animus_network | [Video/Action] Bittersweet the Bonds of the Heart

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[Video/Action] Bittersweet the Bonds of the Heart

[Losing Mami, who he viewed as an adopted daughter, last month had been hard, but Diarmuid had worked his way through his grief by focusing on the happy times they had spent together. However, when three more people he is close to are sent home--two of which he cares for like his own children--those happy memories become a source of pain instead of a route passed the grief.

When he appears on the Network, Diarmuid looks more lost and empty than he has in a long time.]

Usually, when I address everyone, I am asking for help on a project that will benefit the whole Tower. Today, I am asking for help on a more personal level.

How does one handle losing a child? Not just one, but several over a short period of time? Nothing I try seems to work, and I am...

[His voice trails off here, shaking and uncertain. A short time later, the feed ends.]

Action:

[After making his post, Diarmuid can be found wandering the Tower almost as if he hopes one of the floors might give him the answers he seeks. There are some specific prompts below, but feel free to find him elsewhere.]

Room 4-16:

[A handmade wooden box sits on the bed next to Diarmuid. Once it held chocolates, now it holds letters. Several written in a childish hand are sitting on the top, but what Diarmuid is looking at is a pair of drawings that are usually set up near his bed on the nightstand.

He's not crying... He's not...]

Floor 48 (The Graveyard):

[Rabbit would probably scold Diarmuid for singing what is suppose to be a funny song in such a sad voice, but it's hard to be happy when he is singing the song alone to the gravestone of the person who was suppose to be singing it with him. He and Yotsuba had promised to get together to sing Rabbit's songs as a way of honoring their friend's memory...

Now that is never going to happen in any way other than this.]

Floor 3 (The Library):

[There is ink smudged on his cheek and his arm, but Diarmuid doesn't notice. On the surface, he's focused on printing more copies of the Tower Guide to put out for those who might want them, but really he's in the Library for a very different reason. Tohko was always here and it's like he feels spending time here will help him find her again--find that cheerful voice who had so often redirected him when he didn't know what to do next. He almost expects to look up and see her there, smiling and ready to offer her help with what he's working on.

Unfortunately, no matter how long he waits, that will not happen.]

Floor 28 (The Music Room):

[Before even his brother, Labrys had been the first family Diarmuid had in this place. Their bond created during the January experiment, afterward they had talked about learning to play an instrument together, but life in the Tower and his indecisiveness had kept them from doing so. Now, as his hands run over the piano he had once heard her picking a tune out on, the sound of his grief blocks any music the instrument might make.

How is it that one who once lived his life with no regrets has so many of them now?]

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[Diarmuid feels the cold stare before anything else. He hasn't run into the man since the big meeting that set off the collar fluid research and to be honest, not seeing him has been a good thing. While he hasn't acted to make Sephiroth pay for what he did to Yukiko and Ryoji, that doesn't mean the event has slipped his mind. Far from it. However, in the interests of making sure the collar fluid research goes and quickly and smoothly as possible, Diarmuid has taken Waver's 'truce' with Sephiroth seriously. Not having seen the man has just made doing that all that much easier.

He takes a deep breath, wishes for a bit of that unending patience Tohko always showed people, and then looks up to meet Sephiroth's eyes. While his expression is schooled fairly well into blankness, it is obvious that he is tired. More importantly, there is just something...off in his eyes.]

Do you need to use the press?

[It's been also in Sephiroth's interests to remain out of the sight of too many. The Admins don't only have their own surveillance equipment at their disposal after all. Not that Sephiroth is drawn very often to the more public floors of the 1st Block. Except for network-surveillance - like today.

Sephiroth picks up on possible tiredness in Diarmuid fairly quickly, though not without more than a few flicks of his gaze over the other mans' face. That other 'something off' though - Sephiroth either doesn't care or cannot care.]

No, but- [He smirks a little, making a single-fingered motion to his cheek] The ink doesn't suit you.

Ink?

