Final Fantasy VII Roleplay

Ambition, loyalty, and misguided dreams

[kiigan]

ㅤOne might have called it exaggerated. Too much. Too dramatic of course it was, he was an Uchiha. One might have said that Genesis was already down, no need to humiliate him with such a powerful move, no need to waste chakra when a blade to the throat would convey the exact same message; you are in no position to bargain, much less move. But that was why Itachi did it - because, had the roles been reversed, he would have felt much more insulted if he had been taken lightly. Even if he was in a disadvantageous situation. He respected Genesis as a rival and as an equal, hence never underestimating him - let alone in front of the commander's men.

ㅤIt went to the point of Itachi's gaze not deviating from Genesis even when the small commotion arose; he would have much rather preferred that no one else had to die for unnecessary reasons, but the peripheral vision provided by his clones was enough to keep matters under control and, at the moment, that was what mattered most. If a man willingly chose to die for a cause they believed in, would it even be fair of him to deny them that? Not much chance to ponder on existencial conundrums mid-battle, not when the gleam in Genesis' piercing eyes indicated he'd reached a decision.

Release my men.

ㅤThe commander's voice seemed to blend with the crackling of the black flames in a manner that was almost poetic. Itachi's gaze followed the shift in position, the soft thud of knees hitting dirty ground, the symbolic offering of the mangled sword. It earned his rival a few more respect points, that he was willing to choose noble sacrifice over burning pride; no pun intended. Immediately, in response, the clones stepped back - still alert and ready to react should it be needed, but allowing the hostages and the remaining guards room to walk away. In an ideal world, Itachi would return home with all of them and pile them up in front of Lord Godo, but... he wasn't that kind of man. Well, boy. Had never been and would never be. Victory at any cost would never trample human decency.

«Please, don't resist.»

ㅤAgain, no need for injuries more than strictly necessary. The flames remained but dimmed and receded a little, enough to allow Itachi to enter that circle of fire. Enough so that he could take one of Genesis' arms, as gently as an enemy would ever handle another, pull him back up on his feet, turn him around and catch his arms firmly at his back to be tied up. Simple rope, yes, none of Shinra's fancy high-tech handcuffs for example, but only a fool would think it easy to break out of. Chakra-infused rope, which would chaff through a prisoner's skin if only as much they struggled too hard.

ㅤ«Take the chance to give your men whatever last instructions you'd like. Keeping in mind that one false move will result in the flames taking all of you, no exception.»

[unforestalledreturn]

Numbly, Genesis rose as he was hoisted by the arm, his mind lagging far behind the clarity of his heart. He was quiet as his rival leashed his hands behind him. He remained so, even when he was bidden to speak. Not until what had been a quieter prisoner up until this point spoke, air practically crackling with the thunder affinity he bore. "Comma-- Genesis." He plead, tone assertive, but not without empathy. In fact, it was every bit ready to crack as the rest of them. Genesis could not have asked for a finer second in command. Quite easily, in fact, Kunsel could have been a First Class SOLDIER by now, but he always did elect to downplay his skillsets, work behind the scenes, support at those critical junctures. As such, he easily was overlooked, that unsung hero. "Congratulations, Kunsel." Genesis spoke evenly, meeting his second's grim, but knowing gaze. "Your first mission on your promotion to SOLDIER First Class is to take care of them for me." The prisoners of Team Bravo flinched at the shift in leadership, some baffled, others poorly masking their need to retaliate, to defend their commander. With a single glance, Kunsel quashed their would-be insurrection. He understood his assignment, Genesis' priorities. Both the hostages and those he would be leaving behind at home; an enormous weight, but Kunsel had broad shoulders.

"Sir." He affirmed, stepping through the retreat of the clones which had once held them at bay with a boldness that brought the men now under his care to follow suit. Into the jungle, the hostages were swallowed up. When the last of their bootfall left the range of his over-tuned senses, Genesis quietly exhaled. Now, it was just him, the dead, and those that wished he was dead. But as far as the crimson commander was concerned, he was dead. ShinRa was unlikely to eat the bad publicity that a disastrous hostage exchange, although that was only the surface of it. Call it a hunch, but Genesis always did feel a bit more expendable than the other Firsts. True to his word, however, whensoever Itachi decided to move, he did so without resistance, but also without a word.

There was nothing meaningful left to say.

[kiigan]

The word chaos couldn't begin to describe what ensued.

ㅤBeing so focused in the flow of his chakra, completely attuned to it as it poured into his eyes and then was released in the form of that nasty status-changing attack, Itachi had pretty much disconnected from the surrounding world for a few long seconds. Only he and the wyrm existed. And, even after the mighty foe fell, it took him a while longer still to properly get his bearings. Itachi, as a warrior, carried very few weak spots to exploit - but one of them was blatant, and it was his rather modest chakra pool. Performing a succession of two or three high-level attacks such as Tsukuyomi was enough to leave him exhausted. Proof of it showed in the large tear of blood now running down his right eye and in the way his vision was suddenly swimming, his temples suddenly throbbing.

No time to catch his breath, though - lives literally depended on him.

ㅤStarting with the obvious choice, he immediately rushed back to his brother's side and only allowed himself to feel relieved after making sure Sasuke had sustained no further damage, amidst that commotion. Some of the Shinra troopers had not been so fortunate, however... and one of the hostages was effectively reduced to chunks of charred flesh on the ground, likely having been hit dead-on by one of the lightening bolts. No time for mourning, there never was. Simply saying a quick prayer in his mind for these lost lives, Itachi freed Sasuke from his confines and called forth yet another clone, to help with gathering whoever was still of this world.

