26: Sephiroth's Slightly Insane Day

"... it's a better companion than none…"

-----

Sephiroth felt rings spin under his eyes the days and nights he wouldn't sleep nor eat. He found funny that his body wasn't as carved into eternity as he thought, that his skin could ever show the dawnings of bad health. But then he knew that for someone as powerful as he, the bad health was only in his head. Forever was with him; it just wasn't showing at the moment. Instead, humanity sparked in his eyes, no longer feline except when anger spurred him.

He paced and reclined in the garden patch, tempted to crush the flowers yet decidedly finding very little, but just enough, restraint against it. A spare few had already begun to wilt while left to their own devices; others started to grow wild. Occasionally, Sephiroth threw a spray of water over them, but other than that, watched them either grow free or sow rack and ruin on themselves. The mini-chaos was a nice diversion. And he enjoyed feeling the bugs and dirt cling heavily to his tangled hair as that slightest affinity to the purest of nature.

But as these two weeks dragged on, even watching the garden began to lose its flair.

He contemplated Mother, Jenova. The infectious thing in his right arm was hard at work making it its home. The wing had spread further down his limb, up his neck and halfway across his chest, gnarling and spiking the skin into something ugly. Up until now, Sephiroth had let her run rampant in his body. Although he cursed her for wanting a piece of him after his falling from grace, for now she'd have her way. But, in time, he'd take care of her. For her failing to get him the real power he'd always desired and now owned.

Soon, he'd take care of everything.

"But I can't," he finally said to himself after prolonged silence. "Or I won't? That woman would be mad. If I cared. Yet…"

He sat up amongst the flowers, huffing at the stiffness of his disfigured arm and its silent sighs at his glaring. He ran his fingers over the calloused flesh, snapped a thumb on the thorns growing distinctly from the smoothest curves.

"Why am I showing restraint? I could raze entire lands, and unearth her eventually. But she would be mad. Or she would be sad. Ha. The human emotion in her is so irritating..." With the claws steadily growing on his right hand, Sephiroth casually pawed at the dirt, sensing how soft it was between his thick padded fingers. He frowned then clenched a fist, listening to the pop of his horned knuckles. "Are you really what the Planet would be like as a person? A meek woman, of all things? Gaia…?

"I don't like talking to you," he grumbled decisively to himself. "I don't need to talk, just act. No thinking, just conquering."

This won't do…

"Drana?" Sephiroth jumped instantly to his feet at the frail, distant voice. His eyes turned to angry, feline slits as they darted to and fro. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the garden, the house he refused to sleep in, the plains as they stretched out into the distance.

Why me? Why do I keep doing wrong… ?

"Hmm. You aren't…" He snorted and awkwardly folded his arms in one another. "... you're one of her ghosts? Or one of mine?"

Silence.

"What do you want?" he questioned snidely. Then all arrogance drained from his face and voice, replaced by quiet urgency. "Wait. If you are one of her ghosts, you might know where she is. You'd certainly be more useful than everyone else if you did."

More silence.

"Talk!" he barked with knifelike sharpness.

A small shadow appeared at his feet, kneeling low amongst the flowers. Sephiroth's eyes fluttered down cautiously to the umbra, his brow furrowed in just a hint of surprise. It was indeed a spirit of some sort, weak and faded. Cowardly. His Jenova-infested arm fell slack at his side for a moment, then reached down for the shadow.

"I'm sorry... I'd been with you all this time, but... never said a thing…"

"Your voice. Who are you?" he demanded.

"Just a shadow... Still failing you and Drana."

"Tell me where she is. Now."

The shadow shifted then darkened. As it gathered shape, Sephiroth found himself more wary than he knew he should have been. While the wing on his arm gave no warning that something it found adverse was near, he himself tensed at the umbra's presence. He unthinkingly despised it. And then he remembered that natural hate he had once felt and who or what instilled it in him. He splayed his claws out, his face burning.

"What are you doing here? Wretched bitch."

"Yes, curse me," the shadow nodded. "I deserve it for my crimes, always. But now, for now, that will be the past. This is the present and... I have to see you to her."

