i don't b.elieve

[sophie]

ghosts are just
fairytales

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[kempff]

A train filled with memories. This was particularly familiar to Sephiroth, he'd spent a great deal of his early life on trains as a SOLDIER. He remembered the early days, amongst all ranks and into the later where it was simply the Director, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack. Their memories did not come back to Sephiroth however, he was far too focused on a feeling that had brought him to this train.

Someone beckoned him close, it begged darkness to find them. That wouldn't have been enough for Sephiroth, if not for when he saw her. He'd seen his mother Jenova, he knew he was of her, and they were both beyond mere mortals. This female was that, but something about her would not let Sephiroth pull himself away.

Since he was such an infamous figure, he resorted to wearing a dark black robe that fit around his entire body. Sephiroth didn't have to worry about anyone mistaking him for the now defunct Organization; he resembled more an old, tired beggar who did not particularly like to show himself. As such, people didn't watch him as he moved about. They didn't mind as he walked into another car on the train, stared into the next one at the female. No one was aware, or much less cared. When it stopped he got off on the opposite side, jumped into the air and let his wing shoot out as the train left. Sephiroth waited quietly outside the station, beyond view. Why was he following her? Because she reminded him of a rumor.

Certain enough time had gone by, Sephiroth came back down into the station. Already he'd have to catch up, which would be no problem. He decided to not attempt to mask himself when following her. He would not however, put himself in a position for her to call him out. And so the robed individual followed twenty paces behind this mystery woman, hood fully over his face with no clue of where he was looking.

[sophie]

i never listen
never tell

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[/b] Her voice was like an angel's, or so she'd been told. Soft and graceful, just like her step. If the wind had been blowing it might have been carried away. This was meant to make people lean in. Another strategy she'd learned from somewhere, but she again looked past it.

This man... Who was he? He held about him an air of power, despite being mostly covered. What was it he was after? It intruiged her. Perhaps she was mistaken? She dearly hoped so. A boring day would do nothing for her. She wanted this man to be just as how she felt him to be: far above herself. However! She wouldn't give off the feeling of the lesser. She would hold her place, hopefully also catching more of his interest than she already apparently had.[/size][/ul]

[kempff]

For a second, his hood rest on her face alone. The wind blew ripples against the fabric, pulled the sides up and out, and even flashed his face lightly to her. Sephiroth did not mind if she saw a little of his face, he doubted she'd seen enough from her distance. Though he couldn't doubt she'd know who he was.

A guttural, almost unpleasant answer came to her question. "Whuz this yur havin, dos ma pressenc bothur ye?" The man walked straight up to her, then moved to her side and looked at her face from two feet away. There was no doubt she would recognize him, so long as she knew who he was. Sephiroth's eyes focused on hers, every detail of her face was analyzed and considered like a specimen. He turned and looked at the clock tower in the distance, then nodded to her as if she should follow him. Just as he began to move Sephiroth gazed into her youthful features, beautiful eyes, and strangely curious expression; he gave her an honest intention of his, he would kill her if he wanted to.

Sephiroth turned away and began to walk again, the entire stare down in both occasions took barely fifteen seconds. He was sure it felt longer for her. As he turned a corner he began to move faster, darting past and through people and objects, Sephiroth would re-meet this female on his own terms and time. She was far too young for what he had thought, but a different purpose had already sprung into his mind.

[sophie]

call me a
non-believer

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[nascent]

There are those attuned to the stars, whose essence vibrates with the echoes of creation's own splendor and whose souls know the bitter anguish of existence's entropy.

It is said that nobody would notice the passing of a distant star... indeed, only a Nobody did.

Atop his rooftop outlook, the shadowmage stood. Blood-ruby irises gazed skyward where, in a faded gap of firmament not dominated by this world's preternatural sunset, the cosmic waltz played out against the backdrop of the void. Yet tonight... something was different. Perhaps it had been for some time now, but the mage couldn't shake the feeling... that the celestial lights were losing strength. He tried to tell himself he was being paranoid, that stars burning out was the normative course of existence, yet that gnawing uneasiness would not relinquish him. Stars going out... even with his memories prior to becoming a Nobody lost to him, he was certain that the notion of stars being extinguished was important somehow. Vital, even.

