Sephiroth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nohometown) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2012-06-12 06:43 pm
nohometown) wrote in onepassingnight2012-06-12 06:43 pm
☄ Dream Impossible Dreams
He knows, when he's awake, that it's impossible. He'll never have children. For a variety of reasons. He's devoted to his work. He has no time. Physiologically, due to his altered genes and the radiation treatments, he is unable to father children. Even if he could, with medical assistance, would he want to? Wouldn't any children he fathered belong to ShinRa as well?
What would become of such children? Would they grow wings and fly away? The idea isn't as far-fetched as it should be, considering what had happened to his friends. Why would he want children in a world like this?
But he's dreaming now. In dreams, he can have another life. He's dressed in plain clothes, black pants and a white dress shirt, standing in a a room, in a house. An ordinary house. It's not in Midgar, but somewhere else, far away. He can look through the window and see trees. The curtains are wide open, and sunlight pours in through them, and he knows, somehow, that this is "home". His home. With the certainty of a dreamer, who can believe impossible things, he knows that his family lives here. His children. There are pictures of them on the wall. Their possessions can be seen here and there, and some of the books on the shelves are theirs--not his own dry volumes about science and military history. He stands there for a while, not doing anything in particular, quiet and distantly content as he takes in this place, this existence, becomes accustomed to it.
He doesn't stir until hears a sound behind him. There someone here with him. He turns and smiles at them, a casual, fond smile for someone he sees almost every day of his life. "Hello." He asks a simple question. "How was your day?"
[[OOC: Anyone is welcome to be one of Sephiroth's "kids". (Relatives or spouses of any gender to talk about family are also welcome, if you prefer.) Feel free to age characters down, if you like, but grown up kids are also fine. Prose or action spam both welcome; I'll match you.]]
What would become of such children? Would they grow wings and fly away? The idea isn't as far-fetched as it should be, considering what had happened to his friends. Why would he want children in a world like this?
But he's dreaming now. In dreams, he can have another life. He's dressed in plain clothes, black pants and a white dress shirt, standing in a a room, in a house. An ordinary house. It's not in Midgar, but somewhere else, far away. He can look through the window and see trees. The curtains are wide open, and sunlight pours in through them, and he knows, somehow, that this is "home". His home. With the certainty of a dreamer, who can believe impossible things, he knows that his family lives here. His children. There are pictures of them on the wall. Their possessions can be seen here and there, and some of the books on the shelves are theirs--not his own dry volumes about science and military history. He stands there for a while, not doing anything in particular, quiet and distantly content as he takes in this place, this existence, becomes accustomed to it.
He doesn't stir until hears a sound behind him. There someone here with him. He turns and smiles at them, a casual, fond smile for someone he sees almost every day of his life. "Hello." He asks a simple question. "How was your day?"
[[OOC: Anyone is welcome to be one of Sephiroth's "kids". (Relatives or spouses of any gender to talk about family are also welcome, if you prefer.) Feel free to age characters down, if you like, but grown up kids are also fine. Prose or action spam both welcome; I'll match you.]]
no subject
It's best to leave the toys for them. They can clean them up later. [He'll make certain they do--but although in a sterner mood, he might call them in to do so now, it is nice to have this chance to talk with Reeve, just the two of them, alone.] Why don't we talk, for now? I'm not in the mood for building blocks.
[He steps around said building blocks on his way to the couch.
In spite of his relentlessly serious tone, this is meant as a joke.]
You have no more meetings today. I'll be sure not to call any. How is your work? [He's curious. Reeve is an engineer, and it's a subject that genuinely interests him.]