[Most of him wants to catch him in that. He wants to ask if hell's frozen over, if he's cooking for himself while he's here, but other than a faint sound of acknowledgement, he lets it lie. If Sephiroth has grown thin, he can take a pretty good guess why.
...And that's not anything he wants to go into, either.
He simply focuses on leading the way, and before long, they arrive at an apartment building. It's hardly the most glamourous of places. The outside is dingy, strewn with rubbish and it's not exactly in the nicest area of town, but as they make their way into the complex and to the correct apartment, it's better on the inside at least. It's pretty large, expansive, with large windows, wooden floors, and it lets in quite a lot of light.
...And yeah, it's spartan. Other than a barely used sofa, the living room is more or less vacant of, well, anything. No tables, no furniture, and certainly no TV. (Though knowing Angeal, perhaps the latter wouldn't be a surprise.)]
[No more spartan than his own living space, which is saying something, given Sephiroth has been here for a month longer than Angeal’s arrival. But that, too, should be nothing surprising. Sephiroth had always lived like a military utilitarian, seeing no need for opulence or excess — his friend would know that.
But as he moves to set aside the other SOLDIER’s purchase on the nearest flat surface, the question can be seen stiffening his shoulders. A moment in which his hands freeze while placing down the rice cooker, until time moves on again, seconds crawling by like nothing happened.]
No. [With a tone devoid of any emotion, purposefully so, one might wonder what’s the point in the presence of this man.] He isn’t here. I think for now, that’s for the best.
[Honestly, Sephiroth. If on the rare occasion he can't see through you, you kind of make it easy sometimes by becoming even more unyielding.
But he should have guessed. Even... as disconnected to Shinra he had been since he defected, he could still take an (educated) guess as to what happened post-Modeoheim. He knew the company well enough, after all- and in his mind, the company would believe Genesis was dead.
Him, personally? ...Yeah. But death, non-death, irrelevant. Even if he wasn't, it wouldn't be long before he was, but even then- it'd be slow. Painful. (Pain. That bothers him to think about. It's marked by a brief scowl, a momentary darkening of his eyes, but he doesn't comment on it.)]
...What... I am...
[A monster.]
...Is different here. What Hollander wanted from me, [The conduit. The reason Shinra enabled his existence, and what made him less.] I can't do. Tried. Probably shouldnt've, but I wanted to know. Something's changed. I wondered, if he was around, somewhere, if the same would apply to him.
[And would it mean either of them had any right to exist? ...Jury's still out on that one.]
[The pause hangs heavy before Sephiroth situates the rice cooker properly on the table, turning around to face Angeal. Though it is an ultimately futile effort, the silver-haired SOLDIER keeps his expression schooled as he looks at his friend, as though it is the easiest way (the only way) he knows how to approach where this conversation has begun to tread.
He hates the feeling of ball bearings in his throat. Inefficient and unasked for. He pushes through as always.]
Angeal... this place is one of changes. [He means that literally, though perhaps figurative would be just as well.] Many here have lost their abilities from home. And everyone has gained something new.
[In magic. In monstrous forms that appear like clockwork, month to month. Still, Sephiroth's gaze sharpens.]
And yet that doesn't make what was done any less- [A pause. What's the right word?] -affecting. You don't need to explain anything to me. The company's lies are like a web; I think I may have been caught in them, as well.
[And Sephiroth's right- talking about these things isn't going to lead to any possible way of viewing something somewhat differently, to any plausible revelation. To anything, really. And the philosophical question of a monster being a monster if it's defanged has an answer that he knows well, already.
Of course it is. Even if everyone else was one here, it doesn't change anything.
So he's eager to switch focus. His eyes follow Sephiroth as he moves, sharpening, faintly, to watch the microexpressions unfold over his face, telling of thier own story when Sephiroth's words were not, and a hand moves to rub his face at what he says.]
You don't have to explain it to me, either. But if you want to, I'm listening. Could even-
[Ah. It crossed his mind to say something sardonic, like if a liar knew a liar, surely someone lied to would be in a good position to confirm or deny Sephiroth's suspicions.
