[His response is more or less immediate and consists simply of a set of map coordinates and a time.
And at said coordinates and said time, he's there. Loose, limber, definately not nervous, and expecting ....bonding through combat. Because honestly, he's got no idea what else it could be.
But one thing he does know, it's his presence.]
...Hey.
[He steps forward from the tree he's been leaning on, bringing his eyes to Sephiroth's face. And there's no small talk.]
[He’s punctual as ever, as one might expect from someone raised within the framework of the military. Masamune glints in the light as Sephiroth approaches.
Until he stops a few feet away from Cloud, gesturing at him with one gloved, free hand.]
I’m setting a time limit. Two minutes.
[Give or take. But the stricter time constraint helps guarantee one thing, if Cloud will indulge him—]
Two minutes for you to give it your all; to come at me with everything you have. Do you understand? I don’t want you to hold back, so show me what you’re capable of, Cloud.
[Wait, what? His expression turns quizzical at the rundown- his eyebrows furrowing at the ....rather specific instructions.]
With ...actual weapons.
[It's not like they've got practise ones. If anything, with actual blades, he'd have expected something slower. But honestly, it's not like he's expecting to land a single blow on him.
It's for that reason, he rolls his shoulders, and steps forward- hand moving to the hilt of his organics.]
[That’s right, with actual weapons. There’s no point in trying to gauge Cloud’s skill level in an accurate way, not when held back by the security of practice weapons or the fear of harming the other. Sephiroth possesses no such fear, so this is not much of a gamble for him — though perhaps this sentiment is one-sided at best.]
Time starts now. On your toes.
[That’s the only warning he’ll grant him. Sephiroth doesn’t even need to fall into stance before he’s lunging forward to get them started, a horizontal swing of his too-long blade easily closing the space, boots digging into the soil as the momentum houses itself in the edge of steel.
It seems like he won’t abide by hesitation. Stay alert!]
[One-sided? Absolutely. Not like insurmountable odds have ever stopped him in the past. But even then, he's nervous. When Sephiroth lunges toward him, blade first, his chest tightens- the old wound underneath his uniform tightening in what feels like a twist.
But he knows what to do.
He raises both of his arms, holding his sword diagonally over his torso- gritting his teeth as the full force of his blow strikes it. Not like anyone is- but to anyone watching, Sephiroth's strike would look elegant. Almost like a gentle swish- but the impact is... significant. It's like being hit by ten blows at once- enough to tear up the ground underneath his feet as he's shoved backward.
...But he knows what to do.
Perhaps the move would strike Sephiroth as familiar- perhaps even identical to another person who used the exact same type of weapon. But he stays steady, pushing back against the pressure at just the right point to force his greatkatana to bounce against his sword- rolling underneath it to his feet and launching into a backslash.
[He’s well-aware of that style. Zack had employed a similar move, almost strikingly exact as what he’s seeing Cloud begin a wind-up for, and for a moment his mind travels to the memory of that man and what he knows to be the state of his death.
It isn’t enough to dislodge his focus (very little can), but it discontent stirs in his chest where it’s unwanted. Cloud’s attack is defended by raising his blade to meet it vertically, Masamune singing with crystal-like resonance. The force of the blow tries to push him back, but he repurposes that momentum to spring himself into the air, leaping backwards and closing any pursuing space with a clip of his sword.]
This all seems very familiar.
[He says as his boots meet the ground, but then he’s lunging towards Cloud again, his next stroke overhead and harder than the last.]
[It's... strange, how someone that moves as quickly, and as elegantly as Sephiroth can hit so damn hard. Anyone would think that with the way he moves, there's not all that much force behind every stroke.
But the guy breaks all of the rules. There is force, lots of it actually, and such inhuman strength combined with Sephiroth's training is a seemingly insurmountable combination.
At the next lunge- a stroke where Sephiroth appears to be trying- he has to hold his sword overhead, one hand grasping its hilt, the other pressed flat toward the end of it, in order to actually deflect.
