Strange Arrivals [Aerith]

[Firion]

There had been a sense of motion. Not like riding an airship, but more easily perceived. As if the very land beneath his feet had slid away, carrying him across the country at a speed he could never hope to travel on his own. This sensation did not last long though; a moment, he thought. A single instant where the world shifted around him, dragging his helpless form to god knew where. Was that really what it felt like? Had it been so sudden? Or was it something that had been building up over time, like pressure in a shaken bottle of Champaign? Would it feel any different to him when it finally went off anyway? Why was he so confused?

Consciousness gradually returned to Firion. Soft brown eyes slowly opened themselves to the outside world. His senses, waking up alongside him, began to fill him once more. Something soft lay all about him, and his nostrils were filled with a sweet aroma. Far above him the sky stopped a wooded ceiling, with a single hole advancing to the wild blue. He blinked, still slightly disoriented. ....where is this? The fog that accompanied sleep continued to lift from his mind, and his body stirred amid the supple material that framed his body. I was...I was in Fynn. Maria and Guy were there. Leon was.....he left. So why am I....Where is..... The young rebel could now sense that the fatigue had left his limbs. He slid himself into position, and with a soft groan pushed himself into a sitting arrangement.

What met his eyes was both helpful and unhelpful; he still had no idea where he was, but it definitely wasn’t Fynn. The decaying structure was unfamiliar to his eyes. Some sort of....assembly hall, perhaps, with rows of pews for whatever sort of people might gather here. With the state of disarray the room was in he doubted there were many congregations these days. A few choice pieces of scenery even looked damaged, as though split apart in some sort of violent brawl. He scratched at the back of his head and made as though to move when his free hand brushed whatever soft substance he was presently laying in. Firion brought his gaze to the ground and found.....flowers? Indeed, he presently sat in the midst of a bed of pale flowers. He blinked, having been caught somewhat offguard by this development. Almost without thought he reached into the folds of his attire and drew forth the wild rose he kept on his person. They were not the same flower at all, but he couldn’t deny there was something symbolic about this happening.

(Think you can work with that? =/)

[Aerith Gainsborough]

[[OOC: Yes, I can~! It's wonderful, Crow~~ ]]

It felt so nostalgic and calming being within the familiar surroundings of her Church. With Meteor gone, and the upper plate of Midgar destroyed, the flowers had truly blossomed. Without her touch, the blessed water water and the bright sunlight had allowed them to flourish. It was a little ironic in a way, as she had wished to fill Midgar with all sorts of flowers, and now the damaged city was. Aerith let her emerald gaze flicker over all the budding bloom, her hand gentle cupping those that had yet to fully open. It almost came naturally to her now, as she had finally allowed herself to delve more into her Cetra blood. The lifestream beneath surged toward her hand, running through the flowers. The petals stretched before her eyes, opening toward the sunlight that poured in through the damaged roof. It was a little tiring, but it excited her to see her growing influence over the flowers.

Which was not the only thing that had gained something from the gaping roof.

Emerald eyes widened, and Aerith jumped back as a body fell through the ceiling. [Was that going to happen every time she set foot here?] The flowers had broken the young man's fall, but they would not bend beneath his weight. They had always been quite resilient to falling men. Concern soon overrode her amusement, and the young woman rushed forward. Kneeling beside him, she let her hand rest on his forehead, and she took in his odd appearance. Definitely not from this world, and she had seen many worlds since her first visit to Radiant Garden so long ago. "Hello? Are you alright?" she asked gently. His conscious mind was beginning to rouse, and she sighed in relief. No obvious injury to his person, and so she moved her hand to rest upon her lap. Quite handsome as well. She giggled at the errant thought, more concerned with his well-being.

