xsnowxgardenx (xsnowxgardenx) wrote in finalfantasyfrp,

For whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. [Sephiroth post]

The bittercold bite of the night's wind rolled clear out of the Hayate desert, sweeping low arcs across the peaceful, glassy clear ocean water. It was mesmerizing to observe - the curls of sub arctic winter air creating small paths of ice where it touched the surface, only to retract again to make birth for the next breath of air - it made the young tell stories of snow fairies skating across the water, freezing it as they passed. Sephiroth knew quite differently, of course, but it didn't make it any less intriguing to watch, especially with the back lights of silent ships resting just beyond the shoals casting white shadows of illumination across the disturbingly fathomless black waters. The impressively imposing figure of the man sat with one leg dangling off the side of the weather-beaten wharf, and one half crooked towards him, his arm looped nonchalantly across his knee as he stared out into the unending roll of pitch black canvas.

The last piece of their world had been destroyed.

And now here he was on what he aimed to be his last mission, other than finding and gutting Cloud Strife where he stood, to find the one responsible. In a man like Sephiroth fear was a commodity that he'd been trained to sever from the rest of him when he was only eight years old - he was the most perfect, well oiled, brilliant killing machine that had ever lived, or ever would most suspised, and he would be damned if some other bastard would take over the same world that he was attempting to destroy only two years previous. If it wasn't for that god forsaken clone of his, he might've succeeded and this poor excuse for a military general might never have lived long enough to manipulate those around him.

If he wanted competition, a challenge, he had it. Sephiroth lived, breathed and spoke in military - the tactics, the procedures, the strategies, the entire scope - with the added effect that he was indeed something built from some of the earliest beginning cells of violence that ever existed. If anyone naively thought they could stand up in his path and not be buried beneath the rubble in his wake, they were despairingly wrong. There was no joy in it, no pride, no feeling whatsoever. Just the solemn knowledge that he had to wipe out the threat to his plans before the threat wiped out the entire world. For the first time since his final run in with Aeris, and then Cloud, he didn't want it to end. Maybe he was losing his touch. Afterall he loathed every last thing on this planet now, as they hated him, so what purpose was there to keeping it? To sustain a bunch of parasites?

You know why. Don't play coy with yourself, you'll always lose.

The trenchcoat rustled with the frigid wind, but he didn't draw it up tighter to him the way most people would to ward off the intrusion of the cold. It never hurt him. Seems nothing did anymore. All the better for when he finally narrowed in on Cloud after his arrival to this odd General's front door. Tomorrow he would leave Marina and continue on his way to the legendary city of Centralis and they would let him in, or he would make them. Such things weren't worthy of the time he spent thinking upon them, and so he leaned back, his leg still dangling, and shut his eyes.
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  • 1 comment
Ooooh! We're making Sephy distructon prone evil psyco! This should be fun! Interesting... not only does he want to kill Cloud, kill everything else in his wake! This is a good difference