The Final Jerusalem
By Kaj-Nrig
"Gramps," she said quite light-heartedly, hoping to sound quite carefree and innocent.
"What is it, Ruana?" he replied, turning to show her his serious demeanor. She should have known he would've caught on. The old dog was always way too perceptive.
Thrumming her fingers on the tabletop, she gazed out the colored window, watching dully as birds and people and various pieces of litter passed by. "Um... it's about Vincent. Why is he always so... hostile?"
Gramps laughed a bit before answering, "Hostile? Where did you get that impression?" She said nothing, evidently not amused. "My young Ruana, Vincent is... sensitive. His experiences have caused his outlook on life to be a bit grim."
"...does this have something to do with how he acted a few days ago? You know, at the Altar? He got so angry about you calling him a Kisaragi." Gramps thought about this for a second, and then nodded.
"Yes. Yes, that's certainly part of it. But tell me, Ruana: how old do you think he is?"
"Vincent? Well, I remember you telling us stories about him when we were children, so he must be pretty old... but he doesn't look much older than me or Cirrus."
He chuckled once and rose up to stretch, then said, "'Pretty old,' indeed. Believe it or not, Vincent's older than I am." Her attention was suddenly piqued, and the outside world suddenly seemed less interesting.
"W-what did you say?" she asked incredulously. He repeated himself. "But... but you're ANCIENT, Gramps!" He hmph-ed, and she looked at him, turned back to the window, and looked at him again. "Really?"
Gramps nodded. "Really." He continued, "About fifty years ago, he married a certain princess and took the name Kisaragi."
"Whoa, wait a minute. Fifty years ago? Yuffie Kisaragi? I thought she was a virgin!"
"Hah. Hardly. That's the story her father and clan made up for the history books. ...not very original, if you ask me. No, the two were very happily married. They even had a child. A daughter."
"...nuh uh..." A sinking feeling began to assault her, and she suddenly felt like she didn't want to hear the rest of the story.
"Uh huh." She felt that sickening repulsion kick in: she could already tell this story wasn't going to end well, but her curiosity still wasn't satisfied yet.
"So... what happened?"
Her grandfather became silent for a moment, and she saw the fire of his eye ebb just slightly, just enough to tell her that he was in deep pain. "...we fought a form of Jenova, like the one you encountered a few days ago. It was trying to revive its son and take over the world. The battle was hard-fought, and many of our comrades died in that battle.
"Yuffie Kisaragi was one of them. Vincent never forgave himself for letting that happen."
Ruana leaned on the windowsill, at a loss for words. Grandfather had never told her anything like this before... neither had her parents, for that matter. All the stories he'd told them about Vincent had been remarkable, awe-inspiring legends, and as a young child she had developed a crush on the stoic and noble gunslinger. But something like this... something so miserably sad as this... she had never believed it possible.
"...after she died, Vincent killed Jenova," he added, quietly, indistinctly, almost as if it were a passing thought.
"...but..." she finally commented, "...but why does he blame himself for something like that? He stopped Jenova, right? He should be proud of that!" She turned to Gramps. "Right, Gramps?"
Gramps nodded, and she saw his fiery tail fade a little bit, as well. "...yes," he answered. "Yes, he should be."
The Final Jerusalem
Chapter Ten: The Sephira (Baptism)
"We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another."
- Jonathan Swift
The sparse patches of forest surrounding Rocket Town, populated by coniferous and deciduous trees alike, seemed as alien and malevolent to Vincent as the bamboo in Wutai; he had a keen sense that, like the woods of Wutai, the danger lurked not within the nature surrounding him, but bubbled and oozed from some outsider, something alien to it.
As he and Cirrus approached a moderate clearing, he reached for the Quicksilver at his side. Two large men guarded the entrance to the clearing, each with ungainly, seven-foot long swords in their hands. They brought each to bear on the two visitors, and he could see their forearms straining to keep the false weapons at the ready. I could twist your toys into putty if I wanted to, he snapped irritably, fixing the man directly across from him with an indifferent gaze.
"Who are you visitors?" one of the men asked, the tip of his sword wavering in the air in front of Cirrus's throat. "This is a special ceremony. Only the privileged may enter these hallowed grounds."
He'd already had enough. Swiping casually at the knife threatening him, Vincent took a step forward; as he had predicted, the fake Masamune swung wildly to the side, and its wielder struggled to bring it back, but by then he was already within striking distance.
