so haunting for someone so haunted. while shadow-bound activities were largely dissolved into simply being absent from the hub of activity within the main wards of the city, sephiroth still found themselves clinging to the silence and secrecy of the side lines. revisiting this place was nothing short of a bore, truly. having once attempted to conquer it, now it stood as merely a place to shackle him once more. icarus clipped and in mourning.
but as all good ghost stories go, he still yet lingers. a reflection on the window of a shadowy store, a fleeting thought to those already so exhausted by his prowess. a memory, yet he still lived. sworn to never vanish from the world, he was instead cursed to live on. death incarnate tethered to the earth.
first, he thought that flash of crimson to be his own haunting, but he had never been a ghost to genesis. perhaps he was the moon and stars, so out of reach of that gloved hand that genesis had always hoped to clasp within his fist, but the sky was far too large. far too deep. he didn't care for the poetics of it all, but to spy him sitting alone in the twilight, book betwixt his fingers, why it almost felt fiction-esque.
approaching, sephiroth's steps came accompanied with the fall of a few black feathers, though they never hit the ground. he paused before genesis, part of him apathetic, the other... the other... the other... he spoke almost dream-like, as was so often the case when words parted his lips. for that otherworldly intensity washed over his listeners, either raising hairs upon their arms or prompting them to listen close.
" so much for the hero's tale. "
and so, he began haunting once more.
@epicorigin
