Jon will sigh, just a little. And then there'll be a change, a shift in the air. There's the feeling of being watched, of someone looking at you, noticing things, that there's no secrets you can keep. Even though he doesn't look any more intensely, there's the feeling of more: more eyes watching, more eyes focused. It's nothing he's doing, nothing that's changed in his bearing or his demeanor, his stance or his own focus. But the palpable dread, the sensation that something knows things you don't want it to know, and that if it doesn't know them, it will know them soon.
It's as undeniable as if he'd been on fire or ten feet tall.
And then, with a hard swallow, all of it draws back. Jon, for his part, looks almost pained from it but he puts a smile on.
"...I was having a smoke. And it's worse when I've just... taken care of my needs."
As the feeling washes over him, Sephiroth's eyes narrow. He takes an almost threatening, imposing step forward towards Jon as though he's fully ready to meet that sense of dread head on.
He makes no other move. Not one to attack or anything aggressive. But even after it stops, his gaze doesn't relax.
"I did not ask for a demonstration for why you were attacked."
Jon doesn't look cowed, but he does keep his eye on Sephiroth's.
"No, but I'm just about done with you acting as if you know a damnable thing about me, especially given how much you like to open your mouth about it." He crosses his arm. "And if you can tell me you'd have believed me if I said 'I feel spooky when I'm not really really trying not to be' instead of blown it off again, I'll apologize but otherwise, I think I'll just get to the rest of the business:
"Is there anything you need, or any concerns you have about the situation or in general?"
"Careful. You don't actually want to play this kind of game with me."
He completely ignores the question, and just looks at Jon like he's some sort of piece of meat that he needs to figure out. He didn't like that feeling, and partially wants to put Jon's head through a wall. But making a move would be showing emotion and he's above that being a godlike being and all.
"I'll consider you however I wish. You show enough of what you are by what you fear. Or who rather. Even if this will spark another argument over how that isn't fear."
Having been a godlike being of terrifying omniscience a couple of times, the very concept is deeply unimpressive to him. But he stays where he is.
"I'm not playing a game. Nor have I made any bones about my concerns regarding Elias, congratulations Captain Obvious. Nor do I care what you think about me because it's very clear you don't want to hear anything I have to say or even talk to me about anything other than how much you disdain me which... let me tell you, was tired a few weeks ago.
"You are my concern. Do you require any other assistance or do you have any other issues that a warden would need to address?"
"I disdain everyone, you are hardly special in that."
With a few exceptions that are complicated at best.
Trevor is a lot higher on the lost than Jon though. If Jon was super high he probably wouldn't speak to him at all.
"I already told both you and Zack my intentions if he attacks again. Provided you actually succeed in curbing his stupidity, then no. I have nothing further I wish to address."
"Yes, that's also very tired," he says with a soft huff. "Playing the jaded wine aunt to this ship is nothing to be proud of."
Deep deep sigh.
"Your intentions are... understandable, and I will again thank you for your restraint. Now, I'll leave you be and you know how to reach me if, miracle of miracles, you decide you need something."
He's been holding back on some powers he knows he can still draw from, just to keep the element of surprise. But he's still very curious. For all Jon acts about Elias ...
"There is something I am curious about--" Almost instantly his form shifts in a 'blink and you'll miss' fashion. Instead of Sephiroth standing there, Jon will see Elias looking exactly like he did on the network.
"Extremely curious," he says in a voice that matches the face. He might not be able to pull from Jon's memories to be an exact mimic right down to mannerisms, but as far as looks and sounds go ...
Well, right now him and the real Elias would be twins.
He gets a startle. Of course he gets a startle, followed by very wide eyed moment as he stares almost comically behind and around Sephiroth. But after that moment, after that startle, there's no fear.
The feeling from earlier doesn't return, he keeps his restraint, but his arms uncross and his fingers curl into fists at his side. He closes his eyes and there's something airy and dangerous in his tone.
"Well, that explains quite a lot, now, doesn't it." Not a question. "I hadn't been able to figure you out but this? This tells me quite a bit," a mirthless laugh. Stranger. A creature of the Stranger. Of course the asshole doesn't want to be known, of course he disdains the very concept of actually knowing, of course he revels in his ignorance and disdains understanding because he doesn't believe he can be understood. Those that unknow.
