theplumeriaprincess:

thenewbrutality:

steeldragondown:

HELLO MY BABY, HELLO MY HONEY, HELLO MY RAGTIME GAAAAL~

OH

MY

GOD

“You, too, huh?”  She questioned, the bitter tone in her usually sweet voice easily recognizable.  She was gripping his leather clad hand so tightly in her own it hurt.  Her knuckles were turning white.  But, nothing could compare to this throbbing ache in her chest.  ”I forgave you…and you do this to me?”  She accused brokenly.  Never had she been so angry with the argent-haired general.  Never had she felt such boiling rage toward him. Hatred and fear and confusion…yes.  But anger was an emotion she rarely felt.  As the hot tears slid down her cheeks, she shook her head slowly.  Everything hurt and the pain made her tremble. 

“I forgave you…” She spat.  ”And, in return, you leave.  Why, Sephiroth?”  Her question is but a whisper as she  collapses, forehead connecting with his still torso.  There is nothing left to do or say but weep openly for the fallen hero.

crimsonheartbreaker:

ablackwing:

crimsonheartbreaker:

ablackwing started following you

Looking up from the magazine for a minute, Dante raised an eyebrow. Faded crystal blues gave Sephiroth a once over. “Huh, now that’s an interesting git-up. The name’s Dante Sparda. And I know I haven’t seen you before. You have a name?” He asked, before looking back to the magazine, flipping a few pages.

The half-breed couldn’t talk about how Sephiroth’s attire was fascinating, or so the General thought — considering the crimson-clad man’s own clothing seemed similar to his, the silver-hair allowed a soft snort to answer first before he spoke in reply. “.. Sephiroth.” Dante, was it..? An unusual name, not recognized by the owner of feline pools now focusing upon the ivory-capped hunter.

Another man of few words or so it seemed. Setting his magazine down on the worn mahogany desk, Dante watched the other.  Swinging his legs off the desk and onto the floor, they echoed with a loud thud. Pushing the chair back, Dante extended a hand to him. “Nice to meet you Sephiroth.”

The extended hand was taken into observation by tones of jade discolored by azure starbursts about those vertical pupils before the taller of the two slowly brought his hand forth. Palm met palm, leather sliding on leather, and those long fingers, almost too long and elegant for a man, wrapped about Dante’s hand to shake it once while he spoke in response before releasing the grip as soon as was deemed polite by society’s standards.

“A pleasure.”

He supposed that was the best way to answer such a statement, but then again, it was hard to say if it would be a pleasure or not knowing this man. Mossy tint shifted and sharpened, as if sensing something other about this man — but whatever he was, Sephiroth would have put down a lump sum of gil that this being was not human. At least, not entirely.

reconcillier replied to your post: ooc;

(Aha. I simply see you RPing with others and certainly enjoyed your work. I also see fanning over you with such RPers, so I knew that if they were reacting as such, must be a very nice player. And maybe there is an fanclub, a la Crisis Core. XD)

/ …..

PEOPLE FAN OVER ME? WHAT? WHAT IS THIS. \

badass-barmaid:

ablackwing:

Did the Sephiroth of years past still exist? Or was it just habit that manifested itself then within the chords of the madness that still were strung within his mind and thoughts. Even if Sephiroth finally settled down from this enthralling insanity, he would never truly be whole again. Not since the man knew the truth of himself and how his life had come to be as it was. But the fact remained that when Jenova had set her sights upon the General, there had been no chance for him to escape that thing’s plans. After all, it had been Jenova that had destroyed the most advanced race on the Planet two thousand years ago. What could one man who was suffering emotional turmoil and insomnia have done against her, especially when he’d been infected with her cells since before he was born?

Oh, the things that the madman could speak of, the scalpels taken to his young flesh, the chemical mixtures forced down his throat and injected into his body, the raw Mako that was suffused into every singular part of his body. Indeed, Hojo had once created a mixture of blood and nearly unrefined Mako to fill his body with and Sephiroth had been sick for weeks afterwards, suffering the affects of Mako poisoning. It was torture in the name of science, pain caused by the pursuit of progress in making everything easier and he curled the fingers of his left hand into a fist, lowering it to the cradle of his right hand while staring above her head as he spoke in response.

“What will I do? I will do as I please. I will wander this Planet and watch it and quite possibly await your deaths so I may do as I want when you are all but dead and gone; indeed, only two lives out of your group would remain to challenge me if I decided to wait. What are a few decades, after all, to a man like me whom has stepped outside of the flow of time? And if I remember right.. it took all of you at the Crater to put a halt to those plans and even the aid of the young flowergirl to halt Meteor.”

He smiled then, suddenly, and lifted his right hand above his head. Something flickered into life then, manifesting from the man’s very body into a sphere the size of a child’s fist, a sphere of unlight and darkness that flickered with power. It was a Cetra artifact and one of the few things that kept Jenova from consuming Sephiroth’s mind once more. It was Meteor, there, within his hands again. The dark Materia glowed with a violet-black radiance, the power it exuded palpable. And he was the only creature on the Planet that had any hope of using it for it would take more than one person to use the power contained in the summon Materia.

“If I wanted to, I could call it forth again. But I have no desire to.”

