Author's note: Gast's latest letter in chapter 15 is referenced in this chapter. Since this story is only getting longer and I find that even I am forgetting things I think I'll start putting up little notes for anyone who'd like to brush up on the relevant details, without having to go fish. If you'd like me to reference something else than please notify me and I'll look it up for you.
Chapter 17: When Size doesn't Matter
Clean, white ceiling tiles.
Lying on the carpeted floor, Sephiroth traces their square lines. Unlike the cruddy tiles in the labs, there are no smudgy patterns that can hold his attention in these white washed ones. Too new, too unblemished.
"200." Comes Rufus's voice triumphantly besides him.
"You forgot the ones replaced by the ventilation grate." Prompts Sephiroth knowing that his restful couple of minutes are soon over.
"Oh, umm… Then… 196 ceiling tiles." Rufus is quick to calculate.
"Correct. Well done." The silver-haired child responds monotonously. Still looking up at the ceiling. "Then for the next question. If the ceiling were made up entirely of ventilation grates, how many metal bars would there be."
From the corner of his eye, Sephiroth sees Rufus clutch his head and he mentally settles in for a few minutes of undisturbed peace.
Sephiroth had flipped through Rufus's exercise books and had realised that Rufus's calculus abilities were not superior to his own. To spare him from the Rufus 's pestering he had come up with this method to stall the other.
"I don't want to count anymore." Says Rufus plaintively.
Pale lashes slide over green eyes, but the silver-haired boy doesn't respond, trying to savour the little time which is left to him.
Silence stretches longer than usual between them, but is nonetheless, too soon broken by the eight-year old.
"What do you usually do when your alone?" Sephiroth hears him ask.
For a moment the boy is stumped by the question. Aside from Gast, no one ever asks him about his time off.
"I watch Clouds." He finally answers softly, his eyes dilating gently at the thought.
"Really?" Through the sinister smog of Heidegger's irritation and frustration, genuine surprise and happiness reaches the younger child's sensitive nostrils.
Green eyes slide open and he slowly turns his head to take in the soft cheeks and cold but clear blue eyes of the young Shinra.
Those pale blues flicker to the carpet as he continues softly. "But there are no windows here."
Sephiroth doesn't answer. If there really had been a window he would not be watching gaps between ceiling tiles.
"Then, what else do you like doing?" Ask Rufus again, his questioning more lively.
Sighing, the unsociable child puts in a little more effort into thinking up an answer to this new question.
"Fighting" He says finally. It is the only thought that reliably stirs his soul. Fighting and Cloud.
Blue eyes light up.
"I've never heard of someone liking to fight before." His face is calm but his scent betrays his excitement. "When you say fighting, you mean the kind in the stories right?"
Sephiroth doesn't respond. He doesn't know the story the young Shinra speaks of.
Undeterred the older boy continues his questioning. "Have you fought against a lot of people?" Voice nonchalant, but scent eager.
Slowly, Sephiroth rights himself into a sitting posture as he looks at the older boy.
"No, I have never fought against anyone." He replies equally slowly. His soul sings with the voice of his companion as they sought the thrill within metal and flesh.
But Sephiroth, the five-year-old child, has never even engaged in a spar. Much to his chagrin.
"Then how do you know if you like fighting?" Rufus raises his voice accusingly, but his scent is curious.
Sephiroth gazes into cold blue before pulling up a knee to rest his chin on.
"You don't need to know." He answers honestly.
He can smell hesitation and a little disappointment in the other's scent.
"But you know some moves at least, don't you?" Rufus continues in a calm voice, no sign of his quiet eagerness on his face.
"Show me something!" The child, with a perseverance undeterred by a gods patience continues his pestering, only this time he manages to pique the silver-haired boy's interest.
Hojo's voice echoes in Sephiroth's mind. 'Especially Rufus. No Harm must come to him.'
Rufus seems to sense something in the air and inches closer, unknowingly further tempting him to defy the Professors instructions.
Sensitive nostrils are greeted by the scent of naive eagerness.
