( horizon )

[supersoldier]

EXTERIOR It’s nighttime, and the building before you is impossibly tall, made of dark steel dotted with exterior lights, illuminating the green glowing haze lingering in the air. Military vehicles pass along the street, unearthing themselves from an underground parking garage nearby, though their drivers appear faceless through the glass. The main entrance does not eschew visitors — the interior lights shine brightest through expansive glass doors, which will open for any who wander in.

LOBBY Corporate clean and modern, the lobby is shining, straight-edged, and ambient lit. It is a space that was clearly designed to comfortably host many people, though it is currently (and always) empty. Even the front desk is bulwarked by shining walls of security lights, with no one seated to greet newcomers. A massive set of stairs, one on each side, will lead a visitor upward. It is the epitome of subliminal space, and obviously meant to be traveled through, not loitered in.

CAFETERIA A half-formed cafe adjoining the lobby. You can sit, if you like, but there’s not much else to do. No food and drink being served, no ambient music to fill the space. Very little effort has been put into the creation of this area beyond functional construction, though the spotlit foliage is a nice addition.

STAIRWELLOne way or another, there’s a stairwell that loops up, and up, and up— for as far as the eye can see. The floors are numbered, and maybe those numbers climb higher; maybe they jump round, maybe they repeat themselves. Footsteps clang on metal, and resonate with each step. Surely, at some point, there’ll be an exit — and sometimes there is, a door appearing on one story or another, providing freedom. Sometimes, you just have to keep climbing.

You could go back down the other way, but even that feels like a feat of its own, depending on how far you’ve already journeyed.

VR TRAINING ROOMA training room with wide flooring and nondescript walls, made for sparring. There isn’t much here until, with a flicker of light, the scene erupts in a distinctly different palette of color. Atop the long length of an impossibly large cannon, or the square of a foreign city in a foreign nation, couched by trees. Sometimes it’s not a scene at all; sometimes, a monster greets you, instead.

PERSONAL QUARTERSLocked to all who find it, for the time being.

CODE BY MARWOOD | personal quarters artwork credit

Comments

[lackingtalent]

[He senses the walls! Or that is, he has eyes and ears. He can see the other man stiffen so, sees the muscles of his jaw move ever so as he sets it square, and hears an intake of breath held far longer than usual as Sephiroth steels himself for... well, something.

Does he expect criticism? Or...?
Oh, though. He's such a funny little one.

He is reminded, immediately and all at once, of someone dear. His hand, again, rises to the lower half of his face- but he does not laugh. Instead, the sound is far more fond.

And that fondness is reflected in his voice.]

Is that so? Then forgive my assumption. I would not know.

[Spoken as he makes his way to the counter, where no-one is positioned, and nothing appears to be served. How curious. ...Was one simply to wait? Regardless, he continues.]

For after all, I am not someone that tends to excel. I daresay I'm remarkably average in all respects.

[Worse than average in a lot. But that barely needs mentioning. So! He turns, finally- his head tilting.]

But I do have a wealth of experience with being around people which are different. And being different is also to be quite special.

[carmesi]

[it would certainly be surprising, if someone of sephiroth's build (his height—and assumed clumsiness that comes with it) would show just how fast he really is. she needs not clarify to know that he is not beyond considering this to be a race.

wanda floats away from the path of the stairs, floating instead on the side, where there are less obstacles and a more direct, straight path.]

I'll see you at the top.

[thankfully, she's not competitive enough to have her ego bruised regardless of whether she wins or loses, but off she goes, amping the speed with her magic.]

[supersoldier]

[He doesn’t reply. Her words are something of a challenge, and her actions make it clear, as well — flying directly upwards, bolstered by her magic, a straight line rather than making any attempt at following his upwards-winding path.

Sephiroth, who finds the core of his entertainment from long sparring sessions among SOLDIERs, or challenges thrown his way to test his skills, needs very little more motivation. It is rare for a stranger to see this side of him, but Wanda has not been overbearing, or sending wheedling expectations his way. He can humor her by expediting their trip to the roof.

That, and grasping at conversation for dozens of floors sounds like its own kind of tiresome.

And so he runs. His long limbs only lend to his speed, able to take several stairs in a single gait with increasing momentum. He knows these stairs well, knows how many exist on each flight, when to take a turn and at what angle. His hair whips behind him; occasionally, he leaps a whole stretch of stairs at a time.

How does he compare to someone who only needs to fly, unobstructed? They’ll find out as they near the top.]

[carmesi]

[wanda doesn't see him, but she does hear him, rushing past the different floors somewhere below her with surprising speed. it probably does help that he's familiarized with them—as he's stated. soldier that he is, this probably is another standard measure of his strengths.

