From the author of
"An Autobiography of Vincent Valentine"
Phoenix Down.
Phantom Wall Devils: A tale of Sephiroth
Part: Tau
Yud
"Now is the winter of our discontent... Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries." (King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1. William Shakespeare)
Sephiroth didn't return to Mideel that night. He spent the night out under the stars- little of it sleeping.
He talked to himself, and to the stars.
They listened.
He sung out loud to himself and to the treetops.
His thick, tenor voice stuck to the sticky dawn sky.
He acted like a dramatic thespian as he sang, only to simply amuse himself and wash away his body's angst.
Singing made him feel better and more at peace with himself.
He sung to a tune he made up to the words of King Lear.
He acted them out as he went, theatrically waving his hands in rhythm with his vibrato voice.
"I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up... Why,
I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
unless to spy my shadow in the sun..." (King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1. William Shakespeare)
His spirits started to rise as his song rose to the tips of the forest. He swung around the tree trunks as if in a euphoric stupor.
He didn't care if anyone or anything was listening.
He didn't care about anything anymore.
He let it out in a pleasurable bellowing song. His lungs and pipes shook in the made-up melody.
He stopped suddenly, and considered how stupid he must have been acting.
He looked up, and saw the golden hues shyly spy upon him through the canopy. He smiled sadly.
He hadn't slept, ate or even peed in hours.
He jumped off the tree roots, and let go of the trunk he was swinging on.
He fell into the leaves and twigs and underbrush with a crunch.
While coiling his pale, shaking fingers behind his back, he slowly began to wander through the forest-- only now- humming quietly.
As morning approached, the whole forest slowly seemed to be folding into stillness. The nocturnal animals and their noises began to fade away.
The velvet blues mixed with the golds and pinks of morning time, and the sounds of waking animals blended in with the crispy sounds of his footsteps.
He stopped a moment to rest. He wasn't sure how far he meandered from Mideel.
He paused. The sound of some sort of crunching lingered.
Something large...
"SEPH!!??"
It was his name... someone was calling his name.
Sephiroth didn't feel like responding. He unclasped his fingers, stopped humming, and shoved his hands deep into his trench coat pockets.
Although the forest was topical- he felt cold.
As the sun progressed to roll further into the sky- the day would gradually get much hotter.
"Sephiroth! General SEEEEPPPHHH...!? God... where the fuck are you..."
He stopped, and leaned against a huge white tree.
'Fine,' he thought to himself bitterly- the euphoria or not caring wore it's magic off. 'Come and fucking find me. I don't care.'
Sephiroth was staring at his large feet when Art appeared around the corner of the white tree.
"Jesus. Here you are. We've been looking for you all night. Your girlfriend got worried when you didn't come back after a couple of hours."
"Well, you found me."
"Was that you singing? That's how we found you. We heard your voice echoing, and Katrina... uh, look, man. I'm sorry."
Sephiroth looked up.
"Sorry about what?" He snapped.
"When you left, god. Uh, she took a pregnancy test."
"JESUS! Look, Art, I don't need this now, and I'm pissed at her."
Art paused. He never heard Sephiroth use that sort of language before.
"Ok, look, she just told me that she was getting sick. Ok? I can deal with that, ok? But, she's seriously sick. Ok? And..." Sephiroth stepped out from behind the huge tree.
"She didn't want to hear about any of MY problems! NO! And... When I tried talking to her, Ok... look..." He sighed, and pressed his hand to his face. "Why didn't she tell me this BEFORE!?" His voice flexed to a flat, annoyed tone.
"Because. She wasn't sure if she was for sure or not. And, look, man- she KNEW that you were going to react this way. She knew you were going to be pissed- and it just adds to all your problems- that's what she said. Exact words. Swear to god. She said it was too much... She didn't want to tell you, 'cuz... she wasn't sure if she was or not... And... and... you weren't going to take it well..."
"...Shut up, Art. Shut up, and stay out of it." Sephiroth turned, and began to walk away.
Art stood there for a moment, and stared at him. Then, he pushed up his silver glasses and began to trot next to him.
"Sorry man."
"Sorry?! Sorry-man!? 'sorry' isn't going to make Kat not pregnant. 'Sorry,' isn't going to make Kat not SICK. 'Sorry,' isn't going to save the life of MY NEW CHILD... 'Sorry,' isn't going to save ANYTHING. 'Sorry,' isn't going to make my life any better! Sorry isn't-"
Art was silent as he walked.
Sephiroth glanced at him, and his face softened.
"Sorry..." Sephiroth muttered.
