Chapter 1
Blindly, Sephiroth tore his way through the narrow streets of Midgar, not caring where he was heading.
It was fast approaching dusk, and the sky was overcast with dark clouds. Not a great many people still wandered about the streets, and the chilly October air offered little inducement for anyone to stay outdoors.
However, Sephiroth paid little attention to the weather- or anything else, for that matter. His mind was a jumbled mess of chaotic emotions that threatened to consume him and had no outlet in sight.
Those who recognized him scrambled out of his way, and gazed at his back in fear and awe. Those who could not immediately put a name to his face at least saw the strange glint of Mako in his eyes, and knew beyond doubt he was a SOLDIER, therefore not someone to mess with on any given day.
Such was the usual reaction Sephiroth received wherever he went. His strikingly handsome face, and a little more arguably, honorable and fair conducts, did not make up for that something in his air, which made civilians and subordinates alike go out of their ways to avoid him. He usually shrugged off such treatment with the greatest indifference. However, tonight it was different. Tonight it angered him so much that he could scarcely-
He turned a corner and rammed straight into the petite form of a girl.
The blur of red of pink gave a startled gasp and fell backwards from the impact. Instinctively he reached out and grabbed a hold of her frail arm, keeping her feet planted to the ground. She was steadied, but some contents of the basket on her arm spilled over and scattered on the cold, dirty pavement. Absent-mindedly he noted they were flowers- a rarity in Midgar for sure, since they were all imported from the florists in Kalm and other villages beyond.
He released her immediately once she firmly regained her balance.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the tiny slip of a girl stepped back and apologized immediately, with some distress. She had a lovely voice, soft and melodic, pleasing to the ears. And she was so young- she couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen years of age. Large, deep emerald eyes gazed into his eyes and her lips parted and moved:
"Would you like a flower, sir? They are very fresh, and only a gil each."
He stared. Why wasn't she running away? Why was she still here, standing before him, in his path, obscuring his way?
Something inside him snapped at the moment. Suddenly, he felt a strong urge to possess her, take her into his arms- it has little to do with any poetic nonsense of love or attraction, but was sourced in a much darker, much more brutal and savage desire.
He wanted control. Sweet, sweet taste of power, of dominance, of freedom...
"Sir?" The girl raised her voice slightly at his continued silence, half fascinated, half scared by the intensity she read in his eyes.
But she was still there.
All his life, he never got people to do what he wanted. Those he wished miles away were always there, dragging him into the lab, strapping him to the examination table, scrutinizing and probing.
Those he wanted close were always running away, hiding and avoiding.
But then, there was she, readily within his reach, placing herself under his power...
"Sir?" The girl questioned a third time, looking a little unsure and made a slight movement to leave.
No, no, no! She must not get away! For so long he wanted- needed- to feel this. The divine feeling of control...
Muscles still aching from the vigorous training of the day, stomach still churning from the lab visit to Hojo, Sephiroth reached out and pulled the girl roughly to his body, ignoring her alarmed gasp. Half delirious, with bile in his throat and an ashen taste in his mouth, he wounded one arm around her slim waist and grabbed the back of her neck with his free hand, yanking her braid and forcing her head back. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers in a brutal, searing kiss.
She struggled violently for a moment to no avail, which only excited him further. And then- something changed. Suddenly her body went absolutely still, and after a moment, to his amazement and delight, she began to relax. He loosened his hold on her, relaxed his fist in her hair, his long, elegant fingers stretching and cradling the back of her head.
The girl closed her eyes. Her arms went limp at her sides, and her flower basket fell to the ground unnoticed.
The sky darkened even further, and a light drizzle started as two perfect strangers embraced in that narrow, desolate street of Midgar.