"Hold, you!" The other man swung his blade, and it halted on the base of his neck. This one had some skill.
"Calm down, calm down!" Cirrus shouted, putting himself between the taller man and Vincent. "I am Cirrus Strife, Cherubic Archangel of the Cosmo Canyon Sephirot. Seraph Haams ordered me to speak to him."
"...recite the rite of passage."
"Estuans interius ira vehementi." Cirrus flattened his left palm, and chopped twice, once from his left shoulder to his right hip and again from the opposite shoulder, and brought it to his side, his open hand facing backward. After a moment, the man nodded, removed the blade from Vincent's throat, and returned the salute.
"We are honored, Cherub Strife. I am First Messenger Shem, and this is First Messenger Magid. You will find Seraph Haam in his quarters." He pointed to some sort of machine in the distant woods – to Vincent, it looked like some strange mixture between a flying carpet, a chariot, and a legless canine. Four large, tapering structures dug into the earth, supporting a wide, thick bed of metal and plastic, on top of which was a sizeable half-sphere. Surrounding and on decorating the dome were various implements, most of which seemed purely for decoration. The entire machine was some sort of iron or gunmetal black, except for various decorative banners and statues, all of which draped over or stood on the wide, flat bed. The ensign was colored a vibrant red – red for power – with a gold trim – gold for status – and the emblem adorned on each piece of cloth was that of a six-winged angel outlined in black on top of two yellow, intertwined rings.
But again, as he began to pass them, the guards crossed their swords to bar his path. He said nothing, looking forward with calm, collected eyes, and unclasped his gun-
"What's the meaning of this!?" shouted Cirrus as he rushed back. "Do you not see that he is a newcomer!? He doesn't deserve to be threatened like this!"
Neither man budged, and the one that had spoken before again answered, "He has not yet been initiated. We cannot let him pass."
Cirrus grabbed at the man's hand, and his fist seemed miniscule compared to the man's forearm. "I'll handle his initiation. Leave him be. As Cherubic Archangel of the Cosmo Canyon Sephirot, I order you."
After a moment of unspoken discussion, the two men relented and stepped to the side. Vincent silently strode past, forcefully removing his hand off the grip of the Quicksilver. Just as they turned away, though, Cirrus once again beckoned to the two.
"Vincent, only the Cherubic Archangel is allowed into Seraph Haams's private quarters. You'll have to stay with the main group. These two will make sure you aren't harmed." He looked first at Vincent, and when he nodded indifferently, looked at the two guards to make sure they understood their duty. After they nodded in consent, Cirrus turned and made his way toward the massive configuration of machinery.
They stood together in silence for a while longer. Vincent scanned the clearing, taking in the gathering crowd. All assembled were organized in neat, tight rows. Many carried the same perverted sword that Cirrus had wielded against him, and many more seemed to not be past their teens. He noticed the faint glow of Materia that rimmed the outside ranks of the mob, which more than likely indicated those of higher rank. They seem like a... military. A dangerous one, at that. They were assembled in front of a hastily-built wooden stage, complete with trapdoor in the center and podium with microphone near the edge.
"This way, sir," the largest man said, coming to take hold of his arm.
"…don't touch me." He took a position at the rear of the crowd, and waited. Let's see what you know about Sephiroth, "Seraph Haams."
The imposing transport was just as big and spacious as when he'd seen it in Cosmo Canyon. Sidestepping one of the four large engines, Cirrus made his way to the side of the craft and pulled himself up the steps leading to the dome-shaped living center.
"Seraph," he said, rapping twice on the heavily-shielded door. "Seraph, it is Cirrus Strife, Cherubic Archangel of the Cosmo-" The door suddenly swung open, and a long, middle-aged arm swung out and snagged his collar, pulling him into the chambers.
"Come, come, don't be so formal!" Seraph Haams shouted jovially, embracing Cirrus in a tight, surprisingly painful embrace. "How has my second-in-command been these past two weeks!?"
When he finally could, the young man released himself from the high priest's grip, making sure to keep a safe distance between himself and his leader, lest he be crushed again. There was a gleam of psychotic humor in Seraph Haams's eyes, some sort of happiness there that he hadn't seen before, almost as if the man had just experienced the birth of a child or some such thing. "I-I've been fine, Seraph."
"And Ruana?"
"She's fine, too."
"Your... your, ah... your dog thing-"
"Grandfather is doing fine, as well, Seraph."
