::An unsettling calm, nearly suffocating in it's thickness blanketed the area as Sephiroth appeared from a rift in the clouds, approaching earth in a slow, controlled descent on a single sable wing which was held poised to the side, and did not move. One winged angel in all his glory... or was it a mere breath of a line away from shame?... Soles of platform ShinRa issued boots were the first things to touch the ground, and he carried his weight with grace, light and yes, even elegant on his feet, moving with a fluidity that defied the characterization of soldier that supposedly defined him. Impossibly flawless silver locks framed his face, which was softly featured, the curious bangs arching up, over, outwards, and down from his brow; Upon first glance he had an almost innocent look to him, eerily beautiful glowing emerald Mako twins possessing an uncanny intelligence grabbed the attention of all around him, their air so haunted, tormented, and dire. Eyes that had witnessed far too many tragedies in their lifetime, the majority of which had been directed at him. Was this cause for the occasional dip into insanity? No, hardly so... a reasonable excuse did not exist. What drove him, pushed him onwards, forwards, held him back... the motivations of the soldier might never be uncovered fully. Enshrouded in mystery, cryptic, complex and enigmatic, all of these were understatements, this much was painfully apparent to anyone close enough to see through the wall he kept up, role he played, facade he maintained in order to preserve a scant amount of privacy for himself. True that he suffered greatly, but he much preferred to do such things, live in his own personal hell, in secret, and so allowed the masses to see only what they expected for the most part... The one person he allowed in, unbeknownst to her, was in and of herself more than enough to save him from his demons, faults, flaws... in short, himself, if he let her... if... but too frightened of things unknown that lied with the letting of trust, he disclosed only a portion of his true self to his partner. A few sure steps taken, the armored suit, one of a kind, reeked of power, and seemed to betray his origins as being not human in the very slightest bit. He was a bit too perfect, striking, strong; this man was no mere mortal being, nor had he been created by normal means. The black armor was cut as to emphasize his physical perfection, the chest gave view to rippling pectorals, and below that, a hidden washboard stomach beneath the medallion and clasp of his cape. In his left hand, a massive seven foot sword, yes, longer than he was tall, by a foot, this Masamune something that only he could wield. A better companion there might never be found for him... the katana had existed with him, seemingly, forever; ever faithful, valiant, and true, and they moved together as if one joined being, something out of a dream. Able to cut people down, snuff out their lives virtually without an effort or conscience, he was in every way the perfect soldier he had been made to be. Strong, eerie, a vision... yes, he was all of that, but will that be all you see?::