[He's not expecting to see that name flash across the face of the watch. That night still hangs in his mind, too vivid in ruminating thoughts, and there's complexity to the effect it has on him like he's never encountered. That, and a strand of guilt that he'd approach Sephiroth in such a fashion, again, while debilitated.
Perhaps it would be easier to clear from his head if he weren't also suffering a constant, burning frustration for the lack of a Bond.]
I'm managing. [A vague non-answer; he doesn't want to lie to Sephiroth, even if it would be easy (simple, better) to say he's fine.] I admit I'm surprised you would contact me again after my behavior.
[How do you talk to people without going from 0 to 100... Let's Try This Again:]
[The response is congenial enough, but also straightforward in that it does not dance around the behemoth in the room. Maybe all the better for it. Sephiroth isn’t trained in the art of delicate conversation, though he does find himself weighing his words before he types them.]
I’m [“fine”, he could say, too far from the reality to be the truth, but a measure of honesty is granted in turn] managing, as well. There have been developments both unexpected and complicated.
The night of the festival is one of them. I thought it would be prudent to clarify what happened.
[The first step in Never Talking About It Again is shining a lurid spotlight on the memory.]
[As Itachi was in the college library when the first message came, now he finds himself drawn fully away from the textbook open on the table. Already this conversation feels familiar to one they've had before.]
Yes, that would be wise. I expect you noticed I was not myself, and perhaps you were similarly affected, although I'm not certain of that given how it was left.
[The cold command, Don't follow, and Sephiroth's turned back.]
I was particularly out of control on that night and shouldn't have engaged you. I apologize.
I had been affected. I was careless with what I had consumed during the festivities.
[A lesson quickly learned; the carelessness had its consequences, and it bothers him, knowing that such a thing would have never happened to him back on his Planet.]
I left because its influence had worn off. I suspect that alone salvaged the situation.
However, I should apologize as well. For my thoughtlessness. What you saw that night isn’t me.
You're right. I presume we were drugged, though I hadn't expected it. [How could you betray him, tea...] Additionally, my own state was exacerbated by the new moons.
I know that isn't you.
[This message is left hanging here, for a moment. Their conversation is so dry-cut and reasonable it's no true struggle to ignore the fact he had enjoyed the exchange. It's certainly more logical to tuck that far into the back of his mind. Forever.]
[Enjoyment is a dangerous topic to hinge itself upon. It is obvious that they had both enjoyed themselves in the moment, perhaps a little too much; more worrisome was Sephiroth’s possessive streak instigated during the exchange, not something so easily tamped down once it barrels past the surface.
Even now, it has left its mark, perhaps the reason why he has reached out at all. A lingering fixation, demanding that he set things right, to the way they once were. An unwillingness to stay radio silent for weeks on end.
Like a bur stuck in the back of his mind. Best not to think of it that way, regardless.]
Yes.
Does this affect our training plans going forward?
[For all that remains still unsaid, this is reassuring. To retain the status quo between them is more important to him than understanding why he had reacted so strongly—even while under the influence of the tea and the moons, Itachi isn't certain anyone else besides Sephiroth in that maze would have driven such an extreme and immediate action.
Anyway.]
You mentioned other developments had occurred. Is everything all right?
[A mote of relief winds through him, but he packs that away with the efficiency of a man used to doing so.
A delay, however. It’s hard for him to know how to answer that question, but Itachi is the only one who would come close to earning one, beyond the others from Gaia. They had broached the subject once before, albeit in vague terms.]
Do you remember when I spoke to you about my future? About actions that I don’t believe myself capable of doing?
I spoke to those from my Planet and learned of the details. It’s worse than I thought.
I do remember. You were concerned about the events you were told would occur, as well as your own role in them.
[The man he would become, uncharacteristic and unrecognizable. Sephiroth had claimed the reason behind it must be world-changing. Then these details are that information; Itachi finds himself frowning at the watch, leaning forward against the library table.
It isn't normally in his nature to pry, and yet he wants to learn more about Sephiroth, if possible.]
Those from your Planet, several years into the future? Worse, because you still don't see yourself capable—or because of the actions themselves?
Yes. At least five years into my future. One is even further than that.
[His conversation with Cloud had revealed the truth. His conversation with Aerith had revealed just how far he had been willing to twist that truth in his hands, and use it as a means for destruction.