Aerith watched as he took in his surroundings, her own presence seemingly ignored or unnoticed. That was alright, as waking up in a different world would be so disorienting. [She would know.] His gaze seemed to have settled onto the bed of white and yellow lilies that surrounded them. Her head tilted, and she watched with curiosity as he took out a rose from his outfit. Oh, how beautiful! Emerald eyes flickered to the lovely rose within his hand. The petals so vivid and red. Another flower she would enjoy growing within Midgar. "That's such a beautiful rose you have!" Aerith complimented, hoping to draw his attention to her presence. Her lips were curled into a bright smile, and her expression kind.

[Firion]

“That's such a beautiful rose you have!”

Firion nearly jumped at the sweet voice so suddenly ringing from such a close proximity, and just caught himself before he could fumble the rose. The final vestige of fatigue left his dulled mind as startled eyes fell upon the speaker. Sitting just on the edge of the flowers was a young woman, probably older than himself, clad in unfamiliar clothing of pink and red. How long had she been there? Had he really not noticed the brightly dressed girl maybe two feet away from him? No wonder he hadn’t been able to tell Leon was the dark knight. Once the shock wore off he smiled softly, looking back to his own flower. “Thank you. It is something very important to me.” Always glad to know there was another who appreciated the beauty of the wild rose, he slipped it back among his possessions.

As he moved his finger brushed lightly against one of the native flora, serving as a reminder that it remained. The pool of petals he presently waded in drew his attention once more. He had not realized just how much they stood out in this building. Even when surrounded by decay and ruin, these flowers continued to bloom and thrive with all of their might. This was not something that could go unnoticed before Firion; he knew all too well the strength of those with mighty hearts, even when the very world seemed poised to push you out of existence. He wondered if it was like this beyond the building, or if only this single structure was so corroded. “These flowers....did you plant them here?” It would make some sense, since he doubted many other people inhabited this place. Of course it was always possible that they grew wild.

And then another thought, somehow pushed to the back of his head by all that had occurred. He rose his eyes back to the woman, his expression subdued again but still carrying that single trace of wonder. “I know this may seem a strange question to ask, but....where is this?” It was becoming more and more evident that he was in unfamiliar terrain. This was not necessarily impossible, since even in the Rebellion there was always a chance that some speck of the world had gone unseen. But the architecture, and this stranger’s clothing, and....just the atmosphere in general seemed wrong. Like he was breathing a different air. Upon what soil did he awaken?

[Aerith Gainsborough]

Her eyes danced in amusement, watching as the male became startled at the sudden sound of her voice. Aerith smiled gently at him as he turned his gaze upon her. How different his style of dress was, and she took a moment to study the rather intricate design. Definitely from a different world, and she wondered what it could be. No doubt he was confused about this predicament, as it seemed he had not even meant to do so. Emerald eyes flickered back to the rose within his hand, and it was just such a beautiful flower to behold. If only she could see a field full of them. "You're quite welcome. I can tell by the way you keep it on you," she replied, her smile brightening. She could just tell it symbolized many things for this young man.

Aerith reached her own hand out to cup the yet-to-blossom bulb of a lily. It was becoming such a second nature now, even if she had always managed to do so before. The flower blossomed, and it felt like such a difference between knowing she could cultivate this barren land, and that she had done so blindly for many years of her life. Denial of her heritage, but now she embraced it. Aerith watched as he admired the flowers surrounding them, and she felt proud of what she had always managed to do. Her attention perked, and her head bobbed up and down as she nodded. "The potential was always here. I've just helped them along for quite awhile now," she answered. The Church had changed a little since she had been gone, but the flowers were still the same. She would have to thank Tifa and Marlene for taking care of them in her absence.

Aerith lifted her gaze, her brow quirking at his subdued expression. Her features softened, and she knew that his curiosity was burning. "You're not from here, right? This is Gaia, and you're currently in the remains of Midgar." So much to take in, but Aerith could just sense he was a strong spirit. He would take it with strength, and find a way back to his home. A small sigh escaped her lips, and Aerith stood from her knelt position, brushing her lightly dirtied hands upon her dress. If only good things could last for awhile, but she could sense something dark lingering on the horizon. The Planet's murmurings had been so disquieting, and now this male had landed upon her flowerbed. [Almost a normal occurrence at this point.]

