Chapter 21: The Surprise of the Innocent
It is late, but Sephiroth is restless. He has been so for the past month. Sephiroth, like for many things has a sleeping schedule, however sometimes he breaks this schedule. But frequently enough that anyone would reprimand him about it.
Silver lashes slide over mako green eyes. Nostrils flare.
The scent of grass lingers in the corridors.
Occasionally Shinra employees will bear the scents from the outside world. Although some awaken echoes in Sephiroth soul, most of them he does not recognise.
Quietly the child follows the trail to indulge in the past. Grass, mako, paper, inc and disinfectant. The warmth of an embrace, the white in blue of a sky through windowpanes.
Gast is a weighty presence in Sephiroth's mind. His soul foretells ill tidings.
But he has yet to reunite with Gast since they first parted. The letters are not enough. So he passes the corridors restlessly even though it is past his scheduled bed time.
The scent of women greets his delicate noes. Gast is a man though. He hears them now, breathing heavily. Along with the sounds of sloppy eating. One of them mewls… The other whispers something with great fervour.
There are no sounds of mastication.
The child comes to a faltering stop and opens his eyes.
Soft smacking sounds scatter into his sharp ears. The laboured breathing begins to be punctuated by suppressed moans.
'What are they doing…?'
The child's gaze slowly gains focus, pupils narrowing into slits.
His soul is urges him to ignore it, but he wants to know what they are doing.
On silent feet he prowls into the office landscape, honing in on the noises and the now much more potent smell. A sweet scent lies thick in the air. He had noticed it on women before but not quite as thickly.
As he approaches the sounds only become more and more intriguing.
A lone heeled shoe, lying on it's side, peeks out in the office landscapes corridor and Sephiroth knows he is close. Glowing eyes lock on the cubicle from which the noises stem from.
He turns the corner. Pupils abruptly dilate.
One blond woman is almost sprawled on the table. Seemingly both pulling and pushing the red-headed woman who is leaning, almost lying over her. Her hand is wrapped around the other's lower back, the other hand pressing against the woman's chest. Yet her neck is craned upwards baring her throat to the the woman who has both her hands up the other's skirt and in an awkward looking position.
The blond woman on the desk gasps and arches her back, pressing her stomach closer to woman.
A sucking and slurping sound punctuates the moment and Sephiroth's eye's look back to where the redheaded woman removes her mouth from the blond beneath her. A glaring red mark is left in her wake. Her eyes are hungry and she licks her lips before freezing.
Alarm disrupts the sour sweet smell of whatever is going on and the redheaded woman jerks to look at the silver haired boy staring up at them with big green eyes. Pupils blown wide.
Sephiroth notes belatedly that he recognises her. It is that Turk, Zero.
The blond notices her partners reactions and also startles out of her state. Blue eyes turn in Sephiroth's direction a deeper red flush covers her cheeks. This time it is Sephiroth's soul who recognises her. A conflicting sense of disdain, annoyance and a very grudging respect. But there is a dissonance, she is not quite what his soul remembers.
Casting a brief glance over her apparel, she seems suitably dressed in this office landscape, looking no different from many other office clerks.
His gaze returns to the red mark on her neck. Eyes no longer as dilated, even as stress and fear begin to well in the air.
The Turk pushes away casting a smirk at the blond, a slick sound of something like lubricant reaches the boys ears as she removes her hands from beneath the blonds skirt who suppresses an "eep".
The sent of something sweet and sour thickens the air and Sephiroth's eyes are briefly torn away from the mark on the girls neck to Zero's glistening fingers.
"Don't fret Scarlet." she murmurs while licking the wet fingers with hungry eyes, but a playful scent. "Be firm, be goal oriented and all will go as you desire."
Green eyes return to the blond, Scarlet, as his soul confirms. She straightens herself smoothing her skirt self-consciously. Cheeks still retaining a deep flush. But the silver-haired boy's gaze is drawn back to the mark on her neck.
"Come now, back straight, there is no use in being ashamed. You are not in the wrong." Zero lectures the blond. Before turning and walking past the boy towards the exit.
