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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote2022-02-11 11:01 am
no subject
Which is, apparently, not the case.
Alarms sound. From where he stands, fortunately only on the other side of the floor his visitor’s stepped off of, already intending to meet him halfway, he can hear the telltale shrieking of motors coming to life — security systems reacting to unauthorized access to his own domain.
This may be something he should consider getting rid of, since apparently other Summoned have a penchant for wandering in here. This… very tall individual is yet another example, the second as of late.
Sephiroth steps into the vicinity of the room the stranger has loitered towards, unaffected by the screaming alarm systems. These are familiar to him; what is not familiar to him stands at a short distance, his green gaze affixed to the man.]
Stand down.
[An off-handed remark to the machines eager to punch bullet holes into the other. In reality, it would take more than just a simple voice command to deactivate its systems, but this is Sephiroth’s Horizon domain, where everything has a tendency to bend to his will, whether or not its an accurate approximation to the real thing.
The machine halts, whirring. It does not shut down, but it does not fire its weapon, either.]
Who are you?
[This, obviously, is a question for the newcomer.]
no subject
a̸̩̝̼̋̈́̈ ̶̱̩͕̰͇͖̟̘̅̎͐͐̽͘f̸̛̣̺̫̳̯̻̩̫̺̑̈́̈̓̂̓r̷̬̄̀̓͐̕i̶̺̙̮̘͂̑̋̂̀ę̴̗͎̫͎̠̩̲͉͐͋̑̏̈̋̒̕͝ṋ̴̢̝̤̹̰̅ͅd̴̰͓͋̽̄̾̂͝.̸͉̞̼̲̫̽͐̈́̿̓ͅ ̴͕͔̱͌́̊́̅̆̈͜Ĩ̵̬̮̭̖̖̬̻̌̍ ̵̛̘̻͍̈̅́͂͗̌ẉ̸̮͘ớ̷̖͚͛̈́̄̈͘̕̚u̸̡̨̱͖̼͔͗̏͋̾̕l̷̨̨̨̖͖̞̹̮̠̽̀̓͆͊͝d̴̤͎̖͗̊̂͘ ̷̝̞̩͍̯̜͚̣̦͊͒̇͗̂h̵̢̛͚̞̭̭̹̜̄̒̒͗̑͛͝ͅǫ̴̢̻͔̘̰̼̅̀̃͌̚͝ͅp̴͙̙̟͕̝̥̥͇̙̎̾ͅę̶̧̼̀̓̈́̀̅̄͒̍͗̐.̵̡͕̣͕̪́̈͆̽.̶̢͎̹͈͖̯̮͎̊̋.̸̰̮̹̻̂͂͗̍̽́̚
[No doubt, Sephiroth is not fluent in Amaurotine. Therefore, he would hear something alike moaning, yet something more. There's a distinct structure to it, most certainly, but it would be undecipherable.
