Somewhere outside of Traverse Town
Setting: Abandoned Area a few hours walk outside of Traverse Town
Character(s): Veld Dragoon (volenteonolente)and Cid Highwind (drinkyourtea)
Status: [Completed]
Summary: Veld wakes up in a lab and takes a walk. Cid, also walking, meets up with Veld and old man bonding begins.
( Completed: Veld and Cid are shopping... no, honest, they are. )
Character(s): Veld Dragoon (volenteonolente)and Cid Highwind (drinkyourtea)
Status: [Completed]
Summary: Veld wakes up in a lab and takes a walk. Cid, also walking, meets up with Veld and old man bonding begins.
( Completed: Veld and Cid are shopping... no, honest, they are. )
His words faltered, however, when the stranger was completely visible. Cid's face screwed up like he'd just taken a sip of three-day-old, stale tea. The cigarette that'd been wildly bouncing up and down between his lips fell out, extinguishing itself upon impact with the ground.
The man's face hit him like a wrench over the head. He knew for certain that this character was familiar, although to what degree he could not determine. His mind instantly went to ShinRa and then, for some reason, the Turks. Cid wasn't caught in awe because of his brain's inability to turn those squeaky gears in his head, though. He was more concerned with what the fuck happened to make this guy such a bloody mess? He'd worry about the familiarity later.
Cid's expression returned to its usual sneer quickly. His stance relaxed, the spear tip lowered, but he didn't drop his guard completely. "Fuckin' shit, man, you get lost in a slaughterhouse?"
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But not from here.
"Where am I?" Veld asked slowly, brown eyes looking around. For a place "infested" with the "heartless" Veld wasn't impressed. His hand twitched to his hip then, though there was nothing there.
What was he reaching for?
To cover the motion, Veld slid his hand into his pocket and waited to hear the younger - he knew that this blond man was younger - man speak.
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I am not gettin' fuckin' senile yet.
It was okay for him to give this thought some time, right? ...Right!?
"Where ya from?" Cid asked, finally lowering his spear all the way. The refugees were sometimes a little fuzzy-brained, he remembered, so it was best to ask small questions first. ...Or was that it at all? He should start paying better attention to those fucking meetings the Resistance held...
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Veld thought for a moment, but he couldn't remember where he was from. He didn't know where he was born, but he never knew that. He didn't have any clear memories of his childhood. A bloody jail at fifteen didn't count.
"You're from Rocket Town." He told the blond man.
Yes, it wasn't Rocket Town then, of course, it hadn't even had a name. ShinRa actually named something...
ShinRa! Now he was getting somewhere.
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"Shit," he began in a gruff voice, "haven't heard that name in awhile. Yeah, I am. How d'ya know that, though?" Cid had not seen anyone else from his world in...damn, it'd been a long time. He was sure they'd been lost or perhaps found another world to crash course on. At least, he hoped so. Honestly, Cid only wished death on the unfortunate few who pissed him off in unimaginable ways.
...It could be argued, then, that he'd like to rip quite a few holes in quite a few people, but that's not the point.
"You from the--" Cid started again, but stopped. The Planet. It was the missing piece he needed. "Hey, now I remember you!" The pilot bared his teeth but not threateningly. For just a second he was like a puppy that'd just found a big bone to chew on. "Yer from ShinRa? The Turks? Yeah, I remember you. Fucking eons ago, that was."
He was pretty sure the Turk made some snide comment about space to him back then. That sole reason might have been the only factor that kept Veld's face in his head.
"Yer name though..." Cid trailed off, agitated now. He snapped his fingers, and then pointed an accusing finger. "What the hell is it? It ain't something like Joe."
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"Veld Dragoon, Turks." He answered, automatically.
Veld shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. Yes… now he remembered. Punks in the Air Training Units, tried to start a fight with one of his kids, he'd had to come in and sit them on their asses properly.
"Highwind." He filled in the only name he recalled for the blond.
Something told Veld that they were both a very long way from home.
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"Well, Dragoon, now that that's sorted," he began after a second of silence, eyebrows casually narrowed. He might have been annoyed or that might have been his regular expression. It was doubtful anyone knew for sure. "I'm gonna have to take ya into town. 'Less you don't want clean clothes and a shower, that is. I don't fuckin' care either way and I'm thinkin' neither do you."
Cid didn't feel right just leaving the man there alone. He was a Turk, sure, and Turks could take care of themselves. From the looks of it, Veld didn't appear armed. He might give the man a weapon...if he was sure Veld wouldn't automatically turn around and shoot him as thanks. Cid didn't trust anybody from ShinRa as far as he could throw Palmer.