"I believe it is past your bedtime, Sephiroth." The turk calls over her shoulder with something that sounds like a jeer in her voice. Glancing at her back Sephiroth tastes the air. Through the thick scent of whatever they had been doing he could sense that Turk's special brand of amusement.
Scarlet looks down at Sephiroth uncertainly, hesitation in her scent, but she scurries quickly past. The child's glowing eyes remain locked to the red mark on her neck even as belated exhilaration begins to colour her scent.
Then the boy is once again alone, he sweetly sour nectar much fainter now.
Slowly the boy looks at his own shoulder. Pulling on his shirt collar to bear the skin he closes his lips awkwardly on his shoulder. Thinking for he moment he tries to lick and then suck.
But when he removes his lips, the skin is unblemished with only a faint glistening from the slickness of his saliva. He pulls up his sleeves and try's again on his wrist. Sucking harder and longer. Pulling away his skin is still bare.
He tires again on his shoulder, trying to get as close to the nape of his neck as he can. But to no avail.
Sephiroth gives up. Frustration quickening his steps as he heads off to bed.
Gast would know. But his soul foretells that he will have to wait a long time for any answers.
…
It is very late when Sephiroth comes to knock on the door down a darkened hallway. Even Sephiroth is beginning to feel sluggish.
But the emptiness inside of him is awake so he can't sleep.
He has always known that he must wait for the answers to come to him. He has been patient. He is still patient.
The silver haired five-year-old nocks once again. Then listens.
Still no response.
The corridor is unlit and the building is still. Asleep.
Only Sephiroth is awake.
Alone.
The child glances up at the 'private' sign. Eyes dilated to their widest, he can make out the words even in the gloom.
Nocks again. Louder.
No responce.
He feels empty inside. He wonders if the room on the other side is just as empty.
Small fingers reach up to touch the door handle. A thin circle of softly glowing green glances up at the 'private' sign.
All is still.
Eyes flicker back to the handle. The metal is cold against his palm.
Again his gaze is drawn back to the private sign.
Slowly he leans against the door. His small hands still grasps the door handle loosely his head resting besides it, eyes staring into the paint on the door as if he can look through it. His body is plastered flat against the cold surface.
Gast has been absent for so many years. Just like his soul had promised he would be from their first parting.
Turning his head to press his ear against the surface the Silver haired boy listens for life on the other side. He hears nothing.
His child sized fist lifts again…
"Knock, knock, knock, Knock."
The sound is loud in his ear, pressed as it is agains the door.
But he seems to have been the only one who heard it.
There is still no sound his sharp hearing can perceive.
The child's hand tightens against the handle.
Slowly, ever so slowly it pulls down.
Sephiroth watches it as if the hand belonged to another.
When the handle will go no further green eyes turn to look up again.
'Private.'
He feels like he is being surveyed, which isn't unusual. Only this watcher gazes right into his heart. Judging his awareness of what he is tempted to do. What he will do.
Even though, the sign is only a sign.
Not looking away Sephiroth slowly slides his body towards the handle. Grasping it with both hands he leans carefully away from the door.
It opens on silent hinges.
Sephiroth grasps the handle on the other side, in a single move he is inside, the door closed behind him.
Total darkness. Even Sephiroth can't make anything out.
Slowly he lets the handle slide back up.
Staring at were he knows the cot should be he tries to distinguish something from the various shades of black. He is unsure.
There is no snoring or heavy breathing.
In a moment sephiroth becomes intensely aware of his own breathing and thundering heartbeat. It deafens and he can't hear anything besides it anymore.
The emptiness deepens inside of him. What if he is alone in this tiny room after all?
Slowly, hesitantly Sephiroth takes small steps forward trying to use his other senses. There is the smell of a deep sadness which has saturated into everything around him.
He tries to identify something else. A body, a living being, but doubt clouds his judgement.
He feels the cot's metal edge against his knees. He reaches out palm open. The course material registers against his skin even though he isn't truly touching it. Following the contours the child can tell there is indeed something lying beneath it.
Sephiroth tries to sense life from it, but he is unsure. Weather the heat from the blanket is from the body beauty it or Sephiroth's own body heat reflected back at him.
