Chapter One: Glamour
Shinra Headquarters towered over Midgar like a monolith of power, its obsidian glass and steel spine cutting through the smog-laden night. From the backseat of a gleaming white limousine, Rosalind studied its looming silhouette, a fortress built on wealth and secrets. The hum of the city faded as they neared, replaced by the rhythmic click of her gloved fingers drumming against the armrest.
She had argued against the ostentatious car—mother-of-pearl inlay on the chrome was beyond excessive—but now, as they glided toward the entrance, she found an odd comfort in its extravagance. They belonged here, at least for tonight.
A warm hand squeezed hers, steadying the tremor she hadn't realized had set in.
"You're ready," Perrine assured her, voice threaded with conviction. "We've prepared for every scenario. Every variable. There's nothing we haven't accounted for. Tonight, we win."
Rosalind relaxed her shoulders, smoothing her gloves into a light clasp in her lap. "Thank you, Per. Yes…You're right."
"And even if things don't go according to plan, your dress will at least be enough to place you in tomorrow's tabloid," Perrine added smugly. "That will count for something, at least."
"We can't waste all of your hard work," Rosalind agreed with a thin laugh, "though I'm ashamed to say I've grown rather unaccustomed to–"
"–Structure? Boning? Running a comb through your hair?"
"I was going to say satin, but it appears I've lacked in my appearance lately," Rosalind responded with a touch of ire. She shifted in her finery, feeling grotesquely overdressed. "I like my cardigans, you know."
Perrine gave her a flat-eyed look.
"All that is behind you now," she reminded her sternly. "If we're to succeed, there can be no more hiding in the shadows. You must become the next starling of Midgar. Our research depends on it."
Rosalind caught her reflection in the window of the limousine. Her hair, newly cropped at her chin, had been oiled and pressed into soft finger waves that fell gently against her temples. Her lips, which were stained a deep burgundy red, matched the kohl lining her eyes. She was draped in a floor-length coat with white gloves and a white fur stole. Perrine had done everything in her powers to transform Rosalind into an ermine, demonstrating the extreme dexterity of her talents by using anything she could salvage in the manor's linen closet. They could barely afford the limousine and chauffer as it was, let alone an haute couture dress. But, together, they managed to find a way to give off the illusion of luxury.
For tonight at least.
Please let this exposition go smoothly, Rosalind prayed as they reached the formal entrance to Shinra Electric Power Company. The central portico was lit up with attendants in black-and-white livery who were quick to open car doors and usher patrons inside.
"Remember our cue," Rosalind said in a hurry as an attendant approached her passenger door. "While we're inside, we'll have to behave as employer and employee."
"Sure thing, Boss," Perrine saluted with a grin.
In contrast, Perrine looked unassuming in her dark uniform. A simple blazer and black slacks – a sharp contrast to her otherwise more fetching attire. Her red hair, normally worn in wild braids that ran the length of her back, was coiled into a twist at the base of her neck. Quiet, restrained, humble.
The bookish master and her flashy apprentice. If only their roles were reversed, Rosalind thought with a touch of irony. Then, they wouldn't have had to go to such lengths for this ruse.
"Good evening, ma'am," said the male attendant with a proffered hand, "may I escort you to the ceremonial hall or are you waiting for members of your party to arrive?"
Rosalind slipped out of the car, letting the ivory train of her dress flow over the polished pavement as she withdrew the invitation from her coat pocket. "I am here as a guest of the director."
"Ah, very good. This way then," he ushered her through the glass doors where a flurry of guests were congregating. The cold night air was kept at bay by the sultry warmth of several braziers. Perrine kept close to her side with hands clasped politely in front of her. Cold and austere as it was, Rosalind could not deny the intricate beauty of the main lobby.
Years had gone by since she had last stepped foot on this foreboding campus. It sparked in her a feeling of unease, entering the belly of the beast once more. Afraid they would have to mingle awkwardly with the other guests, Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief as she caught sight a familiar face.
"Ah, there she is," a man greeted her, crossing the ornate lobby in a brisk stride. "Doctor."
"Director Tuesti," Rosalind greeted him warmly. "How kind of you to meet me here."
