#verse: Crisis Core

[unforestalledreturn-a]

continued from here @serafim Bumping into his lip as he drank, a slice of dumbapple was the source of a momentary pause. It was just enough of an opening for Sephiroth to artfully work his way into the catastrophic endeavors of research without so much displacing a single page. Such tactics were brutal and undoubtedly unfair. Nonetheless, Genesis was unwilling to give up his little treat either. He would make no commentary on 'what he thought of it'. That would require a critique to begin with in the first place.

"Poor thing's hibernating. Hasn't slept well since his last assignment." It was a... messy one, undoubtedly. Even if the reports spoke of one version of events, the heaviness in their fellow First's eyes spoke of another. And like clockwork, Genesis' nest had taken form, building until it was the state it was now. He should have been there, spare the misery. So he was now here, trying to make squiggles of some madman's diary garner clues he somehow missed the first, second, and... twentieth times. "Possibly." He replied to the suggestion of submitting a request for an open study with a suspicious amount of agreeableness. "Provided adequate furniture arrangements can be made." He set the page down on the newly available surface, namely Sephiroth's lap. Without so much as looking up, he took the next page in the diary, water-logged, and hardly legible. If one looked closely, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. And it remained there as he gently agitated the liquid of his mug to stir up it's pleasant aroma. Briefly, a comfortable silence fell, the rays of the early morning light creeping across the floor in declaration that it was indeed the next day. He was no closer to finding what he was looking for than when he started. "There... are only so many 'new' pieces of materia to be found." A nonsensical statement, one that made perfect sense in his sleep-deprived mind. "Fira is fira is fira. Once manufactured, that's all it is. The deviation in the memories stored within are muddied in favor of wide use. The same use. Standardized and mass produced. Even synergistic materia runs into the same problem--" Genesis cut his rambling short, seeming to even have lost his own train of spiraling thought. Head hitting the back of the couch cushion, Genesis stared up at the high-vaulted ceilings. A delirious laugh bubbled out from his chest. "I should send them on a wild goose chase. How does the ever elusive and legendary Bahamut Ultima sound?"

[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."

[steeleidolon]

Kunsel caught that, even if he looks a little more dazed than usual. He peels himself off of the floor, stretching up and back with a restrained 'hnnn' and a dust-brush of palms to straighten his uniform, such as it is. Pointedly not watching. Not directly. There are things to do and getting distracted by movement to disrobe (and earlier teasing) will delay him from answering the call of the barracks and his bunk.

As he plucks Genesis' materia from his bracer and moves to return it and the excess consumables to their proper places, he glances back and flashes a smirk with just a hint of a dimple.

"...Yessir, I think I can manage that."

Okay, maybe a little more flippant than he should venture in a situation like this, but he forgives himself for the moment, because exhaustion drags on his bones and his brainstem, and not even the enormous canteen of coffee he consumed is helping to arrest that. Today and tonight have been a long week.

He sets the feathered syringe on Genesis' desk then, relinquishing it with a satisfying clink.

"Don't mention it," he answers the first thing, the more important thing, dropping his helmet back onto his head and exhaling at its familiar confines. Bleary-eyed, he won't have much mental energy for anything productive, but he can at least exit without the look of a walk of shame.

Ridiculous.

He remembers himself with a salute, tapped fingertips to his visor, and then moves to depart.

The sentries giving him odd looks exiting the Commander's tent after dusk will simply have to continue wondering.

Genesis can feel the crackle of that magical bridge snapping, although perhaps less so than Kunsel does. One of the side effects of being as magically-inclined as he is, he's more sensitive to it.

Still, he manages to sit up a little, taking a few breaths. Proper, deep breaths. It's nice to feel like he can take in air again.

A chuckle, all in good humour, is his response to those words, shaking his head lightly. Despite the weariness in those mako blue eyes, he looks far more awake than before.

"Of course, Kunsel. I'll be fine." The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips, and even though his stubborn sense of pride would say that all is well and that the man could go, perhaps in this post-poisoning recovery phase he was a little more earnest.

"... saved my Goddess-damn ass there..."

It's a faint whisper, but one that enhanced hearing would be able to pick up. Still, he relaxes a little, removing his gloves and coat for now. Without his coat on, it's easy to see that he has more defined muscles than his silhouette would usually have one believe, but that was all part of his illusion, to make his enemies think that he was far more lithe than he was.

