Ported from personal journal
Inspired largely from This Cherry BB picture, two inspiring final fantasy VII roleplayers and friends, and to a lesser extent my Reeve music choice, the Marc Almond song My Dreams Are Yours.
AU to a degree - influenced by an RP where all characters are present from various timelines and are of varying ages and experiences.
Characters: Reeve Tuesti, Tseng of the Turks, Veld and Cait Sith.
Pairing/s? One-sided Tseng/Reeve (Tseeve). Suggesed Tseng/Rufus. Male/Male.
Warnings: Blood, angst.
Everything occurred like a dream. No. More a nightmare. Combat surrounded me, though I was not there. Instead my feline construction was in the fray as I sat back, experiencing the panic, the horror, the bloodshed from afar. It has always posed a strange sense of detachment to feel such emotions so strongly, yet entirely from a second hand perspective. Such was the life of a spy, I presumed.
Grasping the armrest of the chair with one hand, my forehead undoubtedly scrunched into a look of concentration, whilst the fingers on the other hand worked a panel control. Though Cait Sith's A.I. was something all onto itself, occasionally, when such things were warranted, I had to directly remote control him via a screen. A screen that showed me the world from his eyes.
A screen that suddenly showed me something I never wanted to see again.
A man of ivory skin and long obsidian hair, a delicate mark adorning his forehead. That man, Tseng, strangely enough my friend, once more covered in the dark vermillion stains of his own blood. His long body slumped into the shadows out of sight. Secretive and discrete, as a Turk always should be.
I shouted something, I do not remember what, for my voice reverberated around me like I was in an empty concave structure. I grabbed the portable remote screen and ran out to where I detected that he was, desperately trying to send the right signals to Cait Sith. Go find medical help. Alert anybody. Alert Rufus even. Though my hands were shaking and I knew with a sinking feeling I would have to rely on Cait Sith's capacities for individual thought. Whilst he exceeded all expectations, I could only imagine what he would be doing in response to that sight.
After all we were roughly one and the same, and here I was running like the world was falling from beneath my feet. Cait Sith, being always the more emotionally extrovert, was probably on the verge of a major short circuit.
It had been many years, but still that same sense of panic and dread flooded me with that bloody vision like no time had passed at all. Tseng had survived the Temple of the Ancients like my sanity had survived it. Which was barely at all. But he lived. He was safe. He had become strong again. He had gone back to being by the side of the ShinRa president.
Poised perfection, calm, serene, deadly and… beautiful, always. That was, except for in my dreams. The ones from which I woke shaking, hair plastered to me from the sweat drench dampening the sheets. Those types of dreams which were now threatening to saturate into my reality.
We still meet for coffee sometimes. Silence overcomes us; a former executive and the director of the Turks, sitting side by side sipping on our own preferred versions of the caffeine drink. It makes me oddly contented, and yet, at the same time, makes me impossibly sad. It makes me want to embrace the unspoken understandings and at the same time discuss with him in infinite detail about the world in which I once occupied. Our world.
I often think of the strangest things when under duress...
Though, Tseng and that bitter fluid has always held an association in my mind. It is one of the reasons I always choose the best blends, the ones with the smoothest, richest and most velvety taste that linger on my tongue like the look of his eyes, the flow of his hair lingers in my mind. So foolish Reeve, foolish.
Only my work could, and will again, keep me occupied.
Though, how could I think of work at a time like this?
Not when Tseng...
My feet carried on hitting the pavement, the wind battered around my sides as I ran, and ran. My heart was pounding and there were tight bands of pain striating spasms across my torso. Panic settled in as nausea, a soft sickening ache, clawed from the inside out. Finally I reached the place where I had witnessed him disappearing into the dark. Slowing right down, the pace of time slowing with me into a warped haze of desperation, and then, it was like the eerie calm of an eye of a storm.
My own eyes sought Tseng out, finding him, still battling to keep upright, to keep himself composed. Those delicate ellipses squeezed shut and a frown marred the straight lines of his usual honed features. His long fingers rested on the handle of his gun. As I approached, my ragged breathing loud enough to my own ears, let alone those of a trained Turk, Tseng flinched and suddenly his weapon was hoisted in my direction, angle just slightly off with what I could only presume was heaviness in his elongated limb. It was a jarring sight. Eyes snapped open, half-lidded, the struggle against pain causing them to look blacker than I have ever seen them. Like an idiot I raised my hands. "Tseng. It's Reeve. Don't shoot."
