[div style="background-color: #292727; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]Sephiroth considered himself hardy and tough; adaptable was probably the word to use for him.  He had travelled for a long time and lived in many an environment that he was forced to adapt to and live in.  The gloomy forest the Rosebloods currently resided in wasn’t at all new for him; livable and safe.  He did not fear the beasts that lived in the darkest shadows of the territory, then again he didn’t fear much at all.

Weather had a large part to play in the livableness of a habitat.  He had endured snowstorms that froze his whiskers solid, heat that nearly drove him delirious, and rainstorms that forced him to take shelter before the chill wind and harsh downpour overtook his body temperature.  He had endured all of it the best he could, and clearly had survived it.  He had grown so he could tolerate harsh changes in climate easily enough as well as perform needed tasks and chores no matter the environment.  Time to pass that down a little bit.

Thunder roared in the dark sky above him, the leaves of the trees rattling with the harsh rainfall that broke through the canopy and dowsed the earth below in water.  Glimpses of lightning could be seen through the cover the trees provided, lighting up the sky with a harsh crack of energy that brought destruction to whatever it touched.  Not to mention it was the middle of the night during all of this; the noise robbed one of sleep and the chill winds and water could make being outside rather perilous.

Sephiroth was up for it though.

The lion would march through the stormy woods with great steps and a gaze narrowed into luminescent slits that almost glowed in the night.  The harsh rain had flattened his silver mane against his body, framing his pale head.  His muscles were hard, visible underneath his pelt as he pushed on through the harsh weather.  Powerful.  Hardy.  Possibly crazy.

Sephiroth wasn’t too far from the mansion, but he would need to awaken his fellow Rosebloods had the thunder outside not already done the job.  The powerful wildcat would turn around towards the direction of home, a flash of lightning giving a sheen to his silvery pale and mane.  With great force he would part his jaws in the trademark roar of his species, one that could certainly be heard by those still asleep inside the base camp.  He didn’t care if it was the middle of the night, that was the point.  To make sure his group was prepared for battle in the harshest of circumstances.  The enemy waited for nobody.

”Rosebloods.”  The deep baritone of his voice rose above the crashing sounds of the storm, full of authority and strong sounding.  ”Battle does not wait for anybody, it does not care about time or weather.  You must be prepared to fight no matter what the condition is.”  His form was hunched slightly as he stood, the rain pressing down on his pale body but he himself not giving in.  ”Thus, I am hosting a mass spar.  If you come I assume you’re going to fight, no spectating here I demand participation from all who arrive.  You pick your own partner.  No powers, no weapons, just your pure physical strength.  Fight hard, but not fatally, and I will personally remove those not following the rules by force if I must.  I will be open to fight whomever out of you.”  He provided no further explanation because none was needed.  It was a mass spar in the middle of a harsh night storm, it was self-explanatory.

#psychosocial.