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Springtide Terminus	By : victorsgrace Category: Final Fantasy VII > Het - Male/Female Views: 1955 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Crisis Core: FFVII or Final Fantasy VII and earn no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-New tides
- 2-Congratulatory celebrations
- 1
- 2
---* I love the deeper nuances portraied of Sephiroth in Crisis Core: FFVII, before everything truely went to hell. I love the way he seems to be glassily fragile, mentally, in certain situations and actually portrays an engaged and emotional side towards life, while on other sides being close to arrogant and very self confident. However, I am in no way turning him into a bleeding carebear, but I love the idea of this constant fight and mix between his more human sides and the inept, violent, malicious side bred into him.
Seeming so politely and controlably distanced from honestly close passion, physical or mentally, I believe he'd be quite removed and asexual from "carnal interactions". I think he'd be a character who felt most comfortable in controlled, formal interactions - so how would it go down, if he'd ever encounter all-out, upfront raw passion? Would he respond, yield, turn aggressive or withdraw?

Set a few years before Crisis Core FFVII, in the beginning on the Wutai war. Tried my best to keep him IC. Enoy! :D* ---

Sleek, marble-paled skin shifts and turns in repetitive motion, muscles rippling underneath. Flashes of silvery white hair diffuse the view, dissappears, and flows back again. A young man lies obliquely against a red benchpress, his torso downward slumped. Arms bent with fingers grazing his temples, his lean and slender body raises and lowers him, again, again and again.
His movements are seemingly effortless, no sweat covering his skin and his breathing is low, controlled.
The room is otherwise bare of life, the only company being the sterile, pale walls and various treadmills and other equipment. The electric light flickers very slightly now and then, not bothering his eyes any longer. In the background a soda machine humms drearily on, as if unaffected by his precense.
He likes it here. The artificial light and solitude sooths him, having been a part of him for as long as he can remember.
Being promoted and transferred has meant a new life, a free life. Suddenly having private, personal quarters had allowed more room to personal belongings and free time had meant independancy. Free of endless tests, grueling hours of training, shots, measurements, quizzess, studies on end...
However, having lived free and independant for only half a years time, he found himself stupidly bound by his enforced routine. His quarters were nice and spacious by his standards, he'd been delivered the best quality clothes, the best furniture gil could buy, luxury and honorable duties in the SOLDIER program. (He had ofcourse succeeded the recruitment program with excellence and barely eny effort, much to Hojos unhidden self-praise, millitary tests and trials being grooved hard into him for the past 8 years). But however luxurious, his living quarters remained almost totally bare, save the items delivered to him by his now assisting staff.
One of said items were a luxurious bedside table, laquered to elegantly reflect the soft lights decorating the room. He knew it should carry something equally elegant and beautiful, but was at a total stupor as to what. He'd seen many similar tables in the luxurious office areas of the Shin-Ra Headquarters after his promotion, but was at a blank as to how to replicate this mood. Somehow this small detail haunted him. He'd been staring at that goddamn table for hours at night for three months now.
He realized, as he tried out his chosen attire for this evening, earlier this morning, that he felt as laquered and empty as that godforsaken table. Turning away from the mirror, it'd stared him right in the face and suddenly he'd felt awkward and stiff in the tailormade suit. The cravat choked him.
The monotunous movements of his body on the bench soothed his mind a bit. Burrying himself in repetive, physical action was the best way to detach. He'd retreated to it on many a horrendous ocation during his life... Endless pushups on somehow perpetually chilly linoleum floor under that lifeless electric light.
Over and over...
But today it didn't quite do the trick. On his thrid hour now, his core still felt uneasy, his mind loose and over energetic. Tonight was a special night. Or at least so he was infomed.
"Now, Sephiroth" Lazards voice flew pleasantly towards him in the somehow always welcoming office of the Director. "I know tonight will be unfared territory for you". Wanting to appear more informal, Lazard rose and approached him from behind the desk, leaning against it. Still not completely accustomed to his new attire, Sephiroth felt his chestharness pinch his left side.
He'd have to adjust that later.
"And I cannot state how lucky and honoured we are to have you among our ranks now." Sephiroth smiled politely at this. To his left, The President resumed his handling of the preffered, overpriced liqour and poored the group drinks that'd have cost more than an average SOLDIER's yearly pay. Sephiroth eyed the silky liquid.
