"White castle, gold towers"

Rufus ShinRa Roleplayer

[thronelessprince]

"Reputation? I have a reputation?"

|| Questioning Sentences, Vol 8 Status: Accepting! At first, the blonde merely blinked up at his Turk, slow, perhaps offering a moment for Reno to come up with some excuse or take back what he had said. But when the time allotted for such penitence expired, Rufus merely shook his head. "For better, or for worse, you have one." Now, the assessment did not speak to Reno's true competencies, but there were times that certainly left one to wonder where skill ended and luck began.

[thronelessprince]

"If he's such a threat, why not eliminate him?"

|| Questioning Sentences, Vol 8 Status: Accepting! "AVALANCHE still serves a purpose." Came the blonde's simple reply, fingers interlacing. "Both the splinter and main operations offer us discretion to accomplish what is necessary for the inevitable transition." He spoke as though patricide were no more interesting than discussing the weather. Not only no more interesting, but as inevitable. "The splinter and its leader take focus from the board to address. Eliminating him prematurely would allow for introspection. There is no need to increase chances of failure. And, should ShinRa's new policies continue to provoke AVALANCHE, we will then take action." It was not so simple as a game of chess, one side versus another. A queen of one could serve an unseen party, a king replaced, sides changed. And whoever failed to adapt in the changing tides of power would be the ones that drowned. "Naturally, should Mr. Wallace threaten us directly, he is not so important as to evade neutralization entirely."

[thronelessprince]

❝ So, what is it you want me to keep an eye on? ❞

|| Questioning Sentences, Vol 8 Status: Accepting! The quiet pitter-patter against the window pane foretold of ill weather ahead. It was late, the night well underway. But while many slept, their dreams idling away, Rufus was awake, toiling to fulfill them, whether or not they came around to truly recognize it. Everyone wanted utopia. No one was willing to pay the price. "Oh? Earlier than I expected." He commented neutrally, looking up from the blaring glow of his laptop. While he did not smile, nor offer much by ways of how he felt on the matter, his icy blue eyes set upon the devil as a figure of interest. It was a compliment, at least coming from one as reticent as Rufus. "Wall Market. Den of filth and unsightly people. My father may profit from Don Corneo's antics, but I find it lacking in sustainability. The selection of his 'brides' is a tightlipped enterprise, especially when."

A pause, mechanical, almost. Then, "Think you could do that? I will make it worth your while."

[crownmemes]

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 8

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Do I detective a hint of negeativity?"

"Is that what you really believe?"

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

"Did you really think you could call up the Devil and ask him to behave?"

"Reputation? I have a reputation?"

"What do you mean you can't remember what happened?"

"What are you saying you believe now?"

"You presume to dictate duty to me?"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Have you ever tasted blood?"

"You ever had the suspicion that you've been abducted by aliens?"

"How come you don't believe me?"

"Do you have a problem with us working together?"

"Don't you want to live forever?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a great problem coming to the point?"

"Am I being accused of lying?"

"Why don't I have a desk?"

"What's the matter? Don't you believe in miracles?"

"It's happening again, isn't it?"

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"You ever experienced a period of missing time?"

"Why would I make them so uncomfortable?"

"I heard reports of several UFO sightings in this area last night. Did you see anything?"

"If he's such a threat, why not eliminate him?"

"Is this demonstration of boyish agility turning you on at all?"

"What are you asking for? Mercy or forgiveness?"

"So, what is it you want me to keep an eye on?"

"What the hell are you doing here this late?"

"Why are you sitting in my bedroom in the dark?"

"You're not thinking of trespassing onto government property again, are you?"

"How many people are suffering while you stand here not doing your job?"

"I'm assuming you're familiar with the early indications of repressed memory?"

"Why should I tell the truth if you won't?"

"Who are you to decide what's right?"

"You think I'm the Devil?"

"So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this?"

"Did I not mention that I'm an escape artist?"

"Why are you so paranoid?"

"Why can't you just go for the simple answer?"

[thronelessprince]

gcldfanged​:

“Ooh, promising. Don’t worry, you’ll love the taste of cock by the time I’m finished with you,” he promises, a thin knife’s swedge of a smirk twisting his expression from lazy amusement into something far more sinister.

Hell, he might even be inclined to watch- The concept of seeing such a spoiled little Daddy’s Boy treated like an expendable piece of meat was just too good- He’d practically kiss the tears of utter despair from Rufus’ tragic, crushed little face after letting a couple horny ex-cons have a go at him.

The question diffuses his wrath a little, Jae running the tip of his tongue over his teeth in thought.

“Why can’t I hate both? You coming down here like the Angel of the Slums or some shit. You’re practically dripping with arrogance and pride, offering an olive branch like you’re the first person to ever spare a crumb of acknowledgment to the rats skittering under the upper plates. Who do you think you are- You want to make the world a better place? That’s all fine and dandy, but how? You actually think you can get rid of all the drugs or the pimps or the exploitation there’s always a demand for? Don’t make me laugh. You can’t even save your own skin.”

