♘ : Dreamscape
Warnings: War, blood, death
Effects: Feelings of nausea, helplessness, frustration, desperation
Privacy: If you believe your character might be traumatized by the above, it'll be filtered. THE MAN HAS NIGHTMARES, OK? XD
Other: Accompaniment
Transport helicopters whined overhead. He stared at the lush forest surrounding their encampment. ShinRa's finest, here under his command, ready to do-or-die here in the far off jungles of Wutai. Hell bent and glory bound, those were his men. Hand picked and proud of it.
------
Flame lit the forest. Men screamed as they fell, row upon row of Wutain solders to the staggering power of SOLDIER and ShinRa's infantry. Harsh smoke stinging his eyes, Sephiroth led the charge, steeling himself against those which fell under his blade; blood stained silver dark in the blackness.
------
They'd taken the city. Troops swaggered down the streets, loud and proud of their victory. In command HQ, their young general poured over the maps, planning and plotting their next campaign with utmost care. It was only when everyone decamped his quarters did he let himself whisper a prayer for the fallen.
------
Attack, attack, attack. Materia blazed its power over the demoralized troops; they scattered like leaves before the wind in response to the SOLDIER onslaught. Those who somehow managed to melt into the trees were cut down by ShinRa's infantry, bullets blazed through the air like raindrops.
------
He stood over the field of the dead. Thousands of them, stretching far into the horizon. Blood not his own covering his hands and blade. Smeared on his skin, burning. His stomach churned; the stench was overpowering. The sun was setting, but it seemed to weep for the carnage, the Planet's slaughtered children.
------
He'd never been one for prayer. In his command tent, alone, on his knees with head bowed. Silently, in the halls of his mind, he whispered, Please, let it be over soon. Please, let it be done. Please, let this misery stop. Please...please...please... Yet the madness continues on. He's helpless to stop it.
------
A hero. ShinRa's great General, conqueror of Wutai. The irony was staggering. Bile rose in his throat, hearing the city cheer and chant his name. Midgar's own treasure, a great leader of men. An idol. A protector. A defender. A hero. The very thought made him sick to his stomach. But still they chanted. Still they cheered. Still they believed...
------
[Sephiroth wakes with the sound of the throngs still ringing in his ears. He spies the damned device recording, but he doesn't even have the strength to turn it off. The pup beside him whines, knowing that something is wrong, and wiggles his way up to his master's shoulder to nuzzle at his salty cheeks. Only after a few minutes does Sephiroth reach for the device to switch it off, letting it clatter to the floor, still reeling from the memories.]
Effects: Feelings of nausea, helplessness, frustration, desperation
Privacy: If you believe your character might be traumatized by the above, it'll be filtered. THE MAN HAS NIGHTMARES, OK? XD
Other: Accompaniment
Transport helicopters whined overhead. He stared at the lush forest surrounding their encampment. ShinRa's finest, here under his command, ready to do-or-die here in the far off jungles of Wutai. Hell bent and glory bound, those were his men. Hand picked and proud of it.
------
Flame lit the forest. Men screamed as they fell, row upon row of Wutain solders to the staggering power of SOLDIER and ShinRa's infantry. Harsh smoke stinging his eyes, Sephiroth led the charge, steeling himself against those which fell under his blade; blood stained silver dark in the blackness.
------
They'd taken the city. Troops swaggered down the streets, loud and proud of their victory. In command HQ, their young general poured over the maps, planning and plotting their next campaign with utmost care. It was only when everyone decamped his quarters did he let himself whisper a prayer for the fallen.
------
Attack, attack, attack. Materia blazed its power over the demoralized troops; they scattered like leaves before the wind in response to the SOLDIER onslaught. Those who somehow managed to melt into the trees were cut down by ShinRa's infantry, bullets blazed through the air like raindrops.
------
He stood over the field of the dead. Thousands of them, stretching far into the horizon. Blood not his own covering his hands and blade. Smeared on his skin, burning. His stomach churned; the stench was overpowering. The sun was setting, but it seemed to weep for the carnage, the Planet's slaughtered children.
------
He'd never been one for prayer. In his command tent, alone, on his knees with head bowed. Silently, in the halls of his mind, he whispered, Please, let it be over soon. Please, let it be done. Please, let this misery stop. Please...please...please... Yet the madness continues on. He's helpless to stop it.
------
A hero. ShinRa's great General, conqueror of Wutai. The irony was staggering. Bile rose in his throat, hearing the city cheer and chant his name. Midgar's own treasure, a great leader of men. An idol. A protector. A defender. A hero. The very thought made him sick to his stomach. But still they chanted. Still they cheered. Still they believed...
------
[Sephiroth wakes with the sound of the throngs still ringing in his ears. He spies the damned device recording, but he doesn't even have the strength to turn it off. The pup beside him whines, knowing that something is wrong, and wiggles his way up to his master's shoulder to nuzzle at his salty cheeks. Only after a few minutes does Sephiroth reach for the device to switch it off, letting it clatter to the floor, still reeling from the memories.]