[for a long moment there isn't a sound, not even breath, save for the muted creak of leather as vincent tightens his grip on cerberus

thinking

the threat is clear; sephiroth is still set on his path of making a planet, apparently any planet, into his vessel to infest the stars with what remains of jenova. vincent won't pretend to understand what goes on in his head, why he's so set on this course, but as he watches sephiroth with narrowed eyes, he has an intuition that grows to, if not a certainty, then at least close enough to it to take a gamble.

if sephiroth were in possession of the black materia he would have used it already, he thinks. why bother making the threat to him of all people? a grudge born of the simple fact that vincent was there when he failed the first time?

the long moment breaks with a sound from vincent that might be a chuckle. it's a bitter, ragged thing from a throat that isn't used to mirth.]

You're still stuck on that. [lifted eyebrows, a look that's almost pitying. one madman to another] How many times have you failed? How many more will it take before you accept this isn't what destiny has planned for you?

[how many times had he tried to fight it, disobey orders, find a way to free them all or just her from ruin before he'd failed the last time and climbed into that box?]