His eyes did not seem to register my presence, but the gun was lowered, cocked back into its holster at his narrow hip. I let out a deep breath I had not realised I was holding and moved forward, just catching the other man as he slumped down. The noble frame settled back into my own unexceptional chest and immediately my arms found their way around him protectively as we slid to the floor, down the central pillar. My body taking the weight of that release from struggle.
Tseng's breathing was shallow as one of my hands remained cradling him and the other moved to the wound at his side which was gushing. Working fingers, rough and broad, gripped those gloved tapered digits so accustomed to bloodshed, and pressed hard against the warm, viscous flow. He took a sharp hiss of breath as I applied the pressure, but he would not show me any further weakness. Instead, in between staccato, irregular gasps of air he pulled his hand away from mine, leaving me alone to stem the blood flow. Leaving me alone with my twinge of anger as he then uttered quietly "Rufus..." His skin was shining opaque. Like mother of pearl.
"Cait Sith has gone to alert, if not Rufus, then Veld, or even Valentine" I replied. My voice cracked as I crossed my arm over him, pulling him back against me closer. I closed my eyes, head dipping forward in silent shame as I took in the scent of him, exotic like incense, layered over with the acrid stench of blood and violence.
I wanted to scream "Don't you dare die on me! Don't you leave me Tseng!" or some such contrition. Instead my breath, through gritted teeth, silently pleaded against his head. A strand of black hair stuck in a twisted path across my beard and between my lips. It was matted with metallic-tasting burnished crimson. He merely lay against me impassive, no movement beyond small laboured intakes of air.
A crush in my chest was felt, much more than just the measurement of mass upon me. I know I was merely an associate. I have always known that, will always know that. So why did that thought bear so heavily upon me in that moment? Still I clung to him, regardless of my selfish desires, urging him to stay alive. Even if that meant I had to face him, cool by the side of ShinRa. It was not unendurable. My foundations are not that easily shaken. And Tseng would be alive. That was what was right, surely.
Aid came in the form of Veld, Cait Sith and others. They prised Tseng from my embrace. Once he had been taken away, I raised my hand to my sight. It was covered in his blood. I turned my palm over and looked intently. It was an odd sight to have the blood of another man oozing between my fingers. It was so very different to the way my hands had been stained before. Though this could be washed off, all now marked me indelible... His lifestream, the lifestream of all those in Midgar, the lifestream of the planet I had plundered with my own naivety.
A gruff voice startled me from my reverie. "How you doin' kid?" I looked at Veld with eyes of what I would presume would be green, given that they had been stinging with salt since I had come upon Tseng. They always turned green when the whites were reddened. Strange, I know. Pushing myself to standing, my legs were numbed and aching, as if I had run for an incredible distance, instead of that mere paltry area I had actually covered.
I noticed Cait Sith a little more demure than usual trotting around our ankles. Our mood still did not prevent him from giving a swift kick to Veld's leg. I mumbled a reply, an apology perhaps, as Veld picked up Cait Sith by the scruff of his red cape necktie. My feline toy wriggled and squirmed "Hey! Leave me alone, ya big brute!" I sincerely hoped that the other man would not misconstrue the automaton's words but Veld merely threw him over to me and grumped "Damn cats, all over the place". Moving closer, he slapped me on my shoulders, the pivot of my body as tightly wound as the clockwork pieces I had started as a hobby back in Gaia.
"Don't tell me.. " Veld's voice was still gruff, as if he had been worn down by life, but was more likely due to those cigarettes. Possibly. He pulled one out and lit it nonchalantly before passing it to me. I took a deep inhale, knowing full well what he is was meaning with those words. Looking up at the marginally older male I shook my head slightly "That's not something one man should be asking another." Slipping back into silence, I exhaled slowly. Cait Sith spluttered into the smoke before crawling back onto my shoulder with as much of a glare to us both as I think would be possible in a cat toy.
"Don't sweat it, kid. But, you know, the unobtainable should not be put on a pedestal. That's not gonna do you or Tseng any damned good." Veld carried on, and then following another hearty smack I was ushered back to clean myself up and get some rest.
Lain upon my bed, Cait Sith curls on top of me, his mechanical body not warming that coldness in my hollow chest. I raise my hands to my face once more to study. Apparently they would tell me how Tseng was. Though, if he is now in Rufus ShinRa's care, I somehow doubt it. If he survives, the next time I will see him he will once more be the exquisite statue at the young blonde's side. The one that I am forced to adore from afar.
I give a bitter laugh and Cait Sith looks at me. Cracks open to reveal dark blue eyes that only I have ever seen. The chasm of self opens wide and we know how terrible we really are. Lids shut to await those dreams. The ones in which emotion is felt so strongly, entirely from a first person perspective. Such are the dreams of a spy, indeed.
