enough to recollect his thoughts. The hot air created some sort of bubble around his senses after a while and he found himself drawn into feeling as relaxed as he could ever allow himself to feel - though never letting go of the very sore fact that he's still imprisoned here.
At least he was now going in the right direction. Who would have thought that so many would have listened to his views over the network and then been compelled by those same words to act upon them. The very personal notion that it had been his doing does wonders for Sephiroth's ego, and the fact that he'd managed (though not without some irritation) to obtain a whole tank of violet collar fluid for himself only added to that. What weighed heavily on Sephiroth's mind now was the inescapable fact that he couldn't do this alone. Said tank was being kept hidden on the strength of his shaky trust with another, the science project which now surrounded it (and him) relied also on others he didn't know at all. Not to mention the additional reconnaissance he would forever keep close to his chest, in Sheba and her books. Too many hands, each additional level to a pyramid increased not only the chance of it's ultimate failure, but the gravity such a failure would have.
Not to mention the sour taste the science project alone brought to the back of his mouth every single time he turned his attention towards the study or work. A very particular part of his hatred was forever reserved for scientists, and now through his own choice, and the utter determination he has to put himself ahead, he was having to swallow that and just do - easier said than done with an over-active mind like his. He thought he was holding uphis facade very well, considering. However strained at times, at least so far the others involved hadn't pried and he hoped that it would stay that way.
Sephiroth sighed towards the ceiling as he reclined back on the wooden ledge, spilling silver hair all over one side of the bench from underneath him. Gazing up into the ceiling of the room, though forever he would keep his ears open for the sound of anyone, or any thing that might approach him here.
E: Violet Collar Fluid Research - Study Room Floor 18 [Open, even to not!Violet team]
[Equipment availability allowing and at carefully intended random points in the week, after craftily losing his supervisor, Sephiroth spends the odd few-blocks of hours at one of a handful of locations known to those operating in the tower-wide science project. Though at this early stage there is only observation and notes regarding what can be ascertained from a droplet under these advanced microscopes. The technology of which, and therefore the visible details under various settings, is very much beyond anything Sephiroth has even seen before. If only-
-he scowls as his thought train circulates back again to that man. Sitting back from the microscope for a few moments while he recollects his thoughts, peers over a few open pages of textbooks strewn around to reinforce them and then proceeds to continue with his work. Sephiroth prefers to take his own notes, as well, as evidenced by the words starting to appear scrawled on paper (even if it is really film) nearby.
He is careful, every time to only bring the most necessary of a sample from the tank that remains in hiding; it would not do to spend all of their available resource in discovering the facts only to then not have enough to develop anything that might counter the unwanted effects within the fluid which courses around and througheveryone's his soul.]
Setting: In prompts below; B - E could be at any point during the w/c 8th September, please date for orders sake!
Format: Bit of both. Feel free to tag in what is most comfortable.
Summary: A: Individuation Fallout - Sephiroth returns a day late after death no. 10 to find someone has been waiting. Others: Various studying, working and thinking; the pressure is now most definitely on.
Warnings: Sephiroth is very prickly around science-associated anything. Otherwise, usual violence associated warnings apply.
A; Dormitory 03-02. Backdated 19th August [Closed: Ishtar (xroyal_bratx ) and later-Darres (queensgeneral )]
Mother.
He'd heard her. Just before it had all gone black.
He'd been floating again, outside of his body. There had been a cage this time but his soul couldn't move.
Sound slipped first from the enveloping blackness of sleep paralysis. One whole day and one whole hour later than usual Sephiroth drew a stronger breath, a waking breath. He thought he could hear someone else close by, almost too close by in fact. Sephiroth's still-closed eyelids twitched and tentatively he thought to flex his extremities. After somewhat of a pause while the rest of the paralysis faded it was revealed that only one set of toes felt tangible yet - all three of his other limbs were still gripped in numbness. That same pins and needles that no matter how much he moved said limbs wouldn't expedite it away, Sephiroth knows as he's dealt with it before. There was nothing to do but to wait it out, concerning as it was to note the progression of it from two limbs to three. What would happen when his entire body was numb for a while after being transplanted into a new vessel? The main concern in not knowing if it was intentional on Jason's part, or if it indicated something else.
