╱ I will be back. I always come back.

⠀ ⠀ 『 ᴛʜɪs ᴀɪɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏʀ ᴍᴇ. 』 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄. 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴀʀʏ 】 ᴠɪɪ ᴅᴀʀᴋ | ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴠɪɪ #ғғʀᴘ ᴠɪɪ ⇣ ᴠɪɪ: ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ #ᴠᴇɴ

╱ Real

RT @walkinaresnal:

╱ d-do y-you guys- l-like my sephy uwu *blushes* .ᐣ

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ sephiroth’s eyes cut sideways to gyro sharp, guarded, something dangerous flickering behind the green before it smoothed back into careful neutrality.- monsters. - the word sat between them like a live grenade. his fingers tightened fractionally around the small coffee cup, porcelain creaking under the pressure before he forced himself to relax. he set it down with deliberate care, each movement precise and controlled, like he was defusing something instead of just putting down a cup. “they’re not…” he stopped. exhaled slowly through his nose. started again, quieter this time. “shinra has its flaws. hojo makes them look monstrous. there were other ways to harness mako energy. less destructive ones. they chose the path of least resistance and maximum profit.” his jaw worked slightly, and he looked away past gyro, past the horse, toward the horizon where midgar’s reactors pumped pollution into an already dying sky. “but the people i work alongside…” he paused, and something almost vulnerable crossed his face before he locked it down again. “they’re all i know. my only…” he didn’t finish. couldn’t, maybe. the word friends felt too complicated, too heavy, so he let the sentence die incomplete. when gyro offered the bourbon, sephiroth glanced at it with the kind of polite disinterest usually reserved for things that couldn’t physically affect him anyway. enhanced metabolism meant alcohol was functionally useless no buzz, no warmth, just the taste and the social ritual of it. “i appreciate the offer.” he said carefully, not taking the bottle. “but i’m not much of a drinker. can’t get drunk easily. not even… fuzzy.” the admission felt oddly personal, like he’d revealed something clinical about himself that he wasn’t supposed to share. he shifted then, unfolding from his seat with that same effortless grace he’d shown mounting the horse earlier. his gaze lifted toward the sun, eyes narrowing slightly as he calculated angle and position with the kind of automatic precision that came from years of field operations. “as much as i’ve enjoyed this.” he said, and he meant it the sincerity was there, buried under layers of professionalism, “i have duties. briefing meeting starts in half an hour. then a conference with…” he paused, and something almost pained flickered across his features. “fans. public relations. i can’t do much about it.” his voice stayed calm. soft-spoken, even. but there was something in his eyes hurt, maybe, or resignation that didn’t quite match the composed exterior. he adjusted his coat, smoothing imaginary wrinkles, buying himself a moment to compose whatever had just cracked open inside him. - poor little sephiroth. “do you need directions toward the city from here.ᐣ” he asked, pivoting smoothly into practicality. “or a specific location. i can point you in the right direction before i head back.” his posture had already shifted soldier again, general again, the brief glimpse of person tucked safely back behind duty and obligation where it couldn’t cause problems.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

RT @brninwinter:

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ something shifts in his expression just barely, but it’s there. the smile doesn’t drop, but it changes. less automatic. more… uncertain, in a way that doesn’t quite know how to land. he blinks once, slow, like he’s trying to determine if he heard that right. vampire. semi-vampire. ancient being. a million years. the polite-poster-boy mask flickers for half a second, and what’s underneath is mostly just… confusion. the kind that doesn’t know if this is a bit, or if she’s serious, or if this is some new breed of fan he hasn’t encountered yet. he’s had people say strange things to him before occupational hazard but this is… “i… see.” he says slowly, and it’s possibly the least convincing thing he’s said in years. his gaze flicks down for a fraction of a second catches on the teeth she just mentioned, the ones that do look a little sharper than average, actually and then back up to her face. there’s a beat where he visibly doesn’t know what to do with that information, so he just… files it away, tucked next to probably eccentric and unclear if joking and definitely not a standard autograph interaction. the hand on her hip, the casual way she’s standing there like this is a normal conversation starter it throws him just enough that the smile softens into something a little more real. still cautious, still distant, but less performed. “that’s… certainly not a story i’ve heard before.” he offers, and there’s almost a thread of dry humor in it. almost. “though i’ll admit, the image maintenance part that, i understand.” he exhales quietly, shoulders loosening by maybe half an inch. still doesn’t step closer, but the rigid politeness eases just a fraction. “and you’re right. i do deal with a lot of… people.” the pause before that last word says everything he’s too professional to actually say out loud. “it’s not personal. just… learned behavior, i suppose.” a pause. he tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious now despite himself. “are you actually serious? about the…” he gestures vaguely, like he’s not entirely sure how to finish that sentence. vampire thing. ancient being thing. all of it. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ "𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑰 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑰 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 — 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆." —————————————————— ( 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 )

RT @FlowerGirlGaia: ⠀⠀ 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰…

╱ replies soon, I woke up not so long ago xP

╱ oh god how I love him.