Well, maybe not- Tseng could honestly be waiting in some dingy corner ready to pounce, or even have sniper sights on Jae’s head from a high vantage point through a forgotten window.

“So, humor me before I start getting anymore saucy ideas for your impending future. Reveal your carefully plotted schemes to me, make me laud your foresight and wisdom, O’ Chessmaster.”

Wriggling, like snakes, Jae’s words and their venom sought their writhing way beneath his flesh. They slithered where they did not belong, bit and preyed at any person would reasonably fear. It was easy to become poisoned, for one’s sight to redden, to see only blood through a veil of tears.  But Rufus neither cried nor bled.  Whatever threats Jae issued, within a staggered breath, the throneless prince settled. Tseng’s aim was pure, and judgement sound.  Silent, searing eyes set upon Jae with an icy intensity, scouring, brittling, then battering whatever defenses sought to dissuade him. He listened through the threats. He beheld the wrath. Good. Good.  “If you are fine with the world the way it is, be my guest to maintain it. Do nothing. The same nothing that was done for you.” Rufus replied. Decidedly, perhaps it was fine enough to hold Jae’s hatred. It was far more workable than apathy. “But what I see is a hypocrite of a man turning down an opportunity for the betterment of the very thing that made him. For what? Because I have not lived your life? Because you blame me?”  His blood pounded in his veins. Nasty, little snakes-- they caused his tone to strain to remain neutral.  “Because you can’t possibly fathom that any other life than the miserable one you have lived could hold any meaning? That you could mean something, and do something.” Blue-fire, cold, but no less wrathful, no less distinctly furious, burned into Jae’s figure.  “Are you really content to drink yourself to death over one shattered dream?”

[thronelessprince]

gcldfanged​:

Jae huffs out a breath in a long-suffering manner, brow creasing even as a incredulous smirk graces his lips.

“When you dream, you certainly go for the peak, don’t you?” he asks rhetorically, leaning his chin against the heel of his hand in a somewhat amused fashion.

Yoon was about to ask just how ShinRa Jr. planned on making such a grandiose vision a reality, until the blonde struck an arguably sore point. There wasn’t even time to think or breathe, the blinding rage that overtook him was that sudden.

Bottles clanked and rolled and shattered against the floor as Jae pushed back off of his chair, clawing a hand into the lapels of Rufus’ coat and yanking, about five centimeters from dropping the fabric and closing said fingers around the taller man’s throat.

“What the fuck would you know about anything? Oh man- Look at YOU, how noble. A real Prince Charming,” he hisses out between clenched teeth, oversized canines capped in pure gold glistening in the soft, ambient light.

“Someone like you wouldn’t understand hardship if you looked it up in a dictionary. When have you ever lost anything, scraped the absolute bottom of the barrel in terms of options? Everything you could ever want was probably handed to you on a gilded tray, fucking thrown at you like a sacrifice on an altar, crowned upon your oh-so special brow like a wreath of laurel leaves. You, managing a pang of empathy for the dirty, common worker bee crawling around in the mud beneath your God-like feet? I don’t buy it for a goddamn second.”

Jae wanted to rip his face off with his teeth and worry it like a rabid jackal, throw it to the other baying mongrels rooting through the refuse and the garbage to get by.

His little tirade had certainly caught the attention of the rest of the bar, whoever wasn’t quickly gathering their things to abruptly leave began to eagerly await the show about to play out for their amusement.

“I should just KILL you and turn you into food for the pigs, all I’d have to do is make sure all your teeth get removed and ground down into powder. There won’t be any fingerprints left once you’ve been digested and converted down into pig shit. Think you’ll come out white and gold, then?”

He stares the blonde down, sneering in an ugly and mocking fashion.

“Wonder how much I could get if I just took you as collateral for ruining my buzz. Someone might want a crack at that pretty little face of yours…” he trails off, considering.

“You like being fucked up the ass? I can see a whole mob of people willing to go to town on that pampered little tush.”

For all the threats Rufus had uttered to his face, this one was by far the most visceral. By far the most interesting. Trump cards were not always so infallible as one might originally believe. They were just as much a joker, if anything, outplayed by the lowest of the low-- emotion. People were ruled by it, to their betterment, for their detriment.  Briefly, Rufus felt an old bitterness ghost his tongue before he swallowed it down. The scent of alcohol was heavy on Jae’s breath, and the whitening of the other male’s knuckles against his jacket spoke of that blinding rage that took him.  Then, a thin smile of realization slipped onto his features, serene, almost, in this scene of chaos. All eyes were upon them, bodies shifting anxiously at the arrival of an all out brawl.  “Hmm. I see.” While a note winded from the sudden and rough handling, Rufus seemed almost distracted for a moment before he came back into the crystal clear reality of his current position, the pure and utter venom that poured into him from those dark, hateful eyes. “Mostly, at least.” “Is it that you hate me, or the idea?” One could be worked with. The other could not. Yet somehow, despite his dogged neutrality and apathy, the creep of tension rose into his throat as he spoke. A hand enclosed itself atop Jae’s, holding it-- perhaps tempted to clasp it and prevent it from moving any closer to his neck.  It was human. Rufus, disgustingly, was human.  It reminded him of his purpose, however. It was to slaughter that sensation, to remove the conflicts, the circumstances that pushed people to extremes. Calm. Don’t raise your voice. Strangle it, before he strangles you.  Jaw clenching tight, Rufus took in a breath, gradually releasing Jae’s hand. It would work, or it wouldn’t.  ..But what if it wouldn’t? What then?

