Dark Nation scanned the room of its occupants, silently assessing them for any kind of ill intent and threats to his master. They were on a party, one thrown by Shinra in celebration of the president's son birthday. He spotted the hidden guards, Turks, blending among the crowd, alert and vigilant. There was Reno near the buffet, flirting (and failing) to Cissnei who ignored him. He smelt Tseng patrolling in the shadows for sign of any snipers. Rude was standing close and Elena, posed as a rich woman, was with Rufus, his young master.
Security was definitely tight and it would be impossible to infiltrate for the reason that most of Shinra's finest Turks and SOLDIER Generals were here.
Dark Nation snapped into attention as he heard his young master calling his name, following to his side as his master walked up for a chat with the world's hero, Sephiroth.
Dark Nation couldn't put it but there was something strange about the man. Something sinister and dark. Sephiroth smelt like death and destruction, a soon to be calamity. It raised his hackles, instincts screaming to destroy the threat before it could harm his master. He had observed the man suspiciously, searching for signs yet days of observation led nothing out of ordinary opting him to decrease his stalking tendencies and keep an alert mind when encountering the general.
Rufus left the general and went off to greet the guests, Dark Nation following loyally by his side and Elena right beside him. Dark Nation purred as the woman scratched his ears, easing his stiff body as pleasure from the scratching overtook him. He always liked Elena. She has good fingers.
His ears perked up as he heard a small scuffle, unheard by human ears, before a grunt and a thud silence it. It would seem that the would-be-assassin had been spotted and taken down by the Turks.
Aside from that, the party was normal.
It soon ended at midnight, most guests returning to their luxurious homes. Rufus had rubbed his ears on their way to the mansion. As Rufus closed the door, he transformed.
A young man, two years younger than Rufus, stood at where the cat had been. Black hair fell in curls, framing his face and emphasizing the color of his emerald mako eyes. He shorter than the blonde, leaner and paler. All in all, he looked like a fae.
As soon as he transformed, hands cupped his cheek and a mouth claimed his possessively.
Hours later, one Harry James Potter curled closer to the warmth as he slept contentedly, safe and away from the abusive care of the Dursleys.