A mind gone astray, all restraint detached. The tea from the festival is trifling in comparison.]
Because those actions mean that I am a murderer. Worse than a murderer. And now I can no longer doubt I’m capable of it. You were right when you said that things could change, in ways impossible to perceive.
I’m restless as a result.
[More than that. Understating the poignant and affecting seems to be a theme.]
[Five years is a significant time. Sasuke is only a few ahead, yet they have still changed the person he is significantly, from what he's witnessed of his brother.
The rest of Sephiroth's confession draws a longer pause. Despite their charged interactions up to this point, they've shared little of themselves on a personal level. He has not opened up to many in this place—those he has, less by choice than Sasuke's relationships forcing his hand.
This he would prefer to do himself.]
Though it may seem unconvincing, or that I'm placating you... I am not unfamiliar with the experience you describe. Our circumstances may be different, but I've also been made to confront a version of myself capable of similar darkness.
[A murderer, worse than a murderer.]
It doesn't go away. But perhaps there is another route, if these events lie in your future and not your past.
I've found it's easier to become restless here, trapped within the limits of one city.
[That is what they have all said to him. That there is another path, another set of choices, than what has already come to pass. He wonders at it, sometimes. Wonders if it’s just wishful thinking, hope lobbed his way to soothe the knives in his mind.
But in a way, it’s appreciated — from Itachi, who offers his own brand of unexpected sympathy, detached from the context of his world, perhaps more so.]
Maybe so. If I return with the knowledge I have now about myself, events won’t align to the future that’s been told to me. My decisions will be different.
You mentioned to me once, in passing, that you had died. Does that affect the future you see for yourself here? Has it made confronting that version of yourself easier?
[Questions born of an overthinking mind, usually kept tamped down tight. He finds himself sending the text before parsing it down; but perhaps it’s fine, if Itachi would rather not speak on the matter.]
And it should be. When armed with knowledge, it becomes possible to make those different decisions. It is something immensely valuable.
[This first response goes, and the next one takes longer to come, Itachi's mind laboring over how to meet the question. He knows Sephiroth will wait. That patience is a balm.]
I've spent nearly half of my life confronting that version of myself. When I did what I chose to do, I understood I would carry the burden until I died. It was a price I accepted.
I don't imagine a future here. Admittedly, I have no choice but to live, so I do. [Even if he doesn't want to.] My younger brother is also here. I'm preoccupied more for his own future, which is still ahead.
Edited (why don't i proof read tho) 2020-06-28 18:02 (UTC)
[They have reached the tenuous point where Sephiroth desires to know more, but knows that this is not a subject lightly pried open and exposed — though he does not know Itachi intimately, this is an easy assumption to make.
He would feel the same way, after all.
And yet, harried as Sephiroth always is by the need to know, with something that has caught his interest and his want to comprehend his own situation by vicariously learning the experiences of others, it pushes him forward nonetheless.]
So death hasn’t given you freedom, only burdened you with another responsibility. Your brother.
[Maybe that is tactless, maybe without cloying kindness, but Sephiroth doesn’t send it to bite. Only to understand.]
I died, too. Or I will, supposedly.
[And then he returned but that’s... complicated. He reins himself in.]
Life gains a different perspective, knowing that. I suppose I’m asking you these questions to better orient myself to this reality.
You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to.
[It is an understanding, even as there's an initial, knee-jerk rejection to the idea of Sasuke as a burden. Sasuke is his reason to live. He has always been the one Itachi channeled existence and meaning into, when life became otherwise pointless. Yet Sasuke is his own person here—apart from his elder brother and connected to others, an adult, someone new and unfamiliar. He's seeing that more and more.
And he's also seeing, here, an opportunity for openness. If only it were so easy for either of them.]
I understand. It isn't a matter of wanting. My acts and reputation are well-known in my own world, so that isn't any secret. And I dislike the idea of hiding it here.
[Speaking about those subjects, unfortunately, leaves him bare and vulnerable to the questions of why? To let himself be so known by someone else...]
Least of all to an individual like yourself who warrants honesty from me. If anything I say is useful to you, then I will consider it justified.
If you have time, perhaps we should continue this conversation in person.
