☄ let down your hair

[nohometown]

You find yourself standing beneath a dark, clouded sky, with a great tower rising before you. A forbidding sight, so at first it's easy to overlook one aspect of the scene that seems somehow out of place.

Yet if one is observant, one may notice that there's a long, unbound skein of silver hanging down one side of the building, from an open window that's quite high up (the 67th Floor, to be precise). In that high chamber, Sephiroth sits waiting, thoughtful and even a little wistful. He isn't supposed to let his hair down without being ordered to do so, but he tires of his seclusion here, and of following orders.

The doors and lower windows of the tower cannot be entered, sealed by some force, and guarded. There appears to be no viable way to enter, other than that strange, pale, silver fall of hair.

So, do you climb it?

[[OOC: The tale of Sephpunzel. Relevant image. If you'd like to be already in the story or play some character other than the rope-climber, be my guest!

You can also request child Sephiroth (pinnaculum) instead of adult Sephiroth, but I'll default to adult if not specified otherwise.]]

Comments

YES YES YES

[waterfell]

[The knight-errant tilts back her head, looking up the side of the tower to the distant floor (can there really be hair that long?). She tugs at the silver rope, testing its strength, before even considering putting the brunt of her weight on it.

She gives a quick look to both sides to be sure no one is nearby observing. Then she starts to climb.]

AS PROMISED :D

[nohometown]

[Sephiroth blinks at this tug on his hair. Usually, it's only the professor or one of the executives who climbs up. Of course, this could be one of them, but the weight is relatively light and unfamiliar. He's curious about who it could be.

(And in truth, he's been hoping for something different. Something new.)

His hair holds, of course.]

It is glorious XD

[waterfell]

[It's definitely something new. The tower is very strange, and unlike any architecture in her own world. She climbs upward. The knight-errant herself has blue hair, and a distinctive uniform and cloak. Her sword, a thin rapier that looks as translucent as ice, stays strapped by her side.

And she climbs. Hand over hand, it's taxing work after the first several floors, and there are many more to go. She pauses, but this will only sap her strength as she holds on; she makes herself keep going.

And she climbs. Finally, she is close enough for the blue hair to just peek in the window, followed by the rest of her. Relieved to be at the end of the climb, she finds herself face to face with-]

Sephiroth?

Haha, thank you <3

[nohometown]

[He waits, patiently. His hair--all of him, in fact--is strong enough to allow what others might not be able to bear.

When she finally comes into view, he's taken aback. He wasn't sure who he was expecting, but it wasn't her. She doesn't seem to fit into his home world, somehow, especially not as she's dressed now.]

Ami.

[waterfell]

[The uniform is easily changed, though her own might not be any more familiar; but fitting into this world is harder than that. She doesn't think to ask why she just finished climbing Sephiroth's hair; it seems natural somehow.]

The same! It took awhile to climb that way, but I've made it.

[nohometown]

[However, he doesn't comment on her appearance.]

It's good to see you, but it's dangerous here.

[His world tends to be bleak. Utilitarian at times; but even the more frivolous designs aren't usually colorful or bright.

In this dream, he has no agency; like a princess trapped in a tower. (Bringing up the question of how much agency he has in his waking life.)]

They might return at any moment. [However, he pulls up his hair, coiling it up and resting it beside him.]

[waterfell]

[She knows what it is to live a life determined by others, whether as the dutiful girl who only lived to make her mother proud, or the soldier expected to melt to the whims of a cold man, who infuriates him by refusing.

Maybe that's why she doesn't like the note of futility in Sephiroth's words.]

So you're saying I should hide?

[nohometown]

[He turns to regard the floor where they find themselves. It's the Science Department. The light is dim and greenish. He gets to his feet, curling his hair around his arm.]

It might be for the best. The professor won't be pleased if he finds you here.

sephpunzel would you like a plucky pet sidekick :c

[anonfantry]

[ It isn't from the base of the tower, but from another dark corner of that high outer chamber, that a sudden noisy rustling comes- Followed closely by a tumbling mass of gold feathers and gangly limbs, rolling out of its makeshift nest.

