Miasma

Chapter 5

The funeral was a week later.

Genesis didn't go, he figured there wasn't much of a point. He and Circinae had already said their goodbyes, and he wanted his memories of her to consist of recollections of when she was alive. He didn't need the mental picture of looking down at her lifeless body in a coffin. Truthfully, he didn't understand why viewings were a thing at all. The concept of staring at a corpse was foreign to him...macabre in its entirety. All personal misgivings aside, he didn't receive an invitation; and that was usually a solid communication that he should stay away...especially in terms of his father. He wasn't entirely sure he'd have been able to restrain himself from wringing his adoptive sire's neck, so he was happily absent. Of course his heart-in a fit of rampant hypocrisy-insisted that he should be there, that he deserved to be there. Because his mother would have wanted him to be there. This was entirely untrue; Circinae had repeatedly insisted that she didn't want him anywhere near it, but that didn't stop him from trying to emotionally rationalize it. Which was had led him to where he was at the current moment.

Mainly, in Garter's and Gorgon's so fucking drunk he could barely see straight.

It was a piss-poor decision for him to have left HQ under any circumstances, but he couldn't stand being around Angeal's righteous and honor-bound attitude anymore. Realistically, he should have been happy his best friend was back, and that they had both been coordinated to stay at Headquarters at the same time...but he wasn't. Because Angeal was hell-bent on comforting him in any way possible and he just couldn't stand it anymore. Genesis knew he meant well, and that he wanted to help, but long-winded diatribes regarding how they would 'honor her memory by remembering the value of self-sacrifice' made him want to kill everyone in the building. So he left, and he surprisingly got rather far. He still had a tail-obviously, Shinra was letting his leash out, not letting him free-range-but it was a discreet tail and he was sincerely thankful for it.

Taking a long sip of whatever the hell he'd ordered, the redhead watched as the bass quartet on the gaudy stage switched to a more mellow number. Blue, yellow, green and purple paint shimmered iridescently against the lacquered wood of their instruments, hiding the resin on their bows under dark wood and thrumming stanzas. Feathers of similar color hung in knotted hemp bangles down the arc of scrolls; tuning pegs were carven ivory trinkets forming the shape of owls, turtles, and fish. The stage was somewhat upwards from everything else; framed by maroon velvet curtains with golden tassels...waxed mahogany flooring 'neath blazing lights and whatever performer made their place there. Tacky, yes...timeless, moreso. Not overly large like some of the larger clubs nearer to the center of the Plate. When he was younger, places like this were less of a haven and more of a curiosity...but he couldn't stand the press of the crowds anymore and he was more appreciative of the artistry than the carnality at this point.

It had been an exceedingly long time since he'd been anywhere for leisurely entertainment, and Genesis was surprised to find that he didn't enjoy it half as much as he used to. Maybe it was because every aspect of his life was extremely fucked up, but he was more inclined to blame it on his physicality. Angeal had once commented something poetically disgusting about the 'pleasures and leisures that fetter with age.' At the time he'd scoffed; because twenty-three year old Genesis Rhapsodos was immortal...or so he'd thought. Twenty-three year old Genesis Rhapsodos could run drills all day long and party the night away and fuck anyone who insisted otherwise. Twenty-three year old Genesis Rhapsodos was going to screw whoever he wanted and damn the consequences. Slamming down the remainder of his drink, the scarlet-haired man attempted to pour himself another from the bottle but gave it up for a lost cause and drank straight from the neck.

"You look like someone who could drown your sorrows in something more than the bottom of your glass."

Swiveling on his barstool with difficulty, Genesis swayed slightly and squinted as several tall figures before him wobbled together to become one figure. Fair-haired, muscular but not overly so, arresting eyes....nicely but not ridiculously dressed. Flaxen locks were tied back at the nape of a graceful alabaster neck; like an endless waterfall of concentrated, pale honey. Strong jawline, lush but not overly full lips under thick lashes and brows just a shade darker than the hair. The man before him was just his type..before Sephiroth anyway. Likely married but adventurous and not entirely secure in his sexual preferences. The kind who acted gracious and demure until they got you in the bedroom and then stripped you down so they could fuck you into next week. The kind who didn't ask questions and didn't leave phone numbers, the kind who weren't looking for anything but debauchery and a quick way to come in something tight, virile, and young. Chuckling, Genesis attempted to prop his chin on his elbows and ended up skidding them over the countertop with his cheek against the lacquered wood. He grinned nevertheless.