Just going crazy
Nov. 29th, 2013 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegunicentThe world has gone crazy since the end of the war. Seph is sure that peace, real peace, shouldn't be so blood soaked and dangerous. He knew who the enemy were in Wutai. He knew who to kill, how to fight, how to protect his people.
Now he's not even sure who his people are. Genesis and Angeal are both gone, missing, traitors but still brothers and he can't get straight answers from anyone. The SOLDIER's are still his men, except when they're not, when they're secretly monsters in men's skins, waiting for orders to mutate and change and attack.
Sephiroth has doubts he is even safe these days. What is he? What is anyone?
The only thing Sephiroth is sure of is that no one is safe. Nothing is safe. The war, as much as they say it's over, still wages in covert ways. People are still out to kill him and he is still expected to kill others. Peace is just a word for cover up.
He wishes he was back in the jungle sometimes. In the rain and mud, with constant mortar fire, curled up in his too-small cot he knew what was important. He slept easy. He could open his eyes and see milk-pale skin, hear a steady thrumming heart twice as fast as his own, smell youth and ozone and pet pale corn-husk blond hair. He could hold what was important safe in his arms, believing himself strong enough to protect it.
Now he had to take precautions, he had to be diligent and more careful. Only in his private rooms, bullet proof and reinforced, constantly monitored for bugs, was he certain that Sydney was safe. Happy? No, not truly, but neither of them had ever been very experienced with happiness. Safe was the best he could do for the moment, even if it meant he had to bespell the boy to Sleep when he left the apartments to keep him from trying to escape, and Silence him when the shouting and tearful arguments began.
It was the best he could do.
Now he's not even sure who his people are. Genesis and Angeal are both gone, missing, traitors but still brothers and he can't get straight answers from anyone. The SOLDIER's are still his men, except when they're not, when they're secretly monsters in men's skins, waiting for orders to mutate and change and attack.
Sephiroth has doubts he is even safe these days. What is he? What is anyone?
The only thing Sephiroth is sure of is that no one is safe. Nothing is safe. The war, as much as they say it's over, still wages in covert ways. People are still out to kill him and he is still expected to kill others. Peace is just a word for cover up.
He wishes he was back in the jungle sometimes. In the rain and mud, with constant mortar fire, curled up in his too-small cot he knew what was important. He slept easy. He could open his eyes and see milk-pale skin, hear a steady thrumming heart twice as fast as his own, smell youth and ozone and pet pale corn-husk blond hair. He could hold what was important safe in his arms, believing himself strong enough to protect it.
Now he had to take precautions, he had to be diligent and more careful. Only in his private rooms, bullet proof and reinforced, constantly monitored for bugs, was he certain that Sydney was safe. Happy? No, not truly, but neither of them had ever been very experienced with happiness. Safe was the best he could do for the moment, even if it meant he had to bespell the boy to Sleep when he left the apartments to keep him from trying to escape, and Silence him when the shouting and tearful arguments began.
It was the best he could do.