But even then, it's painful. His knees threaten to buckle. Hell- anyone's body would, were they not enhanced themselves- and he has to grit his teeth against the overbearing, overwhelming pressure directly above him to even support it- let alone drag up the strength he needs to shove him backward.
His organics is trembling, threatening to splinter and threatening to break underneath it. It's not been forged for anything like this. Hell, the ground beneath him is shaking, threatening to give way underneath them both. So he has to be fast.
He pushes upward with a grunt, bringing both of his hands to the handle of the thing and attempting to pry the blade to the side, to make a chop at Sephiroth's midsection. He doubts it'll connect. But it's a way of getting free.
And should he be successful:]
...I got no idea what you're talkin' about.
[Spoken with a light twirl of his blade in one hand. Less theatrics, and more a way of knowing if there was any injury to his wrist. Sensing none, he darts toward Sephiroth in a forward thrust- blade first.]
[So many would buckle under the force of Masamune. Fall to the earth, lose themselves to his blade. The fact that Cloud stands his ground, still managing to deflect it despite the monstrous effort required, does say something for his skill. Not enough to override his own — even now, Sephiroth’s effort is minimal — but it’s there, a spark of a thing. He knows raw talent when he sees it, though rough around the edges, and a clear mimicry of Zack’s own style.
Despite himself, he grins a little, even as Cloud’s straining sword misses his middle and more space is put between them.]
Hit hard, hit fast. Overpower an opponent before they have an opportunity to strike back. All the hallmarks—
[Cloud’s follow-up attack is easy to read, and a forward thrust is equally simple to dodge. A shift to the left is all it takes, and the sword is redirected, grinding against Masamune as he moves past, sparks flying between crossed steel. Near the end, he gives a push forward meant to send his balance off-kilter.
It’s clear Sephiroth is just playing a little, now.]
[He's really got his number, hasn't he? It's kind of difficult to stay on task being called out like that. But he does- as best he can anyway- attempting to shrug it off.]
No better defence than offence.
[Probably a mistake. No, definately a mistake. Focusing more on a response than the way he was moving means a faceful of sparks from the both of the weapons, something not enough to hurt- not really hurt anyway, but something which interferes with his vision, something that alters his balance, something that has him vulnerable.
And yeah. That shove works well to exploit that weakness. It forces him off-balance, staggers him, and his instinct is to cover it in whatever way he could. Which is not what he knows to do- to put distance between them and move right into a bladebeam and collect himself while Sephiroth deals with that- it's to spin on one foot and launch himself into an overhead chop, the still hot blade gripped at the handle in both hands, his aim... not exactly true. Sparks to the face and all.]
[It’s true, it would have been wiser to put space between them. Sephiroth’s opponents need to allow themselves room to breathe or recoup, otherwise he will not relent, except in moments where he allows it. Again, sparring sessions like these always devolve into some mild form of amusement for him, one of the few activities that he can enjoy himself in, even if it’s utterly nerve-wracking for his partner.
So when Cloud’s sword comes careening down, so obviously about to miss its mark, Sephiroth doesn’t do more than twist his body as it lands inches away from his boots. Dirt kicks up, spraying in all directions, and the ground shudders under the assault.]
One strategy isn’t enough. [A SOLDIER needs multiple. A SOLDIER needs to adapt. In all of his years of training, he has learned how to judge the flow of battle, how to pinpoint weak spots in those who seem overconfident in their own skill. Cloud does not appear overconfident, but he does seem over-reliant on pure strength. Just ask the earth beneath their feet.]
What if an opponent is faster than you?
[Cloud’s going to have trouble countering if he’s trying to heft his sword back up, and Sephiroth takes that into account. His next assault is a series of— no, not eight strikes. He doesn’t want to kill him. But four, in quick succession, a flurry almost impossible to track with the eye. He’s making a point.]
Then I'll slow them down. Take out their legs, or something. Usually works.
[...Well, it was true. In his experience, usually using the flat of the weapon to crush kneecaps usually did the trick, be his target bipedal or not.