It would be even more of a failure on his part, to have not realized his freedom - indeed obtained somehow for himself a new, real body before it came to any more longer-lasting effects of having died.
Then came that sound again. So close it was almost as if it was in front of his face. Sephiroth's eyebrows dropped into a frown as he felt a weight on his chest. That sound. Someone sobbing quietly. Why would anyone be here right now, and crying? It didn't make any sense. Eyelids parted and Sephiroth peered down onto the top of a somewhat-but-not-too-familiar parting of hair-
"Ishtar-?"
B: Research Library/Study Room Floor 19/18 [Open]
[Advanced Physics, Chemistry and Biology are just some of the associated titles lifted from the shelves of Floor 19 and brought down one set of stairs to the Study floor on occasion. Though it's not so much to refresh his knowledge in light of his current responsibilities, however it might seem. Sephiroth already knows all of the knowledge, skills and deduction that will be required in breaking down and identifying the elements that make up the enigmatic violet collar fluid. He could conjure methods and generate theories to be tested all in his own brilliant (though never to be referred as scientific) mind.
What bothers him, immensely, is how exactly he has this knowledge. There is a lot to be said for the vast knowledge he accumulated in life and beyond it, from the Lifestream, but without a logical foundation from which to work from he's relying on what could be an entirely flawed medium; his memories. Not that studying any of this from books available here could be at all applied to their subject matter - indeed he wonders what use anything biological could have in a Tower of Illusions - but as the piles of books on the table around him increase, at least Sephiroth could start to feel more secure in his knowledge.
That is, if he didn't think too much about his 'father'. If only he could stop remembering that laugh he'd heard in one of the psychelysis phantoms-]
xroyal_bratx ) and later-Darres (queensgeneral )]Mother.
He'd heard her. Just before it had all gone black.
He'd been floating again, outside of his body. There had been a cage this time but his soul couldn't move.
Sound slipped first from the enveloping blackness of sleep paralysis. One whole day and one whole hour later than usual Sephiroth drew a stronger breath, a waking breath. He thought he could hear someone else close by, almost too close by in fact. Sephiroth's still-closed eyelids twitched and tentatively he thought to flex his extremities. After somewhat of a pause while the rest of the paralysis faded it was revealed that only one set of toes felt tangible yet - all three of his other limbs were still gripped in numbness. That same pins and needles that no matter how much he moved said limbs wouldn't expedite it away, Sephiroth knows as he's dealt with it before. There was nothing to do but to wait it out, concerning as it was to note the progression of it from two limbs to three. What would happen when his entire body was numb for a while after being transplanted into a new vessel? The main concern in not knowing if it was intentional on Jason's part, or if it indicated something else.
It would be even more of a failure on his part, to have not realized his freedom - indeed obtained somehow for himself a new, real body before it came to any more longer-lasting effects of having died.
Then came that sound again. So close it was almost as if it was in front of his face. Sephiroth's eyebrows dropped into a frown as he felt a weight on his chest. That sound. Someone sobbing quietly. Why would anyone be here right now, and crying? It didn't make any sense. Eyelids parted and Sephiroth peered down onto the top of a somewhat-but-not-too-familiar parting of hair-
"Ishtar-?"
B: Research Library/Study Room Floor 19/18 [Open]
[Advanced Physics, Chemistry and Biology are just some of the associated titles lifted from the shelves of Floor 19 and brought down one set of stairs to the Study floor on occasion. Though it's not so much to refresh his knowledge in light of his current responsibilities, however it might seem. Sephiroth already knows all of the knowledge, skills and deduction that will be required in breaking down and identifying the elements that make up the enigmatic violet collar fluid. He could conjure methods and generate theories to be tested all in his own brilliant (though never to be referred as scientific) mind.