However. This is his horizon, and he is the master of the laws that govern it. So should be focus- really focus- perhaps some words would become clear.]
t̴͉̟̮̤̤̜͕̬͔̯̿̾͂̽̂́͊̽̆͝h̸̪̪̟̳͑̔̅̈͆̀̐̑͆̀e̴̯̳̓̏͂̍̂̄̑̈́̕ř̴̡̢̧̜̀͜͝ę̸̼̊̓͂̐̎͐ ̷͈̟̻͎̠̣̀ͅî̷̻̺͈̝̦̑̀͆̋͆̄̿s̶͙̳͂̀̾̂̊̓̍̍͊͛ ̶̏̕͜n̵̢͍͔̭͓̘̤̣͎͍̈́͂͆̚̕͝ò̸̗͔̳̥̏̍̀ need f̷̩̜̩̈́õ̵͔͔̥͚̤̣͔̪͂̽̑̚͜ṛ̵̢̡͍͚̞͔͐́̄̆̎̔̍̒͠ ̶̖̳̲̿̄̐̃͜a̷̢͂̈l̶̝̘͙̘̓̀̓̆͋́ͅa̶̞̺͕̅̏̆̒͗ͅr̷̬̾̅̋͆͛̎͗͝͝͝m̸̠̹̜̌̿͋̽͊͘͘͜.̷̢̤͉̥̼̮̟̺̜́ͅ ̷̘̝͎̖͙̙͈̩͙̋̾͜I̶̞̘̼̟̘̻̟̖͊͆͜ ̷̱̪̏ȯ̸͍̼̹̥̲̜̌̈́̎̐̀̅ͅn̸̳̮̣̹̳̯͆̆͐̉̅͝l̸̛͕̐̌̿̀y̸͕̭̩͐̎̔ perceived s̵̭̻̟̯̼͕̓͗́̒̔̚o̵͍͍̤͚̠͒̐͝m̶͔̦͈͈̂͒̚e̴̮̳͖̟̎̉̓t̸̲͓͔̪͔̹̤̞̆̈́̌̑͐̈́̾͑͘͝h̸̳̬̲̘̥̩̙͋͂̍̈́́̔͒͝ḯ̸̟̻̖͔̱̠͖̱̺͉̔̎̇͌͝͠n̸͍̯̖͇̪̦̗̬̒̃̋ǵ̷̮̔ ̸̱̼͂̈́̽́͂͘͝ş̴͖͕̯̊͊̾ͅp̸̧̡̖̈́̈́̑̉̕ę̷̛́͒͘c̴̢̼̀̈́i̵̧̢̪͉̫̗̼̹̰̞̍̽͗̑͗͐à̵̻̎͑͂̂̊̉̔̅͠l̶̜͔̫̅̍̈͆͋̓͠ ̵̯͗̃ ̸͍̙͋͌̒͑̌ā̷̧̠̞̝͍͚̗̼̭̿̈́n̵͈̝̔̋̋̉̒̕͠͠ḑ̴̩̮̜̞̻̈̀͘ intended to i̴̼͊n̵͔̞̰̖̗̎̈̐̑̏̎̚̕͜v̷̡̗̫͔̝͈͗͗̐̓̈̾̑͝ę̸̧̦̺̤̱̲̌͆̅̽͋̆̏͆̒͘s̴̢̬̟̳̟̭̯̝̣̋̂̄̔̌̿̊̂̇͊t̸͎͇͝i̴̟̪̠̤̼̻͉̞̓̇̿̄͒̃͐͝g̷̖̙̜̫͒̉̚ä̴̺̩̀̈́̂͘t̴̡̨̫̭͘͝ě̴̡̻̦̩͇̟̎̔̐̍͋̚.̴̖̮͇͍͙̩͆̾̈́̂̀͜ ̵̮̬̭̹̞͕͒͒͋Á̴̪͗̉̉̽̍̂͝ǹ̸̼̦́́̈́͆̇̔̃̃d̷̗̯̟͉̮̥̯̺̉͋ ̷̭̪̙̎́o̵̜͉̰̭̯̔͗̈́̃͊́͛̀̑͝ḧ̸̡͎̠͔̰͉́̎̄͝-̸̢̡͇͉͉͖͎̟̜̇̆̽̅͛̈́̍̉͌but you are s̶͎͉̍̓͊̀̾̋̍͠ͅp̵̪͔̣͉̪͎̞̗̲̼͐́̾̑̇͊͝ḛ̴̦̑͗͌͠ͅc̵̭̳̩͚̹̺͎̉͛ì̶̘̖̙͍̟͈̫͔͍͑̈́͜a̸͎͎̳̒l̸̢̥͓̙̤͉͈̹̲͆̑͗̽͗̆ ̸͇͍͕͉͎̩̫̙̭̺̍̂̈͂̋̕ỉ̶̛͎̱̰̬̝̼͓͚͖̇̈́̈́ṇ̵̡̬̻̍͆̐͒̏ͅd̴̡̨̖̫̪͈̰̟̺̒͂̈̈́̂̾́͂̕͘e̸̛͇͔̺̳̝͉̥͓͎͛̀̿̿̒͜e̸̡͈͍̳̦̫̬̽͆̃̋̏͊̈̾̚͝ḓ̵̢̼̦̮̑.̵̜͑̾̉́ your hair, in fact, is q̵̨̺̇͆͂̎u̸͐̏͜ǐ̷̡̡͓͚̦̹͕̞̆t̷̨̟̘̜̭͒̉̋̓̉̆̾͑̿͝è̸̡̺͗͐̑̒͐͋̒͂͠ ̴͔͒̈́̑́͗w̵̜̰͙̝̉̍̽́͠͠ͅo̸̹̟̯̺͙͌̄̉̚͜ǹ̵̹̠̜̦̅̒͝͠͠d̴̬͚̘̬̗̻͒̒͑̀̔͘͜͝ȩ̶̢̘͔̯͓̥̖͈̎r̶̖͓̔̀̆̉f̸̧̭̱̺̰̹̊̔͆́͊͌͜ų̶͉̙̀̎̆̒ĺ̸̢̛̳̹̖̲̈́̑̍͆̒!̵̧̼̩̙̺̮̩̼̮̊̎ Y̴̞̩̟̣̐̆̑͑̕e̸̯̖̦̰͉̒̅͊̇̽͝t̴̢̝̺̘̓̽̈́ͅ ̶̤̻̱͙͉̤͈͈͚̈̾͊͛͆͋̄͠Į̷̘͋͐̐͂̀́̒͜ ̷̳̞͖͑͋̒̎͊̆̏̀̚͠ͅͅd̸̳͈̑̂̿̈́͑̉̈́o̴͕̻̘͓̮͎͗̃͋̚ͅ ̸̠͑͌̾̈́̊ņ̴̩̠̟̙̯̐̍͌͂̚͘͠͝ͅo̵̧̫̤̦̭̹̮̟͌̐̊͌̔͛̀̔̍̚t̴̛̛͉̠̤͔͗͆̔͑̍̓̏ ̴͚̜̼͗̒̓̆͊̄t̶͖̄̃ḫ̵̥̀͛̒̒ḯ̶̧̢̡̤̓̏̐̐͆̾̉̋͠ň̷̩͔͇̞͔̘̮̮̠̠̄̀̀k̶̡̧̟̣̪̰̀́͗̈̉̓͘͜ͅ ̸̡͉̟̩̦͊̀̊̄͆̓̏̃͐̚͜t̸̬̮͝h̴͙̙̹̄͋̽̌̅̈́̆̃̽a̷͍̙̠̙̯̅̔͐͂̃̏̓̊t̶̛͛̾̉̓͜ ̴̻̹͇̬͉̦͚̪͋̓͗͑̇̏̉̌̈͝t̸̯̺͙̐͐͑̂͑̇̄̃̚h̸̪̞͍̣̲̙̎̓̚͝e̷̢̡͉̪̗͋̍͋̅̀̐́̄̚͜͠ͅ ̶͕̫̺͔̜̺̙͉̂̈́̽̑̆̋̕̕͜͝ŕ̴̝͚̖͓̱̳̞͔͛̍ë̴̮́̓â̸̧̭̭͍̲̱͍̖͖̭̄̆̑͆̌͘s̴̨̬̉̑̿̆̍̅ơ̴͈̾̈́̈̈́n̵͉̖̠̎̈́͂͠.̵͙̘̫̗̭͙̀̅̌̌͘
