[The Turn of the Tide] || [Open]

[the_white_rider]

Characters: Gandalf and You.
Setting: Dormitory Floors, Hidden Floor, Cafeteria and Meadow.
Format: Action or Prose, I will follow.
Summary: The white wizard comes back with counsel in this dark hour. Essentially, after nearly a year spent on his dead homeworld, Gandalf is back and looking for informations regarding the state of things.
Warnings: Nothing. Will update if something comes up.


• Dormitory Floors (Morning)
Few were the people who would find comfort upon waking up within this dreaded tower. After all, what sort of reasonable being would find reassurance to be condemned to live in such a terrible place? The White Wizard was one of those people. Indeed, if Zo still had the means to summon people within the tower, it meant power had not been exhausted yet. It meant those who had remained behind were still alive, as he had hoped while he had been stranded on the shadow that once was Middle-Earth.

Last he had been in this tower, the truth behind their surroundings had been revealed and the glamour unveiled, as a consequence of the reserve in energy of the tower having been depleted. Doubtlessly a good thing, yet he had not forgotten the deadline. And so the first thing he did upon waking up was to leave his room and check the closest terminal--

Fifty-eight days. He closed his eyes and sighed. So very little time, yet an eternity. Miracles had been accomplished in much less than that. There was still hope. And his priority now would be to find out people who could inform him. Find who was left in the tower and learn from them what the situation was.


• Hidden Floor (Anytime During the Day)
Gandalf was familiar with most of the 101 floors that made up this tower. Most, but not this one. He was fairly certain this one floor had not been there before, and if the transporter that needed to be used to get there was any indication, as well as the special retrieval units that inhabited it, maybe this one floor was a safe floor. This was yet to be confirmed however.

He walked in and looked at the information displayed on the walls and smiled– Unless everyone in this tower had gone crazy (which was a very viable possibility especially considering what fools certain had been, but he'd rather stay positive), they would never have put such information where retrieval units, let alone the administrators could see them. This confirmed his feeling this floor might be safe, and he spent some time there, reading at the information with great interests.


• Cafeteria (Floor 01 - Evening)
Some things never changed. The oatmeal for all newcomers and the nutrition bars were one of them. If he were to trust what he knew about the tower, this would be the sign of a Jason month. Yert obviously things were no longer as they appeared, so he wouldn't be so quick to judge.

Still, Gandalf came down and had his meal-- Casting a most disapproving and sorrowful glare at the food. Not really what he enjoyed eating. But after nearly a year without anything to eat, that was better than nothing.


• Meadow (Floor 19 - Nighttime)
It was later that day, during the right that Gandalf went to the meadow. Apparently, the wizard knew exactly where he was headed and stopped before a few random stones on the ground, in a spot of the meadow he had personally picked a long time. Well, random. To anyone else these stones probably did look random, but to Gandalf they had a meaning. He had placed them there specifically as a marker. And before long, he removed them.

Indeed, he had stored two very important things there: the book that contained the entirety of his theories and findings about the tower, as well as a cache of the pipe-weed he had personally cultivated. One of these two thing was slightly more important than the other. But only slightly. Hopefully they were still there.

Comments

[the_white_rider]

Something had clearly happened. The white wizard couldn't say exactly what or to what extent it had affected Sephiroth, but he was clearly different. Different from when they had first met, different from the time they had met in this library. It's as if they had been three different Sephiroth--

Gandalf knew well that feeling of despair that so easilly sneaked into the heart of people of all races. And one of the key was to not allow it to sink any further than it already was.

"There are forces other than those of the administrators at work in this realm. Things were meant to happen– Things that were not of Ruana's design. Or of anyone's." Gandalf spoke strongly, on a tone that clearly indicated he didn't doubt his own words would it be for only a second. "Be it for good or evil, we all have a role left to play before this story ends. Yet what will this role be, no one but you can decide."

[neverbeamemory]

Meanwhile Sephiroth slowly shook his head, then pointedly looked back up to Gandalf to refocus himself within their conversation - too eagerly his thoughts wandered and he didn't want to get back on that train of thought again.

Perhaps more concerning than the perpetual despair he seemed trapped in, was the fact that as the days crept by Sephiroth found himself caring less and less about who could see it. There were moments, such as this one, where he realized this completely and all at once curled his sense of self around inside his thoughts as tightly as it could go. Sephiroth forced his tone of voice level to answer Gandalf.

"Yes there are." Other forces, indeed. Forces such are Aria's, forces such as all of those combined that Pandora and Ragnarok both brought together. The Evil Alliance had been a force, once, however it seemed an alternate universe away to him now. "But what of those that don't want to play roles?"

[the_white_rider]

The white wizard didn't reply immediately-- Decidedly Sephiroth's case was worst than he had imagined. This changed very little, however.

"Few are those who want to play a role. But it is not for them to decide." Not even him had wanted to play a role, both in Middle-Earth and this Tower. yet, what was the other choice, accepting death, the end of freedom? No. "All you can decide is what your role shall be and what you will do with it."