This blond, blue-eyed creature is so fragile - his soul knows. And for a mere moment, the thought whips up a cloud of maddening desire for the memory of a potent scent.
Slitted pupils gaze at it's prey, the glow from within reflecting the shattered figments of a forgotten adversary. His soul in pursuit of the musky scent of a man's sweat and blood, spiced with Mako.
The young Shinra, suddenly mesmerised by the intense gaze, draws nearer. Scent filled with awe and appreciation where others are tainted by wariness and unease.
'Especially Rufus. No Harm must come to him.'
For once, the memory of Hojo's face calms him, perhaps because the scientist had been uncharacteristically placating at the time. As the young boy's pupils dilate once again, he looks away and breaks his thrall over the other.
"Allow me to consider for a moment." He sighs softly while inwardly reining in his impulse.
He knows his desire for the thrill of battle is slowly turning into something else.
At this point he must acknowledge that his formidable patience is waring thin. He has waited for five years and knows that he must wait a few more.
But in these moments where his patience stretches to the point of transparency, a dark lust is revealed within him. A lust his soul revels in with a maddening intensity.
Yet within those shattered recollections lie grains of regret.
He will not regret this time. His will is firm, his goal is clear: to find his purpose which lies within the shattered shards of his soul. The reason for it's current state.
"So have you thought of anything?" The child's voice breaks him out of his dark musings provoking a sprinkling of annoyance. If only that moment of peace had lasted a little longer.
Sephiroth rocks onto his knees and presents an opening as he challenges. "Come at me and I shall show you."
A slight smile graces the rounded 8-year-old's face which belies the victorious joy coming from within as he lunges forward with both hands outstretched towards Sephiroth.
The silver-haired child doesn't bother to confirm what the older intends with this clumsy attack and grasps Rufus's left hand gently with his own. Guiding it past him, his right smoothly circles around the young Shinra's neck which he then folds into the crook of his left elbow, leaving the young Shinra's arms free.
Resting his head on Rufus's shoulder he holds on gently as the younger boy struggles within his restraining technique. This is the simplest one among among the ones that Sephiroth has learned. It would restrain without necessarily hurting the other - unless they hurt themselves, of course.
If he merely draws his shoulders back, however, this restraint would turn into a choke hold.
As Rufus lies with his back flush against the younger boy's chest - his hands clawing uselessly against the other's arm, his legs writhing futilely against the floor, breath ragged and cheek hot against sephiroth's own cool one - the silver-haired child reflects calmly that he can so easily turn this into so much more than a choke hold.
With the right leverage - say if he clamps his legs around the older boy's waist - he can pull his arm upwards until something gives way - probably the neck.
If he put in some effort and pulled hard enough he might even rip the head right off.
Green eyes stare blankly as these thoughts pass like the idle clouds in the fading memory of blue skies through the old Shinra mansion windows.
In spite of the morbid thoughts Sephiroth's hold remains gentle, his demeanour peaceful, even as Rufus's struggles gradually still.
He is in control.
There would be no point in breaking the boy's neck anyway, not to mention popping his head off. This child's fleeting presence in the life stream holds little meaning to him. And no doubt he might have trouble staying within Shinra, something which would be inconducive to his purpose in this point of time.
Finally, aside from his laboured breathing, Rufus lies completely still in Sephiroth's restricting embrace.
Listening relaxedly to the pulse besides his ear the silver-haired boy savers the relative momentary tranquility.
"I give up." Says Rufus breathily, and with a regretful sigh, the five-year-old releases him without further fuss.
But instead of distancing himself, the blond turns around and tackles Sephiroth - actually managing to rock him backwards before the younger steadies himself. The blond proceeds to pinch his supposed victims waist, but not hard enough for it to hurt.
"What are you doing?" Sephiroth asks, utterly baffled. There is not enough force in the fingers for the intent behind them to be pain, though there is definitely the scent of vengeance.
Cold blue eyes stare up at green. "Aren't you ticklish?"
Ticklish. Sephiroth draws a blank. His soul also draws a blank.