[His hand then rises, just to his mouth, should he have one (does he? No. He does not.) would be. And...]
O̴̩͖̺͉̝̦̔̀̽͜h̷̥̞͔̯̽̇̎̀̅̀̉̋̚̚, you seem confused.
no subject
Which is not inherently true, he realizes, his own stubbornness taking the wheel and sharpening his focus though sheer willpower alone. Slowly, meaning is wrenched free from the sounds — eventually, he understands them as though this were just another person from Midgar.
An impossibly tall person. He steps forward, craning his neck up. The machine behind him finally quiets, though it also remains stationed in place.]
I could barely understand you. [Though the clear implication is that he can, now.] You’re going to get hurt, wandering into someone else’s domain without even an introduction.
no subject
[His head inclines just a little more, and the fingers of his hand then uncurl.
He's laughing? He must be. However- it's momentary. His fingers curl back, his hand reaches his side again, and he straightens.
...As well as he can, anyway. Since he is far bigger than this room, and slouched accordingly.
But ah- his gaze then turns to the mechanical contraption, its fans, and means to propel itself from the ground, utterly still, yet it remains within the air. That's some control. Even for this moment's architect.]
More than likely, yes. But I thought it worth the risk. Now I have met you, I know it to be so.
[A pause, and...]
My name is Hythlodaeus. May I ask yours?
no subject
He looks uncomfortable, slouched forward to avoid knocking his head against the ceiling. Sephiroth raises a hand, and wills him smaller, shorter in stature to fit in the room. The machine floating behind him vanishes in the same motion, leaving only empty space where a threat once stood.]
