|And the temperature sinks . . .
||[Feb. 15th, 2005|04:11 pm]
I just passed Professor Hojo in the hallway on the sixty-second floor. I have been described as chilly, but that man makes even me shudder. Something about him has always really put me off, even when he was young. I think I must have met him when I was about four years old, when he was an apprentice to Gast. Gast was always friendly enough to Fussy and I when we were toddering around the building, but Hojo looked at us like we were in his way. Which, to be fair, I'm sure we were, but it takes a special kind of nerve to behave coldy toward the children of the man who funds your entire research program. Normally that would infuriate the boss man . . . of course, we all know Father, and Hojo is still here, which is telling. |
I think part of what has always made me nervous about him is his affiliation with the late Sephiroth. What that affiliation was exactly is vague at best, but there are rumors . . . I'll say that I'm not surprised that a person who spent so much of his youth in the company of Hojo turned into a homicidal lunatic, and leave it at that.
As for Sephiroth, most of my memories of him involve the girls at my boarding school gossiping about him when his career was first taking off, during the war. His pictures were always in the paper, and he was very beautiful. Though I lived in the same building with him until I was six, I only saw him once. I was ten years old, home from school for one of the company 'balls' that some of the older Shinra staff may remember from the earlier years. I remember pointing him out to Fus - he was sitting across the room, silent and still, looking morose. He was young, and nothing like the mammoth warrior he later became - he looked rather fragile. I think I must have wanted to talk to him, but he had such a presense (or promise) among the Shinra people that it was far too intimidating.
I can't help but think that maybe the 'Sephiroth project' wouldn't have failed so spectacularly if Gast had been left in charge. I wonder why he left, and where he is now. All Father would ever say is that he 'went North,' whatever that means. I remember the day of his disappearance very specifically, though I was young, maybe only three or four years old. I wasn't allowed to leave my room all day, and I was locked in there not only with Nanny but with Fus, who was an infant and wailing constantly. There was a lot of commotion all night long.
It's funny, the things you remember about your childhood . . . but enough time wasted thinking about the past. Back to work.