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Midgar was a busy city, and though it seemed paradoxical, wildlife thrived there.
Domesticated and feral cats alike roamed the slums, along with the rodents they hunted. Above the plate, there were too many avian species to count, but that didn’t stop Sephiroth from trying. He loved all of the birds dearly, but had to admit that the crows and ravens were his favorites.
Under the cover of night, the birds would often flock together, flying about or perching on lampposts and artificial trees. Sephiroth hadn’t intended to make friends with them, not really.
It all started with an escaped cat from the slums, who saw the flocks of crows and ravens and probably hoped to become fat and happy with such easy pickings. Sephiroth felt bad for the cat and birds both, for such a scrawny cat truly had no hope of getting its paws on birds as large as these.
Sephiroth enjoyed watching the crows each day when he walked home from work, so when he saw a cat harassing them, he gently scooped it up and returned it below the plate.
After that, the birds seemed to grow attached to him. They would follow him home each day, cawing down at him from wherever they were perched. He wasn’t sure what to do with so much attention from the birds, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to indulge them a bit.
He knew better than to feed the birds on the street, and instead choose to do so in the tiny yard of his townhouse.
Anywhere he went in the city, the crows and ravens would follow like an ever-present shadow. They began leaving baubles and shiny objects—presents—in his yard for him to find upon coming home.
Sephiroth hadn’t made friends with the birds on purpose, no, but he was glad that he did. He didn’t have any friends of the human variety, and appreciated the company of the crows and ravens of Midgar.
On a day just like any other, something changed.
The streets of Midgar were almost always busy, with crowds of people caught up in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was on one such crowded street that Sephiroth was watching two of his friends squabble above him, nipping at one another in the air. He smiled to himself at the sight.
One of the crows got a bit too carried away by their play fighting, however, and sent the other careening down toward the busy, busy street.
Sephiroth panicked, watching the bird’s descent. He was sure that it would be trampled, as unobservant as Midgar’s residents were. He found himself running forward through the crowd, uncaring if he had to push a few people aside so that he could protect his friend from falling underfoot.
The birds were his only friends, and Sephiroth couldn’t bear to see one of them hurt. His lack of soulmark and strange appearance had ostracized him from society, preventing him from making any meaningful connections with other people. But the birds neither judged nor forsook him, and for that Sephiroth was grateful. He would do anything to protect them.
Luckily, Sephiroth made it just in time, barely catching the crow before it hit the pavement. It looked up at him with its small, intelligent eyes, clearly confused but not panicked that someone was holding it. Sephiroth stood there, in the middle of the busy street, gently holding the crow in his hands, protecting it from passersby who were bumping into him almost constantly.
He only barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before someone bumped into him, knocking his breath away as they made contact.
The bird began to squirm, so Sephiroth let it go easily enough, and then turned to face the person who had bumped into him.
Something was wrong. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he suddenly felt a burning feeling in his chest, accompanied by a shortness of breath that had him nearly gasping for air.
It felt… well, it felt how soulmate encounters had been described to him, only twisted and wrong. It was supposed to feel like a breath of fresh air, like warmth blooming to life in one’s chest. Not this, whatever this was. Sephiroth didn’t even have a soulmark—clearly, something was very, very wrong.
Finally, Sephiroth’s eyes locked onto the person who had bumped into him and– oh.
That wasn’t a person. At least not entirely.
The crowd continued to move around them, but Sephiroth paid it no mind. There was a man in front of him, one with black, feathered wings protruding from his back. The more Sephiroth looked at him, the more oddities he noticed—the smattering of tiny, glossy feathers dusting his cheek bones, just beneath his eyes, a handful of those same black feathers poking out from messy blond spikes of hair, eyes that glowed a bright blue, even amongst all of the light pollution in the city.
“Wait, can you see me?!” The man asked, eyes wide with panic.
