Angeal Hewley; Killed in Action (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sirenspull_logs2012-09-16 04:33 pm
mentors) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-09-16 04:33 pm
Entry tags:
I swear they're out there, I swear;
Who: Angeal and Sephiroth
When: Sunday 9/16
Where: Violet Systems, Product Testing Room and Sephiroth's Office
Summary: They've spent a year walking around a subject too sensitive to bring up, but after their first spar in almost the same amount of time, it seems only right to face it.
Warnings: Mentions of Angeal's death.
It's something they have gone into cautiously, talked about a little beforehand before deciding yes, maybe this is something they can do again. After all, it wasn't either of them that had been injured last time, though they all had suffered from it, more then they wished to admit, more than they wanted to remember.
The little spar, First Class fun, that had sent their lives spiraling out of control.
So they are careful, Angeal presents his blades, the Buster and the one crafted in the port to his friend for inspection before they start, long minutes of the beginning careful circling and watching with banter attached to it before Angeal makes his move. The two of them were far from the type to charge first, but if they were going to spar, then one of them had to.
Angeal doesn't mind being that person, being the one to make the first move.
Sephiroth is not the War Hero of Wutai for nothing, and much like in their other spars, Angeal loses his advantage of striking first, quicker now that it was only one on one, until he is the one on the defensive, trading blows and even as quick as he is, not quite able to get underneath the man's guard until he draws the Buster.
Competitive, fierce, even with the joy of a battle, neither of them forget they are sparring a friend. Blades are turned to the flat edge to strike, wrists flicked to interrupt their own attacks to keep them from being deadly, and even when Angeal is thrown across the room (for he would never let the Buster Sword be taken from him, wrenched from him so even if it meant a sprain.) and he can't scramble quick enough up to the next position, he still smiles when the tip of Sephrioth's blade comes to rest against his chest, right over his heart.
And smiles even more when that blade is pulled away and a hand takes his place, his friend pulling him back up to his feet.
"Don't act smug," He teases the silver haired man, a laugh in his voice even as he switches the Buster between his hands, rolling his dominant one with a bare hint of a wince. "I had you on the ropes there for more than a bit."
When: Sunday 9/16
Where: Violet Systems, Product Testing Room and Sephiroth's Office
Summary: They've spent a year walking around a subject too sensitive to bring up, but after their first spar in almost the same amount of time, it seems only right to face it.
Warnings: Mentions of Angeal's death.
It's something they have gone into cautiously, talked about a little beforehand before deciding yes, maybe this is something they can do again. After all, it wasn't either of them that had been injured last time, though they all had suffered from it, more then they wished to admit, more than they wanted to remember.
The little spar, First Class fun, that had sent their lives spiraling out of control.
So they are careful, Angeal presents his blades, the Buster and the one crafted in the port to his friend for inspection before they start, long minutes of the beginning careful circling and watching with banter attached to it before Angeal makes his move. The two of them were far from the type to charge first, but if they were going to spar, then one of them had to.
Angeal doesn't mind being that person, being the one to make the first move.
Sephiroth is not the War Hero of Wutai for nothing, and much like in their other spars, Angeal loses his advantage of striking first, quicker now that it was only one on one, until he is the one on the defensive, trading blows and even as quick as he is, not quite able to get underneath the man's guard until he draws the Buster.
Competitive, fierce, even with the joy of a battle, neither of them forget they are sparring a friend. Blades are turned to the flat edge to strike, wrists flicked to interrupt their own attacks to keep them from being deadly, and even when Angeal is thrown across the room (for he would never let the Buster Sword be taken from him, wrenched from him so even if it meant a sprain.) and he can't scramble quick enough up to the next position, he still smiles when the tip of Sephrioth's blade comes to rest against his chest, right over his heart.
And smiles even more when that blade is pulled away and a hand takes his place, his friend pulling him back up to his feet.
"Don't act smug," He teases the silver haired man, a laugh in his voice even as he switches the Buster between his hands, rolling his dominant one with a bare hint of a wince. "I had you on the ropes there for more than a bit."
no subject
"No, I don't mind it at all... But I really do need to get back into it." There isn't a war to fight, nor are they touted out to go after enemies like attack dogs anymore, but clearly, simple training exercises behind the house aren't going to do it, if he wants to keep up with the other. "I'm glad I know we don't need to anymore, but there is always in case of an emergency."
And here in Siren's Port, that was every few months or so.
no subject
Sephiroth rolls his shoulders as they talk, leather and armor moving with the motion, before he drops into a lunge and accompanying set of swords forms. It's both a desire for and an economy of motion: he does not sit idle very well; he is too much a man of action. But his attention is focused on Angeal even as he moves, continuing the thread of conversation easily.
"I couldn't imagine giving it up." Sephiroth's hand unconsciously twitches on the Masamune's hilt as he speaks; he doesn't even realize he's doing it. The sword has been his constant companion for years now, to the point of being an extension of his own body. Then again, he's been much more active with his weapon than have been his companions in their time in the Port, but it's also no secret to Angeal that there are times in which Sephiroth has considered himself merely a weapon in living form. "But I might consider sparring on a more regular basis, perhaps."
It's a big consideration for him; Sephiroth does not spar much anymore, outside of his work with Lee Chaolan's machines and in his ventures out in the Darkness. It is perhaps his own form of avoidance of the situation that had caused the rift between all of them in the first place -- something else he does not discuss.
no subject
He only smiles when the other moves though the motions, precise as ever, not a flawed or even hitched movement to be found from the Silver General. He lets his eyes close in a slow blink, simply observing him for a few long moments more as he moves, before reaching over to retrieve the Buster Sword, holding it in font of him, both hands on the hilt.
"It just kind of happened, for me." He can't speak of Genesis' experiences, as they were different from his own, and thinking that draws him a little further back into the past than he liked to be. "But maybe it is better this way. The Port does not have much need for what we use to do, and..."
A long pause, and maybe, maybe that was truly it, the reason for being alright with settling down so. "Helping and healing is a good way to atone." 'After what I had done.', those words hang after his sentence, unfinished but just as easily expressed.
no subject
Out of the corner of his eye Sephiroth observes Angeal taking up his sword again, but not moving to step into their spar just yet. He shifts himself, an invitation if Angeal will take it, opening his stance if Angeal will decide to slip in with him.
"It need not just be about the Port's needs." After all, the Port does not have a great need for the Silver General either, but Sephiroth himself has too much need of his blade and his military life to give it up. Peace does not suit a man created specifically for war. and he has made no secret to Angeal that he has been seeing Doctor Yumeno, in regard to the possibility of becoming more, right down to the genetic level -- to become, truly, the perfect SOLDIER.
He pauses though at that confession, both the spoken words and the ones that go silent but still fall into the space between them. Straightening, stilling all movement, he simply looks at Angeal, inviting him to talk further.
no subject
"I know," A light nod to his friend, even with the sword in front of him. "I'll never not be a SOLDIER no matter what I do, it is too much a part of me. Of you, as well." It runs though their blood, as much metaphorically as it does literally and Angeal knows it. Slowly, even though his friend has switched out of it, he moves away from the wall to meet him, stepping into a stance as an offering. Not a true spar, not while they talk, but forms the both of them can practice and move together in.
"I did a lot I'm not proud of, even when I wasn't thinking straight." The Degradation was left for him, but had left Angeal in a haze almost; feeling trapped, with no way out, even more so after Genesis had died. "If I can help other people..."