"However", Lazard continued with a polite nod to The President, whom handed him two of the drinks "I feel confident you'll do quite elegantly in the company tonight."
The cold crystal glass was handed him. Sephirtoh took it calmly, noticing his teint being reflected against the transparany of the glass. He never used his right hand to maneuver objects, if he could avoid it. Seeing the "1" inked on his skin cast back unwanted memories and he'd forced the hand away from his sight as best possible, a long time ago.
"Thank you, Director" Sephiroth formally chimed. They chinked glasses and drew a good gulp of the fine brew. Almost choking, Sephiroth let the burning velvet glide down his system. He never knew if he'd get accustomed to the liquor and was starting to loathe The Presidents meetings, knowing his generoity with the stuff.
As if on que, he joyfully refilled their barely empty glasses. "Sephiroth!", he cheered. "I can't tell you how enthusiatic I am with your new place with us! There was a time where I doubted that Hojo, but frankfully he always comes around." Sephiroth went slightly cold inside.
"Your latest accomplishment truely merrits celebration." the President continued. "Surely Wutai doesn't stand a chance, hah! I never doubted you!"
Again they chinked and Sephiroth felt his mind burn along with the liquor. Echoing cries of women and children drowned behind his eyes as Lazards merry laugh regained his attention. Already the liquor was having an effect on him, a slight blush burning his cheeks.
"Oh, well", Lazard chuckled. "all merryments aside. As you well know, tonight is very important to our plans." The President nodded emphatically to this. "It is of the utmost importance that tonight leaves a good and strong impression. I trust in your abilities to charm and bewitch the crowd with your impeccable charm and demeanour."
"Tell me, have your dance lessons progressed unhindered?"
Suddenly the eternal buzz of the electric lights and the Presidents slightly reddened expression rubbed him wrong. The leather polster assaulted his nose, the all too expensive pens seemed too flagrant and the Directors flawless hair seemed arrogant. Feeling trapped, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to through this ghastly, overpriced drink right in the Presidents face, glass and all. Instead he took another drew, letting the burn spread throughout his midsection.
"Without fail." He politely reassured.
"Good," Lazard smiled. Turning his attention to The President, he nodded. "Well," The President continued. The liquor already hung heavy on his breath. "I see my trust in the good Director hasn't failed. You're a right gem to this place, boy." the heavy, fat hand landed hard on Sephiroths shoulder, laying there like a decaying piece of meat. "Just between you and me, my lovely daughter's been chiming on about a certain dance tonight. She certainly carries a sharp eye for you. How about you save the first one for her, eh? Ha, ha! Have fun tonight! Remember, your promotion and replacement grants you alot of goods. Don't let them grow cold before your youth runs out!"
The red face winked at him, indiciating some sort of male lewdness, no doubt. Chucking his thrid glass of liqour, The President roughly bade them farewell.
Leaving, Lazard turned to Sephiroth with a softer and more private expression. "Listen," he said, taking the drinks from them both and leaving them on the ever perfectly laquered desk. Placing a warm hand on Sephiroths' bare chestcase, he continued "I know the last time has meant many changes for you."
Sephiroth simply felt the weight of the hand, the pressure and touch making his skin tighten slighly with yet another unwarranted contact. "Though I cannot begin to understand what it is you come from..." Lazard paused and continued in a careing, more frank manner "but what you will do here will indeed have great importance on many and may well change the very lives of the people of Midgar. You are indeed very important to this nation."
Such intimacy was still unknown to Sephiroth and he felt the blue eyes bore too deeply into his most inner recesses. "So," Lazard suddenly changed to a lighter tone, removing his hand. "just enjoy yourself tonight, allright? Let loose a little."
With this, they bade farewell. As soon as he left the office, Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and uncomplicated world, surrounded by the ever familiar walls of the Headquarters building. His mind still rummaging, he'd left to change and headed straight for floor 64 and hammered his body every since.
And still this unsettling fluttering wouldn't quite leave him. Finally stopping, he let his body heave for air in short, deep breaths. The strenght of them ecchoed lonely throughout the room and fell emptily back against him. Muffled screams and sounds of slashes flowed through him, mingled with ... nothing.
