"What did the mirror whisper to you?" Sephiroth asks, and Angeal thinks of the mirror.
Thinks of the way it was gilded, too expensive and glimmering despite the gloom it hid in, and yet all the angles were straight. No deviance, no curves. Sharp plain lines. Like sunlight, the way it shined, sunlight inbetween the leaves of a Banora White, cutting through shadow. He'd been in shadow too, at least so the mirror showed, and yet his reflection had spoken, had gestured with too many hands.
Whispered Banoran at him, clear as if it were someone right at his ear.
Don't you want to see Ma again?
Ma, with her warm smile, and her steady hands, and a weight on her shoulders.
You died the first out of everyone. You abandoned everyone else. But you're alive again. Who else could be alive? What about Pa, too? It'd be like you never left Banora.
Pa, who'd grinned wide, who'd given him a sword, who'd said he'd go out and be the first Hewley to really help people, to hold onto a sense of honor. Why had he ever left him behind? What sword would have been worth that?
It could be home again.
It could be home again, and he could introduce everyone to his parents, could wake up to help his mother in the kitchen first thing in the morning, could stitch his father's hand up. He could have Seph at their table. Zack could talk with his mother properly. Him and Genesis could squeeze into the same bed he'd had since he was a kid, and...
It could be home again. And he wants it so bad that he could bite through his tongue for it, fill his mouth with blood.
He doesn't, and it doesn't.
"It tells you things too good to be true," he says instead, hand twitching as it thinks of how he'd grabbed the first thing he could wrap it around.
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Mirror
Thinks of the way it was gilded, too expensive and glimmering despite the gloom it hid in, and yet all the angles were straight. No deviance, no curves. Sharp plain lines. Like sunlight, the way it shined, sunlight inbetween the leaves of a Banora White, cutting through shadow. He'd been in shadow too, at least so the mirror showed, and yet his reflection had spoken, had gestured with too many hands.
Whispered Banoran at him, clear as if it were someone right at his ear.
Don't you want to see Ma again?
Ma, with her warm smile, and her steady hands, and a weight on her shoulders.
You died the first out of everyone. You abandoned everyone else. But you're alive again. Who else could be alive? What about Pa, too? It'd be like you never left Banora.
Pa, who'd grinned wide, who'd given him a sword, who'd said he'd go out and be the first Hewley to really help people, to hold onto a sense of honor. Why had he ever left him behind? What sword would have been worth that?
It could be home again.
It could be home again, and he could introduce everyone to his parents, could wake up to help his mother in the kitchen first thing in the morning, could stitch his father's hand up. He could have Seph at their table. Zack could talk with his mother properly. Him and Genesis could squeeze into the same bed he'd had since he was a kid, and...
It could be home again. And he wants it so bad that he could bite through his tongue for it, fill his mouth with blood.
He doesn't, and it doesn't.
"It tells you things too good to be true," he says instead, hand twitching as it thinks of how he'd grabbed the first thing he could wrap it around.
How that couldn't be home.