"You look like you're about to pass out. Go and get some rest. That's an order." He tries to get some seriousness into his tone.

[ghostofnibelheim]

"I apologize for the interruption. I'm Sephiroth, one of Hojo's SOLDIERs." He introduces himself with a mechanical bow of his head. "I am in detention for breaking the rules. I was ordered to assist you in any way necessary for the next four hours."

[unforestalledreturn-a]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

|| an assortment of dialogue prompts || Status: OPEN!

Off-duty, early mornings were always a hit or miss with Genesis, and it was entirely dependent whether he was still up from the night previous or had fallen asleep engrossed in his research into the arcane. That was his excuse, in the least. He was always on the cusp of a major breakthrough, something that would transform the very way SOLDIERs engaged on the field. A little lost sleep was a small price to pay, He'd say, brushing aside any concerns posed his way about his health and habits. In truth, it was hard to sleep. It was hard for all of them. He'd never say it out loud, but there persisted an impossible desire to somehow spare a little bit of that grief and loneliness. Angeal was kind and wanted to do good. But war was filled with the unexpected and the cruel, and the questionable decisions his dear childhood friend had to make weighed heavily on the man's soul. How could one be honorable as a murderer? Sephiroth was another beast-- he was far more accustomed to the atrocities, but only because that was all ShinRa had for their most precious hero. The weight he bore, did he even know how lonely it was? All by himself on that pedestal? Often, Genesis second-guessed himself at this. Maybe he was projecting too much on how he would feel if there did not exist a single person in the world that understood him. How maddening it would be. But it was so far a distance for Genesis to climb, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, to say with confidence that he could be relied upon. Yet, even burning the candle on both ends, Genesis could not help but feel the effort was futile. The dead language on the many scripts and texts before him had long since become watery and difficult to read. Another trail of another summon to substitute the strength he did not have, pewtering out. And, evidently, Genesis had reached a state where he was not even all too aware of his surroundings. Head supported by his hands as he tried again, muttering the same damn passage under his breath, he almost did not recognize that instead of scribbles and faded ink, there was a cup obscuring his view. The steam wafted into his face, a pleasant enticement of something herbal, cinnamon, and sweet. When he finally looked up, he found Sephiroth standing beside him in the cluttered disaster corner that Genesis called his 'study'.

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜ Dull, exhausted eyes regarded his fellow elite. So far up there... Was there any world where Genesis could possibly reach? The smell of spice drew his eyes back down. "Oh, darling, did I wake you?" He purred sarcastically, but weariness made it sound a touch... too earnest. Genesis grasped the hot mug and brought the rim to his lips, inhaling deeply. Well and truly, there was nothing else that could smell better than that, not that he would ever give Sephiroth that satisfaction. Not intentionally. "Just as a reminder..." He paused to sip, and the sip turned into a gulp, savoring the way it burned down his throat. "... poisoning those who disturb your beauty rest is still considered a crime."

[heartbinders]

❝ Okay, no more screw-ups. ❞ He's been getting ratioed by his on-blog peers this WHOLE event so far. He's sick of it. ❝ These Miis won't know what hit 'em. ❞

And considering that they're Cruel Smash Miis, he can't even be mad about that showing. Best on the leaderboard? Nah, and that's annoying. But 40 Cruel Smash Miis is nothing to sneeze at.

❝ Let's see the others take down forty Cruel Smash Miis, then. ❞

Where one angel shows off, though, the other sees it as a challenge.

❝ How about sixty-five?! ❞ Pit's chest puffs out with pride.

❝ How about you watch your back in the next event? ❞

Okay, while they're bickering, the others are taking their turns.

❝ Phew! ❞ Sora lets out a long sigh, wiping away sweat that gathered on his forehead and plunking back down in the sidelines when he was finally bested by a Mii. The Keyblade vanishes from his hand. ❝ Those Cruel Smash guys are no joke! Huh, Cloud? ❞

— Yeah, boy, did Cloud know.

[firxga]

AMBUSH :  for both characters to come under attack by the same enemy

"Tch."

That was the weight of his response to Shinra's infantry, as though it were a mild annoyance to face down the behelmeted fodder. This wasn't how Genesis planned to start his day, and the other defector didn't exactly look thrilled about the surprise guests either.