No emotion had truely filled him in the battlefield except... exitement. Covering his face and resting his head in said hand, he closed his eyes against it. Yielding Masamune felt incredible... How it had landed in his possesion already seemed otherworldy and surely fuelled his legendary image. Power had surged through him and the thrill of being free and unbound on the battlefield had enthralled him, cutting down numerous faces, falling easily in screams, tears and blood...

Their advance had been great and truly unrivalled, but shouldn't he feel - ..? Oh well. What did it matter, after all?
His new found duty rendered him an important purpose. He was now appointed head of SOLIDIER. He would be training new men, leading the spearhead itself. After all these years he was now almost free of Hojos suffocating presence and a new life had opened itself for him. A small hole inside him ached for Ghast, but was quickly burried. Pain and loss were exactly that - unretrievable. It served no purpose dwelling on such things. This was his destiny and he was more than capable of fulfilling it.
Feeling more at ease, his body effortlessly rose from the bench, only leaving a damp mark of his time spent here. Grabbing a towel and heading towards the door, a harsh buzz forced it open before he could reach it. A slightly older man entered, his dark, wild hair clearly announcing him.
"Angeal," Sephiroth politely greeted, still a bit reserved around the other SOLIDER of first class. Angeal, however, spread a warm and genuine smile across his face.
"Sephiroth," he gladly announce. "Good to see you. Getting ready for the big night?"
Sephiroth gave a friendly "hm" and shrugged, ducking his head and grabbing both sides of the towel resting on his shoulders, striding towards the door. Angeal chuckled back and headed towards the weights. "See you tonight, then." he greeted. Sephiroth let the buzz of the closing door serve as his own greeting.
Letting the humm of the elevator fill his mind, Sephiroth leaned against the cold wall. Seighing to himself, he counted along the floors passing by. Another moment alone to himself.
A mechanical "bim" enterrupted him and the doors smoothly slid open. A young, perfumed, well-groomed woman stepped in, her face lighting up at the sight of him. ("Sheila") he privately noted and quickly averted his eyes from her breasts, where they'd treatcherously gone on their own. Ofcourse not escaping her notice, this only added to the overly glossed up smile.
"Sephiroth!" she chimed in greeting. "Fancy meeting you here." She balatantly eyed his slightly moist frame, perfectly hugged by the white, military tanktop. "Best bred weapon in town, as they ay" she teased and flashed her perfectly white teeth in a grin. The ungraciousness of her humor baffled him.
Honestly, this woman.
He'd first eyed her shortly after beginning training with the elite SOLDIER's. It took some time for them to totally accept him: Some were fearful, most of them were just nervous around him, his reputation succeeding him even before his arrival. Every morning they'd meet on the training grounds to the first two hours of that day's workout. A week or so into this new routine, Sephiroth had suddenly seen a blonde, beautiful woman standing near the edge of the fence, eyeing them. Slightly interrupted by the sight of her, he emberassingly skipped a beat in their knee-high raises.
Ofcourse never faulting, this served him a reprimand from their commanding officer, even more irritatingly causing him to slightly blush. A braver one of the SOLDIER's next to him didn't fail with a teasing remark and a jab in the side, before being reprimanded himself. The training done shortly there after, Sephiroth again cast his eye towards the fence. The woman was still there, tapping away on her phone now.
"Nice legs, eh?" another one jabbed him in the shoulder. Sephiroth eyed this blonde guy. He couldn't remeber his name. He looked at the woman again. Her legs seemed fine to him, he guessed.
"Oh man," another one came over and whispered to them, eyeing their commanding furhter on. "I'd love to ruffle her sheets, if you know what I mean." Sephiroth got the meaning of this, but the importance elluded him. He'd been around kids and other youths growing up, but mostly during scheduled social studies or shared quizzes.
Not much time for chit chatter, really, and very rarely time for actual play of any kind.
"Yeah," the first one seighed longingly. "You know it's been over four months for me..." the first guy laughed at this and slapped Sephiroth on the back. (All this back slapping and side jabbing sometimes craved extraordinary patience from him, but it was getting better. The first day he'd backhanded the first SOLDIER to try this to the ground, with a split lip and a broken jaw. A short roughing up and 100 extra push-ups from their commander settled this, however). "You know", the first one continued. "I hear she's been plowing her way through the top ranks for quite a while now. Looking for that Top 10, I guess". He absently wiped his face with a towel.
"Who is she?" Sephiroth enquired curiously and eyed her again. Now she was clearly staring at him, still tapping away on her phone, though.
