sephiroth, “tol alien boy”, SOLDIER first class. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-02-21 06:46 pm
supersoldier) wrote in middaeg2020-02-21 06:46 pm
Entry tags:
( closed ) and the lights will flicker
Who: Aerith & Sephiroth
When: During the Outpost event
Where: The ruins, mostly!
What: Aerith keeps wandering off and the duo has to deal with ghosties.
Warnings: Potentially angry ghosts. Will add if needed!
[The Bond — as temporary as it is — was stressed as an importance, a safety measure as they all ventured out into a wilderness untamed, providing magical fortitude and a constant, mental awareness of their partner’s location.
So he isn’t quite sure how Aerith manages to completely and utterly circumvent the latter, time and time again.
She’s prone to wandering, stealing away even under Sephiroth’s watchful nature. The first time it happened, he thought maybe the fault was his; the second time, it was likely blamed on her focus so easily swayed from one thing to another. The third? As he picks through the ruins of a dilapidated building, detritus strewn into the earth and clotted with overgrowth, he thinks he may remark how she must be doing it on purpose, on telling her to at least inform him the next time wishes to wander off into the night.
When he turns the corner of that half-fallen structure of stone, this mild discontent is immediately shorn away. Across the expanse of land, still littered with shells of a past life — buildings, charred bones, trinkets gone to rust and buried in the soil — there is movement. Specters that appear impossibly luminescent in the lack of light, their forms a smoky wisp until they’re not, until they are just children playing in what must have once been a courtyard, or men laughing at an inaudible joke, their shoulders shaking, or vendors behind stalls that are no longer there, beckoning invisible customers to come at browse through their wares.
And there is a cold, gnawing feeling at his core. Altogether foreign in how long it’s been since it lasted visited him — dread, knotted and twisted up and threatening to unfurl into something bigger, and it is only the many years’ worth of his SOLDIER training that allows him to push it down, steel his spine, and press forward.
Because in the distance, he sees her. He cannot make out just yet what she is doing, only that there is another set of these apparent ghosts near where she stands, appearing cognizant of her presence, and none too happy for it.
Sephiroth’s there in a matter of seconds, his stride steady and long, his tone inadvertently colder than what he had initially even planned, now hyperaware of every ghost that circles even remotely close to them.]
What are you doing?
When: During the Outpost event
Where: The ruins, mostly!
What: Aerith keeps wandering off and the duo has to deal with ghosties.
Warnings: Potentially angry ghosts. Will add if needed!
[The Bond — as temporary as it is — was stressed as an importance, a safety measure as they all ventured out into a wilderness untamed, providing magical fortitude and a constant, mental awareness of their partner’s location.
So he isn’t quite sure how Aerith manages to completely and utterly circumvent the latter, time and time again.
She’s prone to wandering, stealing away even under Sephiroth’s watchful nature. The first time it happened, he thought maybe the fault was his; the second time, it was likely blamed on her focus so easily swayed from one thing to another. The third? As he picks through the ruins of a dilapidated building, detritus strewn into the earth and clotted with overgrowth, he thinks he may remark how she must be doing it on purpose, on telling her to at least inform him the next time wishes to wander off into the night.
When he turns the corner of that half-fallen structure of stone, this mild discontent is immediately shorn away. Across the expanse of land, still littered with shells of a past life — buildings, charred bones, trinkets gone to rust and buried in the soil — there is movement. Specters that appear impossibly luminescent in the lack of light, their forms a smoky wisp until they’re not, until they are just children playing in what must have once been a courtyard, or men laughing at an inaudible joke, their shoulders shaking, or vendors behind stalls that are no longer there, beckoning invisible customers to come at browse through their wares.
And there is a cold, gnawing feeling at his core. Altogether foreign in how long it’s been since it lasted visited him — dread, knotted and twisted up and threatening to unfurl into something bigger, and it is only the many years’ worth of his SOLDIER training that allows him to push it down, steel his spine, and press forward.
Because in the distance, he sees her. He cannot make out just yet what she is doing, only that there is another set of these apparent ghosts near where she stands, appearing cognizant of her presence, and none too happy for it.
Sephiroth’s there in a matter of seconds, his stride steady and long, his tone inadvertently colder than what he had initially even planned, now hyperaware of every ghost that circles even remotely close to them.]
What are you doing?