[It spoke volumes about Sephiroth- the fact that he viewed a long plane ride and this stifling, grey, depressing place as welcome. Because the Nibel region was anything but welcoming. Today was a day like no other. The skies are grey. Heavy with tension- the indication of brewing thunder apparent in both the gloom that dominated the sky, as well as faint rumbles, spread far apart.
The mountains themselves reach toward this greyness, twisted and contorted as if in agony.
Not that the turk's mind is on any of that. Instead, it is spinning in a far different direction. The handgun in his holster was a Winchester long barrel. Not his usual Shinra issue piece. Better for close range. Preloaded with a clip of 9mm bullets. Guaranteed to put a human target in the ground, velocity and power near perfect for lethality- capable of producing a wide wound channel even if death was not immediate. Enough power to tear apart vital organs beyond any hope of recovery.
Loud, though. Incredibly loud. Loud enough for those still within the manor to hear. Loud enough to make his original plan of doing this, then going into the mansion and taking a few shots at Hojo before he was brought down damn near impossible. Completely impossible, given the fact that whether it was needed or not, it would be prudent to fire multiple shots into this child.
This child.
His head's spinning, all right- and the thought of Sephiroth's age moves it off-kilter, spinning in a direction he does not especially like. And he is lost in his thoughts as he gazes toward the mountains.]
Hm?
[The boy's voice is a bit of a surprise to him. His question even more so. Like Sephiroth had not expected to be watched by anyone but scientists, Vincent was not expecting to be spoken to. Security. Nothing more. Here, on this job- his role hardly warranted being addressed for anything other than orders.
He turns, both of his hands empty.]
...Vincent Valentine. Turk.
[As his eyes move downward to meet the youth's gaze, again, it strikes him just how much like his mother the boy's countenance was.]
I've been told you're to remain out of the laboratory while the presentations are ongoing. And...
[Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for him. Stop.]
I thought you might want to take some fresh air while you have the opportunity. It's hard to come by in Midgar.
[Sephiroth seems satisfied with Vincent's answer and takes a few steps away to look around. It's very nice here, and so different from Midgar. He feels a little out of place no longer surrounded by the walls of the Shinra building. Even looking outside there didn't give the view this place does.
After a moment he turns back around to Vincent.]
Thank you. I like it here.
[Well, maybe not at this particular building, but the area in general is nice. He wouldn't mind that. In a way that's what he fantasizes about, being away from everything with his mother. It's the life he wants but could never have.]
They'll probably be in there awhile. Professor Hojo likes to argue.
[Argue until his points are known and recognized by everyone. Sephiroth does not particularly like him and probably never will. There's just something about him. So if they can stay out here for awhile, it'll be for the best.]
He probably won't like me telling you that. Or telling you that an easy way to get him angry is to say Materia is magic. He dislikes that word a lot.
[Sorry Vincent, Sephiroth usually doesn't have a people to talk to that aren't scientists. He's new and interesting and took him outside, which is good enough for Sephiroth at the moment.]
[At that, the urge to shake his head in incredulousness is strong- but he does not. Sephiroth was the first person he'd heard that actually voiced a positive opinion on this place- the ramshackle little village, or the foreboding mountains. He was tempted to answer. To say something along the lines of his approval not being necessary. That the region wasn't especially important to him, and there was no need to praise it because he was here.
...But he was a Turk. He was the perceptive sort. And the fact that the boy had stated approval of this was a signal to him- illustrating a life that was likely spent in sterile laboratories, loud drill halls, and artificial combat sims. Pity rises again. And he has to dig deep to push it back.]
Yes. I'm familiar with Professor Hojo's ...approaches to the sciences. And given Professor Gast's resignation...
["Resignation" was a word for it.]
...The Company's views have shifted to the same thing. Even if this does take a while-
[And it will. Because this whole affair is typical of Hojo. To cart half of the science department and three children with two respective families in tow, to the middle of nowhere for a dickmeasuring contest.
...But it's hardly his concern.]
-your transport back to Midgar has been prearranged. A chopper will arrive briefly, to take you to the airstrip, where you will be flown back to Midgar.
[He pauses then, something moving through his head before he starts to move toward the side of the building, past some dead trees.]