"Of course. We've made changes to the reception tower since you were last here," Reeve explained with a cordial smile. He was dressed in his characteristic blue suit, dark circles under his eyes. "The Board of Directors were curious to learn you had accepted my invitation. You will have a captive audience this evening."
Rosalind quelled her nerves with a confident grin. "And the President?"
"In a charitable mood," Reeve laughed lightly. "After the quarter we've had, every guest may very well walk away with tickets to the Gold Saucer."
"I am pleased to hear this," said Rosalind, truly meaning it. Midgar often swayed to the temperamental whims of President Shinra. She shared a look with Perrine who remained docile and pleasant at her side.
The Director of Urban Planning led the way to a corridor of glass elevators. Stepping inside the cabin, Rosalind took a moment to stare at the bottomless pit bellow her heels and remembered her childlike wonder at the sight. Uncle, I'm scared. What if we fall? A warmth spread to her cheeks as she recalled her uncle tricking her into thinking they were trapped inside. But as quickly as the memory came, it was gone, replaced by a grim determination.
Mako-powered technology had an immediacy to it that was characteristic in the way they shot up forty floors in the span of mere seconds, leaving Rosalind and Perrine slightly unsteady as they stepped out into another spacious hall.
"Welcome to the Crystal Rotunda," said Reeve with a sweep of his hand.
Rosalind and Perrine stared in awe at the windows, which were floor-length and transformed the ballroom into that of glass house. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceiling, their golden glow catching the swish of silk gowns and the glint of raised champagne glasses. There was a polished marble dance floor and red carpet runners that surrounded a marble colonnade. A full orchestra was stationed off to the side, playing a soft waltz as guests gathered for drinks and hor dourves. All of the wealth, power, and prestige condensed into one glorious night of indulgence.
Beautiful, Rosalind acknowledged with hardened expression.
And all of it powered by greed.
As her eyes traveled over the crowd to the rotunda, Rosalind froze at the sight of President Shinra standing with a flute of champagne, observing the gala over the marble balustrade. He was dressed in a white tuxedo with a golden watch glinting at his wrist. To his left stood a dark-haired man with round spectacles and a lab coat. Professor Hojo, Rosalind recognized with a shudder. He was speaking animatedly, his glasses filled with light so that she couldn't see his eyes. Not that she needed to. Her memory served her well enough to recall the fanatical gleam of a madman.
Among them, she spotted the Heads of Public Safety and Weapons Development, Heidegger and Scarlet. They too had shown up in their finery, Scarlet choosing a skin-tight dress of red silk that left little to the imagination. Heidegger was doing his best to look anywhere but in the Weapons Specialist's direction. Palmer, the Head of the Space Program, was barely discernable through the railing, but Rufus Shinra stood off to the side in a stoic rumination. With all members of the board in attendance, security was heightened. Rosalind and Perrine had prepared for this, but it was still unnerving to see several Turks in blue suits stationed throughout the ballroom.
This evening was a benefit of sorts, a marked occasion to celebrate the philanthropic achievements of Midgar's elite class. Though Rosalind's family had once taken their place alongside the heads of Shinra, years of misfortune and obscurity had relegated her to an invitation-only status. Even now, as Reeve led her through the throng of Midgardian gentry, hardly anyone spared a glance in her direction. She found temporary comfort in this, knowing that by the night's end, she would never have such autonomy again.
"May I take your coat and stole, ma'am?" Perrine asked.
"Yes, thank you," said Rosalind, slipping out of the heavy garment with ease. Underneath, she revealed a smooth satin dress Perrine managed to iron and press into the mimicry of feathers down her bodice, hugging her shoulders and hips before rippling to the floor in an elegant train.
"Good luck," whispered Perrine as she made off for the coat closet.
"My," said Reeve appreciatively as Rosalind rejoined him by one of the marble columns, "if I had known you were planning to dress to the nines, I would have changed into a proper tux."
"Please. My reputation is on the line this evening, not yours," she replied with a laugh. "Our venture is dependent on whether or not I can charm this gala."
"I'm glad you've volunteered to be the face of our project and not I," Reeve agreed. "I've pulled some strings to introduce you right after the awards ceremony. I'm afraid I will have to join everyone on the veranda until then. Will you be alright here?"
