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rose_in_winterCharacters: Sephiroth, Seymour
Rating: G
Contains: Vague spoilers for both games
Wordcount: 310
Notes: Written for the prompt "The day I almost ended the world: Sephiroth and Seymour swap stories" fromrosa_heartlily
Betas: None
Summary: They drift past one another, and see an analogue in the other.
The Lifestream wends its way through the Planet and into the vastness of space, carrying him with it. He watches lives flow by, memories and hearts and things he wishes to twist in his hands until they crack like brittle sticks. They are meaningless, and infuriating. He holds on to that anger, refusing to let the Lifestream absorb him, and he watches like the predator ShinRa made him.
It is the color that catches his attention.
The Lifestream tints everything with the illusory blue of Mako light, but this place is nowhere he has seen on the face of the Planet. It is all pinks and reds, cascades of flowers and glowing trails of things that aren't quite fireflies. A red waterfall tumbles into an endless chasm, and shimmering ghosts float through it.
One sees him, and turns his way. He wears strange robes that flex around his body like a fish's fins, and his hair is twisted into blue ropes. Their eyes meet, and in that moment, Sephiroth sees destruction, an entire world nearly bent to this man's will. He tried to seize the power of death itself, only to have it torn from his hands by a girl he had tried to convert to his cause.
He failed.
And in that moment, Sephiroth sees his own efforts laid bare, all that he did both himself and through the remnants, only to find himself brought low by a Mako-twisted failure who never should have survived Nibelheim—not once, but twice.
The other judges him a failure, too.
The Lifestream rushes around another bend, and the other world floats away. The promise of forget laps at him like waves on a beach, and he shoves it away. He will hold on, until he can find that red-soaked landscape again, and prove his superiority to the other.
Rating: G
Contains: Vague spoilers for both games
Wordcount: 310
Notes: Written for the prompt "The day I almost ended the world: Sephiroth and Seymour swap stories" from
rosa_heartlilyBetas: None
Summary: They drift past one another, and see an analogue in the other.
The Lifestream wends its way through the Planet and into the vastness of space, carrying him with it. He watches lives flow by, memories and hearts and things he wishes to twist in his hands until they crack like brittle sticks. They are meaningless, and infuriating. He holds on to that anger, refusing to let the Lifestream absorb him, and he watches like the predator ShinRa made him.
It is the color that catches his attention.
The Lifestream tints everything with the illusory blue of Mako light, but this place is nowhere he has seen on the face of the Planet. It is all pinks and reds, cascades of flowers and glowing trails of things that aren't quite fireflies. A red waterfall tumbles into an endless chasm, and shimmering ghosts float through it.
One sees him, and turns his way. He wears strange robes that flex around his body like a fish's fins, and his hair is twisted into blue ropes. Their eyes meet, and in that moment, Sephiroth sees destruction, an entire world nearly bent to this man's will. He tried to seize the power of death itself, only to have it torn from his hands by a girl he had tried to convert to his cause.
He failed.
And in that moment, Sephiroth sees his own efforts laid bare, all that he did both himself and through the remnants, only to find himself brought low by a Mako-twisted failure who never should have survived Nibelheim—not once, but twice.
The other judges him a failure, too.
The Lifestream rushes around another bend, and the other world floats away. The promise of forget laps at him like waves on a beach, and he shoves it away. He will hold on, until he can find that red-soaked landscape again, and prove his superiority to the other.