[thronelessprince]

gcldfanged​:

He was acting like a child. He knew it, but didn’t have the heart to stop. His emotions were all over the fucking place- not helped by the natural depressant he was swilling by the glassful.

Verdot wasn’t some kind of monster to be reviled, blamed, and hated. He could have left him there, ignored what wasn’t his problem nor his responsibility to take under his wing. And he didn’t, even if it may have been easier to walk away. He chose to stay and cultivate a obviously dying sprout reaching out of the cracked pavement that had managed to survive, despite… well, everything.

Without the elder man, where would Jae be? He didn’t really have to think all that hard to find an answer, as morbid as it was.

Yet that bruised and bleeding something inside of his chest ached all the same. Nobody ever stayed, they always managed to find something (someone) else that was more important. As much as he hated feeling vulnerable or dependent on another, he was still human and possessed of essential human needs. Survival just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

Rufus cut a striking image, presented a very tempting offer, but the former Turk knew better than anyone that there was an unspoken cost- a price paid for something gained.

“What do you want. Besides my connections,” he asks, though he has a feeling he already knows the answer. Killing, lying, stealing, enforcement… It was all the same at the end of the day, the old trades his hands and mind were best suited for.

“You need to know about the flow of contraband in the Black Market, sure- I’m your guy. But you could easily find that information somewhere else, even team up with them to try and crush my operation. Didn’t think people like you wanted to bother with the immigrants and refugees coming into Edge.”

“People like me?” Rufus echoed, dissecting the drunken slur of a statement. With surgical precision, he cut out the words, the tone, assembled, reassembled them until they offered every little bit of bleeding heart he had come to taste the moment they had been offered.  Comfortable, Rufus leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by the question as though it were no more consequential than one sating their curiosity on a hobby. Facts were simple.  “There is no one like me, except for me. I am not my father, nor any former board Director or Commissioner. The very conception of Midgar was a failure from the start. I do not intend to follow those same footsteps.” He explained, lacking condescension or even excitement. There simply was no need to play pretend here. Midgar had been built to fail, off the backs of slum dwellers to support an upper echelon that had grown fat and stupid from their success. What use was an empire if it burned all of its foundation? Destroyed what made it great?  Everyone was capable of brutality. There was no difference between monster and human-- just what choices that were made available.  “As for what I want?” A pause. There were a multitude of ways to say it-- now which one would cause Jae to bite? To understand? To fully realize the potential that the state of the world was in right now? “White castles, gold rooftops.” Cryptic, before he blew a light hum of amusement through his nose, self-aware of how ridiculous it sounded with or without context. “I’m tired of this imperfect world. The one that sends men to war for nothing more than a lazy grasp at power. The one that greedily sets one person against another, regardless of their supposed bond.” Then, piercing blue eyes set upon Jae like a vice.  “The one that allows for young women to be trafficked and sold, futures robbed and thrust into a life where there just is no winning. Not yet, at least. But right now, people have hope. They seek change. And there is every potential to mold what ShinRa could never obtain.”

[saengjonja]

The smoothness of the glass slid against his gloved fingers, Jae unmoving aside from barely lifting his head to glare at the person across from him through a curtain of thick, dark hair.

“Don’t you usually rely on Tseng if you need shit taken care of?” he asks, not really caring about nor expecting an answer from Rufus- a man who was, for all accounts, supposed to be dead.

Listless blue eyes drop down to soju offered and he knocks it back with a rough exhale.

He hated Verdot.

Jae hated Verdot so much.

He was so angry, so bitter, so resentful. He hated him so, so much and yet still felt indebted to him so, so much that his heart was charred with yearning.

Jae knew he was a cruel, callous person. Deeply jealous, possessive, impulsive, too quick to write others off and defer to biting sarcasm or violence. Weak. That’s why he coveted respect and power. If only he were stronger, he could become a better person- or so he thought. If he just managed to surpass someone who possessed that strength, then… 

He felt something grow taut and tug painfully inside of him, preparing to snap. All the hopes and adoration he’d felt towards Verdot when the man had first rescued him had been shattered to pieces and a yawning emptiness began to seep through the spreading cracks in his heart. 

Had Verdot ever cared about him?

“If you want something, then stop being cute and say it.”

