sephiroth
Sephiroth twists an ear back, listening to the ripple of water behind him. Even without looking he knows he is no longer alone. At least, physically. Sephiroth had been alone a long time, even before he went by Lourn. And even now, after.
He wasn't quite ready to be Sephiroth again just yet, but he felt as though he was close. His misguided attempt to gain his father's attention had been a failure but that didn't mean he was a failure, despite his initial feelings.
The stinging cuts on his face and body were a reminder of what had passed and a hint to a better future. He had lost but he had not perished there in the frozen wilds of the Inlet. He had realized while he was there that he did not need the bitter cold and icy chill of Tinuvel, it was in his very being.
Even if he went somewhere else on the islands, he was still a son of Tinuvel. Even losing could not take that from him. Nor could it take his anger toward his father or the need to be noticed that he pushed down each time it attempted to surface. His refusal to acknowledge such an emotion was even more proof it was there.
The mare joins him, shoulder to should, and he turns his head slightly in her direction. She is shadow and light forged together and he narrows his ever-green eyes in a critical fashion.
"That I will." His voice is deep and strong, like the deep sea, and none of his hesitance and self-doubt is tangible when he speaks. His expression is guarded but there is a sparkle of curiosity in his eye when he looks upon her.
"Tell me, stranger, what do you know of revenge?"