With the room being so narrow and the backpacks lining the other side of the wall there is barely any leg room for Sephiroth to manoeuvre closer to where the man's head should be.
He just wants to check, to make sure, and then Sephiroth will leave without disturbing the old Janitor.
Carefully he leans on the cot's metal frame and reaches a leg over to the other side. Crawling up he he tries to sense signs of life from the other. Usually this should not be a difficult task but for whatever reason his senses are failing him and only serve to betray his own suppressed anxiety.
From what Sephiroth can tell in the completed darkness; the man is lying on his back. If the man is breathing it is so shallow and quiet the boy can't pick up on it. He reaches out a hand towards the man's neck, not to touch but just to sense more clearly the body heat, the electromagnetic feedback of a beating heart.
It is a bit warm. But no feedback.
A shadow crosses Sephiroth's mind. That man he had killed so long ago. He had also still been warm.
The child's fingertips touch the man's neck.
The Janitor jerks and wakes up abruptly with a horse gasp.
Sephiroth is jostled and falls abruptly onto the man's chest.
The janitor stills as he looks down the length of his body and sees the thin circle of glowing irises staring back at him.
Silence falls between them, but Sephiorth feels inexplicably relieved.
"Sephiroth?" The janitor whisperers odd emotion's colouring his voice. But Sephiroth is not in a mind to taste the air.
"I thought you were dead." Whispers Sephiroth back, a strange emotion welling from the emptiness inside of him.
The Janitor doesn't respond for a long time. But Sephiroth doesn't mind. Instead he lets himself be rocked by the rise and fall of the man's chest. The child's fingers discreetly gather the folds of the blanket, pulling it down until the boy can rest his head on the man's night shirt.
With his ear resting against the man's breast he can hear a heartbeat. It is slow but clear. And it is not his own.
He senses the janitor let's his head fall back against the pillow.
"Why are you here?" Asks the man, finally, in his sing song accent but his voice much hoarser than usual. He doesn't sound angry, only tired.
Sephiroth relaxes on to the body he is straddling.
"I saw two women doing something to each other, but I don't know what." Blurts Sephiroth, just saying the first thing that comes to mind. The janitor doesn't respond other than letting his breast rise and lift the child higher than before, to let out a slow breath. Sephiroth takes it as a cue to continue.
"One of them had her mouth on the neck of the other and it left a red mark." There was that sour sweet scent which had been particularly potent, but he wasn't sure if he should mention that. He wasn't sure if it was something humans could smell.
There was a long pause and Sephiroth noes twitched. The janitor's scent has changed into something he can recognise.
Embarrassment.
Sephiroth looks up at where the janitor's head should be in the darkness.
"This matter… You will understand after a few years." Croaks the old man.
Disappointment fills Sephiroth. The concept that knowledge will come with time is one he understands to some extent. He knows his soul knew what Zero was doing with that woman Scarlet. But he doesn't understand it.
All of a sudden a burning anger light's up in his chest. Retaining information, his soul whispers. Frustration entwines and awakens a desire within him. Pupils constrict. At the same time Sephiroth tenses his limbs. He is in control.
Sephiroth knows this thirst, this hunger. He'd felt it during the Heidegger incident and many times before. But he won't harm this old man beneath him.
The janitor must sense something from him because he tenses too, drawing his arms out from beneath the blanket with scent of awakening alertness. But then the janitor relaxes letting his head fall back.
Even in the darkness, Sephiroth can sense the old man's throat is bared as if in surrender.
The boy lowers his head and rests his forehead back onto the Janitors chest. He will not hurt this man. Not this night, anyway.
Feeling more relaxed he does allow himself to impulsively bite the nightshirt with lingering resentment.
Though Sephiroth had never done anything like it before, he does feel slightly vented afterwards and turns his head to rest again on the man's chest.
The janitor had been the one to tell him it was common for children to be petty. Gast had implied it too.
Listening to the slow heartbeats Sephiroth let's his limbs curl more closely to the old man. He is a little warm. It reminds him of a time passed. Of blue skies and white clouds and warm smiles.