[thronelessprince]

What was emptied was swiftly filled again, the clear soju swirling about the edges of Jae’s drained shot glass. “Would it really be all that convincing if it came one step from the source?” Rufus replied simply, matter-of-factly. For less delicate matters, Tseng was more than capable. But right here and now, in the dim lights of this dingy shithole, there was no one else that would suffice.  Besides, it was a brilliant opportunity, one that Rufus would be a fool not to jump into with all his sharp shards, claws, and teeth, wrangle the meat that had been so carelessly discarded. Verdot was a fool-- so much power, but limited by his own sentiments. Claiming family and bonds as his core values, then, throwing them away when there were more important things at stake. Inconsistent. Weak.  Rufus never once wavered on his goals. Everyone knew what to expect. That was true power-- knowing full well the cards on the table, and having to play the role offered as there would be no better.  “The world is on the move. The old replaced with new. It’s already in your hands-- the dark shadow that inevitably mirrors every bright and shining spectacle.” A pause as a pitying look set over the torn and broken creature slumped in drunken stupor over something so human as a heartache.  But human they were. And whatever condition humans were put in, they chose the path that best suit them. It made them unpredictable to control-- it was ShinRa’s grave mistake. They did not think big enough, encompassing, meeting every need to where there was no reason to rebel. Perfection, a world of conditions that it was in everyone’s best interest to behave. Selfishness manipulated for the better.  Agency was an illusion.  “But you need a foothold. I need a shadow with a thumb on the pulse of your world.” And with Verdot out of the way, an opening made in the fissures of a wounded heart, Rufus knew when there was blood in the water. He would drive what wedges he needed. Let the pieces heal apart. Ideally, around someone new.  He would see if he played his cards right.  “WRO-- impenetrable. Until now. Unless you’d rather drown yourself. I’m happy to oblige.” Cold eyes flickered to the next shot glass. Many ways to skin this cat. 

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

Rufus. ShinRa?

Pale brows knit together in a furrow as the young boy lifted his gaze across the room, to one of the machines in the room filled with tubes and wires that neither of them had the knowledge to understand the purpose of. The black and red logo emblazoned on the side popped to the eye with arrogance. A symbol he’d seen many times, woven on the lab coats of the doctors, or printed at the back of their clipboards.

Even then, he appeared at a loss of answers. And slowly he shook his head. 

“… I don’t know what a weapon is. Or how to make one…” His words trailed off. Not for lack of questions, he had many. But something else had caught his attention, and the boy turned around to the door again.

A tense few seconds of silence, before the metal rang, struck by something heavy on the other side. The whole door vibrated within its frame, just once; then, a strange noise followed. Like water gurgling at the bottom of a very large sink, breathy, slow.

Hm.  Rufus did suppose knowledge was power. And if one wanted to control something that could very well be ultimately bound only by invisible strings, it was perhaps best to say nothing at all.  But what if he did say something? What would this specimen do with the power? It was not as though anyone else was here, or if they were focusing on the two, Rufus had no indication. “A weapon is--” SLAM.  CRUNCH. The protest of metal against unimaginable forces caused this little dome of pseudo privacy to rattle and shake. And for all that Rufus ShinRa was, intelligent, observant, perhaps a little odd, he was still only a child. Uneasy, he stepped back and away from the door, expression pensive.  Don’t cry.  His lips pursed together. That.. That gurgling noise.  “What.. was that?” He asked, perhaps the least knowledgeable individual on the topic, brilliant blue eyes flashing over at Sephiroth. “This... this.. it’s safe in here, right?”

[thronelessprince]

gcldfanged​:

@thronelessprince

How much blood could the human body hold?

It was a question that he’d asked himself countless times. How much blood did a person have? What injuries would it take to kill them? How would they look as they begged for their lives?

It hadn’t even been planned out, just a lucky guess. Sawing through the carotid artery in Masa’s neck. He was a well built man- Thick with muscles, strong, even a little handsome. His veins were easy to spot, they bulged from the backs of his hands, down his arms, through his neck. His heart was still beating, fruitlessly pumping more blood up to his brain. Spraying out of the severed artery like water from a burst pipe. 

It was warm when it misted his clothing, soaked into the knitted fabric of his sweater vest. Pure white blouse and pleated skirt streaked with red. Loose socks heavy with vitae. He’d never stepped foot into a school building in his entire life. The uniform was little more than a sick parody, a mocking spectacle made to entertain his former owner.

The image of his savior had burned itself into his memory- Tall with auburn hair, steely eyes, and a scar running along the side of his cheek. The tall man stepped forward and suddenly his jacket was draped around Jae’s damp shoulders- the collar smelled like crisp wintry woods his grandfather used to hunt in, herbaceous and green, with just a touch of sweet sulphurous cognac. 

Jae had loved it. The way he looked, smelled, spoke. It wasn’t enough to be like Verdot, he wanted be Verdot. It was a dark desire that coiled deep inside his chest, too ruddy and intense and obsessive to be called a distant dream.

And yet, in this moment, Jae-hyo sees him for what he truly is. He’s just a man- Human. Fallible and flawed. Vulnerable. Selfish. Tragic.

Broken.

He takes a step forward and rests his hands upon broad shoulders he can now easily reach, and smiles. 

“From now on, I hope every day is a quiet nightmare. I hope that every moment is terrifying and meaningless. And when you do finally begin to take your last breath, I hope it’s somewhere dark and cold without an ounce of warmth or kindness to ease your rotten soul into the afterlife. You’re going to die, pitiful and alone, in complete ruins with no dignity left.”

