towerofanimus | Log 030 | Tower of Jenova Phase #1

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Log 030 | Tower of Jenova Phase #1

Characters: [OPEN TO ALL] Sephiroth via Tower of Jenova Phase #1
Setting: 10-22nd March, Starting in the Dormitory Levels, spreading around the Tower via those Infected
Format: Prose and/or Action, Mingle-style. Please put date and/or relevant locations in the subjects!
Summary: Sephiroth releases his will and manages to envelop the Dormitory Levels of the Tower, Side effects commence shortly after in certain individuals. Meanwhile, he begins to siphon energy into his very core. Feel free to use this post for plotting.
Warnings: Sickness, mutations, copious amounts of Geostigmatic black goop and generally bad feels including but not limited to homicide, suicide, hallucinations. Eventually.

It was now or never.

The Tower had ripped his soul, the very core of his being from it's rightful place and bound it indefinitely in wire frames and nano film. Since he had awoken here all those cycles ago, the proverbial dagger had been stabbed, twisted and turned in defiance of his self-control, in spite of his indomitable will, again and again. This was not his Destiny; to be played with as such a literal child's-toy with no regard whatsoever for his divine birthright. He had worked tirelessly since then, one way or another, to gain for himself the means by which he could flip this game in his favor. The boycott, the fluid research, the countless infiltration attempts and new vessels he had gone through - all culminated to this point.

His real powers were unlocked, and with them the game changing realization that whatever he could put his mind to in this new Realm wouldn't be as simple as all that. In the absence of even an atom of his particular, real genetic makeup Sephiroth discovered quickly that he could only ever cultivate his power -his will- to a certain point before, by the constraints of the Tower it would not go any further.

And so it had turned full circle, right back to the sore fact that there had only ever been one, real resolution.
Sephiroth needed out.

It was sometime late afternoon on 10th March, when Sephiroth decided to settle in his Dormitory to make that final, brutal push against his cage. Within only a few moments of well-practiced, meditative charged silence sat atop his bed Sephiroth's consciousness was released further into his core than he had ever let it sink before. His will only had one intent; to wrap around all of his power at once and expand it outwards away from him in one almighty push. There were a few attempts that rippled through the very fabric of his core as he teased more of this force against the barriers that had kept it contained for so long.

A sharp breath was taken and Sephiroth threw all of his consciousness into exuding itself through the bars, all in one go. His large black wing burst itself violently out of his right shoulder, but it didn't stop there. At it's fullest extension the black monstrosity shimmered before collapsing it's form smoothly into thick, inky black, shadowy tendrils which sped out from Sephiroth's form in every direction. They quickly wrapped themselves around everything in Sephiroth's direct vicinity and then -as he opened livid, glowing eyes to the room- sped away from him. Enveloping doorways, hallways, rooms and stairwells like a vast tidal wave of black ink.

The Dormitory levels were enveloped with this blackness within a matter of minutes and then quickly faded up, into the very fabric of the Tower. A held breath was broken as Sephiroth swooned heavily with his own energy release, a severe backlash of lethargy would see him disoriented for a while at least.

But it was worth it, he could feel it. This extension of himself around these floors of the Tower.
It pulsed with promise.

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[ooc: works perfectly for me!]

That power resonance had been exactly why Yukiko had come up to that floor. It wasn't a normal case of looking out at the sky and stars, like it might usually be for her. No, right now, she had something of a mission, as it were.

Her eyes narrow as she slowly approaches, being particularly careful not to trip over herself. That's impossible, much as she hates it, but a stubbed toe is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

She swallows hard as she steps closer. Yukiko had come up with a plan before, but now, she almost hesitates, as a mix of anger and sadness comes over her. She wants to attack as much as she wants to say Just kill me already, let me die.

In the end, she doesn't say either of those things.

"You did this, didn't you?" The answer is crystal clear, but part of her needs to hear it.

There was such a pause from the man before her, that if not for their connection, she might be convinced he hadn't even heard her. Sephiroth certainly didn't even minutely react to the swell of hot anger laced with burning sadness that he could feel behind him.

