#lichsent

    ★ Fleeting thoughts and ideas that made him smile. That very word spoken to garner attention from the man behind his back? - attentively gazing and waiting patiently for whatever the warrior had to say that was near dying on the tip of his tongue, albeit spoken it does find itself moments passing later.

    ★ Oh, in instances flashing before his very eyes like these small, insignificant souls { they do seem like ants? } watched tentatively. Might there not be a question rising from attentive companion? Maybe stalled before it ever came to life. " ---Would you tell me about your 'God'? " Bits and pieces of conversations gathered when roaming halls, all of them dying down just when he crossed paths { obedient, were they not? when bowing in front of him like good little servants? }. " I only heard of it in passing, I am merely intrigued~ "

          ---and wouldn't it be a lie to not know that his own tongue, as sharp as ever, was a despised skill of his own? [ how long still, till this man decided to dispose of him? ]

         ★ Lips quirk into a smile when the other assumes what needs no validation to be correct or false { would he give one? }, so own replies find themselves stifled and that guidance applied to him all but yielded. 

         ★ But only for a breath. "Mayhap, but you seem amused by these realisations."

         ★ Until the King would let him go, nought to be meant in brushing off and away whatever visage the Soldier had worn before - there was not a single crack, still smiling the same way unexplained, enigmatical. "Nought much~ I mere thought to pay a visit while my group finds itself in the area." Left alone by their strongest one { would they come out of it alive? }.

         ★ Illuminated with nought but candles, but a glimmering fireplace, dying out slowly when tales as old as time had lost their charm and enchanting bewitchery. Sometimes just, he wonders, how this all had come to be, had been a swift change of 'fate' { if ever they were to believe in such nonsense }. Followed by a calculated shift of whole form, when he moves and stretches from his languorous thoughts in turning around once more { feline-like. had he not been called this is mocking chide before? }.

Christmas Present for Snii @lichsent  ♡~ ‘v ‘ Merry Christmas

     ★ Long evenings and passing times. They had decided on something while anything was for them to take { but what would that truly be? }. Spiralling thoughts mend and melted together, still torn apart by unspoken ideas. Those quickly averted glances - how curious of an amalgamation of two entities untouchable, being thrown together touched and unknowing to their true fates { or so they assume? }. It’s nearly laughable when finding each other anew. Whatever tumultuous disasters would be right in front of clouded eyes can be brushed off and away, just like tips of fingers, brushing along silken fabrics, covering unmarked skin.

    ★ Words then were hushed down to nothingness with the rupturing hum tearing apart loneliness of silence. Dragging hands higher and higher, discovering anew what was all theirs to behold— oh, it had all begun with a simple touch.

    ★ A distinctive way to approach these sorts of situations unbeknownst to both of them { or so it felt? }. An offer declaimed while merely passing by in the hallways, hurrying off to whatever place of carnage and war they would be self-assigned to and yet - enough of a proposal made to halt those steps briskly following an invisible trail. Acceptance conveyed with nought else but eyes, betraying amusement within themselves while only the warrior would be the one to read true nature of what would grow into reality in just a few hours, minutes, seconds - merged together and turned into a beautiful magnum opus of fire and smoke.

    ★ Why ever would Sephiroth want to bequeath these ticking pulses of someone’s fragility? Cradled closely? Carefully?

    ★ How comical, keeping in mind this time spent with one another, while time eludes them both { useless? discardable? }, for their eternity, belonging to one another, knowing well enough that nothing would be shown, not a single thing to be brought to the light. So, the swordsman could have laughed about the very picture perfect masquerade of true emotions painting themselves in fine shades and colours before attentive eye, yet? Decides not to. Decides to, on the opposite, merely smile.

    ★ Presenting a picture out of a long forgotten dream. Some state of normalcy they both never thought to acquire { for was the world not quite so cruel to them? do they deserve anything at all? }.

    ★ Leaning against the doorframe. Waiting for whatever drawled on painting would be filled with brightest colours, with those brushstrokes of movements soft and light. Stilled nearly, while being captivating, thrilling, in all their well-rehearsed gentility underlined with the faint chiming sounds ticking somewhere in the back of his mind { could Mannimarco hear? could he perceive? }. Ah, sometimes just, all evident it would become that the ex-soldier’s mind was in shambles. Shattered pieces of intelligence. Torn bits of reverence.

    ★ It all mattered not. For veneration could be acquired elsewhere, would be offered towards this person of undeniable worth. So, when Sephiroth deems it all prepared to a delicious detail relished in underlined with the softened sound of an exhaled breath, tall form shifts to push himself away from wooden surface. Urging to attention with an ongoing drum of footsteps, approaching closer and closer until desiring to lead { allure? } who would not succumb to another’s leadership. Yet here: it was wanted. It was needed. Their own play lest of a charade than both their engagement with the discardable mass of humankind.