A server passed with a tray of champagne. Rosalind grabbed two flutes, offering one to Reeve.
"Of course," she assured him. "Until then."
"Until then."
They clinked glasses before Reeve headed toward the stairs leading to the rotunda.
Rosalind sipped her champagne, trying not to meet gazes with anyone in particular. It had been years since she had tended to the customs of high society, and if her plans weren't so lofty, she would have preferred to keep it that way. Regardless, she put on a pleasant air and surveyed the glittering crowd with detached interest.
The presence of Professor Hojo unnerved her still, but it could not be helped. She was prepared for some kind of reunion with the scientist. Over a short timeframe, he had become President Shinra's most valuable asset. Perhaps, second only to –
Her train of thought was cut short by the sound of a woman gasping. A ripple traveled through the crowd, hushed whispers competing with the orchestra as a man crossed the ballroom. The Silver General strode over the dance floor languidly, wearing the white and gold ceremonial fatigues reserved for First-Class SOLDIERs. He was shadowed by two other impressive men, and together they cut a direct path through the gala to join the board directors on the rotunda.
Rosalind took a step back under the colonnade, heart pounding inside her chest as she was wracked by sudden fear. No. Intimidation.
"Sephiroth is here," said a young woman on her left, sounding breathless. "I never see him attend these kinds of functions."
"First-Class SOLDIERs are quite fetching, are they not?" Her companion whispered in awe. "I do love a man in uniform."
Though Rosalind could appreciate their musings, she found the Silver General to be quite cold and aloof. One sweep of his penetrating gaze, and the ballroom was reduced to a pit of anxious quarry. A woman across the dance floor fainted.
"Oh dear, there goes Pauline," murmured the woman at Rosalind's side. "Such a pity."
Rosalind snorted into her champagne flute. The company could put the man in ceremonial fatigues all they wanted, but Sephiroth was still every bit the unholy embodiment of cold, calculating, and deadly military finesse. The Silver General paid no attention, standing off to the side and appearing bored with the night's events. His companions seemed positively jovial in comparison.
Rosalind felt a rush of panic swirling in her gut. She and Perrine had not anticipated that any members of SOLDIER would be present this evening. Turks, yes. But a First-Class War Hero?
Thank goodness I'll have Reeve, she thought as she drained her champagne.
The orchestra lifted their waltz to a grand crescendo, signaling a polite applause from the guests. All members of the Board took their places behind President Shinra as he lifted his champagne in a toast.
"My friends and colleagues, thank you for coming together to celebrate another wondrous season as Midgar's leading benefactors. I am humbled to stand before you this evening," President Shinra spoke loudly, his voice booming throughout the ballroom, "to announce that the company has had yet another robust quarter in the energy sector, and we are planning to expand our operations to include a new mako reactor and a state-of-the-art research facility in North Corel."
The ballroom erupted into more applause, and Rosalind hid her distaste behind a neutral expression. More reactors meant more environmental harm, more human suffering, more devastation to the planet. But everyone in this room wasn't thinking about the planet, they were thinking about the significant disbursement in wealth they would receive from their investment portfolios.
"To commemorate this tremendous occasion, the company wishes to recognize the combined achievements of our Science and Research Development Department and Weapons Department, Professor Hojo and Director Scarlet."
Crystal trophies were presented to each department head, though Scarlet looked far from pleased to be sharing the spotlight with her more eccentric colleague. Professor Hojo grinned, and Rosalind hated how content he appeared.
"I would also like to bestow a special award, recognizing the First-Class SOLDIERs for their dedication and commitment to clearing the new reactor site from the pestilence that threatens to consume our world every day. On behalf of Shinra Electric Power Company, I have the honor of bestowing a medal of honor, which marks superlative performance, to members of our elite taskforce: Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth."
His words were met with immediate fanfare as a pair of photographers and a videographer immediately swooped in to capture the moment each SOLDIER received a massive golden medal pinned to their left lapel. The dark-haired one, Angeal, received his with extreme humility. Genesis took it upon himself to grin cavalierly at the adoring crowd. And Sephiroth kept his face hidden behind his curtain of silver hair, his expression unreadable. Rosalind found that peculiar. Did she sense a touch of enmity in the way he held himself? Did Sephiroth, perhaps, recognize that the entire awards ceremony was an empty gesture? After all, every win for Shinra was a further hardship for the citizens at large.