ㅤNow for the next important step... go check on Genesis, who had been suspiciously immobile for a while now. Like a bag of old rags tossed carelessly around. Kneeling by the man's side, Itachi checked his pulse and was not ashamed to admit he was glad to find one. For his sworn rival to have gone out like this, that would have been all too wrong and all too undignified. This was an unexpected turn of events, however... he'd been sent to deliver hostages, yet now the chance arose to return home with an extra one - a very valuable one. How the tables turn and how the roles flip. If Itachi believed in fate, he might have said the gods wanted him to experience the same ethical dilemma Genesis himself had gone through when capturing Sasuke. But what's a Whisper to a non-believer?

Long story short, it was never up to them. They did what they had to do.

ㅤWith his mangekyou sharingan still active, it was easy for Itachi to jump out of the way as Genesis nearly bounced back up on his feet, though severely lacking in grace. He himself might be drained and slightly lightheaded after the unplanned battle, but clearly his opponent was faring a lot worse. Out of well-earned respect, because underestimating Genesis even at this state would have been an insult to the man, Itachi pulled his katana out of the sheath as well and placed himself in between Genesis and literally everyone else who was still alive. The clones had easily herded them in the center of what had been the tent, hostages and troopers alike. The only possible new plot twist might come in the form of the helicopter that could already be heard growing dangerously near.

No time for long negotiations. Do not underestimate; fight fire with fire.

«You will be coming with me, Commander Rhapsodos.»

ㅤIt was not an offer, despite Itachi's deceptively calm tone. It was not up for debate, either, and he was about to make that very clear. Certain that the small crowd was gathered behind him and would not be accidentally caught, his chakra rushed back to his eyes and, this time, materialized in raging black flames that encircled Genesis almost entirely - save for the spot where Itachi himself was standing, right in front of him. The flames weren't close enough to burn, but were surely close enough to make the surge of heat very uncomfortable; it wasn't about harming, it was about sending the message.

ㅤ«And we can make it more or less severe on your physical integrity. The choice is yours.» Another tear of blood drizzling down, this time from Itachi's left eye, leaving twin crimson trails on his usually pale cheeks. A young shinobi fighting dearly to defend his people and his land or an actual demon, depending on the onlooker.

[unforestalledreturn]

It never did seem that the odds were ever willing to play in the crimson commander's favor. Call it fate, call it imperfection, call it bad luck, it did not matter. It all amounted to the same thing; failure. And if it was a message Uchiha Itachi wished to send, to be encircled by the dance of the only flames Genesis had never come even close to taming, it was a message received. It was a dagger to his pride, and the sharpness penetrated deeper. And for a sickening silence, there was a weight in the air that bore down like a guillotine on execution day. But it was more than the situation's gravitas -- it was a thickening in the weave of aether that flowed around them, the sudden draw pulling like a riptide towards Genesis, his teal earring glowing white hot. Even such a precious focal point could not keep up with the sudden draw. The only place he would go was hell, and Genesis would take them all there with him. Nothing would remain but crater and ash. Eyes locked with Itachi's own, Genesis snarled, teeth born, an oozing hatred that burnt and choked. Not enough. It wasn't enough. But just as the redhead took in a sharp inhale, a yelp pierced above the anxious crowd, a ring of prong-tipped spear wielding guards physically kicking a hostage back who evidently had tried to break line to rush towards Genesis. "Commander!" ... Team Bravo and their damned undying loyalty. As far as ShinRa was concerned, if this entire place was erased beneath a sea of cinder and took the famed Uchiha prodigy with it, what was a handful of SOLDIERs to pay? With clarity finally piercing through the blood-rage haze, Genesis did something he vowed he'd rather slit his own throat than do. Slowly, he descended to a knee, and then another. An unusual sight if one only knew of Midgardian customs, but Genesis had studied his enemy well. With exactness, he placed what remained of his blade down, hilt facing Itachi. An honorable surrender for an honorable demand. "Release my men." Then, he gestured for Itachi to take the proffered hilt of the shattered blade.

[serafim]

Extended fingers and his breath held to match the passing seconds– only to escape in a quiet snort of amusement as Genesis insists on pushing his companion out of the frame.

Moment over, then.

Neither man is quite the type to approach such matters and acknowledge them for what they are. That would imply crossing a professional boundary, and in such a cold, corporate setting where fraternization is frowned upon (but quietly encouraged when nurtured for the “right” reasons), they ought to behave as is befitting their positions.

One rationale, scaled and stretched as appropriate to fit the occasion. Discretion is one of the few protections the elite SOLDIERs may keep when it is the nature of their employers to capitalize upon secrets.

“Mm,” Sephiroth hums, undisturbed and having recently completed an entire analysis in the short span of silence without having said a word.

“That would be appreciated.” 

Rising from his seat, Sephiroth relocates a few escaped sheets of paper to some cover of a book that won’t threaten to trample or wrinkle them further. They have a scant few minutes left before the third member of their troupe rises for the day. Whether Genesis would like to keep his pursuits private or not is entirely up to him. 

“Do we pretend there isn’t a dragon’s hoard of books and notes in the center of the room?” 

[unforestalledreturn]

The hair at the nape of Genesis' neck prickled as the weight of his companion lifted, the distinct heat and motion of his form moving what felt too far already. He swallowed down the resurgence of fire and fear that had kept him up at those ungodly hours. No pain nor cinder was too much an ask to recapture that feeling. Sephiroth's comment elicited a soft, amused exhale, a smoldering blue eye offered. Look, how delicately those crinkled pages were handled, as though they were anything more the vain graspings of a man into the unknown. But he knew why Sephiroth treated them so. How thoughtful -- how frightening. Having offered a coffee, Genesis was at loathe to go back on his word, but more so scared to death to linger there even a moment longer. The feeling in him would expand, relentless, and with nowhere to go. And once gone, there wasn't putting it back or pretending that it did not exist. If either of them knew, how painfully he burned, would it disgust them? He rocked his body forward, rose, body reluctant to endure. "A hoard.. hnn?" Near-silent steps padded to stand in front of Sephiroth, gently easing the paper into his care. At first, his eyes were set down, the inky scribbles warning him. Then, his gaze drifted around Sephiroth, to the 'hoard' and empty mug which brought the taste of warm tea to his tongue all over again. Finally, Genesis looked up. "No amount of play pretend can change it from its nature." It was spoken softly, almost fervent, given how tight his tone became at the end. Genesis then smiled, but it faded quickly, he himself unconvinced. "A little late for that..." This was a whisper, one of surrender. A helpless shrug, and then a turn, breaking away from those eyes... Genesis padded to the kitchen, but over his shoulder, he gave his final determination on the matter. "So long as it is all in once place, I can endure whatever consequence." A promise, to his treasures.

