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[supersoldier]

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he does what he wants

[lapses]

[ apparently, he is going to the beach. really, sephiroth? is he going there to trample zack's sandcastles?

even if he prefers the inner city, vincent has made the surrounding trees work to his advantage. they aren't the same as the concrete floors or hard tiles of rooftops, but they still have sturdy arms to hold his weight and foliage to conceal him from sight. he unfortunately has to lose the cover they provide if he wants to follow sephiroth any further. stilling his advances, his gloved right hand grips onto a nearby branch as he watches him traipse onto the sand.

he needs to make a decision quick.

swiftly bounding a couple of trees over, he adds a wide berth between them before he finally hops down onto the ground. if he can't continue trailing him, then he will simply adjust his tactics then. suits him just fine. with a grimace, vincent steps onto the sandy shore, his gilded boots sinking slightly into soft sand.

with a quiet inhale, he starts in the direction of where he last left the former SOLDIER. time for the direct approach. ]

[supersoldier]

[The rustling shadow dissipates, left only with the slow swaying of branches, nothing showing itself in its wake. Still, Sephiroth’s gaze is both steady and piercing with their mako-bright hue, quiet as he awaits anything that might approach to meet him — and he doesn’t have to wait terribly long.

He doesn’t recognize the cut of the figure that nears, not his red-clad form or the stoic leveling of his gaze. Sephiroth’s own countenance is steeled and so unmoving that it might as well be a thing frozen in time, but that’s hardly new when the approach of strangers are upon him.

He waits until he’s near enough, when both of their boots have sunk into the shallow domes of sand, and then—]

Have you been following me?

[lapses]

[ it's strange to see him up close, almost surreal in the way the man slowly shifts from being a mere target to a haunting, lifelike being made of flesh and blood. the more the gap between them lessens, the more he makes out subtle differences in him from the sephiroth seared into his memories. he is much younger, for one, and... he can't quite explain it, but there lacks the same darkness that the one he knew exuded. a certain lightness, he supposes.

it's conflicting to see him again, so alive and real. a part of him wants nothing more than to pull out death penalty and put an end to the turbulence arising within him, but another part of him— another part of him is curious to see what this boy was like before the mistakes he had made ruined him.

this is lucrecia's son, the one who he'd failed to save from a project he should have never been a part of. a boy he should have done more to protect from an ill fate.

silently, he stops a few short feet away from him, the torn ends of his red cloak billowing gently against a warm breeze. he doesn't answer him; his eyes — a cooling ember — instead meets steel green with unreadable resolve. he searches them for even the barest of signs, anything to tip him off to the manipulative and delusional man he knew.

he comes up empty. ] No. [ his tone is as cold as the rest of him, yet there is something profoundly decisive in the way he regards him now. ] Not you.

[ and with that said, he moves to brush past him, long hair lapping against his shoulders with the flow of the wind. ]

[supersoldier]

[The man’s look is so lingering, so intense, that it knifes through Sephiroth as though he were made of nothing, and a person more easily intimidated might be cowed by it, despite the silence. But he meets that fixed stare with one of his own, though he cannot stop the arch of a pale brow rising in expectation — that isn’t the kind of look granted someone who has nothing to say, or intends to do nothing in turn. Masamune, however, often does its job in giving potential assailants second thoughts, but even then, Sephiroth cannot sense the minute tells of a man about to shift into the offensive.

In fact, it’s hard to sense anything at all about this man, other than a constant stoicism that he, too, sometimes employs. But at least Sephiroth has the habit of making his intentions clear.

Instead, he’s granted no explanation. Brushed aside, the edges of the man’s cape fluttering behind him as he drifts past.]

No one else has gone this way.

[He says, turning in the sand to face Vincent as he tries to move away. It’s a simple statement that also functions as a call out; if he wasn’t following him, then who? The beach is emptied of people, and the path he cut through the trees was equally bereft of civilization.]

[lapses]

[ don't fucking call him out.

he expected as much from him though. sephiroth is as perceptive as ever, but vincent wasn't exactly attempting to be stealthy here. slowing to a stop, he angles his face to the side, showing only the slope of his nose through the loose veil of his bangs. ]

Your point?

[supersoldier]

[He can call you out if he so please, thank you very much. Case in point, and said so bluntly as though to illustrate how much he doesn't particularly care for whatever reason this man is being vague about his intentions.]

The point is that you were following me. Why?

[Again, this is not a man nor a face he recognizes.

[lapses]

[ nah, he is going to stick to his guns on this. ]

I wasn't following you.

arises from the dead

[supersoldier]

[Isn’t that nice, the application of two stubborn personalities— whose will falter first, or will this just an exercise in futility... and also a trashfire in the making.]

Being upfront makes you seem less unfavorable than sticking to an obvious lie.

wb to the land of the living

[lapses]

[ let's go with the latter.

but at least sephiroth got him to turn back around to face him. ]

Then it's a good thing I'm not here to seek your favor.

[supersoldier]

[He is already getting the impression that this man is a stubborn one, that or purposefully obtuse. It's too early to tell which, as disinclined as he (they both are) to speak and explain.]

Who are you?

[How about they (re)start with that.]

[lapses]

Introduce yourself first.

[ isn't it impolite to ask someone who they are without doing as much yourself? ]

[supersoldier]

[His lips twitch into a frown. It is not so much pride or impoliteness (though maybe a tinge of the former), but how foreign it is to Sephiroth -- for those to not know his name or face upon first glance, for recognition to not sweep through an individual automatically thanks to Shinra's endless marketing push back on Gaia.

It lends to this being an even more alien place that he's comfortable with. A newness that he's not sure he will be able to adjust to.]

...My name is Sephiroth. [There, happy?] Is that introduction enough for you?

[lapses]

[ he seems satisfied by his answer — or at least as satisfied as someone whose features never deter from impassiveness can be. ]

Vincent. [ there's no harm in telling him his name, no risk of recognition. ]

[supersoldier]

[Indeed, it's not a name that he would attach an association to. It's debatable that Vincent Valentine would have even sparked any recognition; not that Sephiroth is granted even that much of a name in the other man's unaffected nature.]

So then what are you doing here, Vincent?

[The beach offers nothing to the wayward travelers, only a stretch of sand and a view that glimmers beneath the burden of the sun. Of course, that does make one wonder why Sephiroth has deigned to travel this way, too.]

[lapses]

Same as you are.

[ he looks out past the sandy shore towards the seemingly endless expanse of sea water. it's certainly a breathtaking view, yet its beauty is unfortunately dimmed by the company in question. ]

Exploring. [ last he checked, sephiroth didn't own the beach. ]