[Does he wish to speak about it in person? Text affords the comfort of distance, yet maybe the point is already long moot, given the topic at hand. What’s already been said.
The delay is not as long as might be expected. The response comes with little deliberation this time.]
I have time.
[He sends a location — the south eastern most section of the harbor district, where one can view the inbound ships pass by without getting in the way of the workers expected to tend to them.]
I’ll be here for a while longer if you want to meet.
[And so he will if Itachi comes to find him. Perched upon a rickety bench on a wharf that overlooks the distant creaking of docks stretching out into the sea, he’s quite the sight against the muted colors of dull wood — silver hair spilling across his shoulders, wings draped behind the backrest in a lazy splay. There’s a book in his lap, currently closed, and his gaze is fixed on the horizon, expression as distant as always, the scent of brine ignored.]
[It's a trek from Undermael College to the docks indicated—clear to the other side of the city, in fact—and not one timely managed on foot. Fortunate, then, he's practiced expanding the range of teleportation he can achieve; and fortunate he has the magic to burn for it, yet Bondless and passing that threshold of the third month.
A few strategic jumps, some walking, and a little over an hour later Itachi arrives in the harbor district. He veers southeast. The westering sun is hot on his back through this journey, scent of salt and industrial smog strong in the tepid air.
Sephiroth is not difficult to spy even at a distance, hair illuminated like a blade by the daylight over low warehouses, wings marking him for what he now is in that blatant, animal display. His silent footsteps halt, hesitating meters behind the bench near the cornered wall of a building. It's an uncharacteristic pause before he announces himself—or perhaps Sephiroth will already know he's there. But for a moment he simply looks; the physical memory of their previous encounter rides high into his mind, unbidden, observing that familiar profile and posture. Easier to forget when not confronted with the man in front of him.
Itachi forces himself into practiced composure, sweeps out all lingering thought, then finally approaches.] Sephiroth.
[Even before his slow transformation into a Harpy, Sephiroth’s senses had always outperformed that of a normal human. When he was younger, it was a fact pointed out to him by any number of attending scientists on any given day; that his amalgamation of heightened perception meant that there was very little in the world that could catch him by surprise, flank him unexpectedly. A boon on the battlefield, they had said, just one more in his ever expanding toolset of them.
So even before Itachi approaches, a part of Sephiroth senses him there — the sound of his footsteps, perhaps, or a bracing breath before he deigns to join him. Maybe something more akin to a known presence, harder to quantify.
Yet he doesn’t speak until he’s spoken to first, and only does so after he glances at the other man. The flagging sun, he notes, casts him in strange hues, muddied by the greys and browns of the surrounding docks, the darkening waters churning just beyond.
He thinks of their last meeting, and how different the energy was between then and now — how heated want twists everything into almost-desperation. Everything now feels so sedate in comparison, despite the memory that twinges at the back of his mind. He pushes it aside.]
Itachi.
[A beat. Again, conversation is always such a strained and clumsy art where Sephiroth is concerned.]
...Time seems to move strangely this close to the water. There was nothing like this in Midgar. [Yes, this is a proper hello after their conversation through text, right.] I’ve already finished my book.
[That sedateness is a shared sentiment, but the calm, almost somber nature of this reencounter gives Itachi space to think as he could not before. And the subject they find themselves gracing isn't one he could address without a clear and rational head.
Stepping over to the bench, his eyes lower to it, then he takes the seat to Sephiroth's empty side. They're closer this way—a fact he can't shut out in proximity to the elegant spread of those wings—but this feels more natural than standing for the conversation. He presses back, shoulders straight, and turns a dark gaze onto the ocean's vast, blue line where it touches the horizon.]
You're unused to it, then? I find the sight more familiar. Time does seem to move... slower, perhaps, when close to a body of water. [He eyes the swirling eddies around the wharf, then turns a quick glance to the book in Sephiroth's lap.] Hopefully it was a good one.
[Small talk doesn't truly suit him, so... After a considering pause:]
Do you fear it? The death they promised would be in your future.
[Keenly aware of Itachi’s presence as he settles next to him, Sephiroth wonders if it’s the nature of their conversation ratcheting up this cognizance, or simply the inherent nature between Monster and Witch. But he barely even moves, only the length of feathers and hair ruffled by the breeze gliding in from the brackish waters.