Jae leans in, pressing his lips to the side of a scarred cheek, lowering his voice to something soft- like a lover might use. Granting his former idol a cold and gentle kiss of death.

“Don’t let me down.”

-

Rows of empty bottles and glasses form a kind of defensive wall around the former Turk, who currently has his face buried between his crossed arms. He looks like a depressed salary man (albeit with a better suit), having long overstayed his welcome. The employees just look tired and too frightened to ask him to leave so they could go home and pass out, only to wake up and do it all over again.

A black and gold cigarette smolders in a crystal tray, burning down to the ornately decorated filter with a long, cylindrical piece of ash- Untouched and forgotten.

Crisp footsteps echo on a tiled floor, announcing someone’s presence in a manner too obvious and dramatic to be anything than the lofty display it was.

Jae clenches his eyes shut against the dim lighting of the bar top, crushing his forehead against his designer watch and leather gloves. Maybe if he presses hard enough, he might hit brain matter. The alcohol should have long numbed his emotions, fermented his amygdala. 

“Get lost, I’m busy drinking here if you haven’t noticed,” he remarks icily, the effect somewhat lessened due to being muffled. 

Frankly, Rufus ShinRa was glad to be dead.  He, the final piece of ShinRa’s legacy, killed by what many called the ‘divine will of the planet,’ was the final shackle that freed the people from a reign of a flawed machine, ineffective, and a waste. Perhaps if AVALANCHE had succeeded earlier, Rufus might have had the opportunity to turn it around. It was perhaps one of the more frustrating aspects of reaching his goals. Power was power, even in the hands of stupid men; shortsighted, unambitious dullards who found their lives somehow fulfilled on the fine wines and flashes of photography as their fame and notoriety filled their heads until they popped. With so much potential at the tips of their fingers, yet, his father, the board of Directors, all were satisfied with something so simple to obtain, and still, they fucked it up.  To be expected. But sometimes, it was only by fire that the imperfect could be purged. It was an eventuality, whether or not ShinRa fell. Bad roots were bad roots.  Crisp footsteps clipped into the dimly lit bar, the smell of cigarette smoke, vomit, and alcohol greeting the former President. Whether they were a display of presence or not, Rufus did not care. Cold eyes scanned the drunkards, the lowlifes and scum that festered here with no more deference than he would a king. Neither meant anything to him. Their suspicious eyes and mutterings did not penetrate his visage, examining each and every face for someone. Someone that did matter.  Someone useful, at least.  Thorough, from one side of the room to the next until finally an uneasy barkeep approached him, asked what the trouble was. But just over the barkeep’s shoulders, Rufus spied his quarry. He offered no answer nor apology as he brushed through the tender to seat himself directly across the familiarly suited, if not a touch upgraded face currently buried in whatever woes that so clutched him.  Someday, places like this would not exist.  There would be no need.  Rufus did not answer Jae either. Rather, he merely took up two shot glasses between his fingers, pouring the remnants of whatever spirit Jae had drowned himself with. One, he slid to the other.  The second, he drank himself. Quiet.  Listening. He was not his father. One learned far more if they kept their mouth shut. 

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

The pointing seemed to bring the boy’s attention to the IV taped in his hand for the first time then; he didn’t regard it with surprise, but rather a strangely entranced stare at his hand, turning it around and back, flexing his fingers. He hadn’t given it any thought until now.

“… Sometimes.” He answered quietly, maybe to either or both of the questions. His hand returned down by the side. “But the doctors don’t seem to worry.”

And so neither should he, right?

But then again, the times it did hurt, and the times he did cry never seemed to coincide.

“Maybe you are here so they can take care of you too. Do you have a name?”

It was curious. Amidst the blaring alarms and obvious chaos that Rufus knew to be occurring outside of this little glass world, everything held a dampened quality, an eye of the storm, so to speak. The ground rumbled and quaked with the approach of whatever it was that had sent the labs into such a panic.  Yet, here this test subject was, calm and tranquil as a lake. Not a ripple to be found.  “Rufus ShinRa.” The blonde replied, mirroring the calm he beheld. It was his gift of camouflage. To blend in any crowd, to reflect what one wanted to hear even if it did not fully represent how Rufus truly felt. He did not need to be honest to get what he wanted.  Perhaps that was why this test subject baffled him. What benefit was there to admitting one cried? Was to it garner his pity? Possibly. But it did not seem so. Rather, it felt like a mere representation of fact. It was something Rufus could appreciate.  “And... they are not here to take care of you.” He stated simply. “You are a test subject in a facility seeking to create a weapon.” Rufus tested. “Does that make you angry?”

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

Something was coming. He felt it in the air, in the light vibrations of the building. Invisible to the eye, everything in the room was shaking faintly to the movements of something large, dangerous… and predatory. To the common person it may be hard to tell where it not for all the alarms and signs of an emergency being afoot, but for him it was almost like a sixth sense. Maybe a skill picked up wherever he used to be before this.

Here, the place that was not home.

