[ closed. ] to those who loved this world, and knew friendly company therein—

[evanescent]

WHO: Aerith Gainsborough & various
WHEN: Aeveuer
WHERE: Dreamland
WHAT: Memory share event
WARNINGS: Warnings will be placed in the toplevels that warrant it. General blanket warning for violence and child endangerment/experimentation & human experimentation though.

[The mirror you face is ornate, cast in a frame of golden wood that has been carefully carved in the visage of lilies. More details become clear the closer you get — more carvings of interlocking vines and flowers. On the bottom of this framed mirror is the carved image of two greatswords, crossed over one another. On the top, in the center, is a glowing circular gem, smooth and facetless, inlaid in the center of a carving that looks very much like a ribbon. The closer you get to the mirror, the more you begin to see it — tendrils of aquamarine light in the same color of that jewel, that ripple at the surface, like a lake disturbed by a stone.

Though it seems inexplicable, you think you hear birdsong.]

[ooc: starters below. if you'd like a starter featuring any of these memories or anything else, hit me up on godsibb @ plurk or send me a PM.]

Comments

[supersoldier]

[He is towed along the memory the same way jetsam is pitched by the currents of the sea. Free-flowing until he is buoyed in one moment, in one scene, only to move to the next.

Yet Sephiroth knows this is Gaia, even enclosed as he is in the swaying metal of the gondola. Perhaps it is the sky, or the lines of the horizon, that give it away. Or something else — the inexplicable knowing one is where they should be, where they come from. (There is irony in him feeling that way; but surely he can allow even small indulgences time and again.) Any remaining doubt vanishes as suffused lights begin to brighten the tunnel that has swallowed them whole, forming a declaration in lurid, flashing color: The Gold Saucer.

He knows of this place, of course. Its reputation is enticing enough to have travelled countless miles and perch itself in the ears of those who wouldn’t normally care. But he has never visited, never once having a reason to. No mission, task, or request has ever required his presence here, and if one thinks an amusement park is where Sephiroth deigns to spend his free time, they would be laughably wrong. The Gold Saucer is all loud noise and clashing color to him. It is grating music on a too-short loop and kitschy, mind-boggling design. It is so opposite of what he’s used to — the corporate modernity of Shinra HQ — that standing here, even in memory, is an affront to his senses.

Yet it isn’t enough to distract him from the file of individuals spilling out of the gondola. He expects one familiar face, and that he should see two instead is not terribly surprising. The others are even more interesting to him: a man with a gun for an arm, a younger woman fighting off motion sickness with lacking results, a creature on four legs with a candlelight tail, and a woman with long, dark hair, who only sparks curious familiarity the moment he hears her voice.

Cloud, Aerith, a cavalcade of others. They make for a conspicuous group, and questions churn in his mind, wondering when this was, why they thought to visit. But before he can allow his thoughts to settle, the present Aerith moves in his periphery, noticing him. For a moment, she looks like she’s seen a ghost. It isn’t for the first time.]

That wasn’t my intention.

[To scare her, he means. Sephiroth uncrosses his arms, stepping closer.]

This is your memory, then. [Feline-like eyes cast out towards the plaza, and he cannot hide the faint disapproval tugging at his brow.] This place is about what I expected from it.

[evanescent]

[It's so bizarre to see him here, in her memory of all places, that she half expects something ridiculous to happen. Dream logic — him exploding into confetti, or transforming into a mascot, or any number of things. He looks very solid, however, and, cautiously, she reaches over to poke his arm.]

Huh!

[Her unease seems to pop like a soap bubble the second that she does that.] Yeah, you look pretty real.

[At his clear disapproval, she puts her hands on her hips, tilts her head just so.] "What you expected?" Are you telling me you don't even like amusement parks? That's criminally boring.

[Insane, this woman.] You haven't even given it a shot. Maybe you'll like it, once you go in.

[supersoldier]

[Aerith… pokes his arm — how many people from Gaia would do that to him on a whim? — but there’s hardly any visible reaction, other than the faint curling of gloved fingers.]

…

[And then she calls him criminally boring, of all things; while not enough to slight him, this conjures up a rejoinder with surprising immediacy.]

Is the rest of the park this unsightly? Then probably not.

[She’s distracting him from what he was planning to ask, and Sephiroth has to realign his thought process, refusing to let the question slip from his tongue.]

Who are those people? One of them looks familiar to me.

[He’s not talking about Cloud.]

[evanescent]

Unsightly! It's charming, I think. In a kitschy sort of way. If this bothers you, you'd really hate some parts of the slums.

[She wonders if he's ever been. Likely not, given his background. Only the lowliest of Shinra grunts were assigned to the little towns beneath the plate. No SOLDIER worth his salt would be caught dead there. Sephiroth least of all.

The question she's prepared for, now that she's in her own memory, and in her element.] A ragtag group of adventurers, traveling to save the Planet.