The death of idle banter is never one Sephiroth will mourn, though the answer is not immediate. Like all things lately, there is complication interwoven into how he feels about— anything.]
Fear? No.
[There is so little he fears. Shinra stamped that out of him so long ago, leaving only a deep-seated dread of more nebulous anxieties where they once would have rested.]
Because it would be a deserved death if it came to pass. And an impermanent one. But it makes me wonder of what could have been. If I had been born with a different set of expectations, or none at all, so much could have been avoided.
[Those words, an impermanent one, leave hanging questions. Itachi glances over from the corner of eyes as he listens to the admission in full. He's not surprised Sephiroth holds no fear of death; it would have gone more against his expectation and understanding of the man to receive a different answer.]
You're speaking as though this future is certainly going to occur. Is that what you believe?
[Gaze momentarily drawn to the stir of feathers in his periphery, he maintains an impassive expression. Watching Sephiroth is more compelling now than the ocean in front of them.]
[His lips twitch into a faint smile that is lacking even scant humor.]
I believe the chances of it occurring are the same as it not. Who’s to say otherwise?
[There is no guarantee that anything will change. If things stay the same, then they stay the same, Aerith had said, as simple as that.]
And they’re useless thoughts because I can’t change what’s already happened, or where I come from. [Perhaps related, the question bright enough in his mind to turn his cat’s eyes to Itachi—]
Are you close with your family? You said your brother is here, after all.
[Fair enough logic, and nothing Itachi is compelled to argue. He has no knowledge of these events of the past and future—and very little of Sephiroth’s world itself. He is also not the sort of man to encourage blind-sighted dreams when there is no evidence anything can be altered.
So he lets that hang, knowing he would feel similarly. He understands that feeling, in a faraway and distant way: what could have been. What would never be, now.]
No. My family is dead. [Honesty is deserved, and this isn’t secret.] When I spoke of my reputation, it was due to this. I killed them—all of those who belonged to our clan, except for my younger brother, Sasuke.
[The confession is plain and mildly said as he looks out across the ocean, eyes returned to the horizon line. He wonders how many more times he will have to face this admission, and whether it will ever be enough.]
[How strange it is, to hear that. To a man like Sephiroth, with so much inside of him hinging on a voided sense of family — a sense of belonging — the admission forms a paradox. The unimaginable, to take that anchoring point and abolish it willingly, violently; and balefully curious, the want to know why. To understand intent.
The reasoning is half of the story, after all. He finds he cannot being himself to find scrutiny or judgment in his response, because what sort of hypocrite would that make him? His hands will be stained with so much blood, if the future comes to pass.
Itachi looks at the sea, but Sephiroth can only bring himself to look at the man, as though to pull an answer from his expression before words can do the work for him. A steady, searching look that brightens in the waning sun.]
Why?
[There’s much he could say. Much he might still — but why not begin with the obvious.]
[As in the last time he made this confession, Itachi adopts an expression of blank severity, nothing in his outward demeanor suggestive of interior thought. He anticipates judgment to come, eventually—but he won't wait for it or hold expectation for what it might be. Sephiroth will form his own opinion.
Better to have this out, now.]
The reason is difficult to explain without an understanding of my own world, the one of shinobi—where violence is a language often used between hidden villages in disputes or disagreements. War is common. My home, a place called Konoha, had only recently emerged from the end of one. It left a permanent mark on many, including those within the Uchiha clan.
[It was a war he'd witnessed himself at only four years old, but this he keeps. It's not a necessary piece of information as it had been with Stiles, who might need context—he has the sense Sephiroth understands violence better. Perhaps he's wrong.]
My clan felt repressed and ignored by the village, so they staged a coup and expected I would help. [Itachi's eyes remain on the glittering water at a far distant point.] However, any attempts to usurp power from Konoha were likely to end in another war for the entirety of the population.
[He does, finally, glance to Sephiroth.] I couldn't allow this. [Itachi's voice remains cool and precise delivering that statement of finality. Logical, almost cold.] I don't intend for this explanation to serve as justification. As I said, I understood the consequences of my decision and accepted its punishment. It was necessary.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Perhaps it would be easier to clear from his head if he weren't also suffering a constant, burning frustration for the lack of a Bond.]