Curious he reaches down to press his fingers into the others waist.
Rufus stiffens with a yelp. Still somewhat baffled the silver-haired child digs in his fingers again - a little more carefully then before - and feels the boy's muscle tense as Rufus flops onto Sephiroth's lap, laughing a little hysterically in the wake of the odd stimulation.
Intrigued Sephiroth watches as the younger boy writhes, occasionally and erratically attempting to pinch Sephiroth's own waist and even armpits with little effect. His scent a swirl of acute desperation and helplessness, but all the wile the child laughs deliriously; tears streaking his cheeks and noes, eyes wild and alive with a foreign joy.
After tipping the older boy onto the carpeted floor and dodging the occasional writhing arm or leg, the younger child straddles the others belly to… ticklish? Tickle? … his waist and even ribs. Now, very much intrigued he observes as the other screams, laughs and struggles even more intensely.
Something slams loudly onto the conference desk.
Instantly, Sephiroth is on his feet looking to the source of the sudden sound.
Rufus too is quick to scramble to his feet, tear tracks still lining his face, he casts an anxious look at Heideggar who stands with both palms firmly planted on the table breathing almost as heavily as the blond and glaring fiercely at the two children.
As the stout man straightens into his imposing hight he circles the conference table, but doesn't approach. His face a sight to see to the five-year-old who watches somewhat impressed as the big man's skin phases from red into purple.
He feels Rufus sidling up besides him, unnecessarily close, with a little fear and a lot of worry emanating off of him. Idly he wonders if Rufus's face for once portrays his inner feelings.
When Heideggar finally speaks his voice is unexpectedly calm if horse with suppressed emotion.
"Here I am, keeping an eye on you - care-free children - all day. Doing my best to get some REAL work done. And what do you do?" The big mans voice deepens and rises in volume as he speaks.
Neither children answer.
"Scream and riot! Playing pranks like uncivilised whelps!" He almost bellows and Sephiroth senses a slight flinch from Rufus. The fear intensifying.
"Well then, what do you have to say for yourselves?!" Disgust coats his tone, but the smell which reaches the silver-haired child is filled with anger, frustration and vengeful retribution.
A slight prickling spreads on Sephiroth's skin as what had been previously subdued stirs once again. A smile stretches the pale child's lips as he breathes deeply in the air of animosity. The smile reaches his eyes by the time his decision is made.
"You seem a little too angered by such a small disturbance. Perhaps something else weighs on your mind?" The child's voice rings out clearly with a calm that contrasts the mood in the room. A knowing gaze stares from beneath silver lashes as he begins his search for a trigger.
"Sad you were left behind, to watch over us?" Sephiroth smirks mockingly as he recalls the man's previous rant and connecting it to Gast's last letter where he mentioned that Public safety would have a smaller role in Junon's security during the conference.
"You SOLDIER brat!" Heidegger spits out the words with extreme prejudice and starts to step forward aggressively.
Sephiroth senses Rufus flinch again. With simmering blood in his veins he thinks quickly - pushing the older boy further behind for some space before hopping easily onto the conference table.
Even standing on the table he is still well below Heiddeggers eye level. But it does little to lessen the scorching heat of glowing green eyes which watches its prey.
The big man stops short, eying the silver-haired boy warily.
Seeing as the adult still hasn't found his words, Sephiroth continues his goading. Mind racing ahead. Analysing the big man and his petty reactions.
"So it's SOLDIER which bothers you." He continues voice calm as his mind turns once again to Gast's last letter.
The Bigger man's eyes start to heat up again. A spike of anger reaching the boy through the space between them
"So it is." Sephiroth muses deliberately out loud. "Left behind because SOLDIER does your work in your place."
"What do you know, stupid brat!" Heidegger growls and The five-year-old is sure he has struck a nerve.
"Why would I not know, as the future of SOLDIER." He taunts, he knows what others think of him. Though he doesn't care himself, he will use it against them. Successfully, he thinks as Heiddeggers animosity against him rises.
