Author's Note: Hello all! This is my first ever post to fanfiction.net, and the beginning of an 18-chapter story that I began shortly after Final Fantasy VII came out. If you'd like more, please read and respond. :-)
Bright Seraphim
Zero
He was already walking when he awoke.
He sensed that he was cold, but other than folding his arms around his chest, there was nothing he could do about it.
For a long time his eyes registered only a white blur as his environment. Gradually his eyes adjusted -- snow. He was surrounded by snow.
He stopped for a moment, looking at his footprints trailing out behind him in a relatively straight path. He was standing in a seemingly endless white snow field, with more fluffy flakes drifting persistently downward.
He continued in the direction he'd been going. He didn't know why. There was no reason to change...
He was a tall, lithe, sharp-featured man. He wore a long coat, silken pants, gloves, and high boots -- all black. The leather belt at his waist bore a silver emblem whose origin, at the moment, was lost to him. Over his shoulders he wore cold metal armor, the strapping of which crossed his bare chest. An impossibly long sword hung on his back. Most striking about him was his hair, smooth and silver-gray, which flowed down to his thighs as he walked, covering the bare sword but never cut by it. His icy blue-green eyes were half-closed, hidden under his long bangs.
There was a taste in his mouth, sharp enough to sting. Mako. He paused long enough to scoop snow into his mouth and spit, trying to wash the painful flavor away. Better...
He eventually realized that it was night -- the snow drifts now showed a dull blue-gray, and the sky was a blanket of thick gray cotton clouds.
Cloud
He'd fallen to his knees in the sudden darkness. He stood and began to walk again.
Who am I?
No answer.
Why did he expect an answer?
As he walked, he picked up the pieces of his memory and started to patiently puzzle them together.
Two pieces connected.
I am Sephiroth.
Another piece.
The warrior.
The greatest warrior.
The greatest of SOLDIER.
He decided to try to decipher "SOLDIER" later. He wanted to concentrate on his identity, not his occupation.
...So why were there so few pieces to his identity?
I am Sephiroth.
My family... My mother. My mother is... was... was Jenova. JENOVA
Something flashed in his mind.
He discovered that it was difficult to breathe, and realized that he was lying face down in the snow. He turned over and stared at the snowflakes falling peacefully out of the bleak sky. Calm and unhurried, they slowly wended their ways downward, gently melting where they touched his skin. After a while they began to lay there, tenderly covering him.
He noticed something pressing into his back. He reached over his shoulder and touched his sword. Masamune.
The warrior called Sephiroth struggled to his feet, pushing his hair away from his face. The snow, slightly disappointed, fell away from him.
He had to keep moving.
Close behind him, new snow erased his footprints.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its story, and characters (particularly Sephiroth) are the property, copyright and trademark of Square Electronic Arts L.L.C., and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes. The same goes for Clock Tower, Tekken 2, Soul Blade, Star Trek, Dark Shadows, Lost in Space, Pepsi, and any other games, television shows, movies, etc. mentioned in this fanfic: all belong to their respective owners. Clock Tower, its story, and characters (particularly Scissorman) are the property, copyright, and trademark of Ascii Entertainment.
Bright Seraphim
Zero
He was already walking when he awoke.
He sensed that he was cold, but other than folding his arms around his chest, there was nothing he could do about it.
For a long time his eyes registered only a white blur as his environment. Gradually his eyes adjusted -- snow. He was surrounded by snow.
He stopped for a moment, looking at his footprints trailing out behind him in a relatively straight path. He was standing in a seemingly endless white snow field, with more fluffy flakes drifting persistently downward.
He continued in the direction he'd been going. He didn't know why. There was no reason to change...
He was a tall, lithe, sharp-featured man. He wore a long coat, silken pants, gloves, and high boots -- all black. The leather belt at his waist bore a silver emblem whose origin, at the moment, was lost to him. Over his shoulders he wore cold metal armor, the strapping of which crossed his bare chest. An impossibly long sword hung on his back. Most striking about him was his hair, smooth and silver-gray, which flowed down to his thighs as he walked, covering the bare sword but never cut by it. His icy blue-green eyes were half-closed, hidden under his long bangs.
There was a taste in his mouth, sharp enough to sting. Mako. He paused long enough to scoop snow into his mouth and spit, trying to wash the painful flavor away. Better...
He eventually realized that it was night -- the snow drifts now showed a dull blue-gray, and the sky was a blanket of thick gray cotton clouds.
Cloud
He'd fallen to his knees in the sudden darkness. He stood and began to walk again.
Who am I?
No answer.
Why did he expect an answer?
As he walked, he picked up the pieces of his memory and started to patiently puzzle them together.
Two pieces connected.
I am Sephiroth.
Another piece.
The warrior.
The greatest warrior.
The greatest of SOLDIER.
He decided to try to decipher "SOLDIER" later. He wanted to concentrate on his identity, not his occupation.
...So why were there so few pieces to his identity?
I am Sephiroth.
My family... My mother. My mother is... was... was Jenova. JENOVA
Something flashed in his mind.
He discovered that it was difficult to breathe, and realized that he was lying face down in the snow. He turned over and stared at the snowflakes falling peacefully out of the bleak sky. Calm and unhurried, they slowly wended their ways downward, gently melting where they touched his skin. After a while they began to lay there, tenderly covering him.
He noticed something pressing into his back. He reached over his shoulder and touched his sword. Masamune.
The warrior called Sephiroth struggled to his feet, pushing his hair away from his face. The snow, slightly disappointed, fell away from him.
He had to keep moving.
Close behind him, new snow erased his footprints.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its story, and characters (particularly Sephiroth) are the property, copyright and trademark of Square Electronic Arts L.L.C., and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes. The same goes for Clock Tower, Tekken 2, Soul Blade, Star Trek, Dark Shadows, Lost in Space, Pepsi, and any other games, television shows, movies, etc. mentioned in this fanfic: all belong to their respective owners. Clock Tower, its story, and characters (particularly Scissorman) are the property, copyright, and trademark of Ascii Entertainment.