When he did turn, and it was a full-bodied turn, towards Yukiko - the longing look over the extent of his influence inside of her was delivered with an almost euphoric sense of pleasure. The answer, was indeed, as palpable as the charged nature his presence exuded. It was at that height now where there was very little he could do to conceal his intent.

Sephiroth smiled, a smooth stretch of psychopathy across the lower part of his face, and tilted his head to one side. Rather than answer the pointless question-

"Do you like flowers, Yukiko?"

Yukiko knows perfectly well that Sephiroth has heard the question, just as she knows it's not going to get an answer. At least, it won't get an answer in words, but she doesn't need it now. By now, her anger is more palpable than the despair, making her eyes seem to flash a shade brighter.

Her fans are still at her side, and though by now she knows they'll be about as effective as paper is against a sword, she takes them into her hands. Their presence is at least something familiar in the chaos, and she'll take the slight measure of comfort that comes with the familiarity.

"What does the fact that I like flowers have to do with anything?"

It's not like I'll see them again, she almost adds, stopping just short.

"It has brought it out in you, there must be some relevance there."

The brighter flash to her own eyes is mirrored intently with one to his own, positively now otherworldly-looking vibrant ones. As if to emphasize the connection between them, his superior standing to her, his own even internally blink; contracting to small thread-like slits before returning to a more 'normal' size. He can strongly feel the connection now to her core, and fancies he might be able to bring her to her knees with just a thought.

What isn't that obvious is the way that Yukiko's anger feeds his own desire for violence. To strike at her how she deserves, to make her submit even further underneath his will. It could be all too easy, and it would be a shame if Sephiroth didn't draw it out. For now, he remains visibly unarmed.

Cherry blossoms, the sakura print on the kimono she wore on television, another version of herself wearing a dress trimmed with roses and running through a castle of her own making. Of course all of those things would be brought out; they're a thread running through it all. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes sad, but always a constant.

"So that's why I look like this."

To her credit, Yukiko doesn't flinch back at the way Sephiroth blinks. She's seen monsters before, some of them taking human forms. There's another little flare of anger, one that rings out clear as a bell over the link between them.

She flicks her wrists, letting the fans unfold open in a well-practiced motion. There's the urge to open the floodgates of her magic and burn this whole floor to ash, and she doesn't care who gets caught up in it.

"...if I die, this stops, doesn't it?"

The question is laced with that mix of despair and anger again. She might not intentionally be trying to draw out the violence, but she certainly isn't letting it go.

"This-" He extended an open palm in a gesture towards Yukiko herself. "-is your own doing."

A multitude of things, Sephiroth could mean with that statement, was completely intended to be expressed. Her mutation, which his influence had eagerly twisted into that which was both beautiful and grotesque screamed of all the ways she had both impressed him with her fervor and made of him an enemy.

The silver-haired man's presence exuded all of the pride that could only come from a plan coming to fruition that had taken a lot of time and work to put into place. Further emphasized in the air, heightened by the growing energy coursing through his wire frame.

As the opening of Yukiko's fans, Sephiroth stepped to one side of her and turned fluidly into his ready-stance. Masamune's gleaming edge curled outwards from it's position by his head as it extended to it's fullest manifestation. If there was anything Sephiroth was going to relish in this instance it would be to pull at those violent strings in Yukiko and to show her first hand how very mistaken she had been in seeking to thwart him

"Why don't you give it a try, hm?"

Yukiko's eyes narrow. There's no way all of this is her own doing; she can't change her skin or her body like this, and even if she could, she wouldn't. There's a part of her, however small, that's insisting that's right, you're to blame, it's always you.

She doesn't say it out loud. She has that much control left.

Instead, she takes a deep breath, shifting into her usual fighting stance. That question is a clear 'yes', but that has two meanings in and of itself: 'if I die, it might go back to normal' could apply to either of them.

Yukiko knows what her death will mean - another month of weakness and not having her real powers. Is it worth it?

"Konohana-Sakuya, come forth!"

It'll have to be, she says to herself, not pausing before firing off an Agidyne, influenced by those violent tendencies. One way or another, this is going to have to end. If it ends in blood spatter like rose petals, she can live with that.