And he knows that that isn't true, that Sephiroth's from another world, that it's just a category for him to put the bastard in. But categories are useful. They help you think. Help you focus. He just has to be careful not to let it pidgeonhole him too much.
"Let me make this perfectly clear to you, Mr. Sephiroth: I am not afraid of what Elias Bouchard can or will do to me. Because he literally can't do anything worse than he already has. So this little game? All you've done is piss me off. Which you're good at doing anyway. So. Unless you would like me to take a good long look at you, See you for exactly what you are, and keep going, which is... significantly more than what I did earlier..."
"I would appreciate if when I opened my eyes, I see the correct asshole."
Sephiroth rarely backs away from anything, especially not a threat. He meant it when he told Dracula he didn't fear the unknown. He won't purposely walk into a monster's mouth, but he would step up to press an unknown button just to see what'd happen. That curiosity is partially a flaw but also makes him skilled in battle as he has no real fear there.
He has no idea how long he can hold this form, but he has no intention of changing back. This has angered Jon in some form. And anger is always something to hold onto, to try and reach in and curl his claws around.
So out comes a laugh, still not his own voice. "Not afraid and yet you close your eyes. Like a child hiding in the dark, eyes shut in hopes the monsters aren't real."
He continues to poke, and will continue to do so until he can see if Jon will break.
They think that because he chooses not to harm, because he chooses restraint, because he doesn't swing his fists or pull out a weapon and wave it around or threaten people that he's afraid. That he's weak.
They don't have the first goddamn idea what he's been through. Or even the first idea what he's become.
He wants-
Oh, Sephiroth has no idea what he wants, how he wants. John Seed, Elias, and now this one, how much he wants to rip them apart the way only he can, rip out their stories and tear down their walls and devour every horrible thing they've done, every horrible thing done to them, every terrible, awful thing they've done to themselves until he's drunk with it. That there is a part of him that doesn't care about being a warden, doesn't care about being a person, and just wants to know.
The way he talks about the Dark, the way he talks about fear; it's like being a world class surgeon and hearing some asshole at the next table in a restaurant explain to his date that internal bleeding is fine because the inside is where the blood is supposed to be.
And he's been pushed of late. Christ, how he's been pushed. Well past his breaking point multiple times, but there's no Tim or Daniel here, just bloody Sephiroth playing chicken with him like a spoiled child taking out his frustrations on him instead of the idiot who threw razors at him.
"You're the child. And I'm leaving," is what he says, and he's so damn proud of himself that he manages to get it out, especially when he moves to turn, eyes still closed. Just seeing 'Elias' right now will not help.
"And yet not one afraid to look at a monster in the face. Go. Run. Hide under the covers, hoping that someone will come save you."
He moves this time, to step forward almost following Jon almost going to get in his way. He doesn't fully do that but it does bring him closer.
Sephiroth is still angry about Trevor. Still annoyed he got hurt, that his abilities are gone or dwindled down so much that it happened at all. Someone like Trevor would normally be nothing, and so yes he's taking some of his frustrations out on Jon. He wants to watch him crumble. To break. To feel pain. As calm as he's being there's something darker inside that really wants to lash out at everything, much like what happened in Nibelheim years ago. Not nearly as strong as that moment, but it's there.
There it is. That is the point. That is the moment. That is when the wrongness of it, the pure aching inaccuracy of the bile that Sephiroth is spitting out hits a mark.
Because no one, no one has ever come to 'save' him. And the only person who'd ever tried? Deserved better than being mocked like that.
That feeling from before? It returns, with a vengeance as Jon turns and looks at Sephiroth. And those eyes aren't daggers, they don't stab or cut or pierce. They look Through. They See, and they see what Sephiroth doesn't want them to see, doesn't want anyone to see because that is what they want to Know.
"Hilarious," he says, utterly calm, completely unbothered, his posture loose and relaxed. Because now he's let go, now he's not trying to be a person. He's the Archivist. He's a living compendium of terror, and inside of him lives the darkest Dark and the deepest Buried and a vastness so Vast words fail it. He still feels the Corruption squirming in his skin some nights, and there's no telling if it's the Spiral warping what he hears or whether the Stranger's calliope or the Piper's violence sings endlessly in his ears. This fool thinks he can play him, but he's had the Web's strings tugging him this way and that since he was eight, knows their tug, just like he can feel the burning, heatless Desolation envelope his hand, the emptiness at the bottom of his ribs reminding him of all the pieces of Flesh that make him up. He has lived and he has Died and he has lived again and all were done, utterly Alone in every way that matters. He's even seen himself become something new and different and alien, seen himself and who he is and what he believes replaced, seen Jon Sims become the Archivist and he still doesn't know the way back from that, not completely. But the Hunt is in his blood as he looks at his prey, at this man who thinks he knows what fear is.