Sephiroth.
[Hythlodaeus is an unusual name, but perhaps no more than his own. Especially in a new world, filled with people from all edges of the universe.]
Are you one of the Summoned, too?
no subject
Really, he has to stop himself from laughing again, for the act of being made smaller- it really does. Some stifling later and he stands at around Sephiroth's height, looking around the room, even striding toward some desks, examining what appears to be screensavers indicating the Shinra logo on varying machines, and even bringing his hand to his chin at what appears to be a printer.
Ah- now the proportions of this specific cubical hell make sense. And even better- the machine behind him seems to have vanished entirely.]
And now we are introduced. It's very nice to meet you, Sephiroth.
[Effectiveness is quite subjective, but his words do seem to project warmth. The same sort of affection most would reserve for someone dear seems to flow from him, but his tone does not seem disingenuous. And even stranger, though he lacks a mouth- could possibly even lack a face underneath his mask- Hythlodaeus seems to be smiling.
How could he not be warm or affectionate when such a soul stands before him, really?]
To answer your question, I am recently summoned, yes. And enjoying a spot of wanderlust. I was not able to roam that much during my lifetime, you see. All of these moments are quite exciting...
[And.]
Yet I would offer my apologies for disturbing you. In my excitement, I've been quite rude.
no subject
Sephiroth closes his eyes briefly, considering a reply.]
You’re here and unharmed. In the end, it’s fine.
[He wonders just how badly injuries stick in a place like this; a plane that warps with the whims of a mind’s imagination. Thankfully, they needn’t find that out today.]
Are you— [A pause. There’s truly no other way to ask this.] —human?
no subject
[There's a vaguely musical quality to his assent, and he had wondered the same thing. These places seemed to capture their bodies, most absolutely. The first time... no. As someone used to traversal as aether within Eithery's lifestream, he had known that the first time he had visited the Singularity, his body must have stayed behind.
But not now.
This is his body, he's most certain. And he's certain that if harm were to come to it here, it would be troublesome. But.]
Yes, I am. Though I suspect the term relative. For after all, what is human in one universe would be inhuman in another, would it not? Linked only by loose traits. Two arms, two legs. One head, or perhaps there are stars where two of each is the norm? Evolutionary factors certainly change what would be normal.
[He then leans, elegantly, over a desk to concentrate on a little to-do board. He seems to be examining a series of post-it notes. Details, mostly. Hurried scribbles of meetings to come on dates that would never arrive in this moment- overdue proposals, conference calls. A picture of a child. Another memo, aggressively written on the desk, stated bluntly that personal effects such as said photo were prohibited.]
Instead, I would posit that what it means to be human is an impulse to make one's surroundings better for those to come. That is... what I believe, anyway. I may very well be hopelessly wrong!
[He then straightens himself, his head tilting somewhat- a single arm raising to gesture to... everything around them. The desks. The cubicles. The memos, the notes, the workstations, the overwhelming, stifling grey of the areas not intended for public viewing. ]
The level of detail applied to this phantom moment is quite remarkable. You knew it well, I think. And those here, in this time, certainly worked hard to create change. I wonder...
Did they believe it was for the better?
no subject
This is the Shinra building. The headquarters for the company I work for.
[Describing this tower of offices, steel, laboratories, training facilities, storage, public propaganda, and more as a "company" is both precisely omitting and generally correct. He does not care to go into the details regarding how closely he remains tied to it.
That question, though. It has a less simple way to answer it.]
There were many in this building. All with different motivations that kept them working here. I'm sure some believed that Shinra provided a valuable resource to the people of the Planet, and kept them safe within the walls of Midgar. And nothing more.
[But not all.]
no subject
A man of science? How wonderful. I would like to hear your theory, when you are so inclined to share it!
[Sephiroth, of course- is welcome to take whatever he wants from that. But Hythlodaeus would hope that it would sound genuine, for it was. Very much so.
And. He listens to Sephiroth's answer, his head tilting ever so slightly.]
Different motivations... how interesting.
[And so foreign! His office was staffed by so many. Yet they were united with the same motivation, the same goal. Truly and utterly. ...His city was so united. As were his people, all of the same mind, united.]