[The question is confused, though what Sephiroth means is better explained when Diarmuid reaches up to rub at his cheek and his fingers come away covered with ink. However, the rubbing has done little to remove the ink from his face. In fact, it has just managed to widen the smudge.

Diarmuid doesn't seem too upset by this, though, and just shrugs.]

I have more important things to worry about besides a bit of ink. My apologies if it offends your eyes so much. Speaking of important things, if you don't need the press, aren't there more important things you can be doing? Things that don't involve killing or hurting innocent people?

[Of course, he means the collar fluid research. After all, what else could someone like Sephiroth have to do that doesn't involve hurting others? It's hard for Diarmuid to imagine anything.]

[Wow, Waver's pet sure seems prickly today. Sephiroth might have chuckled at the way he managed to smudge the ink on his face so it was even more of a stain than it had been to start with, but Diarmuid doesn't seem all that bothered so such a gesture would be pointless.]

Touche. [The smirk drops into a thin line.] I'm keeping myself occupied enough, not that it's any of your concern.

I'm fairly sure you have more to be doing than sleeping on a printing press, either.

I wasn't sleeping on the printing press.

[Geez, a guy puts his head down for a moment and everyone thinks he's sleeping.]

Besides, you talk as if what I am doing isn't important. I'm working to help others here in the Tower. That is the most important thing I can do. Not that someone like you would be able to understand that. I doubt you have ever helped anyone but yourself.

[Diarmuid doesn't think for a moment that Sephiroth's involvement in the collar fluid research is anything but selfish. It's why he's so sure that given the chance Sephiroth will hide anything he manages to find out.]

[Whatever you say, Dia. Sephiroth is not convinced. His somewhat light expression darkens a little more at the continued comments.]

I wouldn't be so quick to judge my character. Helping people is entirely my intention-

[-helping them to learn to respect his superior mind and existence, in fact. And those that do not understand, cannot comprehend, will do once his project is brought to fruition. He does keep his own notes, his own plans and does his own studying for a reason - outside of the collar fluid 'team'.]

-though I wonder what good it all is, if they themselves are so blind to understanding.

Just because they choose not to understand the thought processes of a murderer, doesn't make them blind.

[Diarmuid raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Sephiroth.]

Want them to understand you? Try to stop treating everyone like they are so far beneath you. I have no idea who you are on your world and I really don't care. Here you are the same as the rest of us. A soul trapped in a wire-frame and gel body.

[A wicked laugh slips from Diarmuid's throat.]

A reused body nonetheless. For all you know, the head you now use might have been mine. I did once lose my head here, after all...

My aren't we so bold with our choice of words today.

[Murderer, really. What weight that carried in a Tower where death was a temporary inconvenience is really beyond him. It's not as if Sephiroth kills indiscriminately for no reason. He's just more willing to than most.]

Don't be so ignorant, it doesn't suit you much either. [Sephiroth is completely unphased by the wicked laugh.] The conditions of our existence here are fairly well-known now and I don't dispute that fact.

But that does not make us all the same.

I have had enough happen to me recently that I don't much feel like being polite. Especially in such impolite company.

[Diarmuid begins shifting a few things around the press, closing it down so that he can leave the library as soon as this conversation is done. For some reason, monster hunting is starting to sound more and more like a good idea no matter if his mind is actually in the right state for it.

He pauses however, as Sephiroth continues speaking, looking up at the man throw narrowed eyes.]

One who is ignorant himself shouldn't comment on it in others. If you truly believe your soul is more important than any other in this place, you are even more of a fool than I first thought. How cold and lonely your life must be since you will not allow yourself to see the value of those around you.

No wonder you have yet to succeed...

[It's a shot in the dark. Diarmuid doesn't know much about Sephiroth or his world, but he can't help but feel that Sephiroth's constant need to place himself above everyone is an effort to hide a failure or something he feels is missing in himself. He is either completely wrong or he just might hit a nerve.]

Quite on the contrary.