"SOLDIER is stronger, faster, more resilient, more adaptable." He taunts using the words he had heard from the mouths of others. "Simply put, they are more effective."
Heidegger's trimmed black beard bristles as his expression contorts.
"How can monsters like you ever replace normal human combatants?!" He snarls, spittle flying.
Sephiroth's soul shudders in guilt an alienation, but the boy himself gives little heed to those words as he continues to unearth Heidegger's fears. For every heated word the general lets spill, Sephiroth will use as his next clue, his next blade.
"We are stepping in a new era, the era of Mako energy. The old ways will fade, replaced with what is more effective." Sephiroth does not need to think hard to find his counter argument, as he uses the very same words Shinra uses for its own innovations.
"More advance machinery is constantly being made as a more effective replacement for the old. SOLDIER is merely another side of the developments brought about by Mako energy." The child sneers as his small stature stands tall and proud on the conference table.
"With new ideas and new technology come new methods. The old ways you cling to will be cast away, as will you." The last time he had goaded another he had tried to point out the other's fear. But this time, Sephiroth will be its voice. The voice to the fear that lies beneath all of that resentment and anger.
"As you cling to your old fashioned ways and petty pride, you shall perish in the gutter of Shinra's new world." The child hisses viciously, unsheathing some of his contempt for the head of Shinra Public Security.
Something seems to snap within Heidegger as he lurches forward with a bellow.
Sephiroth's pupils narrow into slits as he enters a combat ready stance. He is ready, he'd prepared by taking to higher ground to even out the other's size advantage.
With a quiet intensity fuelled by his boiling blood and hissing soul, he watches the opening which will present itself.
And when it does he will finally sate his dark desire.
His blood sings in his ears.
His burning gaze only for his prey
"Shut your f-" The big mans words are cut short as the door behind Sephiroth slams open.
The child's sharp ears register swift footsteps on the carpeted floor and he has time to turn half way before the Turk is upon him with a thud from her knees on the table top and the creek from her weight.
Her arms crossed in front of her face, a long blade flashes in her right in a back handed grip.
The murderous intensity of her eyes sets his soul flame into an inferno. The blade dives toward his face, but his soul sings of a greater danger from behind.
With a step back the silver haired child ducks lithely, face almost brushing the table top as the Turks left arm swipes over him. Another dagger in a backhanded grip.
With no time to think he surfs on the swelling waves from his soul as he rises to meet her right arm with the blade still closing quickly in on his face.
As his fingers grasp the blond turk's forearm, they register a hard, unyielding surface instead of soft flesh.
With a brief quarter of a second to think, as green slitted eyes observe the Turks left hand reverse the blade into a proper grip and strike for his unprotected belly, he makes a choice.
Pushing the right arm away from himself, he simultaneously kicks off from the table. His soul sings within him once again of darkened skies and silver blades. He moves to the thrum within, twisting in the air to meet the wall with his feet. Eyes on the situation within the room.
The Turk is rolling over the table. Hieddegger has pulled out a gun, but Sephiroth hasn't heard the click of a safety switch. Below him to his right in the corner of his vision is a tuft of blond hair.
As his knees bend to absorb his momentum he considers his next target. Heidegger is moving for the safetyswitch, while the Turk has rolled off from the table, nocking a chair down along with her, but managing to regain her feet.
His legs tense. The Turk; she is the greater danger and is still reeling from the momentum of her roll. Hieddegger… probably negligible, there is no killing intent.
Just as the silver haired child is about to push off the wall, his ears pick up more steps from the door. Slitted pupils flick to the side in time to see a second Turk aiming a gun in his direction.
In this moment, gravity reclaims it's control and the child slips off the wall - just as a gunshot claims the room.
…
The stillness that rules over the people in the room lasts but a mere second, yet this second stretches and warps into an eternity that would dwell within their mortal hearts for many years to come.
Only a second later this stillness vanished as a brunette Turk rushes into the room with her gun pointing at Heidegger.
"Freeze!" Shouts the rookie Turk.
