#ghostofnibelheim

[soldier-lodbrok]

@ghostofnibelheim liked for a First Soldier Starter!

"Yo, Sephiroth!"

Glenn called out to the younger SOLDIER, gesturing for him to come over with a grin. It wasn't one of his sarcastic or teasing grins, though. This one was more genuine, encouraging even.

"Hey, you showed us that photo of your mother before, asking if we know her, right?", he recounted the small interaction. Before that, Glenn had honestly been a bit harsh on the kid. But now, with a bit of time and getting to know Sephiroth better, he had remembered the photo and found it quite sad. The kid had seemed to know only the name Jenova and showed that picture of a young brunette with a yellow hairband.

Fuck. He needed to help the kid.

Crossing his arms, Glenn looked almost challenging.

"You really know nothing else about her? You need a friend to find out more? I got eyes and ears everywhere."

[azure-steel]

⚔️for First Soldier Sephiroth~

Send me ⚔️for sketch of your muse @ghostofnibelheim

[scorching-passion]

Closed Starter for @ghostofnibelheim

It had taken some time to pinpoint the exact location of the general down here in the deepest recesses of this old forgotten place. Hard to believe that ShinRa would simply abandon such a prominent relic of its history nestled within the scenic shadow of Mount Nibel. 

Alas, they had, and left it to fester and crumble in favour of pastures new, or so it would seem. The place reeked of mildew, the old furniture, once ornate and pristine simply rotting in haphazard piles in the corners of each room. Memories had been made here once, the rapid evolution of a humble business now established at the very epicentre of the mako metropolis virtually on the other side of the world; an empire as it were, where both men and monster would tremble beneath the mighty weight of the president's wrath. 

Some days Roche could find pride for his service within the company, where his deeds were deemed to be good and just - exacting the will of ShinRa to bring prosperity to the lives of all men. 

Others, like today, that pride would shrink like a lonesome flower denied the fruitful light of the ancient sun. A shadow cast the moment he’d spied the plaque framing the summit of the stairwell in Nibel’s reactor; JENOVA. 

Sephiroth had not been himself since, and the Second liked to believe that he knew Sephiroth quite well, though perhaps not as well as he’d like. Still, enough to know there was something dark and unsettling rattling deep within the silver SOLDIER’s psyche. So thankful had he been upon the First’s fitful vanishing act that the villagers ran their mouths as one would run a motor, so little time had it taken for him to find his commanding officer, nay, his friend, holed up in this forgotten library. 

Like a moth to a flame, Sephiroth was drawn to tomes and the knowledge they gifted.

Needless to say, that one Second Class SOLDIER was not the type for delicate entrances, tramping through the dust crusted hallway, the dirt crunching beneath each heavy boot, like a man on a mission - not quite as far from the truth as Roche would certainly like to admit. 

“My dearest friend!” With a wide sweep of both arms he bellowed only from the other side of the expansive desk of which Sephiroth had perched; his back to him, so broad of shoulder, hunched and tense with whatever burdens would ail him. Clear as day to ascertain this man was not feeling well even without the local folks’ input. 

“A mighty fine fare you so sorely missed. Our hosts certainly noticed your absence, as did we!” There was no malice nor mockery in his tone, perhaps an unintentional edge of concern but given the biker’s sheer volume and incessant jubilant nature there was no doubt the latter would simply go unnoticed.

[mezzomorendo]

[ @ghostofnibelheim continued from here ]

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. He couldn't even recall the story he was telling Kunsel that's how fucked he was.

Every iota of Zack's soul left his body for the lifestream, waving goodbye as the blood he spilled dripped onto the once pristine floor. Sephiroth was going to kill him. Angeal was going to kill him. Really anyone was going to kill him. Especially Sephiroth's fans. Oh no if they found out what he did he was even more dead than he already was.

"H-Hey, Sephiroth!" Zack drew out each squeaked word, backing up slowly from the beast in front of him. With his hands held up in surrender he started saying his prayers. "Look, man, I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea you were there and it was a complete accident!"

He took another step back. Was he out of range of the katana? Probably not. He should step even more back.

"I'll make it up to you! Sound good? What about coffee or something? My treat!"