Yet he can't speak an answer. He's too pressed. Sephiroth's mentality with all of this seems less Harpy and more cat- his amusement is felt, but it never really overtakes some strange emotion- something akin to fear, which only grows, the more and more Sephiroth seems to be taking pleasure in his growing strain.
It's got to be past two minutes by now. It has to be- but like answering Sephiroth's simple question, he can't exactly check. He can't even ask, as busy as he is pulling the blade from where it's well and truly wedged in the earth- let alone making any kind of attempt to dodge any of those four strikes, while still keeping his hand on the blade's hilt.
Honestly, the plan went out the window some time ago. Probably at his mistake of pressing an attack earlier. He's paying for it- and he'll probably spend time paying for it, even after the blade's removed from the ground.]
[That cinches it, is the proverbial nail in the coffin. If one does not account for the weaknesses in their strategy, it will be pointed out to them by their opponent, whether by error or by blood drawn. Sephiroth is not a cruel man (yet), but he is a militaristic one, trained to beat down the rough edges of imperfection until there is nothing left but refined, impeccable instinct. He sees nothing but rough edges in Cloud — he feels the need to destroy them, for his sake.
It may be a lesson harshly learned, but it’s for his own good.
Though Masamune’s edge whispers near, threatening to glance clothing, skin, or whatever resistence Cloud manages to dredge up in his attempt to unearth his sword from the ground, one strike will meet its mark. The steel tip pierces through skin, an admittedly shallow wound, given just how badly a sword like Sephiroth’s could bury itself into the body. He purposefully chooses a benign spot around the torso, skewing towards Cloud’s side; this doesn’t change the fact that it probably hurts, probably spills more red when he draws the blade away.
To the SOLDIER’s credit, his smile does fade at the edges. The tip of his weapon shines crimson, which is signal enough to stop.]
Time’s up. [Give or take a few liberal seconds.] I’ve seen all I wanted.
[It's unexpected, this pain that makes his vision double, but the way every muscle in his body tightens in shock isn't exactly something he hasn't felt before. He knows this feeling, it's something that'll stay with him for the rest of his life. But it's different, too.
He's expecting Sephiroth to brace, to shove the greatkatana all the way out of his other side, but he doesn't. Instead, he scrapes it to the side in a long, deliberate cut- shallow but painful- and honestly, it's only his own sudden jolt to the side, reactionary of course, that makes the cut crooked. Pain gives him the strength to allow him to wrench the sword from the ground- to turn and to hold the sword above Sephiroth's head as if to strike- but he teeters, sword careening to the side where it's tossed with a loud clang.
His hands move to his side. It's shallow, but that doesn't mean it's not bleeding like a bitch. He's certain it's no accident. Sephiroth didn't have accidents. But he's also certain that if he wanted it to be worse, it would be worse. Much worse.]
Shit.
[Press harder. Press harder. And behind gitted teeth.]
...That some kind of learning experience? Or how you vent out stress?
[Just a scrape, Cloud. Were his materia more than just useless spheres now, he might even be generous enough to cast a healing spell in his direction. But the point is moot, and the wound is purposefully shallow, so despite the pain and the blood, he knows it’s nothing critical.
He doesn’t so much as react when Cloud’s weapon is swung high over his head, only to clatter unceremoniously to the ground.]
I was seeking an answer to something. I have it now.
[Sephiroth gestures to the other with his free hand, knowing it would be useless to wait for the hot flash of pain to subside. He merely continues.]
But as for you… consider this an incentive to improve.
[That's for sure. The fact he can stand is proof of that. It's a lesson- something most would likely see as a cruel one, but something he knows to be just... an incentive. To not screw up again. He doesn't have to be SOLDIER to know that.
...And lesson learned.
He drags himself to pick up his sword, grimacing faintly at the effort needed to pick it up and put it back on his harness, but he doesn't say anything. Of course not. He doesn't want pity, and he's certain Sephiroth wouldn't be inclined to give it.]
Feel like letting me know what you were after?
[Spoken as he's straightening himself up again.]