A little confused, Sephiroth wonders why she is aiming her weapon at the Head of public security of all people. Though Heidegger's gun was out and the safety off, it had taken him so long to get to that point.
The child doubts the so called general will be of any immediate threat before someone else chooses to act aggressively. Though Heidegger had proven to have an easily triggered temper, his finger doesn't seem to be as trigger happy.
The other two turks, who's attention hasn't wavered from him even with their colleague acting as an embarrassment, are much more dangerous.
The Turk seems to notice the oddity of her actions and mimics her senior and yet another gun points in his direction.
Calmly, the silver-haired child returns his gaze to the muzzle which had unleashed the bullet. Holding it are the familiar calloused knuckles of his hand-tohand instructor. Lifting his gaze, the masculine Turk's face is impassive, his eyes bearing an intense focus which would have had Sephiroth's blood boiling only a moment ago.
But his blood has cooled and he finds that he is no longer in the mood.
Idly he resumes watching the young brunette Turk point her gun back at Heidegger in obvious confusion, but noticing her seniors unwavering resolve she becomes indecisive.
Curiously, he tastes the air for her scent as he sees her hesitantly move her gun in his direction again. Warring emotions, confusion, a dawning horror, denial. Sephiroth can sense them all from her, but still doesn't understand why in the end she disengages and raises her gun to point to the ceiling.
"What happened here?" She demands, seeming to forget that the only ones currently lower ranked than her in this room are children. One of which is the presidents son and future heir to the company, and the other has guns drawn and blades bared towards him by the Turk's seniors and the head of Public safety.
Not that Sephiroth would even bother explaining himself to this small Turk.
And Heidegger, who might have spouted something just to defend himself and his petty pride, is as whitefaces as the knuckles clenching his firearm. Contempt sweeps through the child's eyes. This time truly his own and not his soul's. Is this, a fighter?
Suddenly, to Sephiroth's great surprise, Rufus steps in front of the younger child.
"He- He didn't do anything wrong." The eight-year-old's voice stutters uncharacteristically, voice small.
A soft hand clutches his shirt, trembling slightly against his chest. The smell of urine is in the air. Fresh and young and healthy within a mire of overwhelming terror.
Just as the brunette is about to open her mouth the beep of a telephone rings through the air. For once quick to react, the young Turk pulls out the bulky device, presses a button an presses it to her ear.
Green eyes narrow in suspicion, ignoring the two other Turks tensing as he pricks up his ears.
This moment is too convenient, to be a coincidence. Calling the only occupant in the room who has their hand's free to answer. Further more, this Turk is clearly the most inexperienced between the other two.
"Who is this?" Ask the brunette.
Sephiroth grasps Rufus, intending to push the other away from him, but stops as the killing intent towards him skyrockets. The Turks who's aim had wavered in the face of the presidents son presenting himself in front of his target, braces and locks on once again. The blond female Turk even darting two steps closer.
Rufus flinches against him, sticking himself even closer to the silver-haired child to the latter's great growing discomfort.
"Codename Zero, assigned to watch over the Turk operations in Midgard while the Head of Administrative research is off base." Sephiroth hears a confident feminine voice transmit through the phone.
"How come I never heard you were in charge." Says the newbie turk thoughtlessly, her attention on the brief commotion in the room.
"Maybe because your chicken-feed in the food chain?" The voice snarks back disdainfully and Sephiroth's lips twitch in reaction as he sees the brunette begin to splutter.
"Now listen, I've got my eye on the situation and I'll be there in 15 seconds. I want you to keep things calm until I arrive." No further sound comes through the telephone speaker, the line broken.
"What did she say?" Asks his hand-to-hand instructor, but his attention still on Sephiroth and Rufus, with his gun pointing a less vital areas with the presidents son sticking so close to his target.
"She said she's on her way." The brunette answers a little surprised.
"Where trouble appears, Zero is near." Mutters the blond woman under her voice yet still baring her blades in a ready stance."
Suddenly Heidegger puts away his gun and crosses his arms. "Three turks, and they can't even wipe their buts. What difference will a fourth one make?" He grumbles.