Sephiroth was still processing what he was looking at, his mind trying and failing to understand the man that stood before him. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all, though his wide eyes and open mouth probably said enough.
“Oh gods, you can see me. Odin have mercy, this isn’t supposed to happen!” The man’s voice was pleasant to listen to, even in his panic.
But the burning in Sephiroth’s chest still hadn’t abated, and was now spreading to his back and shoulders. He looked at the man helplessly, eyes begging for answers or relief—something. Instead, the man began to mutter to himself in a language that Sephiroth didn’t understand
It wasn’t until his breathing became so labored that Sephiroth’s vision began to swim that the man stopped muttering and looked at him again. He only faintly heard a cry of, “Oh shit!” before he lost consciousness.
When Sephiroth woke up, he found that he was at home, tucked in his bed. There was no way that what he’d just experienced had been a dream. He refused to believe it.
Instead of dwelling on the matter further, he pulled himself up and out of bed with a groan, quietly padding over to his bathroom so that he could splash some water on his face in the hope that it would wash away his confusion, however futile an effort that may be.
Gripping the edges of the bathroom counter, Sephiroth peered at his reflection in the mirror. There was something off, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.
He tied his long hair up and out of the way before washing his face, just as he’d planned. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes again, this time with his shoulders laid bare, that he noticed what was wrong.
There were inky black markings crawling across the crest of his shoulders, bold lines and wispy strokes painted across his skin. Sephiroth leaned closer to the mirror, twisting and turning so that he could get a better look at the markings. It was a pair of wings, he realized, branching out across the tops of his shoulders, feathers trailing down toward his back and arms.
A noise from his bedroom startled Sephiroth so badly that he almost slammed his face forward into the mirror. Instead, he darted out of the bathroom, only to be met with the man from before perched casually on the foot of his bed, as if he’d always belonged there.
“The birds told me where you lived. They’re awful fond of you, you know. Can’t say I blame them, really,” the man’s voice was soft and warm, and all Sephiroth could do was stare at him, incredulous.
“I– what?” Sephiroth managed to spit out. He didn’t usually talk very much, no, but he always took care to speak properly. He wasn’t used to struggling for coherence.
Luckily, the man seemed to understand what he was getting at. He patted the bed beside him, offering a small smile. “Come, sit.”
Not knowing what else to do, Sephiroth obeyed. Immediately, the man turned to him, grabbing his hands within his own, his feathers rustling quietly as he adjusted his wings. The man had wings.
“You and I are soulmates,” he said simply, as if it wasn’t anything but.
“That’s impossible. I don’t have a soulmate. I–” Sephiroth cut himself off, not sure how to finish his thought. His entire life, he’d been ostracized for his lack of a soulmark. He’d long since gotten used to the reality of his life, and had even come to accept it. To suddenly be told differently threatened to shatter his worldview.
The man interjected before Sephiroth could begin to panic, thankfully, “My name is Muninn, but that’s a mouthful. I like to be called Cloud instead.”
Cloud. Somehow, it seemed fitting. Focusing on introductions, strange as they were, helped to keep Sephiroth from becoming too overwhelmed. “I am Sephiroth.”
With a small smile and a squeeze of his hands, Cloud asked him, “Now what’s this about not having a soulmate?”
Sephiroth sucked in a breath. It was a sore subject, but it wasn’t one that could be avoided. “I don’t have a soulmark. I never have.”
“Well that’s just not true,” Cloud said, his tone playful. Suddenly, he was brushing his hands across Sephiroth’s shoulders, touching the markings that had bloomed to life there. Cloud’s touch felt like electricity dancing across his skin, but instead of being painful, it was the most wonderful thing he’d felt in his life.
“What about you?” Sephiroth asked, hesitant. He was so incredibly out of his element.
Cloud pulled his hands back from where he’d been tracing his fingers across Sephiroth’s shoulders, holding them up so that he could see the tops of them. And oh, right there on Cloud’s hands were eyes that looked startlingly like his own, slit pupils and all.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say. He wasn’t usually so… lost for words. The feeling was rather disarming.
