Gun AU - Ch 11

[warmskies]

Rosso's first course of action upon waking up is to try and tear out his throat.

With her teeth.

Well, he was expecting that, really.

It's a bit of a blur in terms of action, her limbs trying to strike out wherever she can possibly land, him attempting to fling her off of him because he knows that will make her feel better. Not as better as if she'd gotten to shed blood, but at least something in the right direction. Around him, there's a chorus of yelling; Sephiroth ignores it all.

His attention is on the redhead skidding back against the dirt, her heels stirring up dust, before she's lunging forward again. "It's alright," is what he manages to say over his shoulder before he goes to meet her.

Rosso doesn't say anything. When she focuses, nothing can dissuade her. He learned that a long time ago. This means that he has to speak; it's never been his strong suit. Still, Sephiroth tries. For one of his first friends, he'll try. "Rosso," he says, grunting only a little bit when he blocks a sweeping kick. He won't pull out his word. Refuses to. "I'm sorry." Because what else is he supposed to say? He can't say it wasn't what it looked like. It was. And he cares too much about Rosso to keep lying to her.

Granted, the truth doesn't make her any happier. She just makes a sound that could be half snarl, half laughter, and she's right back at it trying to cause whatever damage she can get away with. For a second, Sephiroth wonders if saying anything more will just make her even angrier and he should stop now.

A fake out towards his chest, only to go into a swipe towards his face. He jerks his head back and decides that she probably can't get angrier. Probably.

"I should have made the choice sooner," he says inbetween blows. He should have. Because at least then- "I would have been more honest if I had." Would he? He wants to think so. At the same time- "I'm sorry that I wasn't sure if I could tell you anything. You should have come with us much sooner."

Another sharp bark of a laugh, right as they hit into a deadlock with his hand catching one fist. The sharp points of her claws dig into his palm uncomfortably. He'd take it over this conversation. Definitely he would take it over this conversation. "Come with you? So you would be so cocky as to steal two weapons away from ShinRa? Your pride as a weapon really is something to be impressed by!" Over to the side, he thinks he can hear at least a few different sounds of offense from the way she describes them. It can be something to worry about later. For now, he has to move hastily when she tries to kick him down to the ground once more. "Well I could hardly care about that!"

"I know." He manages to get those two words out barely in time before needing to forcefully fling her away again, if only because that's the only way that they're going to be able to talk together at all - if he can buy even a second to breathe and speak. "Are you angry that I lied to you?"

"Who says I'm angry!?"

Alright, that might actually have been very distinctively the wrong thing to say. At least, he can recognize the sort of laugh Rosso makes in response. "And why wouldn't it be good?" she forces out between clenched teeth as she continues her relentless assault. "To kill the man who made such a fool of me - anyone would be delighted!"

Well. He guesses she's not wrong. Or, at least, this seems very right for someone like Rosso. Sephiroth can't exactly say he's ever felt the same but that doesn't matter. Even so. "I can't let you have that," he says, feeling the air whistle at a jab from her sharpened fingertips. "I have something important I need to do, now. People I need to protect." Rosso is actually one of those people; it's exactly why she's here with him despite the doubts from the others.

He knows better than to say that. Thankfully.

Still, maybe she can figure it out anyway. There's something to the snarl which wrenches at her lips which almost seems to indicate as much. Something to how she makes another vicious assault at him, as though she can rend the flesh from his arms with just a few good swipes. With how he's taking effort to evade instead of make contact, it's no good. That only seems to make her angrier.

"And why would you drag me out here for you protection?!" she snarls. It speaks to her training that she can keep talking throughout this sort of thing. "I will slaughter you whole - best to do it now when it's of my own free will!"

...Oh. Okay, this is the clear and obvious matter, isn't it? For the first time, Sephiroth moves forward to meet her, meets her own outstretched arm with his own in order to tangle them together, wrench it a little bit so that there is at least a couple of seconds for her to react. It is in those sparse seconds that he uses his other hand to grab at her head. Gently. He swears gently.

Just enough so that his palm can cradle the shaved portion of her head, now bereft of the brilliant red hair that makes her so easy to spote at any given moment.

"You have freedom now," he tells her, and he can feel the way she comes to an abrupt stop in his grip almost more than seeing her eyes narrow. "We did it before we left Midgar. There was a chip inside your head that would set off the electricity whenever the Overseer activated it, wasn't there? However, after our fight, I had someone do some surgery in order to remove it." And until he's at least a little more certain of just what Rosso will do, well, he thinks he'll stay quiet on just who did the surgery and why she had a good idea of where the chip would be. Rosso... can be unpredictable. Especially in response to things she's never experienced before.

Like someone actually doing something that is good.

This close, and it's easier than ever to see every little shift in her expression as she takes this information in. The flick of her pupils as she follows the line of his arm, taking in how his palm fits against her head. How  her eyebrows pull in towards one another, so slight that maybe another person would miss it. At the very least, her lips lower back down over her teeth, so it's not so fierce an expression by bounds.

It's a beat of silence which lasts only for a second. With Rosso, even a second can mean a great deal. And then, of course, she tries to slam her knee into his thigh, and the moment is over.

Sephiroth lets her. This close, he would have to do something perhaps a bit drastic or awkward to avoid it anyway, and he doesn't want to do that sort of thing to her right now. Not when she's not going for more lethal tactics any longer. Letting her work off even that little bit of energy is... for the best. He thinks that's likely true. Even if he doesn't have the sort of social skills which could make him more certain, Sephiroth wants to at least believe that he knows Rosso well enough to make up for it.

Of course, knowing Rosso means he also knows that she's never cared for an easy win handed over to her, and that brilliant red glare of hers only gets all the sharper for a second before she pulls herself sharply out of his grasp. "Is that so?" she asks, even as her hand reaches up to trace those sharp claws along the exposed skin of her head. They've only been traveling for some hours; that's hardly enough time even for projects such as themselves to recover from serious surgery. And Sephiroth is fairly certain that they've never done any tests on how fast hair grows back, since that's something else entirely from injury. That means along with only the faint fuzz of hair left, where there is anything at all, so too is there a massive scar all along her scalp from where the incision had to be made. Under Sephiroth's concerned gaze, Rosso drags metal against the puckered ridge which lays there. Cure materia can only do so much; it's still red and swollen in some capacity.