"You should sleep in your own room." Comments the janitor.
Sephiroth is quiet for a long moment, letting himself rise and fall with the tide of the man's breathing.
"I miss Gast." The child whispers.
The darkness shelters their silence once again.
Sephiroth senses one of the Janitor's arm's move hesitantly. After a pause, the weight of a hand rests on the young child's back.
Mako eyes close slowly. Sephiroth takes whatever comfort he can from this man's sad scent and feeble warmth, to fill the void within.
…
Sephiroth doesn't know how long he had been lying on the janitor but he was drawn back to awareness by the janitor sitting up slowly and jostling him gently.
"Sephiroth, you mustn't stay. Go sleep in your own bed." The janitor murmurs.
In his groggy state, his soul provides him a faint answer to the scent which colours the sadness.
Compassion.
Without thinking too deeply Sephiroth climbs off of the janitor and his cot and walks off to his quarters, half asleep already.
./.
Nick's eye's meet Sephiroth's from where he is leaning against the wall outside of their usual training room.
The child tastes the air. Nervousness. Doubt. Curiosity.
A smile quickly warms the SOLDIER's lips.
"Hey there little guy!" He calls as he saunters over to squat besides the five year old.
"Today is going to be a bit of an experiment." Grins Nick with apprehensive anticipation in his voice.
"Oh." Laments Sephiroth. He sometimes enjoyed his training sessions with Nick. But if It is going to be an experiment today then it'll probably end up being a dull experience. Scientific protocol has always been a long tedium for Sephiroth.
He senses Veld stiffen behind him, a complex of suppressed conflict arising. Hesitation and a different sort of doubt begins to emanate from the man crouching besides him. The boy glances at the SOLDIER. His smile has stiffened and his eyes no longer mirror his lips. The beginning's of a frown between his thick brown eyebrows.
The Captain of SOLDIER stands quickly and strides towards the training room.
"I was a bit hesitant at first but your previous instructors tell me that you have practiced with full-sized weapons before, so I guess we can give it a try."
The boy's eyes narrow at the mans words and he follows, now curious in spite of himself of what is to come.
He casts a final glans towards Veld who's expression is inscrutable. They are in a public place after all, especially since there are a group of SOLDIER's peering semi-surreptitiously into the corridor.
The training room door slides shut behind the child with a hiss and click.
Nick is standing by a stand the boy hasn't seen before. Approaching it he sees two long double-edged broadswords.
Taking one of them and planting the tip against the floor gently, Nick smiles softly towards the pale haired child, who's eyes have narrowed into slits.
Sephiroth is aware of the discomfort his eyes awaken in the people around them. He senses Nick's lingering unease, but there is an added warmth to his scent when he sees Sephiroth's eye's constricted in excitement.
Because Sephiroth's soul recognises this sword.
"This is the standard SOLDIER sword which as been developed for new recruits." The man squats before the sword.
"Shinra's weapons development have been with SOLDIER to discover what weapons work best with us." Explains Nick as the boy approaches the weapon which is as tall as himself.
"Although a lot of more experienced SOLDIERS pursue and experiment with a second fighting style we have found that this kind of long broadswords generally works well with soldier enhancements." Explains Nick with enthusiasm. "Though Soldier's can do a lot of damage with their fists alone, there is a high risk of them hurting themselves, especially for the new SOLDIERs."
Pale childish like fingers touch cold metal. Running his hand down the blade he lets it's song vibrate through his bones. It is not the companion which echoes within his soul, but it is none the less, familiar.
"Generally, the added weight of the blade helps us take more advantage of our SOLDIER strength- be careful there, little friend…" Nick broke of abruptly as Sephiroth began fingering the swords edge.
"This is a real sword, although the edge on this one is a bit blunt it can still cut through someones skin." Lectures the SOLDIER severely.
Green eyes turn to look slowly at mako blue. Why does this man stop him on account of this matter? Sephiroth would need to try a lot harder to cut his own skin.
A flicker of uncertainty passes through the man's scent before he clears his throat.