Just then Sephiroth's eyes flick to the door as he hears swift footsteps approaching along with a familiar tapping sound. The two Turks tense but quickly relax as they too her the person approaching through the open conference door.
In a moment a redheaded Turk strides through the door with the bearing of one with power if with her noes planted behind the screen of a portable computer open in her arm. The tapping coming from rapid one-handed typing.
She looks up briefly, and as her eyes land on Rufus she stops short.
"What are you brutes thinking! Quick, take down your weapons! Don't you see the president's son is in shock." She exclaims.
They obey, his turk instructor pointing his gun to the ceiling while the other blond goes out of a fighting stance. This doesn't seem to relieve Rufus however since he is still trembling, his breathing slightly laboured. From where Sephiroth's palm touches the boy's arm, he can feel the faint pulse beat rapidly.
"Put away your weapons! Were all part of the same company, there is no need to resort to violence when infighting." In spite of the fourth Turks, Zero's, harsh tone the two senior Turks obey mechanically.
She then Turns to Heidegger. "Sir, may I request that you move to another room." As the big man opens his mouth to retort she quickly adds. "For your own comfort of course. Room 1301R is currently unoccupied, we will bring your affairs over to you shortly."
Heidegger humps but walks out of the conference room without further fuss.
Zero, sets down her portable computer carefully and turns to fish something out of a heavy looking black shoulder bag she is beqring. "Scissors, take pictures of the paperwork and anything else that could be evidence." She fishes out a camera from her bag and tosses it to the stoic blond who catches it carefully.
"You, baby-Turk. Pick up Heidegger's baggage when Scissors is done and accompany the big shot until I come over to get his statement on this fiasco." The brunette's face twists but before she can show her talkative side, Zero suppresses her once again. "I trust you know you must not talk about what happened here until you hand in your report. Do not talk to Heidegger about it either. If he talks about it, tell him that I will record his statement as soon as I can."
With a somewhat wronged expression on her face the rookie Turk moves to gather the documents that the blond, Scissors, had finished photographing grabbed Heidegger's briefcase and hurried out of the room.
Zero glances after the brunette. "Who hired that one? She acts like the world owes her something."
"Speak for your self." Murmurs the blond Turk under her breath once again, as she snaps a picture of the knocked down chair.
Though her comment is loud enough for Sephiroth to hear he can't tell weather the other Turk heard her or not. What little of the red-heads scent has reached him, he has yet to decipher. He has seen her before on the Turk floor, but she is unfamiliar to his soul.
The short cropped blond turns towards the children and snaps a picture of the wall above them. He feels Rufus tensing against him again, but the other's trembling has lessened somewhat. To Sephiroth's surprise, after a brief hesitation the Turk snaps a picture of the both of them as well before handing the camera back to Zero.
"You go resume your post. While your at it you can write your report. You were the first on scene after all. I'd like to have something to give to the higher ups as soon as possible." Scissors doesn't even blink as she accepts her superiors orders and walks out the door.
"Fists, make a preliminary report to Malkhaz. But before that, take a look at the footage and make a quick draft." The red-head pulls out a notebook from her bag and hands it to his hand-to-hand instructor. "Key words will do."
Sephiroth watches quietly as this new element throws out commands with the irresistible force of a storm. His soul has no impression of her, but his curiosity is piqued as he recognises her excitement and amusement that contradicts the severity in her words.
As his hand-to-hand instructor, having taken a short glance at the other's portable computer, bends over the conference table to write, the red-headed Turk Zero finally turns to him.
"You, Sephiroth…" Rufus's fist clenches on Sephiroth's shirt and the female Turk trails off taking a considering look at the both of them.
"Take care of the presidents son." She finishes before turning to her computer.
Having finally received instructions, the silver-haired boy nods collectedly and looks into Rufus's widened eyes.
He had been calm and in control all of this time, but he finds himself at a loss as he realises that he holds a trembling blond in his arms which he has been ordered to 'take care of'.
'Take care of' How? His mind flickers through his previous experiences with the term, but his logic tells him he is not meant to dispose of Rufus with his identity as the Company heir.
