#since the math would indicate reeve was just shanghai'd into the company when sephiroth hit the battlefield

[stewardofmidgar]

between the night and the morrow

things that are hard to hear. || {open}

@warofthebeasts said:

❝ i don’t want to do this anymore. ❞ 

He’d been called out to Wutai, ostensibly to look over potential locations for mako reactors. Reeve had a sinking feeling, however, that he’d been sent mostly to see how successful the war was going now that Sephiroth was on the field.

He was roughly twelve, if Reeve remembered his briefing right.

Twelve years old, still tacky with blood from the latest sortie (the latest slaughter), one small hand clinging so tightly to his wrist Reeve thought it would bruise.

Sephiroth was uncanny; between the silver hair and those glowing mako eyes, Reeve was put in mind of the faerie stories his nan used to tell him when he was a child.

But Sephiroth wasn’t a Changeling; wasn’t a fae child left in place of a human one. He’d been made.

But he was still a child.

“...okay,” said Reeve, and wondered how far he’d make it with the boy, if they tried to run.