What bothers him, immensely, is how exactly he has this knowledge. There is a lot to be said for the vast knowledge he accumulated in life and beyond it, from the Lifestream, but without a logical foundation from which to work from he's relying on what could be an entirely flawed medium; his memories. Not that studying any of this from books available here could be at all applied to their subject matter - indeed he wonders what use anything biological could have in a Tower of Illusions - but as the piles of books on the table around him increase, at least Sephiroth could start to feel more secure in his knowledge.
That is, if he didn't think too much about his 'father'. If only he could stop remembering that laugh he'd heard in one of the psychelysis phantoms-]
C: Gymnasium Floor 39 [Open]
[Sephiroth and the Gymnasium have somewhat of a off-and-on relationship. There had been a time, of more routine excursions, where he could have been found here more often than not. Back when betterment of the physical form he'd obtained for himself prior to being brought to the Tower was more important than anything else. In the face of the Glamoured reality, such concerns were not justified anymore.
Still, as vital as his work with the collar liquid is, Sephiroth will not sit and study endlessly; all things considered after all it would be dangerous to. He refuses to become that man whom he hates so much, and his physical training does well to ensure that he will not slip that way. It helps to reassure him greatly of his own identity, and has the added bonus of venting his pent up frustrations not only of his continued imprisonment in the Tower - but of angry impulse that might otherwise be exploded in one of the many faces of those that, by right, he shouldn't even be involving himself with but had found himself having to accept.
There were always the monsters to train himself to be better against, after all.
Sephiroth can be found pounding bare fists powerfully into one of the punchbags with strength enough to crack the knuckles of most others, running laps around the track, or bench pressing - lain across one of benches once he's verified it as safe to use that day. Always dressed appropriately for the exercise, only in leather pants and boots with his long silver hair braided back out of the way - though armor and jacket are never far away. It's never known when they could be needed.]
D: Sauna Floor 77 [Open]
In the dry heat of the Sauna it seemed that Sephiroth had finally found somewhere quiet enough to recollect his thoughts. The hot air created some sort of bubble around his senses after a while and he found himself drawn into feeling as relaxed as he could ever allow himself to feel - though never letting go of the very sore fact that he's still imprisoned here.
At least he was now going in the right direction. Who would have thought that so many would have listened to his views over the network and then been compelled by those same words to act upon them. The very personal notion that it had been his doing does wonders for Sephiroth's ego, and the fact that he'd managed (though not without some irritation) to obtain a whole tank of violet collar fluid for himself only added to that. What weighed heavily on Sephiroth's mind now was the inescapable fact that he couldn't do this alone. Said tank was being kept hidden on the strength of his shaky trust with another, the science project which now surrounded it (and him) relied also on others he didn't know at all. Not to mention the additional reconnaissance he would forever keep close to his chest, in Sheba and her books. Too many hands, each additional level to a pyramid increased not only the chance of it's ultimate failure, but the gravity such a failure would have.
Not to mention the sour taste the science project alone brought to the back of his mouth every single time he turned his attention towards the study or work. A very particular part of his hatred was forever reserved for scientists, and now through his own choice, and the utter determination he has to put himself ahead, he was having to swallow that and just do - easier said than done with an over-active mind like his. He thought he was holding up
Sephiroth sighed towards the ceiling as he reclined back on the wooden ledge, spilling silver hair all over one side of the bench from underneath him. Gazing up into the ceiling of the room, though forever he would keep his ears open for the sound of anyone, or any thing that might approach him here.
[Equipment availability allowing and at carefully intended random points in the week, after craftily losing his supervisor, Sephiroth spends the odd few-blocks of hours at one of a handful of locations known to those operating in the tower-wide science project. Though at this early stage there is only observation and notes regarding what can be ascertained from a droplet under these advanced microscopes. The technology of which, and therefore the visible details under various settings, is very much beyond anything Sephiroth has even seen before. If only-
-he scowls as his thought train circulates back again to that man. Sitting back from the microscope for a few moments while he recollects his thoughts, peers over a few open pages of textbooks strewn around to reinforce them and then proceeds to continue with his work. Sephiroth prefers to take his own notes, as well, as evidenced by the words starting to appear scrawled on paper (even if it is really film) nearby.