"You must take me for a fool if you think you will ever be my-"

"Listen, please. For Drana's sake." The shadow rose to its own feet, the top of its hazy head coming to just below his eyes. As it began to lift its arms, Sephiroth stepped back out of reach, bearing a terrible mask of disgust. The woman shadow shivered dejectedly, but still took a step closer. "Can... can you despise me that much that you won't hear me out? Knowing I could be the key to finding Drana?"

"Spit it out," he said, and then warned, "but come no closer."

"W-well…"

"And if you've been with me all this time, why didn't you tell me sooner?" he hissed. "Making me suffer... I could have had her already."

"I'm sorry," moaned the shadow.

"Not good enough!"

"Listen to me," it pleaded, no more raising its voice than Sephiroth did. A nervous whirlpool appeared in the shadow's middle with a flimsy gray eye. "Listen... How can you act like this right now with Drana at stake? She, she's most likely at Meteorfall's ground zero. It's been... some time, yes, but-"

"Ground zero?"

"Midgar."

"Yes… Midgar. Midgar." Sephiroth fell silent, feeling the tension suddenly pool and drain out of the soles of his feet. He flopped down hard onto the ground, crushing a few flowers beneath him, and uprooting others as he drew in his legs to cross them. He frowned at the thought of the ruined metropolis. That had essentially been the site of his second coming, though not too ideal a place because of the remnants of Holy and Meteor sleeping there. Thinking about it made his skin crawl threefold and his wing bicker skittishly on his shoulder. The clash of energy there had been an utter pain to break through, but oddly something Sephiroth had forgotten until now. Like a pang of birth.

"Please, Sephiroth. Can't we… ?"

"Shut up," he said languidly. "So, hiding out in Midgar. Hiding... but we'll get you. Oh, and, Mother? If you live that long, maybe you'll get one last taste of human flesh."

"... Sephiroth…"

"She'll need it on her deathbed. For, if someone fails me then they should be dead. If not already, then by my hand or anyone else's. But a parting gift wouldn't hurt, for all the fun times we've had…" A long hush descended over him and the garden. Sephiroth held his breath, his eyes roaming over the hands settled in his lap, one human and one not. He abruptly laughed, belting out his bated breath, and then grunted lowly as he rose up.

That house sat before him, almost as sinister as he himself on occasion. It wasn't a good sinister. The lonely little structure seemed to bloom alienation. If things couldn't go back to the way they were just weeks ago, then he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. It would just be a failed attempt at life, one he could do without being reminded of no matter how far he went from it. And with that in mind, Sephiroth frowned as darkly as a storm cloud.

"If Drana doesn't come back with me this time, then this is goodbye."

"... Sephiroth?" Turning more than a little apprehensive, the shadow approached Sephiroth's back. Its body glowed in a brighter haze than ever. "You-"

"Simple as that," he interjected.

"I-I don't…"

----

"Hey, Tifa, did you hear? There's something going down in Midgar."

"So you're the one who's been stealing all the gossip from my bar…" The woman sneered playfully at her fellow bartender, all the while cradling a bottle of beer she'd barely taken a sip from. "Well then, what's the scoop, Johnny?"

"Salvage teams are coming back with stories of meadows out in the middle of trashed plates," he said, shakily cocking his spiky red head to one side. "More monsters, too. Scrap business is gonna blow for a while. Think you can call in the WRO for a hand?"

"Wait, meadows? I don't understand." Tifa's big brown eyes grew bigger in cluelessness. Johnny smiled a nervous smile then bent over the countertop towards her. She got a whiff of his strong cologne that smelled like flowers, something he obviously seemed to think would lure in the women if he wore it enough.

"Meadows. Y'know, like grass and flowers, the whole shebang. Now, I've been in Midgar almost my whole life, barring Nibelheim. Took a little vacay, but… Never seen anything quite like that. Ever. Oh, and pictures don't count."