"Well The Presidents daughter herself, mind you. Not really fresh for the picking anymore, though, but I hear she gives an excellent roll in the sack." Seighing at his own words, the second SOLDIER left them.
"Man, she's really giving it to you," the first on stated, looking at her. Sephiroth felt a ominous chill. He didn't really know if it was her gaze or the ghastly fumes from the power plants nearby. "Better watch out," he teased. "she can smell status and excellence a mile away!"
Sephiroth smiled a bit at this and turned his back on her. He was of course male and in his prime, but sexual longing had never really struck him. In the few moments he could remember, he'd more longed physical care and empathy, being quickly shunned or neglected, however. The only person he'd ever felt any really care for was Professor Ghast, of course not in any carnal nature. However, having a high metabolism and ever speedy system, puberty had of course dug it's claws into him as anyone else and he'd for a period awoken with damp sheets, sweat on his brow and his mind flooded with the idea of mingling, grabby limbs and wet, moist crevices, luring
and enticing with their secrecy and unknownness.
Of course he'd also noticed sensation changes to areas of his body and experienced the infamous rogue, teenage boner - although always to his annoyance and discomfort, since a high strung training schedule didn't really leave room for such a thing. Never showering alone and
physical workout so many hours of the day also keeps your mind quite occupied.
Not having Ghast around to turn to anymore, he'd one day hesitantly tried querying Hojo about such matters and how you could best handle it. But never failing to meet his anxiety Hojo had laughed and teased him so badly that he'd redfaced and emberassed dropped the subject immediatly, never to take it up again. Being permanently connected to the Shin-Ra base now quickly introduced him to a much more masculine, brutely world with plenty of SOLDIER stories to boot.
They had a completely different air about the subject and he sometimes enjoyed listening in on their adventures, being able to marvel in it all unnoticed.
Once in a while a small group of them would sneak out and venture around in the slums at night, but still Sephiroth hadn't gone. Somehow that territory still felt uneasy to him, and being out of control and foreign in any situation was about the only thing still able to shake him a bit.
So he'd left it be and relied on his routine to bury his mind as usual. But this woman, Shiela - when first she'd cast her sight on him, it seemed she'd never let him go. At first he'd found it slightly enticing and exiting - a prime female positioning her direct gaze on him, much to the envy of the other SOLDIER's. But being in her overly aggressive sight quickly tired and drained him. She'd through herself about with physical touches, indications and very direct flirtations.
Feeling overrun and inexperiened in the field of flirting, Sephiroth tired and annoyed from it all. Up close her seemingly perfect appearance faded: Her artificial trimmings were evident in close contact and her aggressive perfume stung him, like her voice stung his ears.
Perfect timing to run into her, just now, he thought. Sephiroth irritatingly remembered The Presidents beckoning regarding the first dance and no doubt she'd already planned to have her way with him.
"Shiela," he greeted politely. She relished in his appearance, quite blatantly. "So are you feeling ready for tonight? I simply can't wait to see what snappy thing they're putting you into" she bubbled. Lost for words, he simply smiled again. "I'm on my way to see Daddy right now. He's promised me the most expensive dress, newest on the market! Oh! Oh, what colour are you wearing? Can you tell me, please? I'll match you, it'll be excellent!"
Something heavy inside him counted to ten and he kept a sharp eye on those red painted nails, always flailing around him. "Black," he simply stated. Seemingly much to her surprise, she gasped "Oh? Great! Oh, I know just the thing. Just you wait, Mr. General - I'll put something special on, just for you". She winked at him.
Something agressive inside him suddenly wanted to slam her against that elevator mirrorwall and - somehow - pound her repeatedly 'til she was out of breath, screaming and bleeding from at least several places. The thought itself flared a little in his groin, shocked him slighly and made him grind his teeth a little. Although he lacked the full imagination to how this would go, it would certainly shut her mouth for a while. Instead, he simply gave her his best poster boy smile and answered "Great."
Classic Shiela, her own domineering conversating eeming to satisfy her just fine, waving a cheerfull goodbye at him and leaving the elevator, he doubted she'd even really heard his answer. Seighing with relief, Sephiroth pressed the button again and felt tightly wrong-rubbed by the still small pounding in his groin. If Behemoth only had that woman...
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Springtide Terminus