“Oh no... is this part of the whole ‘you’ll be visited by three ghosts’ speech I encountered last night? I very much like my lifestyle and wish not for it to be disturbed.”

      Surprises have never been high up on Cloud’s list of likes. Could he handle them? Probably. Would he get over them? Absolutely. However, that stretch of time between the surprise and recovery━that was where Cloud’s issue lied; those brief moments of discomfort and disorientation as his mind scrambled to right itself and regain its footing━that was what Cloud hated most.

         There was no looming sense of uncertainty while he makes the familiar trek to sector five; he’d made this exact same walk many times over, and he’s long since become numb to what to expect. The residents even all seemed to reside in relatively the same areas every time he came, the same faces greeting him at the gate, the same people lingering around the shops. Some of them greet him, and he nods in return ( merely by reflex alone; he can’t come up with the majority of their names, much less an interest in them ). Same old, same old.

         Until, quite literally, it was not the same old, same old. Gaia, did he HATE surprises.

        Bit by bit, and then all at once, his calm shatters. His heart races, his hands clammy, and his footsteps come to an immediate halt. His hand immediately falls back to grasp the hilt of his sword as he stares ahead with barely ( poorly ) concealed panic at a form he never in his life wanted to lay eyes on again. Sephiroth.

@scphiroth​ They never said what came after the story finished. Once upon a time was always followed by The End. The book was closed, returned to the shelf and forgotten. The heroes, the villains, triumphs, and tragedies were washed away as time faded the ink. And yet, Genesis remained. As the loose pages falling slow. He drifted on the wind, aimless. There was no narrative to drive him. There was no ShinRa, no SOLDIER, no dreams…

Somehow, this meant he wandered until he came upon a small village. Nestled deep in the mountains of Wutai, once a land of enemies, now… the only thing of him that Genesis even recognized. Yet, there, in the quiet peasant life, even Wutai was foreign. Frankly, he had not intended on staying there long. While not a prominent figure as a certain silver demon, recognition was hardly something he wished for. He had no more battles left in him.

But the weeks turned into months, and those months into nearly a year. And in the near-empty pages of his self, Genesis found the ink begin to write again. In a world so different from his, a world he had sought to actively destroy in the name of some self-centered desire, there was a seed planted in him. Unblossomed, he nonetheless felt it. Peace.

Life in the village was quaint. They were mostly farmers, spending their days in terraced fields carved out of the mountainside. Apparently, they once lived in the valley where a cataclysmic event had literally disintegrated everything and everyone there, save for those who were outside the radius of an insurmountable wall of fire. Up in the mountains, they found refuge. Although, it was not without strife. Monsters too made their home here, often preying on the unsuspecting farmer who was by himself.

In exchange for his food and shelter, Genesis made the problem disappear. The villagers called him a samurai. And amongst them, perhaps he was. But even here, doing as he was, he felt no honor, only a penance long overdue.

So, when he was approached about a fearsome silver demon that had holed itself up in the shrine, Genesis did not delay. After so brutal a storm as they had the last few days, it was not surprising to him that something had taken refuge in the villager’s shrine to some deity they worshipped. Neither did it alarm him how they described the monster. Sephiroth’s influence in the everyday culture of the Wutainese had rooted itself in their colloquialisms. A silver demon could be anything from a hellhound to a Marlboro—the only qualifier was that it brought destruction and despair wherever it went. Sometimes it was assigned to the unknown, and the fear within.

Using the sheath of his sword, Genesis slid the shrine door open. “…Begone, spirit,” He said crudely in that Wutain tongue, so distant from his own. While perhaps his prior self would have rushed in and merely slaughtered whatever it was that had taken residence, now… was different. If he could startle whatever it was into leaving, it was unlikely bloodshed was necessary.

basically i just have to stand at the entrance of your room and be touched in places on my body?

        *flinch*

It was supposed to be a simple mission; destroy the monsters invading one of Shinra's many bases outside of Midgar. The Turk found himself questioning why Shinra had so many research facilities away from their mainline, but it wasn't his place to. Why not destroy them if they weren't being used? It was just a liability.

This very mission was a prime example. Shinra wasn't very smart, were they, despite the advancements in technology they'd made.

But the silver was a TURK, first and foremost, and his job was to carry out orders given, not QUESTION them. And after that...Leslie was more than the title he had been given.

Another failure of Shinra's that was just being put to use in any way they could make use of him. For the amount of Gil invested into his CREATION, had cost them from their gold-lined pockets.

And to accompany his fragile failure of an existence? The very man he'd supposedly been created to replicate; Sephiroth.

Leslie was pathetic in terms of physical prowess, better at missions that required a heavy amount of tact and stealth, but could also be called to fight if the occassion rose for it. It simply just wasn't his area of expertise. Combat-heavy missions were reserved for other Turks, SOLDIERS.

Not him.

And while it was abundantly clear why they'd assigned the famous First-Class to this mission as well, Sephiroth's presence only served to confuse the shorter silver. Why was HE here then?

That was a question Leslie soon found himself answering, after the facility was infiltrated, the monsters destroyed. But they hadn't been any found in the wild, no. The creatures inside the facility--LAB, were Shinra's creations. The methods were beyond barbaric, some even had HUMAN features that further disturbed the golden-eyed Turk.

Leslie knew who he was--WHAT he was, and he'd never questioned it. Never questioned the terrible things Shinra did to him. Never questioned his loyalty as their servant.

Not until this specific moment.

Screaming rikocheted off the metallic walls, the silver's own voice as he fell to his knees, gripping his head in both of his hands in agony. His head BURNED with white hot pain, as did his body as the memories flooding back to him of all the painful procedures he'd undergone. Procedures that his body bore no evidence of due to his unique healing factor. No scars, nothing.

" I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!! "

@scphiroth​ | X

          PATIENCE RUNS THIN in the presence of one who’d rather see the balance come unraveled than see its preservation maintained. A new war, another fight that they’re subjected to. Warriors of alignment to light && others to dark had been stripped from their homes all over again to fight yet another everlasting battle at the behest of deities younger than those from before. Memories retained, that which comes with a haze of surprise though hardly acted upon or mentioned to the others (other than simple acknowledgement). && it’s in that retention of remembrance that she extracts the memories that give her well enough of an idea as to the destruction that this other could ensue. Therefore, let caution be implemented in the presence of he. Wherein she studies his presence, a calculative pan of gaze from head to toe in some hopeful registry to the body language exuded---but it’s steeled. 

                                            Just the same as she.