Start time: 11:17 pm.
End time: 11:33 pm
Word count: 434
Pairing: Implied SephirothxCloud, possible SxCxZack (very, very vague…)
Notes: 15-minute ficlet challenge on the word 'poise.' Not very coherent; done fairly late. Also, my first, so go easy on the burning… I personally think it's crap, so I understand the flames. Bear in mind that my writing is no where near on par with some of the fantastic authors on here, but I try; it's hard without a plot.
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He had always seemed so completely at home with himself, his assured strength and smirking superiority. Too young and too naïve to recognize the grace in every single motion of his, whether it was a punishing blow to some folly of a recruit's or the more intimate touches I grew to know and cherish during my time with him. And there was always his First to dull the edge of his shocking refinement, goofy but surprisingly mature in that way of his.
Then there was me, the smaller, slight, foolhardy one who was constantly being rescued by the great General, coveted above all else by Shin-Ra's SOLDIER poster boy. I guess I should have guessed he would not have been content to be the titular head of a corrupt corporation's army; I did get to know him quite well when I was lowly Cadet Strife in SOLDIER.
I lost him somewhere along the winding road. In Nibelheim, perhaps; but I think his discontent and instability started well before then. Zack would agree with me, if he were able. But still, to see him move, even if it meant against me, is like seeing the stalking dance of a lioness tracking its prey, the elegant circles of a hawk completely at home in the sky. Too entranced; he had me completely trapped, from the days of my idyllic youth to the hard, cold life I led later. He became distant and detached; after the Nibelheim disaster, I thought he was gone forever. It was devastating. I was completely his, and would remain so.
Upon his reappearance, he had found me in the company of the earth-bound angel, the only one at all comparable to his beauty and grace. To have never met the Cetra… it would mean her life. She had been exquisite, truly, and yet…
Sephiroth, I never loved her.
When he fell on that lovely not-so-innocent innocent, dark angel of death, I hesitated and made no move to stop him. That blade, beautiful and angry, easily pierced pink cotton and pale flesh, rage embodied in flashing steel. His motives were of spite, no matter what he might try to claim… though, knowing him as I did, he would probably offer no motive or reason whatsoever. The color of her dress offended him, or she was sickeningly pure to his corruption.
It was not in me to be angry with him, though the others thought that I sought him with such single-minded determination to exact revenge. He had to know I never loved her; I had to tell him.
It would always be my General.