And then it dawned on Rosalind that she was about to compete for the same recognition and fanfare. Cynically, she knew that the only way to win support for her cause was to play into the upper brass's game of politics. She would have to guise herself as one of them, reviving her family's notoriety. She only hoped she could achieve this while remaining outside the clutches of Professor Hojo and his research team.
An involuntary urge to flee overcame Rosalind, and she fought to remain still. Her team's research was so much bigger than her fear of being seen, and if her uncle were still alive, he would have pushed her into the very spotlight she was circling now. Her research went beyond this gala, Shinra, and Midgar combined.
There would be no turning back now.
The award ceremony drew to a sudden close, and Rosalind spotted Reeve hastily descending the stairs as he beckoned to her with a grin. It's now or never, she thought as she reached for his arm to brace herself. Her team had been preparing this moment for weeks, her careful partnership with Urban Planning Department meticulously orchestrated. They had simulated nearly a thousand different ways of obtaining funding, and yet this remained to be the most advantageous route.
"Mr. President, may I introduce you to my esteemed colleague, Doctor Rosalind Faremis."
There was a noticeable pause. At the mention of her surname, all heads turned to regard her more closely. A pair of mako-bright eyes landed on the nape of her neck.
The President cast an unimpressed glance in her direction, as if communicating openly just how little he regarded her lineage now. "Ah, yes, the doctor. A relation of Professor Gast, I presume?"
"His niece, sir." Rosalind clarified with a courteous grin.
"I see." He did not reach out to shake her hand, instead leaning against the railing as he removed a cigar from a golden case kept in his breast pocket. With the flip of a lighter, he inhaled deeply. Acrid smoke filled the space between them, causing Rosalind's eyes to water. "Professor Gast left a sizeable hole in our company's timeline. We are fortunate that Professor Hojo was able to rise to the occasion in his stead."
Rosalind bristled on reflex, noting the hidden threat he posed. Everyone, including the celebrated academic brilliance of Professor Gast, was replaceable within Shinra. The company had moved on, leaving her family's legacy behind.
"You are most kind, sir," Hojo grinned, turning his dark eyes on Rosalind. "My predecessor was unparalleled in his research methodology. I strive to achieve his standard even to this day."
"As do I," Rosalind said, unable to squelch the anger that flared in her chest at his remark.
"Oh? Then perhaps Doctor Faremis is here to reclaim his spot?" Hojo said to President Shinra slyly. "She seeks a tenure in our Science and Research Development Department?"
"Not quite, Professor," Reeve cut in smoothly. "Doctor Faremis has been contributing to the Urban Planning Department through our shared connection with the Calendula Foundation. Mr. President, would you allow us a brief moment of your time? I promise you will find this most fascinating."
President Shinra had already grown bored.
"Is that so?" He replied with a glance at his watch. "Well then, on with it, Tuesti."
If this was the President in a charitable mood, Rosalind hated to think what he looked like when irritated.
"Doctor Faremis," Reeve acknowledged her with an encouraging motion. "whenever you're ready."
Rosalind rolled back her shoulders. Somehow, being dismissed before she could even get her niceties and pleasantries out of the way gave her the resolve she had been lacking until now. She smiled brightly at Reeve to reassure him.
Showtime.
"Thank you, Director Tuesti," she said, slipping into the tone of authority she normally reserved for lectures, "for this rare opportunity to speak with the Board." She approached President Shinra. "I cannot claim the achievements of my late uncle, Professor Gast; however, his insatiable curiosity for the truth is a familial trait we share extensively." She directed her words to Professor Hojo who merely crossed his arms, still holding onto his award. "This evening, I wished to present to you, President Shinra, and the Board of Directors a piece of technology my team has been developing under Director Tuesti's patronage. If you will allow me the room?"
Though his eyes narrowed, President Shinra nodded.
"Thank you, sir."
Rosalind turned, smoothing the front of her ivory gown, the silk whispering beneath her touch. The low-cut back left her feeling alarmingly exposed, a chill prickling along her spine under the weight of so many powerful gazes. She lifted her chin, her gloved hands resting lightly on the marble balustrade as she touched her cheek—a subtle signal. At her motion, Perrine raised a hand, and the orchestra fell silent.
