( Yazoo isn't accustomed to feeling as though he has nothing. On Gaia all that mattered was maintaining the bonds of family: he hadn't much cared for possessions beyond those that could help him realise Mother's goal, and with Kadaj and Loz by his side he'd never felt the need to try and personalise himself. He was part of something bigger — part of Mother's grand design — and he was perfectly content in walking the path created for him. His purpose had already been mapped out for him at, quite literally, a cellular level, and neither his actions nor identity had any reason to deviate beyond Reunion.

Here in Aefenglom, Yazoo is desperately aware of the fact that his connection to all that has been abruptly severed. Contemplating an existence without Mother isn't something he can think about just yet, which means the overwhelming slew of information is almost welcome in giving him something else to focus on. His immediate survival is key: Yazoo can busy himself with finding food, shelter, and beginning the search for his brothers, because if anyone will know what to do? It's Kadaj. He always knows what their next step should be, and Yazoo is holding on to the hope that he's somehow been transported here as well.

He looks on coolly as he and the rest of the newcomers are guided to The Haven. That passive expression gives very little away: while Kadaj and Loz wear their emotions boldly Yazoo tends towards extreme privacy, and so his uncertainty is buried deep beneath a smooth veneer that only hints towards irritation. He is, however, on a much shorter fuse than usual, and so when someone jostles into his side— )

Don't touch me.

( Those alien eyes flash sharply, and Yazoo moves whip-fast to slap the person's arm away from him. A moment passes between them that seems on the verge of growing fraught — but then Yazoo's shoulders lower ever so slightly as he gives the person a brief once-over.

Perhaps they might be of some use. When he speaks again his voice is soft, if no less frosty than his expression. )

... Have you seen my brothers? We look alike.

( Perhaps not exactly alike, but clearly very much related. Little does he know that Sephiroth is the only "brother" he'll find here. )

( It becomes readily apparent that Yazoo won't be able to get much of anything done without any money.

"Work" isn't a foreign concept to him (for all it's not something he's ever had to do before), but it's still a little frustrating that he can't simply intimidate the people around him into giving him what he needs. It worked perfectly well on Gaia — the people there were weak, and prone to crumpling at even the suggestion of violence — but with his gun malfunctioning, his Materia vanished, and his brothers simply gone, Yazoo is opting to tread carefully for the time being. In this respect, it's actually quite convenient that Aefenglom doesn't harbour the same fear of his appearance as on Gaia, if only because it's made it that bit easier to seek out information.

... That said information led him to what appears to be a vegetable-carving event is neither here nor there. He's going to be paid five hundred cunes per hour just for carving faces into these pumpkins? Yazoo exhales a huff through his nose, the corners of his lips pulling down for half a heartbeat before his mouth presses into a tight line.

Fine. Money is money, and while he's managed to avoid having to settle into a house with other people, he needs food for his make-shift shelter while he tries to figure out his next step. )

I need that.

( Said expectantly, to the person sitting closest to him at the carving table. "That" would be the person's carving tool (which looks much sharper than the one he's been provided with); Yazoo values precision, and he won't let his standards drop even for something as stupid as this. He tilts his head, silver hair slipping over his shoulder as he fixes the person with a level, unblinking stare. )

Give it to me.

( Yazoo has been in Aefenglom for just over a week when he makes his first visit to the shopping district. He's managed to carve out a little spot for himself up in the attic of a residential ruin on the outskirts of the city: it isn't much, but then he doesn't have any real experience with home comforts, and he'd much rather live away from the rest of the population than have to deal with roommates or neighbours. That said, it's reaching the time of year where the cold comes nipping and biting at night, and now that he has a decent handful of cunes stashed away behind a brick in the wall ...


Well. A blanket would be nice. He's doing his best to ignore the downy, silvery hair beginning to grow in over his shoulders and down his biceps, and definitely isn't going to humour the thought that it'll at least keep him warm as the season shifts into winter. That is the kind of joke that Loz would make at his expense, and Yazoo isn't having any of it.

He slips through the crowds of shoppers with ease. The Shopping District is a little overwhelming, if he's honest: it glitters with colours and lights and the bustling streets aren't particularly easy to navigate, and he's rounding yet another corner when—

Ah. When he spots it. A stall laden with incredibly soft-looking blankets, woven from fine wool and dyed all sorts of cosy colours. Immediately, it flips some kind of switch at the back of Yazoo's mind. He has to touch the blankets. More than that — he has to sink his fingers into the blankets, and as he approaches the stall his pupils yawn wide with pleasure at the prospect of getting his hands on the material. Unperturbed by the other customers (who he ignores as he approaches) Yazoo lets his hands hover over a seafom-green blanket, before gingerly placing them onto the thick fold and beginning to knead.

Yes, he's a feline Turnskin who was separated from his Mother too soon. No, he absolutely cannot stop now that he's started. Please shame him. )

Kadaj?
Loz.

Mother isn't here.

Or hit me up for something else! I'm available on Plurk at scry and can also be contacted via DMs to this journal - have at me.