[The minutes unfold and reality shapes itself back to normal: Cloud’s consciousness slotting back into place just enough to flare with indignation, a correction, and a weak push to detach from Sephiroth fully.
He won’t coddle him; he wouldn’t care to, anyway. In fact, if Cloud isn’t going to end up a sprawled mess on the ground, then Sephiroth isn’t compelled to fuss and fret — instead, he chooses to stand. At his full height, one might call him looming, but he’s kept his sword in the grass to abate any sense of antagonism.
Yet there is one sticking point that he will not release so easily. He gazes down at Cloud, malachite eyes shining with cold intensity.]
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He won’t coddle him; he wouldn’t care to, anyway. In fact, if Cloud isn’t going to end up a sprawled mess on the ground, then Sephiroth isn’t compelled to fuss and fret — instead, he chooses to stand. At his full height, one might call him looming, but he’s kept his sword in the grass to abate any sense of antagonism.
Yet there is one sticking point that he will not release so easily. He gazes down at Cloud, malachite eyes shining with cold intensity.]
...Jenova. How do you know that name?