[shinigxmi-muses]

@ghostofnibelheim​

    What a commotion... Even through the thick walls of her room, Aerith could hear- feel, even- the rushing and pacing of life around her. Emotions running high, people trying to find out their orders as something shook up the usual order of Shinra’s perfectly timed schedules.

    It was a temptation she should’ve resisted. After all, acting out meant someone would get in trouble with Dr. Hojo...

    ...She was no such girl. Setting aside her artwork and sneaking up to the door. Pausing, waiting...and then opening it. Peering out into a blissfully quiet hallway. Absent of any kind of personnel.

    With a breath of excitement, she darted out and away.

    No sense in thinking about it! No sense in hesitating! Aerith would charge boldly forward, and learn something new today. Without the threat of being caught or restrained to the tiny, caging room. Today... She would be free. (At least, for a little while.)

    Down the hall, scurry to the elevator...pause once more to listen, before hitting a button on the console. Her mother had always assured her to not worry too much; don’t overthink. Oftentimes, the Planet itself would guide their hands and fates, in a way most beneficial to them. Even if it didn’t seem like it, at first. Aerith still trusted wholly in it, to the point that when the doors opened, she hardly hesitated at all to step out and look around.

    ...Definitely somewhere new, but where...? Much like the rest of Shinra, this place blended in with almost all of the other floors. (At least, of the ones she’s seen...?) However, it was...different, too. No one was here, save a few spare, nervous feelings...

    ...And one aura she’d never felt before. Different from everyone else in the building. (Save one, maybe.)

    She walked to it without a thought. Almost in a trance as she moved down the hall, left, to the door... Reached up to open it via the panel, and was startled when it opened up before her hand could touch the screen.

    Compared to her, the boy seemed impossibly tall.

    “Um... H-Hi...?” Hopefully he didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to be here.

[ofdraiocht]

@roleplay-abiogenesis2 // @ghostofnibelheim​ Liked for Biggs //Crisis Core Seph edition

Shinra being in the slums wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t even that unusual to see some in Sector 5. Especially lately. Something seemed to be going on with the company, he just didn’t care much as to what. Normally it was the soldier grunts or occasionally the Turks; the office workers who lived down there. But this one looked different. Nothing about him screamed Shinra per-say but there was something Shinra-y about him. If that made any sense. It made sense to him at least. 

“Alright kids, inside.” He coaxed a few stragglers who were not so subtly watching the long haired man, shooing them inside the Leaf House before he stepped over, both cautious and curious. 

“Can I help you with somethin’? We take in a lot of strays but I think you’re over the age limit.” 

[mjm5655]

❛   don’t you have anything better to do?  ❜  for Majima from @ghostofnibelheim, as requested~

castlevania s4 quotes // accepting ! // @ghostofnibelheim

❝ naw. ❞

majima had opted to since tseng had forbid him from going on missions for a bit having caused more trouble than he should have in his last, he was left to wander the shinra building, tseng had rats all around the place to let him know if majima had decided to leave it ; they'll been right on his tail, so what better way than to spend some time in the SOLDIER department ?

he always did like watching these men train, & today, he had the joy of watching the first class SOLDIER sephiroth do his thing, the man was legendary, the way he thrown that long sword of his around, how he took out whatever he was fighting in the virtual reality system with ease ; it's times like these majima regretted not opting to be a SOLDIER himself, but he liked the turk business more as much as his boss could be an absolute bore to work with.

❝ i've been confined to this damn building for the day, n' it just so happens, watchin' ya is the best way to spend my time, so keep it up, will ya ? n' don't mind me. ❞

sucks if the first class sephiroth is also a bore that would stop at what he's doing, majima's been enjoying watching the man in action, even learning a few moves to try himself when he gets out & is able to make a visit to the coliseum.

[sageofjustice]

@ghostofnibelheim

ooc: here is your cactur meat sir, bon appetite

[ghostofnibelheim]

//Okay, it's time I put my controversial hat on.

Welcome to ghostofnibelheim, where I write Sephiroth. Yes, you know the guy. Mass murderer, former war hero gone psycho and on a quest for genocide and world domination. We all agree that you came to this blog knowing this, yes? Good.

So hopefully it won't disturb anyone if I show a lil comment I wrote on Reddit (r/badRPstories or something like that), in defense of someone who was getting bashed for choosing to write an Axis soldier in a World War II historical setting. The OP doesn't exist anymore, guy was literally bullied into deleting it, and now I want to give my small rant about it.