That such an organized effort could exist with different opinions, different viewpoints...
no subject
[Do not associate him with the workings of the science department, when he has made an effort to detach himself from it — both in the real world and here, evident by a lack of its creation.]
In the end, the only viewpoint that matters here is executives’. The President has the final say.
[That tramples the novelty of differing opinions existing in a single room. None of them matter, in the face of Shinra’s bottom line. He cannot know if they ever did.]
Have you never seen a company before?
no subject
[He can't help it. He really can't- but he's laughing(?) once again into his hand. Really though, it's one thing to ask him about a company. Yes, he would like to know what one of those is, but ...he has very little idea what an army even is.]
Executives? I imagine they are similar to overseers?
[To say Amaurot's chief overseers were anything alike Shinra executives would be disingenuous. And no doubt, doing the overseers (himself included!) a grave disservice. For they were men and women with specialties- utter masters of their field- with thousands of years worth of study and with innate talents that made them perfect candidates to oversee their offices' designations. ...Decidedly not a trait shown by Shinra's boardroom.
But on a surface level, the assumption is correct. As for the president...]
How strange to have a single person tasked with everything. We, personally, held the final decision on most matters of import to an elected council. Each moment of each member's life belongs to the duties associated with their seat. All that they were before is forgotten. Even their names. And their say is final... as is their knowledge. And their love for our star.
[But the company question! He looks around them, spinning, slowly, in a complete circle. And somewhat impishly (for Sephiroth should be getting a feel for tone and the intricates of Amaurotine by now) ]
...This is a company, is it not? Yes, I think I have seen one. ...Or the back offices of one.
[And then:]
Would you show me more?
no subject
Overseer would work as a term.
[Though how much did the President actually oversee? His word was final, but management existed for a reason; there were rungs to the corporate ladder, and many remained stuck at the bottom. Some were not connected at all. Sephiroth's own station is both special and very much defined.]
...I can show you as long as you don't wander off.
[And get himself ridden with bullet holes from another security system in some unmonitored corner.]
no subject
I have no reason to wander anywhere unaccompanied. You're the reason I came.
[He moves then- the bottom of his robe moving, as if the wind is blowing it. Yet he does not appear to have feet. Curious, most certainly. And as they reach the door, move down a hallway, up some stairs, and reach the floor where the corridor opens out into a large canteen, he stops.
...And he views the chairs. The tree within the center of the room. The boxed off foliage. His hand moves to his chin.]
What is this room for?
no subject
He answers, plainly:]
A cafeteria. A place for employees to eat.
[With little further explanation than that. If Hythlodaeus was hoping for a more informative, talkative guide, he will be sorely disappointed.]
What did you mean before? That you came here because of me?
no subject
[No, it had not occurred to him that eating, in general, was not an act indulged in for the simple fun of it, and more one undertook according to need with Sephiroth's version of humanity. Nor does it strike him that this place is so pleasantly designed because work at the Shinra building tended to involve practically living at the building.
So to him, this president appears to be a kind man indeed.]
Though if I may point something out, that tree. [A hand rises, to curl a spectral finger at the center of the room.] While the light shining upon it is something it can photosynthesise, it would nonetheless benefit from being exposed to the air, and what your people emit by their breathing. In fact, if-
[Oh. He's overstepping. He silences himself, with a small laugh.]
My apologies. I forget my place.
[And. Perhaps eager to change subject from what he views as a faux pas:]
You do not sense it yourself? Curious...
Your soul. It is like mine. There are some characteristics- longevity, for instance- that are very similar indeed. but upon looking at you, you are not even faintly related to us.
[He tilts his head.]
You are different, aren't you? From all you have met. Even if you cannot sense souls, it must still be apparent.
...It must be a burden.
no subject
Instead, he focuses on the explanation, and the subject of differences stills Sephiroth in ways that reveal he had been incrementally more casual before: the slope of his shoulders, the angle in which he holds his chin. All of that tightens as though a string had been pulled, situating himself with a purely military, straight-backed mien, all subtle shades of emotion banished from him.
Steel walls have been flung up. This is not a conversation he has with pure strangers; even those he would once call friends would rarely be allowed to glimpse past the cracking armor.]
It’s what makes me excel. Being different has only been advantageous for myself and the company.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
...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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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?