"It is... isn't it?"

It seemed the Voice, who seemed to know so much yet told so little, wasn't speaking to him tonight. Magus' perpetual frown deepened, yet there was naught to be done.

That's when he sensed it: an echo in the void, a presence clad in oblivion. Most likely a Nobody... but something else as well. In his mind he could hear the grim whispers, the twirls and screeching howls of an invisible malevolence. The Black Wind had begun to stir; somewhere in Twilight Town was a trigger for disaster. Magus closed his eyes, focusing his mind and reaching outward with his will in hopes of perceiving an answer, yet whatever had come to the sleepy hamlet was laying low for now, difficult to discern beyond a general direction.

He considered briefly whether to go in search of whatever was coming, but decided against it. Instead he set his sights on the clock tower, the highest vantage point in the vicinity... a reliable lookout post, indeed. The air whirled around him as the conjurer took flight.

What twists of fate awaited the Lost Prince of Zeal this night?

[kempff]

His pace had become frenetic, not for a moment would he rest with his steps. Shadow to shadow, darting in no pattern except to his goal, and on the way if one paid enough attention it would appear he was a black cloak flying above the streets; almost like a blur you see from the corner of your eye that you can never catch in your slow turn to ascertain what it was.

Sephiroth drew near the clock tower and then for no reason vanished down a shaded alleyway. By the time the girl behind him would come to see where he'd gone, there'd be nothing but the darkness he'd fled to in the small dirty space. Then she could choose her course of action, the clock tower as he'd indicated or lose interest altogether.

As for the robed man, his motivations were clear. Momentarily he was all but gone from the episode he'd just created, now he would blend with the shadows and move about freely just beyond the reach of those that stood. Perhaps the female would still feel a voyeur in her mist, ever present, and going nowhere.

[sophie]

but this is
real

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[/b] she commented, tiptoing ever closer into the alley. "I haven't even gotten a name." With this her eyes scanned the darkness. So he was one like that, was he? Her smile only grew at the thought. She, herself, had been likened to one born from the shadows. A Nobody, they called it. But was this truly so? She blended well with the light... No, she simply outdid the sun, even. Her place was in the light where everyone could see her and be tempted, while just below her feet stood the shadow that everyone thought of as normal. Such perfection as she was- not quite vain but close enough- it was an easy task to lure the unsuspecting.

It was only those of the shadows that understood her nature. It was only the ones like her that knew what she truly was. Did this prove that those in the shadows knew more? Because they saw more, both in the light and in the darkness? Those in the light could reveal everything if they wanted to, but it was rare to find someone willing to even weild a candle. They are so afraid of what they cannot see that they wouldn't even take the shadow's power away, which in turn only strengthens its hold on that person. What a sad, uneventful life.

She inched closer, looking around. He was here and she knew it, but her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness further down. Perhaps this was a sign? Had she been in the light too long? But alas, if darkness could it would probably caress her soft white skin. Perhaps she had been in the light too long, but she was still right at home here...[/size][/ul]

[nascent]

"There are many kinds of darkness."

The voice came from somewhere overhead, its tones grim, harsh, and regal all at once. At the far end of the alley, a figure descended, slowly hovering down until his feet gracefully met the pavement. A cascade of azure blue hair, garments befitting a man born into and forever expecting conflict and strife, including a long twilight-hued cape which fluttered behind him like a shadow upended from the ground. The faint gleam of blood-ruby eyes cast itself in the young lady's direction, his gaze one of searching and suspicion. The shadowmage Magus began tightening the fit of his left glove, gently tugging at the cuff as he set a slow, cautious pace towards the scarlet-haired rose.

"The shade, the shadow, the prevailing dark. That which lurks in the mind and every unseen place, darting out of sight the moment eyes fall upon it. The temptation, the nightmare, the sea of inky black from which fears and hopes alike are born." He stopped halfway to the girl. "I sense that there is a kind of darkness within you... the darkness of the black backdrop beyond the stars; the void."

"But there is something else in this town as well. A darkness of entropy . . . and I suspect that you," He pointed one gloved finger. "Are tied to it, somehow. Who are you, and why have you come here?"