But no. The statement's far too serious for joviality. He cares too much. He finds the corners of his lips pulling downward.]
If it feels wrong, it is. You've had far too good a head on your shoulders for too long for paranoia.
[A good head on his shoulders. It feels as though Angeal is the only person that would say something so flattering of Sephiroth these days; no one else places that kind of trust in his hands, not anyone from their Planet, at least.
His shoulders rise from a deep inhale, let out silently, before a reply comes.]
You would say that.
[Despite the plain delivery, there is something a little fonder in that statement.]
There are many others here from our Planet. Like the two of us, many of them come from disparate timelines. They are all from my future.
[Perhaps Angeal knows where this is going. Things did not go well for two of his friends, who were 1st Classes like himself; why should he be immune from the tragedy of the fate, spun by Shinra itself?]
They don’t have kind things to say about me. [To say the least.]
[He can take a stab at it, sure, he could place Sephiroth in his and Genesis' (sinking) boats as a hypothetical, but imagining it isn't anything that sticks with him as probable. And why should it? Both he and Genesis, to him, were created under Hollander's project. Hollander is a man he knows as both a hack and an idiot. Sephiroth under Hojo... was different. Right?
Hojo might have been a creepy bastard, but... Surely the same idiocy couldn't have taken place under two different scientists. Soyeah. The monster thing doesn't stick.
So his mind turns to some of the other ways working for Shinra happened to suck.]
...Whatever they had you do, it's the job. It's not you. The fact you're bothered about it shows that.
[Angeal's reassurance is such a familiar thing. Easy to slip into, easy to sharpen his focus onto what matters. The problem lies in these unusual circumstances; were his focus has been too long on questions about himself, not some mission flung into their laps via the Shinra higher-ups, something that a SOLDIER can well and truly lose himself in.
This place's problem is that it gives Sephiroth too much time to think. And that is dangerous for a man like him, whose doubts have already needled deeper into his mind than anyone--even himself--can give him credit for.]
I don't know anymore, Angeal.
[Sephiroth seems to command his countenance to fall in-line, harden and shake off the remnant of these thoughts for now. His arms cross.]
Many of these questions can't be confronted until I return home. That is the simple reality.
[Indeed, thinking is a dangerous thing. Better to be busy, to play the part of the guy that simply followed orders, be it orders that involved being lapdog or enforcer. That was how they'd always got by, wasn't it? To leave the thinking, the awful truth of everything to higher pay grades, people paid solely for their talent at leaving their morals at the door. Paid sociopaths, essentially.
To be unthinking, unfeeling, was the SOLDIER way. Because the alternative was oblivion.
Hell, it was the way throughout the Company. From the most senior members of the board to the lowest interns, fronts were vital. But for them in particular, he, Sephiroth, and Genesis- all they could do was direct the parts of them that couldn't keep up the pretense any longer at each other- under so many bizarre excuses that made up their friendship. Training, drills, improvement for Sephiroth- Jealousy, the desire to overcome and to surpass for Genesis, and for him?
...A number of things. But it wasn't just that. To him, it was touching base. To re-establish, even in the most minute sense, that he could still care for others. To make sure that the two people he cared for most didn't drown in the thoughts that came between missions.
Things were that simple once. But his own thoughts had overwhelmed him.
But.]
Well, I do. Most people think you're a real piece of work underneath the hero thing the marketing department pulled on you.
[A real piece of work. It's... vaguely funny. Because he's nothing close. He's... awkward, sure. Growing up the way he did saw to that. A little arrogant, of course- and again, cause and effect of being the person he is, having the gifts he has. Closed with most, consummately professional in word and in deed- even when said deed is forcing his blade through the Company's enemies.
Yet he knows more. Sephiroth's a quiet person. Sensitive, even. He dwells, he thinks, even when he knows he shouldn't. But he has a sense of humour. And even a side which tends to allow for some extremely ...interesting acts in recreation time such as a certain question of whether or not he could use the masamune as a javelin. ]
Thirds to seconds're mostly afraid of you, Firsts... [A faint laugh.] Either think they're going to be the next you, or they resent you because they're at the peak of everything they can be, but they're nowhere close.
