[ There's something irrational about it all: but that's how it's always been, hasn't it? Sephiroth has always spoken in these riddles he could never understand; he's always taunted him with this seemingly great knowledge, as though he's the only one gifted to be receiving it. Whether these people live or die is up to you: and why is it up to him? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to prevent something from happening when he's never seemed to be able to do it before?
Frustration wells up inside of him, and Sephiroth's touch makes it worse; his gloved hand brushes the tip of the buster sword, urging it just a hair to the side, and yet even that much seems to hook something in him, giving it a sharp pull. Becoming a God, all of the pain and suffering had been for some sort of useless dream like that?
Fueled by anger, he immediately swings the buster sword forward; he doesn't know if it's even going to connect. Even in that strange place, far away from the Planet, Sephiroth had parried his hits without much trouble at all, moving from place to place with great speed. If nothing else, maybe the strike will at least force him to disappear--or help eradicate his rage by fighting back. ]
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Frustration wells up inside of him, and Sephiroth's touch makes it worse; his gloved hand brushes the tip of the buster sword, urging it just a hair to the side, and yet even that much seems to hook something in him, giving it a sharp pull. Becoming a God, all of the pain and suffering had been for some sort of useless dream like that?
Fueled by anger, he immediately swings the buster sword forward; he doesn't know if it's even going to connect. Even in that strange place, far away from the Planet, Sephiroth had parried his hits without much trouble at all, moving from place to place with great speed. If nothing else, maybe the strike will at least force him to disappear--or help eradicate his rage by fighting back. ]