[kiigan]

True.  It was never up to them, was it? 

ㅤCommanders they might both be, in their own way and by their own right, yet they were no more than puppets dancing along the strings at the end of the day. Which was only one of the many reasons why Itachi would have liked to meet Genesis with a cup of tea in hand rather than a blade, at a nice library instead of a scorched battlefield - ask him what his favorite flavor was, if he was religious or not really, if he had an interest in matters such as astronomy and archaeology. If he agreed with this war or if, instead, he also wished matters could be settled differently.

It was not up to them; not now and not ever.

ㅤWith his very keen sense of hearing catching the semblance of a little crackle vibrating throughout the air, the Uchiha made himself leave childlike wishful thinking behind and bring his attention back to the other man's figure. Likely, that barely-there noise indicated that Genesis had just received a message through some sort of communication device; a staple of Shinra troops, really. Wutai wasn't exactly on top of the most recent and groundbreaking technology, quite the contrary - they were traditional in many aspects and they lived by communing with the planet and gratefully accepting the resources She was willing to give, rather than to suck Her dry by means of countless reactors in the name of progress. And yet, like everything in life, this philosophy had its pros and its cons - one very blatant con was exactly this one. Compared to the wondrous inventions of the Shinra Electric Power Company and their warfare prowess, sometimes they looked more like kids fighting with sticks and stones.

Which made the occasional victories all the more satisfying, Itachi must admit. The savages attempting to bring down a goliath.

ㅤJust as Itachi was about to insist they moved on with the farce, however, because at this point he was physically aching to catch his brother in a tight hug and never let go again for the next week or two, there it was again. The reminder that, indeed, it was never up to them. Not even close. The powers that be would do whatever they saw fit and, as much as he appreciated her, Itachi did make a mental note to complain to Leviathan later. Heavens above, give me one moment when things actually go according to what I had planned. Just one.

ㅤAt this point, after so many clashes and confrontations, the Uchiha was quite proficient at reading his sort-of unofficial rival's body language - the instant he noticed Genesis' demeanor change so abruptly and his figure tensing up as though he was a string in a bow that'd just been tightened, he had no doubt it had to be serious. Genesis wasn't one to be impressed by just any opponent. And, again, the timing couldn't have been more atrocious because it left Itachi split between heart and duty - much as he wanted to, he couldn't just go plant himself in front of Sasuke to be his shield and forget about the role that had brought him here. Imagine he did just that, and then all the hostages took the chance to run away easily.

«I see Shinra is making friends with the local fauna, as usual.»

ㅤThere was always time for a sassy remark, nonetheless. Especially because he had no doubt this creature was only striking back out of instinct, to reclaim territory that had been invaded. Ethical debates about ecology could wait for later, though. With a nod at Genesis' command, Itachi quickly flew through a few hand seals and activated his doppelgänger ability. Four clones promptly poofed out of thin air and got to work - one went to secure Sasuke and keep him safe, the other three went to do the same to the hostages. As for Itachi himself, he swiftly moved over to Genesis' side in order to help; fateful enemies or not, the wyrm would gladly fry them all without asking questions nor for political alignments. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him everyone was properly gathered already, and that's what they needed.

Now, to deal with the actual threat. 

ㅤIf he wanted to go for a more peaceful approach, he could join Genesis and directly help him to strengthen the barrier, and then it might be just a matter of waiting till the fiend got either too tired or too bored and eventually left them alone. With Sasuke's safety thrown into the equation, however, Itachi wasn't shy to admit he was incredibly biased. No way he was going to take risks, even if it came at the expense of attacking a poor creature who, for all intents and purposes, was the victim in this situation. So be it. Focusing his chakra for a moment, he then channeled it to his eyes and had the spinning tomoes of his sharingan merge at the center in a three-pronged pinwheel shape. Thankfully, in its angry haste, making eye contact with the wyrm was not difficult at all - and, as soon as it happened, in the matter of two seconds at most, the huge creature shrieked and eventually dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks, hitting the barrier one last time in passing. Now afflicted by a nasty combination of confusion, berserk, sleep, poison, darkness, and silence status effects, which rendered it pretty much useless.

Thank Da-chao, creatures of the wild had yet to figure out of the usefulness of cute, unassuming ribbons.

[unforestalledreturn]