"I'm Aerith, and you?" she introduced, her lips curling into a cheerful smile.

[Firion]

A particularly hefty breath departed from Firion’s lips as his query was answered. Gaia. He did not know what or where such a place was, but it was not home. Though he had suspected it almost from the get-go, to have it confirmed was not a pleasing sensation. His eyes momentarily fell out of focus, as though through the woman rather than at her. “.....I see. Thank you.” What did this mean though? What would prompt him hopping off to another where without warning? What of his friends? Were they around here too, scattered to the corners of this new land? Or had he simply left them behind? And on that note, how would he return? Having never heard of Gaia he could only assume it was not easy to reach, so how might he bridge the way back?

And then the maiden began to move. Firion blinked as his thoughts returned to the now. When she stood, he began to realize that he was sitting on the flowers. Not wanting to damage them alongside his sudden entrance, he too climbed to his feet and made his way out so as to not trample any more under his boots. He would feel something beyond guilt if his actions had ruined the bed in some fashion. When he did emerge, he received a name from his first sight in an alien world. Aerith. It was a sweet name, with a very gentile yet free feel to it. Fragile but spirited. Returning her smile, he replied “Firion. A pleasure to meet you, Aerith.” Always nice to have a name to go with the face. Who didn’t though?

Then, something she had told him earlier occurred to him. It was nothing major, but his curiosity about this world was growing if he was to be stuck in it. ]“Aerith, do you.....live near here?” It was an odd question, but he realized what she had called his present location: The remains of Midgar. As in what was left of it. Did he stand in a dead city then, like Deist? What had caused it to be so? If such was the case then it would seem unlikely for someone to dwell within.....except it made less sense for someone to travel all the way here to tend to some flowers when they could do it at home. Firion was not sure why he cared so much about this, but it now weighed upon his mind alongside the prospect of being stranded.

[Aerith Gainsborough]

Her expression soon became worried, watching him with concern as his gaze seemed to just become unfocused. It was a lot to take in, and no doubt the worry for his friends would be there. She reached out her hand, placing it upon his shoulder, her lips curling into a gentle smile. "I'm sorry. Don't worry. You'll find your friends, and I'll help you!" she reassured. Aerith thought that he had fallen into her Church for a reason, and perhaps she would be swept into another journey. Cloud and Zack had both been important parts of her life, and so maybe this male would, too. She allowed her hand to linger on his shoulder for a moment before she pulled back. Hopefully she would be able to cheer him up in some way.

Aerith giggled, watching as he finally realized he had been sitting upon the flowers. It had been an accident, so she would save him from a scolding. Her smile grew as she watched him take such care in walking onto the wooden flooring. Always wonderful to see another that appreciated the beauty and care for flowers. Aerith clasped her hands behind her back, emerald eyes flickering to the blooms he had landed on. Already, the flowers were springing back up as if nothing had happened. "Thank you for not stepping on the flowers, Firion," she replied with a sweet smile. His name suited him. Different like his appearance. Almost like an old world sort of charm. It was nice to see he had rebounded somewhat, but it would take awhile.

Her head tilted, and her smile became subdued for a moment. It did hurt that her home had been destroyed in the final outcome, but everyone was healed and rebuilding now. Midgar was no longer taking the lifestream from the Planet, and Shinra had been brought down a notch. "No, not around here anymore. I live in Edge, a city built around these ruins," she answered. Aerith smiled more brightly, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She spread her hands out in front of her, trying to convey the importance these flowers had to her. "Edge isn't too far from here. I just feel at home here, and it would be silly of me to leave the flowers after so many years here." It was like home, and where everything had begun.

"You have a lot on your mind. Ask anything you want."

