#;sephiroth

Darkness haunts your narrative || Accepting

It stings more than it should.

He is not supposed to be tired. He is not supposed to show weakness. Sephiroth understands that, even at such a young age. If his performance is anything less than optimal, he never knows what he will get in return. Sometimes he is punished, sometimes Hojo simply makes him feel like he is less than, which he might argue is worse than any physical punishment that he could be given.

Maybe he isn't supposed to hear him, or maybe it's the facade of it. Regardless, Sephiroth had already been halfway out the door of the VR room when he heard Hojo muttering under his breath. He didn't perform well, as he was still exhausted from yesterday's particularly brutal training. The beast he had faced had taken everything out of him, and while his numbers today were still above average, they were subpar for him.

He takes a deep breath, fighting down the emotions that well up inside him. If the professor has something to say, then he can say it to his face in the morning. He hurries out into the hallway, ignoring how his stomach twists with anxiety. You did your best, he tells himself, and that should be all that matters.

Darkness haunts your narrative || Accepting

Oh, Zack. Always so worried about him. Sephiroth thinks that it's unnecessary, even if it is appreciated. Maybe, deep down, he knows that all of this with Genesis and Angeal has done more harm to him than he ever cares to admit, but he's not supposed to show it. He's supposed to carry on, as always, with the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

Do you have to bear it alone?

Of course I do. Who else is there?

Sephiroth looks up from his computer, then sighs, shutting it in order to give Zack his full attention. "It's polite to knock," is all he says at first, even though he still gestures for Zack to sit down in the seat across from him. He'll humor him, at the very least.

"While your concern is appreciated, it's unfounded," is what he says next, crossing his legs to get more comfortable. "Is there something else on your mind?"

But he saw it.

His reflection blinked.

Of course it did. The person in the mirror seems more youthful, more wide-eyed and terrified than Cloud currently is. He is not in the uniform of a SOLDIER, but of a simple infantryman, and his eyes have lost that mako hue. Can't you remember? it says, hands pressing up against the glass. Don't you remember who you really are?

Images begin to flash in rapid succession. Nibelheim, the whole village burning to the ground, a hand desperately reaching out to the remains of his home, Zack collapsed on the stairs in the reactor, begging him to kill Sephiroth. Then pain. Pain pain and pain again. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why don't you remember? Why, why, w̵h̶y̶,̷ ̶w̵h̶y̷-̵

More images. Zack dragging his mostly unconscious body all the way back to Midgar. Zack dying, blood, blood, there is so much blood. W̸H̸Y̷ ̵I̵S̷ ̶T̸H̷E̷R̸E̵ ̶S̶O̴ ̵M̸U̸C̴H̸-̴

Are you ashamed?

Are you afraid to face the truth?

Do you think everyone will leave you if they find out you're lying?

Do you know who you are at all?

Grab my muse by the throat || Accepting

Ah, but isn't this exactly what he wants? For Cloud to give into that anger, that hatred, that rage? As fingers curl around his throat and begin to squeeze, all Sephiroth does is laugh. He laughs and he laughs because this is nothing more than a game to him, to see how far he can push it, how much he can make him do before the poor thing snaps. His precious, little puppet, doing exactly as he pleases.