One person encounters the grace and uncompromising force of Sephiroth one moonlit night. Rather random.
By Cat Alex
Long moonlight hair sways softly in the breeze,
Glinting at every turn like his sword so expertly wielded,
His pale form sinks into the shadows,
Only the glow of jade cats-eyes returns her apprehensive look,
Looking back with little interest or understanding of what she is.
He strikes and she falls gracelessly to the dirt,
A midnight gazelle paralysed with fear and pain.
He steps from the darkness like a flawless nightmare incarnate,
Tawny light hinting his features as the dawn makes itself known to world.
He surveys his work neither displeased nor satisfied,
His lengthy blade shimmering in the dawn rays with crimson taint.
There is a pause in her dying mind as this beautiful creature departs,
The sword that severed her life from her body tainted by her blood.
Tears slipping wordlessly down her face,
And praises the sun as it hits her,
Palms up and toward the sun,
She looks toward his departing figure,
And wishes she had seen him in day,
And not in the murky night.