An independently ran roleplay blog for Final Fantasy VII’s -- Magnar Valerio Heidegger; a spin on the character heavily based on headcanon and years worth of love from the mun; that draws heavily from both the original ffvii and the remake . penned by Han.

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@priceforeverything liked for a starter ( i chose nikolai! )

"This will be brief" he speaks amidst smoke, his cigarette held between the crook of two fingers, damn-near burnt to skin but a heat he'd pay no mind to. "I'm in need of somebody discreet - professional." He'd think on others he'd hired; the seedy crime boss, the self-righteous and the self-flagellating; the all-too-invested and the Shinra loyalists. No, Heidegger would need somebody disconnected, somebody easily bought and playing not for sport but instead only the win. Somebody unconcerned with needing to know 'why'. He offers the mercenary a smirk so fleeting, were Nikolai to blink, he'd miss it.

"From what I understand; you've a price in mind." A price for one's loyalty - Heidegger had met many man whose morals could be bought. Not that he'd judge them too harshly, after all, their appetite only mirrors his own. "And you have no ties..." no ties to Shinra, no use in him spilling secrets to whomever asks - all Heidegger would need to ensure is that he pays the man enough.

So, what was his price? How much for his loyalty?

@reunioned liked for a starter ( i chose rufus of c)

"Sir..." his hands are folded behind his back, fingers entwined - a stillness in his display unmoved despite an urge to fidget. Were he a younger man, he'd be cracking knuckles or shuffling his feet but Heidegger is not. His agitation, his desperation, his anger - he'd save it for his subordinates; every uncracked knuckle or untapped shoe would become fingers around a throat or a balled fist thrown at another.

"...Avalanche have escaped."

He'd grovel. He'd 'reassure' his dear leader that everything was under control, gush about how his soldiers were already hot on the trail of their adversaries...but the fact of the matter is that Heidegger has come to realise how little such sweet nothings mean to his President.

"And more of our own have turned up dead-" his eyes dart toward the ceiling, forcefully stopped at staring above to save them from entirely rolling at his own men's incompetence "murdered by 'the man in the black cape'." He'd not say his name, not entertain the idea that the former SOLDIER really was around and walking.

"I - of course - have sent my most elite in search of our adversaries-" his hands finally unfold, one placed flatly on his chest as if to pledge loyalty - he just can't help himself - but submit to his master.

@redhotsurf liked for a starter

He could criticise the Gold Saucer until he was blue in the face - bemoan the screaming kids, repetitive music, the flood of lights and sounds that would assault the senses but one thing he'd not dismiss is the entertainment. From theatre to battle, it would appear that the Gold Saucer had all bases covered, every man's poison picked regardless of their preference.

For Heidegger, that indulgence is violence.

To see men and women go head to head in the arena against beasts as awful as those made in Hojo's lab would be a pleasure most-welcome. A pleasure Heidegger looks forward to indulge in as he sits sipping Gold Saucer speciality cocktails at the battle arena lounge bar. His eyes captured by the man now sitting beside him, a man who looks to be the very sort to take part in such activity - half-drunk, Heidegger can't help but make a comment.

@fcntasyadvcnturc liked for a starter ( i chose jessie i hope you don't mind! )

Slow steps pace him back and forth before soldiers, their guns held with wary hands, pointed toward the woman; the rebel - the terrorist.

A sneer twists his lips as he speaks, disgust laced around every word as if Heidegger has known her and resented her her entire life - of course, he hasn't. In truth, he hardly knows her outside of security cameras and half-baked intel. His entire demeanour however acts not as if she dares the Shinra but rather his own family - his own blood.

"Your repeated attempts at this are beginning to get a little..." he breathes a sigh, as if eager himself to hand her the explosives needed not to take out one reactor but the whole lot. It could be fun, couldn't it? Even low level scum like Avalanche could be catalyst enough to start a war and were their efforts large enough - could the President really deny Heidegger such joy? Scheming aside, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well, boring."

He pays no mind to his troops as he pushes ahead of them, his disdain for them remaining unhidden as he tuts and rolls eyes at their reluctance. Hell, he'd snatch the gun and do the job himself but then - he'd not want to dirty his hands.

@silverwoodcursed liked for a starter (i chose GENESIISSSSSS)

"How is it-" he folds hands atop his desk, golden eyes locked onto the redhead with an unwavering look "to be such a successful..." soldier? Person? No - Heidegger smirks. "Weapon?" It almost pains him to give Hojo credit - the scientist seemingly capable of making something other than complete abominations. Then again, the Director would muse, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Smoke fills his lungs at the drag of his cigarette, his office adorned with the grey of his luxury - he'd offer one to the fellow, but then he assumes he'd not take it. Instead, Heidegger continues with a lick of his lips - ash on his tongue as he speaks.

@kychchc liked for a starter

"Well-" he leans over her shoulder from behind, words a whisper on the helix of her ear "what do you make of it, Madam Director?" Were one ignorant to their usual game of cat and mouse, one might think he's flirting - his lips almost on her skin as he speaks, his tone low and hands hard to keep off of her. To him - it's a tension he dares to crave; her attention, whether good or bad, is one any man (in his opinion) ought to want.

(( THANK YOU LOVELY, WE'RE DOING GOOD - my lil boy is a cute little stinker and i cant fault him for that lol takes after his mama