My MASTERPOST of canon Final Fantasy 7 roleplayers that I admire and which have influenced my portrayal.
I've written Sephiroth for over ten years now. This is a masterpost of blogs that I love. Each of the writers/artists on this list influenced my portrayal most. I regard these people as THE expert/spokesperson/reincarnation of that muse. When I have trouble with portrayal, I look at these blogs and their headcanons. I consider them the best of the best. This is a list as much for you as it is for me.
Give these fricken legends a follow!
(Sidenote: Some blogs are inactive. Some people haven't logged on in years. There are a few people I'm not in contact with any more for whatever reason, but whom I still think back to with warm memories. I will put a dot in their username so it won't show up in their tags. No OC’s.)
IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
Sephiroth @rp-sephiroth (me!) @specimen-s @jenovaslegacy and to a lesser degree of influence to my Sephiroth, @tragoediambellum
Cloud @brighteyedinfantryman
Genesis @thegenesisrhapsodos
Zack @fair.estzack @fairweatherpuppy + to a lesser degree of influence @fairezt @zackoftrades @adreamofahero
My MASTEPOST of Final Fantasy VII fanfiction writes that I admire and which have influenced my reading of canon material. This mastepost is for me as much as it is for you. These are only the writers that don’t actively roleplay to my knowing. I cannot tag some people. Give them a follow!
@lilly-white
@karanguni !!!
@allsortsoflicorice
@asreoninfusion
@icynovas (vanished)
@up-sideand-down
@boomchickfanfiction and @tomowowowo
@albedosoyna
@lettersofthegreenroom
@fflove190
@rapier what is your username again?
@verdantantlers
and I'm interested in checking out:
@lyrasanzennine
I'm probably forgetting a ton of people. I apologise!
He went to the crowd, which trashed and roared and pushed against the fences like raging monsters. Hands stretched out to touch him, making him want to sign things.
It reminded him of the Ri-Baon mountain prison, with its black walls and damp air, and of how the prisoners would stick hand through the bars to grasp him. Their arms would be thin as sticks and pale as bones.
If you would get too close, they would grab your clothes or hair and pull you to the bars. They would wrap their black-blue fingers around your throat and pinch your air-pipe a little above the Adam's apple. Or press a rusty nail against the soft part of the back of your skull - between the two neck muscles. They would hiss in foreign languages, thick with dialect, that they demanded to be released.
Angeal had blasted a Fire materia at the man's cell. He had set the prisoner alight. Sephiroth had suffered through the heat of flames, scrambled to the middle of the path, and the grabbed Angeal's leg. They had walked on. The burning man's screaming had continued for four minutes until the man's dead. But the other prisoners' hands kept reaching, and they kept moaning.
"Sephiroth, Sephiroth," the crowd called desperately.
They reached out, a sea of hands, and a multitude of pale faces. The look in their eyes was desperate - their only goal in life was grabbing him, holding him.
Sephiroth stepped forward and into their reach. They touched his arms, his clothes, his hair. They roamed over his bare chest and hooked into his suspenders. Many roamed over his tummy and his crotch.
And cameras took photos of his face: many were too close to get a decent shot, but cameras flashed. His chin bumped against a camera and a girl on the right fainted.
The screaming never stopped "Sephiroth, Sephiroth."
Sephiroth reached out himself and pulled a reporter by the arm. He pulled her up, over the fences, and put her down. "Pick up your notebook. Interview the Vice-President."
Many hands held his clothes - but he wore leather, and it didn't rip. He wore tight clothes, so they couldn't get a decent grip. Their fingers tangled in his hair. He had to step back, untangle a few hands, and step back more, while talking softly and calmly asking them to let go.
What if instead of degrading and his cells aging and dying, the Jenova cells became dormant (if that's even possible.) What if instead, his hair began to turn black?
I want to roleplay this!
EDIT: this turned into a drabble.
Have you ever seen a circus/zoo tiger be released in the wild? I’ve been told starves because it doesn’t know how to hunt properly. It has become too dependant on people to function properly on its own.