[His eyes meet his, then.]
But that's never bothered you.
[It only bothered him with Genesis. Because he opened himself to him, more than likely. But.]
So this? It's something else. And if you can only answer it when you get back, then I guess all I can do is take the edge off. So, we're training. Don't have a blade, so it'll have to be hand-to-hand. Hope you're as rusty as me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote2021-01-21 03:30 pm
no subject
[Most of him wants to catch him in that. He wants to ask if hell's frozen over, if he's cooking for himself while he's here, but other than a faint sound of acknowledgement, he lets it lie. If Sephiroth has grown thin, he can take a pretty good guess why.
...And that's not anything he wants to go into, either.
He simply focuses on leading the way, and before long, they arrive at an apartment building. It's hardly the most glamourous of places. The outside is dingy, strewn with rubbish and it's not exactly in the nicest area of town, but as they make their way into the complex and to the correct apartment, it's better on the inside at least. It's pretty large, expansive, with large windows, wooden floors, and it lets in quite a lot of light.
...And yeah, it's spartan.
Other than a barely used sofa, the living room is more or less vacant of, well, anything. No tables, no furniture, and certainly no TV. (Though knowing Angeal, perhaps the latter wouldn't be a surprise.)]
That's great. Set it down anywhere.
[And.]
So, you seen Genesis?
[He had to ask.]
no subject
But as he moves to set aside the other SOLDIER’s purchase on the nearest flat surface, the question can be seen stiffening his shoulders. A moment in which his hands freeze while placing down the rice cooker, until time moves on again, seconds crawling by like nothing happened.]
No. [With a tone devoid of any emotion, purposefully so, one might wonder what’s the point in the presence of this man.] He isn’t here. I think for now, that’s for the best.
no subject
[Honestly, Sephiroth. If on the rare occasion he can't see through you, you kind of make it easy sometimes by becoming even more unyielding.
But he should have guessed.
Even... as disconnected to Shinra he had been since he defected, he could still take an (educated) guess as to what happened post-Modeoheim. He knew the company well enough, after all- and in his mind, the company would believe Genesis was dead.
Him, personally? ...Yeah. But death, non-death, irrelevant. Even if he wasn't, it wouldn't be long before he was, but even then- it'd be slow. Painful. (Pain. That bothers him to think about. It's marked by a brief scowl, a momentary darkening of his eyes, but he doesn't comment on it.)]
...What... I am...
[A monster.]
...Is different here. What Hollander wanted from me, [The conduit. The reason Shinra enabled his existence, and what made him less.] I can't do. Tried. Probably shouldnt've, but I wanted to know. Something's changed. I wondered, if he was around, somewhere, if the same would apply to him.
[And would it mean either of them had any right to exist?
...Jury's still out on that one.]
I thought you should know.
no subject
He hates the feeling of ball bearings in his throat. Inefficient and unasked for. He pushes through as always.]
Angeal... this place is one of changes. [He means that literally, though perhaps figurative would be just as well.] Many here have lost their abilities from home. And everyone has gained something new.
[In magic. In monstrous forms that appear like clockwork, month to month. Still, Sephiroth's gaze sharpens.]
And yet that doesn't make what was done any less- [A pause. What's the right word?] -affecting. You don't need to explain anything to me. The company's lies are like a web; I think I may have been caught in them, as well.
no subject
[And Sephiroth's right- talking about these things isn't going to lead to any possible way of viewing something somewhat differently, to any plausible revelation. To anything, really. And the philosophical question of a monster being a monster if it's defanged has an answer that he knows well, already.
Of course it is.
Even if everyone else was one here, it doesn't change anything.
So he's eager to switch focus. His eyes follow Sephiroth as he moves, sharpening, faintly, to watch the microexpressions unfold over his face, telling of thier own story when Sephiroth's words were not, and a hand moves to rub his face at what he says.]
You don't have to explain it to me, either. But if you want to, I'm listening. Could even-
[Ah. It crossed his mind to say something sardonic, like if a liar knew a liar, surely someone lied to would be in a good position to confirm or deny Sephiroth's suspicions.