(she also has a horrifying thought dredging up past memories of an unseen enemy, ready to strike at any moment, a force of nature that she and pietro could do nothing against.)

truth be told, wanda has it easier on this straightforward flight up, but she still accelerates with her magic and is caught off-guard by how quick the ceiling arrives.

there's a loud THUMP from somewhere above, cursing in a likely-unfamiliar language. should sephiroth arrive, he'll find wanda just about landing on her feet, hands covering the top of her head.]

[supersoldier]

[She’s at the top before him, and his perfectionist nature would label that a failure on his part, were it not for her clear use of unconventional magic and—

Well. The comedically-timed (sorry, Wanda) thump on the skull. Sephiroth arrives on the same landing just as she’s clutching the top of her head. The echoing noise still resonates throughout the stairwell, and though he looks immaculately unruffled for running up several flights of stairs in a short amount of time, there is a switch to his brow. The way his eyes try to hold back amusement at the absurdity of it.

(It reminds him of what a SOLDIER would do during downtime. Feats of strength, dexterity, or speed to fight back waves of boredom and idleness, sometimes manifesting—and ending—in unexpected ways.)]

Your magic doesn’t have brakes?

[carmesi]

Your ceiling has no lights?

[an answer with a question, grumbling, audibly annoyed at what his question implies. it is relatively dark for a ceiling, the lights mostly on the walls and per floor on the stairs. she can see the creases of his eyes showing relative amusement, so different from his quiet and stoic standing.

with a light comb of her hands through her hair, she placates the pain for a bit and tries bearing through it, that ringing in her ears and the throbbing ache that will inevitably come.

she points to the side.]

This door?

[supersoldier]

[Sephiroth's rigidity remains, as it always does once it's been put into place, not something so easily banished just because the conversation's taken a slightly different turn. Barely so.

He follows a few steps behind. The cafeteria remains empty and untended to, and he doesn't appear inclined to change that just because he has a guest wandering about. Sephiroth's domain might as well be a museum more than a lived-in place; frozen in time at his own liking.]

Average in what? What is it that you do? [No continuation of differences, or being special. He turns the subject on Hythlodaeus instead.]

[lackingtalent]

[A phantom moment indeed. Telling of both mastery of it, and the aforementioned preferences by the lack of anyone around.

...Interesting.

He slows to walk in step with Sephiroth, lingering by... a vaguely metallic orb on the upper floor. The combat simulator.]

Absolutely nothing. For I am long dead. I should hope this does not disconcert you?

[He does not seem fazed by it. Not regretful, and certainly not sad. Yet not pleased, either. Nor whimsical.]

When I was alive, I had a position within an office alike... yet very unlike this one. My people were caretakers, of a sort. And our collective purpose was the improvement of our star.

My office, at the time, was a single means to facilitate that aim.

[His purpose, though. His reason for being, was something different. He looks toward the sim.]

What is this?

[supersoldier]

[He ignores the question, but the sliver of a smile, ever faint, remains. Sephiroth’s steps are steady as he walks to the door, pushing it open with a flat palm.]

This way.

[He passes over the threshold, expecting her to follow. So, yes, this door.

His domain circumvents passing through any offices he cares little for; this high up is technically the President’s realm, or the VP if he were not on an extended “business trip” in Junon. But the door merely opens up to the rooftop proper, a flat clearance with room for a helipad. Crossing further, and the sight of Midgar, lit up at night, greets them.

A cool breeze passes by. This high up, and the ozone scent of mako cannot reach them, no matter how it clouds the sky in a strange green — almost beautiful if seen (and only seen) from a distance.]

[carmesi]

[she is for the most part grateful that he's ignored the question and has not made any further comments. she walks on, then, following after him. it feels like they've skipped a couple of rooms with the way the door opens into the roof. it's eerily quiet, a sense of wind found very subtly, but wanda is not deterred as they move further.

the sight of midgar, a city unknown to her, reminds her so much of the bigger cities she never had a chance of living in and had once imagined, in daydreams, the possibility. there's an odd, but beautiful, green like a haze over the stark blacks and geometric profile of buildings.

so many bright lights.

she pulls the shawl closer to herself as she peers over the ledge.]

It's worth the trip up.

[supersoldier]

[He doesn’t reply immediately to the question about his discomfort, or lack thereof, regarding a dead man walking in his Horizon. His brows pull together, and he considers a few wayward remarks from an angry ex-infantryman concerning his own; but to Sephiroth, this proves that those who have died possess something of an awareness of that fact.]

No. It doesn’t bother me. I would think it’d bother you, knowing that this place can pull people even from death itself.

[But as for the other question.]

That’s a combat simulator. Don’t touch it unless you plan on taking up a sword against a few monsters.

[lackingtalent]

[Perceptive, isn't he.]