Depending on the rapidness of the Jenova cells becoming dormant, Sephiroth could either ‘ease’ into becoming more human, or get VERY weak very quickly. After all, it’s the non-dominant human cells in his body which are suddenly supposed to take charge of the functioning of everything.
After a period of (near death) weakness, possible coma, possible hair loss, and mako-energy infusion to keep him alive, Sephiroth will wake up.
He’ll be weaker than ever before,
….and more of an outsider than ever before.
For a while people may remain at his side, but one by one they’ll start to drop him in favour of Genesis or Angeal. Midway the rehabilitation period…he’ll have no friends or colleagues. Even those who might visit will cease to have time, after all, he’s no longer the SOLDIER General.
But rehabilitation takes too long. The prognosis states that if Sephiroth continues to live, he will not be able to regain his powers. He’ll be human - and immune to mako injections.
Sephiroth will be laying in a hospital bed, head on the pillow. He watches the screen of the television at a 90 degrees angle because he’s not strong enough to turn the television on it’s side. He’s not strong enough to get out of bed, or strong enough to grab the remote to switch of the television. The last has to do with with his ego, because he keeps hoping someone in the crowd will shout Sephiroth lives!
But no one speaks up and he tosses over to stare at the ceiling while he listens to the sobs of thousand fans. The light of the television casts colours on the ceiling and when a bone-thin-from-stress Professor Hojo walks in he closes his eyes to pretend he’s asleep .
There will be a memorial statue of him, at which people will place flowers.
Sephiroth’s too old to be shipped off to a foster family in Banora, so instead of a foster family, he gets a house. Head Scientist Professor Hojo’s reputation gained a big dent, because Genesis and Angeal still function. Doctor Hollander becomes director of the Science Department. Sephiroth is shipped off to Banora where the rejects go. Much to his dismay (though he sees the necessity), Professor Hojo joins him.
Rehabilitation at a Banoran farm house. The neighbourhood is kind because the ‘charming poor old man’ with his ‘poor ill boy that never goes outside’ are slightly richer than average and boost the local economy. And yes, they do look familiar, don’t they? Yet I can’t tell where I’ve seen their faces before.
There are two local nurses that help the old Professor move Sephiroth around when the ex-General doesn’t have the strength to go to the bathroom himself.
The Professor helps him sit up, move his knees, learn to walk again. Those are short distances at first, to the table and back to the bed, then to the bench outside and back to the bed.
The lady next door, twenty years younger, finds Hojo absolutely charming, and is glad to help the laundry. When the woman gets too close, Sephiroth glares at her, or starts moaning painfully. It always works.
Things get better. At early walks, Sephiroth finally sees the places Angeal and Genesis talked about. The Banoran trees, the Round Rock, the cliffs, the strange animals that don’t really do harm.
…-until an orange hedgehog shoots his spikes and Sephiroth’s entire arm is covered in needles and he’s painfully reminded to how weak he is.
He can’t wear leather because no one sells leather jackets. He must stay warm at all times -another stupid novelty- and often forgets his shirt, or always-too-short-jacket. The darling neighbour gives him a red scarf (to get on his good side) because “it goes with your eyes.”He smiles at her and requests if she can make it twice as long so he can wrap it around his shoulders too.
At walks, in summer and winter, the long ends of the scarf flutter after him.
The professor injects him with Mako on a regular basis, and they learn Sephiroth has grown immune to it; meaning he cannot become SOLDIER cadet either. He applies to become advisor, his application is denied.
Sephiroth is violent. He has learnt to move around a little, but when rehabilitation takes long, or when he’s suddenly reminded of his humanity, he despairs. At first Hojo manages to keep Sephiroth in check, but that stops when the younger gets stronger. He breaks plates, furniture, and Hojo’s left arm. The last fracture is only an accident, not because Sephiroth intended to. They ‘make up’, the best way either understand that expression. Despite everything, the scientist remains by his side.