For an adolescent, the chocobo is still quite small - but while this remains a clear point of contention to him, it's admittedly all the better for hiding from that deeply unpleasant professor and his ilk. Whenever they come around, he does his best not to be noticed.

Which makes this a rather rare occasion, as he can clearly see that Sephiroth has let down his hair, and usually that means someone's coming up. But he hasn't heard any calls from the bottom, and no one appears to be struggling up the perilous climb, from the looks of that uninterrupted contemplation, so what in the world is he doing, there?

After carefully righting himself with as much dignity as he can salvage, the bird puffs out his chest and stalks a little closer to the open window and its stoic occupant. Warking indignantly, at this impasse, would be completely impolite - no matter how much he'd like to. ]

YESSS, every princess needs one!

[nohometown]

[Sephiroth turns at the familiar sound of the chocobo emerging from its nest and crossing the floor toward him. Fortunately, the chocobo, being from a relatively common species, and not a particularly unusual example in spite of his smaller size, has escaped, if not the notice, then the interest of the professor. He tends to discount any animal that isn't a potentially interesting subject.

It's clear to Sephiroth from the state of his feathers that he's a little out of sorts.

It is the nature of lonely princesses and their plucky animal sidekicks that they speak to them as if they are ordinary people. He doesn't quite sigh, but he would if he were slightly more expressive.]

It's all right. There's nothing wrong. [He regards his hair thoughtfully, still hanging out the window, its great length unfurled.] I simply thought--perhaps something different would happen today. Of course, it likely won't.

[It never does, always more or less the same. But there's one thing that's changed: he never used to mind so much.]

now all we need is a dashing hero to crash this party

[anonfantry]

[ Naturally. Just as it is the nature of all incredibly loyal animal sidekicks to understand human language perfectly - and yet only possess the most rudimentary means of communicating in return.

Though, really, there's little interpretation needed for the bewildered look Sephiroth receives in response to that bold aspiration. Different usually doesn't mean anything good, around this place - though he's fortunate enough to have been spared any of the interest, himself, he'd have to be twice as dense to miss the relative displeasure with which Sephiroth faces the fancy of those who regularly scale the tower.

As far as Cloud's concerned, nothing nice comes from out there.

But, for the moment, he does seem to settle on curiosity over skepticism, all but the loose feathers his habitually clumsy emergence knocked askew flattening back into form, as he hops another few steps nearer - up to a reasonable distance at which to hold a conversation. ]

Wark!

[ Okay, all right, he'll do whatever he can to help, even if he still isn't sure this is such an excellent idea. ]

we do, then we'll have everything!

[nohometown]

[And of course, being a princess with a sidekick, even though the chocobo is limited to wark-ing in response, Sephiroth has a fairly good idea, even a complex understanding, of what his companion means, going by just this simple sound which ordinarily wouldn't communicate all that much. They just understand each other, that's all. It's perfectly logical!

He nods. Yes, he sees where you're coming from, small, adorable bird friend.]

I know, but I don't mean that kind of different. I mean truly different. [Not some new test or trial thought of by the professor and the executives, but maybe something actually interesting. In a good way.]

I've been beginning to wonder if we should try going down into the city on our own. To see what it's like.

[Because like any tower-trapped princess, Sephiroth is incurably curious about what might be outside the tower.] If only we could be sure of the professor staying away for long enough. [Because he certainly wouldn't take Sephiroth's escape lightly.] And had a reliable way down.

[He's still working on this plan. It has a few kinks in it.]

[anonfantry]

[ In spite of all his evident misgivings, different different doesn't sound quite as terrible as the normal sort of different he'd had in mind, first, and with an encouraging flap of stunted wings (Go on), the chocobo bounces lightly in approval.

(It's a slightly embarrassing impulse, but there's simply nothing to be done for instinct ingrained so deeply as that little bobbing dance of enthusiasm.)

At that last lamentable realization, though, he finds it very easy to calm, again - right, of course, they couldn't really just sneak out and hope for the best. There was still the very real problem of being sixty-seven stories up.

This time, Cloud flaps a little despondently, turning away from the window and its suddenly rather tempting view of the outside world. Being a flightless giant (but still comparatively small) bird must make him a very disappointing sidekick...