"I know that sword is very big, and thought about finding you a smaller sword to start with, but your Sword instructor said you might like to have a go with a longer and heavier blade." Continues the man smoothely, flicking a brown curl from his face.
Setting down a knee on the ground, Nick picks up the blade, placing the flat of its blade in his other palm. Holding it out towards the silent child he grins wildly.
"As the captain of the 13th squad, Ragnerock, of SOLDIER, I present to you, your first sword." Sephiroth tastes the air. The man smells nervous, excited and a growing embarrassment wells up in the air as the boy's gaze stays fixed on the SOLDIER and not the sword.
Nick gestures once more with the sword lying across his palms.
Taking the hint, the boy looks down at the silver blade.
Small fingers reach towards the hilt. It is so wide his fingers don't even manage to wrap fully around it. Never the less, Sephiroth merely tightens his grip and lifts the sword which is as tall as he. Whitening nucleus the only indication of the strain.
Nick stands up and steps away grin still on. "Give it a few swing, get used to the length and weight." Instructs the man.
Feeling the weight on his wrist, which in turn pulls his shoulder joint and adds a new strain in his lower back Sephiroth adjusts his posture as his soul mandates.
His soul knows this burden. Although not quite the same it is more similar than anything he has felt before.
The child's foot slides back somewhat, knees flexed slightly waist straight and centred. Back aligned and both small hands grasp the hilt and bring it up in an angle over one shoulder. His toro shining with it.
A defensive stance which promises an aggressive counter. Or if he lifts the tip, an aggressive opening attack.
Deflect. thrust. Thrust. Thrust. deflect, step forward and one handed swing. pivot, double handed revers grip. Step forward, block. Step forward, thrust. Changed grip, thrust. One handed thrust. Upward slash. Horizontal slash. double grip. diagonal slash. Swing bak into the defensive stance.
His muscles flex and relax rhythmically. Letting the centrifugal face carry the blades weight then sensing to master it's momentum into another course.
The blade sings to him.
It's voice is dull, not like the one which echoes in his soul. But it nevertheless speaks to him through the humming in his bones.
It is not the same, he fumbles sometimes because of the weight, or the grip or his instincts alerting him to his souls habit to grasp the second edge. But it is close enough.
He's practiced many other combat forms, some of them even with Nick. But nothing is like the sharp steel in his hand.
Pupils narrowed in to a narrow slit. Mako eyes glow brightly. Fractured shadows flicker around him. Broken sounds ring in his ears. Illusory scents tease his noes. His souls sings a dissonant harmony in remembrance. He dances to it's tune, together with his new companion.
…
"Here, this is for you."
A silver key dangling on a string sways in front of the child's face. Green catlike eyes slide from left to right, following the key's movements.
Sensing amusement and anticipation from the Captain of Ragnarock, Sephiroth glances up at the smug grin far above him.
"It's the key for your locker. Your not allowed to bring your sword out so you'll need to keep it here."
Surprise echoes through Sephiroth, receiving a sword is one thing, but a space of his own no matter how small it is, with its own key is another matter entirely.
"Where is it?" Ask the boy, the brightening of his eyes betraying his interest as he receives the gift.
"It's this locker here, 507" The SOLDIER saunters over to one among a dozen of sturdy looking lockers and taps on it casually.
"They're reinforced to stop SOLDIERs from accidentally breaking them. Have a look inside.
Following the man, Sephiroth caresses the thick metal which whispers it's resilience through his fingers. Reaching up with the key, he is just able to insert the lock of the locker which is as tall as a grown man.
"I have a spare key, just in case, but try not to forget it. I put a string on it, so you can hang it around your neck if you want. Maybe you-" Nick prattles on as Sephiroth lets the door of his of his own privet space swing open. He is listening, of course, he had already expected there to be a spare somewhere. Even if there hadn't, the Janitor had mentioned once that it wouldn't stop those who really wanted in.
There are shelves at the bottom of the locker. A space beside it which seems meant for tucking weapons away, another set of shelves hang far above his head and a rail, probably meant for clothing, is welded underneath it.
Even if there is a spare key, it is still a space where he can squirrel things away, where Hojo can't get at them. Not, unless he goes through Nick or the Turks.
