Closed Starter for @ghostofnibelheim
It had taken some time to pinpoint the exact location of the general down here in the deepest recesses of this old forgotten place. Hard to believe that ShinRa would simply abandon such a prominent relic of its history nestled within the scenic shadow of Mount Nibel.
Alas, they had, and left it to fester and crumble in favour of pastures new, or so it would seem. The place reeked of mildew, the old furniture, once ornate and pristine simply rotting in haphazard piles in the corners of each room. Memories had been made here once, the rapid evolution of a humble business now established at the very epicentre of the mako metropolis virtually on the other side of the world; an empire as it were, where both men and monster would tremble beneath the mighty weight of the president's wrath.
Some days Roche could find pride for his service within the company, where his deeds were deemed to be good and just - exacting the will of ShinRa to bring prosperity to the lives of all men.
Others, like today, that pride would shrink like a lonesome flower denied the fruitful light of the ancient sun. A shadow cast the moment he’d spied the plaque framing the summit of the stairwell in Nibel’s reactor; JENOVA.
Sephiroth had not been himself since, and the Second liked to believe that he knew Sephiroth quite well, though perhaps not as well as he’d like. Still, enough to know there was something dark and unsettling rattling deep within the silver SOLDIER’s psyche. So thankful had he been upon the First’s fitful vanishing act that the villagers ran their mouths as one would run a motor, so little time had it taken for him to find his commanding officer, nay, his friend, holed up in this forgotten library.
Like a moth to a flame, Sephiroth was drawn to tomes and the knowledge they gifted.
Needless to say, that one Second Class SOLDIER was not the type for delicate entrances, tramping through the dust crusted hallway, the dirt crunching beneath each heavy boot, like a man on a mission - not quite as far from the truth as Roche would certainly like to admit.
“My dearest friend!” With a wide sweep of both arms he bellowed only from the other side of the expansive desk of which Sephiroth had perched; his back to him, so broad of shoulder, hunched and tense with whatever burdens would ail him. Clear as day to ascertain this man was not feeling well even without the local folks’ input.
“A mighty fine fare you so sorely missed. Our hosts certainly noticed your absence, as did we!” There was no malice nor mockery in his tone, perhaps an unintentional edge of concern but given the biker’s sheer volume and incessant jubilant nature there was no doubt the latter would simply go unnoticed.
