Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7 > You Speak of Angels
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You Speak of Angels
Fallen.
That is what you call me.
Your beautiful, one-winged, fallen angel.
You look at the single ebony-plumed symbol of my dark glory, and call me a denizen of heaven, fallen from grace.
You speak of Angels as if I should miss such splendor, as if my Falling were some romantic tragedy.
You speak of me as if I were something less than I once was.
How blind you are.
What is there in that 'Heaven' from which I fell that I should miss?
Endless days with other hosts just as Heavenly, where none could outshine the other?
What Heaven was that to restrict me, restrain me, clip these wings at the very first sight of their unfurling?
I'll serve no Heaven that fears me for outgrowing it.
Should I perhaps miss the 'loving' embrace of one greater than I?
What 'loving father' keeps his child caged so?
Do you honestly think I would miss such limitation, such strict delineation?
An eagle cannot be happy scratching in the dirt with fowl.
I have chosen my own way.
They call it 'Falling', that I leapt for my own glory, and am no longer theirs.
I am hardly 'fallen'.
These wings, this fury, this black shadow on my shoulder, these are the instruments of my grandeur.
I am risen far above what I once was, far above them, far, far above you.
Yet you speak of me as if I need 'saving'.
You offer me 'redemption'.
You give me your blind adoration and that selfishness cloaked in pity that you call 'love'.
Lies, horseshit, all of it, and laughable, besides.
What you call insanity is a liberation you fear to embrace.
The redemption you offer is nothing but a step back to horrors I have seen before.
Your adoration is but cheap affection.
And your love is a deceptive thing, a wish to cover yourself in my greatness in disguise.
What need have I of one as weak as you?
You speak of Angels with the hope that I would wear the tarnished halo you offer.
I have no wish to be your Angel in a Heaven that could not hold me.
I go to create a new Paradise, one of my own design.
I will be no mere Angel, when I can be a God.
END
A/N: This was a spur-of-the-moment one-shot. Who Sephiroth is lashing out against - Aeris? Cloud? Hordes of fangirls? - is entirely up to you.
You Speak of Angels
Fallen.
That is what you call me.
Your beautiful, one-winged, fallen angel.
You look at the single ebony-plumed symbol of my dark glory, and call me a denizen of heaven, fallen from grace.
You speak of Angels as if I should miss such splendor, as if my Falling were some romantic tragedy.
You speak of me as if I were something less than I once was.
How blind you are.
What is there in that 'Heaven' from which I fell that I should miss?
Endless days with other hosts just as Heavenly, where none could outshine the other?
What Heaven was that to restrict me, restrain me, clip these wings at the very first sight of their unfurling?
I'll serve no Heaven that fears me for outgrowing it.
Should I perhaps miss the 'loving' embrace of one greater than I?
What 'loving father' keeps his child caged so?
Do you honestly think I would miss such limitation, such strict delineation?
An eagle cannot be happy scratching in the dirt with fowl.
I have chosen my own way.
They call it 'Falling', that I leapt for my own glory, and am no longer theirs.
I am hardly 'fallen'.
These wings, this fury, this black shadow on my shoulder, these are the instruments of my grandeur.
I am risen far above what I once was, far above them, far, far above you.
Yet you speak of me as if I need 'saving'.
You offer me 'redemption'.
You give me your blind adoration and that selfishness cloaked in pity that you call 'love'.
Lies, horseshit, all of it, and laughable, besides.
What you call insanity is a liberation you fear to embrace.
The redemption you offer is nothing but a step back to horrors I have seen before.
Your adoration is but cheap affection.
And your love is a deceptive thing, a wish to cover yourself in my greatness in disguise.
What need have I of one as weak as you?
You speak of Angels with the hope that I would wear the tarnished halo you offer.
I have no wish to be your Angel in a Heaven that could not hold me.
I go to create a new Paradise, one of my own design.
I will be no mere Angel, when I can be a God.
END
A/N: This was a spur-of-the-moment one-shot. Who Sephiroth is lashing out against - Aeris? Cloud? Hordes of fangirls? - is entirely up to you.
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