He didn't just see her fighting stance, Sephiroth felt it almost as if she were an extension of himself performing the move. As he turned his attention more towards her, the more this feeling became more pronounced. Sephiroth had to be very careful not to allow her to 'pull back' at his power at her invocation.

If he'd been a second late with the retreat back into his own form, he might well have been struck full on by the Agidyne, for whatever damage it might do to him. The flames were heightened indeed by the violent tendencies Sephiroth himself had planted in his flower girl, and as he turned to dodge - the intense heat caught the ends of his long silver hair.

But between the quick motion to dodge and his own empowered state the fire did not spread up the length of his hair - only blackened for around three inches at most at the very ends of his silver mane. It was something, but nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Sephiroth coiled his influence around inside Yukiko as suddenly and harshly as he could. He needed to bring her power down within his control as much as possible, he knew, as he stepped closer and brought Masamune up and around to deliver a quick flurry of pristine slashes at Yukiko - though almost feather-light in this instance.

Petal like skin would split with less pressure than normal skin, after all. He didn't want to kill her just yet. Not when he could continue to infiltrate every viable part of her soul and claim it as part of his power, ready for when he needed it.

At any other time, she might have laughed about actually setting Sephiroth's hair on fire - even a little - but Yukiko doesn't have the time or the urge to just then.

All she's able to think of is the fight.

She focuses inward for a moment, trying to get a Fire Boost on herself, but that effort falls short. Yukiko gasps, more out of shock at that pull on her soul than the light, sharp cuts on her skin, stumbling backwards before managing to catch her balance. It's tenuous at best, but she manages to keep enough control to focus.

The blood dripping from those wounds looks almost like rose petals as it hits the floor. Normally, she'd step back and heal, but that survival instinct is buried underneath so many levels of anger and hurt that it's impossible to find in the heat of the moment.

Instead, she rushes forward, focusing on the offensive side of her magic even as she tries to get a few fan strikes in. The bigger the damage, the longer the casting time, so she's sticking to her Agi spells for now.

Meanwhile Sephiroth reset his stance when Yukiko backed up. The blood streams easily, freely from the fine cuts on her body; he wondered fleetingly if the skin would even congeal them on it's own. It's not lost on him the altogether floral way that it drips to the floor from her, a beautiful contradiction indeed.

He was more than ready for Yukiko to rush in, hot-headed from the anger he was nearly pulsating at her - cultivating inside of her very soul. It was almost too easy, with his almost puppeteer-like influence inside of his one at this stage, to predict where her fan would try to strike. Where her smaller fire-spells would fly.

Sephiroth allowed one of her fans to slice at him openly, across his right forearm and he turned with a hiss away from her. Not dropping Masamune, but instead vanishing it as he came to cradle the injured arm within his left hand. A pregnant silence fell as his own blood tainted the atmosphere, the reality of charged violet fluid adding heavier elements to the already foggy feel around him.

He started to chuckle, and stood back up straight facing Yukiko. He held his injured arm out in front with a wicked smile across his features - his regeneration was so fast now that Yukiko could stand there and watch it close up. The smallest flash of power within Sephiroth's eyes preceded his advance back into attack.

Masamune was back in hand immediately and Sephiroth forced his offensive in response to Yukiko's tactic. Small slice after slice ripped through fragile skin until he got close enough to deliver a charged kick up into Yukiko's mid-section.

Those cuts are slowly clotting, but they won't stop bleeding anytime soon, not with Yukiko's steady refusal to heal herself. It doesn't stop her from trying to get a few more hits in, at any rate.

She stops entirely once Masamune vanishes, finally deciding to charge up her attacks and go for the magic approach. That idea's as fleeting as the wound to Sephiroth's arm. It's useless, she thinks, but she starts to cast Fire Boost on herself despite that.

For a second time, she finds herself interrupted with razor-sharp cuts, and that throws her off-guard enough for that kick to connect without even an attempt to block it. Yukiko goes flying backwards, hitting one of the windows. It feels like it should have cracked the glass, but it doesn't.

The kick does knock the wind out of her, and she turns her head to look, her eyes dulling as she winces with the pain of forcing air back into her lungs.