[Firion]

To be honest, there was something about Aerith’s presence that prevented Firion from being completely lost in his predicament. She just had that sort of cheerful but gentle nature that embraced you and adamantly refused to let you sink into the mire of your own self-doubt. Maybe he was underestimating himself, but he felt that if she had not been near upon his awakening he might feel more lost than he already did. Her words, her smile.....barely a minute in this world and he was already glad that Aerith had been the first face he saw.

Her reaction to his query concerning her home did not go unnoticed. It became immediately apparent that this Midgar was not ancient ruin, but a freshly trampled civilization. All too much like Deist then, where he had watched the last wyvern perish under Palamecia’s toxin. From where Ricard, the last dragoon, had hailed before he sacrificed himself for the Wild Rose Rebellion. While it had saddened him to think that an entire society could be wiped off the face of the earth, he had never before understood Ricard’s pain. He was a warrior, and much of his grief only went to distill his battlelust for imperial blood. But here, in this petit woman, Firion thought he finally saw the dragoon on the inside. He had temporarily lost a home, but what Ricard and Aerith once knew could not be easily reclaimed. “I’m sorry,” he said, though she had given no prompting for such an apology.

Questions. Oh man, did he have questions. Firion rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze off to the left. “To be honest, I don’t know where to even begin.” He was still a little curious about Midgar, but good things wouldn’t come of delving into that right now. Maybe some other time. Perhaps if there was some capital or central city he should head to, or some custom he should be aware of to ease his travel. Maybe even some fundamental principle to Gaia that might be different, but that seemed unlikely; he breathed air and stood upon the ground, how different could it be? But then, something entirely different occurred to him. He had not expressly stated he came from another world entirely, but....she seemed to already guess that much. Heck, she had even informed him that he was on Gaia when asked for a location, rather than just saying Midgar. It was always possible that she simply assumed based on his mannerisms and some instinct of her own, but there was one final straw he wanted to grasp at.

“I do have one strange question though. Another strange one, perhaps, but....” He met Aerith’s emerald orbs once more, still feeling much like a newborn in this change of setting. “Is it routine for people from, ah, another ‘place’ to appear here? On Gaia?” If he was not the first, then maybe whatever boundaries separated him from his own world were thin enough for willful travel. It was a long shot, and there was no guarantee that his newfound companion would have any answers anyway, but no point leaving the stone unturned.

[Aerith Gainsborough]

Aerith was quite glad that Firion appeared more calm than when he had first awakened. It was nice to have at least one understanding person nearby, even if a total stranger. It was hard to experience, to take in, and to realize that his friends may not be here. So many worlds, but their hearts were always connected. A lesson she had learned more in depth from a certain Keyblade Master. Maybe it was just a part of her charm, not allowing anyone to be so saddened and somber. Many of her friends had been like that, but they were in a better standing now. Cloud was happy with Tifa and the children, and Vincent seemed to be more social. [One could never quite tell with the silent man.] Aerith was happy she could help Firion through this.

In a way, to actually see the state of Midgar had nearly brought her to tears. The city had been barren and full of corruption, trouble lurking about every crevice. It had been her home for so long, though, and part of her would love it. If only for all of the memories she had created for herself, but she still had them. Everyone had been saved, and now the Planet was recovering. The screams had finally stopped, and even now she could hear the gentle murmurings beneath her. The lifestream flowing like a thrum, and she was a conduit. Small amounts she could control to bring life to this land, and never to be used as an energy source again. Her smile was gentle, and she shook her head at his apology. "In a way, I'm the one who brought the outcome of Midgar, but everyone is so much better off now. I'll tell you the story sometime," she replied, smiling despite the sadness she felt.

Aerith bit back a giggle, the gesture reminding her of something Cloud and Zack would do. Would all the men she met be similar in some way? "Hmm, I see your point. Just think about it." Aerith thought about what she could do for Firion for the time being, as he would not really have any means of fending for himself. Gaia was utterly foreign to him, and she thought of a suitable idea. Until a means of transportation could be provided. Aerith made a mental note to talk to Cid, as he was the aviation expert. Clasping her hands behind her back, she wondered what he was thinking about. Questions, and what he would do? Life had such a way of throwing a sudden twist into the path, but it could certainly be made to taken at the best advantage.