When Angeal and Genesis are in town, Sephiroth isn’t told after a day after their arrival. He sits down on a fence and awaits them. The encounter is awkward and uncomfortable for all of them. The three of them pluck apples. Angeal and Genesis race to fill their cards, becoming blurs, and Sephiroth has trouble filling his basket to save his pride. Angeal stiffens every time their eyes eyes meet, but Genesis is welcoming and kind - if not slightly self-satisfied. When Sephiroth calls him out on it, Angeal puts a hand on Genesis’ arm and asks kindly if Sephiroth is perhaps a little tired.
Apparently the Great Red General doesn’t hug, which is fine, because Sephiroth’s not fond of hugging anyway. Too much physical contact.
When Sephiroth learns to go to stores on his own, he sees they no longer sell silver shampoo he’d been begging Hojo for when they first moved to Banora. He picks the Puppy Power Ultra Black instead. They got rid of the fragrances, they have a new scent, Professor Hojo said a long time ago. The Puppy Power smells oddly like the ‘new formula Sephiroth-shampoo’ and at the checkout he wonders for how long the Professor has been re-filling the same silver bottle.
That was a small break of trust, but enough to make him realize he doesn’t want to live together with him any longer. He becomes less dependant. He moves to Junon, the Professor moves next door - again, much to his dismay.
His diplomas in biochemistry, physics, and history (among others) allow him to get a part-time job as a scientist at the various hazardous mako reactors: he’s immune anyway.
When facing AVALANCHE, he learns he’s quite good with a gun. A day later he sends an application to the Turks, but they deny him, possibly due the fresh wound in his tummy. His inability to cope with his own bodily slowness, and his skills of human interaction didn’t help him quality either.
But Professor Hojo will cook noodles tonight so not everything’s bad.
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Sephiroth, Gast
Written by: goddamnitaisha
Summary: Professor Gast visits Sephiroth in his room to say farewell before the scientists elopes with Ifalna.
Notes: ...I have to start off with confessing I don't think I have ever read a canon line from Professor Gast, ever. The fic/the character portrayal are based on imagination and second-hand knowledge. Sorry! Anyway, an image and talking with @zoegears appearance inspired me.)
"Sephiroth, I won't be back for a long time." Gast was kneeling in front of him. He put his hands on the child's shoulders. The plastic specimen gown rustled under his fingertips.
It was almost five o'clock in the labs, office hours were ending, the adventure was about to start.
- "What is a long time?" the boy asked.
- "A very long time."
- "More than a week?"
- "Yes."
- "More than two weeks?"
- "Yes. I hope so."
Sephiroth folded his arms and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The scientist almost laughed, because that was the exact same gesture he did when he was thinking hard. Gast would never have become concious of the habit if his young doctor-assistant Hojo hadn't picked it up too, when he was thinking hard.
But the mimicking revealed how much influence he had had over the child, and how much he'd be missed. With the heavy feeling of his departure in the back of his mind, the scientist couldn't manage much more than a grim half-smile.
- "We are you going?"
"We're going to go far away. We're going to have a baby," he said. "It's another project, but of a different kind."
Sephiroth's eyes grew wide and for a moment the Professor thought he'd panic, throw a fit. If he'd have to stun Sephiroth, the farewell would be spoiled.
But the child raised his hands and slapped then against his own cheeks. His mouth opened in a silent "oh!" and he said: "But it takes years to make a baby!"
- "Who told you that?"
- "Doctor Hojo did. He said I was a project of years."
"Ah," Gast smiled. He tapped his fingertip on Sephiroth nose. "Yes, but you are special."
Sephiroth looked at his nose, cross-eyed.
The professor lopsided smile appeared again. "Hands down."
Sephiroth put his hands down. His tummy stuck forward more than the rest of his body, and he stood constantly in a curve, like children do.
- "The child we will be making will take a little less time: just three-quarters of a year."
"39 weeks," Sephiroth calculated quickly, because he didn't work with seasons, because he had hardly been outside.
The cleverness of the boy's mind had long ceased to surprise the Professor. "That's right."
- "And then you will come back?"