“Can you explain…” Sephiroth started again, not even sure how to phrase what he wanted.
“Everything?” Cloud asked. Sephiroth simply nodded in response, allowing Cloud to grab for his hands once more.
And so Cloud did. He told Sephiroth that soulmarks manifested differently when they involved gods, for that’s what Cloud was, apparently—a god of ravens, a messenger of Odin himself.
Sephiroth had never believed in gods, in the supernatural. But despite his natural skepticism, he believed Cloud. After all, the proof was right in front of him—the feathers, the wings, the soulmark he’d spent his entire life longing for. None of it could be doubted.
After Cloud was finished explaining most everything that Sephiroth could think to ask about, a comfortable silence settled between them. Sephiroth finally pulled his hair out of the bun it had been hastily tucked into, and smiled softly when Cloud pushed every last strand behind his back, exposing the markings on his shoulders.
Though he felt warm and happy and comfortable in a way he never had before, Sephiroth had to ask, “What now?”
“Hmmm?” Cloud asked, distracted by running his fingers through Sephiroth’s long, silver hair.
“How do we move forward? Cloud, you are a god, and I am sure that you have many responsibilities to keep up with. I do not know how having a soulmate fits into all of that.” Try as he may, Sephiroth was unable to keep his sudden sadness from slipping into his voice.
Cloud blinked at him once, twice. Then he chuckled softly, his laughter like ringing bells. “Oh Sephiroth, you just don’t get it. I’m a messenger, yes, but I’m not as busy as you seem to think I am. I’m also a god of ravens,” Cloud paused, stretching out his wings for emphasis, settling them to wrap around Sephiroth’s shoulders, pulling him closer to Cloud’s side, “So the birds—your friends—are my friends too, and gather information for me. Hel knows I couldn’t do it all myself.”
“Oh,” Sephiroth said, feeling foolish. His question still hadn’t been answered, not entirely. So he asked again, “What now, though?”
“We get to know each other, you introduce me to all of your lovely friends, they tell me embarrassing stories about you. That kind of thing. I’m not going to just leave, not now that I’ve finally found you. Do you know how long I’ve been looking? And to think, it was the sweet man who so many of my ravens have been chattering about.”
Sephiroth flushed despite himself. He let Cloud draw him into an embrace, suddenly aware of just how small the man was. He had so much presence about him, and his wings took up so much space that they only added to that feeling. But, wrapped up in Cloud’s arms and wings alike, Sephiroth realized that of the two of them, he was definitely larger. It made him want to protect Cloud, irrational as the idea was.
“I’m never going to let you go,” Cloud murmured from where he’d buried his face in Sephiroth’s chest, pressing gentle kisses into his skin.
“No?” Sephiroth asked, not entirely sure if Cloud was serious or not. He added, “Let’s at least lay down, then, so that we can hold one another properly.”
Cloud agreed easily enough, entwining his legs with Sephiroth’s own beneath the covers, arms and wings still wrapped around him. Sephiroth had never felt so warm in his life, and all he wanted to do was let himself melt.
Suddenly, there was a tapping on the window. They both startled, lifting their gazes to see a raven sitting on the window ledge, tapping away at the glass. When it realized that it had finally gotten their attention, it dropped a glimmering ring on the ledge and then flew off as quickly as it had arrived.
Sephiroth felt Cloud’s feathers ruffle around him, a sure sign of his embarrassment. He grumbled under his breath, something about how “meddling” and “insufferable” the bird was.
Laughing without restraint, Sephiroth wrapped his arms around Cloud in turn, pulling him closer to his chest. “You’ll stay, then? Even if my friends seem hellbent on embarrassing you?”
Cloud looked at him, glowing eyes glimmering in the dark. “Forevermore, Sephiroth,” he said, and that was all he’d ever longed to hear.