[Here she pauses. Surely he didn't mean Cloud, so that left...

Hm. He could not hurt Tifa here, of course. Even knowing this, she feels some level of responsibility.]

Why don't you come along? Maybe it'll jog your memory.

[supersoldier]

[The slums are not neon bright and gaudy, with abrasively upbeat music echoing on loop throughout. No, his knowledge and experiences with those living on the lower plate are lacking, but Sephiroth knows it's not a fair comparison. He’s tempted to point this out, but the retort is tamped down to avoid falling into a useless discussion about a clashing taste of aesthetics.

Her other answer is baffling; mostly because her tone is too playful to be taken seriously. Adventurers, saving the Planet? From what? The lurid, gil-draining activities present on the Gold Saucer? Please.]

Courageously fighting off motion sickness. [Flat.] Fine. Lead the way, then.

[It’s her memory, and therefore she’s far better suited to it.

Surely he won’t regret this later.]

[evanescent]

Not quite! And jeez, I bet you're great at parties...

[This is said in a mutter. She doesn't like turning her back to him, though she must to lead them into the entrance, and some of the winding tension leaves her shoulders when they are properly inside. The Golden Saucer is just as floridly colored and loud as it had been on the outside, and both this and the presence of her friends, memories or otherwise, help to make her feel more relaxed.

This part of the memory is an unpleasant one, however. Barret's temper, already poor, had been exacerbated by the vapid festivities of the amusement park. They have work to do, he says, a mission, and the past version of herself listens to this, troubled and impatient both. She tries, in her irreverent way, to cheer him, and only seems to worsen his mood. He storms off, and Cloud sighs.

"We meet back here," he says before they all go their separate ways. Aerith tugs the other woman along with her, to her weak and troubled protests: "Don't you think we should look for Barret?" "It'll be fine! C'mon, when's the last time you had any fun—"

In the present, Aerith watches this, her own expression unreadable. Finally:]

We were taking a break. We needed it! That's what I thought, anyway. Leaving Midgar was difficult. And the places we visited were all off terribly. Shinra interference, you know? Some of the smaller places like Kalm were alright, but Corel was the worse by far. It ended up buried underneath an amusement park. It's pretty morbid, huh?

[She wonders if he cares about this. She assumes not, though she finds it important to say, anyway.] Let's follow them. If I remember right... it was the Event Square we went to.

[a beat.]

You're going to have to go down a slide. Sorry!

[supersoldier]

[The inside is somehow worse.

Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, but Sephiroth is assaulted by an incomprehensible swath of neon yellow after crossing the entrance into the park proper. The lights, the illustrations and text indicating which direction would lead to where, the harsh rings of rainbow encircling each path, and that music — even more of a travesty, trapped in a gaudy, acoustic echo chamber.

He doesn’t know the man who seems to be in a constantly worsening mood (Barret, apparently), but somehow, Sephiroth thinks he understands.

Still, the interactions don’t go unnoticed. There’s talk of a mission before the group splits up, instilling more questions in his mind, but as the individuals each go down their chosen pathway, the Aerith of the present begins speaking. She tells him of the group’s need for a break, implying a longer journey now behind them. She speaks of Shinra’s detrimental influence dotting the landscape, and Sephiroth realizes he’s long lost the will to really argue the point in regards to the company.

Of course, this also means he has nothing to add to the matter, which could be interpreted as disinterest, given how difficult he is to read.

Unsurprisingly, it’s the bit about slides that dredges up a reaction, once again shoving aside his questions.]

You want me to take a slide. [Just to confirm just how inane that sounds, Aerith.] I have a hard time believing that’s the most practical way to reach where you want to go.

[There’s a way back up, isn’t there? It would have to be less ridiculous than traveling by slide, and more reasonably suited for moving across this park in general.]

[evanescent]

Yes, I want you, the Great Sephiroth, to take a slide. [She looks very serious about it, then — she shrugs.] Look! I didn't design this place. That's the way to go, see?

[Indeed, the scattered group seems to be making their way down the tubs in the main waiting area.] It'll only be a minute, and no one can see you, remember? There's not any reason to be embarrassed about it.

[She knows he isn't embarrassed, merely prideful. But she is being deliberately obtuse.] What? Worried you'll have fun? You know what they say: you miss 100 percent of the chances you don't take.

[supersoldier]

[You'd know, he almost says, but keeps it leashed on his tongue. That would sound like embarrassment, and she's right; he's not embarrassed, only prideful in too many ways, even in the non-reality of a memory that doesn't belong to him.

But arguing with her is a battle of attrition, one that he does not wish to waste his energy on. And so after a moment of silence, eyes fixed on her face, his own stubbornness falters, and he relents. His tone of voice makes it clear that it still isn't his preference, to go sliding down this too-bright tube like a fool.]

...Fine.

