Fiend [Final Fantasy VII, Vincent/Sephiroth] Title: Fiend Author:shimyaku Fandom: FFVII Pairing/characters: Vincent/Sephiroth Rating: PG Warnings: none Word count: ~430 Prompt: Vincent and Sephiroth, first impressions A/N: From Vincent's pov.
It was his eyes I saw first - that eerie, radiating green was indeed hard to miss. They drew one's eyes to them like a sparkling beacon, those toxic spheres filled with danger and pain. No other on the Planet had a look remotely like that - unique as much as it was terrifying. I have gazed back at many a cold, hardened stare in my time, but never one with quite the sharp chill of Hell that his possessed.
However, it was the rest of his face, or maybe his face as a whole, that startled me most. The defined curve of high cheekbones, and the smooth slope of his nose... It seemed to be a face I already knew intimately, though I'd never seen it in the flesh previous to this; it's edges were lines I felt I had traced before, a mould that my fingers felt so familiar with and they itched to reach out and prove to me it was so.
As for his lips, their shape, they appeared as most familiar of all. I knew their softness and their distinct full shape already, and how such a mouth felt against my own. The thought sprung from a memory from a time I didn't care to remember, somewhere deeply submerged in the past. I would have attempted to rebury it in that same moment too, had I figured it might prove effective, but the longer I stood looking - or staring to be more precise - the more recollections that seemed to appear in my mind, and the more overwhelming the remembrance of them became.
I sensed that he was staring unblinkingly just as I was, although somehow more intensely, as if he could see the actual thoughts drifting through my mind; my poker face might be as straight as they come, but I suppose if any could read it, it would be him. And as he stepped gracefully toward me with a searching look, I noticed the slightest tremble of his hand, as if he had been about to raise it but decided the better of it. I watched as he studied my features in turn, analysing them just as I had been doing, and in his eyes I recognised the briefest flicker of something akin to triumph, before a wave of what I deemed to be acknowledgement and determination rolled over his expression.
"Maybe he was lying to himself, too," he stated cryptically, though I understood every word, "But I always knew I was never borne of a fiend such as him."