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His hand had stopped tapping, though, that was a good thing. No fits around new people.
Or maybe Cid Highwind didn't know about Veld's "problem". That would be really nice; he remembered that most of ShinRa treated him like a bomb of sorts. It used to make Vincent angry…
And then he remembered the rest of it. Vincent… god he had to find him. Veld had to say sorry.
He looked around again and frowned. "This is no where near Midgar… is it?"
And where were any of those little heartless? He had other questions, but best not to overload the other man. It would seem like an interrogation then.
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Veld...well, Veld could do what he pleased. Cid wasn't around enough back then to catch wind of the man's fits, but he remembered hearing some rumors. Most of them shouldn't be spoken around children. Virgin ears were fragile.
"Well, c'mon then," Cid instructed with a nod of his head back towards town. He shouldered his weapon casually and turned slightly. "It ain't gettin' any lighter. The Heartless may be scarce 'round here now, but when it gets real dark a few will pop up here and there." They were more annoying than dangerous, really, but that was just Cid's opinion.
"I'll take ya to the little inn. You can stay there until morning."
If the attendant had a problem with that, she could just shove it.
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"And if you don't mind me asking, what year is it?" He was getting clothes, and a shower, and then he could find Vincent. Maybe Cid knew him. He'd ask later.
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At the question of what year it was, though, Cid stopped walking. His eyebrows came together in the confusing realization that...he did not know the year. "Uh, I've got no idea," the pilot recovered, coughing uncomfortably, "ask somebody in town."
And eventually, they did arrive in Traverse Town. The streets were empty save for a few wandering animals - one of which Cid had to poke with his spear to get out of the way of the inn doors. The dog's ears perked up lazily, but the creature wouldn't move until Cid stomped his boot on its tail. It yelped in surprise and took off, vanishing down some nearby alley.
"Damn critters..." the man grumbled. He made sure Veld was still behind him before pushing open one of the doors.
Unsurprisingly, the attendant was not at the front desk waiting. She often frittered her evening hours away goofing off. Whatever - tonight it just meant Cid didn't have to pay.
"They keep a couple sets o' spare clothes in the guest rooms," he explained after a quick check around both corners of the desk. Finding the girl absent, he stomped around the counter to grab keys. "Ye might be able to find something ye like. If not, the shops open up at the crack 'o dawn every mornin'. One of 'em should let you buy the clothes on credit."
Cid led Veld to room 104. He unlocked the door and then tossed the keys to him.
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"You, wouldn't… by chance, know a Vincent Valentine would you?" Veld asked, almost too late. Sooner or later, Cid would recall that the two of them hadn't seen eye to eye, Veld needed to ask that while he could.
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"Vincent Valentine?" Cid repeated, rubbing his stubby chin. He thought good and hard about the question since nothing initially popped into his head. Veld might have thought he'd lost Cid to his mental pondering if the pilot didn't suddenly snap his fingers. Eureka!
"Ah yeah, Valentine, yeah, I know that guy." Well, he didn't really know him, but who's keeping track of the specifics? "He worked with you, right? Haven't seen his ass in a long, long time." It was such a long time ago that he couldn't remember the last memory he had of the black-haired fellow.
Cid felt really senile lately...
"Why? Yer lookin' for him?"
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He let the silence drift in-between himself and Cid for a few more moments, trying to think about if he had actually ever spoken to Cid, or if he'd only loomed a lot. Trying to put together what the last thing he'd said to Vincent…
All that Veld knew was that he was going to have to say that he was sorry to Vincent. That was really, all that he'd felt was important.
"Yes, actually, I know that I am."
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Vincent Valentine seemed like one of those...touchy subjects. Cid had his share of those.
"...Well," he began after a second, rubbing the back of his head, "there's this group in town I'm part of called the Resistance. We're sorta in charge of keeping this town from going ape shit from the Heartless. I dunno what shit we've got planned, but yer welcome to join." The other members were suspiciously absent tonight. He assumed they were shirking off and being mindless idiots--er, children.
"A lot of people from other worlds show up here first, so ya got a pretty good shot of finding him with a big group."
Cid wasn't the best recruiter. He just sort of rambled until he hoped Veld understood. Besides, they were really hurting for members. Most of the townsfolk knew better than to tangle with short, black, yellow-eyed creatures.
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"I suppose, though I'm not one for most people." He said, hoping that no one was extremely contact oriented in Cid's little troupe.
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