"I didn't want to leave you behind," he tells her. "Not again." Not with a chance for him to grasp everyone he's ever cared about, all at once. Not when he's finally had a chance like that within reach.

Rosso taps her claw a couple of times against her scar, light as anything, before she scoffs and turns away from him to look over the landscape. With the pace that most of them have been able to set - at least, him, Angeal, and Genesis - they've made some rather good time away from Midgar. Sephiroth can only hope that it will prove to be enough time in the end.

Of course, even with that in consideration... The landscape still is, in a lot of ways, exactly as the two of them have seen on the rare occasions that they've been able to have missions outside of the city limits. Barren land still stretches out for many miles, and Midgar can be seen off in the distance still - all shining metal and smog hovering around it as thick as some of the coats he's seen in the winter time when ferried around for one reason or another. Mountains are on both their sides - the most obvious place for them to escape and quickest most importantly, so it doesn't really matter what is obvious for the time being. Their traveling party is too large and awkward in many ways to make things quick.

Rosso takes it all in, absorbs it, and then twists around sharply to look him straight in the eyes. "So, you want me to kill them, then?" she asks, although it only sounds half as though she is actually speaking to Sephiroth. The other half? It's hard for him to be sure, exactly.

Still, that is enough for Sephiroth to finally feel a little more confident in the position of things right now to glance back towards the rest of the group who is waiting not that far away from them. He isn't particularly surprised to find that the original group - the Hewleys - seem to have taken everything in stride roughly. Granted, that doesn't mean too much. Genesis still has his lips curled in distaste at his fellow redhead's existence, for example. But the most that is on Gillian's face is the faintest of wrinkles on her brow, and Angeal is just waiting with his arms crossed.

It's the other two who are far more concerned, which strangely only makes Sephiroth concerned for them. Lazard's entire expression is pinched in on itself, held back by one of Gillian's hands along his arm, and there's a tension there which Sephiroth has rarely seen. Besides him, Aerith has both of her hands up against her mouth, eyes wide, and yet somehow she seems as though she will leap forward even more than Lazard.

Angeal is the one who speaks up, fortunately. "Actually, we are trying to get as far away from the city as possibly," he says matter of factly, a certain kind of steel to his tone that almost reminds Sephiroth of other military officers. Probably if he'd ever joined any of ShinRa's departments, he would have done well there, if this is a sign of what he's capable of on his own. "So I think we'll all pass on picking another fight. That wasn't really something we wanted to do anyway. So, going to come along with us, or did you have something else in mind?"

That last question... makes Sephiroth pause. It's the sort of question that hadn't really occurred to him at all. And the realization of that - it's enough to make his stomach twist strangely.

It makes Rosso pause too, although he can already tell that it's in a wholly different way than him. Her brows pull together for a moment, lips pursed, before she shrugs in that same sharp way he's grown so familiar with. "There's still a lot to understand, I suppose," she drawls, as though the rage of just a moment before never existed. Sephiroth knows better. He imagines that, just like with her actions towards the Overseer and anything else to do with ShinRa, that she's simply nursing that bitter and vicious emotion deep within her chest. "We are to keep walking then, hm?"

And they are. Apparently there's a trick to moving fast out here, but, well, Genesis hasn't had a chance to show it off apparently. Not before this. So after looking over the pair of them for just a second, Angeal turns around and begins to lead the way again with that long certain stride of his. Sephiroth wishes he could understand how he carries it so easily in a situation like this.

Angeal first. Then Gillian, after she pats Lazard's arm with something that might be reassurance. That she's still able to keep up walking when Genesis has had to pick up Lazard more than once to make up for his questionable endurance is impressive. Genesis, speaking of, lingers for just a moment before huffing and going after the rest of his family. So with all of that said, it's hardly much of a surprise to him that it's Lazard and Aerith who are the last to go with the group. Well, last besides Sephiroth and Rosso, anyway.

Always aware of the emotions between people far better than he could ever manage, Aerith finally lowers her handss with a huff and a little scowl on her face. He's half expecting a question or accusation of some sort, but then she's whirling away to hurry after Genesis. The two of them lean close together, lips moving, but just a little bit too quiet for him to really overhear. Not as the distance between them widens.

So there's Lazard. Lazard who finally seems to regain some color in his face as he sighs, and adjusts his glasses. "Well," he says finally, and tilts his head towards the others' backs. "Shall we continue on our way then, Sephiroth? There's no point lingering when you're a wanted man now, after all. And Miss Rosso, I hope we can help catch you up to speed."

There's no hesitation from either of them, although Rosso does scoff. "What is there for me to know?" she says carelessly, over the sound of faint rumbling far overhead. Perhaps they should all be grateful that there's no need to worry about the sun beating down on them. It's going to be a long walk, and may be even longer with how worked up they all are. "You need me, and that is that. What else to needlessly fuss over?"

Sephiroth frowns a little bit at that statement. Still, he doesn't say anything. Lazard gives him just a moment to do just that - he can tell in that particular little sideglance he makes - before speaking up for him instead. "I think perhaps there's some misunderstanding happening here," he tells her as the three of them take up the rear of the travel group. It doesn't escape Sephiroth's notice that Aerith keeps glancing back at them. "You weren't taken necessarily because your particular skills or knowledge is needed, Miss Rosso. It is exactly as Sephiroth said - he didn't want to leave you behind."

Somehow, it really does sound embarrassing when Lazard says it so.... plainly. Then again, embarrassment is something that Rosso has never particularly cared about on her end. All she does is frown, head cocked to the side. "Then what do you expect me to do?"

It's... a good question. Sephiroth isn't entirely sure he knows for himself the answer to that question, let alone for any other person. What can he tell her? That they have an entire world in which they can figure out anything? That doesn't help. At least, it doesn't help him. He can't imagine how it would help her, either.

