☄ 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

[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?

Haha, yes, it's good they're not black!

[nohometown]

I am Sephiroth.

Will you? [He's not one to accept help from others easily.

When the young man takes on his new form, Sephiroth frowns. The transformation, the single wing: they don't have positive associations for him, now less so than ever. Though in the dream, he isn't exactly sure why. He tells himself it simply isn't natural. It isn't right. For all that some may talk of angels, people shouldn't have wings.

He rises to his feet, steps back, and asks a slightly different version of his earlier question.]

What are you?