Now, as you can observe there's at least 3 people who felt offended by my take (and the number would be bigger if the OP post wasn't removed, I wager), but this to me only reinforces my point. The RPC is infested with this strong dogma for which if you choose to RP a character with certain beliefs, jobs, or roles, it's because you deem it appealing, just, romantic, or ideal. This is absolutely a misconstrued logic and I am, quite frankly, so so tired of it.

What is it with this moral cleansing in the RPC? Why is it okay for me to write Sephiroth and all the horrible things he's done, but suddenly when the settings become part of the real history of our world, it's just not right anymore?

The second great war happened. It sucks that it did, but it happened, much like every other war out there. It was terrible, but it is history. Trying to censor these things will not make them go away nor give justice to their victims. It's events that need to be remembered, imagined, and written about: as research, as documenting, and yes, even as a creative outlet.

If you're not ready to cancel Cristopher Nolan for directing Oppenheimer, you shouldn't be so eager to obliterate a roleplayer wishing to explore a German trooper from the '40s.

I do not support the censoring and canceling of creators exploring real dark history. One of the most important lessons I have from school was when my history teacher taught me the reason why there's history classes at all, to lil smartass me who thought he was smug saying "what's the point of history unless you want to be a museum guide or something?":

History needs to be remembered so we don't forget the bad shit we did and do it again. It is for this reason that things like war, violence and cruelty are explored by creative writers, both in real and fictional settings alike. Remember that fantasy is often an allegory of reality, in this Sephiroth and ShinRa are not different.

You don't have to agree with me on this, but I hope you at least understand where I'm coming from. Otherwise, I don't even know why you'd follow a Sephiroth blog.

Dr. Saru\\

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

//Still working on drafts here but hop on over to @ghostofnibelheim to give Sephiroth a comforting pet. Muse is deep in the blues with my mourning of Dissidia Final Fantasy Opera Omnia, reaching End of Service in a few hours.

The Dissidia games are the best verse for characters from different universes to meet and it's criminal how underrated and unknown it is in the FF RPC especially.

Give it some love, please and thank

Saru-mun\\

[cwarscars-a]

⚜️ for @ghostofnibelheim if you'll have me <3 I love what you do~

Send me “⚜” for an aesthetic of your muse.

(( i never forgot about you! i just took SUPER long & i'm sorry for that ! i hope that this is okay c: <3 ))

[soldier-lodbrok]

From @ghostofnibelheim (First Soldier verse~):

"Did you eat anything strange growing up?" Sephiroth's question comes flat and out of nowhere, like lightning on a sunny day. "When did you start to grow hair on your face like that?"

He's been wondering when he'll get something similar himself.

What.

Glenn had been occupied with sorting his Materia when that question suddenly came out of leftfield. Slowly turning towards Sephiroth, he had to wonder with what that teenager's brain was occupied all day. Apparently with the most mundane teenage-boy questions that existed.

For all the training and schooling the golden child of Hojo must receive... apparently everyday life lessons weren't included.

And that made Glenn grin a little, stroking over the beard on his chin. Oh, he would have fun with that.

"Are you jealous, my young hairless friend?"

"Do you really think you are prepared for that dark rite? Do you truly think you got it in yourself to prove yourself worthy of that specific stage of adulthood? I have to warn you, Sephiroth... it is not for the faint of heart."

@ghostofnibelheim

[azure-steel]

@ghostofnibelheim asked:

"Can you eat these?" Four lonely and dry words make the spell by which the war hero dispels the heavy and dreary silence of the lounge room of the 49th floor.

Standing tall and imposing before the small infantryman, he holds up a single chicken egg.

Hopefully, a hard-boiled one

There was always something so fundamentally tedious about sentry duty. No one enjoyed just standing around in one spot for hours on end until your brain dissolved in your headcase. But today was special, super special in fact. So very few infantrymen are bestowed the hour of guarding the 49th floor lounge.

And even few the honour of being approached by one Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class. Ah, Cloud could feel the light fizz of the stars in his eyes when Sephiroth not only approached and gave address, but also offered a gift.

Albeit an egg.