"Good, good. Now, come here and sit- Where is your Masamune, Cirrus?" The overwhelming joyfulness that had covered his eyes now gave way to a small bit of concern, though it seemed miniscule, almost like a small cut not worth dealing with.
Cirrus fidgeted a bit, self-conscious and more than a little afraid. Seraph Haams's Masamune lay over by the worktable, no doubt being polished to a shiny perfection, but his massive load of Materia dangled from his neck like giant prayer beads. "It..." he started. "It... it was destroyed, Seraph."
"Destroyed? I don't believe that." The quick response jabbed at him. "The Masamune is an indestructible weapon made for Sephiroth himself. It cannot be broken. You know that."
"Yes, Seraph Haams, but-"
"Ah, no matter, no matter! That is of no concern, Cirrus! Come, come here! I have wonderful news to tell you!" Seraph Haams beckoned for him to follow him into the center of the domed room. As he made his way there, the ceiling began to light up in a montage of the stars in the night sky. The Seraph stood in a circular ring in the very center of the room and closed his eyes, spreading the fingers of his hands as he placed them, palm down, by his side. A cold, bitter wind fluttered at Cirrus's collar, and as he gazed, enraptured, at his leader's ecstatic face, the emerald Materia necklace he wore began to shimmer, wavering as energy poured in and out of them. Strands of green mist billowed from his fingertips and wove their way down into the intricate diagram of circles on the floor, soaking into the designs to create haunting, eerie hieroglyphs. "Look," Seraph Haams replied lazily, his mouth hanging open in rapture. "Look at the stars, Cirrus."
He did, wonder and amazement crowding his senses. The stars and planets came to life, surrounding him and streaking through space through him. It's a projection, he noted in the back of his mind. Then the planets began to zoom by him, and he felt like he were moving, speeding along at an incredible rate, until he finally came to a halt above another planet, this one a mixture of blues, greens, and whites. Looking closely, he could see a dark patch of earth revolving around the globe. This is the Planet.
"Look behind you, Cirrus." A streak of light, a speeding bullet, plowed through the recesses of space, heading on a straight path to the Planet. Cloaked in a striking trail of blue and white dust, the comet looked like some kind of celestial arrow, some being transcendent from mortality. Then he was suddenly moving in, in, closer to the object as it approached the Planet, and he was surrounded by the white and blue lights. He traveled deeper and deeper into the streaking fire, and he thought it would go on forever until he saw something. Something small, in the distance, but it was getting closer. Its body was silhouetted against the glaring backdrop of light, but he could faintly make out... one, two... three pairs of wings on it. This isn't... Then the object, the creature in the midst of the holy fire came into full view, and he saw his face.
"...Sephiroth..."
"Yes... it is time, Cirrus.
"Sephiroth will return."
Interlude: The Final Visit
The gently tumbling water felt cool to the touch, but he had had enough of feeling and being cold. The exotic, almost extraterrestrial cavern pulsed with the warm, welcoming light of the Lifestream, but he had had enough of feeling warm and welcomed. Especially by a remnant of his past. He wanted more than anything for his past to be free.
His footfalls sounded loudly through the cavern, and the pipe organ seemed to echo them with an aching, reverent melody. The paean bounced up and down the haunting spires in the depths, booming into a sad, enchanting choir of meditating footsteps. He made his way in front of the softly luminous altar and touched his hand to his bare forehead. "I lost the gift you gave me, Lucrecia..." He laughed a little bit, a dry and brief laugh, but it still felt good to him. "I suppose it was bound to happen. I should've let you go sooner. For that I'm sorry."
The voice bounced through the cavern, and when it returned to him, he thought he heard hers mixed in it, beautiful and strong. But he was just romanticizing the situation. Removing the Death Penalty from his side, Vincent brought it up the steps. "I... I'm heading to North Corel. Barret wants help rebuilding the town. Seems he wants to bring it back to its former glory. I..." He laid the rifle on the ground by the glowing center, right where he had found it, and stepped down. "I can't give you back your chaos, but I can give you back your death penalty. Now you can go be with your son... and your husband."
He turned to leave, and with his back turned, he suddenly felt her presence, her form, emerge from the glimmering white light. ...you're going to make me return it?
The humor was heartwarming and bitter at the same time, at once nostalgic and somber. He recalled that same statement repeated all those years ago, carrying the same tone and the same teasing and the same coy nature.
