[Sephiroth stares at Cloud for the longest time, holding back the bitter urge to cough up those wretched flowers or maybe to laugh at all those ridiculous words. Make it right? Make what right? Regardless of how he feels about humanity or anything there's no undoing of the past. No way to rewind everything and start over. All the pieces that have fallen -- good, bad, or anything else -- lay eternally with every action made, every word spoken.

He knows this and that's why even if his mind wasn't so clouded (heh) by darkness there'd be no point in regrets.

Sephiroth finally breaks his gaze away, and fall back into the make-shift mostly degraded bed. He looks to the ceiling as though answers are kept hidden there. Finding none, he represses a sigh though it does seep out a little in his voice.]

You believe it will kill you.

[Of course he does since that's what it's been doing to everyone else. Slowly, painfully washing them away with guilt as their bodies effectively destroy themselves.]

Those who die of Geostigma blacken the lifestream, become a part of something different. But you ... that fate isn't for you, Cloud. It never was.

[He wouldn't allow it. Those words are almost spoken before he catches himself into a huff that melts into a cough. He brings a hand to his chest, breathing rather heavily. Maybe Cloud, in a small way, is right. This is his geostigma. Not the actual condition, but something to make him suffer just as much as he's done to the world.

Maybe ... that is their fate. Suffering here. But Sephiroth is too stubborn to give up completely and just fade away. As for Cloud ...]

The lifestream might be able to heal you. She can probably guide it to.

[He won't dare say her name. He knows better than to start that kind of war, not right now.]