AU to a degree - influenced by an RP where all characters are present from various timelines and are of varying ages and experiences.
Characters: Reeve Tuesti, Tseng of the Turks, Veld and Cait Sith.
Pairing/s? One-sided Tseng/Reeve (Tseeve). Suggesed Tseng/Rufus. Male/Male.
Warnings: Blood, angst.
Everything occurred like a dream. No. More a nightmare. Combat surrounded me, though I was not there. Instead my feline construction was in the fray as I sat back, experiencing the panic, the horror, the bloodshed from afar. It has always posed a strange sense of detachment to feel such emotions so strongly, yet entirely from a second hand perspective. Such was the life of a spy, I presumed.
Grasping the armrest of the chair with one hand, my forehead undoubtedly scrunched into a look of concentration, whilst the fingers on the other hand worked a panel control. Though Cait Sith's A.I. was something all onto itself, occasionally, when such things were warranted, I had to directly remote control him via a screen. A screen that showed me the world from his eyes.
A screen that suddenly showed me something I never wanted to see again.
A man of ivory skin and long obsidian hair, a delicate mark adorning his forehead. That man, Tseng, strangely enough my friend, once more covered in the dark vermillion stains of his own blood. His long body slumped into the shadows out of sight. Secretive and discrete, as a Turk always should be.
I shouted something, I do not remember what, for my voice reverberated around me like I was in an empty concave structure. I grabbed the portable remote screen and ran out to where I detected that he was, desperately trying to send the right signals to Cait Sith. Go find medical help. Alert anybody. Alert Rufus even. Though my hands were shaking and I knew with a sinking feeling I would have to rely on Cait Sith's capacities for individual thought. Whilst he exceeded all expectations, I could only imagine what he would be doing in response to that sight.
After all we were roughly one and the same, and here I was running like the world was falling from beneath my feet. Cait Sith, being always the more emotionally extrovert, was probably on the verge of a major short circuit.
It had been many years, but still that same sense of panic and dread flooded me with that bloody vision like no time had passed at all. Tseng had survived the Temple of the Ancients like my sanity had survived it. Which was barely at all. But he lived. He was safe. He had become strong again. He had gone back to being by the side of the ShinRa president.
Poised perfection, calm, serene, deadly and… beautiful, always. That was, except for in my dreams. The ones from which I woke shaking, hair plastered to me from the sweat drench dampening the sheets. Those types of dreams which were now threatening to saturate into my reality.
We still meet for coffee sometimes. Silence overcomes us; a former executive and the director of the Turks, sitting side by side sipping on our own preferred versions of the caffeine drink. It makes me oddly contented, and yet, at the same time, makes me impossibly sad. It makes me want to embrace the unspoken understandings and at the same time discuss with him in infinite detail about the world in which I once occupied. Our world.
I often think of the strangest things when under duress...
Though, Tseng and that bitter fluid has always held an association in my mind. It is one of the reasons I always choose the best blends, the ones with the smoothest, richest and most velvety taste that linger on my tongue like the look of his eyes, the flow of his hair lingers in my mind. So foolish Reeve, foolish.
Only my work could, and will again, keep me occupied.
Though, how could I think of work at a time like this?
Not when Tseng...
My feet carried on hitting the pavement, the wind battered around my sides as I ran, and ran. My heart was pounding and there were tight bands of pain striating spasms across my torso. Panic settled in as nausea, a soft sickening ache, clawed from the inside out. Finally I reached the place where I had witnessed him disappearing into the dark. Slowing right down, the pace of time slowing with me into a warped haze of desperation, and then, it was like the eerie calm of an eye of a storm.
My own eyes sought Tseng out, finding him, still battling to keep upright, to keep himself composed. Those delicate ellipses squeezed shut and a frown marred the straight lines of his usual honed features. His long fingers rested on the handle of his gun. As I approached, my ragged breathing loud enough to my own ears, let alone those of a trained Turk, Tseng flinched and suddenly his weapon was hoisted in my direction, angle just slightly off with what I could only presume was heaviness in his elongated limb. It was a jarring sight. Eyes snapped open, half-lidded, the struggle against pain causing them to look blacker than I have ever seen them. Like an idiot I raised my hands. "Tseng. It's Reeve. Don't shoot."
His eyes did not seem to register my presence, but the gun was lowered, cocked back into its holster at his narrow hip. I let out a deep breath I had not realised I was holding and moved forward, just catching the other man as he slumped down. The noble frame settled back into my own unexceptional chest and immediately my arms found their way around him protectively as we slid to the floor, down the central pillar. My body taking the weight of that release from struggle.