I'm managing. [A vague non-answer; he doesn't want to lie to Sephiroth, even if it would be easy (simple, better) to say he's fine.] I admit I'm surprised you would contact me again after my behavior.
[How do you talk to people without going from 0 to 100... Let's Try This Again:]
Are you? Well, that is.
no subject
I’m [“fine”, he could say, too far from the reality to be the truth, but a measure of honesty is granted in turn] managing, as well. There have been developments both unexpected and complicated.
The night of the festival is one of them. I thought it would be prudent to clarify what happened.
[The first step in Never Talking About It Again is shining a lurid spotlight on the memory.]
no subject
Yes, that would be wise. I expect you noticed I was not myself, and perhaps you were similarly affected, although I'm not certain of that given how it was left.
[The cold command, Don't follow, and Sephiroth's turned back.]
I was particularly out of control on that night and shouldn't have engaged you. I apologize.
no subject
[A lesson quickly learned; the carelessness had its consequences, and it bothers him, knowing that such a thing would have never happened to him back on his Planet.]
I left because its influence had worn off. I suspect that alone salvaged the situation.
However, I should apologize as well. For my thoughtlessness. What you saw that night isn’t me.
no subject
You're right. I presume we were drugged, though I hadn't expected it. [How could you betray him, tea...] Additionally, my own state was exacerbated by the new moons.
I know that isn't you.
[This message is left hanging here, for a moment. Their conversation is so dry-cut and reasonable it's no true struggle to ignore the fact he had enjoyed the exchange. It's certainly more logical to tuck that far into the back of his mind. Forever.]
It seems we have bad luck around one another.
no subject
Even now, it has left its mark, perhaps the reason why he has reached out at all. A lingering fixation, demanding that he set things right, to the way they once were. An unwillingness to stay radio silent for weeks on end.
Like a bur stuck in the back of his mind. Best not to think of it that way, regardless.]
Yes.
Does this affect our training plans going forward?
no subject
[For all that remains still unsaid, this is reassuring. To retain the status quo between them is more important to him than understanding why he had reacted so strongly—even while under the influence of the tea and the moons, Itachi isn't certain anyone else besides Sephiroth in that maze would have driven such an extreme and immediate action.
Anyway.]
You mentioned other developments had occurred. Is everything all right?
no subject
[A mote of relief winds through him, but he packs that away with the efficiency of a man used to doing so.
A delay, however. It’s hard for him to know how to answer that question, but Itachi is the only one who would come close to earning one, beyond the others from Gaia. They had broached the subject once before, albeit in vague terms.]
Do you remember when I spoke to you about my future? About actions that I don’t believe myself capable of doing?
I spoke to those from my Planet and learned of the details. It’s worse than I thought.
[A massive understatement.]
no subject
[The man he would become, uncharacteristic and unrecognizable. Sephiroth had claimed the reason behind it must be world-changing. Then these details are that information; Itachi finds himself frowning at the watch, leaning forward against the library table.
It isn't normally in his nature to pry, and yet he wants to learn more about Sephiroth, if possible.]
Those from your Planet, several years into the future? Worse, because you still don't see yourself capable—or because of the actions themselves?
no subject
[His conversation with Cloud had revealed the truth. His conversation with Aerith had revealed just how far he had been willing to twist that truth in his hands, and use it as a means for destruction.
A mind gone astray, all restraint detached. The tea from the festival is trifling in comparison.]
Because those actions mean that I am a murderer. Worse than a murderer. And now I can no longer doubt I’m capable of it. You were right when you said that things could change, in ways impossible to perceive.
I’m restless as a result.
[More than that. Understating the poignant and affecting seems to be a theme.]
no subject
The rest of Sephiroth's confession draws a longer pause. Despite their charged interactions up to this point, they've shared little of themselves on a personal level. He has not opened up to many in this place—those he has, less by choice than Sasuke's relationships forcing his hand.
This he would prefer to do himself.]
Though it may seem unconvincing, or that I'm placating you... I am not unfamiliar with the experience you describe. Our circumstances may be different, but I've also been made to confront a version of myself capable of similar darkness.
[A murderer, worse than a murderer.]
It doesn't go away. But perhaps there is another route, if these events lie in your future and not your past.
I've found it's easier to become restless here, trapped within the limits of one city.
no subject
But in a way, it’s appreciated — from Itachi, who offers his own brand of unexpected sympathy, detached from the context of his world, perhaps more so.]