But he's determined not to give up trying, yet! Leaving behind a couple of molted feathers in his hurry, he bolts back to his nest. Hidden behind and beneath the convenient array of furniture, the place where he sleeps is really just a messy collection of cast-off - mostly outgrown or unguarded clothing (the latter largely just coats pilfered from unwary lab techs). In his beak, he snatches up the sleeve of the nearest article and runs it out trailing behind him all the way to where the terribly imposing princess is busily brooding.

Leaving this lying in a dingy white line across the floor, he rushes back to repeat the retrieval a second time (stumbling only a little), then a third (falling down more than a little). Without hands, it's a difficult pantomime when he stops and attempts to excitedly imply that tying the clothes together into a rope might be the brightest idea he's ever had, but hopefully some of that warrrking translates. ]

[nohometown]

[He watches the chocobo bouncing and flapping his agreement, with the faintest of smiles, because even the gloomiest princess smiles at a plucky animal sidekick, at least every once in a while.

He watches, and he waits, as the chocobo brings out the garments one by one, then mimes tying them together. He nods. He understands what's meant, maybe because of the pantomime, and maybe because of the warking, or maybe a little of both. After all, with a chocobo as your only companion, you get to be good at translating.]

It's an idea. But we'll need so many to make it long enough.

[He sighs. He's not sure how good the idea is. While there's more fabric they can use in the laboratory than these few garments, there isn't that much readily available. Sixty-seven floors is a long, long way. They're perhaps much higher up than the usual tower that could be escaped from by ropes made from clothing and linens.

It would take time to make a rope long enough. How could they hide the losses and the rope for the time it would take? But climbing down themselves is an idea.]

There's only one thing long enough here for us to climb down.

[Of course, he looks at his hair. There's only one way he could climb down his own hair. An irrevocable, drastic way. He can already imagine how livid the professor would be if he dared cut it.]

[anonfantry]

[ Being an earthbound bird (and a very small one, at that), Cloud is not very well versed in properly estimating the height of impossibly tall man-made towers; to his perception, it seems he's hauled out more than a few miles' length of rope for them, by the time he's finished.

And it's an absolutely crushing blow to his momentary burst of confidence, when Sephiroth declares the effort inadequate. Even his feathers appear to droop in defeat, as he shuffles a step back and drops to sit on his feet upon the cold, steel floor. It's the chocobo equivalent of mimicking that sigh - all melodrama unintended.

The resignation is real, though. They've spent time enough accepting mere complacency for him to take this rejection as admonishment for having had the idea, in the first place - at least until his most esteemed princess speaks up, again, of the unthinkable.

Naturally, his reaction to the implication beneath that seemingly simple statement of fact is, at first, appropriately shocked. The startled sound that escapes him is not a proper wark at all, in fact. Except...

Well, is there really any point in being so cautious? Thinking of the future, he can't see wanting to climb back up to the top of their imposing prison - even if the world outside is populated only by the types of people who come to make their demands of and run their tests on their prize captive. If that's all they know, now, it won't really make much difference, either way.

In for a gil, in for a gallon.

(Not that he'd know one for the other, himself.)

Given the way that professor guards Sephiroth so jealously, already, irrevocable and drastic seem like a proportionate measure of response. If he really wants to get out there, that is.

Cloud's inquisitive look is even more hesitant, this time, wilting pride fresh from chastisement - but it persists, just the same. ]

I just want to keep chocobo-Cloud forever!

[nohometown]

[It's all right, he doesn't expect a chocobo to understand such matters. It was actually an astounding idea for a chocobo to have; for one to understand the concept of tying clothes together when they don't wear any and don't use tools is quite impressive.

He sees those drooping feathers and that sad despondency over there. He responds with a brief, not particularly warm statement:]

It was a good idea.

[He says it because he means it. He's not the kind of person to give false praise, not even to his adorable animal sidekick.]

We just need more.

[And he looks at his hair again. Having worn his hair so long, for so long, Sephiroth finds contemplating his new idea a little startling himself. His own thoughts are similar to that of his chocobo. Having guarded him so closely and made it so hard for him to be reached, the professor has somehow left him in charge of the only way in or out. And all that's keeping him from using it is his own training and his own habit. He'd grown up this way and grown so used to it that he hadn't considered doing something different.