"After a little longer," he said. A deep sigh followed. "I don't know. The baby has to grow up until it's as tall and strong as you are. I might never come back but-"
- "Never?"
"-but you can come visit me when you are taller than Doctor Hojo."
Sephiroth's mouth tightened.
- "Boy, will you give me one last hug?"
Sephiroth reluctantly fell into his arms. He had no weight. He was small and breakable and warm. He was a creature that defied the laws of nature. A young, real, living creature made of Jenova and science. He loved Sephiroth -loved him so so much- that he wanted a child for his own that he could call his own: because in Specimen S003 he saw traces of doctor Lucrecia, and he wanted to see his Ifalna back in their own child. Seven weeks pregnant, and it already made them giggly.
He hugged the boy again. He could tell he didn't like it very much, but the prospect of not being able to see the professor again made Sephiroth grab his coat tighter.
Interesting. The subject -... his mind started, ready to scribble down notes of Sephiroth's progress, but then there were tears in his eyes and he couldn't think at all. "Study hard,"
Sephiroth nodded, tried to free himself.
"Listen to Doctor Hojo. Be gentle with the earth. Try to discover your power as Ancient, will you, son?"
"Son?" Sephiroth repeated. He cut himself loose and stared up at Gast - who realized his mistake.
"An expression of endearment," he said. "I am not your father." He stood up.
"Who is my father?" Sephiroth grabbed his sleeve. The child looked up to him.
- "That is.... not for me to tell you."
- "Please?"
Gast felt his throat constrict more.
- "Who is my mother?"
The scientist said nothing.
"Professor, please? I'll name all the great Streams of the six continents if you tell me!"
"I'm sure you can name them by now. Hey-" Gast ran a hand through his hair, and the bangs flopped back. "If you continue to grow your hair out like this... then maybe one day it will be as long as your mother's was... That is all I can tell you."
Sephiroth's eyes grew possibly bigger than they already were. His bottom lip grew broad and curled into a pout. His tiny chin gained dents. He looked the personification of sadness. The boy never cried, which was a distinct advantage or Gast would have swept him off his feet and taken him along. He couldn't, of course. He couldn't.
But as the child tugged his sleeve, oh, he wanted to.
"I'm going now."
"No..."
"Sephiroth, let go of my sleeve. I have to go now."
"No."
This time the voice had sounded more insistent. Sephiroth's tears were gone, his face had smoothed out. There were no lights in his green eyes, and this didn't sound like an outbreak, or tantrum, but like the start of an assault. He now became a manipulator, testing the boundaries of what he was capable of doing.
Gast got scared.
"Sep-" his throat constricted. The words stopped. He couldn't talk.
Doctor Hojo wasn't ready for this. He was too young. He would need a whole team of people to specialize in Sephiroth, and anyone who would get too close ought to be assigned a different position.
He could take Seph- No.
But...
No, he couldn't.
He touched the small hand and rubbed his thumb over Sephiroth's fist. If he pulled now, the specimen would pull back. Who knew what fight they'd have. Without backup, who knew who'd win?
He needed to leave instructions for Simon. Or Hojo would be all alone versus... Sephiroth.
He swallowed. He tried a smile, which trembled. "I have to clean the labs and make to-do lists for everyone so they can continue working without me."
Sephiroth's eyes remained cold.
Gast was sweating now, and ran his fingers over the tiny fist again. He had to get his coat sleeve free, and leave this room, as soon as possible. This was dangerous.
"Why don't you make your own to-do list?"
The silver-haired boy in the plastic shirt looked at him. Then he closed his eyes slowly, and turned his head. He looked at the papers behind him, in the corner on the floor. On the sheets were calculations scribbled that a boy his age wasn't supposed to know.
The creepy yet innocuous child turned around. The lab-coat sleeve slipped through his hand.
Gast sighed in relief.
Sephiroth walked to the study-corner, Gast walked backward to the door.
Sephiroth sat down. He rocked from left to right. "Where should I start?"
