[Sephiroth hears a voice speak as if from far away and turns slowly, blinking the dazzling lights of the spire from his eyes.
Aerith, the last Cetra, dressed in beach wear.
The sight of someone dressed for a relaxing vacation in a world built to sentence people for crimes strikes him as absurd. A soft grunt, nearly a laugh, rises from his throat.]
Heh!
...All I heard was a voice speaking without words.
Listen. Do you hear it too?
[He nods back toward the spire, hoping to see if anyone else becomes as transfixed by its light as he had been.]
no subject
Aerith, the last Cetra, dressed in beach wear.
The sight of someone dressed for a relaxing vacation in a world built to sentence people for crimes strikes him as absurd. A soft grunt, nearly a laugh, rises from his throat.]
Heh!
...All I heard was a voice speaking without words.
Listen. Do you hear it too?
[He nods back toward the spire, hoping to see if anyone else becomes as transfixed by its light as he had been.]