Her gaze rose, and her head tilted to the side. A smile spread across her lips, encouraging him to ask whatever he wished to. "The worlds have been connected, and so you ended up here. You can go home, and maybe you're friends are here, too," Aerith explained. Maybe it was a saving grace he had landed here in her Church, and it was a relief that she could answer his questions. For now, it would be best if Firion worried about himself for the moment, as there was always tomorrow. Allow himself to settle, and become well rested before he no doubt started his search. Her idea flickered through her mind, and her smile became a little mischievous. "You should stay with me for now. That way you have somewhere safe to be, and I can answer any question you'd like!"

Maybe she was enjoying this a little too much.

[Firion]

(Sorry 'bout this. x__x)

“Brought about the outcome”? He did not let it show, but this probably surprised him more than anything that happened that day. Firion had taken her to be some ordinary woman, but here she spoke of a past much greater. In what way could someone such as her hold any involvement in the destruction of a city? It seemed so far-fetched. And yet it never once crossed his mind that she might be lying, or stretching the truth in any fashion. Aerith was legitimately saddened by whatever had happened then, and it seemed unlikely for someone to make such an arbitrary untruth. What would she gain from it? Clearly she had a magnificent tale behind her, and even if it were rife with loss and woe it would certainly be worth listening to when the time was right. It wasn’t exactly like he had lived an average life lately either.

Firion was visibly relieved to know that travel between his world and this one could at least be intentionally done. He did not like the idea of his friends being similarly cast about, but this way he could at least hope to find them if that was the case. “I see. That is good then.” He audibly exhaled, finding comfort in knowing that at least one great weight had been lifted….and then she made her offer. For a moment his heart gave one mighty beat, sending a surge of adrenaline throughout his body. The pulse came and went before he knew it, and the rebel did his best to quiet his nerves. Relax! It’s just her home! She’s only offering you a place to stay! For the most part he managed to drive back the rising feeling of tension, but his grateful smile had the slightest nervous hint to it. “I would be grateful for your hospitality. I would not be intruding though?” Well, she had made the offer herself so obviously not, but if she lived alone he didn’t want to leech off of her good will or anything.

[Aerith Gainsborough]

Her words would be a surprise, and it was a slight guilt she lived with each and every day. It to be done, as the Planet was saved, and Holy had deemed that humanity did deserve a second chance. Hope was still there for that redemption, and so had they begun. Healing and growing, and even the decline of use in Materia. Anything that came from the Planet should be cherished and observed with a respectful eye. Using the lifestream had harmed as it had helped, but things were becoming better. Emerald eyes flickered to the spring not too far off, and it reassured her in some ways. Everything was alright. For now, at the very least. Aerith smile lightly at Firion, a little glad he had not asked. After his situation was settled. Her life was anything but ordinary.

Aerith tilted her head, glad to see the relief that appeared upon his features. Her own friends had been scattered about, and only Yuffie had been there with her. A relief to have the energetic ninja with her, but Cloud and Tifa had not reappeared for quite some time. That meant Sephiroth as well, but whenever she thought of him, only confusion stirred. Aerith liked to think, if she had met him under different circumstances, she could have really understood him. Even after everything he had done, Sephiroth had been human before Nibelheim. Even the greatest of men could fall. So many possibilities and what-ifs, but Aerith looked toward the present and the future for what it was now.

Holding back the amused smile, she wondered if maybe she had asked a little too bluntly? Firion would need somewhere to stay, and Seventh Heaven was just too crowded. Aerith allowed herself to give a more reassuring smile, showing that it would not be an inconvenience at all. The company would really be nice, and she could hear all about his home. "No need to be nervous. You won't be intruding at all," Aerith answered calmly. Her emerald eyes sparked, and she clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward toward him. A teasing smile crossed her lips, but if he really wished to repay her for her offer~! "Well, if you're really worried about it, how about one date as payment?" she asked sweetly.