[Sephiroth's voice is a very rigid, controlled, but mostly flat tone. Diarmuid did hit a nerve of sorts but he's not about to let the other man know that he's grazed anything close to the truth.

Not so much hiding a failure, more the constant concern that he has become one and that's why he cannot break out of this imprisonment. As for 'missing' something - Sephiroth will never be prepared to admit to himself that parts of him discarded are of any consequence.

That would be a failure indeed.]

I take well note of the value in the souls of others around me, to a level that someone like you will never be able to comprehend.

[And then he moved. Sephiroth looks to approach Diarmuid but then feigns -almost too quick to follow- to one side, sweeping a foot around to connect booted leg with the back of Diarmuid's]

[The only reason Sephiroth's foot actually connects is because Diarmuid's ability to dodge is hampered by the printing press and some nearby bookshelves. He throws himself backwards when he realizes what is going on to lessen the blow. This also distances him from the other man and gives him time to call Gae Dearg to hand. However, he doesn't complete the summon. In the cluttered area that is the library, his trusted spear's reach will only be a hindrance. Instead, he pulls the smaller of his two swords free of its sheath and falls into a ready stance.

While Sephiroth's voice has not given anything away, the man's actions have. Why attack if Diarmuid hasn't hit just a little too close to the truth with his words?]

Do you? Are you trying that hard to find that which you lack? Is that the real reason you force yourself to see us as lesser beings? We have things you don't and if you admit to lacking those things, then you admit to being a failure?

[Diarmuid doubts that is actually the case, but he doesn't say it because he believes it. Instead, he is trying to pin down exactly what it is about his previous words that bothers Sephiroth. Whatever it is, it is a weakness--something that makes the man uneasy--and that is exactly the kind of thing Diarmuid needs to know to find a way to make Sephiroth pay for what he did to Ryoji.

He used Ryoji's weaknesses against him. It is only fitting Sephiroth's weaknesses are used in a similar manner to bring him down.]

Not even close.

[He pretty much growls at Diarmuid as the leg-sweep is stepped back and away from. Sephiroth makes a gesture as if ready to summon Masamune to his grip but at the last moment -with a bristle of power between them- he retracts that action. He would be at as great a disadvantage with Masaume as Dia would be with his prized weapon of choice.

Unless he wanted to carve the bookshelves to pieces - but Sephiroth has more sense than that. Drawing Administrative attention to himself isn't something that would work in his favor right now. It was however, time for a smart-mouthed puppy to be taught a lesson or two. He too, steps back into a ready stance, though being unarmed may indeed give the impression that his opponent would have the upper hand.]

I lack nothing that I regret giving up.

[Sephiroth waits a couple more beats before feigning an advance that could well have been an attack, he swept in a side-step at the end of the motion and pushed at Diarmuid's back, using the momentum to get the other man past him some before grabbing for the other of his swords.]

[Diarmuid tenses when he feels that burst of power. He knows from speaking with the younger Sephiroth that the elder will have access to magic that he cannot affect with Gae Dearg's power even if he chooses to use the weapon. That is why he is relieved when Sephiroth decides to not finish whatever magic or summoning he starts.

Of course, Diarmuid knows better than to let his guard down for any length of time around this man. That is why the side-step and the attack at his back don't surprised him at all. Indeed, it's a move set Diarmuid would have used given the chance. However, Sephiroth will have to try harder than that if he wishes to 'borrow' one of Diarmuid's weapons. The moment Diarmuid senses Sephiroth's attack, he drops forward into a somersault to again put distance between them.]

A fool's answer considering how opposite it is from what your actions say.

[A frown crosses his face when he realizes that his somersault has left him in a less than idea location. His only options for movement because of a table and the printing press are forward toward Sephiroth again and the off to the right. However, off to the right, not far away, is a chair blocking further progress.

He curses under his breath and then dashes forward hoping the sudden rush will surprise the man enough to let him get by and into a more open area of the Library.]