"You can't even face the man you were, let alone the things I've walked into, eyes very much wide open. I was closing them? Because I didn't want to inadvertently See something, I didn't want to hurt you in a way that no one here has much defense against. But clearly, that's not what you want. So fine. Let's look the monster in the face."
It's not a full extraction. He wouldn't dream of it, can't justify that to himself, even now, even here. But he's going to reach in and pull out something deep, something that this man does not want to face. With enough force to make the tape recorder in his pocket squeal in its own kind of terror as that knowledge floods through not just him? But Sephiroth as well.
And Sephiroth? Will feel it just like the first time, knowing Jon knows all of it, everything, right down to the last trembling heartbeat.
It is this moment that Sephiroth reverts back to himself though it's hard to say if it's because the time ran out or because of the feeling radiating off of Jon. For a moment he doesn't react, not to the feeling or the words. He stares with the usual smug mild curiosity. Like hew watching some sort of cataclysmic event about to happen.
But then it hits him. The memory washes over like a tidal wave. The place he recognizes, though there's an artifical feel much like the Enclosure. Two figures one reciting something from a book -- Genesis. He was at the reactor at Nibelheim. The other -- Angeal -- has the buster sword but ...
The two of them. He was familiar with them. They were friends. He can feel this.
Sephiroth actually takes a step back from Jon, bringing a hand up to his head as though it'll somehow make it go away.
The thrill of them engaging in a friendly sparr, that eventually gets serious as Genesis tries to take on Sephiroth alone. The rivalry between them, that was mostly one sided. Sephiroth didn't care, but he also wasn't going to let Genesis win. The fight goes to dangerous levels when Sephiroth really gets into it. If not for Angeal getting in the middle it might have ended up worse. That also feels familiar.
The fight only ultimately ends when Genesis gets hurt by his own actions of wanting to continue, leaving the illusion of the training room to come crashing down all around them. Sephiroth hates the feelings that come with all of this. The worry, the caring about Genesis, the frustration at himself for letting it go that far when he knew better. He wants nothing more than to claw it out of his head.
Jon is doing this.
His eyes snap back open, he didn't even realize he shut them when he went to back away and he lunges. Fully intending to grab Jon by the throat and slam him into a wall. To make it stop, to crush the source.
For the first time in years Sephiroth legitimately looks angry. Far angrier than he's been in a very long time.
Sephiroth grabs him by the throat, slams him into the wall. And even though he can't breathe, even though he can't speak, there's a satisfaction in his eyes, and the feel of those watching eyes-
They're not searching for secrets, because what's happening now is juicy enough. No, this is a malevolent gaze of someone who is watching? And enjoying your discomfort, your fear. Enjoying the fear of something being in your head that you didn't want to be there, the idea that more might come.
It's the fear Jon lives with every day of his life.
He can't answer, but it's obvious from his face, pained as it is: he has zero regrets. He dares.
And he'll dare again.
He is not afraid of Sephiroth. Not even a little. He never was and he never will be. No matter what he does to him.
It takes a grand total of two seconds after Jon’s body hits the wall for the door of Zack’s cabin to slam open. He’d been listening for something like this simply because Jon requested it, and the mixture of shock and confusion on his face quickly morphs into alarm as what’s happening registers.
Zack launches himself at Sephiroth, latches his arms around him, and tries to drag him off Jon with all the strength he has.
Sephiroth was fully ready to crush Jon's throat. To wipe that look off his face, to make him pay for worming his way into his mind. For bringing up things that were supposed to be gone for good.. To just claw him apart piece by piece until Zack made a heroic appearance.
Thankfully his strength is far less than it should be so Zack has no issues dragging him off.
Something that'd normally irritate if not frustrate him, but right now it pales in comparison to the anger currently boiling.
"Let go." He can try to fight Zack, but even he can't hope to over power the strength of a SOLDIER. Not as he is now.