He is careful, every time to only bring the most necessary of a sample from the tank that remains in hiding; it would not do to spend all of their available resource in discovering the facts only to then not have enough to develop anything that might counter the unwanted effects within the fluid which courses around and through
no subject
Sephiroth is very careful, in front of the boy, not to visibly bristle at the sheer gravity of the question asked. He knows he has missing parts of memory, but despite how the Tower might want to make him feel about them, Sephiroth knows that it was for good reason that he'd surrendered them. It's arguable that he might not have been able to restore the core of his being the way that he's been able to if he'd had those irrelevant details dragging him with them into the abyss of the Lifestream.
The Lifestream that the remains of which was now being targeted as an alternate energy source for the Tower. Sephiroth's expression drops just a fraction at that though, for just a moment before he breaks the lingering silence. Tilting his head to the side curiously down at the boy.]
Memories that don't fit? Nothing that I'd regret not remembering. [Flashes of red hair and a nameless face whilst reading his copy of LOVELESS, for example. Now for the important question-] I assume you have?
[So much for silently resolving to keep the child out of the events of Sephiroth's own reality. If his intuition was anything to be trusted.]
no subject
[He pauses, thoughtfully.] I believed I was asleep for more than twenty years. I went to sleep in the lab, and I awoke in Midgar, after it had been destroyed. It is possible that my life continued uninterrupted between those two points. I thought my age was arrested during that time, but perhaps it was not, even though I am currently a child.
I do not understand the memories. They have no context.
no subject
Could their realities really be that intertwined? At least in theory it's entirely possible that, by some cruel twist of fate the boy could have been both the adult that he is and the child that he see's before him? Sephiroth wanders what sort of trickery is at play here. Eyeing the microscope with narrowed eyes as his thoughts worry again at the possibilities.]
Well, what memories? Exactly? [Sephiroth keeps his gaze off of the boy for the time being. He needs to hear the details first before he can begin to tie things together, much less come up with something that might satisfy the boys' longingly for knowledge. He's not convinced though, how their differing worlds would correlate.]
no subject
As I said, I have no context, so it is difficult to explain them. Some of the memories are only images. I remember my friends. There were two of them. They were also adults. [As they were the first thing he was able to remember, he has focused on recalling them. Recalling anything makes his head hurt terribly, so dredging up these memories is a painful exercise, yet one he endures nonetheless. He's interested in information. He wants to know.] I believe they were in SOLIDER. They died. There was a war. There were people who could fly.
There was a fire. And a mountain. Everything burned.
no subject
As his small doppelganger talks, Sephiroth too finds his memories being drawn inwards and back in time. There is a great void with regards to friends that Sephiroth had, to events prior to when he was aware - but thanks to the Psychelysis Phantoms it's easier than it had been to apply two probable voices to the two individuals that are mentioned. Or at least he suspects so. Names, faces though - it's all overlain with the bitter sense of betrayal that he holds so close to the core of his identity.
There was a fire. And a mountain. Everything burned. Sephiroth turns his gaze from the unfocused point on the desk back across to the boy. A glimmer of understanding, with an accompanying nod, crosses the older mans face as he attempts something he's not ever dared to explore before; opening that delicate innate, cellular connection between them that the Tower so graciously made real under the Glamour. Sephiroth the boy, Sephiroth the adult - this should be easy.]
But of course you should remember, should you have been as I was. In My World.
[The floodgates open and that hatred, that betrayal and everything that made Nibelheim the burning inferno that he had inflicted licked invisibly towards the boy. If he understood this, then Sephiroth supposed he might understand everything.]
no subject
He looks at his older self, and for a moment, he isn't sure what to think, how to react. He has all his recent memories, his recent personality, everything that's happened since he awakened in Midgar, on Gaia.