"Heh... um…" Finding herself more astonished than liked, Tifa leaned back on her stool, slapped her hands on her thighs and sighed. Most Midgar citizens would have answered in nearly the same way Johnny did. So used to the polluted comfort of the slums and the legendary cities on the plates above them, these people would have been content with the fact that they would never see what green earth was like in real life, lest they ever left the city itself. And with the generally cushy lives Shinra threw at them— if it wasn't the clean, efficient comfort of a good house and well paying job, it was the albeit shady protection of the city's military and high-built walls— then blissful ignorance abounded and the desire to get out was quashed. That had generally been the way of old Midgar. But now…

"Speechless, Tif?" Johnny voiced, knocking twice on the countertop. "Don't I know it. Never thought I'd see that happening, not in a million years. Hey, maybe the Lifestream's returned to Midgar? That's what AVALANCHE always wanted, right?"

"Well," she began, "it's only been a few years since Meteorfall. I think it'd take the Planet longer than that to heal up the damage Midgar caused to the area, much less make anything grow. It's got to be something else…"

"Whatever it is, it's freaking me out, man. But I say more power to it. Except for the monsters. Screw the bitches, am I right?"

Tifa's brow furrowed in deliberation. She gripped her beer hard enough to almost make it shatter before she realized what she was doing. This sort of phenomenon was likely what the WRO needed to continue Vincent's grand search for the Shinra lab coats. She sharply waved Johnny closer. "I think I left my phone back at Seventh Heaven. Can I borrow yours, Johnny?"

"... that was hot, Tifa. Go ahead."

"…"

----

"I should dress for the occasion, shouldn't I? Should I not look good for Drana's return to me, just this once? I'll show her how much only I matter."

After having ignored hygiene for as long as he had, Sephiroth finally relented to a much needed shower. He stayed in until the water ran ice cold, then stepped out, slicking his hair back as he stood staring into the mirror above the sink. The sad shadow of Lucrecia floated in the doorway, watching him move in such a way that he almost seemed to slither. He was now full of life for the wrong reasons. Yet, as long as it returned everyone to their rightful places, it wouldn't be helped.

"Mm... I wonder if you still would've had this body if Jenova never existed here… Your father wasn't exactly a handsome man..."

"Quiet," he spat, then went back to staring at himself. The wing and its slow transformation of his body were blatant now more than ever. It fortunately oozed less but no ugliness was lost. Bright blue veins crept down his belly, like bulging wire pushed under his skin. Sephiroth had never took much stock in his own looks but now, on the verge of becoming alien, he couldn't help but realize a few things. "Thus the urge to dress up, hm?"

He'd have to ruin some clothes in order to be able to wear them. This wing of his was an utter obstacle, an eyesore. If he tried to rip it off, Mother would only grow a new one. He'd learned his lesson when it first appeared. She planned on staying in his body as permanently as she could.

"Perhaps something regal," uttered Sephiroth. "I am one with the Planet, after all."

"Sephiroth, this foolishness… But you'll never listen to me."

He took yet another minute to study his face. Jenova's influence crept along the right edge of his jaw. But that had been the least of his scrutiny. His eyes. His eyes were in a constant state of flux between human and slit. If he didn't need them, Sephiroth could have pulled them right out of his own head. Suddenly disappointed in his appearance, he groaned, "This is what I've become? Because of Mother, because of Drana? Torn between powers like this. I feel so crucial for some reason... wouldn't you agree, ghost?"

"Jenova is a parasite. How could she ever care? Drana's the one that matters…"

"For once, I will concede agreement. Mother's fallen too far from grace for redemption. Drana's been snatched from her pedestal. I have to get her back before she's tarnished beyond repair. And we can't have that." Sephiroth frowned then hung his mouth open, letting his tapered tongue trace lines over his bottom lip from one corner to the other. For one split second, he could taste the countless sips of Lifestream he'd taken. Every ounce of that life energy that came to mind made him shiver. Sharply, he pushed himself away from the mirror, back pressed to the door. "Mnh…"

"Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth glared angrily at the ghost, more for nearly embarrassing himself than it speaking his name. Thinking about that Lifestream always stoked a secret fire. But to act on it in front of a measly apparition? He had more dignity than that.

"I want to be alone," he growled, then shut the bathroom door.

"How disturbing…"