It's not like it's your job to help me. ...But I want to improve. If you're up for it, next time you'll get more of a fight.
[When he’s more inclined to have that conversation, and when Cloud isn’t bleeding out from a minor injury. He watches as the man slowly hefts his weapon up to attach it to his back, considering the offer, and Sephiroth angles Masamune vertically behind his shoulder, as well, as if to signal the end of it.
It doesn’t take much thought to accept Cloud’s implied offer.]
However, if you want to train to improve, you only need to ask me. I would rather put my idle time to good use.
[That and Cloud is his bonded, a man with whom he’s built up a small amount of rapport. There is a faint, friendly obligation, though he does not say as much.]
[That's all that there is to say, isn't it? It's not like he's still unsure of the man. It'd been long enough to know that he wasn't exactly his enemy. Hence agreeing to this in the first place, much less his behaviour around him. There's simply no reason to be curt.]
...Thanks. If you want anything in return, [...Anything he could provide, anyway.] then let me know.
[And.]
I can get myself back from here. I'll see you in a couple days.
[Anything in return? People keep offering that to him, keep checking on him. It's still a strange notion, as if the statement is always spoken in a foreign tongue.
Still, he's learned to accept it as the reality, and responds only with resigned acceptance rather than outright denial any longer.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That’ll suffice, as long as there’s space. Send me the location and I’ll meet you there when you have a moment.
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And at said coordinates and said time, he's there. Loose, limber,
definately not nervous, and expecting ....bonding through combat. Because honestly, he's got no idea what else it could be.But one thing he does know, it's his presence.]
...Hey.
[He steps forward from the tree he's been leaning on, bringing his eyes to Sephiroth's face. And there's no small talk.]
You ready?
no subject
Until he stops a few feet away from Cloud, gesturing at him with one gloved, free hand.]
I’m setting a time limit. Two minutes.
[Give or take. But the stricter time constraint helps guarantee one thing, if Cloud will indulge him—]
Two minutes for you to give it your all; to come at me with everything you have. Do you understand? I don’t want you to hold back, so show me what you’re capable of, Cloud.
no subject
With ...actual weapons.
[It's not like they've got practise ones. If anything, with actual blades, he'd have expected something slower. But honestly, it's not like he's expecting to land a single blow on him.
It's for that reason, he rolls his shoulders, and steps forward- hand moving to the hilt of his organics.]
...Right. Let me know when you're ready.
no subject
Time starts now. On your toes.
[That’s the only warning he’ll grant him. Sephiroth doesn’t even need to fall into stance before he’s lunging forward to get them started, a horizontal swing of his too-long blade easily closing the space, boots digging into the soil as the momentum houses itself in the edge of steel.
It seems like he won’t abide by hesitation. Stay alert!]
no subject
But he knows what to do.
He raises both of his arms, holding his sword diagonally over his torso- gritting his teeth as the full force of his blow strikes it. Not like anyone is- but to anyone watching, Sephiroth's strike would look elegant. Almost like a gentle swish- but the impact is... significant. It's like being hit by ten blows at once- enough to tear up the ground underneath his feet as he's shoved backward.
...But he knows what to do.
Perhaps the move would strike Sephiroth as familiar- perhaps even identical to another person who used the exact same type of weapon. But he stays steady, pushing back against the pressure at just the right point to force his greatkatana to bounce against his sword- rolling underneath it to his feet and launching into a backslash.
Think fast!]
no subject
It isn’t enough to dislodge his focus (very little can), but it discontent stirs in his chest where it’s unwanted. Cloud’s attack is defended by raising his blade to meet it vertically, Masamune singing with crystal-like resonance. The force of the blow tries to push him back, but he repurposes that momentum to spring himself into the air, leaping backwards and closing any pursuing space with a clip of his sword.]
This all seems very familiar.
[He says as his boots meet the ground, but then he’s lunging towards Cloud again, his next stroke overhead and harder than the last.]
no subject
But the guy breaks all of the rules. There is force, lots of it actually, and such inhuman strength combined with Sephiroth's training is a seemingly insurmountable combination.