Sephiroth eyes the pegs that might have been meant to hold weapons, but they are clearly designed with an adult in mind. Sephiroth could place his sword to hang on the pegs if he grabs the sword by the blade. But Sephiroth's training tells him this is bad practice.
An idea strikes sephiroth, without further ado he tightens his back handed grip on the hilt of his new sword and hops easily onto the shelf in his locker from where he simply slides the sword into it's place.
Nick breaks off mid spiel in reaction.
Ignoring the older SOLDIER, Sephiroth glances at the rail above. Though he lands softly on the shelf, it doesn't feel as sturdy as the locker's outside and he doesn't really want to risk denting it over time. Placing his hands on the sides he lifts his legs up to brace them gently on each side of the locker wall. After a quick evaluation of the material and structure he lunges upwards to grab the sturdy rail. It would probably be easier to reach the rail from the floor outside, but it's not much more of an effort regardless.
Lifting himself easily, the five-year-old boy peers into the shelf at the very top. He can put his letters from Gast here. They were currently in a box under the bed in his sleeping quarters. But he knows that Hojo sometimes goes in there and had probably read all of his letters even though he no longer gets them directly from the Turks.
Sephiroth has tolerated it until now because he gets to reads them before that man does, but now he has a place of his own to keep his things. Not that it will matter anymore, the child thinks bitterly to himself. Who knows when Gast's next letter would reach him.
"Having fun?" The voice is familiar but Sephiroth can't pin point it immediately.
Looking back he finds himself eye level with blue mako eyes set into the square but soft featured face of Annael Hewley.
The man has a small smile on his face as he watches the boy sticking partially out from the top of his locker.
Green eyes slide to the red clad hilt peeking out from behind the man's broad shoulders. Without a word the child hops down from the locker.
"Annael, how was the mission." Calls nick cheerily.
"Captain, Mission successful, minor injuries sustained by a fellow SOLDIER." Responds Annael. He salutes in a relaxed manner, but his eyes are serious when he looks at the other SOLDIER.
"Did Clayton sprain himself again?" Sighs Nick, a light tone in his voice, but there is concern in the air.
Sephiroth glances at the two men before his eyes lock back onto the sword behind the man's back.
"How about you?" Asks Nick seemingly without really caring. Sephiroth ignores the dialog and approaches Hewley. Slit pupils fixed on the metal peeking from between the SOLDIER's legs.
"A bit achy, but nothing serious." The boy hears the vague response, but he is already mostly listening to his soul whisper forgotten stories he can't quite grasp.
The buster sword.
"You sure it's not just muscle pain from lugging that huge slab of metal around?" Jokes Nick, the cent which wafts over is halfhearted.
Sephiroth wrinkles his noes, the feedback around him is distracting him today. He doesn't really care what they are talking about, it has nothing to do with Cloud after all.
All of a sudden, his pupils constrict.
That is it, this sword is a clue. It possesses an integral connection to is deepest desire.
He want's to hear it sing for him.
A pale hand reaches out for the cold metal, but the SOLDIER sidesteps.
Anger thrums in Sephiroth's veins but he keeps a tight leash on it. Carefully, he lifts his brightly glowing eyes to stare up at the dark haired SOLDIER through his silver lashes.
Annael looks at him oddly, concern and worry briefly passing in the air.
"Oh, you wan't to see my sword again?" Queries the dark-haired-man with a deliberate slowness. There is a wariness which he emanates.
Bright mako glow flashes with Sephiroth's want.
The tall SOLDIER gives a stilted chuckle before pulling off the sword from his back, seeming to put quite a bit of effort into it. He brings it around an plants the tip against the ground with more grace than he had wielded it last time.
"I can't believe that you're using the weapon harnesses weapons development are experimenting with. Those things are a menace." comments Nick. "Better not to use them at all if you ask me. I've seen SOLDIERs swords drop from their backs or have the sword tangle in their legs. There was even a SOLDIER in the 9th squad who kept getting shocked by his. And another in the 4th squad cut his, uh, -flank -on his own sword."