Waves of heat pulsated from the furious barrier casting a searing dome of protection about the treaty-grounds. It stretched exceedingly wide, encompassing wheresoever Genesis heard the thrum of elevated heartbeats. But it was folly, magic spread too thin. The first strike, Genesis manipulated, drew to the center where he stood so that he could meet its deadly force with the peak of his unyielding barrier. But as it swept through, a second, and third strike, the thinner parts bled through. Violent light flashed and broke earth, tore tents and bodies. Disaster, albeit mitigated. As his sworn enemy drew friend and foe from the dangerous, outer circles, Genesis was freed to redouble his efforts in the reduced area, although even that sphere receded tighter and tighter, frightened diplomats cowering behind their guards backing from their shrinking space of safety. [zzht.. ander. Commander Rhapsodos?] [..Turks... extracting host--es. Secure--] The wyrm circled overhead, enraged ever still. And, truly, it was a moment of surreality when its serpentine body twisted in the air to set itself once more on the path of vengeance, the air crackling in its heightened state. Genesis felt his heart drop like a rock to the bottom of his stomach. He knew he could not deflect or redirect another blow, even in this reduced area to protect. Maybe, if he was stronger. Maybe, if he was more keen, more attuned.. Maybe, if he was Sephiroth. But Genesis wasn't. His gloves creaked as he steeled himself, fueling the fire-wreathed barrier with his fear. Seconds drew on in what felt agonizing minutes, each wing beat an eternity when.. Genesis noticed its behavior had abruptly changed. As though ensnared by something mid-air, the wyrm rapidly lost height, lightning spewing madly. Its bellowing roar was one of anguish. Then, it crashed against the barrier that while was indeed robust, had not been designed for such a physical force. Bright cracks struck through the dome, mirrored by that of Genesis' blade that glowed white-hot and angry. Barrier and sword alike shattered, the shrapnel shredding through his upper and lower body. It was pure chaos as the wyrm's body careened and crashed into the jungle. Smoke and screams in foreign and native tongues dominated Genesis' senses. The pulsating hum of a nearby helicopter betrayed the Turk's arrival, or perhaps departure, he could not say. Someone was shouting in his ear, but he couldn't understand it. So he dug out his earpiece and threw it aside. When the dust settled, and the scene began to calm, Genesis realized he was... not among friendly faces. By instinct, he rose the shattered hilt of his blade in challenge to any of the Wutain men who fancied a dance with death. Not that he looked all too far from it, given his grisly injuries and teetering balance. Given time, he would regenerate. Not that he had any here, surrounded by sharks.

[yukarelinquere]

Starter call! I will be reblogging this across the blogs I am accepting interactions with!

Open to: everyone! (Not mutuals exclusive!)

Length/Style: 2-3 paragraphs

18+

Make sure to like this post ON THE BLOG YOU WANT TO INTERACT WITH !!

@unforestalledreturn Genesis Rhapsodos from FF7

@dunes-and-dust Gale (OC) from Trigun, Robert De Niro from Trigun Stampede

@taoreshi Piers from Pokémon, Tyki Mikk from D. Gray Man, Kento Nanami from Jujutsu Kaisen, Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang from MO Dao Zu Shi, Xie Lian, Shi Qingxuan, Hua Cheng, Ling Wen from Heaven's Official Blessing.

[kiigan]

ㅤSongs and tales would weave poetry about this in the far future, was what a frighteningly large number of people in power seemed to believe about war. That it was a heroic effort, the most wholesome display of patriotism, a necessary evil to secure land and borders and dignity and influence. Yet, funnily enough... every time he would glance around, all Itachi could see was fields that used to be vast farmlands reduced to scorched earth. Forts that used to offer refuge to travelers reduced to collapsed walls and doors knocked off hinges and filled with bullet holes. Children that used to run happily to school reduced to orphans crying silently behind piles of rubble. His father's and Lord Godo's faces growing wearier by the day, sprouting wrinkles and gray hairs from sheer stress alone. Melphie and Shisui gone from cherished, loving friends to corpses rotting in a grave. Who knew... maybe he was the odd one out. Maybe he was the only one who failed to see what was so glorious about war.

ㅤMusings that served no purpose at the moment, anyway, other than to be an excuse. To pull his mind away from the horrific reality that was knowing his little brother was presently no more than a convenient exchange coin - anything was better than to think about that, even reminiscing about the horrors of this conflict that had been dragging for far too long and showed no foreseeable end any time soon. But he shouldn't, he couldn't, and he knew that he couldn't. Far too much rested on his slim shoulders and on his capacity to remain absolutely focused on every single detail, including Sasuke's own well-being. Not to mention, imagine if he was to be caught spacing out by one of the operatives in his team. Captain Rubrum, being anything less than perfect? Unheard of. He'd never have face again to chastise them whenever they were slacking off and that was just unacceptable.

ㅤTrying to fight off the autopilot, then, that night-irresistible pull to dissociate and allow his mind to be anywhere but in the present moment, be anybody but himself, Itachi instead focused on his breaths. Inhale, exhale, rinse and repeat. Focused on the cadence of his steps, one-after-the-other one-after-the-other, light and near silent as usual, only one of the reasons why a vast majority of the Shinra troopers had taken to refer to him as 'a ghost' or 'a demon'. In all honesty, he might be about to prove right this last nickname, depending on the state he was to find Sasuke in. But, yes... focus on the mission. On the breaths, on the steps. On guiding the small line of hostages into the tent, before venturing in himself.

ㅤAnd who would be there to greet them? None other than Genesis Rhapsodos - which did not completely surprise Itachi. A top-tier SOLDIER was to be expected and the decision likely wasn't a hard one to make. From what he'd learned so far from their numerous clashes, Angeal was not one to ever agree to stoop so low. Honor meant far too much to that man, at times to his own detriment. And Sephiroth was the hero of the people, of course. You don't just send the hero of the people to go wilt in a stuffy tent at midday in the middle of nowhere while baby-sitting a grumpy child - that would ruin his flawless hair, if nothing else. In a way, as he walked further in and took his place at the front of the prisoners, the Uchiha had to wonder about Genesis' feelings on the matter. The two of them were not friends, by any stretch of the imagination, but they'd met in the battlefield often enough at this point to have built a sort of... healthy respect for each other. Perhaps a bit of admiration, here and there. A bit of wondering if matters could ever have been different, were they allowed the chance to meet as something other than fateful enemies.

ㅤ«Genesis,» the greeting was as dry as the soil underneath the soles of their boots, though not completely hostile. If nothing else, because Itachi's heart had just been assuaged in seeing that his brother, at least apparently, was well enough. Surely scarred inside and looking in desperate need of a long bath and an even longer nap, but no visible signs of injuries. Still, given the emotional response, it was impossible to keep his sharingan from activating on its own - the dark pools of his eyes shifting to a sea of crimson as the tomoes swirled into view. «I would appreciate if we can make this brief.»