"'A gift is a gift is a gift'... right?" When he faced the altar again, she was gone, and he put the Death Penalty back in its rightful place. He kissed two fingers and pressed them to the floor, then replied, "I... I don't think I'll see you any more." When he turned to leave, she was staring at his back again, but by the time he reached the cavern's exit she was gone again.
"Faith"
The Sephira crowded him to the edge of the clearing, up onto a small mound where he could easily sit down and observe the stage. They were eager, in their pitiful, arrogant way, to see and hear, and, by the looks of it, to make love to, the deluded preaching of a religious zealot. He almost would have laughed if they had turned out to be more of the soul-deficient clones that Hojo had experimented on. It would have been some form of divine coincidence.
The massive crowd – it numbered in the hundreds, and he was surprised at the sheer size of the cult – chanted the code of the Sephira with zeal – it was an ancient language that he could not understand – and threw their hands around in wild and carefree demonstration of the Sephira salute. Had a spy... or a Turk... wished, he could have easily infiltrated the ranks of this blundering mass simply by observing the actions: upon entering any gathering, all he would have to do was mimic what he had seen. For all its frills and beliefs and "traditions" and hierarchy, the Sephira was little more than a ragtag group of party-goers.
The uproar abruptly ceased as, in the distance, the carpet/chariot/amputated dog mixture thrummed to life. Speakers on its outer walls began to blare out a deep, brooding song, and the four spiked "legs" began spewing forth exhaust, lifting the pad they supported into the air. From their vantage point, the onlookers couldn't see the large craft until it had risen above the stage, and when it did, they joined the song as a spontaneous choir was formed. They yelled out the "rite of passage" in time with the song, the palpable exuberance growing and growing as the flying disc floated above the stage.
Vincent suddenly felt something wash over him like a wave of air, and he felt a force trying to enter his mind. Confused, he looked around, and to his surprise, the forest had turned into a choir of angels, each with six wings and reverent smiles, and when he looked back at the stage, it had become a brilliant sun. That is no sun... something just happened.
As soon as he thought that, the spell dimmed, and the trees became trees and the stage became a stage and the disfigured machine became a disfigured machine. Anger welled up in him, strong, righteous anger. Shoot it, whoever it is, for even thinking of deluding us, the gritty voice of Chaos told him, itself horrifically enraged – though when was it not? – but he simply hugged his knees in a loose embrace.
Be quiet, Chaos.
The crowd had turned into an orgy, each and every man or boy moaning out the lyrics of the song, pumping their salute with reckless abandon. Someone stepped out of the bulging womb of the ghastly machine, and a godly being peered out at the crowd through the peach- and rose-colored clouds. He observed the illusion and the deception, mildly impressed with the "Seraph Haams's" ability to mislead the masses; the man would have made an excellent Turk.
Green orbs shined feverishly in a long chain around his neck, and as he grasped a rope dangling from a large winch system, they flared even brighter, sending another shockwave of energy through the crowd. It slammed into him again, but he was ready, and the wave receded reluctantly. He could destroy the illusion, if he wanted. He could restore each and every one of their minds, and he could reveal to them the truth. But he had only come to observe.
The man-god descended, both grasping the rope and unfurling his single massive angel wing. When he touched down on the center of the stage, his parish went into an even more raucous uproar than before; the god, with his brilliant blond hair streaming behind him, flared the wing to its full expanse, reaching several meters across before flashing into brilliant motes of holiness. The machine/clouds receded into the background, and the heavens began to rise, until they were no longer up in the sky, but back down on earth, in a forest with a wooden stage in front of them. Only after the illusion and the reality were interchangeable did the green Materia slowly fade and the spell pass. The man knew how to fool them.
He spoke, spreading his arms to encompass his coven. "MY PEOPLE!" he shouted, to which the crowd answered, "MY KING!"
"MY PEOPLE!"
"MY KING!"
He paced around the stage. "I have great news for you, my people! Great news, WONDERFUL news!" He paced a bit more, paused. Built suspense, excitement. The man was truly good at controlling their minds. "Some of you may wonder why I called you here. To those that do: do not regret your resolve in our Lord Sephiroth!" The name alone sent them into a frenzy. "For TWENTY-FIVE years! THREE HUNDRED months! For ENDLESS DAYS have I WAITED for this day! Have YOU waited for this day! For I tell you, my people, our Lord Sephiroth will RETURN again!"
The crowd was ecstatic. He felt like shooting the man.
