[Avenger. That sounds more like a title then a proper name, but who is Sephiroth to talk when he offers his own up, strange even in the context of home? ]
Sephiroth.
[Another strike, meant to push away. He makes a leap back, putting ample space between them with minimal effort.]
[a title that fits him better than any real name, that cloaks him as much as his coat does. the laugh it wrenches from him is harsh, clear - honest, somehow.]
And I yours. It's somewhat refreshing.
[he adjusts his position from where he's fallen back, eyes bright, and his next lunge forward is the speed he's used to, drawing on the power of the tattoo. the energy fuels him, makes him fast - he's stopped playing, it seems, if not intending to kill. only to judge where his opponent stands.]
The sudden uptick in speed is more than human, more than the slow ease that he must usually force himself into when he fights against others. It’s more interesting this way, like fighting another SOLDIER than just a civilian with a sword, and even when he meets each strike with a parry, digging his feet into the earth to steady him a little more, Sephiroth takes pleasure in the way it makes the bones in his wrist shake.
His grip tightens on Masamune, and he lunges low, to meet him with an equally low swipe. He’s smiling now, still faint but not insincere.]
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no subject
Sephiroth.
[Another strike, meant to push away. He makes a leap back, putting ample space between them with minimal effort.]
I appreciate your enthusiasm.
no subject
And I yours. It's somewhat refreshing.
[he adjusts his position from where he's fallen back, eyes bright, and his next lunge forward is the speed he's used to, drawing on the power of the tattoo. the energy fuels him, makes him fast - he's stopped playing, it seems, if not intending to kill. only to judge where his opponent stands.]
no subject
The sudden uptick in speed is more than human, more than the slow ease that he must usually force himself into when he fights against others. It’s more interesting this way, like fighting another SOLDIER than just a civilian with a sword, and even when he meets each strike with a parry, digging his feet into the earth to steady him a little more, Sephiroth takes pleasure in the way it makes the bones in his wrist shake.
His grip tightens on Masamune, and he lunges low, to meet him with an equally low swipe. He’s smiling now, still faint but not insincere.]
Holding back? There’s no need.