[Sephiroth]

It started with an ill wind.

Perhaps barely noticeable, but it was there, gently bending some of the flowers within the church. The unearthly wind held with it a strange chill to those sensitive to it. A chill that carried upon it a powerful feeling. The feeling of despair.

Seconds after that ill wind came a feeling: An oppressive feeling, one the very planet seemed to tremble at the very thought of. As this feeling passed over the church, it seemed as if light itself within the room seemed to dim. It was at this point that a single, sinister chuckle seemed to echo through the church. Behind the voice was not madness, but cold, ruthless calculation.

"It would appear that my initial attempt to kill you proved to be only a temporary solution."

The voice would be one that the planet recognized, howling in anger to those who could hear it as the statement was finished. This voice belonged to a truly terrifying creature. This voice belonged to an enemy of the world. An enemy who, in years passed, was once a hero. But one day, he realized what he was, and then began to hate himself. This hatred grew into a hatred of Shin-ra

And then it grew into a hatred of everything.

And this hatred, so profound, so immense, would not even allow the warrior to know the peace of death: an opportunity to return to the planet. His purpose unfulfilled, he was driven by endless despair to do the only thing he knew:

Destroy.

And so the fates had come full circle. This legendary soldier has once again risen from the ashes to bring about death and destruction. To kill those who stood in his way. To make the world as it should have been: the promised land of Jenova.

"In that case, I shall fix that mistake immediately." the voice stated flatly. There was, however, still a large hint of malace that could be detected.

A black shadow appeared over Aeris, reminiscent of events long passed. The legendary ex soldier believed in a sense of Irony: if he killed her once in this manner, why not do it again? the massive masamune in hand, He descended from the heavens, through the hole in the roof of the church. the harbinger was like an angel of death from the heavens, and as he descended he spoke his creed to the world.

"Die, Traitor."

[Firion]

Firion was glad that he might have a temporary roost in this new land. Honestly, he was. So why did his veins feel like they were going to explode? Mouth slightly agape, he found himself unconsciously edging back as Aerith leaned inward, unsure of what to do. His voice caught in his throat as he attempted to find a reply, which was all for the better since he had no idea how to respond anyway. Normally he might just have told someone to cut it out, but she had been - and in fact continued to be - so sweet and helpful. And then there were those lush lips, and- No! Stop that! Why was it always the pretty ones? Hilda (sort of) and Leila were mostly dealt with, and now this comely half-stranger was getting in on it. He really just hoped he was taking this too far in his head, but....

Then, the atmosphere changed violently. What was once soothing instead seemed somehow full of dread, as though the very sky could fall upon them at a moment’s notice to crush them under an unfathomable weight. It took him a moment to realize that this was not just him freaking out, and that something really was wrong. The effect actually calmed Firion’s nerves somewhat, hardening them to fine steel as the sense that a legitimate danger was about reached his brain. The source of the hazardous presence did not take long to reveal himself though; Firion’s mocha gaze whipped almost immediately to the ceiling as the man began to speak. He was unfamiliar in appearance, and again garbed in what he assumed to be the style of this world. But he held himself in a manner that reminded him of the Emperor, if somehow more malicious. Mateus had been a schemer, but this seemed like the sort of person who personally dirtied his hands.

The rebel wore a plain if somewhat hardened expression, but did blink in surprise when this individual told of some past attempt at murder. Surely Firion had never met the man, so then..........Aerith? His eyes fell back to the pink-clad girl. She had some past dealing with this man? His stare silently questioned this turn of events, but not for too long. The shadow in the skyward hole shifted as this stranger plummeted upon them. Upon Aerith. With little more than a surprised grunt Firion dashed forward, bending to scoop the flower girl’s legs with one arm while the other caught her back, effectively cradling her on the run. He continued this for a few steps before sliding to a halt, boots kicking up dust as he used the same motion to pivot and face the assailant. His gaze was steel, his voice fire. “I don’t know who you are, nor what your history here is....” Firion gently placed Aerith back on her feet and pulled free the crimson sword at his hip. “....but don’t think I will just stand here while you do as you please!”

