how you do it
Title: how you do it
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit gained. This is a fanwork.
Summary: An incorrect reputation.
Notes: For Natasha who asked for a 'severely shy' Sephiroth. He turned out a little more anti-social than shy, but I really, really tried!
Another night over; another day done... And he'd made it through yet another stupid and unnecessary dinner-soiree, the sort of thing he just didn't know how to handle. He didn't speak much at events like that, preferring to stay to the side and let those who knew how and cared to schmooze do what they were best at.
It was a bit laughable, the reputation it gained for him - standoffish and cool, beautiful and icy, the sort of man best stared at and too intimidating to approach. All for the better, really, Sephiroth thought, since he didn't know what to say to any of those people. When they asked about his day, did they really want to know about hours of pain, of needles, of anguish? One word answers, feigned boredom, sneaking away knowing he was fully visible but only wanting to hide in the shadows...
Somehow no one had noticed that the little boy who'd been too quickly forced into a powerful man had never quite gotten past wanting to hide behind his nurse's legs, away from everything and in a place where just maybe he wouldn't be noticed for once.
'This is how you do it' never quite registered with him, especially when it came to large groups of people. His soldiers, his units he could handle - they were pawns to be moved about the board. But other generals and their wives and daughters (and sons) were something different altogether. He knew not how to engage in small talk nor did he care.
Be polite, then excuse himself... Find a place without words, without people asking for photos and notes, a place where his reputation did not preceed him...
Sinking onto the low, not-as-comfortable-as-it-could-be sofa that sat in the center of his freakishly sterile apartment, Sephiroth couldn't find himself to be bothered to even strip away his suit. Some of their comments tonight had been so funny in a twisted way - showing just how much attention people paid to who he actually was...
Just a puppet himself, perhaps, being led. But he was a skilled fighter, a good commander... That was his place and he knew nothing else... And likely no one would ever notice that he didn't think himself better than anyone -- he was afraid of the consequences of breaking his delecate facade.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!