At the next lunge- a stroke where Sephiroth appears to be trying- he has to hold his sword overhead, one hand grasping its hilt, the other pressed flat toward the end of it, in order to actually deflect.
But even then, it's painful. His knees threaten to buckle. Hell- anyone's body would, were they not enhanced themselves- and he has to grit his teeth against the overbearing, overwhelming pressure directly above him to even support it- let alone drag up the strength he needs to shove him backward.
His organics is trembling, threatening to splinter and threatening to break underneath it. It's not been forged for anything like this. Hell, the ground beneath him is shaking, threatening to give way underneath them both. So he has to be fast.
He pushes upward with a grunt, bringing both of his hands to the handle of the thing and attempting to pry the blade to the side, to make a chop at Sephiroth's midsection. He doubts it'll connect. But it's a way of getting free.
And should he be successful:]
...I got no idea what you're talkin' about.
[Spoken with a light twirl of his blade in one hand. Less theatrics, and more a way of knowing if there was any injury to his wrist. Sensing none, he darts toward Sephiroth in a forward thrust- blade first.]
no subject
Despite himself, he grins a little, even as Cloud’s straining sword misses his middle and more space is put between them.]
Hit hard, hit fast. Overpower an opponent before they have an opportunity to strike back. All the hallmarks—
[Cloud’s follow-up attack is easy to read, and a forward thrust is equally simple to dodge. A shift to the left is all it takes, and the sword is redirected, grinding against Masamune as he moves past, sparks flying between crossed steel. Near the end, he gives a push forward meant to send his balance off-kilter.
It’s clear Sephiroth is just playing a little, now.]
—of Zack Fair’s own approach to battle.
no subject
No better defence than offence.
[Probably a mistake. No, definately a mistake. Focusing more on a response than the way he was moving means a faceful of sparks from the both of the weapons, something not enough to hurt- not really hurt anyway, but something which interferes with his vision, something that alters his balance, something that has him vulnerable.
And yeah. That shove works well to exploit that weakness. It forces him off-balance, staggers him, and his instinct is to cover it in whatever way he could. Which is not what he knows to do- to put distance between them and move right into a bladebeam and collect himself while Sephiroth deals with that- it's to spin on one foot and launch himself into an overhead chop, the still hot blade gripped at the handle in both hands, his aim... not exactly true. Sparks to the face and all.]
no subject
So when Cloud’s sword comes careening down, so obviously about to miss its mark, Sephiroth doesn’t do more than twist his body as it lands inches away from his boots. Dirt kicks up, spraying in all directions, and the ground shudders under the assault.]
One strategy isn’t enough. [A SOLDIER needs multiple. A SOLDIER needs to adapt. In all of his years of training, he has learned how to judge the flow of battle, how to pinpoint weak spots in those who seem overconfident in their own skill. Cloud does not appear overconfident, but he does seem over-reliant on pure strength. Just ask the earth beneath their feet.]
What if an opponent is faster than you?
[Cloud’s going to have trouble countering if he’s trying to heft his sword back up, and Sephiroth takes that into account. His next assault is a series of— no, not eight strikes. He doesn’t want to kill him. But four, in quick succession, a flurry almost impossible to track with the eye. He’s making a point.]
no subject
[...Well, it was true. In his experience, usually using the flat of the weapon to crush kneecaps usually did the trick, be his target bipedal or not.
Yet he can't speak an answer. He's too pressed. Sephiroth's mentality with all of this seems less Harpy and more cat- his amusement is felt, but it never really overtakes some strange emotion- something akin to fear, which only grows, the more and more Sephiroth seems to be taking pleasure in his growing strain.
It's got to be past two minutes by now. It has to be- but like answering Sephiroth's simple question, he can't exactly check. He can't even ask, as busy as he is pulling the blade from where it's well and truly wedged in the earth- let alone making any kind of attempt to dodge any of those four strikes, while still keeping his hand on the blade's hilt.