Sephiroth let's the SOLDIER prattle go over his head as he stares mesmerised at the blade, his surge of anger assuaged. Pale fingers reach out to trace the grooves, his soul echoing faintly remembered lines along side him.
Again, he lets the memory of piercing pain shake his body. This is cloud, it must be.
The child casts his head back, savouring the ecstasy transmitting through his soul. The all consuming, but forgotten purpose… Cloud.
"It's more convenient than going to the locker every time, besides, they'll get it right event- Sephiroth… are you alright?" Annael breaks off with a frown on his face. Sephiroth lets his burning eyes drift to the SOLDIER. Still indulging in his soul's lingering obsession, a slight curving of his lips is the only reply.
"You really like the buster sword, don't you?" Injects Nick with his customary smile, having come to interpret the child's constricted pupils as happiness. "Maybe you'll want to use one of those when you get older."
Sephiroth lowers his head to look back at the familiar blade before him.
"This sword?" He asks his soul.
An indistinct silhouette after silhouette is juxtaposed one over the other in confusing echos, distorted voices colours. All different, but also similar. All familiar to his soul.
"No. This sword belongs to another… No. Others…" Pale brows furrow in frustrated confusion as he stares hard into the metal.
'What… Who… is Cloud?'
Confusion and a dash of unease reach Sephiroth's senses along with a faint happiness.
Sephiroth looks up and around, quickly spotting Veld at the far end of the lockers.
"Looks like your Turk escort has come to get you. See you next week then kid." Remarks Nick with good cheer.
"Don't forget to lock your locker." Reminds Annael gently.
The pale haired child casts a glance at the two SOLDIERS, and a lingering look at the buster sword which the dark-haired man slings onto his back again. Then turns to close his locker without a word.
Hesitation emanates from Annael along with a rising disapproval, but Nick claps him on the back and they move away.
"How is your sword coming along." Sephiroth hears Annael ask Nick after a pause as they walk of.
"It's still in the works, but it's going to be something to see when it's done." Responds Nick with the same upbeat voice.
Sephiroth pulls out the key of his locker. Then looks at the string which is attached to it.
His instructor had suggested he put it around his neck, but Sephiroth thinks it's a stupid idea. It would be like asking someone to try to strangle him with it. Making a few loops he slips it onto his wrist. Shaking his hand a few times, he ends up deciding to tuck the key under the string against his inner wrist.
He is unaccustomed to the sensation, but he would rather keep his key close.
"It's nice to see you talk to others more." Comments Veld who approached the child when the SOLDIERS left.
"I do, do I?" Responds the child disinterestedly, beginning to walk towards the exit without looking at the adult.
Sephiroth still doesn't understand why Veld cares.
Author's notes:
comments: A special thanks goes to Lodibau, who suggest Sephiroth come across office… eh… can't remember what they said exactly but you get the idea. So if you enjoyed this scene send your well wishes to him. Another big thank you goes to tocasia and bleedingangel95 Morgana sapphire raven who consistently share their thoughts on the new chapters. Patrik the observer and bloodshound who lefts some reviews on the the last chapter. It means so much to me.
At some point I was writing the last part of this chapter, wondering if I would have to split the scene into the next chapter when I realised I'd already written all that I had planned to in this one. Yay! Although this chapter might seem a bit fillery to some, but there are at least 3 foreshadowings of 3 separate sub plots or arcs in the future story (some farther away than others. One of them's maybe going to feature in the next chapter). This story also leans heavily on character growth, so small moments like these are pretty important in the grand scheme of things.
It's amazing how so many interesting details, like the harnesses, come about because of *couch* filling plot-holes *cough* uh... bulshitometers going off?...
Update: I'm going to gradually be adding dates in this story and have already begun. It's nothing worth going back to read, but just something to helps me and the reader situate the events in the time continuum (and also, just how crazy Sephiroth's growth is the first few years of his life). I have a pretty good feeling for the approximate time the various things are happening in this story, but I may be prone to change the dates by a few month or so from time to time if I realise a certain time span doesn't make sense.
Next chapter: Gast's death and a baby sitting session with Rufus (If I can fit it in)