Gast's keycard kept missing the door's scanner, but he did not have the courage to turn around. "Start by writing down the topic," he smiled. "Just like in a lab report... but then one in advance. Experiment. By the end of tomorrow, see if you finished your list."
"Topic." Sephiroth decided.
Beep. The door clicked, gave way. Gast hurried out.
Sephiroth reached for a pencil. It was the last thing Gast saw of him before the door to the specimen container-room shut.
"And?" Doctor Ifalna said.
Gast jumped. His heart shot up to his throat. He whirred around, stared at the woman beside him. Then all tension left him. He bowed forward and put a hand on his heart. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry."
Gast shook his head. "I'm sorry. Don't go in. I triggered one of his moods."
"But he looks so sweet..." she said, and put a hand on the glass.
Sephiroth picked up two pencils and held then in front of his face to see which tip was sharper.
"Take a good look, and let's go. We won't see him for a long time."
Muses: Vincent Valentine & Sephiroth Crescent
Muns: SanguineSaint & rp-Sephiroth
Tags: #sephicent #ns fw mentions #flirts #cute #making up #mid-superlong-roleplay
Summary: During a N S F W scene (not shown here) Vincent pulled Sephiroth's hair in a way that set him off. Sephiroth stopped further interaction, and Valentine hereby goes for a nightly swim. The General watches him.
Sephiroth remained by the fire of the beach. He glanced at the swimming man, and for a moment he was distracted by the way the water clung to the black hair, the open mouth when he gasped for air after a dive, and water running over the naked skin in the flashes of faraway lightning.
Vincent Valentine looked... not bad, not bad at all.
"Valentine. Return, or soon I'll need a cold bath."
Walking was as much a difficulty alright; although, it was nothing I had not managed before. Four glasses of beer in a dingy bar where your one night stand can never seem to keep their hands to themselves: you get the picture.
Bless Minerva the beach is not too far. Had it lay at a greater ditance, I might have found myself at his mercy now. Claret irises were to be stolen back occasionally even when both oculus were promptly brought to full shutter at mother's salty embrace.
Both swimming experience really could have been pleasant considering the lack of the beach's glaring sun. Still, those were not decisions opted by my own design.
There were his eyes on my back....
What were you thinking....?
Breaking the surface, my breathe formed a white hazy mist against night's blacken shade as my digits drifted up to comb back the raven locks.
The cold was a reprieve of sort, a distraction. It has not healed.
I exhaled a sharp air, shook my head.
"Come down then. You might need one anyway, considering."
Valentine was as beautiful as a mermaid in the waves. His long hair clung to his body and he could have been part of a commercial if only he'd been up for it. Sephiroth remembered combing through it, braiding it, in the night both of them had fallen asleep in the same bed and woken up nose-to-nose.
Sephiroth got up, and -wearing all his dry clothes- he sauntered to the beach until the waves lapped over his feet. There was a light drizzle falling from the dark sky and turned his back to the wind to shield his eyes from the droplets. He looked at Vincent as he dived down for another wave, then re-surfaced. Unfair, how gorgeous he was.
He huffed, folded his arms and lift his chin.
"Vincent! How's the hard-on coming along?"
Vincent Valentine would have resented that unvoiced remark, himself being compared to a meremaid. He would have been truly so. Being pretty/beautiful is not the same with being constantly told so, or mistaken when you are actually a man.
Sometime the mistake occurs even when that Valentine was still having his suit on, or still bore the same 184 cm height he often carried -- how unfortunate, veld said, snickering.
Having broken the surface, I fell back. Letting the wave lap at my form and carried me where it will. The light drizzle falling from the sky may have caused fine raven fringes to comb more frequently across scintillating orbs of crimson shading, but it was nothing as dire as the possiblity of having my form mulitated beyond recognition sometime back then. I raised both arms toward my face. The digits of my left hand would brush lightly across the still bruised lower tiers before I rub both hands over my face and back toward the slender nape, ...
-- there, exhaled a soft sigh.
"Tolerably well enough. You could come in and find out if you are so curious."
