Cloud says he's fine, which is par for the course...but what isn't par for the course is that it actually seems to be true. At least, Cloud isn't exhibiting strong signs of distress, any symptoms of headaches, anything to indicate his mind is in any more chaotic a state than usual. Sephiroth has certainly seen Cloud when his memories have been stirred recklessly with a stick - has even seen him when someone has carefully worked to untangle them - and it's been worse than this.
For once, Cloud might be...if not fine, then at least as close to it as men like the two of them are likely to get. That's a pleasant surprise, under the circumstances, and it's enough to relax him.
And then...Rhadore.
Cloud will see the way Sephiroth's whole body goes quite still, will realize just how surprisingly open and earnest Sephiroth's eyes tend to be when something deep in them shutters - they become distant, inscrutable, carefully blank. Whatever emotional response Sephiroth has to even the mention of Rhadore has been shut down as abruptly and ruthlessly as locks engaging on a bank vault at the sound of an alarm.
Something there, some pain...is being guarded there, so carefully. And even though, arguably, the vault has already been emptied, the security system can still be triggered.
Sephiroth's own memories of Rhadore, his violent stew of emotions about it, are so vivid that for several long moments he isn't even considering what it means that Cloud has some knowledge of them now - he's simply reliving his own agonies in the privacy of his mind. Only heightened by his impossibly convoluted feelings about Glenn having been in Town, so briefly, and disappearing again without ever exchanging a word with him...and, of course, his own younger self, so fresh from Rhadore, also gone now. Even as far out from it as he is, it's never gotten easier to think of it...and only harder still in recent days, with the recent reminders. And now this.
Finally, the wheels start to turn in regards to Cloud in connection to Rhadore. If he saw that...well, it's hard to know what exactly he saw. All of it? Parts of it? Sephiroth supposes it doesn't matter. None of it was good. None of it was excusable.
"Hardly memories worth seeing," he says, finally, through lips that seem to have very little feeling in them. "Context, perhaps, for some of the things I've said...but not sights or knowledge that anyone would welcome sharing."
It's not quite an apology - for once, Sephiroth can't pretend that this being inflicted on Cloud is his fault in any direct way - but it is an acknowledgment of how unpleasant it couldn't help but have been. Beyond that...Sephiroth isn't sure what to say about it. It's possible that Cloud thinks even worse of him now than he once did, but Sephiroth would hardly be the person to question or argue that if he does.
no subject
For once, Cloud might be...if not fine, then at least as close to it as men like the two of them are likely to get. That's a pleasant surprise, under the circumstances, and it's enough to relax him.
And then...Rhadore.
Cloud will see the way Sephiroth's whole body goes quite still, will realize just how surprisingly open and earnest Sephiroth's eyes tend to be when something deep in them shutters - they become distant, inscrutable, carefully blank. Whatever emotional response Sephiroth has to even the mention of Rhadore has been shut down as abruptly and ruthlessly as locks engaging on a bank vault at the sound of an alarm.
Something there, some pain...is being guarded there, so carefully. And even though, arguably, the vault has already been emptied, the security system can still be triggered.
Sephiroth's own memories of Rhadore, his violent stew of emotions about it, are so vivid that for several long moments he isn't even considering what it means that Cloud has some knowledge of them now - he's simply reliving his own agonies in the privacy of his mind. Only heightened by his impossibly convoluted feelings about Glenn having been in Town, so briefly, and disappearing again without ever exchanging a word with him...and, of course, his own younger self, so fresh from Rhadore, also gone now. Even as far out from it as he is, it's never gotten easier to think of it...and only harder still in recent days, with the recent reminders. And now this.
Finally, the wheels start to turn in regards to Cloud in connection to Rhadore. If he saw that...well, it's hard to know what exactly he saw. All of it? Parts of it? Sephiroth supposes it doesn't matter. None of it was good. None of it was excusable.
"Hardly memories worth seeing," he says, finally, through lips that seem to have very little feeling in them. "Context, perhaps, for some of the things I've said...but not sights or knowledge that anyone would welcome sharing."
It's not quite an apology - for once, Sephiroth can't pretend that this being inflicted on Cloud is his fault in any direct way - but it is an acknowledgment of how unpleasant it couldn't help but have been. Beyond that...Sephiroth isn't sure what to say about it. It's possible that Cloud thinks even worse of him now than he once did, but Sephiroth would hardly be the person to question or argue that if he does.