[An arm swings up and around Diarmuid and Sephiroth turns at the end of the motion to face his opponent as he somersaulted away. Quickly taking stock of the position Diarmuid has put himself in; he can't see the chair blocking the way off to the right from his position but that frown speaks volumes. A dark, slight smile creases his features.]

You should know better than to presume to know me.

[Sephiroth is watching Diarmuid too attentively not to notice the sudden dash forwards and he also dashes forwards to meet the man. Swinging an arm as if to make a punch for his head but then instead twists and drives a heavy fist up into torso. Intending to wind, and if he's lucky, crack a few ribs in the process.]

You're right. The day I understand how you think, is the day I will have to seriously start worrying about my own state of mind.

[Diarmuid twists at the last moment to avoid the punch, though he cannot avoid it all and winces slightly when it connects with much more force than he anticipated. It is probably only because of his high resistance as a Servant that he avoids cracked or even broken ribs. They will, however, be quite bruised for a while.

Though, being so close to Sephiroth does have it's advantages and as he is spinning away, Diarmuid swings his sword toward the back of Sephiroth's head. Normally, he would spin the hilt out so that is what connects with his enemy's head, but this is Sephiroth, an enemy for which Diarmuid feels no mercy.

He gets no less than the blade.]

Then you had better start to worry.

[Not that he wanted to hint that Diarmuid was in any way right in his assumptions, but destabilizing an opponents own mental rigidity is as key. At that last second Sephiroth spots a flash of metal coming in he both tries again to wrench the other sword free from his opponents sheath and jolts away out of the worst of the bladed strike. The edge sings past the backside of an ear as he ducks his head away and puts distance between them again.

Though it's not without some result, more than a few strands of silver hair drop to the floor in his wake. Diarmuid has succeeded in chopping quite a noticeable chunk out of the hair by Sephiroth's ear. He'd heard the distinct shear of it so close to his head, but right now he has more pressing concerns; though he's clearly unimpressed.

Sword obtained or not, Sephiroth next extends a hand out towards Diarmuid and issues a wave of telekinesis powerfully out at Diarmuid - hoping to push the Servant back into the nearest bookcase.]

[An angry hiss slips from Diarmuid's mouth when his blade comes so close only to miss. Perhaps others would be happy to have come so close to hitting. All Diarmuid can think of is that he had missed by so much.

And then he realizes Sephiroth managed to pull his other sword free of the sheath. One of the swords Waver had made for him. The larger of the two. The one made in Moralltach's image. The sword that hadn't ever betrayed him. Seeing it in the hands of one such as Sephiroth enrages him.

It really is a much more affective method for destabilizing Diarmuid's mental state than any taunt would be.]

Give it back to me! I will not have it--

[His words are cut off as the telekinetic wave hits him and tosses him into the bookshelf. The bookshelf snaps as he hits it, books tumbling down around him. A rather heavy book strikes him on the head stunning him for a moment.]

[Crash

Perfect.

The silver haired warrior uses the pause to adjust his grip slightly on the sword he's managed to obtain from Diarmuid's own sheath. It certainly doesn't have the weight of his own for sure, but it will do for this sort of range. The exclamation from the Servant upon his taking it as well brings back the hint of a smirk to Sephiroth's face as he strides forwards to deliver the attack.

He slices first for the arm which bears Diarmuid's own sword, and then expertly twists the blade up and aims a diagonal slash downwards across the rest of his opponents body - before retreating back in his stance to survey his handiwork.]

[It's fortunate for Diarmuid that he knows the sizes of his swords and their swing arcs so well, since he is still a little hazy when Sephiroth comes in for his attack. It is only that knowledge that keeps him from being wounded. He brings up his own weapon, blocking the swing of the other and sliding the shorter blade down the longer to keep it from cutting him along any part of the swing.

Blood drips down the side of his face from where the book struck him, but thankfully, Diarmuid is able to shake off the last of the haziness very quickly as he gets to his feet after Sephiroth steps back.]

Give me back my blade or so help me...

[It is a childish threat, but he has no intention of letting Sephiroth walk out of here with something that means so much to him.]