Jon drops, and he'll shake his head and let out a cough, but he doesn't even sound froggy after that. Instead, his voice is clear if a little rough, some of the anger blunted but none of the indignance.
"Quid pro quo." Turnabout is fair play.
He turns to Zack, and his tone is more conciliatory.
Still hanging on to Sephiroth, Zack gives Jon a sharp look at the ‘quid pro quo’ comment. The kind of look that says they’re going to have some words later, and they may not be kind, either.
“Go. Now,” he grinds out — and no, he’s not letting go of Sephiroth. Not until Jon is well and truly gone.
Sephiroth finally stops struggling as much realizing there is not much chance of escaping to end Jon's life in this instance. But he does practically shoot daggers from his eyes in the direction of the other man.
Zack waits until he’s damn sure Jon is off their floor before he cautiously releases Sephiroth. Just seeing the other man like that has Zack agitated and more than a little unnerved.
He puffs out a soft breath, and he tries to ignore the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears. His voice, at least, is steady.
“Do you want to tell me what happened now or later?”
Sephiroth let's out a few heavy breaths, his eyes staring off in the direction Jon went. If Zack weren't standing there he might be tempted to go track him down.
Instead he pulls his gaze back to Zack. He's still clearly not in the best mental state right now.
Well, that’s good, at least. That Sephiroth isn’t trying to take off after Jon. Because this is such an…uncharacteristically emotional Sephiroth, that Zack still isn’t sure what to expect right now.
Sephiroth huffs, but otherwise doesn't answer, he just starts to head into Zack's cabin. He just wants to get out of the hallway and sit down. Which he does once inside and just kind of leans his face into his palm.
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It's as undeniable as if he'd been on fire or ten feet tall.
And then, with a hard swallow, all of it draws back. Jon, for his part, looks almost pained from it but he puts a smile on.
"...I was having a smoke. And it's worse when I've just... taken care of my needs."
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He makes no other move. Not one to attack or anything aggressive. But even after it stops, his gaze doesn't relax.
"I did not ask for a demonstration for why you were attacked."
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"No, but I'm just about done with you acting as if you know a damnable thing about me, especially given how much you like to open your mouth about it." He crosses his arm. "And if you can tell me you'd have believed me if I said 'I feel spooky when I'm not really really trying not to be' instead of blown it off again, I'll apologize but otherwise, I think I'll just get to the rest of the business:
"Is there anything you need, or any concerns you have about the situation or in general?"
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He completely ignores the question, and just looks at Jon like he's some sort of piece of meat that he needs to figure out. He didn't like that feeling, and partially wants to put Jon's head through a wall. But making a move would be showing emotion and he's above that being a godlike being and all.
"I'll consider you however I wish. You show enough of what you are by what you fear. Or who rather. Even if this will spark another argument over how that isn't fear."
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"I'm not playing a game. Nor have I made any bones about my concerns regarding Elias, congratulations Captain Obvious. Nor do I care what you think about me because it's very clear you don't want to hear anything I have to say or even talk to me about anything other than how much you disdain me which... let me tell you, was tired a few weeks ago.
"You are my concern. Do you require any other assistance or do you have any other issues that a warden would need to address?"
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With a few exceptions that are complicated at best.
Trevor is a lot higher on the lost than Jon though. If Jon was super high he probably wouldn't speak to him at all.
"I already told both you and Zack my intentions if he attacks again. Provided you actually succeed in curbing his stupidity, then no. I have nothing further I wish to address."
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Deep deep sigh.
"Your intentions are... understandable, and I will again thank you for your restraint. Now, I'll leave you be and you know how to reach me if, miracle of miracles, you decide you need something."
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"There is something I am curious about--" Almost instantly his form shifts in a 'blink and you'll miss' fashion. Instead of Sephiroth standing there, Jon will see Elias looking exactly like he did on the network.
"Extremely curious," he says in a voice that matches the face. He might not be able to pull from Jon's memories to be an exact mimic right down to mannerisms, but as far as looks and sounds go ...
Well, right now him and the real Elias would be twins.
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The feeling from earlier doesn't return, he keeps his restraint, but his arms uncross and his fingers curl into fists at his side. He closes his eyes and there's something airy and dangerous in his tone.