[Aerith Gainsborough]

Aerith could see the flustered emotions pass through his eyes, and the few small steps he had taken back at her sudden closeness. Perhaps it was a little too soon to be pushing him into discomfort with her rather forward words. Her emerald eyes danced with amusement, and her smile became overly sweet. Biting her lip, Aerith let out a small giggle, but she soon leaned back. It was quite obvious that Firion was having trouble forming a coherent answer to her question, but it could wait. Her brow furrowed for a moment, a sudden keening sound echoing in her ears. A familiar sensation of resigned anticipation, and a unwavering resolve went through her. The playful words died on her lips, and Aerith sensed his presence before any word had been uttered. Fate would never cease placing them together in this way, would it?

The vibrancy of the Church fled with Sephiroth's appearance, and she turned to gaze up at him, emerald eyes widened with her surprise. Seeing and sensing were two very different things. "My death only proved to be your downfall in the end. I won't let you hurt my friends again," Aerith responded, her tone turning a little steely. His presence always sent a torrent of confusing emotions through her. Pity, empathy, and fear. No matter what she felt for him, Aerith would always protect those important to her. Aerith glanced to Firion, and she wished he had not been caught within this past of hers. His hatred, his despair for everything in this world in the next. Sephiroth continued to rise again and again, and as long as the taint of Jenova existed, so would his will. Her heart felt like such a drum against her chest, and the hate that tinged his words was not lost upon her.

Aerith glanced back to Firion, and her lips curled into a reassuring smile without thought. She did not want him to get trapped in her past like this, but regretting was too little, too late. A shadow fell upon her, and her glanced flickered back to Sephiroth. Masamune was drawn, extended as he descended from his perch upon the roof. It seemed he would always have a flair for the dramatic. For a moment, her mind flashed back to the memory that had ended and began everything. It was not fear that held her, but the shock of it all. Her attention focused back to reality, and her legs were swept from under her, and her weight soon supported by Firion. Her breath caught in her throat, but his quick thinking had certainly saved her from a rather ugly ending. Emerald eyes watched as Sephiroth's attempt failed, saddened that everything would come to this.

Her feet soon found purchase upon the wooden floor, being set down. Her hand reached out to grasp his arm, worry evident in the tenseness of her posture. What else could be done? Sephiroth was too far gone to be reasoned with, his sanity having deteriorated long ago. "I'm sorry for getting you involved, Firion." Aerith smiled slightly, and she reached out with her right hand, light swirling around her hand as Princess Guard soon appeared. Fighting was no doubt an inevitable outcome, but she would not allow Sephiroth to hurt Firion, or anyone else she held dear to her.

[Sephiroth]

Sephiroth fall to Aerith's location had been swift and fast: The harbinger preferred not to allow the cetra heratic to live any longer then absolutely necessary. For It was she, even in death, who had squandered his hard-fought war to bring about the promised land. It was she, again in death, who had corrupted the world with her false promises and hope by destroying the Geostigma, the very life blood of JENOVA's promised land.

In death, her memories harmed the future of the planet, and in life her mere existence meant that the promised land of JENOVA would be impossible. The Cetra impostor had to vanish.

And she almost had.

Sephiroth swore that, had that accursed vagabond not intervened when he did, Sephiroth's promise would have come full circle, and he would have impaled the heretic where she prayed, just like before. However, the son of JENOVA did not feel anger, sadness or despair for his failure to kill Aerith outright.

For he knew that her death would not be a matter of if, but a matter of when.

After landing, the harbinger easily pulled his sword from the ground with a single upward slice, cutting away at the numerous and hideous plants that lined the floor. The top of one of these so called "flowers" landing in his open right hand, Sephiroth examined it as he heard the vagabond speak, followed by the cetra heratic.