Had they been real windows, they probably would have shattered and Yukiko would have been knocked from the Tower to plummet however-many hundreds of floors that lay below them. But Sephiroth knows they are nothing but walls really and approached Yukiko as she remained on the floor in the corner, struggling to find her breath. He held Masamune out to one side as if it were really just a treasured accessory as opposed to the lethal tool that it was. Even more so now that it was real and not Glamoured, one of his many rewards for months of patience and tolerance.

Sephiroth tilted his head to one side momentarily as if to examine the damage to this Host of his, before leaping into another powerful kick up into her midsection as if it were the most natural thing for him to do next. He felt by extension the blossoming of pain within her chest and it only willed him to go further. He didn't need to kill her-

"Stupid girl."

-but that didn't mean he couldn't leave her so that she would experience pain at every small motion, until he was ready to end it for her. At his pleasure, not hers. One more kick followed but this time Sephiroth aimed it lower down into the softness of her belly and then stepped back, swung Masamune between them, and drew the great blade up in both of his hands, inverting it down towards Yukiko's frame.

"This is for all those times that you ever thought you could stand in my way."

He would start, with a non-lethal but crippling stab to her shoulder.

It takes longer than she would have liked, but Yukiko manages a few labored breaths. Her survival instinct pipes up for a moment - get up, heal, run, it urges, but she shakes her head. Dying is preferable to continuing to suffer in a form like this; it's a twisted thought that she wouldn't normally have, but as it is, she can't help it.

She moves to get to her feet, but that kick means she's back down without much of a chance to recover. Yukiko hears a sickening crunching sound and is sure that means she's got a couple of broken ribs, but that still doesn't make her heal.

Her eyes narrow at that insult, but she stays silent, biting her lip hard enough to make it bleed. That's enough to keep most of the pained sound down when Sephiroth's kick connects to her belly.

It's not enough to keep her from screaming when he stabs her through the shoulder. The noise echoes off the windows, coming back louder in her ears, and that's when the idea comes to her.

Yukiko looks up after a moment, gritting her teeth, then silently summons her Persona. She doesn't telegraph her attack this time, reaching up to touch Masamune with her free hand and sending the Agidyne spell straight up its length.

Yukiko's scream was just luscious at that stage. The way that it resounded around the windows, the way that it paired with Sephiroth's own consciousness as he injured it's extension in Yukiko - it earned a pause there before he would think to draw the sword out for another stab.

He looked down on Yukiko with more of his malicious intent than he's ever dared to bare to anyone else in the Tower until this point. He's hurting her, he can feel completely how it hurts her and he enjoys it. But something between them broke that feeling of elation, in the split-second before Yukiko touched the flat edge of Masamune-

The great sword lit up flaring red-hot and golden as the heavy fire-spell raced up it's length. As it was still impaled within Yukiko it would probably cauterize her all the way through her shoulder but the effect was otherwise as desired. Sephiroth had to let the hilt go, as the scalding heat seared through leather into his palms- the smell of smoking leather and skin smoked on the air as Sephiroth retreated a fair few feet out of range. He clenched hands open and closed as he willed himself to heal the burns immediately before getting to his feet. He would pull again on Yukiko's power to do this.

The sword itself faded out of existence in the meantime; unpinning Yukiko.

"You're not the only one with that particular affinity." He kept his voice low as the Materia, a low green glow within his right forearm since Masamune was not manifested, was called up with no channeling time whatsoever. Sephiroth extended his hands out in front and small fireballs were cast from his fingertips. Eight of them sent before him to keep Yukiko pinned into the corner while he approached again.

Pulling once more at the core of her being, he willed her to stay still and not move in the meantime.

Sephiroth's malicious intent isn't just something she can see. It's all too tangible, wrapped around her as it is. It's more than enough to send a shiver down her spine in that instant before she summons, before she casts her spell. She's seen villains in her time, but part of her realizes that this is on an entirely different level.

Still, she doesn't intend to stop fighting - too much of those negative emotions are in play for her to do otherwise.

To her credit, Yukiko doesn't scream as her own magic flows through her body. It's painful, leaving a few deep burns inside her flesh, but she was expecting it. That arm's not going to be any use for quite a while.