[unforestalledreturn]

Gentle was not a word killers described themselves with. It was soft, warm, a quality that had died in the trenches with good men. And, in truth, something in Genesis, a better party laid in the ashes beside them. But unlike the dead, he did not rest. He persisted. Reborn from the ashes, most would think a phoenix equivalent would rise with beauty, returned restored. Instead, the dead parts came back twisted, healed all wrong. There was a mark on his soul that would eat him from the inside out. "Uchiha." Genesis returned with a tone smooth, but cold, a bit forcefully so. His demeanor spoke of a stiffness, as though ever fiber of his being was struggling to smother the raging inferno that persisted within. So tightly wound, as usual. "As if it were ever up to you or I." The crimson commander indicated with his head towards the tent where the video conference concluded, representatives from either faction making their exit. His earpiece crackled to life. [Commander Rhapsodos, you are clear to proceed with the exchange.] Cloudy blue eyes never once left his rival's, knowing full well of what the activation of the sharingan meant. Uchiha almost literally wore their heart on their sleeve. at least the ones with this unique gift. It made his chest simultaneously warm and wince in pain. Such undying devotion to a beloved was something that spoke innately to Genesis. The inner workings of his very being was fueled by it, drew him again and again from the ashes, through the pain-- And yet, here he was, the very being that had stolen that precious thing. Genesis hated himself for it. It did not matter that the Uchiha was an enemy. But he would do it again, without hesitation, if to spare those he cherished the misery. "The exchange begins. Your brother will be released when the last SOLDIER..." Genesis stopped abruptly, the hairs standing on the back of his head. His eyes left his foe, flickering across the canopy for something that made his heightened senses churn. Something was coming-- he could feel it in the way a tide ripped from the shore before the storm tore through the land, how the aether that surrounded them drained. It was big. A glow hummed from his teal earring as Genesis channeled, flaming sword practically emerging from the flames from his palm. Then, it came; down from the heavens, a torrent of lightning that spewed like liquid from the maw of what would shortly be identified as a wyrm. There was no time to think, this indiscriminate volley aimed to carpet the noisy intruder's that had enraged it with their electrical equipment. So, Genesis thrust his blade into the ground, a beam from the hilt of his sword striking the sky. And where it met the lightning, a field surrounding the encampment emerged; a barrier. Only, even as prolific a mage as Genesis could only maintain such a size for so long. Glove groaning under the grip of his hilt, his eyes flared up to the Uchiha. "Gather them. Quickly." Already he could feel his stomach churn as the infuriated wyrm loosed another volley, even going as far as to thrash itself upon the barrier.

[unforestalledreturn]

A starter for @kiigan (thanks for waiting!)

He had come, a thief in the night, no title or fanfare to harken his coming nor to leave in his wake. Already, the glory of the silver demon of Wutai was foreordained to eclipse him, try as he might to challenge it. He had come, slipping beyond enemy lines and into the heart of Wutai, where no one would come if he had been caught, but no one suspected it either. Afterall, there was no man in their right mind that would willingly steal an innocent child in the stronghold of their enemy. But Genesis had done just that. Of the touted Uchiha clan whose members had been a thorn in his side, he had taken a fledging from the nest, Sasuke, by name.

It gave Genesis no pleasure, but such decisions were not his to make. The Director of SOLDIER was a shrewd man, and knew an opportunity when he saw it, and he knew that Genesis had all the reason to follow through. Prisoners of war was a political hot topic which ShinRa felt immense pressure. By taking an esteemed hostage, the Director was able to leverage a deal, Uchiha Sasuke in return for an intel operations squad on Team Bravo; Genesis' men. Negotiations, however, were expected to draw out. Wutai was enraged by such a low and dirty blow, and their pride was wounded. And now, here at the afixed neutral ground, officials were in deep discussion in a massive tent, the heat of the muggy day sapping strength from all who were stationed, native and invading forces alike.

Only Genesis stood impervious to the relentless heat. A good day for negotiations, purposeful, considering his limitations. As a fabled pyromancer whose innate magic set him to be something of a wonder, having such intrigal tangling had consequences. It gave a whole other meaning to 'fair weather soldier'.

Glancing down at his bound prisoner, Genesis frowned. The kid was wilting, even in his facade of stoicism, eyes puffy and raw from the whole ordeal. Maybr, if it had been any other prisoner, another kid, even, Genesis would not have felt the pity and discontent he did now. But naturally, this one had to be the younger brother of his greatest rival on the field. Uchiha, Itachi. Armed with the divine patron Leviathin's favor and a host of versatile technique that even now Genesis pined to reproduce, a certain respect had been generated for his foe. Stealing his brother just looked like an overcompensation.

And Genesis hated that. He hated the thought that his rival would likely consider this underhanded tactic as something personal, something... something... truly telling of an inferior being. Something he refused to be.

"You, drink this." Genesis ordered the boy in his native tongue, taking a knee and bringing his canteen to the other's lips. When Sasuke expectedly refused, Genesis chastised him. "Your brother will be arriving here shortly with the hostages. Be my guest if you want to be looking like a mess."

The threat, while faux, was trickery enough for him to tilt back his head and gulp down a hefty share of liquid, excess driveling into the dirt below.

[everythingfox]

Sound on

[unforestalledreturn]

continued or merely contributed to this angsty brainworm that has been gnawing at me. Thanks @wingsdreamt for shoving my heart into the meat grinder.

It started as a fraying thread, here and there, tension pulled just a touch too tight. It was an unexpectedly sharp retort, it was an added lethargy that preceded and followed after every major activity. It was in the feverish nights desperate for an answer in dusty tombs that only his scared heart could answer.

Now, it was in the tatters of his beloved coat as it fell apart, the cracks of his skin that continuously chipped and disintegrated even at the lightest insult. And Fair was no pushover, even in Genesis' prime; and their most recent bout took out of the proud commander of Team Bravo what fight he had left. There was no longer a cause to burn over. Only cinders. Only ash. Maybe, all this degradation was his fault in the end. Faulty genes paired with refusal to do anything less than burn the candle at both ends... Truthfully, Fair had every right to kill him. But the damned fool still somehow had it in his head that there was anything that could be saved, that should be saved.