"Just have him lie down somewhere and comfort him." His hand-to-hand instructor advises mercifully. Perhaps because of being familiar with Sephiroth and recognising the child's uncharacteristic distress.
With dilated pupils, the silver-haired child meets the serious gaze of his kicking Turk, Fists. The man's face which had been hard and unforgiving a few minutes ago - cold-blooded enough to shoot at a 5-year-old - seems now somewhat softer.
With those words he promptly leaves. The red-head, Zero, also picks up her stuff but stops short at the door to turn around, taking a long measuring look at Sephiroth.
"We are going to leave you alone here for a while, so that the president's son can be in peace. But you better behave yourself. Scissors, that crazy- I mean that blond, is right next door and will come in and take a look if anything happens." She announces with a serious face before closing the door behind her.
Though Sephiroth senses that this lady would likely enjoy trouble, he has no mind to pay attention to her.
Instead he needs to comfort Rufus. Only, how does he comfort?
He scans the room for inspiration and his attention is quickly drawn by the long conference table.
'See, adults are so tall, they don't always think about what is happening under the table where they can't see. So if ever you get in trouble, you can hide here and they'll leave you alone for a while.'
Rufus's words come to him again and suddenly he knows what he needs to do.
Looking back at the young Shinra, he gently grasps the hand clutching onto his shirt. This draws the blond boy's attention and dilated blue, look into dilated green.
Slowly the grips softens and the fabric is replaced by the younger boy's somewhat calloused fingers. Sephiroth's other hand slides down from where it had been on Rufus's arm to gently hold the other hand.
Backing away he calmly guides the shaken boy to the large conference table. gaze locked on cold blue.
As he crouches, Sephiroth's eyes flickers to a spiderweb of cracked plaster in the wall, close to the ceiling. His eyes narrow but he is quick to return his sight on to his current task. It is not the right time to consider where that bullet had been aimed.
Shuffling backwards and pulls the boy lightly beneath the table.
Lying down on the carpeted floor, Rufus curls up besides him. Though calmer now, there is still some distress remaining.
Comfort.
A faint memory of his time with Gast comes to him.
Following it's cue he reaches up to run his fingers through blond hair.
He senses surprise from the older boy, but it slowly settles as pale fingers continue their ministrations and softly glowing green gaze deeply into innocent but cold blue.
Sensing the other winding down, the silver haired boy decides to give another push.
For the first time in a while he opens himself to the lifestream. Locating the soul in front of him, he approaches it slowly and carefully, soothing and calming. Carefully introducing his suggestion so as not to leave any obvious clues behind.
"Rest." Murmurs Sephiroth softly as the young Shinra's eyelids droop, breathing evening out.
When Rufus is fast asleep - only partially magically induced - the silver-haired five year old finally allows himself to roll onto his back, letting out a big sigh.
Author's notes:
Reviews: A big thank you goes to Bloody Roses without whom, Rufus would not have been a part of this chapter. Imagine how terrible that would have been! I would also like to thank Lordybau, Bloodyangel95 and Tocasia for their feedback and encouragement in the last chapter!
This was so much fun to write!
I feel like Sephiroth's first meeting with Rufus left a shadow in his heart, when I wrote the part where he came up with math questions I couldn't help but imagining him fling a stick away and hope the dog i.e. Rufus wouldn't come back. Guess how that worked out.
You read it correctly, children have the persistence to test a god's patience. So that's why this chapter is dedicated to all the parents or child caretaker, who've managed to lived though that period in one piece. And if you lost your patience from time to time, well your only human. Naturally, you'd have to be better than Heidegger to get a pass. ;)
The first Action scene! Never written one before so do share what you think. I imagine Scissors fighting style is hard to visualise because it's so weird. But hell, I had to come up with something to match her name. Just cross your arms in front of you and go with it. It's not like final fantasy fighting is ever realistic.
Next chapter: The higher-ups return from Junon. Rufus steps up to the plate. And the fallout of this affair is decided.