Maybe so. If I return with the knowledge I have now about myself, events won’t align to the future that’s been told to me. My decisions will be different.
You mentioned to me once, in passing, that you had died. Does that affect the future you see for yourself here? Has it made confronting that version of yourself easier?
[Questions born of an overthinking mind, usually kept tamped down tight. He finds himself sending the text before parsing it down; but perhaps it’s fine, if Itachi would rather not speak on the matter.]
no subject
[This first response goes, and the next one takes longer to come, Itachi's mind laboring over how to meet the question. He knows Sephiroth will wait. That patience is a balm.]
I've spent nearly half of my life confronting that version of myself. When I did what I chose to do, I understood I would carry the burden until I died. It was a price I accepted.
I don't imagine a future here. Admittedly, I have no choice but to live, so I do. [Even if he doesn't want to.] My younger brother is also here. I'm preoccupied more for his own future, which is still ahead.
no subject
He would feel the same way, after all.
And yet, harried as Sephiroth always is by the need to know, with something that has caught his interest and his want to comprehend his own situation by vicariously learning the experiences of others, it pushes him forward nonetheless.]
So death hasn’t given you freedom, only burdened you with another responsibility. Your brother.
[Maybe that is tactless, maybe without cloying kindness, but Sephiroth doesn’t send it to bite. Only to understand.]
I died, too. Or I will, supposedly.
[And then he returned but that’s... complicated. He reins himself in.]
Life gains a different perspective, knowing that. I suppose I’m asking you these questions to better orient myself to this reality.
You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to.
no subject
And he's also seeing, here, an opportunity for openness. If only it were so easy for either of them.]
I understand. It isn't a matter of wanting. My acts and reputation are well-known in my own world, so that isn't any secret. And I dislike the idea of hiding it here.
[Speaking about those subjects, unfortunately, leaves him bare and vulnerable to the questions of why? To let himself be so known by someone else...]
Least of all to an individual like yourself who warrants honesty from me. If anything I say is useful to you, then I will consider it justified.
If you have time, perhaps we should continue this conversation in person.
no subject
The delay is not as long as might be expected. The response comes with little deliberation this time.]
I have time.
[He sends a location — the south eastern most section of the harbor district, where one can view the inbound ships pass by without getting in the way of the workers expected to tend to them.]
I’ll be here for a while longer if you want to meet.
[And so he will if Itachi comes to find him. Perched upon a rickety bench on a wharf that overlooks the distant creaking of docks stretching out into the sea, he’s quite the sight against the muted colors of dull wood — silver hair spilling across his shoulders, wings draped behind the backrest in a lazy splay. There’s a book in his lap, currently closed, and his gaze is fixed on the horizon, expression as distant as always, the scent of brine ignored.]
no subject
A few strategic jumps, some walking, and a little over an hour later Itachi arrives in the harbor district. He veers southeast. The westering sun is hot on his back through this journey, scent of salt and industrial smog strong in the tepid air.
Sephiroth is not difficult to spy even at a distance, hair illuminated like a blade by the daylight over low warehouses, wings marking him for what he now is in that blatant, animal display. His silent footsteps halt, hesitating meters behind the bench near the cornered wall of a building. It's an uncharacteristic pause before he announces himself—or perhaps Sephiroth will already know he's there. But for a moment he simply looks; the physical memory of their previous encounter rides high into his mind, unbidden, observing that familiar profile and posture. Easier to forget when not confronted with the man in front of him.
Itachi forces himself into practiced composure, sweeps out all lingering thought, then finally approaches.] Sephiroth.
no subject
So even before Itachi approaches, a part of Sephiroth senses him there — the sound of his footsteps, perhaps, or a bracing breath before he deigns to join him. Maybe something more akin to a known presence, harder to quantify.
Yet he doesn’t speak until he’s spoken to first, and only does so after he glances at the other man. The flagging sun, he notes, casts him in strange hues, muddied by the greys and browns of the surrounding docks, the darkening waters churning just beyond.
He thinks of their last meeting, and how different the energy was between then and now — how heated want twists everything into almost-desperation. Everything now feels so sedate in comparison, despite the memory that twinges at the back of his mind. He pushes it aside.]