She feels the yank at her power, more than enough to speed Sephiroth's already fast rate of healing. That's enough to turn her stomach just a bit; it's just another level of manipulation. That's only made worse when she feels the second pull at her spirit.

Yukiko wants to say something, wants to get up and slash with her good arm, but her body won't move. She only watches, eyes flickering green in the fireballs' light as they connect, gritting her teeth and clenching a fist - one scream is all she wants to allow. No more than that, though part of her says that's useless.

Finally, after all the months of subterfuge, of intentionally coming across as less than he is - Sephiroth was finally in a position of power enough to let his true colors be shown. He's ecstatic that it's finally come to this and for all his positive emotions it would only heighten the negative in others; his will is eager for all of it's entitled power. His soul at this point almost full to bursting.

The fireballs were connected one by one, one after another into Yukiko's forced-still frame. It burned clothing, seared more layers of delicate skin than it would have done if she had normal human skin still and warmed to a agonizing level the rose vine that wound itself all around her.

"That'll do."

If he did much more, she might die accidentally and Sephiroth needed her death to mean so much more. He watched how Yukiko's skin smoldered before letting go her physically, letting her slump to the floor. Masamune was summoned once more, though he might have to resort to another tactic if the flower-girl of his making thought still push her attack.

As much as Yukiko wanted not to let him have the satisfaction of another scream, there's only so much pain she can take. Any vestiges of fire resistance she has are pushed past their limits, petal skin burning away as she screams.

There's a distinctly frustrated note mixed in with the pain of that second scream. It's frustration at being reduced to such a weak state, frustration that she's letting the pain get to her, frustration at not being able to do more. You're not ever strong enough on your own, she thinks. You always need someone. Won't you ever learn?

Yukiko slumps back against the window, breathing ragged. She tries to push herself back to her feet once before falling again, cursing once under her breath. She closes her eyes for just a moment, focusing her remaining energy.

It's not quite enough. She tries to cast again, but her injuries have her too weak to do even that.

"...let me die."

The words slip out entirely unbidden. Yukiko curses herself for doing anything that even remotely resembles begging, but the words have been said, their damage done.

Her second scream was more than satisfying, it was damn-near unholy in it's tone. Coupled as it was with those feelings of frustration and hopelessness he'd been cultivating in all of those he'd tainted.

Sephiroth watched her, with all the grace of one that might watch a crippled insect, as she found her feet and fell. As she cursed and tried to conjure more energy that simply wasn't there on account of the severe burns that Sephiroth had left her with. Indeed, they would make the remaining time that Sephiroth allowed Yukiko to suffer, the most miserable of her life.

"Not yet. But soon."

And then he would smile, as if she had served him a great purpose, before backing away from her position in the corner by the window and leaving via the stairwell. Yukiko would be left to fend for herself; in her damaged state. It would be a shame if she were to die there, but maybe that would be a lesson to her - that all of those friendships she treasured, meant nothing after all.

But he would not let her die. Sephiroth reserved a small part of his almighty will to keep Yukiko alive despite all of her suffering; he needed her energy still.

Yukiko stays silent, at least outwardly, watching Sephiroth leave, listening to his footsteps until she can't hear them any longer.

It's only then that she allows herself to fall onto her side, facing the windows and staring out at the clouds. She looks back over her shoulder occasionally, half-hoping that 'soon' means 'I'm going to kill you the moment you lose consciousness', but that doesn't happen. Neither happens - she doesn't lose consciousness and he doesn't come back.

It's only then she's absolutely sure she's alone that she lets the first tears fall. It's not that she's decided other people mean nothing; it's that she feels like she herself is the failure.

"How do you even manage to screw up dying?", she asks herself, forcing herself to focus on her reflection. There's no answer back, only strange green eyes filled with tears staring back at her.

She's not sure whether it's death or merely unconsciousness when the physical pain finally becomes too much to handle and the blackness rushes up to meet her. Either way, she won't move from that spot for some time.

[ooc: And the music to accompany this tag: Here. Worth a listen.]

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Log 030 | Tower of Jenova Phase #1

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