wordmage: Pen nib with a paw print (Default)
Crimson-Sun did a fantastic piece of art of Lazard and Sephiroth, from the shoulders up, and you're looking at Sephiroth's back but he has his head bowed a little, and Lazard is touching his face with this tender, compassionate look. Obviously, I had to write about it.

[Original Tumblr Post X]


“They’re gone.”
 
Lazard looked up immediately at the quiet words, lips parting though he could find none of his own at the sight of his lover. In so many ways, Sephiroth had always embodied strength to him, and if you gave him a passing glance tonight he was no different. He stood tall, posture perfect, an imposing figure of black, silver and porcelain. His face was schooled into neutrality, deep voice steady.
 
But his eyes, those brilliant green eyes… something was broken, and threatened to lose him in the wash of pain like nothing he’d ever known. In that moment, he felt a nearly blinding fury towards the two missing SOLDIERs, that they could just go without a word. They were his friends as well, and he would likely miss them, but Sephiroth… he was devastated.
 
For all his strength, for all his skill, for all the battles he’d fought and the war he’d won… he was not prepared for this. This injury cut deeper than a blade and would not heal anywhere near as quickly. It might never heal completely, as stricken as he was, but all he could do was hope.
 
He’d risen at some point, crossing to his lover and touching his cheek with a gloved hand. That he bowed his head into it without reservation made his heart ache, and he touched their heads together. “Sephiroth…”
 
“They left me.” The words were a whisper, lost and hurting in ways the younger man didn’t understand, had never had to deal with before. “Not a word. Angeal and I had breakfast that morning, and…”
 
And he was gone, without a word, without a hint that he would do so, in the middle of a mission. Yes, Lazard knew. He’d been there, if not in the thick of it. Zack had been baffled, and the others kept in the dark, but he knew the moment he’d seen Sephiroth’s face that he had been betrayed again.
 
The abandonment cut him to the core, but he’d barely had time to react until now. Part of him was touched that he was considered safe enough, a haven for his general - his love, because this went so far beyond the bond of comrades, this wasn’t the silver general standing so close that their heads touched and his bangs obscured his expression. He’d lost so much more than subordinates. Most of him, however, ached that he hurt so badly he needed someone else to cling to.
 
He could have happily lived his life with Sephiroth never needing to lean on his strength, never being hurt like this. But life was often cruel, and even if Angeal and Genesis came back through the door this very night, the damage was done. Even a mended heart would always have fine cracks, broken bits where it was weakened. Where it could break once more.
 
“I don’t understand,” for a moment, his hands were simply clenched at his sides, but then they were holding his jacket as tightly as they dared. Ever mindful of his strength, ever mindful of the needs of others even when he didn’t understand why. He tried so hard.
 
And they left.
 

wordmage: FF7 comet logo with FFVII written in black in the corner on a white background. (FF7)
[Original Tumblr post here X]

Granted, this came based off an ask a friend sent me talking about how I'd been terrible inspiring them as a writer, and of course after giving much encouragement it came around to discussing Sephiroth's remnants, which went like this:

Kadaj:
  • appearance: short, slim and compact, short and stylishly messy hair
  • personality: spitfire, possessive, quick tempered, emotional, sassy, passionate
  • notes: ringleader, center of attention, jealous of Sephiroth
Loz:
  • appearance: bulkier than Sephiroth by far, short hair, long sideburns, very squared face and thick brows
  • personality: goes along with Kadaj despite any misgivings, much more emotionally sensitive, playful, not neurotypical
  • notes: family oriented, perceived as childish
Yazoo:
  • appearance: most like Sephiroth, long hair, willowy build and similarly ‘pretty’ - tends to look bored until you really poke his emotions
  • personality: appears passive, willing to follow orders; has very few people/things he appears concerned with, but can become emotional when they’re attacked in some way, not very talkative
  • notes: has several of Sephiroth’s tics in CC, including the “hn” all three SHM have, fluidly graceful, appears to enjoy action
Now, yes canon said certain things. BUT CONSIDER:
Comparison of Kadaj and Genesis, side by side
Comparison of images of Loz and Angeal side by side, almost identical posing.
Comparison of Yazoo and Sephiroth side by side

I'm just saying, I don't think Sephiroth forgot everything.

wordmage: FF7 comet logo with FFVII written in black in the corner on a white background. (FF7)
A03 || FFN

CH2: Déjà Vu
Summary: At long last, things come full circle and the cycle of pain is over.

It had been the better part of a decade since the three of them had battled like this. It was in Midgar back then, too, though they’d chosen Junon as their virtual playground. Even now, Genesis wasn’t certain if that was really where things started to fall apart, or if it was just the first unhealing wound between them.