The blonde's stand-to-attention was cut drastically short as he regarded the question, but also this offering which... seemed to still have the shell on.

"I... uh... I mean... hmm..." It was the best Cloud could muster in the moment, a myriad questions raced through his tiny mind in response to the request posed to him just now.

'Why is the shell still on...?' 'This doesn't sound like an order, am I okay to say no?' 'But this is Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class, my idol and superior, is denying him seen as a crime? Will I go to jail?' 'But if I do take it, just how much pain am I going to be in if Heidegger finds out I've been eating on the job...?'

Amidst the panic now beginning to froth into the infantryman's gullet there had to be a miscommunication between his brain and his basic motor-functions as he would simply reach out, take the egg with it's shell still on and just cram the thing into his mouth. There was a lot to be said about instinctual compulsion, that was for sure, and there was plenty to regret in that moment he would never be able to take back.

The crack of that shell grinding against his teeth was utterly revolting, the cold white and the yolk on his tongue equally as nauseating. It must have shown on his face; that down turned scowl to his mouth, the almost (but not quite) tearful expression in his eye How he was able to resist his gag reflex as he swallowed it down, shell and all had to be commendable, surely!

The egg... Cloud was going to be tasting that thing on his tongue and feeling it in his throat for next week.

It was RAW!!!

[scorching-passion]

@ghostofnibelheim Continued from here

It all happened so fast, a blinding flash, the single flutter of the eye. And yet so slowly, agonisingly so, as if time itself saw fit to gift him the pleasure of witnessing the sheer magnificence of carnage itself, the devastation wrought by the glittering steel nestled deep in the grip of the First Class SOLDIER’s palm. 

Death incarnate.  Atrocious and barbaric. A vision of awe-inspiring blistering beauty if he ever did see it. A spectacle of which froze the air in his lungs and brought his blood to the boil.

Even the mark carved into the ground, only inches from his very being, was simply another fantastical thing to see. The deep ice cold ache in his chest, swelling from deeper still to know in that moment that he had been a mere single breath from utter annihilation... There was something exhilarating about this moment; a moment which had woken something up inside the young infantryman, something hot and wild, fluttering in the belly. 

Breath-taking… was possibly putting it mildly. Trapped in his dreamlike state, all he was able to do was stare. Roche had never known anything in his relatively short life as gorgeous as this; the splendour of a warrior with the power to take down the gods themselves. Such grace and finery, such little effort to triumph over mountainous creatures that seemed to rattle even the cohort who pulled him back. 

There was no fear here, no cause to feel it, only the white-hot admiration for this SOLDIER First Class and the power he wielded in which Roche found he so desperately needed.

Shiva, have mercy, for his soul was surely on fire. Fate had brought these people to him today, for this moment, this memory of which Roche was certain he was not likely to ever forget. 

Purpose stood before him now, cloaked so perfectly in his gown of polished silver and midnight black. A legend amongst men, the greatest of all SOLDIER. 

Difficult to fathom, impossible in fact merely remembering the moment the hulking creature set before them simply… fell apart. A writhing grisly spectacle of death itself, and Roche would gaze upon the sight before him in a state of unadulterated, horrified wonderment. There was no sense of feeling right then, even the light shove to garner his attention was reciprocated with a slow turn of his head and a wide doe eyed expression. And senses did not truly begin to come screaming back to him until the moment the taller cohort to their rear began to bellow his orders. 

The clarity of the world around him, the immense gravity of that one, singular, life changing moment, so intense it was nauseating, and yet it felt for the very first time since setting foot on the hard soils here in Wutai that the fog had finally lifted.  For the first time in his life, he could finally see. Hear. Feel.

His birthright had finally been realised. 

He wanted that power, the strength to cut down his enemies with a single swing- To lift the bodies of the fallen unto his shoulders and carry them home. 

‘I’m not strong enough to lift him anyway…’ SOLDIER called for him, the sweetest siren song, one he was unable to resist. A need so unbelievably strong already invading and rooting into the very marrow of his bones. 

A quick glance over the second cohort’s shoulder, the glint of that brassy pommel resting at his back before bright eyes would shift back to the dull sheen of his helm, and followed closely by a single - albeit confident - nod of his head. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” was all he said. Sans the snark, without pomp and sarcasm. A basic submission and promise of future obedience in the wake of this latest display of glorious brutality. 