But no. The statement's far too serious for joviality. He cares too much.
He finds the corners of his lips pulling downward.]
If it feels wrong, it is. You've had far too good a head on your shoulders for too long for paranoia.
no subject
His shoulders rise from a deep inhale, let out silently, before a reply comes.]
You would say that.
[Despite the plain delivery, there is something a little fonder in that statement.]
There are many others here from our Planet. Like the two of us, many of them come from disparate timelines. They are all from my future.
[Perhaps Angeal knows where this is going. Things did not go well for two of his friends, who were 1st Classes like himself; why should he be immune from the tragedy of the fate, spun by Shinra itself?]
They don’t have kind things to say about me. [To say the least.]
no subject
[He can take a stab at it, sure, he could place Sephiroth in his and Genesis' (sinking) boats as a hypothetical, but imagining it isn't anything that sticks with him as probable. And why should it? Both he and Genesis, to him, were created under Hollander's project. Hollander is a man he knows as both a hack and an idiot. Sephiroth under Hojo... was different.
Right?
Hojo might have been a creepy bastard, but...
Surely the same idiocy couldn't have taken place under two different scientists.
Soyeah. The monster thing doesn't stick.
So his mind turns to some of the other ways working for Shinra happened to suck.]
...Whatever they had you do, it's the job. It's not you. The fact you're bothered about it shows that.
no subject
This place's problem is that it gives Sephiroth too much time to think. And that is dangerous for a man like him, whose doubts have already needled deeper into his mind than anyone--even himself--can give him credit for.]
I don't know anymore, Angeal.
[Sephiroth seems to command his countenance to fall in-line, harden and shake off the remnant of these thoughts for now. His arms cross.]
Many of these questions can't be confronted until I return home. That is the simple reality.
no subject
Better to be busy, to play the part of the guy that simply followed orders, be it orders that involved being lapdog or enforcer. That was how they'd always got by, wasn't it? To leave the thinking, the awful truth of everything to higher pay grades, people paid solely for their talent at leaving their morals at the door. Paid sociopaths, essentially.
To be unthinking, unfeeling, was the SOLDIER way. Because the alternative was oblivion.
Hell, it was the way throughout the Company. From the most senior members of the board to the lowest interns, fronts were vital. But for them in particular, he, Sephiroth, and Genesis- all they could do was direct the parts of them that couldn't keep up the pretense any longer at each other- under so many bizarre excuses that made up their friendship. Training, drills, improvement for Sephiroth- Jealousy, the desire to overcome and to surpass for Genesis, and for him?
...A number of things.
But it wasn't just that. To him, it was touching base. To re-establish, even in the most minute sense, that he could still care for others. To make sure that the two people he cared for most didn't drown in the thoughts that came between missions.
Things were that simple once.
But his own thoughts had overwhelmed him.
But.]
Well, I do. Most people think you're a real piece of work underneath the hero thing the marketing department pulled on you.
[A real piece of work. It's... vaguely funny. Because he's nothing close. He's... awkward, sure. Growing up the way he did saw to that. A little arrogant, of course- and again, cause and effect of being the person he is, having the gifts he has. Closed with most, consummately professional in word and in deed- even when said deed is forcing his blade through the Company's enemies.
Yet he knows more. Sephiroth's a quiet person. Sensitive, even. He dwells, he thinks, even when he knows he shouldn't. But he has a sense of humour. And even a side which tends to allow for some extremely ...interesting acts in recreation time such as a certain question of whether or not he could use the masamune as a javelin. ]
Thirds to seconds're mostly afraid of you, Firsts... [A faint laugh.] Either think they're going to be the next you, or they resent you because they're at the peak of everything they can be, but they're nowhere close.
[His eyes meet his, then.]
But that's never bothered you.
[It only bothered him with Genesis. Because he opened himself to him, more than likely. But.]
So this? It's something else. And if you can only answer it when you get back, then I guess all I can do is take the edge off. So, we're training. Don't have a blade, so it'll have to be hand-to-hand. Hope you're as rusty as me.