"Five days, two hours, forty-six minutes, and thirteen seconds ago, I was deep in the forests of Mideel! I remember the day and time, because that, my people, was the moment that AFFIRMED my beliefs! I was preparing, constantly preparing myself for the return of his Lord, when I had a VISION! I had a vision unlike ANY before!" Another pause, another building of electricity. "I know, and YOU know, how Lord Sephiroth transcended this Planet with the fall of the Holy Stone, Meteor! How he ASCENDED TO GODHOOD, and even BEYOND!
"I was training, training like all of you, my people! As we ALL must train to become his soldiers! His WARRIORS! I was training when suddenly I was THROWN into the air and beyond! Up, and up, and into the universe that only the Bahamuts had known, and I knew then that only ONE had that power! ONE Lord! OUR Lord! MY PEOPLE!"
"MY KING!"
"I GAZED out at the expanse, at the WORLD that was his, and I was enthralled! I saw the world that WAS, and then I saw the world that WILL BE! I was ECSTATIC! To see that SOMETHING was near! SOMETHING was near the Planet, and as I looked at it, I got closer and closer, and what did I see!?" Many offered answers in the pause, just as he had wanted. "I SAW OUR LORD SEPHIROTH!" he bellowed, and everybody experienced a miracle. Two young ones near him fainted in reverie. It was like a drug.
"Our Lord Sephiroth is APPROACHING, my people! He is approaching, and we, his BELEIVERS, WE will lead this Planet to ascension when he returns! BEHOLD!"
He pulled out his Masamune with his left hand and waved it like a banner. "MY PEOPLE! TWENTY-FIVE years have we waited for his return, and MANY have doubted us! MANY have BETRAYED us, and we have had to PUNISH THEM!" Cheers rang out from the crowd, cheers about killing a comrade who had simply realized the truth. "I tell you now! Our Lord Sephiroth, in his VISION, his INFINITE VISION, bestowed upon me a new strength! BEHOLD!" With a shake, the "Seraph" let out a battle cry, and every single Materia sparked into blazing glory. The green energy swirled around him like fireflies. "Believe in his POWER! Believe in the STRENGTH HE GIVES!"
A horrendous whine sounded as the air was sucked into him, and when he swiped his blade to the left, another terrific shriek like that of a banshee accompanied it, and something green, something indecipherably powerful shot from the sword, arcing through the air and pulverizing through trees and earth and air, pulling the very energy of the world with it. It sped out, further and further, a blazing green-
"KRRAAAAOO!!" The magic had a voice of its own, and in it was the most immaculate destruction he'd ever known. The forest disappeared. Everything was lost in a circle of green and white, and Vincent's eyes widened as he fought, unprepared, against the waves of energy that peppered him.
The blast eventually faded, but the roar did not. The Sephira continued it, shouting and gnashing and bellowing, and only after Vincent's trepidation passed did he realize that he'd been clenching the Quicksilver, struggling to keep from shooting everyone in the back of their head.
"...MY PEOPLE!" was the call.
"MY KING!" was the response.
It was soon over. Exhausted and weary from all the religious devotion, the "Rocket Town Sephirot," or whatever this bloody convention was called, disbanded and spread to infect the rest of the world with their ideals. Vincent waited by the same entrance for the young Strife, but when he arrived, Vincent was less than pleased to find the old "Seraph Haams" with him.
"Greetings, young man! Cirrus tells me you wish to know more about the Lord Sephiroth!" A sick, evil, deceiving left hand stretched forth, as if it expected to shake his. The rage was evident in his eyes when he turned them on Cirrus, who unconsciously took a step back. He offered his own left hand, saw the man cringe ever so slightly as he too took a step back, and a bit of grim satisfaction tickled him.
"Cirrus is mistaken," he snapped, bringing his hand back underneath his cape. "I came to observe the mockery this world has made of him. That is all."
"Oh? Are you yet another unbeliever? You know, every unbeliever that has challenged us has been converted." He said this with a self-satisfied smirk. "Why, even Cirrus, my very own second-in-command, was an unbeliever like you once." He crossed his arms, well at ease with himself.
"I know what you did." The even reply clearly caught him off-guard, as a beautiful play of emotions distorted and contorted his already disfigured face. "You cannot fool me like you can the weak-minded gathered here." Vincent took a good look at Cirrus, who was now confused, as he could also sense the panic starting to show in Seraph Haams's posture.