And then there is this, this treachery and pain and fury at everything that was done to him.]
I see.
[It's a simple answer, but he does see. He sits quietly for now, but that furious hatred is burning inside him.]
Yes, it was like that.
[He looks down at his hands, and it's if there are two awarenesses, gazing out from his eyes. He finds what he sees ordinary, but at the same time, his hands seem absurdly small and childish to him.]
What was done to me?
no subject
Interesting. It did indeed seem that they had much more in common than it has appeared. Until now.
Sephiroth lowers his eyelids a fraction and slightly tilts his head to one side, observing the boy in a similar way he'd been observing their subject matter under the microscope not minutes before. Again, the silver-haired man takes his time in answering.]
I discovered the truth, then. That all my life I had been lied to.
[For now at least treating their histories as the same, Sephiroth draws a long breath at his own violent memories of Nibelheim. That feeling of utter hatred, that is so central to the core of his whole being. It simmers permanently so close to the surface, yet he's an old hand at controlling it by now. Noting how the boy looks down strangely at his own hands, Sephiroth can't help but wander how he might feel if the roles were reversed.]
Why you are as you are? I don't know.
no subject
[He says this rather calmly, in spite of the anger that he feels. He'd thought he had no use for emotion, that he'd had none, but he had been wrong. Here it was. It had been here all the time, just below the surface. All that rage, so odd to him now, yet at the same time, so familiar.]
I have been lied to again. They did not tell me what I was.
[Although part of him can understand why they didn't. Part of him thinks that maybe Mr. Valentine wanted to help him... but the mere thought that he has this thought serves to anger him further--it's not something he should think. He wonders if he's been altered, diminished somehow.]
They prevented my return and then subjected me to this.
[His own enemies, treating him as a child--it would have been easy for them to destroy him, he realizes, with him weakened and ignorant. Yet they hadn't.]
no subject
Lied to again... Adult Sephiroth had ripped away all of the curtains off of all the lies all in one go.
He steps closer to the boy and even goes so far as to crouch down so that they are more at an eye-to-eye level. Those eyes, the mirror-image, but smaller, of his own. Both simmering with that same ignited anger. It's unnerving as silver eyebrows meet in the middle whilst watching the young boy's face. He's not sure what to say, if there could be anything to say so he calmly says the thought at the forefront of his mind. Well so much for trying to keep himself away from the boy in the name of could-be paradoxes.]
Who?
[That red bandana prickles along a memory again but Sephiroth remembers hardly anything of it's wearer from in his world.]
no subject
He's certain of it, and yet when he speaks, although he's still angry, he's still a child, and his voice is a child's.]
Mr. Strife. And Mr. Valentine...
[And he's surprised by feeling upset, not just that he was lied to but by the fact that they must have hated him. Everyone had pretended to befriend him, when he was weak, in order to deceive him. No one cared for him at all.]
no subject
They'd...been his friends? What the greatest insult indeed.]
I see. [There is the distinct flare of bitterness in his tone this time. The hatred and vengeance towards his nemesis that he holds so close to his core boils up like a sour taste in the mouth only to be harshly swallowed back.]
The worse type of friend is a friend who is not a friend at all.
no subject
[It's true, what his other self says. To be lied to, betrayed... It's the worst thing that could happen. It's what had made him so angry, the fact that everyone had lied to him, turned on him. Everything had been a lie.
It still is. His anger fades momentarily, and in its wake, there's nothing but an ache, an emptiness. He had thought he would be a hero. That isn't what had happened.]
My other friends, they betrayed me, too.
no subject
Despite all the hollow memories, in spite of the gaps that had had salt rubbed into them last month. It still itches at his consciousness, if they had been so inconsequential - how did the phantoms even manage to drain at his energy?
The larger Sephiroth stands back up and looks away back over the science spread across the table for a moment before looking back down to the boy.]
Friendship is an illusion of humanity. They cling to each other to try and glean some meaning from their pointless lives. I- [Pause. Narrowing eyes a fraction.]
-you don't need them.