In that, they are united.

Before he can struggle through an answer, or Lazard can provide any filler, Aerith finally turns around with her dress twirling about her knees. "You know, you keep asking all these questions, but isn't there something you should do, first?" she presses. Bold, as always, even with what Rosso has demonstrated in her ability.

This isn't the first time that a civilian has behaved similarly to Rosso. Most of the time, however, they don't know just what she's capable of. This flavor of the experience has Rosso tilting her head to the other side, observing Aerith not too unlike the way she used to roam through the simulation chamber at the beginning of their partnership together before she adjusted. "Ah," she finally says, her clawtips clacking together thoughtfully, finger to thumb. "I suppose I should still shed some of your blood, Sephiroth, for embarrassing me in such a manner."

...Well, it's not quite what he was expecting, but also, Sephiroth supposes this makes sense too. Even if he may have done this to help her, even if this might be something which does her all the more good rather than staying trapped under the yolk of ShinRa... It's still a blow to her pride. He still lied to her. When viewed through that lens, he supposes he can see the internal logic of it.

Apparently it's only him who can see that logic, however. At least, that's what it must be with how Aerith immediately jolts up and scowls at Rosso. She's never been a particularly violent person, and Sephiroth can tell that it's not been her particularly favorite thing to do for all that it's a necessity, yet her hands ball into fists there at her side. "That's your first idea!?" she says, a lot of outrage for such a petite person. "I wasn't there for some of this-" She wasn't there for a lot of things to do with Rosso, actually, but Sephiroth doesn't correct her. "-but I know that it took a lot of work to help get that chip or whatever it was out of your head, and he's been carrying you this entire time too! He didn't have to do that. After all, weren't you the one who took shots there at the underside of Midgar?" At Sephiroth's raised brows, Aerith tosses in a hasty explanation. "I heard gossip about it flooding through the districts while I was getting ready."

Trust people to talk, he supposes... It never would have occurred to him to consider that. Then again, it was never his department to particularly care about.

It's never been Rosso's department to care about either, and all she does is raise her chin imperiously. "And it worked, did it not?" she says. No regret, of course. Sephiroth never expected any. He's not sure if Aerith expected any either, yet she still looks as though she might burn with a sort of righteous fury. "I needed to get his attention, and flush out the rats. Those security forces trooping around in their little helmets and carting about their useless guns were taking far too long..."

"You could have hurt a lot of people!"

"And?" Rosso impatiently flicks some of her hair back over her shoulder. "I am a weapon. If something is hurt, then I've fulfilled my entire purpose."

Sephiroth accepts the logic, understands it. He, too, often had thoughts about that sort of thing in the past. Those thoughts are why he and Rosso could bond so easily, why he understands her on some level. Indeed, she's a weapon. He is a weapon too. Even now, with him escaping, and taking her with him...

It's all simply him trying to understand how to not be what he feels he was made for.

But others don't understand this attempt at understanding. They don't understand what it means to be a weapon, to be raised as though a blade were as natural to them as a limb. He can see it in the way Lazard's lips still purse tightly upon hearing it, and the way this is enough to make even Aerith's energy stutter to a halt, uncertain how to even be directed in the face of an argument like this. "You're not a weapon, Aerith finally manages, and Sephiroth feels some fondness for the words.

It is true, after all. They aren't weapons like blades, or guns, or anything else in the world. Still... It's a very easy thing to say. He could say it too, although he knows it wouldn't sound persuasive coming from his lips.

Him and Rosso have lived lives different enough to doubt the weight of them, even if he wishes he could do otherwise. Even if he wishes he could simply take a step and become something different, sometimes, rather than the constant worry that his being down to the core has already been warped before he could ever have a chance to change it.

At least he keeps it quiet in himself for right now. He knows what people like Lazard think. Rosso, in contrast, only laughs - bright and sharp and disbelieving. "Then why was I ever born?" she asks.

And Sephiroth knows. Just like she knows.

As much as he wanted to know the truth behind his mother, to find her, to get answers to so many of the things in his life... He has to admit that with one half of his biological makeup belonging to one person in particular, he was likely always born for this sort of thing. And Rosso... is probably in a similar boat. But they'll probably never know the answer to that.

They just know where they've been raised. They just know what all their training, from before they could even speak proper words, was for.

Of course, he's learned through interactions with others that it isn't pleasant to confront this sort of thing. At least, not for those outside of the role of a 'weapon'. Aerith's fists seem to tremble once more, all passion in a bleeding heart, before she leans further into Rosso's space. "You don't have to stay like that!" she tells her - or perhaps she's making a demand? It's hard for Sephiroth to tell exactly. "Everything is your choice now, so you don't have to kill people!"

No one tends to argue with Rosso like this. Or, if they do in the rare occasions that it's happened while Sephiroth has been partnered with her, he's dragged her away from the situation before it could dissolve into bloodshed, which often seemed likely. He can tell from the arch of her brows that she's trying to decide how she should take this. "And just what do you think a weapon is supposed to do?" she demands of her.

Aerith is still only a teenage girl. Sephiroth wouldn't say that she hasn't gone through a lot of things in her life, because he knows opposite, but... It's not the kind of life, he's fairly certain, that would lead to her having to answer questions like this. The sort of question that has such a weight on a life, and which isn't an experience one would have down in the slums. So when she actually purses her lips, stops arguing for just a moment and pulls back with one of those fists pressed directly over her heart... Well. He's not surprised. Even as much as he'd like to hear her answer. Find a lifeline for himself that's more reliable than the frantic emotions of what his heart has been doing.

And she closes her eyes. Closes them for just a moment, before parting her lips...

Rosso jolts back. Sephiroth doesn't understand immediately for a moment, not until he sees something streak down past his own face, and then Aerith is jolting too. The rain comes down lightly at first, a few warning sprinkles, and it's as though the entire sky has turned green for both of the women.

