Deo Vindice
@hiislegacy
Genesis couldn’t tell how much time he had left. Hollander’s lead had resulted in yet another dead end and despite the scientist’s frantic assurances that they were this close to fulfilling their objective, Genesis was neither naive nor dim-witted enough to mistake mortal fear for confidence.
Granted, he would continue to pursue whatever new lead they'd discover pertaining to the final authentic S-cells that remained on the planet – cells Sephiroth had not taken with him at the moment of his untimely death.
However, Genesis could no longer afford to do so without further intensifying his efforts at deciphering the meaning behind the fourth act of Loveless, at discovering the lost conclusion of both Loveless and the arduous path of thorns his life had morphed into.
Legend shall speak Of sacrifice at world's end The wind sails over the water's surface Quietly, but surely
What did the water’s surface represent in his reality, in his present?
What was the sacrifice demanding to be made?
Over the years, Genesis had conceived and examined various theories pertaining to that very act; he had favored some and discarded others, relishing the act of pondering in its own right.
Sacrifice, water – blood. An open wound, the gradual loss of lifeblood.
Whose blood was he required to spill along with his own?
Illuminated by pale moonlight, the stains of crimson marring his handkerchief were black as tar.
Could he still depend on his mental clarity? Had his mind, too, degraded to the point his hypotheses were but reflections of his growing desperation – biased and distorted to the point of inutility.
There was only so much Genesis could hope to achieve with willpower and dogged persistence when his wretched body weighed him down at every given moment, obstructing his every effort at a cellular level.
In those quiet, solitary moments, Genesis was keenly aware that he was dying.
