Stigma | Overlay
“We’ve work to do.”
A gentle rain of black feathers drifted from the sky as the silver-haired man drifted from the sky, his feet gently touching down on the concrete as he landed. From his perch above, he’d been able to survey the chaotic surroundings -- now, as his single wing folded behind him and dispersed into a fine black mist to be carried away by the wind, he surveyed the three figures before him.
A ghost...was one way Sephiroth could be described. He was a remnant of his past self, but in becoming such a thing, he had gained so much. One could compare him to a god of negativity, a parasitic force of evil which clutched to its own existence in a vice grip. Among those before him, there were two quite similar to him...and one simple human on whom his gaze lingered, a pitiless smile forming on his thin lips.
“...A name, they requested of us...so we will be Team Stigma. Etch it onto your hearts...if you so wish. Now then...if we are to survive, it seems we should commence as soon as possible. We all understood the basics from the call they sent out, yes?”
@angelicslaughter > @angelkirael > @unilaterali > @ceardai
