Chapter Text
His existence had withered away to this: Living for these brief, exhilarating moments that splintered the nothingness in between. Feeling the honed muscles contract as his wing flared wide. The weight of a sword in his hand, the steel glinting as it caught the light of the sun. The rush of violent winds as he soared higher, gusting through his hair and against his eyes and into his lungs in a way that nothing else could anymore.
And in a moment of fleeting clarity, Sephiroth cannot help but be fascinated by familiar and furious blue eyes. Closing in, they belonged to the only one that was capable of reaching him at such great heights. Those eyes flared bright with mako, moments before his puppet broke through his defense with practiced ease and a broadsword was driven forward through his chest.
Enraged howls echoed from the depths of Sephiroth’s mind that had nothing to do with the pain, an inhuman fury that drowned out his own thoughts in the face of his newest defeat.
There was no point in struggling against it. The sword was callously withdrawn and gravity did the rest. The sky raced past as Sephiroth fell. The darkness quickly encroached at the edges of his vision, but his Mother was always faster, elongated fingers digging in and dissolving away his form to be dragged back into the Lifestream, to reassemble collapsed organs and shattered ribs, to regenerate his blood with Her own superior equivalent, brought back to fight again and again and again no matter how many times it took-
…
But something was wrong. It was different this time. For the briefest instance, it was not his Mother that overwhelmed all of his senses as the glowing tendrils of the Lifestream coiled in close. He finds his eyes opening against his will.
It was the Cetra girl that stood before him across a white and endless expanse, wearing a simple dress with her arms held loosely behind her back. Her gaze was soft as she examined him, trapped here in this purgatory. It triggered something frenzied and hostile at his very core.
She is a threat. Kill Her. His body lurched up to immediately follow out Her command. A multitude of Mother’s appendages rapidly appeared over his shoulders and pushed him forward, pulling him in close in a protective hold. Kill her kill her kill her KILL HER NOW-
The girl's expression turned slightly apologetic. She stood there and watched him stagger down to his knees as something inside him forcibly ruptured in two.
It was the snapping of a chord woven so deeply into his person, he could feel how deeply it had thread through his skin, visceral pieces of himself torn away as the vital connection was suddenly severed. Serrated nails and teeth desperately dug into his flesh to bury Herself deeper regardless of how it shredded apart everything it touched, recognizing an imminent demise as it all began to rapidly burn away. It was more painful than any mortal wound he’s ever suffered. His Mother convulsed and screamed, an ear-splitting storm that completely exhausted his own desire to do the same.
The sudden silence that followed was somehow far more deafening. Only then did the brunette walk over to stand in front of Sephiroth’s prostrated, shaking form. He could not move, robbed of his Mother’s untamed ambition. “Sorry. That was a lot harder to accomplish than we thought it would be. You’re a tough nut to crack.” She tucked in her skirts and lowered herself to be at his level, ancient eyes searching through the haze of his own. She tilted her head slightly, a curled lock of hair falling past her shoulder as she hummed.
“...Oh. You wanted to save them back then, didn't you?” Her voice is a gentle breeze. Sephiroth does not understand what she is asking him, but she nodded all the same when she seemed to have found what she was looking for. “Alright. Give it your best.”
He could do nothing as she stood and brought her hands together with a resounding clap. The false reality began to collapse at her will, the vast white giving way to bright, searing green. There is nothing left to keep him tethered here, and he falls again. He feels himself falling and falling and falling-
And falling still even as he slowly lifted his head to find himself seated at a long oakwood table, surrounded by distorted, droning voices. A muscle along his jaw twitched, completely disconnected from the infuriatingly familiar scene playing out in front of him, his eyes unable to focus properly on any one face or any of the writing on the documents neatly stacked in front of him.
Gloved hands gripped tightly at the armrests of his chair, leather creaking as he tensed for a fight he no longer understood the rules for. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears while a representative at the head of the table went on about the quarterly budget, flowery excuses made for the more lavish expenditures in the report.
She was not with him.
He sat there and he could not feel Her no matter how far he reached for Her residual warmth, a stagnant void where She had once taken residence in his head and flowed freely through his veins. The very reason for why his heart still beats was simply gone, leaving him with nothing but disorientation and a slow-broiling rage to fill its place.
His Mother’s voice was not among the buzzing chatter of insects that filled this room.
The room quieted instantly as he rose, dozens of eyes tracking movement that was too quick and unnatural for their comfort.
“Oh, no you don’t.” An irritable voice bit out, an iron grip suddenly on his forearm and holding him there. Sephiroth stills. There should be no one left that would dare touch him, let alone shake him with an aggrieved huff. “If I have to sit here and suffer through this farce, so do you.”
In his peripheral vision, the coat is a distinct shock of red he would recognize on sight. Sephiroth does not want to look. He does not want to allow his gaze to meet the owner of that hand.
It must be a cruel joke, as this illusion of Genesis lounged in the chair next to his own, legs crossed and bouncing impatiently beneath the table. The man wasn’t even looking back at him, instead flipping through the file laid out before him with bland disinterest.
As someone seated at Genesis’s other side cleared their throat, Sephiroth’s sluggish mind finally recognized the room as part of an upper floor for ShinRa headquarters. A structure that should no longer exist. He had crushed it to dust beneath his heel. “Perhaps it’d be better if we continue this after lunch.” Angeal. Angeal. “I understand that this is important,” The redhead let out a soft snort that was duly ignored by the other man. “But I’m sure that a break will do everyone some good.”
The suit tuts as he adjusted his tie, unperturbed and condescending. A laser pointer was in his other hand and directed to the presentation projected onto the far wall. “Ah, but this is very important, very time-sensitive, you see. We still have much on our agenda to cover, surely eating a little later wouldn’t-”
“Oh, but can’t you see that our dear General is well on his way to a rather foul mood, after already missing breakfast? Do you really want to risk his wrath?” Genesis interjected with a mean little sneer. He yanked Sephiroth’s arm again when he still doesn’t sit back down, to no effect. “Really, at the very least you could have something be brought up for us.”
He finally turned to fully look down at Genesis, who returned it with a lazy challenge in his eyes, his usual dramatic flare. Something other than annoyance bled through the redhead’s features the longer Sephiroth doesn’t respond in any way, unblinking. Genesis narrowed his eyes as he smoothly uncrossed his legs and straightened out of his seat. He leaned in then, too close, suddenly far too real, and Sephiroth’s hackles were immediately raised.
“What-” Genesis began, only for the man to be cut off as Sephiroth abruptly grabbed him by the front of his uniform. Even when caught off guard the redhead was quick, instinctually attempting to twist out of the sudden hold but failing, before being unceremoniously launched through the wall of windows behind them, a shower of shattered glass raining down with a loud crash.
Chaos erupted immediately. Papers were flung in all directions and chairs were thrown back as the insignificant pests scattered and screamed in confusion and fear. Slowly turning his head, Sephiroth was brought face to face with this vision of Angeal, again alive and whole, expression frozen in shock as they stood at an unanticipated stalemate. The wind whistled sharply as the man’s eyes flickered frantically between Sephiroth and the fractured mess he had created.
He had known Angeal well, once. Well enough to anticipate the man making the split-second decision of charging forward and diving out of the broken window after Genesis. Sephiroth does not spare any of it another glance, not another thought, as he stalked out of the meeting room and down the labyrinth of hallways leading deeper into the building, as inferior beings shouted and scrambled desperately to get out of his path.
Sephiroth's very existence was incomplete, and he was now driven by a singular, feverish compulsion.
He had to find Her. Had to find his Mother.
Nothing else mattered anymore.