His unfocused gaze filled anew with awareness when the door slid open and something tumbled inside and forward, stopping unceremoniously in the middle of the room and groaning. The glimpse of a figure in a lab coat and her voice as the door closed again. The scientist hadn’t addressed him, but the visitor rather.

A strange visitor the likes of which he’d never seen before. And still, it was oddly familiar. Was this the person he’d sensed behind the mirror?

Bare feet shifted to touch the floor and padded their way around the bed, followed by the dragged noise of a set of four wheels as the IV drip stand was pulled along with one hand. He came to a stop then, before the blond boy still recovering from the abrupt tossing.

“Does it hurt?” A quiet voice asked in the crimson-hued room. He observed the other with eyes curious and yet so distant, giving still that impression or artificiality. “Don’t cry.”

The first words he’d spoken in a long time, and no doctor was here to record them.

If it were not for the impressive sound proofing of this elegant dome prison, Rufus certainly would not have heard the quiet scuffle of medical equipment over the blare and state of general alarm outside. The young boy looked up, keen blue eyes boring into that of the subject he had waved to only moments before.  Only now, was he aware that the mirrors were one way.  Briefly, the blonde assessed. Rufus rolled his shoulder a bit before shaking his head. “A little.” He offered honestly, but with minimal inflection. It was a mere fact, and he saw no profit or advantage of lying. Meanwhile, somewhere in the back of his mind, a far more complicated process underwent.  “There... is no reason to cry.” He stated simply, but his voice tightened near the end. In reality, there was every reason not to cry. Clearly, he could not see out. The unknown made him uneasy. But anyone could see in, leaving him in the lurch of maintaining a perfect composure at all times. It was... taxing. And somehow, someway, the very idea that crying was an appropriate response made his heart twinge.  He wanted to, maybe. But if he entertained it in his range of possibilities, and it somehow was the best conclusion... What would he do? Boys don’t cry.  So, Rufus distracted himself instead. “Wouldn’t that hurt, having it in your arm all the time?” He pointed to the IV. Then,  “Do you cry?”

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

Obviously, across the reflective surface of the one-way mirror it was impossible for him to see the gesture he’d been addressed with. As far as the eyes could tell, anyway. Yet they remained glued in that spot, as though through some kind of skill.. or instinct, perhaps? The child knew that something interesting was behind that wall.

But before he could display this in any way that could perhaps intrigue the corportate heir, his attention was drawn to the ceiling, when all lights suddenly flickered dark and the emergency bulbs painted the whole floor a light red. Sirens blared a state of alert, while on the speakers installed at the corners of the ceiling, a robotic female voice droned:

[Attention. A breach has been detected. Initiating Security Lockdown. Please head for the nearest Safe Zone. Attention…]

The boy in the glass enclosure was not the only one whose attention was drawn to the blare of flashing emergency lights and the overhead comms. And while it was not a terribly common occurrence in the Science Department, a new level of panic rippled amongst the staff. A security breach was one thing. A security breach that potentially put the lives of ShinRa Sr. and his son was borderline catastrophe.  All at once, the room of once orderly and scholarly men erupted into chaos. Scientists tore across the room to man various stations, surveillance, mako readings, and other rather technical machines that proved a touch too difficult for Rufus to observe at his height.  The noise was irritating, the jostle of bodies even more so. No one was quite looking where they were going, so what began as simple buffeting, Rufus found himself separated from the large and protective frame of his father who had joined the frenzy with his own orders.  “I demand to know what is going on!” He shouted, but only captured a passing researcher who offered an incredibly unhelpful explanation as she frantically continued her way. It was then she nearly ran over Rufus completely.  Suddenly, something clicked as the woman glanced over at a flashing panel that apparently spoke of an imminent danger closing in on their current location. There was no time to think. Seizing Rufus by his upper arm, the researcher approached the glass enclosure, swiped her ID to release the lock on the door. With a jerk, she practically tossed the young heir into the enclosure with an unheard, but undoubtedly shouted apology as the door closed.  Tumbling to the ground, Rufus did not make the most graceful landing. But he quickly recovered, rising to a knee and holding his arm that had been tweaked by the rough handling.  “Hmph...”

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

“Wonderful. In that case then, I will leave him to your care, Heidegger.” As the President addressed his young son, the researcher turned instead to the other presence in the corridor. The robust man in a uniform was the Head of Public Security, a practical man however brutal in his policies.

“Hmph.” He gruffed. “Don’t expect me to go easy on him just because he’s your shiny new lab rat, Professor Hojo. If the kid doesn’t keep up with the others, I will not hesitate-”

“Sir, I’d be offended if you did.” Hojo cut him off dismissively, hands clasped behind his back while on his face plastered a bemused grin, lips pulling to draw a crescent-moon smirk on his face.

Out of the corner of the eye, he caught the small wave of the teenager towards the specimen in the other room. He couldn’t help but erupt into a short chuckle, however gentler his tone became upon addressing Shinra’s heir, there was still not-so-veiled contempt in his words.

“I wouldn’t bother, Mr. Shinra. There is a mirror on the other side. He cannot see you… Probably for the best.” And still, his curiosity was vaguely piqued. One hand had dislodged from his grip to stroke at the researcher’s chin ponderously, pungent eyes going back to Project S. “He hasn’t been exposed to any socialization, not with ones close to his age anyway… In his current conditions, the reaction would be rather unpredictable.”

Oh, if he could have it, he’d gladly throw the poor thing beside him into the ‘cage’ just to see what would happen. But alas, he knew far too well there was much to lose for the company, whether the President’s son would be met with hostility or friendliness. Damage to the company’s heir couldn’t be afforded, and neither would for his precious SOLDIER prototype to go.. soft. Such a whim would have to wait… and there were other specimen he could have Project S interact with, besides.

“Leave it to me. He’ll be broken into manners in a flash.” Heidegger concluded his promise with a sneer of his own, half-turning to encourage the proceeding of the tour. He was eager to move on to his own department, away from the uninteresting premises of the Research facility.

It was just as the adults turned away to walk, that on the other side, from where he sat still in his bed, the silver-haired young boy lifted his gaze to look over.

Not at his own reflection.

But in the exact direction where the youngest blond stood.

In those seas of jade that were his irids, the dark vertical slits swelled slightly, like a cat focusing on something interesting and appealing.

Or was it just an impression, a trick of the mind on both sides of the mirror?

On the surface, nothing in the world appeared to give the slightest inclination that Rufus was listening to anything or anyone around him. For how intently his trait-ShinRa blue eyes pierced into the glass and the ‘specimen’ beyond, one could very well assume he heard nothing of what the commanding authorities in the room were discussing.

Leave it to me, he will be broken in a flash.

It was the only statement Rufus needed to conclude his observation. Just because something resembled a human did not mean it was capable of being one. And for a time, Rufus was left to suspend his judgement on what exactly Project S was, given that the mass of information he was expected to memorize more clinically categorized the ‘specimen’ as a tool. And yet, the specimen not only had a gender, but could allegedly be broken.

What other thing in the world had a will to break? A beast? A monster?

Rufus lingered at the one-way glass window as the tug of social etiquette bade him to follow. Yet, just as he began to turn away, movement from within drew his eye. It was subtle, but Rufus’ keen eye caught it. And for a ghost of a moment, a thin smile slid on his features. But by the time he rejoined the entering, it faded into apathy once more.

“Rufus.” President ShinRa said to the boy at his side as the door sealing off the laboratory chamber opened to permit them through.

Rufus glanced up in acknowledgment.

“Every detail, not a single thing can slip. Now, pay attention.” The stout man said sternly, as though a thinly veiled reprimand for his son’s behavior earlier.

Rufus nodded.

Satisfied, President ShinRa stepped through into the laboratory chamber, followed shortly by Rufus. Then, he wagged a thick forefinger at Heidegger and Professor Hojo. “I want to see a return on my investment. Show my son the future of ShinRa.”

Future… It was a word the President used often. Whether he was marketing in campaigns or to Rufus himself to buy into the ShinRa package, heart and soul, it was a peculiar thing. Through the smog filled sky and dirty underbelly of the slums, one of which only grew like a pervading cancer day by day, the word ‘future’ held a very different connotation. But for the entirety of President ShinRa’s lifetime, his practices had established an empire, one whose throne he sat upon. Surely, it was a magnanimous thing to hand over the keys to the kingdom. But until they were his, it meant nothing.

For now, Rufus’ sights were set on the specimen once more. Positioning himself deliberately beside his father’s obese figure to obscure the line of sight between himself and Professor Hojo, Rufus committed to satiating his own curiosity.

This time, he tilted his head a bit dramatically to the side, intrigued as to what it might elicit.

[thronelessprince]

ghostofnibelheim​:

[Four Seasons] In the Cage of Crystal and Greed

Closed Starter for the “Four Seasons” Divergent Megaverse!

Of how Project “S” (now named “Sephiroth”) and Rufus Shinra first met.

Involved Characters: Sephiroth, 11-12yo ( @ghostofnibelheim​ ), Rufus ShinRa, 15yo ( @thronelessprince​​ )

References: Before Crisis -Final Fantasy VII-

Settings: Midgar, September εγλ 1992

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The sound of the solution dripping from the IV bag beside the bed and into the tube that latched on the back of his hand. It was the only way the boy could tell that time existed in this room.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Too faint to hear through the plastic equipment for most, but not for him. In here, this place with no color that smelled of antiseptic, it was all he could pay attention to. It drilled into his mind, and deafened the only coherent thought he could make.

‘I want to go home.’

Where was home, however? Why did the boy so fiercely believe he wasn’t there already, when his mind drew a total blank about anything prior his awakening on the surgical table?

This place, it was not home.

He didn’t want to be here, but he didn’t know where else to go, either. How convenient for whoever had put him in this foreign room where it felt neither warm nor cold.

Day and night, he sat in bed, and waited. Waiting for something to come to his memory, or for someone to come through the door. He knew he couldn’t open it himself. The ‘Doctors’ made sure to lock it every time. A heavy latch of steel bit fiercely through the door with the command of little plastic cards that they passed before a strange small box attached to the wall right next to it.