"...h-hah! You ARE amusing, unbeliever! There is no foolery to the powers bestowed upon me! Perhaps your ignorant and blind eyes did not notice the scorched earth that was a result of the powers I gained through worship of the Lord Sephiroth!"
His left fist clenched tightly; he wanted so badly to gouge this man's eyes out and end the nonsense that had pervaded this world. "Sephiroth was no Lord, nor did he ever 'ascend.' Sephiroth died before Meteor fell. Sephiroth was a fool that sought what no mortal can attain."
"And how do you know this, unbeliever?"
"Because I was the one who killed him."
Seraph Haams burst into laughter upon hearing that, belting out large, boisterous guffaws that threw out spittle and days-old food and ignorance. "Hah hah hah! YOU!? YOU were the one who kill- who killed- hee hee- who killed S-S-hoo hoo- Sephiroth!? Hah hah hah! Who is the fool now, I wonder!? You can be no older than CIRRUS is, and you KILLED Sephiroth!" The man's continuing chortles sounded like the wails of a dying rat, and the impulse to rip the stupid man's tongue out of his godforsaken mouth had such a strong tang in his mind. "Unbeliever, you DO amuse me. When you were still a boy, I was perfecting my devotion to Lord Sephiroth."
He smiled then, a smile that he knew wasn't one he wore often, one that was reserved for those who had truly bemused him, and Seraph Haams's laughter died off, leaving only a moronic slack-jawed half-smile on his face.
"It must have taken you a long time to collect all that Materia, Seraph." Before the other man could answer, he continued, "When the time comes, none of them will be able to protect you."
Given another chance to talk, Seraph Haams seemed to once again regain his composure. With another hearty snicker, he asked, "Oh? And who would I need protection from?"
"Me." His smile never faded, and he continued to hold the Seraph's gaze. Cirrus said something and began to drag him off, and he relented, but he locked the Seraph with his smile until they rounded a tree and broke eye contact.
His smile had promised death.
They were on the edge of Rocket Town. Ruana had apparently called in transportation for them. As it was, he was currently waiting in a diner, along with Nanaki and the twins. Nuboko, after trading goodbyes with the other three, had decided to stay with his three shipmates and the mother of one of their fallen comrades. Theirs would be a long journey; it would take a very long time to repair the Sword of Gothard, and he knew that it would take even longer for them to recuperate from such a loss.
In a few more days, he would be back where he had started. No, that wasn't true. He would be back where he had believed he'd never be again. Lucrecia... are you still at peace? I wonder, now. He thrummed his claws on the wooden table, eliciting more than a few shocked reprimands from the staff for denting it.
The day before had been one of many frustrations. After having been led off by Cirrus, he'd received a stern lecture from the young man about respect and the like. He'd also learned that Nanaki, in all his wisdom, had told them much of his past. Or at least enough about Hojo and Jenova for them to infer about his involvement in their respective destruction.
He'd also learned that, officially, Sephiroth never existed. For that matter, neither had Jenova. Meteor had been a disaster of astronomy, and Shinra had been the sole force behind its destruction. It figured. Only Shinra was powerful enough to rewrite the history books. The only plus to the entire story was that Shinra was now completely gone.
"Young ones, leave us for a moment. I need to talk to Vincent alone." They nodded and got up. Ruana looked back at him sadly as she followed Cirrus outside, and he wondered briefly what had depressed her. Nanaki rested his front paws on the counter, eliciting another bout of reprimands from the diner's owner. "Vincent, I want to apologize."
"Hm?"
"Yesterday. And on the boat. I said things I shouldn't have." He glanced curiously at the canine and pondered his response.
"...it is... water under the bridge, Nanaki."
When he didn't say anything else, Nanaki appeared to be a bit distressed. "Is that it?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Should I demand more?"
"Well... it seemed like a bit more serious matter to me."
"Beg and grovel, then." Nanaki blinked and looked at him, then laughed, and Vincent allowed himself a small amount of comfort. As he moved to head out front with Cirrus and Ruana, Nanaki stopped him once again. "What is it?"
"I told them about you. I told them... a lot about you. I hope you don't mind."
He thought about it as he stood up to go, then turned around and replied, "...I'm sorry for what I said, as well."
"'Water under the bridge.'"
Heading toward the door on the far end of the diner, Vincent looked out the window at the siblings and noticed that they were busy conversing with an elderly woman, and quite an animated one, at that. Stepping out the front door, he coolly observed this old woman, patiently biding his time.