Before she could say anything else in response, the leather-covered hand lifted and then came towards the exposed muscles of his chest. A sharp noise of pain escaped him, but the Materia melded at last with his form in a flurry of dark mist, the flesh of the man’s chest closing over it before his eyes lifted towards her. He carried the greatest weapon of all within his very body and seemed to be acting as, if nothing else, its caretaker. Sephiroth had managed to summon it once after all. Whom better than its caller to keep that thing under control?

Sephiroth was still the ever elusive, charming speaker that she remembered as a teenager. Even when consumed with hate and darkness, he had the ability to draw you in to whatever he spoke about. As she listened, she felt incredibly fearful and a trite nauseous. He would just wait for them to die? How could she even live with that, knowing he would be lurking in the dark somewhere, watching her age? The idea was unsettling at best.

Her lips twitched at the mention of Aerith. 

But what was worse was what he did next. As Tifa watched in complete horror, the materia of Meteor appeared in his hands. That small round magic nearly destroyed the entire planet. It had turned Midgar into rubble. And there it was, sitting in his care like a pet. Like a precious gift given that you held onto until your dying days. Was that what the materia was for him? And why would he dare show that to her?

His chilling words caused her to gasp slightly. For multiple reasons. The threat of summoning it again made her toes curl in her boots. For she—and undoubtedly he—both knew that Aerith wasn’t here to help. The Holy materia had been lost in the city of the Ancients after her murder. And so, there would be nothing, or no one, to stop the fiend from killing all life. But there was a striking other reason for her reaction—Sephiroth said he didn’t want to summon it again.

As she watched him reabsorb the small orb, her shoulders slumped downwards and she felt the urge to cry. It was growing more and more difficult to stay calm, while her greatest enemy stood before her. How much longer would she last before her mind and body could no longer take it?

“……why come here, then? If you’re so keen on watching us die to do what you will…why come here and see me? Why tell me all of this?”

There were ways to vengeance that were sweeter than any blade piercing flesh; to have vengeance and know it was complete was to find a way to devastate your enemy’s resolve forever, to leave a permanent mark on them. And while this woman carried his mark forever, the tracing sinewy line of scar tissue he could picture with ease in his mind’s eye from left shoulder towards her right side, for such was the path it had taken when he had struck out at her, this was truer, better vengeance. To let his enemies know that his presence had not faded at all. After all, had Rufus not asked Cloud if his mind had dissolved within the Lifestream? Those poor broken copies of himself. How the man had hated them even as their strings had been pulled.

Every action and reaction by the barmaid whom had aided in defeating him long ago was studied and devoured by the man’s mind, absorbed inwards without any giving in his own features. Every muscle within Sephiroth’s face was still and hard, the gaze flat as a mirror and reflecting the fear in those garnet pools back at her own features. This was the General that had been seen long ago in Nibelheim, the General that had treated her with that calm distant respect, as if he’d been cut off from the majority of humanity long ago. Sephiroth had not been rude to her, indeed had never been rude to any of them; if anything, the man was chillingly polite. But the fact remained that this was an echo of better days now while the fingers of his right hand massaged the still exposed skin on the left, tracing over and over across the scar and ink there upon the back of his palm. It was an almost nervous tic and Sephiroth did not seem to be aware he was performing the gesture.

To be aware, however, that his life was going to stretch beyond the finite limitations of a human’s, though.. What would that do for his mind? Would it splinter further over time? Or would it repair itself, provided he was left alone? It was impossible to know and at last, his eyes turned away as he pulled the glove that normally concealed his hand from view back on, adjusting the dark leather almost obsessively until it was perfectly sealed with the arm of his jacket, leaving no bit of skin but what was shown upon his chest, neck and face exposed. From head to toe, the man remained hidden in plain sight. This nightmare of a man had learned to remain isolated even in the midst of humanity, forever noticed by the world and yet.. so very alone that it could break one’s heart if they but knew of his losses. But no one would care. Sephiroth had lost everything and in losing everything, the madman had gained his freedom.

“Why am I telling you this? Because I know as soon as I leave, you will go to the phone. You will call Cloud. You will tell him of what has happened. And I suspect that in doing so, you and your little band of companions will attempt to play the heroes and come after me. To kill me again.”

The look that the woman received then was something best described as venomous in potency as the glare sharpened itself, pinning Tifa in place. It threatened to steal the very air from her lungs, to freeze her heart in her chest, the blood in her veins. It was the glare of a man whom would not hesitate to kill what was seen only as a threat to his own existence. And then he continued to speak, maintaining that glare.

“I assure you that this time, if you and your cohorts come for me, that I will wind up killing you all. I do not know mercy towards my enemies and I am giving you this warning out of a sense of leniency. Leave. Me. Alone. If you can tell Cloud that and he listens, I will leave the Planet be. I doubt I could go into hiding as I rather stand out, but if it’d make you feel better, select one of your friends to assign as a guard dog. 

After all.. If I wanted the Planet dead, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. And I know that you know that.”

turk-with-sunglasses:

ablackwing:

turk-with-sunglasses:

ablackwing replied to your post: If you weren’t bald, what would be your ideal hair style?

/ … He looks like Renji. I’m sorry. BUT HE LOOKS LIKE RENJI. \

[[ I don’t even know who the fuck that is o3o ]]

/ Then you shall be edumacated. xD

This is Renji. v

See why I said that his hair reminds me of his? At least, that was the first thing that came to mind. \

[[ lolno o3o but okay. ]]

/ Well, it’s who I thought of. D: Ah well. xD .. Rude doesn’t need hair. It’s.. weird thinking of him with hair. \