He might not even have come up with this idea if not for Cloud's idea, because before the moment he'd thought it, it had seemed unthinkable.

He wonders if he should stop to plan, or if waiting will make this seem impossible again, as it did moments ago. Honestly, what good will waiting do? Any significant preparations he makes would be noticed. And if the professor even suspects, he'll likely take this last thing out of Sephiroth's control.

What do they have to lose? Nothing.]

It's time.

[Who knows when the professor will be back?]

Time to play the dragon title literally ~_^

[sealedtruth]

[The creature which approaches the tower has no need of the silver skein of hair to reach the upper floors of the tower. In appearance it looks serpentine and sleek. It has no obvious wings but with the way its rising through the air around the tower, it appears not to need them.

Upon reaching the window of the tower, it hovers there just within range of touch, perhaps merely studying the owner of the hair, or maybe its waiting for its presence to attract attention, who knows what goes on in the minds of dragons?]

Excellent!

[nohometown]

[It doesn't take Sephiroth long at all to notice the dragon, so his attention is attracted almost at once. Who could miss a creature of that size? It would be difficult to do so for long. Yet it's taken him off guard, because he hadn't been expecting anything of the kind.

Trapped in a tower he might be, but he's not without defenses. He reaches for his sword, not wielding it yet, only touching the hilt, watching and waiting to see what the creature might do next.]

What do you want?

[He's not sure if it's able to speak, but it can't hurt to try talking to it.]

[sealedtruth]

[And it can! Though most of the time people tend to end up running away from him before he has a chance to, unfortunately.]

Merely curious as to what this tower holds. What about you? What is it that you want?

[nohometown]

[He considers the dragon after it speaks, not moving his hand away from the sword, but not attacking, either. He isn't afraid. Not only does it not seem to be threatening him, but there are few things he need fear.]

It is as you see it.

[He gestures into the dark of the Science Research floor behind him. At the question, he pauses. He hates admitting to indecision, but for some reason, he does.]

I'm not certain.

[sealedtruth]

[The slender head of the dragon drew closer to the window, tilting slightly as it looks further into it beyond Sephiroth before it turns again toward the man seated in front of it.]

If you could leave, would you?

[nohometown]

[He's never seen a dragon like this before. It's unusual, let alone the fact that it can speak like a human.] Who are you?

And yes, I would. [This question is much easier to answer.]

rather convenient that both angeal and fuuma possess white wings *cough*

[sealedtruth]

Kamui. [The way the name is spoken however, makes it sound more like a title than a personal name.]

I will aid you in leaving then. [The dragon seems to gather light about its form and it changes into a young man, with one white wing holding him aloft some how.

The man that has replaced the dragon now extends one hand toward Sephiroth.]

Shall we go?

[toweroflearning]

[There aren't very many towers in the land. The tallest belongs to an important man with a lot of money and also plenty of things that need keeping in towers. It was built for that man by another man who was paid a bit of money for doing so, far less than he should have been really-- but that was all right because he didn't build it for the money anyhow. He built it because he loved towers.

The man who built the tower came to look at it sometimes, at least once a season. He liked to see the way it seemed to change along with the landscape as the year passed. These changes were really only visible to his eye, which was the eye of love and noticed everything.

This day of this season, however, the man stood at his favorite vantage point and looked at his tower and noted a change that would have been quite easily spotted by any passerby. A long fall of what he first took to be silverish rope was hanging from a high window. Upon closer (much closer) inspection, the material proved to be very like hair. But who could have hair so long? And why was the owner of the hair hanging it out of a 67th Floor window? Looking upwards, Reeve (for that was the builder's name) gave the hair an experimental tug.]

Hello?

[nohometown]

[Sephiroth felt the tug on his hair. It wasn't the same tug used by the professor or the executives. That was different. It made him curious enough to lean out the window and look down.

It was a long, long way down, but his eyesight was very good, and he was sure he didn't recognize the man who stood below. That was even more curious.]

Hello. [He had to call out to be heard over such a long distance.]