Honestly, the plan went out the window some time ago. Probably at his mistake of pressing an attack earlier. He's paying for it- and he'll probably spend time paying for it, even after the blade's removed from the ground.]
no subject
It may be a lesson harshly learned, but it’s for his own good.
Though Masamune’s edge whispers near, threatening to glance clothing, skin, or whatever resistence Cloud manages to dredge up in his attempt to unearth his sword from the ground, one strike will meet its mark. The steel tip pierces through skin, an admittedly shallow wound, given just how badly a sword like Sephiroth’s could bury itself into the body. He purposefully chooses a benign spot around the torso, skewing towards Cloud’s side; this doesn’t change the fact that it probably hurts, probably spills more red when he draws the blade away.
To the SOLDIER’s credit, his smile does fade at the edges. The tip of his weapon shines crimson, which is signal enough to stop.]
Time’s up. [Give or take a few liberal seconds.] I’ve seen all I wanted.
no subject
[It's unexpected, this pain that makes his vision double, but the way every muscle in his body tightens in shock isn't exactly something he hasn't felt before. He knows this feeling, it's something that'll stay with him for the rest of his life. But it's different, too.
He's expecting Sephiroth to brace, to shove the greatkatana all the way out of his other side, but he doesn't. Instead, he scrapes it to the side in a long, deliberate cut- shallow but painful- and honestly, it's only his own sudden jolt to the side, reactionary of course, that makes the cut crooked. Pain gives him the strength to allow him to wrench the sword from the ground- to turn and to hold the sword above Sephiroth's head as if to strike- but he teeters, sword careening to the side where it's tossed with a loud clang.
His hands move to his side. It's shallow, but that doesn't mean it's not bleeding like a bitch. He's certain it's no accident. Sephiroth didn't have accidents. But he's also certain that if he wanted it to be worse, it would be worse. Much worse.]
Shit.
[Press harder. Press harder. And behind gitted teeth.]
...That some kind of learning experience? Or how you vent out stress?
[Just a scrape. Just a scrape.]
no subject
He doesn’t so much as react when Cloud’s weapon is swung high over his head, only to clatter unceremoniously to the ground.]
I was seeking an answer to something. I have it now.
[Sephiroth gestures to the other with his free hand, knowing it would be useless to wait for the hot flash of pain to subside. He merely continues.]
But as for you… consider this an incentive to improve.
no subject
...And lesson learned.
He drags himself to pick up his sword, grimacing faintly at the effort needed to pick it up and put it back on his harness, but he doesn't say anything. Of course not. He doesn't want pity, and he's certain Sephiroth wouldn't be inclined to give it.]
Feel like letting me know what you were after?
[Spoken as he's straightening himself up again.]
It's not like it's your job to help me. ...But I want to improve. If you're up for it, next time you'll get more of a fight.
no subject
[When he’s more inclined to have that conversation, and when Cloud isn’t bleeding out from a minor injury. He watches as the man slowly hefts his weapon up to attach it to his back, considering the offer, and Sephiroth angles Masamune vertically behind his shoulder, as well, as if to signal the end of it.
It doesn’t take much thought to accept Cloud’s implied offer.]
However, if you want to train to improve, you only need to ask me. I would rather put my idle time to good use.
[That and Cloud is his bonded, a man with whom he’s built up a small amount of rapport. There is a faint, friendly obligation, though he does not say as much.]
no subject
[That's all that there is to say, isn't it? It's not like he's still unsure of the man. It'd been long enough to know that he wasn't exactly his enemy. Hence agreeing to this in the first place, much less his behaviour around him. There's simply no reason to be curt.]
...Thanks. If you want anything in return, [...Anything he could provide, anyway.] then let me know.
[And.]
I can get myself back from here. I'll see you in a couple days.
no subject
Still, he's learned to accept it as the reality, and responds only with resigned acceptance rather than outright denial any longer.]
I'll be sure to.
[Before Cloud goes, he makes certain to add-]
Find a healer. Don't let your wound fester.