(no subject)

[heavenscrisis.livejournal.com]

Who: Jenova ( heavenscrisis), Loz ( wrecks_meanies), Yazoo ( silent_silver), and Kadaj ( adventlead) if Sephiroth hasn’t killed him by now, Christ.
Where: Mommy’s place at Marshall.
When: Backdated to like, midnight.
Rating: PG. Ish.
Summary: Recent developments call for a little family reunion.
the log:

Darkness poured with the empty platitudes as the night before this and the night before that; a solemn promise of stillness amidst the madness, but it was the stillness that rankled her most. Physical inertia wasn’t quite so disconcerting as that stagnancy on a cellular level. That was the only motion that mattered, taking precedence over interstellar motion, emotion, and every kind of motion, because she was a creature of evolution. Her composition was the apotheosis of transmutation, rapid acceleration, and any gift or curse you ever, or never, wanted to have. They called her many things and many names, fitting only because she was built to change. She changed worlds, she changed people, and she often changed history. Given the time, or simply the right hosts, she could change anything.

...But she felt the sharp prick of humanity congealing her senses, shackling her to her body in a way that seemed suffocating. It wasn’t the first time she’d been made a prisoner in her own skin, and she battled a foreboding certitude that it might not be the last. Those filthy Cetra had taken her first, then Shinra nearly two thousand years later, and finally, Sephiroth himself. But together, they had progressed down a path toward truly promising things. He had been on her mind lately, much like his disparaging tongue, and perhaps a part of her was sorry that it was going to come down to the fair contest it should have always been, but he had made himself quite clear hadn’t he...?

Poor angel. He had no idea what he wanted. Had no idea what he was getting into.

And now, things were about to change… With the arrival of her third, Jenova’s mind blossomed to new possibilities, new constructs, and new terms. The seeds of unmaking were in progress, but her beloved was beginning to unravel under the pressure of a new threat, one she could exploit.. And he would come to her. Sooner or later, he would come to her. At the end of the day, he was still hers, and with each passing day it was becoming clearer.

But even he wasn't her greatest concern when she was under attack by new aggressors. The jolt they’d given her earlier had thrown her into a perfunctory rage that had fortunately stilled as quickly as it came, it stilled as quickly as it came. She seethed quietly in that stillness, a meditative thoughtfulness presiding in wake of her outburst. The evidence was at the far wall in shattered bulb that littered the floor like eggshells, a rusted brass lamp lying in defeat amidst the fray.

Jenova was confined to the shadows, her fingers curled into the arms of a dark, sullied armchair when she heard the dull creak of wood and approaching footsteps that compelled her to languidly rise from her seat.

...Good.

The children were here...