[ You may not act like it, but this has to be affecting you.
A statement that has him straightening his back as though to contradict her, a bullheaded display to show that he’s as unyielding as before, that his stoicism is a proper shield that keeps his spine straight and repels the scrutiny of others. Of her insight, which is poignantly and so very correct.
Every statement seems to be a new revelation that he has no context for, beyond stringing together the story hurriedly in his own mind. Black Materia, Meteor— a connection to the almost-destruction of their Planet, no doubt. That hatred he saw in the fires of Nibelheim, having spread to a global scale. How can he house that kind of dread motivation? If what she says is true, is it not quietly sleeping in him now, waiting for the moment to be set free?
Maybe she was right to be scared.
When Sephiroth pulls himself back to reality, trailed along by her explanation, he’s realized that he’s pressing the heel of a palm against his head. Not as steady as he thought.]
I—
[His focus is stretched too thin, and perhaps after all this time, he cannot quite blame only the plants and their leaves.]
I haven’t done that to him. Not here.
[He shakes his head, silver swaying.]
It’s like you’re speaking about someone else. You don’t know what this is like— to accept that is the kind of monster I am. Do you understand? I can’t.
no subject
A statement that has him straightening his back as though to contradict her, a bullheaded display to show that he’s as unyielding as before, that his stoicism is a proper shield that keeps his spine straight and repels the scrutiny of others. Of her insight, which is poignantly and so very correct.
Every statement seems to be a new revelation that he has no context for, beyond stringing together the story hurriedly in his own mind. Black Materia, Meteor— a connection to the almost-destruction of their Planet, no doubt. That hatred he saw in the fires of Nibelheim, having spread to a global scale. How can he house that kind of dread motivation? If what she says is true, is it not quietly sleeping in him now, waiting for the moment to be set free?
Maybe she was right to be scared.
When Sephiroth pulls himself back to reality, trailed along by her explanation, he’s realized that he’s pressing the heel of a palm against his head. Not as steady as he thought.]
I—
[His focus is stretched too thin, and perhaps after all this time, he cannot quite blame only the plants and their leaves.]
I haven’t done that to him. Not here.
[He shakes his head, silver swaying.]
It’s like you’re speaking about someone else. You don’t know what this is like— to accept that is the kind of monster I am. Do you understand? I can’t.