#ffxvverse!seph

It’d been a near thing.  The last vestiges of the Lucian kingdom had almost managed to successfully fight back.

Almost mattered not at all as Sephiroth descended the stairs of the dark, minimalist room, hardly bigger than a common cellar with a single bare bulb hanging at its center and a metal cabinet off to the side.  He was clearly in no particular hurry, each footstep audible.  Most of the work had been done for him; what magic jamming did not accomplish in order to control and contain the prince (King, he reminded himself), an endless stream of MTs and sheer exhaustion took care of.  Even while tired, it took several minutes, four people and a few good punches for him to give up enough to be bound to a metal chair.

The royal adviser had been handled in a similar manner in a separate room.  It had been interesting to take note of the similarities and differences of their techniques, and how in the end it had actually taken several powerful electric shocks via MT to get Scientia to his knees and bound -- and eventually dragged down the stairs after Sephiroth, to be secured to another metal chair on the opposite side of the small room.

He’d only needed to nod and the room was cleared, multiple footsteps quick up the stairs before a heavy door audibly sealed them off from the rest of the facility.  Barely glancing at his “guests”, the silver-haired man went about opening the metal cabinet, taking care not to obscure a wide variety of mostly sharp and gleaming objects inside.  “I must apologize, Your High--  Your Majesty.”  He deliberately corrected himself, words carelessly tossed over his shoulder.  “It might have been a great deal more polite to have invited you to join us here first.  Given that I’m certain you’d have ignored that, consider this a heavily insisted invitation.”

He could feel the eyes on his back, willing his death and worse.  Both so spirited, still.  But that was why he’d been given the task ahead of him, to be completed by any means he saw fit.  A little more personal than he preferred, but Sephiroth was hardly going to pass up the opportunity for praise.

@rin-a-din:

It was an unexpected confession that Noctis found it almost completely uncharacteristic of Sephiroth. Then again, he shouldn’t be eavesdroping on another man’s personal conversations. It was hard not to though. He’d been loosing his mind over the sheer bordom from the inactivity around the Citadel and not being allowed to go out.

Noctis would quietly mutter “Is it really possible to not trust yourself..?” just as he peeked around the corner to get a better look.

Arms crossed and appearing some combination of attentive and completely exhausted, Sephiroth spoke to someone unclear from Noctis’ point of view; but between the coat (cape?) and the visible portion of the boots, it was someone of high standing.  Sighing deeply, he finally scrubbed at his face with one hand before pulling long silver hair back over his shoulder.

“I’ll have to go back to Niflheim if you want more information.  It’s--”  Cutting himself off, Sephiroth narrowly avoided spotting the prince as he glanced around.  “Nothing’s safe there, anymore.  No paperwork or proof of citizenship is going to get me anywhere if there’s any indication I have ties with Lucis.  I don’t know what I can promise you or His Majesty anymore, but my return isn’t assured.”

He’d let himself become distracted.  That was unquestionable.

That was what annoyed him most, he supposed; his own willing distraction when he ought to have simply focused on his mission.  He’d turned his attention to the tank of a man - the bodyguard - because the combat had been intriguing, only to find that they were somewhat evenly matched, in ways.  Too many ways to easily avoid the combat, the distraction.  The prince had escaped with his life and the other two, after weeks of tracking, after so much effort.

Anger had been his advantage.  Anger at himself became anger at the bodyguard and Sephiroth had pushed his way through a stalemate of blocking blades with his shoulder, growled as he knocked the other man down and so very unwisely stabbed blindly.  Under normal circumstances, he was precise.  Under that one, it didn’t particularly matter what he hit, so long as there was blood.  He heard the hiss, saw the red on the ground--

Then petulantly kicked.  How very... beneath him, he thought, and yet effective.  It felt good, that brute force, kicking the breath out of the prince’s precious shield long enough to think, long enough to have the sense to thrust his katana entirely too hard through that tattooed shoulder, pinning him to the ground growing wet with red mud.  Assured that the blade was secure enough, he let the anger seethe into words.

“Gladiolus.  Eldest of the House Amicitia.”  Taking a step back, Sephiroth delivered another kick, directly to the bodyguard’s knee, but not particularly powerful.  Enough, it was enough.

“Shield of the royal family.  You’ve done your job admirably.”  That time he aimed to hurt, to break some ribs if he could.  There was a satisfying crack as boot met flesh.  Not satisfying enough.  He pulled back for another kick...

But dropped his foot instead, trying to gather himself.  To breathe, to rise above.  Hands unclenched, clenched.  Repeated.  He tried to be calm.  “All of this energy, wasted.  The empire’s investment.  And I’ll hear... all about my mistakes.”

@hearthandhcme:

Jaw set, teeth clenched tightly as he stood before the other. He hadn’t had a choice - there was no other way. He’d been fighting for this damn near his entire life. For hearth and home. That was what it had always been about. And yet it had been taking from him- more than once. Without a second thought, and here this man was telling him that, if he had just grit his teeth and bared with it another day that somehow anything would be different.

What a joke.

“My past is my pride. Who are you to tell me what I am proud of, or that the things I’ve accomplished aren’t things to be proud of?”

Crossing his arms and smirking openly, the stranger presented every sign of looking for a fight.  “You think you can sell part of your soul and just get the whole thing back?  Really?  I appreciate your long game, Titus, but to some, your loyalty is still in question.”

Send me 💬 and a character’s name for something my muse wished they had told them, but never did. 

He couldn’t have told her when he was a little too busy breaking apart, sharpened edge disintegrating.  The words caught in his throat, wouldn’t move past his tongue.  “It wasn’t your fault.  Nothing; none of it was your responsibility.  They were my poor choices, starting with keeping them from you.  And then I… suppose… my idiocy became clear.”

Despite all appearances otherwise, patience was not Sephiroth’s strong suit.  It was hardly in his vocabulary, though he did manage to find things to help him bide his time.  While certain more public figures of the Empire were content to be direct... he was still entertaining other methods.

There was some directness on his part needed to continue, however.  The anonymous messages sent back and forth with the blond commoner had been hopeful, but distance was required.  It hadn’t been until he’d gotten intelligence as to where the retinue were headed some weeks later when he decided enough time had passed.

Luck was something he believed in.  Clearly it was not on his side at times, but at others...  He smiled to himself, spotting just who he’d hoped to see.  Alone, away.  The light of the campfire was just barely in sight, three figures moving about, mostly out of view.  Now or never; and never was not an option.

His orders had been entirely too open-ended: Make a stir.  Draw some blood.  Make them feel unsafe in their own home, but don’t touch royalty.

That took some reflection.  Reflection in enemy territory, meandering around in borrowed black to fit in, slipping through the shadows.  Getting into the Citadel wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but watching long enough revealed holes.  They were only human; distractions of sounds and small thrown objects did wonders.

It wasn’t as easy to move around as he’d hoped either, but shifts in staff, changing of the guards, assured him reasonably unseen passage.  Sephiroth could identify several individuals who seemed a bit too high profile to bother... and then.  He stalked silently, waited.  Made absolutely certain there wasn’t another person in sight, his mark facing away from him and reaching to open a large wooden door--

@ofnoconsequence:

“I know that I’m hardly the most popular of men, but surely that’s going a bit far, don’t you think?” Unflappable, amber eyes regarded the silver haired man without much giving away what he thought of the statement. “Do be sure to keep your foot far from my ass, if you’d please. I don’t particularly fancy having it kicked by anyone, let alone you.”

He knew lines very well.  Boundaries.  He was absolutely certain he’d leaped over one, and not necessarily completely on purpose.  Not necessarily by accident, either.  When one was waiting to act, one got bored...