    ★ Engagement now to be fulfilled in different ways. Reaching out with hands free of cover. Determining and discovering that unveiled arch of neck, travelling along within the very beating passion, slow drum beneath pale and near fragile skin.

    ★ With this very touch, the sounds inside his mind were growing louder and louder, till drowning themselves out towards a pleasant symphony with the fine faint lingering of a melody { like a piano’s? right? similar? discordant? } and then nothing anymore at all but heartbeats and intakes chased along each other in the hush of a very all-telling smile. He’s gotten lost, has he not? Far away drowned out in his own thoughts to be dragged back by iron fist, but still loosely curled around long and unbound strands. searching him - then guiding him. The King does demand the Knight’s attention, and attention he would give within the featherlight breath and touch along discardable material still clinging tightly to whatever piece of soft tissue in reach of eager hands.

    ★ They had seen each other bare and pure uncountable times before - and yet moments ticking away by the silvery chime of a click, more and more would they covet and seek these subtle notions of an underserved normalcy.

    ★ He could have sworn that letters had reared themselves to be strung together to words. To questions. To assumptions. And yet never coming into existence when he quietens all attempts with the softness of a single touch. Then another. Another. Another. And yet never quite enough.

    ★ Mapping out the intricacies of one another. The clock’s handle had dragged itself over pale face for an unknown amount of heartbeats. For a discardable prolonged silence in this evening that appears quite to be too long. Laughable notions when his form cants and head tilts so just that he could place the subtlety of a kiss along exposed show of finely crafted clavicle, a picture perfect nuance in otherwise blending integrity of that slender form moving and quivering just beneath him. Thoughts as mindless as breath being drawn, soon enough everything would be discarded { who would have thought that all of it would be what they truly had desired? }.

    ★ Instances passing; he feels himself being captivated. Nudge beneath his chin serves for rising head towards chasing shadows in the otherwise stark darkness of a barely lit room. Blinking once, then twice. Those unspoken queries that linger in the back of his mind again, brushed away the same moment thumb would caress bottom lip, abiding kiss offered - and greedily taken.

    ★ Such a stark opposite - each and every touch formerly offered had been so calm. So reluctant. Exploring each dip and each curve. Along those strong arms, winding around back placed comfortably into the silken softness of bedding? Inside of thighs, twitching with the anticipation of something more offered, shall they only desire to take that very simple step? The nape of neck, so feeble, so delicate, breakable in each other’s hands, yet caressed softly and near reverently? The hollow of one’s spine, ridges of bones followed like the heights of mountains? Yes, indeed, each and every touch had been wanted. Sought. Laid upon those that would destroy and conquer, with a gingerly grace that could be { was one really desiring to take a closer look? } only described as the dance between two calamities intentionally soothing one another.

    ★ Perhaps, in times like these. In the forlorn hopelessness of an empty mansion where eyes would always say more than a thousand words; their personal disaster could rest and wait for as long as they desire to touch.

     ★ And the fire finally burns itself out. Expires towards smouldering remains of nought else but cradled warmth. Unimaginable, to find soothing nuances of understanding in the togetherness of two monsters, beasts, the inhumane of power equally touching and feeling. It, indeed, had all begun with a simple touch.

    ★ Smiles dying upon lips in neverending hours of this lasting evening. One still would want to question { the why? the what? the when—? } and queries, all the same, would never leave lips. It’s a quiet pursuit of whatever there was to chase along each curve and line laid bare right in front of him, endlessly teasing and requiring within the subtle raptures of breaths taken, held, released in far too slow—

    ★ ---all that had died down to nothingness reaching ears like the fine symphony, made and composed by shifting skin, laboured breaths turning pliant, inaudible. While still, their mocking behaviour with one another in taunting towards edges, bordering on the very permissions given silently, pleadingly would never leave his memory anymore. Taken he had been with an iron grasp, same done as with a fistful of hair that would flow through slowly opening cracks between long { so gentle? far too gentle? } fingers. A foreign togetherness, to be pondered on later, while now the sudden crushing white noise floods senses once again with the metamorphosis of their own personal tranquillity, finally, seemingly, dying out towards the realisations of dawning the morning hours { it had been a piano, no? }.