Tseng's breathing was shallow as one of my hands remained cradling him and the other moved to the wound at his side which was gushing. Working fingers, rough and broad, gripped those gloved tapered digits so accustomed to bloodshed, and pressed hard against the warm, viscous flow. He took a sharp hiss of breath as I applied the pressure, but he would not show me any further weakness. Instead, in between staccato, irregular gasps of air he pulled his hand away from mine, leaving me alone to stem the blood flow. Leaving me alone with my twinge of anger as he then uttered quietly "Rufus..." His skin was shining opaque. Like mother of pearl.
"Cait Sith has gone to alert, if not Rufus, then Veld, or even Valentine" I replied. My voice cracked as I crossed my arm over him, pulling him back against me closer. I closed my eyes, head dipping forward in silent shame as I took in the scent of him, exotic like incense, layered over with the acrid stench of blood and violence.
I wanted to scream "Don't you dare die on me! Don't you leave me Tseng!" or some such contrition. Instead my breath, through gritted teeth, silently pleaded against his head. A strand of black hair stuck in a twisted path across my beard and between my lips. It was matted with metallic-tasting burnished crimson. He merely lay against me impassive, no movement beyond small laboured intakes of air.
A crush in my chest was felt, much more than just the measurement of mass upon me. I know I was merely an associate. I have always known that, will always know that. So why did that thought bear so heavily upon me in that moment? Still I clung to him, regardless of my selfish desires, urging him to stay alive. Even if that meant I had to face him, cool by the side of ShinRa. It was not unendurable. My foundations are not that easily shaken. And Tseng would be alive. That was what was right, surely.
Aid came in the form of Veld, Cait Sith and others. They prised Tseng from my embrace. Once he had been taken away, I raised my hand to my sight. It was covered in his blood. I turned my palm over and looked intently. It was an odd sight to have the blood of another man oozing between my fingers. It was so very different to the way my hands had been stained before. Though this could be washed off, all now marked me indelible... His lifestream, the lifestream of all those in Midgar, the lifestream of the planet I had plundered with my own naivety.
A gruff voice startled me from my reverie. "How you doin' kid?" I looked at Veld with eyes of what I would presume would be green, given that they had been stinging with salt since I had come upon Tseng. They always turned green when the whites were reddened. Strange, I know. Pushing myself to standing, my legs were numbed and aching, as if I had run for an incredible distance, instead of that mere paltry area I had actually covered.
I noticed Cait Sith a little more demure than usual trotting around our ankles. Our mood still did not prevent him from giving a swift kick to Veld's leg. I mumbled a reply, an apology perhaps, as Veld picked up Cait Sith by the scruff of his red cape necktie. My feline toy wriggled and squirmed "Hey! Leave me alone, ya big brute!" I sincerely hoped that the other man would not misconstrue the automaton's words but Veld merely threw him over to me and grumped "Damn cats, all over the place". Moving closer, he slapped me on my shoulders, the pivot of my body as tightly wound as the clockwork pieces I had started as a hobby back in Gaia.
"Don't tell me.. " Veld's voice was still gruff, as if he had been worn down by life, but was more likely due to those cigarettes. Possibly. He pulled one out and lit it nonchalantly before passing it to me. I took a deep inhale, knowing full well what he is was meaning with those words. Looking up at the marginally older male I shook my head slightly "That's not something one man should be asking another." Slipping back into silence, I exhaled slowly. Cait Sith spluttered into the smoke before crawling back onto my shoulder with as much of a glare to us both as I think would be possible in a cat toy.
"Don't sweat it, kid. But, you know, the unobtainable should not be put on a pedestal. That's not gonna do you or Tseng any damned good." Veld carried on, and then following another hearty smack I was ushered back to clean myself up and get some rest.
Lain upon my bed, Cait Sith curls on top of me, his mechanical body not warming that coldness in my hollow chest. I raise my hands to my face once more to study. Apparently they would tell me how Tseng was. Though, if he is now in Rufus ShinRa's care, I somehow doubt it. If he survives, the next time I will see him he will once more be the exquisite statue at the young blonde's side. The one that I am forced to adore from afar.
I give a bitter laugh and Cait Sith looks at me. Cracks open to reveal dark blue eyes that only I have ever seen. The chasm of self opens wide and we know how terrible we really are. Lids shut to await those dreams. The ones in which emotion is felt so strongly, entirely from a first person perspective. Such are the dreams of a spy, indeed.