Behind Black Curtains
An AU, Sephiroth and Tifa fanfiction
- by Amaranthos-
Chapter 22: Dreams and Daydreams
Intellect is not a sin if one can wield it smart enough.
He recalls, anything you know too well is your weapon for the hurting. And he confesses, he enjoys the hurting. Every now and then it's a good idea to displace one's self from the inner circle of friends he carries, and sort a darker kind of fun. Displaced from normal society, as he phrases it, he embraces a different kind of dark attraction.
Wild women, dead people, the sight itself is all too dark, but it's arousing. Something in the air of blood and fright is channeling and bewildering to the senses. It twists the spine in shivers and you don't understand the rage of such emotions. It's unbelievable how strong they stir.
But he's breathing hard.
She peels back the clothing, her lewd body flashing. She licks her lips. Those wicked eyes are so naughty and they taunt him. Beaconing him in black covert calls that mesmerize any man - foolishly into her dark hex. Wild pretty thing gone mad, he thinks.
She's wild alright. Her skimpy black lingerie barely covers her voluptuous frame. Those black locks framed the vixen into something more of a goddess. Could a woman be this beautiful?
Talented is she as she saunters her frame obstructively in his path. She lies on his bed. Her red lips are wicked, and they remind him of the blood he's taken. To imagine drinking death on her lips and making love with her was to share some forbidden dark love. Eccentric by all extremes, he's loving the annotation of her hands on her body and the voices she makes. The soft purrs go darker. They descend into whimpers and moans. The coded language of love, fed him more into her lure.
He lies and she's not shy to find the buckle of his belt. Her eyes enlargen. Her lips suddenly seem to part and in a simple motion, she opens them to say…
"Die Rufus Shinra. Die!" she sends a knife straight into his chest. Repeatedly slamming the metallic object into his chest.
"Noooo!" he shouts out…
"A beast you are. Taste the blood you've soaked the earth with, murderer" she slams one last time. Her eyes filled with hate. They shine a violence so real in them. Her white teeth are gritted together tightly. The strength and conviction in her killing, absolute and righteous.
"Tifa" he pleads…
"DIEEE!"
Silently morning comes, the silent clicking of the clock discernible for this lone stranger. He sits alone. The light of a new day never discernible with the snow and rain that plagues this cursed land. He ponders silently, his eyes intently focusing on the soldiers down below. Interlace fingers rest tenderly under his nose.
His nature is contemplative today.
'It's just a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. This Great War between Black Crescents and Red Hearts is alas coming to an end.'
He notes, the war dynamics are changing and with its recent development so had the odds for Black Crescents, in their recent triumph of capturing highly advanced robotics: a Mech. Black Crescents feels affirmed in victory.
He wrinkles his forehead in retrospect; now wasn't the time to uncork Champagne bottles and throw lavish parties. The incompetent fools. This battle is more than just about the spoils of war, and odd luck… no, this war was much more than that. Rather than staying to the course by being assiduous in their duties of absolute and precise practice and concentration to the art of war – Shinra and the others dismayed it to the ray of light glittering on their doorsteps. This Mech couldn't change the outcome of this war if the scientists couldn't decrypt the language.
This technology is far too advance for the people of Black Crescents. It demands serious scrutiny, days and maybe even months of a thorough investigation. Time herself has never been a fond friend here. And as it is, as a sad reminder to be known – time was clicking by unfathomably fast. With the clock ticking, and the pieces of both empires knowing what was next, it was just a matter of time before the great battle horns are blown.
In the silence of morning thoughts are not difficult hear as they are to quiet. If only Shinra would realize.
But how could he, he was as pretty as he was stupid to war politics and dynamics. It was more than just slaying the first hapless soul with a katana… it was more than just inserting fear into the weak. There is nothing to conquer in those who are already conquered. Rather, the real esteemed prize is the conquest of taking down Red Hearts. They are the perfect enemy and in some ways more proactive and fortunate than Shinra himself could imagine.
Black Crescents, adamantly refuses to study the war and the situation unfolding, rather they were casually giving themselves a gentleman's accolade, for feigned glory. Idiots…
The battle Shinra so desires to win… will cost him, more than he's hoping due to his incompetence, and well - everyone else's.
The truth is… they didn't pay much attention to matters of urgency. When it came right down to the red print, this was a frigging war… little boys like Shinra, shouldn't be taking their father's power for their own spoilt pleasure. Surely it costs them more than arm and leg… but legacy itself..
He attunes his eyes to the snow… it's falling heavy
So deep in thoughts he doesn't notice the woman standing behind him. She leans forward and places her hands around his neck. She breathes in and whispers delicately in his ear… a morning's greeting.
He spares a tiny smirk. His vixen was awake…
She quickly retracts her movements and then in her audacity, she nimbly walks around him, obstructing his view. She breathes in deeply.
'What a world…'
She wears a translucent night gown… the pitiful material could barely hide her feline figure… her perfect back, her trim cut body, beaconing through the fabric…
"You truly are a war dog" she whispers to the glass… her breath forming a mist over the pane…
He says nothing…
"Are there any beneficiaries?" she suddenly asks. Her question itself vague…
She draws a sigh, "the war that is. Are there any beneficiaries of war, Sephiroth?" she views his reflection in the glass…
He smugly smirks. He lowers his head and whispers… "recently..yes"
Sharply, he rises from the chair, too curt for her to notice and he impales her against the wall. He presses her body firmly into the window. She blinks back, his sudden actions uncalculated. His right hand deftly pulls her gown open. She stiffens. He smirks against her white pale cheek.
His fingers touch the smooth skin of her stomach and she shivers, arching her back into his body…
His left hand guides her head to the side…
Instinctively…he leans forward and buries his head in the crook of her neck. A sweet aroma potently enters his nostrils as he breathes in her scent…
"I like to call it the spoils of war…" he sensually whispers and she hisses when she feels his nails sink into her stomach. He enjoys leaving his mark …everywhere
He gruffly pulls off her flimsy nightgown. His callused hands smoothes over her perfect torso and then over her delicately arched back. She was a very beautiful woman. Both to gaze at and to mercilessly make love with. Turning her around, he smirks at the sight of the nude woman…
He examines her and vulgarly satiates in her grown body.
She breathes in, her body rising and falling…
He grabs her hand and places it above her head…
"Do you like being the spoils of war, Lockhart?" he asks leaning forward…
Their lips touch…
"I guess you'll have to find out…" she smiles unbuttoning his pants…
He smirks…
To be continued…