    ★ ---and reduces itself once more when grasp on him relents but shifts. Surely enough, he found it mentally rewarding, soothing like a lullaby's deafening screams, to feel neck kept loosely in grasp and still perceive the strength rushing through each limb that would diminish discardable distance between them posthaste and within trembling desires. That hum? That very word soon released into the air around them? All enough to have a smile twitch upon his face, now hidden away by proximity claimed in eager grasp { would Mannimarco be disturbed by the fact he could not read his every thought anymore? }. Could have replied to it in the subtle timbre of something undeniably dark like the night breaking and devouring a dying day.

    ★ Could have uttered words of denial. Of approval. And does nought else but release the deepened sound somewhere in the back of his throat erupting upon grasp in his hair being so pretentiously gentle, waiting for it to tighten yet once more.

    ★ Receiving something else. Laughter. Touch upon shoulder. He knows encouragement when he feels it, and decides to take matters more into own hands. { what would they want? what would he want? was there even anything himself was unable to give? }. A symphony. A merry little song played out into the nothingness of only their breathing and the shift of palms wandering to be so desperate in explorations. The same time, a mimicry of sorts when he feels hand fall away; feels the sudden inclination - offering - of heat to spread over his chest in the wordless claim for more that, in the ticks of time that were enough to have head spin, melt into these curious demands.

    ★ So more, he shall give.

    ★ Said mimicry - now allowing for long fingers to lace along the offered slant of neck, barely applying any pressure sure at all, only meant and made to keep pale chill exposed to him { had it ever bothered? } with lips trailing along. He wanted to elicit a reaction. An action. Have him insist and take what nobody else would be allowed to hold { unholy? was it not a word that so many had murmured when only the warrior strode through the castle? }. Higher, along the end of jawbone flowing easily into sculpted arch of neck, where lips trace and chase some hidden wonder - so he kisses upon demand and heeds no demand at all.

@lichsent ♡~

     ★ Meeting? Had it been a meeting? Oh, surely. Surely. That very moment forces would clash for the merry reason of dominance unfolding on terrorized war-field. Perchance, one may want to call it a ‘quirk of fate’, how his group and himself had ended up being swept into this child’s play of nations, for however undoubtfully unwilling he had been to truly engage { but what was this world if not an accumulation of possibilities? }, until stepping up first of kin upon the ground filled with nought but dread and destruction.

    ★ It had been entertaining only ‘so far’.

    ★ Mindless squabble when watching flesh and bone being ground to all but discardable, measle remains, spread over the ground in attempts of red-shaded masterpiece. But still not enough. Never enough to make the Warrior truly find that little spark that would have him raise hand in striking down foe after foe { or whatever it could be called in this fight. iwas this engagement even his own? }. Why even - was he here? Mayhap, if truly considering to take a second’s worth glancing at the ‘reasoning’ behind it all? It was mere boredom. The very opportune mingling of two forces as sole inducement why Sephiroth had even agreed in coming along. A rare instance seeing with own eyes what the broken up ground and quaking ache of this world would bear beneath charred surface.

    ★ But why did he continue to stay here? When it was not what he had sought? Now taking steps over the bridge, weapon of his making far too quick, far too swift process with all those wandering and getting into his way for - undeniably - a force he was that would so many love to have on their side { and yet he was still the one choosing, for fame and glory, all those things offered to him in talks prior to this day? worthless, undeniably so. so why—? }. 

    ★ Was he still here?

    ★ Merely, what Sephiroth would jokingly call: fateful encounter. When watching that figure high above and on the edge of the monumental, invulnerable tower that so many had cursed at with whispered breaths, hissing softly into the darkness painfilled and wanting.

    ★ Eyes that had met? The very scrutinising raise of a brow, then knitting to a frown? Oh, he knows the other observed him. Knows he was watching him. Following him over the field of carnage. Might that very spectator laugh when only seeing the soldier dispose of another one or two minions of what could only be called his ‘enemy’ for the moment? Surely, in a sense and without truly hearing nor seeing it? - he knows just very well that this was the truth

    ★ That— “Accidentally.” —was their first glance at one another.

    ★ Caprices and arbitrariness. Thrown together just by some whim at in these chiming ticks of the clock { and then again and again? had he answered it enough already with a simple word as this? }. A smile that rose, unmoving past those very few twitches of muscles, higher and higher, before a low and dusky chuckle would fall from throat in the tainted wisdom that - by the end of all the time - destiny was sure so easy to find souls to intertwine. “Yes, it was an accident.” One that could have ended by the moment temper failed him and he decided that an unspoken challenge of eyes and faint curve of lips was enough to erase from the ground who so obviously was in the need to oppose the unknown. Ah, but if he thought about it more correctly? Even that had been a game. A little mingle with the possible.

    ★ After all, had the King not waited a moment far too long to stop what could have destroyed them all?

    ★ To take down what had so fascinated? To strike back against powers, so ultimately desired?