Argument completely forgotten, they crane their heads back together, facing the scattering rain head-on as it meet their brows, slides off the bridges of their noses. Begins to weigh down, bit by bit, on their hair, until it becomes heavier and more wet with every passing second. Especially so, when the light pressure only becomes all the more heavier, a proper rain falling upon all of them as they stand there in the dirt and sloping hills.

It's Rosso who hits the ground first. If she's even conscious of what she's doing is hard to say, with the way that her gaze is so fixated up on the rolling grey clouds high over their heads, only that she lowers herself slowly down there, on her knees but sprawled ungainly, awkwardly. A secondary concern, compared to the beginnings of a storm that has come to greet their escape.

Aerith follows right after, but she's not copying Rosso. That much is obvious just from a glance at her, eyes wide and the brilliant green of them dulled due to the reflection of the clouds. The mud clings to her dress as she knees a little more put-together, hands curled up in the thin fabric that was made for the uncomfortable heat beneath midgar and now the chill of nature as it truly is. She looks up into the clouds as though she might be able to find some sort of answer there. As though she's looking into the precipice of a cliff.

...And Sephiroth looks up, too. He's experienced rain before. He knows it. And yet it's not rained in a very long time, especially not near Midgar- as though the city's uncomfortable heat chews through any sort of moisture which could bring rain and snow. It's happened, sometimes. How long ago was it?

How long since the rain has last touched his skin? How long until since he could remember what it felt like to be out in the city, waiting patiently for some thing or another, and being startled at the fall of it? Until he wanted to just stand out there forever, just like he wanted to stare up at the neverending stretch of blue or the brilliance of the moon?

When Sephiroth sits down, it's with his knees drawn up to his chest, and he remembers what it's like to look at the sky for the first time all over again.

It probably only lasts for a few minutes, really. Maybe not even a few. Yet it feels as though it stretches out long and strange, time which isn't time. And then there are the sounds of murmurs behind him, footsteps, heavier boots, and he can see just a little bit of Lazard as the other man leans over him. "Sephiroth..."

A rustle of feathers, a low sigh, and then there's white overhead. Enormous, brilliant white, almost like the moon that shone so determinedly even if Midgar's lights could drown out the stars. Angeal's larger wing, stretched out over all of them. When Sephiroth looks over, he can see the man settled a little nearer to Aerith so that his wing can cover all three of them. This means nothing for him, of course, rain weighing down the little ponytail he'd used to pull back his hair, brow slick with the water, but he seems to mind just about as much as any of them - not at all. "Alright," he says, matter of fact as always. "How about we all go and seek some shelter, first off, and then we can clear up some misconceptions about weapons."

It's a good thing that all their traveling has gotten them nearer to the mountains than not. With the strength behind him, Angeal, and Genesis, it's child's play for them to pick up the less combat-ready of their group and vault over to where stretches of trees actually dot the bases of mountains, and which give away to other things as well. Things such as shallow caves - no doubt the dens of some animal or another.

None of them worry about if it comes home or not. Any animal that is out here will have more to fear from them than vice-versa.

"Unfortunate that we weren't able to make it to the area where Genesis stores all our things," Angeal says casually as they begin to set things down and find what space for themselves they possibly can in what is frankly not a lot of space. "We'd probably have more clothes than we would need in that case."

"And you'd be grateful for them all," Genesis insists, somehow finding a piece of rock jutting out that is just enough for him to dramatically hang his coat from.  Sephiroth hadn't even realized it was there.

Still a little bit in a daze from the... moment that they all had, Sephiroth doesn't quite understand why they're all required to strip at first, before remembering that most normal people - mainly Lazard, Aerith, and possibly even Gillian - need to get out of cold wet clothes if they want to stay healthy. And, well, for the rest of them, he supposes it would just be a matter of comfort. Even if Gillian has to patiently encourage Rosso to come behind Angeal's outstretched wings to do a quick change out of sight.

It probably doesn't really matter as much for someone like her, but they should likely get her into the habit, he supposes.

Undressing. Dressing in some of Angeal's large enough shirts, which look positively ridiculous on the rest of the group. And then Genesis starts a fire for Angeal to start working out some basic dinner for the night. Fortunately, it's something that manages to get Rosso's attention, and that likely means he won't have to worry about her picking a fight immediately anytime soon. Probably. That is the hope, anyway.

Of course, cooking often seems to be something Genesis dumps on Angeal's lap. The redhead instead takes up watch over by the cave entrance, arms crossed and in his own well-fitting clothing. Trying to ignore how odd it feels to be in just a rather ill-fitting shirt and boots, Sephiroth settles across from him.

Truthfully, what  he wants to say feels as though it should be first said to Gillian, or Angeal, with how they often seem to be the ones taking over for the most practical of things, but... Genesis deserves this as well, he thinks. "I apologize," he says, when he's glanced over to. "I was the one who wanted to take Rosso with us, and I didn't keep her and Aerith on track when they started arguing."

Or, well. He supposes it was a sort of arguing. Likely, it could have become an argument, or worse, in short order. Both women have far more passion than Sephiroth knows what to do with.

He's going to have to get used to that... if only because Genesis is also a person with a lot of passion, clearly, and just a lot in general. It sort of burns out of him passively, even know, when all he does is laugh quietly in mirror to Sephiroth's own careful volume. "Frankly, after how Angeal described the fight between you two, I thought it would take much longer for that nuisance to even just get walking," he says, hand flicking through the air as thought swatting away a mote of dust. "I was offering to just blast her into submission, but Angeal talked me out of it, so you should thank him before anything else."

"...I feel obligated to tell you that a blast would have the exact opposite effect on her."

"Not if it's strong enough," Genesis insists. In that moment, Sephiroth remembers that this is the kind of person who thought that repeatedly summoning an immensely powerful dragon to slam into the ShinRa building was a very subtle and sensible idea. "At any rate..." Arms folded across his chest, Genesis surveys Sephiroth over the curve of his fingers along his lips. "You weren't taking a very proactive approach in that little discussion of theirs. Not used to playing the mediator, hm?"

A mediator, is that it? Sephiroth supposes that's not the wrong way to look at it. "Not usually. People usually don't do that around me." Or, at least, anytime he can remember things like that, it was a very long time ago. When things were very different in his life. In some ways, a parallel difference to what he's living right now. "Although... I also wasn't sure what I could say."

"And why would that be?"

How to phrase this in a way that wouldn't get more denials, more worry? Sephiroth isn't wholly sure. He's never been sure. All he's wanted to do is believe in the things they would tell him, while never being able to wholly commit. This is the most he's ever committed to anything in his life, and, only after the fact, he's starting to worry that he only did it because it's similar enough to him in a way that things never were before. Because it felt the most right that it possibly could in a way that he can only assume is what other people have meant when they talked about doing things for family, even if family isn't exactly what he is with Angeal, or Genesis, or Gillian.

But it must be close enough, he thinks.

He hesitates in giving an answer just long enough for Genesis to hum past his fingers, the first tapping at his lips. "You know, I couldn't help but overhear some of the argument," he says, which is impressive considering how far away that half of the group was from Aerith and Rosso. They weren't even particularly loud. "Especially that bit about being a weapon. That ridiculous little brat you've grown fond of made it quite clear just how she views things... Are you of the same mind as her, then?"

Well. Now he has to be honest, if he's being asked upfront like this. "She... isn't wholly incorrect," he says, very carefully and slowly. "Her and I, while we've never met before your attack on the ShinRa building, have lived very similar lives that were built around specific purposes. Deepground has many mysteries to it that I am still unfamiliar with as of yet, of course, but... I can recognize that much. I suppose to call us weapons is an accurate way of describing that particular purpose."

Is that good enough? Is that a happy medium? Sephiroth can't be sure if there is a 'happy' medium. Or any sort of medium. Still, it seems to be enough for Genesis, because he doesn't sigh, or look sad, or anything else. All he does is hum again, and his gaze is hard to read where it rests on him.

"They truly did do a number on you in that place, didn't they?" he says, and that is also true. Sephiroth is almost startled by the truth of it, even, almost as much as he's startled by how understated it is coming out of Genesis's mouth. "Well. I suppose it would be remiss of me to say that I am wholly unfamiliar with it." Before Sephiroth can press further on this, because he wants to press further on it, Genesis moves his hand away from his mouth to hold up one finger. "Not to the same degree, of course, yet I know well what it is to be raised by people who have a clear plan for you in mind, and to not question it." Sighing, he rolls his head to stare out to the pouring rain which falls just inches away from them. Close enough that its impact on the earth still manages to reach their boots. "I suppose it is up to my dear Angeal and I to show you the rest of the world, isn't it?"

Sephiroth tilts his head to the side. "...You seem almost rather pleased at the idea," he points out.

Genesis grins at him, shameless as anyone possibly could be, and a strange feeling stirs in Sephiroth's chest. Almost as if he should smile back, and maybe even wants to. "Oh, you only need wait," he purrs, with that extraordinary and rather flashy confidence of his. "I am positive that, come morning, our dearest Angeal will partner with me and we will enlighten you poor lost lambs absolutely perfectly."





"I can't trust you to do anything," Genesis grumbles, come morning, expression flat and unhappy in every bit from the turn of his mouth to the pinch between his brows.

Not that Sephiroth can quite see what the issue is at this point in time. Frankly, from his perspective, everything has gone as well as he can ever hope that it could have gone from the night to this point in the morning. Rosso didn't exactly make any friends, but she also didn't make any enemies of their new traveling group. That's the most he can ask for. That's the most he can ask for of himself for that matter, which he does try to ignore a good bit in favor of the present.

Then again, that may have less to do with Rosso, and more with the boon of the weather having been as it was the night prior. Rain, for whatever reason, has caught... most of their attention. Or, at least, it caught Rosso and Aerith's attention, even when it became so dark that it was impossible to make out any details in the world outside of the little shelter they were all crammed into - Midgar's everburning lights blocked by trees and rocks and the distance they've traveled while the storm itself smothered the moonlight.

That never discouraged either of the two women. All they did was sit on opposite sides of the entrance, not caring if the rain splashed against their skin or clothes, feet nearly brushing against each other with the limited amount of room they had. Lazard had to patiently convince both of them away in order for them to sleep. Not to mention Sephiroth had to take up watch, just in case.

(Aerith, unsurprisingly, had proved to be easier in this than Rosso.)

But now it is the morning, and Angeal had made sure to wake up all of them properly. Sephiroth had glanced outside to find the storm had passed them at some point in the night, leaving behind only wet dirt, shiny leaves, and a peculiar smell that he can't quite place or describe. Logically, he knows it is the smell that rain brings, the scent of it sinking into the dirt and revitalizing the plants that have not yet been drained of their life by Midgar's neverending and unsatiable hunger. It's still strange to breathe in. To feel it settle on the back of his throat and down deep into his lungs.

Angeal, in contrast to the rest of them, seems right at home as he stands there with morning's light at his back and various gear already on his person. Things Sephiroth hadn't even realized they had, but were clearly packed away somewhere. Various knives and pouches on a belt, one of the backpacks that somehow already seems rather muddy...

So, he really doesn't know why Genesis is huffing. Especially since all Angeal did was ask Sephiroth, Rosso, and Aerith to come with him to figure out their breakfast for the morning.

Although he does have to say... "Are we certain that this is the best time for this?" he asks Angeal quietly as they begin their trek down the hill from their temporary shelter, his gaze still flicking all about for any sign of.... anything, he supposes. "ShinRa will surely have gotten a move on by this point to locate Rosso and myself." At the very least himself, maybe, if they believe that Rosso with the chip in her skull could never have rebelled against them and remain unaware of what's been removed... But he's not so oblivious to believe that they won't want their most precious weapon-grade asset back under control. That they were even able to have a calm night is something almost incredible to him.

Yet Angeal just shrugs, perfectly at ease still. "We're all going to have to eat sooner than later," he says, the most plain thing in the world, and Sephiroth supposes he's not wrong. Even if all of them, they who were born experiments, were to go without food, they'd still have to consider people like Lazard and Aerith. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that they went right past us, if they ever got that close at all."

What he means by that is something he makes clear after he takes them all up along the mountainside, or at least decently well along its cliffs. Angeal points off into the distance and Sephiroth, carrying Aerith along his back, follows the length of his finger.

While they've made it off into the mountains, where trees and plantlife in general seem to be fairing a little bit better than the open plains, that isn't too much in the grand scheme of things. Sephiroth has a feeling that even if he didn't possess the kind of eyes that he does, he'd be able to spot just what Angeal means.

There, off in the dark mud that is still taking its time drying underneath the morning sun, there are trails which are even darker, and which disrupt the smooth plains of dirt that form so much of the area around Midgar. Trails which cut through the green of plains, an ugly marring that mimics the same ugliness all around Midgar. There are even more of them all around the city, before they clearly go off to the west... at least, as far as Sephiroth can tell.

"They were searching for us through the storm," Angeal explains, looking to Aerith with a smile. "But the rain washed away our footsteps into slop, so they didn't know where to find us. Us taking a little longer to stay hidden in the trees and then go out when the dirt is a bit dryer is probably in our best interest."

When did they notice that, he wonders? And was it Angeal who noticed, or Genesis when he came to relieve Sephiroth of his watch position in the night?

It doesn't matter, he supposes. Either way, this tactic has worked out well enough for now, and he'll have to accept that. For now, he just listens to Aerith's little delighted laugh and Rosso's low dark chuckle. Is grateful for the sound of them. The confirmation of their safety. Not that Rosso needs to be watched over, but there is something in the knowledge that somehow soothes him after all the tension that followed them through Midgar's slums.

With the most pressing matter taken care of, he almost forgets Genesis's words from last night as Angeal takes them down along the slopes. At least, until the man suddenly says, "So, Rosso, you said you're a weapon, huh?"

He doesn't mention Sephiroth at all, and yet, somehow, he can't help but suspect the words are directed to him as much as Rosso. If Rosso has picked up on this as well is a mystery to him, because her gaze is as almost apathetic compared to the wide eyed fascination she'd gifted the trees with. "Hoping to argue with me just as much as the little girl, hm?"

Aerith frowns a bit, almost something severe like a scowl but with the reluctance of a pout. She is young, after all. Sephiroth supposes she understands that more than anyone, just like she'd understood her argument from before wasn't going to go anywhere.

But that's nowhere on Angeal's priority list, it seems, because all he does is shrug. "I wouldn't call it arguing," he says, crouching down to inspect tracks not their own down in the mud. "Anyway, see this? This is the hoofprint of an Arba - I would hazard a guess that they're pretty young. Probably hoping to take advantage of some plants that flower rapidly in the aftermath of a shower. Shouldn't be too far." Dusting his hands off, he keeps moving. "What's the definition of a weapon, anyway?"

Rosso hesitates for just a moment. Sephiroth hesitates for a second longer before he determinedly lengthens his stride again to make sure that Angeal doesn't get too far away.

While he wasn't the one who was asked the question - directly - he still can't help thinking of the dictionary definitions of the very word. A thing designed or used for inflicting bodily harm or physical damage. The first definition in any dictionary he's ever looked at. The one that everyone thinks of if they were asked on any street corner in Midgar, likely.

A sword fits that definition as neatly as a more complicated creation such as Rosso's gunblade, still trapped somewhere in Midgar whether stuck atop the train or lost amongst all the pipes which allow the city to function.

A sword fits that definition as neatly as the more complicated creation of a person, at least if that person was born for a specific experiment.

"Something which spills blood," Rosso announces after a moment, which isn't too different from Sephiroth's own internal musings. Cocking her head to the side, she curls still gauntleted fingers beneath her chin. "Hm... I suppose that removes blunt weaponry or one's own fists, doesn't it? Something to inflict pain. Something to kill." Rosso likely hasn't memorized the entirety of a dictionary, during a period of childhood where there was little else she was allowed to read, but in the definition of weapon, Sephiroth supposes it doesn't matter. They both know a weapon's purpose. They both know their purpose.

Angeal nods, clearly not having expected any other answer. "I guess that sounds about right," he says, which is technically an agreement and yet which seems... Dismissive? No, that doesn't feel quite right. Yet it's clear that he's not putting any particular stock into what Sephiroth knows to be the correct definition. "Although doesn't that mean everything is a weapon, in the end?"

...Well. This is a bit of a twist. Sephiroth blinks, and Rosso's hand lowers. "Huh?" Aerith says, much more vocal in her expression.

There's no immediate answer. Angeal is busy doing a small jump, investigating the state of some tree branches and then nodding to himself. Sephiroth can see how some leaves have been torn away, and a couple branches awkwardly broken. Signs of their prey, long-necked and herbivorous. "I mean, think about it. You hit anyone with something hard enough, and they're definitely going to be feeling that," he says casually, still using a normal tone of voice for now. No whispers or such. Their targets are some ways off yet. "Might even bleed, depending on what you hit them with, or where. Go for the face and that's sometimes a guaranteed nosebleed honestly."

"Oooooooh."

"Rosso, that's not meant to be inspirational," Angeal says dryly. "But if everything can be a weapon by technicality, what does that actually mean?"

It... feels like a philosophical question, really.  In other words, the sort of questions that Hojo always seemed to despise within the laboratories and that Sephiroth mainly knew from reading books before he was able to go out into the world to hear the word from other people. Rarely, because the people he was most around with were military, but, still. He did hear it sometimes.

Before he can question anything himself, ask for specifics, ask just what Angeal is aiming for, the other man perks up. "Ah - there we go. Alright, rule of thumb: you want a clean break or stab, whichever you go for. Don't ruin too much of the meat if we can help it. We only need one - and it can't be a mother or child."

There are actually a few more rules to that - Angeal is apparently quite conscientious of what sort of animals he deems acceptable to hunt - but it's nothing too difficult. Frankly easier than some of the missions ShinRa would demand of its military forces at times. The herd they find is rather small, as must often be the case if they're going near the plantlife which is around Midgar's dead zone, and one of its number fits their requirements just fine.

Over and done with in no time flat. Simple and neat. In the dust left behind by the escaping healthy animals, there's only them, and a massive animal dead at their collective feet.

It might have been overkill, all of them there together. Genesis didn't even bother to get involved; he simply leaned back to watch with a rather bored look to watch as Rosso flung herself through the air at the chance to get out some of her aggressive energy. Sephiroth's job was mainly pulling her back off the corpse.

"I'll teach you some trap tricks later, if you want," Angeal had told Aerith while Sephiroth had tucked Rosso underneath one arm.

Only when they've all gathered around the animal in question do things change. It's Aerith who steps forward besides Angeal, staring down at the immense creature with something hard to read in her stare. "It's the first time that I've ever seen an animal be killed like this before," she says. "I know it had to happen, so that we could get the food delivered to Midgar, and that's how life works. Everything has to return to the lifestream at some point or another. We at to keep on living, which means a creature has to die. But it's strange, seeing it in front of me, and it's not a monster to be killed for self-defense."

Sephiroth isn't sure what to say to that. If he should say anything. If he can say anything, having grown up in the labs where he got to watch, day after day, monsters and humans alike falling apart to slaughter or the sort of rabid pain which only comes with a failed experiment. Having been sent out to the battlefield as a teenager not too long ago, comparatively speaking.

Even so, in his uncertainty, he settles besides her. Aerith, without asking or even looking up to him, takes his hand in hers and squeezes down a bit.

While he may not be sure of what he can do or say, there is a relief that Angeal seems much more confident when it comes to matters regarding people. He looks back to her and nods, not too surprised. "That sounds about right for a city like Midgar. If you want, Genesis can help get you back to our camp for a minute, and you won't have to look at the rest of what we'll do. Ultimately, it's in your hands."

Aerith thinks for a moment before she nods. "I'll stay. Just because I'll be looking away doesn't mean it still won't be happening, and who knows?" She manages one of those bright little smiles of hers, something almost teasing in the curve of it. "Maybe one day you big strong guys won't be able to lift a knife, so it'll be up to me to feed you, huh?"

"Maybe." Angeal grins right back at her. "Although you might still need somebody's help for doing what I'm about to do."

And with that, mindful of its hooves, he hauls one of its massive legs up over his shoulders.

Angeal can't completely carry the Arba with himself - although not for lack of sheer brute power. Rather, there's still the concern that dragging it too much against the ground will ruin the body, the meat, open up new wounds and get dirt inside the meat. So the rest of them help to varying degrees in holding up other parts of the body, its long neck, and it then make a rather strange sort of caterpillar all the way back to the cave.

"Do we need all of that?" Lazard asks incredulously when he sees them return, Angeal leading the effort to carefully lay the creature against the slope and rocks.

Gillian makes a show of counting each of them by the head, finger smooth and practiced as it bounces through the air. "So let's see, there was myself, and then Angeal and Genesis, both healthy growing young men. I'm sure you can see how tall they are already. That's three, now - oh, and Sephiroth should be around their age as well, I believe." Sephiroth double takes at Angeal. For some reason, he'd thought him older. "Rosso and Aerith... They seem to be rather young as well, with Rosso certainly being born after Sephiroth and the other. I can only imagine how much they'll both need to eat as well. And you, Director-"

"Alright, I apologize for asking."

He doesn't have much more attention in him to spare in order to overhear the rest of their conversation. Instead, Angeal is gesturing for the rest of them to come join him over by the neck. Sephiroth expects him to launch right into an explanation of what he's doing, the way to drain blood from a creature, what pieces of meat to prioritize depending on what you need or how many people are in your traveling party. These feel like the sort of things Angeal would know, if he's had to live off the grid away from ShinRa's eyes.

Instead, he hefts up his knife thoughtfully and looks up to him and Rosso, asking, "So, is this still a weapon?"

Sephiroth has decided he has absolutely no idea just what is happening, and almost wonders if choosing to run away was in fact the worst idea. He knows better in his heart, of course. All he needs to do is look to the side just a little, see the patch of red fuzz along part of Rosso's scalp and the scar there which has already healed from most of its redness.

...Still, this doesn't help him with the current question at hand, and he realizes he's being dragged into this lesson as well.

"Obviously," Rosso scoffs.

"I can't see why it wouldn't be," Sephiroth offers much more cautiously, wary of whatever logic it is that Angeal plans to pull out. Frankly speaking, he's having a hard time following it, let alone know its origins from within the man's head.

Angeal simply hefts the knife thoughtfully in his hand. "But I'm not using it to cause harm to anything," he points out before reaching forward. "Ah, by the way, we'll start here so that we can start draining the blood a little bit... Watch how the knife moves. Which, by the way, is what I'm using for. It can't cause harm, because this animal is already long dead. It isn't able to feel what I'm doing. I guess technically I'm spilling blood... but does that still count when the animal is dead? I mean, technically, I could break a blood bag open, but it's not causing harm either just by doing that."

It's... almost a strange sort of logic, and yet Sephiroth can't deny there is logic. Indeed, if a weapon is meant to inflict pain, it is not technically fulfilling such a purpose when it does anything else... even if it fits such a slot perfectly.

But... "Then what are you trying to say?" Rosso snaps.

"I'm saying watch how I use this knife just as much as listen to my explanation on how to prepare game."

Angeal is, Sephiroth must say, quite a good teacher in some ways. He has clear and concise directions, avoiding any specific terminology until he's had cause to reference it directly. He makes sure everyone gets a chance to see just how he's moving his knife, what locations he presses the blade into and in what way. Practical demonstrations are also put into place, which he supposes shouldn't be surprising. The animal is so large that all of them can have a go in parts of it. And they watch how he uses his knife. How he uses multiple knives. 

Truly, its purpose never ended at the same time as a life. Carefully, it separates the hide from the flesh. It divides up chunks of meat to be patiently portioned out and set aside for either immediate roasting or prepared back in the cave where Gillian works with steady hands. It helps drain the blood by making a careful incision.