Pain blazed through him and he was forced to refocus, smiling wryly as he regarded the neat tear in his coat, feeling blood dampen the fabric beneath. Their fights had always been intense, but Sephiroth wasn’t checking his blows this time. The fondness he’d once taken for granted was replaced by an unsettling hollowness, everything about Sephiroth seeming washed out; the man he’d been seemed long gone. “I suppose you really have forgotten, haven’t you? Never let it be said I shied from the chance to beat some sense into you, old friend.”

Sephiroth sneered, but the real emotion wasn’t there. “I am a god. Stand against me and I will destroy you.”

Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing will forestall my return.” The words still came easily, but were bitter on Genesis’ lips. “You left me to rot once, my friend, yet here we are once again. The world may have forgotten who we once were, but I remember.

Sephiroth didn’t deign to reply, bringing his blade down hard, sparks flying as Masamune and Rapier met at full force - Genesis would give him no quarter, he never had. “You are a fool. It’s useless to resist, I will win.”

“Overconfidence will destroy you first,” Angeal said, spinning into Genesis’ place, the two falling into sync as if nothing had changed. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Sephiroth.”

There is no other way, you are only ensuring your death!”

There. There was real emotion at last, frustration flicking in those washed out eyes, and Angeal smiled wryly. “I’m already dead, Sephiroth. Just like you.”

“You’re nothing like me,” he hissed furiously.

“We’re the only ones like you,” Genesis retorted, black wing stretching to full glory, mirroring Sephiroth’s own. “Therein lies your only immortality, Sephiroth, that you will never be truly forgotten.”

“I will never be a memory.” Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed and he flicked his blade to the side in challenge. “No more distractions. I will not be delayed any further!”

“So be it.” Genesis ran a hand along the length of his blade, new runes lighting along it. “My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment to find the end of the journey.”

Sephiroth lunged, blade set to kill.

Enough!” Angeal met him blow for blow, wings straining to keep himself aloft under the force of it. “That’s enough, Sephiroth.”

Get out of my way,” Sephiroth snarled, too far gone to understand the bitter irony of his words. With a flurry of blows, he wrenched free of Angeal, wing beating hard to send him towards Genesis. “I’ll show you torment!”

In my own salvation,” Genesis continued, two great flaps of his wing bringing him up to meet Sephiroth, spinning in the air to gain momentum. He gasped softly when Sephiroth’s blade cut deep in his shoulder, managing a faint, bitter smile as he finished the verse. “And your eternal slumber.”

It was almost anticlimactic, somehow, to watch Sephiroth clutch at his chest where Rapier had impaled, shock written openly across his face. “But I…”

“Goodnight, my friend,” Genesis whispered, pulling his blade back and watching as Angeal caught Sephiroth, easing him back to the ground.

Angeal brushed Sephiroth’s bangs out of his face, smile soft and sad at the hurt and confusion that passed through washed out green eyes before they finally closed. “I’ll make sure he’s alright this time.”

Genesis huffed a laugh, nodding. “Take care, then. And if you ever put him back together, you keep that bastard in place. I’ll join you when the Planet is done with me.”

Angeal laughed, shaking his head. “Alright. Be careful, Genesis.”

“Mm.” He inclined his head slightly, watching Angeal curl his great white wings around them. In a moment, they were gone, a swirl of white and black feathers whirling away as a gentle rain began to fall.

Previous || Next
wordmage: FF7 comet logo with FFVII written in black in the corner on a white background. (FF7)
Original post from my directorlazard blog on Tumblr, prompt: write five unconnected scenes (300 words maximum each) involving only two characters. after reading all five, the reader should have a firm understanding of the two characters and their relationship.

As I ship Lazard/Sephiroth, this was a fun exercise to try and explain it all.
-----------------------------------------
 

Scene 1: Lazard’s POV [211 words]

Heiddeger gave me a headache on the best days, but with casualty reports constantly coming in sleep was coming less and less, and I think I was about ready to just haul off and hit him to see if he was really that dense. The way he talked, like the men were just… expendable…. He didn’t even have the excuse that there was an overwhelming number of them - SOLDIER was a small, elite force. Not that anyone was expendable, but gods damn the man, sometimes he made me so angry.

Sitting at my side with quiet dignity, Sephiroth had just touched my wrist. Just a touch, but I was wound so tightly that I snapped my gaze to him.

A tiny smile danced on the edges of the general’s lips, understanding in his eyes. His voice was so soft, barely a breath, that it was almost more a matter of reading lips to be sure what he’d said.

'We know.’

It was just a moment, unnoticed by the others in those few seconds, but… slowly, I felt myself relax. There was no real point in fighting with Heiddeger - experience had proven that time and again. SOLDIER knew how I felt about them, and that was really what mattered.