Little droplets pattered through the decrepit excuse for what was the barely standing shed, a place to keep firewood dry. But given the rot and smell of mildew, it had long lost its purpose. "..." Genesis did not so much as look over, at first, the returned dumbapple unnoticed, or perhaps ignored. Likely ignored, as the deeply satisfying crunch was difficult to miss. It seemed that neither of them had the strength to offer anything to such a contrived conversation to begin with. But when another droplet, and another filtered through, an ebon wing rose above their heads. It was the only part of him that wasn't crumbling, healthy, despite how dirty and uncared for it was. Like a parasite. "I won't need it... Zack." No amount of calories or sweet memories could save him. "If the difference between my living or dying was in the hands of a single dumbapple it--" Abruptly, Genesis choked on his words. He turned his head. "Keep it. Gift of the goddess, if you must. If you don't take care of yourself...well. " His wing curled, a defensive reflex. "You... will rot."

[breathofthearth]

@unforestalledreturn [x]

Chaos would be the right word to describe the fallout of what ensued. Midgar was no longer safe and even in the midst of all that was happening, Shinra still intended to keep the search on until Aerith was back in their ivory tower and the friends she had made in such a short time would be buried beneath the rubble.

Even from where she had stood, Aerith could see the multitude of souls being carried off until they were reunited with the Planet.

She heard their cries, their agonies, and closed her eyes and prayed that their pain would soon end before they were to return. It was the least she could do in the face of such tragedy and destruction.

Life outside Midgar proved to be no better, though it had been an experience to witness the sky without the steel plate overshadowing everything from above. Kalm was their next destination and she could feel an anxiousness spread through their small group to get to their next point in this grand journey.

The quicker the better.

As such, the distance between them and Midgar may have seemed great, but traces of Shinra were everywhere. For one, the obvious pipeline that cut through the landscape and made a certain point nothing more than a wasteland—a sure fire sign of letting everyone know where the borders between Midgar and the grasslands began.

Protected with its own wall, though more easier on the eyes, Kalm was a bustling city in its own right—but not as crowded and polluted as Midgar. Even topside, it was difficult to see the sky with the heavy smog of mako blanketing the city. Only when she had been within the Shinra tower did she get a glimpse of what the sky looked like.

It was beautiful, in its own haunting and eerie way, with that familiar phosphorescent green glow that was the lifeblood of the Planet.

The anonymity of remaining in Kalm had become a welcomed change as it would be only tomorrow that they would set off onto their next destination. With time to kill, despite being in a new place, Aerith found herself unwilling to leave the comforts of the common room.

The fireplace lit, the armchair comfortable, she was simply content to remain here, allowing herself to be lulled by the voices that took residence here. Despite the ease she felt, there always remained a sense of tension—to get up and leave at a moment's notice in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

Kalm or not, these walls could not keep out Shinra's army if the company decided to send a fleet after them.

The thought of being followed, and by an army no less, began to put Aerith on edge as she considered that perhaps finding a more low-key place would be best—even if she was always one to live life to the fullest. Living one's best life did not include being captured by an organization that meant to see her locked in a giant tube and examined like a relic.

For the most part, no one here seemed to pay her much mind and Aerith felt a small wave of relief come over her. For now, at least.

Conversations about Platefall, Sephiroth, Nibelheim, were picked up on and Aerith could spot that one individual meant to start something he could finish. She recognized that emblem on his uniform and, for a moment, she could feel her heart skip a beat.

Rushing over, though as to not make it too obvious, she gets in between him and where he intends to go, hopefully preventing something from happening.

"You do, huh? I guess I have that kind of face where I look like somebody."

Her gaze flickers down to the SOLDIER emblem before meeting his own. She gives a strained smile, forcing herself not to jump right into asking questions.

"Hmm...well, I never really got out much, so maybe topside in Sector 8? The church in Sector 5?"

It is an effort on her part to keep the questions she wants to ask about Zack under wraps.

And then, it clicks.

She doesn't think he's Angeal, though she never actually saw him, and certainly not Sephiroth.

Which left only one other...

"...Genesis," she says his name but does so that only he can hear in this room full of people.

[unforestalledreturn]

There was nothing left in Midgar for Genesis to miss. One did not mourn the cicada's hollow shell on a tree. Four walls and a roof did not make a home, but maybe it was the anger that burned in the hearth of Genesis' chest when a fallen friend's name was drug through the mire. These men knew nothing. And the worn pyromancer was eager to make poetry, to reduce them to all the worth that they collectively had. But such violence was forestalled. Even if to no one else, the notion of familiarity was a fetid carcass, and he, the wretched insect. Genesis could not refuse the wallowing stench and putrid remains of what had failed to break free of the molt and fly. He clung to every corpse. And this woman was no different. He had seen her before. Not in some significant way, but all those ways were dead. But not immemorable. "Ha..." He puffed a short, dry laugh. Sector 5... The church. "Flower for a gil..." The recollection was almost sweet. It wasn't. "The Director sent me, once. His mother passed, he wanted flowers. Real, flowers." Brief, a simple exchange, payment rendered, goods received. Every now and then, there was a passing notion of that girl in the street, selling flowers. But then his eyes narrowed, body recoiling as though some profane and bitter thing had been uttered. A gloved hand smoothly, coldly reached towards Aerith's face, brushing the bouncing curl of her bang back and tucked it nicely behind her ear. To anyone on the outside, it was a flirtation, the smile he wore an advance. But his words lacked any such warmth. Quietly, just for the two of them, he muttered, "If you wish to keep your tongue, I advise you quiet it."

[lordsecondsenju]

Tobirama hated seeing his own men dead, even if it was a painful reminder of the oath they had sworn. An oath of promise to sacrifice what was necessary for the cause. But the rage that filled him among spotting enemies hidden in the trees. And he began to draw fire. An obviously higher ranking SOLDIER than the ones currently on the ground.

The first bullet grazed his shoulder, and another came so close to his face that he physically felt it. But that did not make the man flinch. Not in the slightest.

Upon hearing one of his own men, Tobirama jumped down to hide behind the overturned car, looking at those still able to fight. "Ordered to stay inside the car. He is in no shape to fight. I will be taking the lead." He spoke firmly, his tone left no room for questions. His words, however, sent a small whisper through both his and Genesis's men. In no shape to fight? That shouldn't be possible.

"We do not let them get behind us. Understood? Cut them off and keep them at bay." He looked between the men, waiting for an affirmative before he looked up and around. He wasn't just physically quick, either. His mind worked incredibly fast, setting up a plan of attack before barking orders on where to send certain men. He was the only reason so many of Genesis's men had made it out with their lives in the first place. Any other rescue convoy might have only pulled Genesis and maybe another two or three to safety.

Tobirama intended to take the leader of the little ambush and make him an example. That usually ended all resistance. The problem was finding them while making sure that both the rest of the SOLDIERs were safe, and that the convoy was kept safe to protect whoever was still alive inside. He climbed up on top of the car again, drawing fire as he jumped down on the other side to make a charge.

[unforestalledreturn]

It was in this way that the quiet night erupted into deafening blasts and flashes of light. Peppering of bullets rattled against the metal of the train, men scrambled to return fire. Dogged as they were, under Tobirama's command, they rallied, defenses tight and maneuvers swift. But it was only just that; a defense. A nameless number of enemies lurked in the twisted and deep jungles that made up Wutai's vast wilderness. They fought against an unknown number of shadows, the few melee combatants providing just enough of a distraction that the true danger could pick them off, one by one. Their Wutain opponents knew the tactic would result in losses. But they were unafraid of death, the honor of their land woven in the collection of their beating hearts. Where one would raise his katana to strike at a SOLDIER, he knew he would die. He could only hope it gave their snipers opportunity to strike one of their monstrous opponents down. Clearly, this tactic had worked before against the Bravo Team, and against the supposedly fearsome First Class SOLDIER at its head. One down, one to go, seemed to be the sentiment. Bit by bit, Wutain combatants used their lives to lure the ambushed SOLDIER bit by bit, the divide between those who stayed resolute in their adherence to Tobirama's command, and those who chased to finish off their foes. Before long, the air was rich with iron, the earth seeping. Somewhere above the canopies, a frightening hymn was chanted in a language foreign to most, but understood by some. It was a summon. The ground hummed with primordial energy, the blood sacrifice of valiant men satisfying that old pact passed from one Wutain generation to another. The air whipped with harsh pelting rain, winds lashing violently. From within the veil of chaotic elements, a set of beady, serpentine eyes glowed from a towering height above. "L-Leviathan!" A SOLDIER shouted, nearly tripping over himself as he backed away from it and Tobirama, in whom its gaze was set upon. And with the speed of lightning, it struck with its mouth full of razor teeth.

[unforestalledreturn-a]

//Headcanon: Childhood As a child Genesis was very shy and aversive to other people. A bookworm and a momma’s boy, he seldom interacted with other children his age in Banora. And so when he and Angeal first met, they did not immediately hit it off. It was more of a ‘coaxing a stray cat’ dynamic which ultimately set the stage for Genesis’ fierce loyalty to Angeal. 

[unforestalledreturn-a]

 What Chess piece represents you? Black Queen You are the Black Queen. The Queen is the most powerful piece on the board, meaning you are strong in some aspect of your life. Physically, emotionally, mentally, one of these is your strong suit. The queen can move anywhere she wishes upon the board, meaning you have your hands full with all the different tasks and choices in your life. Being the black piece means you work more behind the scenes, working to make sure someone else’s plans succeed, or pushing your own agenda. Just be careful who you trust, for all your cunning and beauty, there are reasons why queens were beheaded. tagged by @sentineloftheunderworld tagging: @ancientblxde @sadistic-second @blackwinged-silversolace @calamitysshatteredson @warofthebeasts

[unforestalledreturn-a]

// For pure intrigue’s sake, I play Genesis as having volatile power spikes related to his body temperature when it comes to his combat abilities. There are times through Crisis Core where he is able to pull off extraordinary feats, and in others where he inexplicably gets his ass kicked. Now, the real reason for this inconsistency is just that Square did not seem to be sure exactly what they wanted to portray with Genesis, but I see an opportunity to make his character more interesting without sacrificing canonical points.  More on the body temperature aspect. Genesis’ mana pool is directly tied to external sources of heat. The hotter he gets, the further his mana pool can temporarily extend beyond its maximum. But by this same token, as his body temperature cools, his mana pool will dwindle temporarily and deplete. So, with enough ramp up, he could theoretically go toe-to-toe with Sephiroth and be stiff competition. But if the fight ends too quickly or he can’t artificially generate heat from his fire-based magic abilities, he is easily defeated.  And you can imagine from here how much he bitches about bad weather. 

[lordsecondsenju]

Tobirama's tone had always been cutting. It was just his tone and the way he spoke. That didn't make it any easier when people misconstrued his meaning. Especially when it paired with the fact that he had to learn how to effectively communicate to become the leader he was. And that fact did not erase the fact that the damage had been done between him and Genesis.

He knew that Genesis would still take his words the wrong way, so he didn't even bother trying to clarify. And when Genesis began to speak, he knew he was right. But he didn't get to argue whatever statement Genesis was about to make as his vision was momentarily blinded by an explosion before he was suddenly thrown into the window as the car and the whole convoy was tossed by the force.

He was the first up, glancing over before moving to Genesis's side. He checked over the man, looking to see if he had sustained more injuries before checking the continued severity of the current ones. "Stay here. I'm going to check out what that was." He ordered, getting up and grabbing his weapon from where it had lodged between two seats.