"Your ragtag little group going to make an appearance?" he asked a question which he already knew the answer to. His lips kicked up into a sharp, lopsided smirk. "No? Do try to keep up, old man."

[azure-steel]

Oh, but Cloud had noticed the weird looks being thrown their way, his eyes would dart towards those curious stares, back to the silver SOLDIER and then back to the passing crowd.

Man... that raw egg was really starting to solidify and culture in his guts right about then. Or maybe he was just having the fanboy jitters standing here and talking to the one and only Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class... no... it was the egg, we're blaming the raw eggs today.

Damn whatever chicken shat that one out!

"I-I guess we're friends, yeah." He tried to sound confident about that answer, he really did. But were he and Zack Fair really friends? Or did the other man just feel sorry for him and chose to sit with him in the mess hall since they met back in Modeoheim?

It wasn't a thread Cloud particularly wanted to pluck at in that moment.

"Sir... permission to speak?" he asked this with the meekest of voices and yet failed to wait for a response before asking his question anyway. "What's this gotta do with that egg you gave me?"

To the reveal of the grunt's face, Sephiroth did not react in any discernible way. The way his gaze remained still and heavy on the other would have one think that nothing had changed at all from his perspective, and that he was still waiting to see. Maybe lost in the mysterious world of a First Class SOLDIER war hero's own musings.

"I have seen you before." He said at last. "You were sitting with Zack."

Perhaps that should have been worded the other way around. Before the shy and quiet disposition of this infantryman, Sephiroth had no doubt that Angeal's protégé was far more likely to be the one guilty of imposing himself for company. But it was a company that could be appreciated... in healthy doses. Or so Angeal would say.

"Are you a friend of his?" Sephiroth asked then, not even paying notice to the curious looks thrown in their direction by passersby. He'd grown accustomed to people being curious about any and every interaction he may have in public.

[ghostofnibelheim]

@tiamattseirei liked for a Smol Starter!

Sitting with his back to the large floor-to-ceiling window of the 49th Floor, Sephiroth is keeping his arms crossed over his chest. There's no readable expression on his face, yet for the careful observer it might be easy to notice the regularity with which he glances towards the doors to the simulation room.

The tech engineers are still in there. It looks like this might take longer than he had anticipated.

When he hears a set of footsteps coming towards the lobby, where he is too, he does not raise his eyes to look up. He recognizes the sound of SOLDIER boots quite well.

"If you're here to train, you're out of luck." He warns them as soon as he's sure the new presence is within heartshot, his voice detached, almost like a recorded message coming out of a machine. "There's an emergency maintenance going on in all rooms."

This would be the fourth SOLDIER he's informed. All previous ones had left to go spend their time elsewhere. Some were even enthusiastic at the prospective of skipping training for some leisure time.

Not him. He'd wait. Better than going back, anyway.

[unforestalledreturn-a]

Duplicity

@stagnantmako liked for a starter! It was getting worse, and Genesis knew it. What had begun as a gradual, insidiously subtle decline over the years now plunged into further, deeper depths. The wound in his shoulder would not heal. Genesis had tended it for nearly two weeks now, and where a SOLDIER's natural regeneration should have made quick work of such a nuisance, there was no healing to be found. Rather, it festered and oozed-- a plague within. He felt it stir all sorts of things. Beneath his skin writhed what felt to be a thousand snakes, burning and spreading further and further. And as it progressed, the harder it was for him to maintain face. Yet, here Genesis was, gathering his aching resolve to bury deep the pain and sensation of something itching just beneath the surface-- there was no other choice. Soon, he would depart for Wutai, the busy coming and goings of citizens filling the train platform with noise, bodies, and... something that made his head throb. Was this how an insect felt as it was melted within a cocoon? Reduced to nothing before bursting into something else? Hollander had eluded to as much-- Genesis refused to believe it. I'll clear you for this mission, just keep in mind what I said. I'll be ready, when you come around. That, however, was not the start nor end of the crimson elite's problems. As if keeping face was not difficult enough in front of his men, his Director, the public, even his closest friends, he had been saddled with... an unexpected challenge. Nero was the name, a prodigy magic user seeking mentorship. Apparently, the SOLDIER had connections within ShinRa, and through the wheeling and dealing of the corporate madhouse, had managed to twist the Director's arm enough to assign him this new mentee. They were to meet soon, not that Genesis was paying all too much attention to anything around him. Rather, he sat back on one of many blue benches that lined the station wall, arms crossed and expression pensive, not too unlike how one might look to be on the verge of being sick.