And with a strong upward tug of his pack they trudged onward, Roche’s sights squared firmly then on the man in black and his legendary pulchritudinous blade in hand. He would keep his distance... for now.

[ofgeneticperfection]

"Didn't think I'd ever catch you in a disheveled state." From Sephiroth @ghostofnibelheim

Isrieal retracts her fingers from her tousled hair and turns towards the voice. Great. Was she now hallucinating? Nope. There he stood before her as corporeal as ever. Her laugh is a brief, hysteric note as she uncoils herself from the corner of the floor, an empty syringe beside her. Undoubtedly one of her 'sedatives' she often used to dull any hint of emotion that may hinder her.

It was true that it was uncommon for her to be caught in such a state. She always put on a mask around others, one of cold control, but on the inside she has always been disheveled. Her life with the Professor was never as easy as she made it seem. Things had been falling apart around here ever since he brought that damn specimen into the building.

Even if she was comprised of Jenova cells herself, she still hated the actual being. How it exuded madness into the very air around it. How she had to watch the Professor succumb to this very madness. The amount of arguments that ensued over the matter were uncountable and now it had broken out. She was right all along and the phantom Sephiroth here was just icing upon the cake that made her laugh all the more.

How could she hold together any longer a system that was ready to collpase upon itself? She couldn't. She didn't care. She wouldn't chase the 'Thing' as the Professor would. She wouldn't question how or why Sephiroth was stood before her right now. She places her hand upon the wall to steady herself, long bangs dangling in front of her face.

"Did you really think I was that perfect after all?" She drawls. "The Professors little perfection." Her voice drips in sarcasam. "Do you know what it takes to be perfect in his eyes?!" She questions. "Every ounce of your fucking will and every last strand of sanity in your mind!"

@ghostofnibelheim

[steeleidolon]

From here: (x)

@ghostofnibelheim​​

Sephiroth is infamous for his aloofness. As a matter of course, he stands alone on his pedestal of command; it is expected that, apart from the other First Classes, he is not particularly interested in interaction.

Kunsel is not so sure all of this is by choice.

It is something he does not know for certain, for all that he has been here with SOLDIER long enough to become distinguished as a Second, if extremely careful not to overextend, not to draw too much attention.

Call it a hunch. Call it empathy--dangerous for anyone in their profession to have. Call it curiosity.

A risk, then. He finds it worthwhile.

As it is, he stands a bit more than arm’s length away, not intruding on space any further than he already has, but also not cautious, not afraid. There is something comfortable about the quiet from this distance--set apart from the others who are milling and mingling about. It is not complete silence, and the noise is a different tenor from the ambience of the HQ with its air scrubbers and the constant drone of technology.

“Ah. A glowing review.”

Mild, warm, not quite deadpan - a touch teasing, maybe, or amused inwardly at something. His lips curve below the level of the helmet.

Around the Tower, Kunsel is a nose and a mouth and a uniform, and he relishes in the anonymity provided by all of it, even if he has taken it a step further--even around the barracks, even in sleeping quarters, the visor is on. He takes it off to shower and to groom. Relegated to and excelling in night patrols outside of active combat deployments, he finds this easier to do than it might be otherwise.

It is not often that he is perceived, for all that he perceives much.

This is different, out here in broad daylight, in a semi off-duty gathering for morale, Lazard’s orders. Kunsel’s back is turned to the group at large. He is a buffer of line of sight, positioned so that no others can read his lips.

“It is where it belongs, sir. I give it another five minutes before someone licks the ones on the tray to stake a claim.”

And then a pause.

He reaches up, back, fingertips pressing to the catches that latch his helmet and visor closed. With a click the mechanism disengages, and he bows his head to roll the sculpted metal off.

He could use more sun, but it warms against bronze skin and chestnut hair regardless. A squint betrays light-sensitivity, mako bright around the pupils of hazel eyes - brown and green, with a dark limbal ring. Kunsel intends to meet and hold eye contact, before looking down to a folded piece of paper on the small tray, attention directed there briefly to indicate.

A note in dark ink that will be easily obliterated with grease - or coffee - or water. 

“Fine motor control exercises after infusions are better when they’re useful, edible, or both, I find.”

​