His weapon was very plain, a long sword with a bit more reach than the average. It was clearly built for speed of swing, as Tobirama had quickly become known as the fastest First Class on record. His speed in battle was unrivaled. The gunshots did not falter him as he jumped up and grabbed onto the railing by the window above, before swinging his feet up and kicking it out. He climbed out into the rain, his own element, and then jumped down to the ground.

He was prepared for what he saw and it still shocked him. A large hole blown into the medical car, and various enemies now shooting at those still crawling from the cars. Not on Tobirama's watch...

[unforestalledreturn]

Weightless for a moment, Genesis was struck with a sickening, albeit familiar sensation. Time was slow, hardly moving as his thoughts raced. Falling, from somewhere high-- Banora, in those young trees. How many times had Tobirama warned him of the weak branches? That no fruit was worth injury? Crack. But they were the largest, the sweetest. Even if there was an orchard to pick from, only the best would suffice. Thud. Slowly, Genesis' eyes fluttered open to find Tobirama-shaped shadow hovering over him. His old friend's mouth moved, surely, speaking to him, but his ears were still ringing. By the time Genesis gathered his senses, his fellow First had already departed, the trail of his lithe form slipping from out the window above them. Outside, the scene had disintegrated into chaos. Bodies scattered the woodland meadow, enemy and friendly alike. Those who were more able-bodied had taken cover behind the toppled convoy cars while unseen assailants peppered through the dark forest. An ambush. Another fucking ambush. Morale was low until a familiar figure emerged from the wreck, and even then it was only just enough for the lucky survivors to grind in their heels and make a stand. "Sir!" A lower-ranked SOLDIER shouted to Tobirama from nearby cover. "Its the Wutain cur again. From the northwest! Might try to pincer us-- where's Commander Rhapsodos???"

[unforestalledreturn-a]

// HC Time! Genesis speaks fluent Wutain and a variety of local dialects. Sure, it has its practical use, but his personal motivation was to be able to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies and conjure spells in their own language to demoralize them.  He is kind of an asshole.  He is the kind of person that will heckle retreating enemy lines as he hunts them down and dispatches them. In their own tongue.  He is additionally familiar with much of their folklore and their versions of the ‘boogieman’ and other frightening stories. He will even go as far as to partially replicating various aspects just to terrify his opponents.  For instance, if there was folklore of a woman who committed suicide by slitting her throat and had a calling card of scratching on the wood as she approached, he absolutely would trace his rapier against the walls and what not just for that added effect.  Yes. He is extra and a menace. 

[valistheanshield]

For a moment, it seemed as if his words had gotten through to the inquisitor. Clive could see the moment of hesitation, of doubt regarding the acts of the past. Perhaps that wasn't for the best though, as the weight of a past could be crushing, especially if you were running from it without knowing. Clive had plenty of experience in that department, and it was obvious Genesis struggled just moments before deciding to lash out rather than confront the revelation he was dealing with. It seemed his words had left a mark, more-so than a blade would have.

Invictus clashed against the man's blade again and again, sparks flying, lighting up the night around them for mere moments before dying down, only to be reignited as Genesis struck again. The man was in a near-blind rage at this point, and Clive was growing concerned he wouldn't be able to talk the man down. Genesis's swings were growing faster, and Clive was beginning to struggle with defending against them. Once or twice, he thought he'd earn a cut for his trouble, but just barely he managed to avoid it.

It wasn't long before they separated again, space between them allowing them both to breathe. Genesis seemed the worst for it, gasping for air while Clive panted, the energy of Ifrit powering him through the exhaustion of swordplay. As the man lifted his sword again, Clive did as well, only....Genesis's blade erupted into flames.

And seemingly not by the man's volition. "So, you are a Bearer." There were numerous questions in Clive's mind now. He wasn't sure how Genesis had managed to be able to avoid detection for so long, especially as an Inquisitor of the Iron Kingdom, or how he seemed unaware of his own abilities. Had the man run so far from the possibility his mind had wiped any trace of the memories of his power? Or did he only just now awaken? The man seemed at least in his late twenties, so what a late bloom if so. Too many questions, not enough time to ponder them.

With the Inquisitor disarmed, Clive lowered his blade, the tip pointed earthward but not entirely, prepared to defend himself if the man leaped at him in confused fury once again. Though, he seemed more preoccupied with the discarded blade, disbelief written across his face. "Was that your first spell?" Clive had to ask, though it likely wouldn't help the situation. The man was clearly confused by what happened, and pointing out it was him, when he held the belief that Bearers and Dominants were unnatural, well. That would be dangerous.

He wouldn't press his point on it being a natural thing, not wanting to break the poor man when he was already on the edge.

[unforestalledreturn]

Perhaps it was something about the way the flames along the blade of his loyal, trusted sword that made it feel surreal. Nightmarish, as his breath quickened in panic, the fire growing from his blade to the dry grass lighting a ring that would only grow. It was the nature of the inferno. It started as cinders, but once ablaze, all-consuming. Genesis could feel it crawling up his neck, throat taking on an amber-red glow that brightened and dimmed with each breath. Each frightened breath seemed to agitate the flames around his sword, and it struck Genesis with a feeling which had once been small. Lostwing relied heavily on their vineyards for their way of life. Yes, surely, one could think that razing everything and everyone to the ground would root the filth wherever it hid. But for Genesis, what use was it if there was no one left to enjoy the splendors of an untarnished world? Even if he was now filth, the feeling did not change. "I-- don't.. ugnn... don't know." He panted between breaths. "Don't know, what I am." If he manifested the flames, surely, he could smother them? Push them down deep, somewhere. By instinct, he rose his hand, outstretched to where his sword lay, a threat that was once his friend. Whether it was his first or within his first handful, Genesis was no master of the art. But if he was anything, he was persistent. His fist could not quite close, but the ring stopped progressing. "... fuck-- don't just.. don't just stand there! Put it out!" He shouted desperately at had been his prey at the start of the night. What a disaster.