There were two boys here yesterday, for the same reason as you. While the... science... was being discussed, [And while Hollander screamed himself hoarse at an unimpressed Hojo,] they spent that time playing here.
[He had no idea what the both of them found so interesting about this little corner of the garden. But the evidence of their presence was still here in the form of footprints in the dirt- indicating running. Chasing. And perhaps even an impromptu playfight, given the fact the footprints trail off into what appears to be clear signs of scraped heels, slides, and general chaos.
Vincent strides around the area, soon spotting something in the bushes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The mountains themselves reach toward this greyness, twisted and contorted as if in agony.
Not that the turk's mind is on any of that. Instead, it is spinning in a far different direction. The handgun in his holster was a Winchester long barrel. Not his usual Shinra issue piece. Better for close range. Preloaded with a clip of 9mm bullets. Guaranteed to put a human target in the ground, velocity and power near perfect for lethality- capable of producing a wide wound channel even if death was not immediate. Enough power to tear apart vital organs beyond any hope of recovery.
Loud, though. Incredibly loud. Loud enough for those still within the manor to hear. Loud enough to make his original plan of doing this, then going into the mansion and taking a few shots at Hojo before he was brought down damn near impossible. Completely impossible, given the fact that whether it was needed or not, it would be prudent to fire multiple shots into this child.
This child.
His head's spinning, all right- and the thought of Sephiroth's age moves it off-kilter, spinning in a direction he does not especially like. And he is lost in his thoughts as he gazes toward the mountains.]
Hm?
[The boy's voice is a bit of a surprise to him. His question even more so. Like Sephiroth had not expected to be watched by anyone but scientists, Vincent was not expecting to be spoken to. Security. Nothing more. Here, on this job- his role hardly warranted being addressed for anything other than orders.
He turns, both of his hands empty.]
...Vincent Valentine. Turk.
[As his eyes move downward to meet the youth's gaze, again, it strikes him just how much like his mother the boy's countenance was.]
I've been told you're to remain out of the laboratory while the presentations are ongoing. And...
[Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for him. Stop.]
I thought you might want to take some fresh air while you have the opportunity. It's hard to come by in Midgar.
no subject
After a moment he turns back around to Vincent.]
Thank you. I like it here.
[Well, maybe not at this particular building, but the area in general is nice. He wouldn't mind that. In a way that's what he fantasizes about, being away from everything with his mother. It's the life he wants but could never have.]
They'll probably be in there awhile. Professor Hojo likes to argue.
[Argue until his points are known and recognized by everyone. Sephiroth does not particularly like him and probably never will. There's just something about him. So if they can stay out here for awhile, it'll be for the best.]
He probably won't like me telling you that. Or telling you that an easy way to get him angry is to say Materia is magic. He dislikes that word a lot.
[Sorry Vincent, Sephiroth usually doesn't have a people to talk to that aren't scientists. He's new and interesting and took him outside, which is good enough for Sephiroth at the moment.]
no subject
...But he was a Turk. He was the perceptive sort. And the fact that the boy had stated approval of this was a signal to him- illustrating a life that was likely spent in sterile laboratories, loud drill halls, and artificial combat sims. Pity rises again. And he has to dig deep to push it back.]
Yes. I'm familiar with Professor Hojo's ...approaches to the sciences. And given Professor Gast's resignation...
["Resignation" was a word for it.]
...The Company's views have shifted to the same thing. Even if this does take a while-
[And it will. Because this whole affair is typical of Hojo. To cart half of the science department and three children with two respective families in tow, to the middle of nowhere for a dickmeasuring contest.
...But it's hardly his concern.]
-your transport back to Midgar has been prearranged. A chopper will arrive briefly, to take you to the airstrip, where you will be flown back to Midgar.
[He pauses then, something moving through his head before he starts to move toward the side of the building, past some dead trees.]
There were two boys here yesterday, for the same reason as you. While the... science... was being discussed, [And while Hollander screamed himself hoarse at an unimpressed Hojo,] they spent that time playing here.
[He had no idea what the both of them found so interesting about this little corner of the garden. But the evidence of their presence was still here in the form of footprints in the dirt- indicating running. Chasing. And perhaps even an impromptu playfight, given the fact the footprints trail off into what appears to be clear signs of scraped heels, slides, and general chaos.
Vincent strides around the area, soon spotting something in the bushes.]
Wait.