She locked eyes with him, and all conversation ceased. Her eyes began to grow huge, her wrinkled lips dropped in an expressive "O" of surprise, and her frail arms, one clutching onto a wooden walking stick, began to tremble finely. Cirrus and Ruana both turned to see what she was staring at, and, noticing him, Ruana asked, "Oh, hi, Vincent. This woman was just asking about you. Do you know her at all?"
"Vincent?" The words fell out of her mouth in a high, airy, and timid breeze, but he could recognize its tone anywhere. But it'd been fifty years! He had hardly expected to see her again!
"...is that you, Shera?"
Chapter Ten: The Sephira (Baptism) END
A/N: Oh shizzle! Ze drama, ze drama! Apparently, Red XIII isn't the only one left from way back when. As always, happy reading. This chapter is... I believe it's one of the shorter ones thus far, but I think I prefer shorter chapters over long, drawn-out ones. While writing the Sephira portion of this chapter, I found myself constantly comparing them to either the KKK or the modern-day Televangelists. Not having very favorable opinions of either one, I suppose it's only natural that Vincent's thoughts on the Sephira would reflect my own.
But enough of that. I hope I'm not drawing this story out too much. I know some of you must be wondering just what the hell is really supposed to be the point of this story. Hopefully, the central plot will be unveiled a bit more once they reach Lucrecia's Cavern, and that should come within the next two chapters or so. Should. Don't take that as a promise or anything.
Oh, and if you notice any discrepancies (grammar issues, canon issues, story continuity issues, etc.), please feel free to let me know.
Notes:
Jonathan Swift – An Irish author most well-known for Gulliver's Travels.
Cherub/Seraph – In Christian mythology, seraphim are the highest order of angels, followed by cherubim. (In Judaism and the Kabbalah, seraphim and cherubim are somewhere around the fifth and tenth orders, respectively.)
Archangel - The term "archangel," in Christianity, refers to a lower order of angels than seraphim and cherubim, but in the Kabbalah, each of the ten orders of angels has its own archangel that is representative of one of the ten Sephirot. In Judaism, there are only seven archangels, and I can't remember how they're structured. I assume they're a lot like they are in the Kabbalah.
Popular culture depicts the archangels as some of the highest angels (Michael, Gabriel, etc.), so I decided to pair it up with cherub/seraph.
Sephirot – The Sephirot, depending on the context, can refer to either a diagram of ten interconnected circles or any of the individual circles that make it up. The diagram, also known as the Systema Sephiroticum (System of the Sephirot), is an important symbol in Jewish beliefs – it represents, among many other things, the ten forms of God. In the story, the "Cosmo Canyon Sephirot" simply refers to the portion of the Sephira that resides in the Cosmo Canyon area.
"Estuans interius ira vehementi." – "Burning inside with violent anger." The opening lyrics of "One-Winged Angel," which plays during the fight against Safer Sephiroth.
"...six-winged angel ... two yellow, intertwined rings." – Seraphim are said, in Isaiah 6:1-2, to have six wings each: "...I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted, and the train of His robe filled the temple. Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew." The two intertwined rings are the same as those that float behind Safer Sephiroth. Some fansites have said that these two rings represent the "Empyrean Halo aka the 'Celestial Rose,' the final Heaven and the abode of God in The Divine Comedy" (The Final Fantasy Wiki). However, since none of these sites offer any sort of source for their information, I take it with a grain of salt (and you should, too). I just use it because it makes for a nice motif.
Shem and Magid – Shem is apparently one of the sons of Noah. I didn't know that; it just sounded neat to me. Magid is a character from Zadie Smith's White Teeth.
Lucrecia's Cavern – While I understand the changes that were made to Lucrecia's cave in the updating of FFVII, I prefer the original look to the new crystal-filled one. I also appreciate the more... blasé appearance of the original cave more than the rather unoriginal designs used in Dirge of Cerberus. For those that don't remember, the cave entrance quickly leads to a circular room. In the back of the cave is a set of steps leading to a glowing altar-like area (which is where Lucrecia appears) with a clam- or pipe organ-shaped extension behind it. In the background are receding rows of pillars that start wide at the base and taper near the top. There is a heavy violet/orchid color scheme in contrast to the glowing blue of the Mako crystals in DoC.
Norton Haams – Norton is named after Nort, the devil-grass eater in Stephen King's The Dark Tower series.