"Well, that explains quite a lot, now, doesn't it." Not a question. "I hadn't been able to figure you out but this? This tells me quite a bit," a mirthless laugh. Stranger. A creature of the Stranger. Of course the asshole doesn't want to be known, of course he disdains the very concept of actually knowing, of course he revels in his ignorance and disdains understanding because he doesn't believe he can be understood. Those that unknow.
And he knows that that isn't true, that Sephiroth's from another world, that it's just a category for him to put the bastard in. But categories are useful. They help you think. Help you focus. He just has to be careful not to let it pidgeonhole him too much.
"Let me make this perfectly clear to you, Mr. Sephiroth: I am not afraid of what Elias Bouchard can or will do to me. Because he literally can't do anything worse than he already has. So this little game? All you've done is piss me off. Which you're good at doing anyway. So. Unless you would like me to take a good long look at you, See you for exactly what you are, and keep going, which is... significantly more than what I did earlier..."
"I would appreciate if when I opened my eyes, I see the correct asshole."
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He has no idea how long he can hold this form, but he has no intention of changing back. This has angered Jon in some form. And anger is always something to hold onto, to try and reach in and curl his claws around.
So out comes a laugh, still not his own voice. "Not afraid and yet you close your eyes. Like a child hiding in the dark, eyes shut in hopes the monsters aren't real."
He continues to poke, and will continue to do so until he can see if Jon will break.
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They think that because he chooses not to harm, because he chooses restraint, because he doesn't swing his fists or pull out a weapon and wave it around or threaten people that he's afraid. That he's weak.
They don't have the first goddamn idea what he's been through. Or even the first idea what he's become.
He wants-
Oh, Sephiroth has no idea what he wants, how he wants. John Seed, Elias, and now this one, how much he wants to rip them apart the way only he can, rip out their stories and tear down their walls and devour every horrible thing they've done, every horrible thing done to them, every terrible, awful thing they've done to themselves until he's drunk with it. That there is a part of him that doesn't care about being a warden, doesn't care about being a person, and just wants to know.
The way he talks about the Dark, the way he talks about fear; it's like being a world class surgeon and hearing some asshole at the next table in a restaurant explain to his date that internal bleeding is fine because the inside is where the blood is supposed to be.
And he's been pushed of late. Christ, how he's been pushed. Well past his breaking point multiple times, but there's no Tim or Daniel here, just bloody Sephiroth playing chicken with him like a spoiled child taking out his frustrations on him instead of the idiot who threw razors at him.
"You're the child. And I'm leaving," is what he says, and he's so damn proud of himself that he manages to get it out, especially when he moves to turn, eyes still closed. Just seeing 'Elias' right now will not help.
He's leaving. Fuck this.
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He moves this time, to step forward almost following Jon almost going to get in his way. He doesn't fully do that but it does bring him closer.
Sephiroth is still angry about Trevor. Still annoyed he got hurt, that his abilities are gone or dwindled down so much that it happened at all. Someone like Trevor would normally be nothing, and so yes he's taking some of his frustrations out on Jon. He wants to watch him crumble. To break. To feel pain. As calm as he's being there's something darker inside that really wants to lash out at everything, much like what happened in Nibelheim years ago. Not nearly as strong as that moment, but it's there.
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There it is. That is the point. That is the moment. That is when the wrongness of it, the pure aching inaccuracy of the bile that Sephiroth is spitting out hits a mark.
Because no one, no one has ever come to 'save' him. And the only person who'd ever tried? Deserved better than being mocked like that.
That feeling from before? It returns, with a vengeance as Jon turns and looks at Sephiroth. And those eyes aren't daggers, they don't stab or cut or pierce. They look Through. They See, and they see what Sephiroth doesn't want them to see, doesn't want anyone to see because that is what they want to Know.