The hush that followed was palpable, a vacuum of expectation. Below, the guests shifted, craning their necks toward the rotunda.
Rosalind cleared her throat, her voice ringing out across the grand chamber.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. My name is Doctor Rosalind Faremis. I have been brought here by the friendship and patronage of the Urban Planning Department to present you with a spectacle I promise will both shock and amaze you."
She inclined her head toward Reeve in a show of gratitude.
"As we gather to celebrate the remarkable charity work of our great city, I am reminded that Midgar is the cultural seat of art and innovation. What better place than here, alongside you, for Director Tuesti and I unveil a new invention?"
A beat of silence.
Then, Rosalind exhaled slowly, raised a hand, and snapped her fingers.
The explosion was instant.
A violent burst of white light detonated at the heart of the ballroom, a deafening roar swallowing the air. A wave of heat slammed outward. Glasses shattered, chairs scraped against the marble, and a cacophony of screams erupted as guests ducked and scrambled for cover.
"Mr. President!" someone shouted.
Guards surged forward, shielding the man in a wall of bodies. His cigar tumbled, forgotten, onto the carpet as he was dragged behind the three First-Class SOLDIERs.
Rosalind barely had time to turn before the cold steel of a blade hovered just shy of her throat.
Sephiroth.
His presence was suffocating—taller, faster than she had anticipated, his blade poised with lethal precision. That stare. She understood now why Pauline had fainted earlier; the raw intensity of it pinned her in place, stealing the breath from her lungs.
But she had already let the illusion slip free.
The explosion collapsed in on itself, swallowed by its own brilliance. What had been fire and ruin became showers of golden fireworks, sizzling and crackling as they rained over the ballroom in hypnotic arcs. The screams turned to gasps, the terror shifting into wonder.
Sephiroth withdrew, his brow furrowing.
Rosalind lifted her hands once more, fingers tracing unseen threads in the air. The golden sparks coalesced, stretching and shifting, their forms morphing mid-flight. Hundreds of crystalline-winged birds burst forth, their translucent bodies refracting light like stained glass. They swept through the chamber in spirals, their wings humming with a celestial resonance. Above them, the ceiling melted away, revealing an endless golden sky at twilight, the colors bleeding into one another in a breathtaking illusion.
The air itself changed. Sunlight—warm, impossibly real—kissed the guests' faces. A hush fell over the crowd, a collective moment of pure disbelief as hands lifted, as if to catch the light.
Then came the laughter. The breathless kind, disbelieving and awestruck.
Rosalind steadied herself.
Now, for the grand finale.
The marble balustrade behind her dissolved like grains of sand caught in the wind. As she stepped forward, a pathway of fragmented crystal bloomed beneath her feet, lifting her effortlessly above the dance floor. Gasps rippled through the crowd. A bolt of light, sharp as divine judgment, speared through the clouds, cascading over her.
Her gown ignited into liquid gold, the silk shifting as though woven from molten sunlight. Her skin shimmered with a constellation of tiny stars, a soft luminescence radiating from within. Bright, green-gold threads of the Lifestream curled around her, pulsing, alive.
She had chosen her vision well.
A goddess, untouchable. A being beyond mortal reach.
Minerva.
Suspended above them, radiant and untethered, she saw it—the fear on President Shinra's face.
Rosalind grinned.
"I call this Glamour."
A/N: Felt cute. Might delete later. :D
I binged FFVII Rebirth while working on other projects and this idea was too good to pass up. This story takes place between the war in Wutai and Genesis and Angeal's desertion from SOLDIER, when Sephiroth is in a relative period of "peace".
This is going to be a whimsical romp through Midgar and the different sectors, with some romantic suspense and intrigue thrown in. Just a Sephiroth-fangirl comfort read for now.
Chapter Bonuses:
"The Aristocats: Everybody Wants to Be A Cat (arr. For Orchestra)" – Gävle Symphony Orchestra
Danielle Frankel's Bruna Pleated Silk Wool Dress is the inspiration for Rosalind's gala outfit.
Perrine – pronounced as "Pear-een"