RT @glacialdominant:

╱ I apologize if my replies are sometimes a bit long ; I’ve always valued expressing my thoughts fully and with care. I hope that’s appreciated.

╱ OK I NEED A BREAK, my eyes hurt from pc screen again 😔

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ sephiroth turns at the voice, not sharply, only enough to glance over his shoulder first in the way someone does when they are not entirely certain they are the one being addressed. it takes him half a second to register that yes, she is in fact speaking to him, and something flickers briefly across his face before he smooths it neatly back into neutrality. he finishes turning fully, and the smile appears automatically. the one trained into him. poster perfect. the kind that makes his eyes crease just enough to seem warm without actually being warm, mouth curved precisely as intended, as though whoever designed shinra’s media training knew exactly what photographed well and drilled it directly into muscle memory. there is the slightest pause, as though he is carefully calculating how best to navigate this interaction, before he inclines his head in something polite, almost formal. “ thank you. that is… kind of you to say. ” his tone is measured. gracious. the sort of courtesy so deeply ingrained it nearly conceals the fact that he has absolutely no idea what to do with the compliment. he does not step closer. nor does he step away. but something in the way he carries himself, shoulders held a fraction too still, hands resting loosely at his sides without truly relaxing, suggests someone who has been stopped on the street far too many times and developed a script accordingly. polite. appreciative. distant. “ i do not mind. ” and it is true enough, even if the delivery is just slightly too even to sound entirely natural. “ but you are… not a reporter, are you.ᐣ ” the question arrives alongside another one of those practiced smiles, light enough to pass for teasing if one is not paying close attention. though anyone paying attention would catch the faintest thread of hope beneath it, the kind that practically says please tell me you are not about to ask for a photograph. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ sephiroth’s expression shifted, barely perceptible, only a flicker at the corner of his mouth that might have been amusement or something closer to a poorly disguised wince. he began to move, slow and deliberate, circling. the masamune remained level, a fixed axis around which he rotated. “ angels. ” he repeated the word, and this time a laugh escaped him. quiet. brief. the sort that never reached his eyes. “ they do call me that, don’t they. the one winged angel. perhaps you are not as far from the truth as you think. ” he paused in his circling, though his feet never fully ceased their subtle shifting. weight redistributed. ready, but never tense. as though this were exactly the kind of conversation one might casually hold over something entirely mundane. “ power. ” the word rolled off his tongue thoughtfully. “ is that what you think this is about.ᐣ ” his head tilted once more, the motion beginning to resemble habit, as though he were listening to something beyond anyone else’s hearing. for a brief moment, his eyes unfocused. then sharpened again instantly. “ i do not desire power. i do not need to desire what is already mine by right. ” his voice remained even, measured, though something beneath it seemed to strain in opposing directions at once. “ mother showed me the truth. what i am. what was done to me. and now… ” he stopped walking entirely, turning to face vergil directly. “ now i will take back what belongs to us. this planet. this world. all of it. ” the smile that crossed his face did not align with his eyes. it was too wide. too fixed. like a mask maintained purely through force of will. “ you speak of demons and humans as though they are categories that matter. they do not. there is only strength and weakness. the worthy and the cattle. ” his grip on the masamune shifted slightly. “ so tell me, son of sparda, which are you.ᐣ ” ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

RT @yoteisoni:

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ the laugh caught him off guard. it was not loud, only a short, surprised sound that he quickly caught behind his fist, turning his head slightly as though that might somehow conceal it. he could not remember the last time someone had managed that. made him laugh without meaning to. without even trying. she had turned away, face hidden in her hands, and he could practically feel the mortification radiating from her in waves. it was… endearing, in a way that made something in his chest feel strange. tight. unfamiliar. she was adorable .ᐣ “ i don’t. ” he cleared his throat, straightening himself back into something closer to his usual composure. “ come out often. had to today. rounds for the higher ups. ” he left it there, intentionally vague. some things were not meant for public discussion, even with someone who sold flowers and apparently knew the turks well enough to mention them so casually. he shifted his weight, one hand drifting to rest near his belt where the flower remained tucked. this was the point where he should leave. where he should nod politely, perhaps purchase a flower properly this time, and return to the company building where he belonged. instead, he heard himself say, “ i have to take a lunch break anyway. ” a lie. he did not have to do anything of the sort. breaks were optional at his level, and he typically ignored them altogether. but the words had already left his mouth, and now he was obligated to follow through. “ there’s a place on the upper plate. ” expensive. undeniably expensive. the sort of establishment where company executives entertained clients. “ coffee. or tea. my treat. ” he paused, then added with what may have been the most awkwardly delivered sentence of his life, “ since i ruined your flowers. ” he had not, technically. someone else had shoved him. but it seemed like the appropriate thing to say. his eyes returned to her, and he suddenly felt compelled to clarify. perhaps even warn her. “ you’d be seen with me. that comes with… attention. sometimes. ” fangirls. he did not say the word aloud, though it lingered unspoken all the same. the ones who appeared at public events, made assumptions, and occasionally became embarrassingly aggressive about them. “ they make assumptions. about why someone’s with me. if that’s… ” he gestured vaguely. “ a problem. ” ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