"Hilarious," he says, utterly calm, completely unbothered, his posture loose and relaxed. Because now he's let go, now he's not trying to be a person. He's the Archivist. He's a living compendium of terror, and inside of him lives the darkest Dark and the deepest Buried and a vastness so Vast words fail it. He still feels the Corruption squirming in his skin some nights, and there's no telling if it's the Spiral warping what he hears or whether the Stranger's calliope or the Piper's violence sings endlessly in his ears. This fool thinks he can play him, but he's had the Web's strings tugging him this way and that since he was eight, knows their tug, just like he can feel the burning, heatless Desolation envelope his hand, the emptiness at the bottom of his ribs reminding him of all the pieces of Flesh that make him up. He has lived and he has Died and he has lived again and all were done, utterly Alone in every way that matters. He's even seen himself become something new and different and alien, seen himself and who he is and what he believes replaced, seen Jon Sims become the Archivist and he still doesn't know the way back from that, not completely. But the Hunt is in his blood as he looks at his
prey, at this man who thinks he knows what fear is."You can't even face the man you were, let alone the things I've walked into, eyes very much wide open. I was closing them? Because I didn't want to inadvertently See something, I didn't want to hurt you in a way that no one here has much defense against. But clearly, that's not what you want. So fine. Let's look the monster in the face."
It's not a full extraction. He wouldn't dream of it, can't justify that to himself, even now, even here. But he's going to reach in and pull out something deep, something that this man does not want to face. With enough force to make the tape recorder in his pocket squeal in its own kind of terror as that knowledge floods through not just him? But Sephiroth as well.
And Sephiroth? Will feel it just like the first time, knowing Jon knows all of it, everything, right down to the last trembling heartbeat.
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But then it hits him. The memory washes over like a tidal wave. The place he recognizes, though there's an artifical feel much like the Enclosure. Two figures one reciting something from a book -- Genesis. He was at the reactor at Nibelheim. The other -- Angeal -- has the buster sword but ...
The two of them. He was familiar with them. They were friends. He can feel this.
Sephiroth actually takes a step back from Jon, bringing a hand up to his head as though it'll somehow make it go away.
The thrill of them engaging in a friendly sparr, that eventually gets serious as Genesis tries to take on Sephiroth alone. The rivalry between them, that was mostly one sided. Sephiroth didn't care, but he also wasn't going to let Genesis win. The fight goes to dangerous levels when Sephiroth really gets into it. If not for Angeal getting in the middle it might have ended up worse. That also feels familiar.
The fight only ultimately ends when Genesis gets hurt by his own actions of wanting to continue, leaving the illusion of the training room to come crashing down all around them. Sephiroth hates the feelings that come with all of this. The worry, the caring about Genesis, the frustration at himself for letting it go that far when he knew better. He wants nothing more than to claw it out of his head.
Jon is doing this.
His eyes snap back open, he didn't even realize he shut them when he went to back away and he lunges. Fully intending to grab Jon by the throat and slam him into a wall. To make it stop, to crush the source.
For the first time in years Sephiroth legitimately looks angry. Far angrier than he's been in a very long time.
"How. Dare. You."
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Sephiroth grabs him by the throat, slams him into the wall. And even though he can't breathe, even though he can't speak, there's a satisfaction in his eyes, and the feel of those watching eyes-
They're not searching for secrets, because what's happening now is juicy enough. No, this is a malevolent gaze of someone who is watching? And enjoying your discomfort, your fear. Enjoying the fear of something being in your head that you didn't want to be there, the idea that more might come.
It's the fear Jon lives with every day of his life.
He can't answer, but it's obvious from his face, pained as it is: he has zero regrets. He dares.
And he'll dare again.
He is not afraid of Sephiroth. Not even a little. He never was and he never will be. No matter what he does to him.
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Zack launches himself at Sephiroth, latches his arms around him, and tries to drag him off Jon with all the strength he has.
“Sephiroth, stop!”
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Thankfully his strength is far less than it should be so Zack has no issues dragging him off.
Something that'd normally irritate if not frustrate him, but right now it pales in comparison to the anger currently boiling.
"Let go." He can try to fight Zack, but even he can't hope to over power the strength of a SOLDIER. Not as he is now.
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"Quid pro quo." Turnabout is fair play.
He turns to Zack, and his tone is more conciliatory.
"Should I-"
Get out of here?
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“Go. Now,” he grinds out — and no, he’s not letting go of Sephiroth. Not until Jon is well and truly gone.
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"I'm gone."
An acknowledgement that they'll talk later. But he's running at top speed and on a different floor soon enough.
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He puffs out a soft breath, and he tries to ignore the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears. His voice, at least, is steady.
“Do you want to tell me what happened now or later?”
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Instead he pulls his gaze back to Zack. He's still clearly not in the best mental state right now.
"Not out here."
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He looks at him and nods slowly.
“Okay…your cabin or mine?”
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