--*--*--
Please sweet goddess with your powers;
Lead me to a crying star.
She's a child and lost,
Playing hide and seek,
Still just a little crybaby...
-- "Maigo" (Tonari no Totoro)
--*--*--
He still heard her cries... oh gods, how they haunted him still! He had never once heard the cries of the Planet... but he had heard her desperate cries, every night... every day... each and every waking moment of his life, there were her screams of agony and pleads for salvation.
Sephiroth was once such a strong man. Now, he looked at himself with utter disgust. Why was he alive? He was sure Strife had taken care of him quite thoroughly. No, no, that would be too merciful... Sephiroth had awoken bloody, broken, yet alive. He awoke in the Ancient Forest, for reasons beyond his comprehension. He had been 'alive' for nearly a month now, and not a single day had gone by in which he did not hear her cries.
Aerith's cries.
That weak little slip of a girl, she had died so easily at his blade. He cringed at the thought. Back then, it was not truly him... it was a clone, albeit he was the one possessing it, manipulating it to do his deeds... Jenova was to be thanked for that. No, Sephiroth had resided within a tomb of ice for the longest time, until finally his 'Mother' summoned him to what was supposed to be their finest hour, when this world would have ended and a new one begun... under his Godlihood.
But back then he was simply a spectator, letting Jenova use his abilities to kill that little girl and end her interference. He could not describe the way he had felt then, when Masamune had gutted her through and through. He felt remorse then. He knew that her blood would stain him forever, and that he would never be able to wash himself of her. Her blood. That lovely blood that had spilt so gracefully upon the marble altar, like a lamb to the slaughter.
A lamb to the slaughter, indeed. The innocent daughter died for the Planet. But Sephiroth got the feeling that all was not well, for he had heard her screams endlessly since he had first awoken.
Screams.
Her lovely screams. Her breathy gasp, her lungs desperately trying to take in air. Futile.
Her death was a work of art, and he... had been the artist. Ah, the lovely flower girl, so early robbed of her innocent little life. Silly little flower girl, giving up her life for a worthless Planet when she could have joined with him. Oh, she would have made such a lovely goddess... she would have been his Aphrodite. But no, his silly goddess gave her life up, a life better shared with him.
'Oh, my silly little Aerith, perhaps it is not too late.' Sephiroth smirked.
Then came her cries.
They were the most heartbreaking sounds he had ever beared to hear. Wrenching enough to strike sadness even in the stone heart of Sephiroth. They were pitiful, hopeless cries, begging for help beyond the grave.
They were cries he had suffered to hear for so long. Cries that tore at his soul, his mind, begging and pleading for him. Begging, pulling, tearing, rending!!
Sephiroth fell to his knees and vomited.