Itachi.
[A beat. Again, conversation is always such a strained and clumsy art where Sephiroth is concerned.]
...Time seems to move strangely this close to the water. There was nothing like this in Midgar. [Yes, this is a proper hello after their conversation through text, right.] I’ve already finished my book.
no subject
Stepping over to the bench, his eyes lower to it, then he takes the seat to Sephiroth's empty side. They're closer this way—a fact he can't shut out in proximity to the elegant spread of those wings—but this feels more natural than standing for the conversation. He presses back, shoulders straight, and turns a dark gaze onto the ocean's vast, blue line where it touches the horizon.]
You're unused to it, then? I find the sight more familiar. Time does seem to move... slower, perhaps, when close to a body of water. [He eyes the swirling eddies around the wharf, then turns a quick glance to the book in Sephiroth's lap.] Hopefully it was a good one.
[Small talk doesn't truly suit him, so... After a considering pause:]
Do you fear it? The death they promised would be in your future.
no subject
The death of idle banter is never one Sephiroth will mourn, though the answer is not immediate. Like all things lately, there is complication interwoven into how he feels about— anything.]
Fear? No.
[There is so little he fears. Shinra stamped that out of him so long ago, leaving only a deep-seated dread of more nebulous anxieties where they once would have rested.]
Because it would be a deserved death if it came to pass. And an impermanent one. But it makes me wonder of what could have been. If I had been born with a different set of expectations, or none at all, so much could have been avoided.
All useless musings now, I think.
no subject
You're speaking as though this future is certainly going to occur. Is that what you believe?
[Gaze momentarily drawn to the stir of feathers in his periphery, he maintains an impassive expression. Watching Sephiroth is more compelling now than the ocean in front of them.]
Why are they useless?
no subject
I believe the chances of it occurring are the same as it not. Who’s to say otherwise?
[There is no guarantee that anything will change. If things stay the same, then they stay the same, Aerith had said, as simple as that.]
And they’re useless thoughts because I can’t change what’s already happened, or where I come from. [Perhaps related, the question bright enough in his mind to turn his cat’s eyes to Itachi—]
Are you close with your family? You said your brother is here, after all.
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So he lets that hang, knowing he would feel similarly. He understands that feeling, in a faraway and distant way: what could have been. What would never be, now.]
No. My family is dead. [Honesty is deserved, and this isn’t secret.] When I spoke of my reputation, it was due to this. I killed them—all of those who belonged to our clan, except for my younger brother, Sasuke.
[The confession is plain and mildly said as he looks out across the ocean, eyes returned to the horizon line. He wonders how many more times he will have to face this admission, and whether it will ever be enough.]
I was exiled for it, of course. The clan-killer.
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The reasoning is half of the story, after all. He finds he cannot being himself to find scrutiny or judgment in his response, because what sort of hypocrite would that make him? His hands will be stained with so much blood, if the future comes to pass.
Itachi looks at the sea, but Sephiroth can only bring himself to look at the man, as though to pull an answer from his expression before words can do the work for him. A steady, searching look that brightens in the waning sun.]
Why?
[There’s much he could say. Much he might still — but why not begin with the obvious.]
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Better to have this out, now.]
The reason is difficult to explain without an understanding of my own world, the one of shinobi—where violence is a language often used between hidden villages in disputes or disagreements. War is common. My home, a place called Konoha, had only recently emerged from the end of one. It left a permanent mark on many, including those within the Uchiha clan.
[It was a war he'd witnessed himself at only four years old, but this he keeps. It's not a necessary piece of information as it had been with Stiles, who might need context—he has the sense Sephiroth understands violence better. Perhaps he's wrong.]
My clan felt repressed and ignored by the village, so they staged a coup and expected I would help. [Itachi's eyes remain on the glittering water at a far distant point.] However, any attempts to usurp power from Konoha were likely to end in another war for the entirety of the population.
[He does, finally, glance to Sephiroth.] I couldn't allow this. [Itachi's voice remains cool and precise delivering that statement of finality. Logical, almost cold.] I don't intend for this explanation to serve as justification. As I said, I understood the consequences of my decision and accepted its punishment. It was necessary.
... Perhaps that's more than you wished to hear.
[Still, it's who he is. He won't hide it.]
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unseals can of worms
OH BOY
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