There, form would turn, meeting calmly his gaze before with a small shrug of shoulder, I slowly found my way back to the shore, only stop when I reached the level where I could safely walk. The waves lap softly at my nape and collarbone.
Sephiroth sighed. He remained standing for a minute, then undressed and walked into the sea.
He moved to Vincent, looked at him, said nothing.
Frankly,
I
has not expected that.
Moreorless, I was expecting more of a snide remark from him.
So when he started stripping his now /dry/ cloth, claret irises would follow closely his move. Only when he started threading through the tides that such reality truly began to settle. Have you listen to a song that you thought you did know its rhyme? Soon, you begin to hum the tone you thought was right to it, even when sometimes it was entirely not.
Forward I took a step. Having came to him, we stood face to face. Funny that it should be noted now how white my breathe is in this near dark. It's almost as white as his skin, the smooth ivory expanse now tentatively mapped with my fingers, tenuous limbs as cold as ice in comparison to his heat.
Forward, I leaned in to place upon his lips a chaste kiss... and there, head would bow -- temple resting on temple and hand resting against cheek, shuttered lashes stole Gaia of her crimson moons.
"...Sorry."
This wasn't easy, but when he moved to wrap his thick arms around Vincent's shoulders, it felt like his soul was doing this all on its own. His mind didn't understand. His body didn't respond, but it felt so right. Sephiroth didn't breathe at all -he hardly ever did and only when he thought he should- but now he breathed in the scent of the sea. He tightened his grip, pressing the both of them chest-to-chest and knee-to-knee.
"I am-"
At the last moment he saw from the corner of his eye, a big wave appear beside them. He instinctively pulled away from Vincent into an defensive stance, and lift an arm to shield their faces, as if it was an attack. Then the crescent of water collapsed on top of them, spraying droplets and foam everywhere. Sephiroth stood still, but barely. His right foot moved over the sandy wrinkles of the sea's floor. When the water pulled away, most of his hair was over his face, covering his head like a tall silver mob.
"..."
He lift a hand to his face and pushed the grey locks of hair over his forehead, and sloshed them back. He started laughing, softly and happily.
Muses: President Rufus Shinra & Sephiroth
Muns: BloodiedRequiem & rp-Sephiroth
Tags: #N S F W topic #SephirothxRufus
Summary: Post DoC, Sephiroth and Rufus are living together: Sephiroth walks into a room and they talk.
Based on a roleplay with BloodiedRequiem. Not a fanfiction, no feels, no real quality. But reading this chat-style roleplay made me happy: that's why I'm safekeeping it.
Sephiroth walked into the crisp white Shin-Ra lounge room. The Ruler of the Company looked up from his phone, blue eyes scanned the visitor before giving a late permit to come in: "Hi."
- "Good afternoon."
- "How have you been?"
Sephiroth sat down next to him. "I've been not so well. Confused. Wording the reports has been a challenge."
- "You shouldn't have to write reports. It's not your problem. You do enough as it is. After all, the President is alive because of you. Don't you have a secretary?"
Sephiroth looked at Rufus as if he'd farted. "A secretary? Really."
"....just a thought." Rufus shrugged. "It would give me more time to fuck you," he said absently.
- "Yes, but my men would want my secretary to go into battle, too." Sephiroth didn't reply to the second comment for a while. Then: "Receive you," he corrected. "I do the fucking, you do the receiving."
"Touche. Perhaps that is why my secretary doesn't exist." Rufus chuckled when Sephiroth spoke again. He shook his head.
"Who said you wouldn't get fucked if you were around more often."
Sephiroth sighed. "I'd get very jealous if you'd spend time with your secretary. I can tolerate Tseng, but that's because of our.. history."
Rufus chuckled, then he raised a brow. "Your....history?"
- "Our history. Did he ever tell you I almost killed him?"
- "...That what not what I thought you were referring to. Yes, I know you almost killed him...a few times."
- "I know I can dominate... that's not the good word. I know I can handle Tseng when he gets too close."
"Doesn't it excite you though, dealing with the risks that surround keeping me so close?"
"Hm, dominate is not the right word. Not for that situation," Rufus chuckled, "but yes, I know you can be superior."
"It's how you prefer me," Sephiroth said. "You're always... louder and more energetic when you're up against me."
- "Because you give me a challenge, when everyone else just falls to their knees."
"Everybody but Cloud...." Sephiroth mused.
"Cloud?" Rufus almost spat, "Cloud is an idiot. A brave idiot."
"Aren't you all?" Sephiroth mused with a voice like a spell.
"Maybe just us blonds," he chuckled, swallowing. He smirked.
"You're extra." Sephiroth reached out and ran a hand through the hair. Fingers tangled at the end in a fist. Tight squeeze, then he let go.
Rufus leaned into the touch before pulling away to lean against his arm. He smiled at the other for a moment. "Extra what?"
- "Stupid."
- "It is no fun when it isn't difficult or dangerous."
"If this had been easy..." he whispered. "Would you have permitted yourself to dive in? Like your power is interesting to me, I think my reputation of finality attracts you to me. After all..." He brushed through the hair a second time. "Nothing good can come from this, can it? It'll go wrong. You love it. You look forward to it." Sephiroth said.
Rufus's smirk became a full smile as he listened. He could have laughed, but he kept silent for a moment.
"I look forward to it, yes," Rufus said calmly, "because you are the only person who comes close to being my equal."
"Of course, my love," Sephiroth said in the most condecending, but not sarcastic, way and kissed Rufus' temple.
Rufus laughed, wholely and openly. He tugged hard on Sephiroth's hair and pulled him down to cause him to be face to face, and he bit at Sephiroth's lips.
Muses: Sephiroth and Elena
Muns: rp-Sephiroth and @tacticalxkiller
Summary: Crack.
On screen:
Sephiroth walks in.
"…."
"My…apologies. I didn’t quite realize you were not interested in partners." (aka men)
"Not with psychopaths who’ve hurt the only people I call family."
"Join my family, then: More people. Less easily hurt."
A sharp bark of laughter was his only response.
"I’m sorry, that was a joke, right? The only thing your family is good for is target practice."
Less easily hurt was right, those damn remnants were fast, too fast. No amount of haste spells or training would ever be enough to help her catch up to them long enough to beat any one of them into a bloody pulp. Elena had been lucky to land a headbutt on Yazoo not long ago.
"You still need the practise," Sephiroth said. "If you want, you and I could train together. One on one."
”..Practice….”
Her voice dropped to a low tone, ember orbs narrowing as she moved closer to glare up at him. “Alright, Sephiroth…let’s do a little training now….” A grenade was seemingly produced out of thin air and she tossed it up before catching it again.
"We’ll play army….You lay down and stay really still….." One slender digit hooked around the pin. "And I’ll blow the hell out of you."
“Blow me until your jaw’s permanently dislocated, Turk. I take up your offer. Get started by unzipping my pants with your teeth.”
"Sorry, I’m not interested in contracting GeostigHerpes…you can just continue to get your masamune ‘polished’ by one of your other SOLDIER buddies."
"I wish I could say the same to you, but alas… No one wants a girl who bites.”
"Please, there are plenty of fans of biting." Herself being one of them but that was beside the point. "If we’re done here you can leave, I have work to do."
Otherwise she was going to open fire.
Sephiroth glanced from her mouth to his crotch and back. “Get on with it then.”
The pointed look didn’t go unnoticed. Elena bared her teeth at him, spitting out in a venomous tone.
"Leave. Now."
Sephiroth lift one eyebrow, but said nothing. With a lift of a hand he turned, and walked away.
It was so refreshing to run into someone that wasn’t a fan. He should visit her more often. “Thank you for your time.”
A relieved sigh was exhaled as he turned and she sunk into her chair, slowly placing the grenade back in her arsenal. At least a fight had been avoided.
When he spoke, she ‘shooed’ him away with a wave of her hand and dove right in to the paperwork that was piled high on her desk.
[End of thread]
Wow, this was crack. Thank you for writing with me!
