[surely all this a tale for some other time, likely frustrating that all these pieces keep falling onto his lap yet sephiroth receives no complete understanding of what made those circumstances happen in the first place. it comes from cloud not having any particular interest in getting into detail—finding it unnecessary—and his eyes lock instead on the way sephiroth seems to steer away, something lost and unbidden in his usually calculated gaze.]
[cloud isn't certain what drives him, but he's reaching forward with his hand and grabbing hard onto a leather-bound arm, a connection bursting forth like sparks: synchronicity and jenova cells alike, alight in a warmth that sweeps away any deterioration caused by neglect from either of their behalves.]
[this time, cloud is ready for it, braces himself for the impact, but it's almost like the surge of atomic conflagrations ignite at the touch of the source, whirlwind around a memory not shared but existing somewhere in the recesses of his mind (or someone else's own?). sephiroth, standing before jenova, a look of determined happiness on his face, mother—together, we will reclaim this world, a promise, a threat to the planet. it nearly sends cloud for another stumble to the side, but he remains determined, anchored to the spot as the visions flash before his eyes—]
[and it's like he comes to understand something.]
[fear surges like bile to his throat, and cloud understands that he cannot let sephiroth conjure up whatever delusions he has of jenova, of his mother, and tarnish it into something deadly.]
[his grip tightens, leather on leather, and cloud's reluctant to let go, bites out through the pain.]
no subject
[surely all this a tale for some other time, likely frustrating that all these pieces keep falling onto his lap yet sephiroth receives no complete understanding of what made those circumstances happen in the first place. it comes from cloud not having any particular interest in getting into detail—finding it unnecessary—and his eyes lock instead on the way sephiroth seems to steer away, something lost and unbidden in his usually calculated gaze.]
[cloud isn't certain what drives him, but he's reaching forward with his hand and grabbing hard onto a leather-bound arm, a connection bursting forth like sparks: synchronicity and jenova cells alike, alight in a warmth that sweeps away any deterioration caused by neglect from either of their behalves.]
[this time, cloud is ready for it, braces himself for the impact, but it's almost like the surge of atomic conflagrations ignite at the touch of the source, whirlwind around a memory not shared but existing somewhere in the recesses of his mind (or someone else's own?). sephiroth, standing before jenova, a look of determined happiness on his face, mother—together, we will reclaim this world, a promise, a threat to the planet. it nearly sends cloud for another stumble to the side, but he remains determined, anchored to the spot as the visions flash before his eyes—]
[and it's like he comes to understand something.]
[fear surges like bile to his throat, and cloud understands that he cannot let sephiroth conjure up whatever delusions he has of jenova, of his mother, and tarnish it into something deadly.]
[his grip tightens, leather on leather, and cloud's reluctant to let go, bites out through the pain.]
Look at me.