[heartbinders]

TAG DUMP: CLOUD STRIFE

❛ ic: cloud. ❛ musings: cloud. ❛ headcanon: cloud. ❛ aesthetic: cloud. ❛ meta: cloud. ❛ images: cloud. ❛ relations: cloud. ❛ open: cloud. ❛ closed: cloud. ❛ inbox: cloud. ❛ dash games: cloud. ❛ starter call: cloud. ❛ drabbles: cloud. ❛ music: cloud. ❛ verse: cloud ; crisis core. ❛ verse: cloud ; original. ❛ verse: cloud ; remake. ❛ verse: cloud ; rebirth. ❛ verse: cloud ; kingdom hearts. ❛ verse: cloud ; smash.

[unforestalledreturn-a]

Fealty was the blood that ran through the quivering, shaken SOLDIER's veins. It was the ink by which his strictures were written, the fury that coursed through his blade as he struck down the innocent, burned their villages to ash with cruel efficiency as not to allow even the faintest protest escape. He did not revel in it that suffering, but, like a damned, deluded saint, he was thrilled by every exercise of his bloody devotion. For if it was not him, who else would be left? Would it be Sephiroth, born and raised to be that efficient killer, one who never had the luxury of a single breath of humanity? Would it be Angeal, whose conflicting morals killed his soul in such context? Every dying scream was a love poem, every person Genesis had ever killed was in their name. Spare the grief. But as Genesis' head sank against Jae's padded chest, as his form was collected up as an answer to a barely whispered request, a selfishness that the crimson elite could hardly stomach to utter it became all too clear. It was spelled on the ridge of his knuckles, a dizzying, all-consuming notion that left Genesis quite breathless. It was clear now, why the murders of foreign civilians failed to weigh on his conscience the way Scavola's did. And it was the simplicity of who the act was done for. 'For them', Genesis would accept any heinous atrocity. But 'for himself'... it was not something that had ever entered his mind. It was the same. Quite a shadow, his little mouse had cast. And while Genesis spoke no more, the stiffness of his frame laxed, drifting, exhausted, curled on the lap of a man in a bloody dress, lulled to sleep by such a promise.

“For what?” he asks, genuinely curious despite his exhaustion. Even with the blades of the overhead fan spinning away, he felt as though he were melting. Sweat dampened hair clung to his expertly contoured cheekbones, the blush and lipstick slightly smeared from… Ugh. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to think about right now.

“It’s not your fault.”

It’s a weak statement, but he’s trying desperately to grasp the correct words, the proper amount of empathy needed for this rather unique situation. But he knew himself, he would do it again. And again. As many times as he needed to, however many times it would take. Human lives meant nothing to him, or at least they weren’t supposed to, but when it came to Genesis- Well. It’s so strange, he hasn’t felt this way in a long time. Maybe ever. Like stirring from a deep slumber and blindly feeling your way out of bed, there was a pleasant warmth but also a disorientated kind of haze clouding everything.

Jae didn’t need to hear anything else.

He stamps the filter out into an ashtray and draws closer, pulling Rhapsodos into his lap practically. The musical chime of jade bangles decorating his bony wrist intermix with the groan of the rather ancient couch’s springs as their weight shifts and they get more comfortable, the Turk wrapping his arms around the redhead’s shoulders as Genesis’ face presses into his chest. Yoon’s scarred fingers card through the other man’s hair slowly, sliding further down to gently rub at his back in small circles.

“I won’t. Never again,” he promises, swears it in the back of his mind like a knight taking one knee and pledging fealty to his liege. Jae interlaces his fingers with Genesis’ and brings them to his lips, pressing soft kisses against each knuckle reverently.

It’s not a perfect scene out of some fanciful romance, more twisted from the pages of a dark fairy tale. There’s blood all over his dress, dried by now, but still evidence he’d have to properly dispose of later. His men would guarantee that nary of speck of evidence linking back to him would be left behind, but he felt better being thorough.

“Whatever you need, I’m here.”

[holyguardian]

SPRAIN : for one muse to carry the other after spraining their ankle. from zack!

Comprehensive list of scenarios.

The expression on her face was almost childish, a sulking pout that suggested she hadn't gotten her own way — which would be a fair assumption. Her wedge sandals had finally betrayed her. Turned out that walking around on what were essentially platforms without a heel strap wasn't the smartest idea in the rougher terrain of the slums.

