Suits him? Reno's not so sure. Maybe. The circumstances of how it came about don't thrill him, that's for sure. It wasn't his finest moment. If he's going to be run through and murdered dramatically in the middle of a party he initiated and hosted, it should be for a good reason, shouldn't it? Not that he quite literally flirted with danger and got the wrong kind of "impaled." Then again, it is stupidly fitting. Much as he wants to go in an absolutely spectacular blaze of glory, fiery and explosive and all-consuming, he'd never be so lucky, would he.
On the other hand, there's not a lot of folks walking around out there who've been cut down by Sephiroth and came back to spit in his face about it. If nothing else, it speaks to some odd quirk about him he's never really addressed, which is that he's always wanted to know what it would feel like to be one of his own victims, and now he knows. A katana through the lung isn't how he would execute someone, personally, but an ostentatious scar that says he crossed that bridge, burned it down, and still managed to forge a way back isn't something to stick your nose up at. He still remembers how perfectly fucking satisfying it was to strike before Sephiroth could, to hit him with explosive force and watch his eyes go wide and glassy for all of a half-second as he was stunned, then struck him again just for good measure... that felt good. What he wouldn't give, god, to have tracked him down after Tseng had had his way with him, when he was weak and bloody and vulnerable— give him more than just a shock this time— wrench his jaw open and force his baton down his throat and blow the amps with a Thundaga equipped for some extra juice—
His eyes refocus on Tseng's again as he's pulled in. Oh, he's really into this. That's good, because no one else really has been. Rufus saw it, but they didn't discuss it. Rude he couldn't bear to tell, knowing he was too raw about it. No one else he's felt like sharing anything with, let alone the details of what it felt like. But Tseng, it's different. "He stabbed me in the back. It went through my lung and twisted when it came out. He wanted it to be slow and painful, punitive, more insult than injury. I choked to death on my blood. It was a few minutes..." He lost track of time trying to report in. And then looking for Rude, god, that was the part he couldn't bear. He needed Rude. It's the only part of death he couldn't ever stand to face, not having Rude go down with him. If he could've at least been there to see him off, the last thing he ever thought he'd lay eyes on again, that would've been at least something. Reno considers, and then decides to tell Tseng that. "I wanted to see Rude. Besides that, it didn't hurt. It was like being held underwater, once my lungs filled up. Y'know, when the blood starts comin' outta every other orifice instead... that part was great."
No, really. It was great. The pain wasn't an issue, the suffocating wasn't an issue. It was just facing his worst fear in the world that he couldn't handle, after the worst had come. He would've been so much more fascinated. He would've thought so much harder on more pertinent things. He's bitter about dying that way, and it shows on his face. He doesn't care if Tseng can tell; in fact, he'd rather that he did. He'd rather Tseng know that even though the murder itself was a transformative experience, he is unbelievably fucking raw about it and wants nothing more than to unleash hell for it. The thought comes to him in the form of words that he murmurs darkly, almost as if to himself, instead. "Dying afraid, like that... it's not enough anymore. I think I've seen the light."
He will do so much worse to so many others from now on.
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On the other hand, there's not a lot of folks walking around out there who've been cut down by Sephiroth and came back to spit in his face about it. If nothing else, it speaks to some odd quirk about him he's never really addressed, which is that he's always wanted to know what it would feel like to be one of his own victims, and now he knows. A katana through the lung isn't how he would execute someone, personally, but an ostentatious scar that says he crossed that bridge, burned it down, and still managed to forge a way back isn't something to stick your nose up at. He still remembers how perfectly fucking satisfying it was to strike before Sephiroth could, to hit him with explosive force and watch his eyes go wide and glassy for all of a half-second as he was stunned, then struck him again just for good measure... that felt good. What he wouldn't give, god, to have tracked him down after Tseng had had his way with him, when he was weak and bloody and vulnerable— give him more than just a shock this time— wrench his jaw open and force his baton down his throat and blow the amps with a Thundaga equipped for some extra juice—
His eyes refocus on Tseng's again as he's pulled in. Oh, he's really into this. That's good, because no one else really has been. Rufus saw it, but they didn't discuss it. Rude he couldn't bear to tell, knowing he was too raw about it. No one else he's felt like sharing anything with, let alone the details of what it felt like. But Tseng, it's different. "He stabbed me in the back. It went through my lung and twisted when it came out. He wanted it to be slow and painful, punitive, more insult than injury. I choked to death on my blood. It was a few minutes..." He lost track of time trying to report in. And then looking for Rude, god, that was the part he couldn't bear. He needed Rude. It's the only part of death he couldn't ever stand to face, not having Rude go down with him. If he could've at least been there to see him off, the last thing he ever thought he'd lay eyes on again, that would've been at least something. Reno considers, and then decides to tell Tseng that. "I wanted to see Rude. Besides that, it didn't hurt. It was like being held underwater, once my lungs filled up. Y'know, when the blood starts comin' outta every other orifice instead... that part was great."
No, really. It was great. The pain wasn't an issue, the suffocating wasn't an issue. It was just facing his worst fear in the world that he couldn't handle, after the worst had come. He would've been so much more fascinated. He would've thought so much harder on more pertinent things. He's bitter about dying that way, and it shows on his face. He doesn't care if Tseng can tell; in fact, he'd rather that he did. He'd rather Tseng know that even though the murder itself was a transformative experience, he is unbelievably fucking raw about it and wants nothing more than to unleash hell for it. The thought comes to him in the form of words that he murmurs darkly, almost as if to himself, instead. "Dying afraid, like that... it's not enough anymore. I think I've seen the light."
He will do so much worse to so many others from now on.