[cloud's taken back, momentarily, to a memory that seems so far-off; himself a child, looking at the screen with nothing but wide eyes and an enthusiasm that was uncommon to his usually taciturn demeanor. the war hero sephiroth, shown for all to see, standing with no inch of error for the cameras. a man cloud had look up to with such fervor that it moved him, so badly, to the point that he wanted to go to midgar, to be just like him—a hero in his own right.]
[he reels back whatever enthused fondness he may have felt, of childlike admiration, and commits to it by curling his hands into fists and leaving them at his sides, weighed down by will alone.]
No.
[past all that, he watches curiously, as if unable to contest away entirely the feeling. there is also that annoying pulse of recognition, of a connection barely there, that while unknown to him brings a sense of ease onto him.]
I want to say something to you.
[and that's when he steps forward, though not enough as to disturb sephiroth's space.]
Much as it pains me to say it— [a pause, conflicted, before he tries again.] You'd be right to want to abandon our truce.
no subject
[he reels back whatever enthused fondness he may have felt, of childlike admiration, and commits to it by curling his hands into fists and leaving them at his sides, weighed down by will alone.]
No.
[past all that, he watches curiously, as if unable to contest away entirely the feeling. there is also that annoying pulse of recognition, of a connection barely there, that while unknown to him brings a sense of ease onto him.]
I want to say something to you.
[and that's when he steps forward, though not enough as to disturb sephiroth's space.]
Much as it pains me to say it— [a pause, conflicted, before he tries again.] You'd be right to want to abandon our truce.