 

 

Scene 2: Sephiroth’s POV [241 words]

Lazard was going to be the death of himself. It wouldn’t be an executive order, it wouldn’t be an assassination, it wouldn’t be from an ill-advised training exercise with the men - he was going to work himself to death.

It was easy to tell when he was exhausted, particularly once the glasses came off. His eyes were too bright, mako eating through increasingly lower reserves, and there was a dark bruising beneath them that spoke of many sleepless nights. He had trouble sleeping to begin with, but he’d get stuck in his own head and run himself in circles - more than once I’d returned from a mission in the dead of night and found him awake, sometimes not even fully changed as he plowed through paperwork.

It didn’t help that he’d gone and caught something - I couldn’t tell what, he was doing a good job hiding it, but there was a husky note to his voice that would normally have been quite enticing if I didn’t know it was from pain. The usual handkerchief was conspicuously absent halfway through the day, an occasional breathless sneeze escaping despite his efforts as his body rebelled.

The look on his face when I came in and took his coffee, replacing it with honeyed tea, waspriceless. Somewhere between offended, embarrassed, and touched, but really, if the man wouldn’t take care of himself, then I suppose I had to do it myself.

 

 

Scene 3: Lazard’s POV [296 words]

I saw genuine pain in Veld’s eyes when he came to tell me - personally came instead of sending someone, though I doubted he was supposed to be out of the infirmary; I suppose I should have felt something for that - but it meant nothing.

My hand moved to my throat, uncovered this late at night, thumb brushing the scar still easily felt if not so easily seen, and my eyes lingered over the bandaged shoulder that was all that remained of a once strong arm.

A bitter smile twisted my lips as I met his eyes. Sorry was not enough. My mother… Veld, how could you? Mother… and your wife. Your daughter. I could tell they hadn’t survived it either, from the strain in his voice, and spared a brief moment to hope the three innocent women had died quickly and without suffering.

“How much does he get to take, Veld? Do you even have a line you won’t cross anymore?” Vicious words, despite the quiet delivery. But I meant them. Let him think on it. Let it haunt him. I didn’t care about his answer, however. “Go back to your Turks, Director.”

You have no place here, Veld. Not with me, not now.

I closed the door on him, swallowing thickly and leaning against it. I was barely aware of my surroundings until I was pulled against a broad, warm chest, heartbeat strong and alive beneath my ear. Young as my lover was, as awkward as he could be in his words, we never lacked for understanding in the silent reality of touch.

I needed that, then, turning to press my face to his shoulder, silver bangs tickling my cheek as he bowed his head and held me while I silently fell apart.

 

 

Scene 4: Sephiroth’s POV [194 words]

Do you trust me?

How can you ask me that, Lazard? How can you melt all this down, strip away all the confusion and conflict and pain and make this about trust? Genesis is gone. He left, and we both know he has no plans to come back. Not with what we know now.

What we know now… I can’t even… it’s too much. Too much. I focus on the now, on one of my best friends’ pain and suffering, and the question you’ve asked. Do I trust you? I barely recognize my voice, strained and harsh. “Yes.”

There’s a calm certainty in your gaze, the fierce determination that I love in you - love, are you really making it about that? Love and trust… that’s what it always comes down to with you. Trust, more than anything.

My hand grips yours as tight as I dare, mindful that you’re nowhere near my strength - unnatural, inhuman power - and I stare into your eyes as you promise me that if it is at all possible, this will be made right. That you will do everything you can for us.

And I trust you.

 

 

Scene 5: Third person [236 words]

It had been inevitable that eventually, with Genesis being taken care of and no immediate struggle he could take action on, Sephiroth would have to confront the very personal ramifications of the whole situation.

Project G.

Project S.

Jenova.

A massive black wing, two white wings, anger and pain and betrayal on the most fundamental of levels. Genesis was torn between seething rage and despair when his mind was clear, and when his mind began to slip… it was horrifying to watch, even more than the hint of white in his hair and the pallor of his skin.

Lazard was doing what he could, but it was hard. This wasn’t all right, and there was no guarantee it would ever be again. No guarantee that if - IF - they saved Genesis’ body there would be anything left of his mind. No guarantee Angeal wouldn’t go the same way, not now.

It was no comfort that it did seem much more certain that Sephiroth would survive, though not unscathed after witnessing this most personal of losses.

No guarantees, save one whispered with complete sincerity. Words backed by deed with unfailing consistency. Words whispered against the general’s lips, within a tight embrace.

You are who you have always been, Sephiroth. Knowing what they did to you well before you were born doesn’t change who you have become unless you let it. It makes no difference to me.

Profile

wordmage: Pen nib with a paw print (Default)
kittenfair

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios