Thread: ÑÐ½ÏÆ¨Îµ ÏÎ¹ÑÐ½ Ï Î¹ Ð¸ É¢ Æ¨ // [Cash. Kitteh. Serisu. Only.]

?? ?? ? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I knew ever since I was a child, I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. It was another day just like all those before it a mindless, endless collection of conscious motions that would lead from sunrise to sunset. The revered hero of Shinra rose with the sun, before most SOLDIERS had even cracked their eyes open in preparation for the day ahead. He had taken the time to dress, use an entire bottle of scented shampoo on the long white hair he took much pride in privately, and reflect on his years of training of the mind and body before he even considered stepping away from the barracks. He had no roommate, as per special request. Being who he was, he was permitted such frivolous luxuries but his privacy was immensely important to him. He had grown up in solitude and to have that snatched away from him would be a cruel and unusual punishment not to mention that being utterly alone apart for the training sessions in which he obliterated every other contender in the SOLDIER third class enhanced the mysterious image he had developed. People tended to give him wide berth, stare. They loved him, adored him. They were jealous, hated him. He carried a heavy mantle at the venerable age of sixteen, but he was the essence of SOLDIER and proud of what he represented. SOLDIER was his existence. He ate, breathed, and lived SOLDIER. He was tall, slender, with a beautiful face and long hair that fell straight down his back passed his buttocks. His lips were curved in a perpetual frown, his narrow eyes a striking blue with slited cat-like pupils ringed in green, his fair hair heavenly against the milky skin of his brow. He body rippled with musculature, attractively proportioned. On his person he donned the same SOLDIER uniform as everyone else, but it appeared to most as though he wore it differently than everyone else. He was the embodiment of perfection, a god descended into the presence of humans. No one knew what was going on his mind, what the world looked like through his eyes, what he was going to say or do. He was immensely powerful, and he delighted himself in making it known as often as humanly possible. It was in the morning schedule for the SOLDIERS to begin their day with a few drills before they were permitted to visit the chow hall and fill their stomachs. The instructors did not want them heaving all over the grass and then marching through it. It was a draining, tedious workout beginning first with warm-ups and then group running, followed by group training. Sephiroth was divided into a team consisting of himself and twelve odd others, all of whose names he did not bother to learn. He found a way to outrun all his peers, out bench-press them, outwit them. It was almost with an effortless grace that he performed what to most were grueling physical stunts, and with an air of arrogance he accepted the praise of their trainers. He felt as though he was untouchable, and he acted like it. No one approached his triumph, his greatness. No one. He was frequently priviledged with the leadership tasks and given responsibility over his peers, which tended to irk him at times as any team effort tended to do. The others slowed him down with their retched weakness. When they were dismissed, the striking man was pulled aside and commended by his superiors, most of who were already familiar with his success but were left in awe regardless time and time again. He walked to breakfast alone, as he felt he should, discouraging the approach of his comrades with a piercing blue-eyed glare. He selected from the ??buffet?? a tray of bland assortment of the healthy food provided for them to enhance their physical strength and body mass, and stared out about the room with his attractive features void of emotion. He stepped forward, and began to move between the chairs and tables, arresting a man who rose to greet him with a single glance before settling at one of the long tables, setting his tray down with a loud clatter before sitting. He moved gracefully into his chair, resting his hand on the back before settling, and then carefully raising his face to direct his gaze around himself. The man who had been sitting to his right rose immediately and moved from the table quickly to give the hero some space, a look of apprehension on his face, without a single word. Sephiroth, sitting very still with his hands in his lap and his gaze directed straight ahead, did not even react. Whispers broke out around him as he lifted his fork, the voices of those closest to him lowered as though they feared disturbing him, the subject of their conversation obvious. The mere fact that Sephiroth was attending breakfast with the masses was a sign in itself that something was going on in his mind- he tended to eat privately, because he saw the act of feeding himself as something that should go unwitnessed by those lesser than him because it marred his image of holiness. What was he trying to accomplish? Was he making a point? Being punished? He took his first bite after wiping his fork roughly on his napkin, allowing the substance to pass through his lips with his gaze still undirected. The taste was as absent as usual, like chewing his way through a moist sock or something of similar texture. He swallowed. More whispering. ?How bothersome,? he murmured in a voice too rich and deep and full of disdain for one his age. ?Evidently a man cannot enjoy his breakfast in peace around here.? Another tasteless bite, his irritation heightening with each onslaught of muttering. The stares were something he was used to, but when performing such an act of privacy, he preferred to be left to his own devices. Suddenly, he slammed his semi-clean utensil on the wooden table top and rose from his chair, his palms flat against the surface. Those who had not been staring before had certainly taken notice of him now. His brows were arched low over his angry eyes, his teeth visibly gritted he seemed prepared to give someone a well-deserved tongue-lashing and all those within his reach moved hastily away from the white-haired man. ?If one of you has something that they wish to say to or about me, I believe that I deserve the right to hear it directly from your mouth.? His words were clipped and precise, and he was not shouting but his voice carried easily throughout the room. His words carried the weight of a threat. ?Otherwise, I request that I be allowed to eat my breakfast in peace and without interruption.? He left his demand open, a deadly invitation to one daring enough to step forth though he knew no one would. I knew ever since I was a child, I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------