[ It feels like admitting defeat, but at the same time, there's almost a freedom to it: the way that Sephiroth says you believe it will kill you and the realization that he almost hopes for it to do just that is gratifying. If there could be one small price he could pay, for all of his mistakes: for Zack, for Aerith, for Tifa, for the Planet, a painful, rotting death would likely suffice, a way to tie up all the loose ends with a neat little bow. Saving the Planet had been some last ditch effort to make up for his sins, and even that hadn't been his own doing--she had helped, they had all helped, and in the end, not much had been saved, anyway. The ground is still there, and many people are still alive, but there are so many bodies rotting under the ruined weight of Midgar and everything it represents that it almost doesn't feel like a win at all.
And it's frustrating, to hear Sephiroth not only disagree, but offer some sort of solution--it's frustrating because he thought that Sephiroth would at least confirm it, would agree that the geostigma would kill him, that he would at least have some sort of definite ending to look forward to. Instead, he talks of fate and the lifestream and it's almost like hearing his old self again; it's almost like hearing the confusing, taunting words of the monster that seemed to follow him wherever he went around the world.
Setting his jaw, his gaze lifts, jerks to where Sephiroth seems to struggle on the bed--more coughing, though he doesn't see the strange flowers just yet. ]
I'm not just gonna find some hole in the lifestream to jump into.
[ There's one wry hint of humor in his voice, though it's incredibly dry. ]
The last time I fell in wasn't really a great time.
[ With a frown, he flexes his fingers again; his arm aches a little, but he's not going to admit it out loud. Honestly, the exhaustion is so great that even laying at the food of the broken bed seems like it would be heaven; it means that his gaze ends up rooted on Sephiroth there, on the mattress, dazed as he thinks. ]
Besides, that's not going to fix our....issue. Whatever this is. Even if she-- [ A firm swallow; he shakes his head. ] No. We're not doing that. Get a new idea.
we love to see it
And it's frustrating, to hear Sephiroth not only disagree, but offer some sort of solution--it's frustrating because he thought that Sephiroth would at least confirm it, would agree that the geostigma would kill him, that he would at least have some sort of definite ending to look forward to. Instead, he talks of fate and the lifestream and it's almost like hearing his old self again; it's almost like hearing the confusing, taunting words of the monster that seemed to follow him wherever he went around the world.
Setting his jaw, his gaze lifts, jerks to where Sephiroth seems to struggle on the bed--more coughing, though he doesn't see the strange flowers just yet. ]
I'm not just gonna find some hole in the lifestream to jump into.
[ There's one wry hint of humor in his voice, though it's incredibly dry. ]
The last time I fell in wasn't really a great time.
[ With a frown, he flexes his fingers again; his arm aches a little, but he's not going to admit it out loud. Honestly, the exhaustion is so great that even laying at the food of the broken bed seems like it would be heaven; it means that his gaze ends up rooted on Sephiroth there, on the mattress, dazed as he thinks. ]
Besides, that's not going to fix our....issue. Whatever this is. Even if she-- [ A firm swallow; he shakes his head. ] No. We're not doing that. Get a new idea.