One wrong step on some slippery scrap, her foot twisted awkwardly, her shoe folded sideways to make the awkward slip worse and goodbye flower girl.

"You barely get free time." Aerith complained from her curled-over heap on the ground, and for a moment it sounded like she was accusing him. "Now I've ruined our daaate!" Also, ouch. Like, fucking shit, ouch.

To his credit Zack had attempted to intervene. What was a twisted ankle probably would have been scraped elbows and a bruised up backside without his quick reflexes. He already had her practically in his arms. So... an adjustment of his grip, and a far too easy transition from crouched down to fully standing, and bam.

"Zack!" That one was an accusation. "Wait, my dumb shoe... just... bend over backwards like a slinky or something and I'll pick it up." There it was. The sulking had finally started to ease.

[sacredflorist]

“So much we don’t know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

BG3 Companion Banter Starters | Accepting | @poeticphoenix

Aerith puts her hands together, smiling gently. Of course, there's so much they don't know, so much they can't predict... but this is part of the beauty of living. No one knows what comes next. It's full of surprises, but it's beautiful. Even through all these hardships, she has never stopped enjoying life. Some woulc consider her naive, but she's far from it.

"But isn't it beautiful this way ?" she asks, letting a soft chuckle escape her mouth. "Not knowing everything... it allows us to live life to the fullest. Don't you think so ?"

[unforestalledreturn-a]

With all the seeming patience in the world, Genesis stood, expression unchanged, even if there did exist a very defined limit as to how long he would stand there with all bark and no bite. Orders were orders, and if it meant hauling the uncooperative Turk over a shoulder, so be it. In fact, he quite nearly hoped Tseng would test him further. But then the tide shifted. And Genesis lost his excuse to do anything extreme. Pity. "You assume correctly." Genesis nodded. "If you would be so kind as to leave all technological devices here." He gestured to desk stacked with undoubtedly a large workload, surely to grow larger after this whole debacle was resolved. Keeping in stride with a single step ahead, Genesis began his escort, one that entailed a less than stellar route, but at no point did any chokepoint like an elevator tempt the seasoned veteran to indulge in a thoughtless convenience. For all he cared, the entirety of HQ could be rigged-- or at least he treated it as such. In reality, it was highly unlikely. No matter, down the stairs they went. Then, from his red leather coat, he drew out a clean phone as they descended, down, down, down to the underground garage where a vehicle waited. Whether it was foresight from the Director of SOLDIER or sympathy for the inconvenience on behalf of the one assigned to protect the Turk, Genesis did not elaborate. "Here." He passed the device.

His ire lay not with the black sheep but the injustice of a would be usurper ousting him from his place of comfort when the stacks of papers only ever grew. So much to catch up on and far too much to take with him. No remote work save for the file he tucked under his arm provided by none other than Genesis the fair.

A cursory glance over the eccentric man in his soft-aged leathers and he decides he could have it worse. At least this one too was pretty to look at.

"You'll do just fine." He has no intentions of reaching beyond his department to deal with a man half as incompetent as his rumored brother. Perhaps he judges too harshly, what man could wrangle the madmen of SOLDIER half as well as Lazard? It must be a greater headache than Tseng can ever imagine.

"I trust that all communications are to go through you." This as he shuffles a few choice folders among the others. Ones he can not afford to leave behind for prying eyes to inevitably search. Satisfied, he waits for the SOLDIER to take lead before they leave the office, keys to lock up tight. What good that will do.

[unforestalledreturn-a]

Routine

@whatdoangelsdreamof liked for a starter! The life of a SOLDIER rarely had moments of true respite. On the field, one's focus had to remain entirely at the task at hand, unwavered by any distractions posed by the outside world. Compartmentalization was critical. But even at HQ, on dedicated leave, the demands of a SOLDIER never went away. One could not neglect their training. One could not pass on their regular infusions of mako, an exhausting process in and of itself. One that had taken a particular toll on one Genesis Rhapsodos who stood panting at the simulation training room, rapier brandished to the side. "Hnnng... ha.... haaa...Say. Can we call it early today, Angeal?" A pause followed as Genesis straightened his posture. "That cut I gave you needs to be cleaned out anyway." He smiled endearingly, wiping the sweat from his brow.