He hadn’t tried to ask to go out. In truth, he didn’t really want to talk to any of them. The boy didn’t know anybody here, and he could see the way they looked at him: like something that didn’t belong. Emotions he didn’t know what to name were plain in their faces whenever they came through to approach his bedside. They seemed more at ease when fiddling with the wires and equipment beeping and buzzing beside him, than the boy they were latched onto.

Maybe he was a machine, too. Was this how a machine was supposed to feel? It wasn’t like the IV could tell him anything about it.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

That’s all it said.

He wanted to go home, but how could he find it? This place seemed to be a closed box and torn from all existence. The only thing remotely close to a window was the long mirror on the same wall as the door. Any look the boy would cast to it would be met by an identical one with the same forlorn, empty-eyed expression.

Little did he know, more than one pair of eyes were gazing right back at him at that very moment.

~~

“There he is, Mr. President. Still alive and in top form, just as I told you. We transferred him last week.” Hojo had a smug grin on his face as he spoke. He was in a good mood today, even enough for his usually slouch and crooked posture to be a bit straighter, making him taller beside his most important investor.

“He may look a little frail at a first glance, but do not let appearances deceive you. He has yet to hit puberty, besides… But he underwent the mako infusion procedure like it was second nature. Almost no side-effects. A light amnesia, but his procedural memory was not affected in the slightest. He should be ready for performance tests very soon.”

A lot was at stake here. And while the man was still disappointed by the lack of Cetra-like talents in the boy, the prospective of the so-called SOLDIER program interested him. His acquired position at the head of the Science and Research Department left vacant by Gast Faremis was on the line… and he knew he still had competition.

If he could impress the President before the mess of theories Hollander was toying with back in Mideel bore any good fruit, the seat and all the benefits that came with it would remain as his.

And what a promising specimen this one was.

Today was an important day, at least, so Rufus had been told. Dressed in his manicured white suit that cost more than some people’s houses, the all-important tour of ShinRa Electric Company’s facilities was the one and only agenda for the day. His private lessons were on hold, and his designated socializing hours with ‘proper’ associates, once more, had been rescheduled. But Rufus figured that as ShinRa’s power amassed, the fewer and fewer of these associates would make his father’s cut. In the least President ShinRa had stopped talking about marital arrangements for the time being. No young woman had even half the merits the president needed to even consider opening the kingdom doors of ShinRa, let alone the keys.

And the truth was, no one ever would.

It was a fact. As they toured, meeting with his department head and his overly grand promises for his accomplishments for ShinRa, and that team lead that spoke much the same note, it became painfully obvious. Rufus’ closet things to acquaintances were grown adults kissing up to their future boss in hopes of securing their future. But when they spoke to him, he said nothing. When they looked at him, he stared, bearing into them unfettered, icy depths of apathy.

If they were so frightened about their job security, they clearly were not good enough to work for ShinRa. They said nothing important, nothing even mildly interesting. All the same, Rufus listened, and memorized each face, every word, every bead of sweat that rolled down the collars of their suits.

Then, they were in the labs, separated from a specimen through a thick veil of glass. Rufus peered into the room as his father spoke to this department lead—Professor Hojo. This man was a bit different from the others. He spoke plainly. And there was more to his eagerness than merely keeping a steady job. Glancing at the man in the white coat through the corner of his eye, Rufus acknowledged that the scientist was hungry. And it made him equal parts useful, and dangerous.

President ShinRa’s large hand collapsed over and around Rufus’ shoulder, a silent command for his attention. Obediently, Rufus looked up.

“So long as he can meet expectations, he’s valuable to me.” The president stated gruffly, the corner of his mustache tweaking in a gnarled smile that looked closer to one baring their teeth than it was friendly. “Only valuable things are worth keeping around Rufus.” He wagged a large finger at his son, as though it were a threat. “Everything else is a waste of time and money.”

Rufus blinked towards Professor Hojo. So, this one was a machine, and the product he produced was valuable, at least by his father’s standards. It was immediately something of intrigue, drawing the blonde’s interest back to the glass. This time, his father allowed him, now that it was proper for him to survey the ‘goods’.

The ‘good’ looked like a boy. The boy beyond the glass was younger than he was, thinner, and when their eyes met, it was a void. Rufus blinked, slow, calculating. And then, when he was certain that his father was busy probing the professor more on specific timelines for ‘when’ this testing could begin, the blonde did the only sensible, deliberate thing he could.

He waved.

[thronelessprince]

"You're staring like you've never seen a demon before."

|| Terrible First Meetings Status: Open “You could say that.” He paused to wipe the smear of blood off his face. It reeked. “You could also say I am... surprised.”  Whatever the things were that had attacked him were unlike any monsters Rufus had seen before. As such, they had caught him off guard. Blinking slowly, the blonde regained himself.  “...I suppose I am to owe you a favor now?”

[thronelessprince]

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me for an hour?”

|| Terrible First Meeting Meme Status: Open “No.” He replied simply. Not one he was going to reveal in any case.  “It is a popular area. Perhaps you are merely paranoid. Is it that there is a reason that you would expect to be followed?”