His response, as usual, was cold and solid.

"Your death meant nothing, heratic. You and your race of false prophets were simply puppets, dancing in the way of the promised land. I merely cut your vile strings and plunged you back to where you belonged in the abyss." Sephiroth coldly stated, not bothering to remove his attention from the remains of the flower he held in his right hand.

"As for you, vagabond, your involvement means nothing: you are simply another spectator in a battle far beyond your understanding or control. All you can do is watch and despair as I eliminate your filthy kind from my world..." Sephiroth explained, pausing at the very end.

Tossing the remains of the single flower he held into the air, Sephiroth's emerald eyes locked onto his opponents. A sinister grin accentuating his green, almost reptilian JENOVA eyes, he soon finished his statement before he began his attack.

"If you live long enough to see your glorious extinction."

At the exact moment the flower fell to shoulder-height level with the harbinger, he swung his sword, slicing the flower in two as he projected a 6-foot wide crescent-shaped projectile from his blade, its movement by no means instantaneous, but relatively slow. His opponents would have plenty of time to react.

But That was not the end of the harbingers attack. For behind his first attack he followed, taking several quick steps to close the distance behind his projectile. Once he had reached the optimal range for his blade (so that the tip would connect) Sephiroth swung a single, one handed right-to-left horizontal cut, aimed so that it would cut the vagabond's midsection after the projectile would have connected.

The dance of death had once again begun.

[Firion]

A slight snarl escaped Firion as the silver-haired man showily defiled the floral patch with his exceptionally long blade. Aerith had been more than clear in indicating that the flowers were an important part of her life. Because his attack had failed he would step on her wishes instead? He would not be forgiven for his thoughtless actions. As if in direct parallel to his growing anger, he felt the gentle touch of the girl next to him. Mahogany eyes swung first to her hand, then to Aerith herself. He only shook his head when she spoke, returning his introspection to the violent newcomer. “No, don’t be.” A diminutive smile formed across his lips. “This isn’t exactly my first murderous megalomaniac.”

And then he started running his mouth again. More of that “I’m better than you, fear me” stuff the Emperor had always been so keen to spout. Trash talk was one thing, but did they always have to act so high-and-mighty? Even Borghen had gotten in on that act, despite probably being less of a threat than the average Palamecian foot soldier. What concerned him was how he kept referring to his past dealings with Aerith. At first he had just assumed a murder attempt had occurred some time previously, but the more he spoke the more it sounded like a successful attempt. But how could that be? She stood here next to him, corporal as anything else here. He was probably thinking too hard into it. When they survived this encounter he would have more time to speculate.

Despite all appearances of being a physical combatant, the attacker opened with something more magical in nature. No complaints there; Firion and his group had some arcane tricks under their belt as well. As the arc of light formed he initially made plans to simply tumble over it and advance on the black-clad figure, but this was not a one-on-one duel. Aerith would need to avoid the attack as well. So instead of stepping into or over the oncoming slash, he shifted to the right so that his body stood between it and the girl. With a grunt he brought his sword down on the sweeping projectile with a two-handed slash, seemingly grinding it to a standstill. It kept coming though, and the wood cracked under his boots as he dug in to avoid being pushed back. Finally with a mighty grunt he broke through completely, sending what was left of the bend around them and crashing through the wall at their back.

But it was not over. As concerned with the oncoming assault as he had been, he had failed to notice the assailant’s advance. The man’s sword was simply too long; he did not have to cover as much ground to reach him, and Firion had no time to raise a guard. He stepped away from the swipe, but not quite soon enough. The slightest tip of the blade raked across his waste, drawing blood as it threatened to rend the layers of his skin asunder. Stumbling back, he raised a hand and filled it with the arcane energies only recently mastered. A wreath of fire sprung up from the appendage, dancing majestically within his digits and along his palm. As the blood still flew from his open wound he unleashed Fira upon his foe.