[neverbeamemory]

In another life, Gandalf would have been perhaps one of the best to help Sephiroth out of the spiraling sense of mind that he's driving himself towards. But not in this life, not at this time. Gandalf was doing little other than running light sandpaper over already worked skin.

Then, finally he looked up from the grass and met with Gandalf's wizened eyes. A glimmer of power flicked across his eyes but it was limited to a dulled flare where before it had been dazzling.

"There isn't much time left to figure it out, and I have tried so many roles already. I don't do well being backed into a corner."

[the_white_rider]

Well, Sephiroth was seriously depressing. Gandalf knew how to recognize a lost cause when he saw one, and that was one such cause. Hence he would no longer insist as much, though he didn't give up for that much. He drew on his pipe again.

"Yet aren't those backed into corners the most dangerous?"

Back a wild animal into a corner, and be prepared to face his most ferocious and deadly attempts to remain alive. Such a simple rule of nature that applied to men particularly well, for he had seen it before. Yet again, maybe Sephiroth wasn't human.

[neverbeamemory]

He had his moments of clarity still, where he managed to cast off the heavy fog that had enveloped his way of clear thinking but it would always creep back around with a vengeance. The silver haired man averted his gaze from Gandalf's face to the glow of the caught weed he could see and then away out over the meadow.

"There are only so many tactics for getting out of said corner."

And backed into a corner he had been. Repeatedly. And every time he had fought his way out tooth and claw, only to be thrust back into -quite often- the exact same corner. Such could define his existence in the Tower of Animus and where his hatred had always been at the Administration, now it ran the risk of turning in on itself.

[the_white_rider]

The white wizard then took on a more serious tone; the same tone he once took when addressing the kings and stewards who had given all hope up, only to let despair sink and lament on their own fate. Drawing on his pipe once more, Gandalf then put it aside before staring at Sephiroth.

"You may chose to stay and hide in said corner." He abruptly said and then walked to Sephiroth, stopping by his side "But this is not how you will gain your freedom, Sephiroth. If there is anything you wish to see accomplished you will have to fight. Not tomorrow, but today. There will be a time to question yourself. There will be a time to lament on past mistakes. But now is not the time."

[neverbeamemory]

Sephiroth narrowed eyes at the position in the air, where the end of Gandalf's pipe was before it moved. He didn't trust himself to keep his expression controlled enough to meet the very intense gaze of the wizards where they might be searching for his as he spoke those words. It was all true, and like the dagger that it was Gandalf turned it in Sephiroth's gut. The feeling that was left in it's wake was like a churning case of butterflies.

"I have fought," He took a breath and held it for a while before slowly letting it out like it might calm his nerves before starting again. "Long and hard I have strived to get where I needed to be. I have-"

Sephiroth paused once more and this time flicked his gaze to the side at Gandalf. A thought crossed his mind, why he was all of a sudden feeling like he needed to get this out. To place his stamp on what he had achieved, what had all been for nothing in the end. It couldn't lead to anything but more anger; the only emotion with which he knew how to vent.

"-I have tolerated much of what I would never have tolerated before, in my time here-" And the more he thought about it, the deeper the frown hidden mostly behind silver bangs lent forwards became. In the end he couldn't finish and instead squeezed the top of his nose with his right hand.

"I have changed, where I fought so hard to keep myself whole."

[the_white_rider]

It was as if Sephiroth's angers had whatsoever no effect on Gandalf. Instead, the wizard kept looking at him with the same intense stare as before. For someone as ancient as Gandalf, the time spent fought in the tower was very little. He knew all too well it was a long time for the younger ones, and what they fought for was more important than anything else.

"And you shall keep changing, even if you chose to stand aside. Change is no curse, it is unavoidable. Life itself is a neverending fight. Limits we once thought we could never cross are ever pushed back."

With that said, Gandalf grabbed his stuff on the ground and started walking toward Sephiroth. He had tolerated much, yes. And he would have to tolerate more.

"Whether you want it or not, war is coming to us. No matter which path you chose to walk, battles will be on your way. Choosing to avoid them is not a privilege any of us have." He said and stopped at Sephiroth's level "And lowering your sword before your enemy is not an option you should consider."

With that said, Gandalf walked past Sephiroth. His patience was thin for people who gave in to despair and refused to listen, even though they might have good reasons.

[neverbeamemory]

Dimly gleaming eyes continued to watch Gandalf, as if drawn more into what the wizard was saying by the intense way he was regarding him. Sephiroth had held steadfast in himself against the various obstacles that the Tower had thrust at him until now-

Yet they had changed him in ways he didn't want to acknowledge. Yet it did not stop the fact that it had all chipped away at him. Gandalf was right, of course and it was so bitter to accept.

"Words from the wise." He uttered as the wizard took his leave away from him. Sephiroth was left there in the meadow staring up at the glamoured night sky with only his poisonous thoughts still circulating within him.

He had listened, and the words would add to his never ending contemplation.