[ That was not quite what Angeal meant, but the fact that Sephiroth was being... guided along a course only makes something steady in his gut. He doesn't know what, or why, and perhaps he'll figure it out after some time to think. Not just now.

For a moment, he bows his head, raising the buster sword, blade up, to press his forehead against the flat of it.

Then he lowers it again, stepping closer to the opening.

Hesitates. ]

Oh, fuck it all.

[ A rare, very rare expletive, from him.

As he steps by Sephiroth, he leans to press the lightest kiss to his cheek, before stepping back to the solid world once again. ]

That. Is my promise. That I won't give up again. For both of you.

[ Only then does he turn to look at Sephiroth. Not even this cold can diminish that ethereal beauty of his, and Angeal squares his shoulders, hands behind his back into a rest of respect, but eyes soft, and warm. ]

Unattainable dreams are still dreams.

[ And you are allowed to dream, my friend. ]