[open] // it’s your blood that’s red like roses

[fionnuisce]

Characters: Waver and open
Setting: November 23rd
Location: floors 27, 15, and the dorm floors
Format: starting in brackets, I'll try to match.
Summary: Waver's having problems.
Warnings: Probably none?

[floor twenty-seven]

[Working usually took his mind off of things. Today seemed to be the exception; Waver stared blankly at his notes as though he wasn't really seeing them, pen hovering just over his paper. it seemed as though he was having trouble getting a train of thought properly started...or he was on a much less science-oriented one altogether.]

[floor fifteen]

[If the usual work on the collar fluid wouldn't hold his attention, maybe something more practical would. In the course of his day Waver found his way to the workshop floor; someone did need him to craft new swords. Film materials or not, he had every intention to do as much. So one could find him drawing up vague outlines for paired shortswords and collecting a pile of materials for them.]

[dorm floors]

[Maybe it just wasn't worth trying to do anything today. Not with the miserable mood that kept rearing its ugly, murderous, and nauseating head. Waver decided that perhaps just trying to actually accomplish things was best left for tomorrow. If he slept on the whole mess of Sephiroth and all that had happened for another night, maybe it would be less of an overbearing weight to handle.]

[Maybe.]

Comments

[neverbeamemory]

Considering I was given one of the sets of supplies, and they are circulated around the Tower I'd say the supplies belong to all of those teams directly involved.

[He closes his hand around the pipette and tucks it inside of his jacket. Better to take it with him for checking later, than have it be discovered by a worker unit.]

At least for now.

[fionnuisce]

Rather ominous statement, that. Plotting a coup d'état against the rest of us?

[neverbeamemory]

And where exactly is the advantage in that?

[fionnuisce]

How should I know the reasoning behind plans made by the clinically insane?

[neverbeamemory]

That's hardly a convincing insult considering all things clinical are nothing but mesh and fluid.

[fionnuisce]

Oh? I don't think that applies to your sick little thought processes. Was I not clear or do you need your fucking ears washed out again?

[neverbeamemory]

Come now, I'm trying to be civil at least.

[He turns and faces Waver head on. Forcing the disgust at the way he was dealt with out into his tone in reply.]

You were ever so good at that, weren't you. You'll be highly recommended should I ever have need of your cleansing skills.

[fionnuisce]

If I wasn't being civil, you'd be missing an arm or a leg right now.

[Waver's own voice was level, green eyes cold and unconcerned as he lit a cigarette.]

Oh, is that an attempt at guilt I hear? Sorry to disappoint, but I'd need a conscience for that to work.

[neverbeamemory]

I'm sure.

[His turn for the sarcasm, and it's bored sarcasm at that. Sephiroth would wager that he could enact that threat quicker than Waver. Unless he had that cursed mercury on him this time, that is. His silver head nods and he strides slowly for the stairwell, making a comment as he passed behind Waver.]

Guilt is a weakness indeed. It seems we are not so dissimilar after all.

[fionnuisce]

Spare me the dramatics. What are you, a fucking villain in a cheap novel? You spout the 'not so different' speech and I wander off clutching my head and shrieking about an existential crisis?

Grow up. You think I give an iota of a fuck about my morality?

[neverbeamemory]

Just a casual observation. That's all.

[He's not rising to you anymore Waver. He has to work with and/or around you for the sake of the collar fluid but that's as far as it will go.]

About as much of a fuck as your attitude makes any difference.

[He turns to leave now, Waver can have the last word if he likes. Sephiroth is done talking.]

[fionnuisce]

Cute. If you ever want to measure how much your godawful eighties hair weighs when it's soaking wet, you know who to talk to.

[bye loser]