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.
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supersoldier) wrote2022-02-11 11:01 am
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?