"An Autobiography of Vincent Valentine"
Phoenix Down.
Phantom Wall Devils: A tale of Sephiroth
Part: Tau
Yud
"Now is the winter of our discontent... Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries." (King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1. William Shakespeare)
Sephiroth didn't return to Mideel that night. He spent the night out under the stars- little of it sleeping.
He talked to himself, and to the stars.
They listened.
He sung out loud to himself and to the treetops.
His thick, tenor voice stuck to the sticky dawn sky.
He acted like a dramatic thespian as he sang, only to simply amuse himself and wash away his body's angst.
Singing made him feel better and more at peace with himself.
He sung to a tune he made up to the words of King Lear.
He acted them out as he went, theatrically waving his hands in rhythm with his vibrato voice.
"I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up... Why,
I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
unless to spy my shadow in the sun..." (King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1. William Shakespeare)
His spirits started to rise as his song rose to the tips of the forest. He swung around the tree trunks as if in a euphoric stupor.
He didn't care if anyone or anything was listening.
He didn't care about anything anymore.
He let it out in a pleasurable bellowing song. His lungs and pipes shook in the made-up melody.
He stopped suddenly, and considered how stupid he must have been acting.
He looked up, and saw the golden hues shyly spy upon him through the canopy. He smiled sadly.
He hadn't slept, ate or even peed in hours.
He jumped off the tree roots, and let go of the trunk he was swinging on.
He fell into the leaves and twigs and underbrush with a crunch.
While coiling his pale, shaking fingers behind his back, he slowly began to wander through the forest-- only now- humming quietly.
As morning approached, the whole forest slowly seemed to be folding into stillness. The nocturnal animals and their noises began to fade away.
The velvet blues mixed with the golds and pinks of morning time, and the sounds of waking animals blended in with the crispy sounds of his footsteps.
He stopped a moment to rest. He wasn't sure how far he meandered from Mideel.
He paused. The sound of some sort of crunching lingered.
Something large...
"SEPH!!??"
It was his name... someone was calling his name.
Sephiroth didn't feel like responding. He unclasped his fingers, stopped humming, and shoved his hands deep into his trench coat pockets.
Although the forest was topical- he felt cold.
As the sun progressed to roll further into the sky- the day would gradually get much hotter.
"Sephiroth! General SEEEEPPPHHH...!? God... where the fuck are you..."
He stopped, and leaned against a huge white tree.
'Fine,' he thought to himself bitterly- the euphoria or not caring wore it's magic off. 'Come and fucking find me. I don't care.'
Sephiroth was staring at his large feet when Art appeared around the corner of the white tree.
"Jesus. Here you are. We've been looking for you all night. Your girlfriend got worried when you didn't come back after a couple of hours."
"Well, you found me."
"Was that you singing? That's how we found you. We heard your voice echoing, and Katrina... uh, look, man. I'm sorry."
Sephiroth looked up.
"Sorry about what?" He snapped.
"When you left, god. Uh, she took a pregnancy test."
"JESUS! Look, Art, I don't need this now, and I'm pissed at her."
Art paused. He never heard Sephiroth use that sort of language before.
"Ok, look, she just told me that she was getting sick. Ok? I can deal with that, ok? But, she's seriously sick. Ok? And..." Sephiroth stepped out from behind the huge tree.
"She didn't want to hear about any of MY problems! NO! And... When I tried talking to her, Ok... look..." He sighed, and pressed his hand to his face. "Why didn't she tell me this BEFORE!?" His voice flexed to a flat, annoyed tone.
"Because. She wasn't sure if she was for sure or not. And, look, man- she KNEW that you were going to react this way. She knew you were going to be pissed- and it just adds to all your problems- that's what she said. Exact words. Swear to god. She said it was too much... She didn't want to tell you, 'cuz... she wasn't sure if she was or not... And... and... you weren't going to take it well..."
"...Shut up, Art. Shut up, and stay out of it." Sephiroth turned, and began to walk away.
Art stood there for a moment, and stared at him. Then, he pushed up his silver glasses and began to trot next to him.
"Sorry man."
"Sorry?! Sorry-man!? 'sorry' isn't going to make Kat not pregnant. 'Sorry,' isn't going to make Kat not SICK. 'Sorry,' isn't going to save the life of MY NEW CHILD... 'Sorry,' isn't going to save ANYTHING. 'Sorry,' isn't going to make my life any better! Sorry isn't-"
Art was silent as he walked.
Sephiroth glanced at him, and his face softened.
"Sorry..." Sephiroth muttered.