There are multiple reasons that it does not. The first, is that to my kind, returning to the star is to embark upon a great journey. I have no issue with diversion, especially when I find myself where I am supposed to be.

[Where, in his case, is more a matter of with who. For Emet-Selch is here. And that is his journey, his destination. His purpose.

And to Sephiroth, that may sound somewhat cryptic. So...]

And were my circumstances different and I would find myself bothered... it would be quite dissimilar to how you perceive unrest.

[A vengeful spirit he is not. And. Regarding the sim:]

Would you show me? I think you may very well be entertaining to watch.

[supersoldier]

[He’s glad for that, at least. The awkwardness ensuing from making such an effort to reach the top, only to be met with disappointment, is not one for which Sephiroth is prepared.

But Midgar’s view at night rarely disappoints, even from those who would deride the city and its corporative heart. He steps closer to the rooftop’s edge, the vista yawning out before him. The breeze plays at the tips of his hair.]

It can be beautiful.

[A sight worthy of reflection. Likely why he’s made it a part of his domain.]

Do your cities look similar?

[supersoldier]

[He still doesn’t understand; or perhaps it’s merely that he cannot relate. Sephiroth has not lived an age, and his own death had been such a far-away concept until brought to the forefront in heated conversation, only as of late. He exhales, thinly, accepting the answer because he has no reason to question it — even if it is an odd one.

His attention pries over to the combat sim, instead.]

I can. But I don’t know how much it would entertain.

[So many have a warped, strange view of battle, of fighting monsters and men alike, even if only in simulation. It is still violent and visceral; only through familiarity and it being the focal point of his very life, has Sephiroth found his own brand of amusement from sessions such as these.]

It isn’t for the faint of heart. [Not the simulations he conjures up for himself.]

[lackingtalent]

Oh- you think me fainthearted?

[A laugh- or the ghost of one- escapes him at that. For he does find the possibility amusing... even if they are strangers with little knowledge of each other and of course, such misconceptions are bound to be par for the course. His own impression of Sephiroth, soul included, gives him such an advantage it could be called cheating, and of course Sephiroth himself doesn't have the same.]

I will confess, violence is hardly my forte. [Honestly, for his kind? He's somewhat dreadful. Yet within Abraxas, or more accurately, compared to the people pulled in, his capacity is anything but.] Yet I find that makes me all the more impressed at impressive things.

[He moves then- or more accurately, drifts to the control panel, his hand hovering above what must be the button to enter.]

I hope you won't hold back?

[carmesi]

[this quiet man, with his few words, says so much with just four: it can be beautiful. it speaks of the understanding that the city has a lot more flaws than what its beauty can hide, but wanda is not here to judge nor condemn, instead narrowing her focus to his question.

no, not quite.

this city is quite unlike her own, in ways that she can't imagine. at least the ones she has seen. but the question also feels like permission to show him, should she ever ask. and so—wanda lifts one of her hands and allows a flurry of red to fall over the image of midgar, over all this unnatural green, to allow for static-like walls to build in scarlet, climbing as high rises: new york city, as she remembers it, with its thousands of lights.]

Many say this one is one of the most exciting. [tall buildings, lights, no sleep.] But they can be different.

[another twist of her hand and the buildings shift, replaced now with quieter glasgow. she pulls her hand down, letting the green glow of mako to overwhelm the red of her magic, sephiroth's domain taking hold again in its original form.]

I am probably the worst person to ask. [with a light shrug she turns to him.] I never got to travel the world much.

[supersoldier]

[These cities she shows him, with such an ease that she changes the vista, are glittering, bright, kaleidoscopic. More than even Midgar, a city whose mako smog obscures much at too far of a distance, even with its surreal green glow.

His eyes linger, tracing over each line of every building as though he could commit it to memory. He had not considered how varied the landscape of other worlds could be. Even in Abraxas, the scope of the universe had expanded to two planets instead of one. Wanda's display reminds him that it's bigger than that; a grounded reminder that he is surprisingly small in the grand scheme of it.]

I only travel where Shinra assigns me. If you've visited two cities, that's one more than me.

[In a way. He is familiar with the heart of Midgar, which he counts. He has visited Junon, which he does not.]

[carmesi]

Sounds pretty limited.

[to be 'assigned', told where to go, disallowed from going anywhere else because of reasons that pervade sephiroth's whole existence—a soldier, a man that looks after the assets of the company he works for. she cannot help but wonder why work for them at all?

but not everything is so black and white; she remains looking at him, a narrowing of her eyes as if she could read his mind.]

I traveled because my country was destroyed, but I was only allowed to go to specific places. [perhaps, she thinks, we are not so dissimilar. she turns her head away when she speaks again.] All I really wanted was a house in a quiet town, but I suppose those of this world have different plans for us.