[Impressive defense maneuvers aside Sephiroth now quite clearly has something that Diarmuid cherishes in his hands. Or rather, hand. He turns the sword around in his grip a little as the Servant gets to his feet - getting much more attuned to the balance of it in the meantime.]

So help you? That almost sounds like a threat-

[He swings the sword up and around, striking nothing but the air with it almost as if imagining slicing something to pieces. Then steps further away from Diarmuid and eyes the printing press.]

-that's not like you.

[From what he learned from his time in Ryoji's mind, that is. Sephiroth steps back towards the press and, keeping an eye on Diarmuid at all times, smirks lightly before opening it up to it's fullest. He places the sword in between the two plates and then reaches up, fingering at the handle to the top-plate.]

It's all not real, of course. Just film.

[Diarmuid's eyes narrow, the sick feeling in his stomach just growing stronger the longer that Waver's gift to him remains in Sephiroth's hands.]

Yes, you tend to bring out the worst in me for some reason...

[It's frighteningly easy for Sephiroth to do it too. Even more frightening to Diarmuid, though, is how his anger at Sephiroth makes him not care that he's not being himself and not care that he's slipping so far into the rage and hate inside of him.

What if he loses his way back out or worse, what if he just decides he doesn't want to come back out?]

Not that someone like you has any right to judge me.

[His eyes warily follow Sephiroth as the man moves toward the press.]

If it is just film, then it won't matter if you give it back to me, will it? Not that someone like you would under-- What are you doing?

[It takes Diarmuid a moment to realize what Sephiroth intends to do, but when he does, he sees red and what little control he has over his emotions starts to slip from his grasp. Not only will shutting the press on the sword likely damage or ruin the blade, it will also damage the press itself.

He can't let that happen. Not when the press has been so useful to so many people and not when that sword means so much to him.

Even if it is just film.

Despite fury in his eyes--in fact, if Sephiroth is watching closely enough, he might notice those eyes shift just slightly almost as if something is trying to force its way out--and the roaring in his ears, Diarmuid is completely silent as he launches himself at Sephiroth. He is not thinking, merely reacting on emotion and instinct, but while that kind of attack might work well for a fighter like Cu Chulainn, it does not work so well for Diarmuid himself. He executes five sword strikes at Sephiroth, all in the blink of an eye, but in doing so he leaves himself wide open for retaliation should the strikes not land.

This is a mistake he would normally not make in his right mind, but at the moment the combination of his recent losses and his hatred for Sephiroth means Diarmuid's right mind is very far away from this battle.]

You should practice what you preach, with regards to judgment.

[Indeed Sephiroth locks his blazing green eyes with Diarmuid's even as he curls his fingers around that top handle-

He thought he saw something of a shift within his opponents eyes but the strikes were executed in the next instant. With similar speed Sephiroth's opposite hand rips the blade from the plate on which it rested, to defend against the flurry of attacks.

What follows is a swift turn into that wide-open gap in Diarmuid's offense. Charging a powerful knee with extra-momentum spurned by Sephiroth's will itself, up deeply into Diarmuid's torso. And then brings the pommel of Diarmuid's own sword down onto the back of his head while hunched over before driving him into the plate on which the sword was rested before.]

You shouldn't let your emotions ride you so completely.

[Sephiroth steps around and then brings the top plate of the press slamming down on top of him. He's not intending to crush the Servant but at the very least it did succeed in knocking him unconscious. A few more, kicks follow to the rib-section of his opponent, pinned as he is between the plates, before Sephiroth steps away.

Striding away from the machine, Diarmuid's stolen sword is still in his hand. He would keep hold of this for now, better to gain an upper hand in dealing with Diarmuid in the future.]

Edited 2013-11-10 18:00 (UTC)

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[Video/Action] Bittersweet the Bonds of the Heart

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

Floor 3 (The Library)

We wanted some small tussle with an injury right?

Indeed! Anything he can either have healed or heal in a few days is okay.

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