[And so, following the suit of the others who have already departed, he moves towards the slide leading to Event Square, committing to his decision. It means that Sephiroth -- a man far too imposing to duck down into the mouth of the slide without it being comical -- dutifully lowers himself just enough to sling himself into it, feet first, in one smooth, somehow still defiant, motion.

And off he goes.

The "trip" down itself is... inoffensive. It doesn't even really cause his stomach to lurch from the drop, and generally he finds it unexciting, even as he spills out at the exit in an unfurling mass of black coat and silver hair. Of course, this only makes it all the more ridiculous and unnecessary.

Sephiroth plants his feet on the ground, standing. Aerith had better have followed.]

[evanescent]

[Aerith keeps her expression serious up until she is certain he's disappeared from view, slipping into the tube and out of sight. Then — she titters, giggles, clutches her sides as if to keep the laughter at bay.

She shows up, a little before him, actually, once she is certain she'll be able to look him in the eye without cracking up.

How she's gotten there before him is not explained. Instead she waits by the entrance to the Event Square, and watches the memory version of herself and Tifa pass through. Snippets of their conversation are heard, Tifa still fretting: Are you sure this is alright...? We should check on Cloud, and herself taking her wrist, gently turning her back around, He's a big boy. Don't worry. I'll protect you! Finally, she's rewarded with a laugh.

When Sephiroth does arrive, she pulls her gaze from the memory.] See? Wasn't too bad, was it? You're still perfectly coiffed and all! Did you have fun?

she's a menace

[supersoldier]

[Sephiroth expects Aerith to go tumbling out of the slide’s exit, as well, so when he raises his eyes to find her standing there, as if she had arrived first and with time to spare, he furrows his brow at her — his frown becomes more prevalent, more from mild confusion than disapproval.

(Though the disapproval is sure to come if he learns that taking that slide was ever unnecessary.)

But she’s as unaffected as ever, making remarks as if being perpetually “coiffed” is ever one of his priorities. It is.]

No.

[No he dID NOT.

What constitutes fun for Sephiroth is a mystery to most people, but the truth is that it’s limited to one very specific thing (combat), for not much else has been allowed to germinate in his little more than two decades of living. Still, the tail end of this memory has played out in the distance, and Sephiroth can only catch the flagging conversation. His eyes trail to the environment; a colorful stage with enough seating that it could be categorized as an amphitheater.]

You have a very childish idea of fun. What's there to see here?

the devil on earth

[evanescent]

Maybe you don't have an idea of fun at all. Did you ever think of it that way?

[It seems she has at the least tired of dragging him around aimlessly though, because as they head toward the auditorium, she answers his question, sitting on the steps rather than finding a place in the crowd.] It's a play. If I'm honest, I didn't think it was a very good one. But she needed the break.

[She motions to herself and Tifa in the memory — she does, in fact, look a little bored. But Tifa is engrossed, leaning forward, nudging her at particularly exciting parts. This joy, open and so unlike her, makes her look younger.] Her name is Tifa, by the way. I thought you might remember her if you saw her like this.

[supersoldier]

[Sephiroth isn’t the type to plant himself in the crowd, but he’s also not going perch himself on the steps leading down to the stage, either. So he stands, just a step or two above from where Aerith sits, arms crossed -- and looming, were this not just a memory.

He feels no need to justify himself, so the first question goes ignored, instead opting to fix his gaze on Tifa’s profile, the young woman openly enjoying the show put on for the crowd. Recognition starts to solidify.]

…Our guide. [Their guide at Nibelheim, meant to lead them to the reactor. The years have carved away at the rounder features of youth, as they often do, but he’s certain of it.] I do remember her now. She was dressed— [A beat.] Differently. But I was standing right next to her before I was stolen from our Planet.

[He huffs out air, an almost scoff of consideration.]

She seems to be enjoying herself now.

[Personally, Sephiroth is a bit tired of plays.]

[evanescent]

That's her.

[Something has changed in Aerith's demeanor — it's subtle, but she seems thoughtful. She tucks her knees to her chest.]

Yeah. She usually sucks at having fun.

[It's said with no small amount of fondness.

Sephiroth is looming over her, and in some other circumstance she might feel threatened by it — this bizarre similarity to the moments before her death. Seeing him go down a colorful tube kind of takes the edge off of it though, and she tilts her head back to regard him.] Have you ever met someone like that? Someone who worries all the time?

[supersoldier]

[She looks up at him, and Sephiroth cants his head down in turn, his silver bangs more prominently framing his face at this angle.]

Shinra military isn’t conducive to worrywart personalities. [Worrying led down two paths: worsening performance and the second-guessing of orders coming from above. Neither of which are suited nor wanted in a militant structure or hierarchy. ]

But... [He looks over at the memory of Tifa and Aerith again, then to the stage play still going strong.] You’re the type of person to worry about someone who worries all the time, aren’t you?