It transforms a creature that was once living into a variety of things that will help them all for some time to come.

"The only people who would say that there are only weapons in this world are brutes of the highest order," Genesis drawls, after returning from a quick scout around the area - precautions made to ensure that ShinRa really isn't coming around to their location. "Have you ever seen fireworks, dear Sephiroth?" He purposefully ignores Rosso.

She answers anyway. "Ha, not at all."

"Once," Sephiroth says. "It was when I was returning from a mission. There was a celebratory parade happening, and they set off fireworks as part of the event." He remembers the way his body had automatically tensed up in the car back to his apartment. How Lazard had gently twined their hands together, and explained it all to him. Back then, the windows had been tinted so that his presence in the vehicle wasn't known, but he'd been allowed to roll them down once. To see the splashes of color obscuring the moon, making the sky as bright as the city beneath it.

"Wutai came up with the concept first, you know." He hadn't, but he can tell a rhetorical question when he hears one. "A way to make the most incredible display of art, in a manner that no one had ever seen before. Truly, I almost wish that I could have been born in such a time and place, for how their hearts must have burst alongside the sky when those first fireworks were revealed for all." He smiles, sly and sidelong, to Sephiroth. "Of course, it did not take a genius to make gunpowder out of that, and so was the fate of humanity forever changed."

He knows this is technically the truth. While he might not be any sort of expert on fireworks and the like, he does understand the basic principles behind what must make them work. What gives them enough explosive force to be seen by people so low to the ground, in both the journey and the end result.

The exact same sort of thing which could cause great harm. The exact sort of thing which lead to the world developing a new sort of weapon rapidly, to try and keep up with materia.

Fireworks and gunpowder. A knife shedding the blood of a still living person, and yet able to prepare the body of an animal meant to feed them all.

He thinks... he's seeing the logic that Angeal means to show them as well.

And he hopes that Rosso, crouched down besides the creature and following Angeal's instructions as he points out the path her knife should go next, also sees this logic too... even if he is not wholly sure they will be able to live to the truth of it so soon. It still feels strange and disconnected, at least to him. Does she feel the same, with that absent sort of stare in her eyes as she separates a piece of flank meat?

With a good portion of the animal pulled apart - not completely, but a good portion of it - Angeal pushes himself up onto his feet, hands braced against his knees. "It's a shame that we don't really have a lot of time here, or else I could show you how you would tan a hide, make proper leather," Angeal muses. "But we really should probably get moving. We're hitting the afternoon now."

It's true, and actually kind of worrying... Will they be able to make good time to the nearest town past Midgar? Sephiroth knows they were lucky with the storm that came over them through the night, but surely ShinRa will send out some force or another to search in the other direction. Sooner than later, too.

Yet Angeal hardly seems worried at all, instead turning to the rest of them as relaxed as anything. "Anyway, I hope that gave you all some things to chew on. Aerith - want to do anything now that we're done here?"

With one hand tucked behind her back, Aerith presses one finger from her other hand along her cheek. "Mmmmm," she says, making an exaggerated show of thinking. Sephiroth can remember her doing the same thing when they were young children, trapped together in the labs. "Nope! I think I'm all clear on my end!" Sephiroth wonders how true that is, but Aerith doesn't let that sort of thing hang in the air for too long. Instead, she swings her hand down to join its partner behind here back, and leans forward. "So how are we going to carry all of this? It looks like you managed to pack it up pretty neatly, but all that food will just slow us down!"

"Well, we were actually thinking-"

Angeal never gets a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, Genesis strides forward with a wide flourish of a gesture, smirking confidently. "Rather than do all the heavy lifting ourselves, my dear, allow us to show you a handy little trick, so long as you are capable of dispatching the nuisances which hang about Midgar and its desolate plains."





As it turns out, he's talking about the Devil Rides which cause havoc freely in the more open plains.

As it turns out, when you defeat a Devil Ride to the point of death, you can perform a very interesting little trick with Thunder materia in which the electricity produced manages to jolt and shudder the monsters' engines, revving them up very neatly.

Devil Rides, as it turns out, can haul around a great deal of their luggage and food like this.

It is the most unbelievable thing that Sephiroth thinks he has ever done, clinging along to the spine of a Devil Ride as it kicks up dirt and mud from all around it, a good portion of their food bundled up and held securely on what could be called the creature's lap. Holding on just as securely is Aerith's hands onto his shoulders, whooping in unrestrained elation as they race through the plains - a group of them, all together, the dust so high behind them that it must surely obscure them from view in at least one direction.

Aerith suddenly sputters and spits behind him. "Oh - Sephiroth!" She's right back to laughing again. He's not sure if she'll ever actually stop. "Your hair is getting everywhere!"

Probably that's true. But also, he did spend a good bit of time with Genesis braiding it all back so that it wouldn't be flapping everywhere and potentially blind him. So he tells her the only bit of advice he possibly can. "You need to close your mouth more!"

Opposite effect. Somehow. She just laughs louder, and harder, and fine. That's her choice. He's decided that he won't take that away from her, even if it is absolutely baffling to him. Sephiroth huffs and just focuses on keeping up with where Genesis is leading the charge, all the way across the plains. Away from Midgar's line of sight.

Still, Genesis was right. This is a very easy way to make up for all of the time lost to a morning full of hunting, and a lesson of sorts. It feels like no time at all before they've made it around some of the smaller mountains, and it's no longer to see the way Midgar glints off the sunlight.

It's not a permanent solution, of course, because monsters can't survive that long before fading away into the lifestream once more... and perhaps more importantly, any town that saw a gang like them coming in a way like this would surely pull up all the defenses. Even Sephiroth can tell that this would make more enemies than friends... and give them more fame than they really need right now.

Still, he reflects as they remove their things and let the monsters bodies dissipate back into the shimmering green light which was responsible for so much of their state, it was a handy trick that he never would have thought of while working for ShinRa. He will have to make sure he keeps it in mind for the future.