DoC ficcage
FF7: Dirge of Cerberus cutscenes on youtube: unfortunate source of spoilers for people who a) have no money, and b) have enough curiosity to meet the fate of that legendary cat. In result, here's a drabble.
Title: Flipsides Equal Two
Rating: PG (only a few small, general references to violence and dark thoughts)
Length: 1000 words
Characters: Reeve and Vincent
Spoilers: None, as far as I can see
Timeline: After the establishment of WRO but otherwise vague
____________________________________________________________
Flipsides Equal Two
~*~
Vincent Valentine looks back on things more often than not. He takes every single instance where he's been through something difficult and puts it under a flashlight and a magnifying lens. He examines every minuscule detail from every conceivable angle he somes up with, turning the moment over and over in his head and shutting out the rest of the world. Vincent Valentine looks inwards a lot, away from today and the future and into the days gone by, at things he can no longer change. He does not deal very well when he can’t avoid contact with the world outside.
Reeve Tuesti looks forward a lot more than he looks back. He grasps for each scenario he can hazard a guess might become topical and files them all in a careful row, mindful of every single twist and fork in each and every one of his plans. He spends a lot of time pondering on the what-ifs and the what-will-bes. Reeve Tuesti looks outwards a lot, away from himself and into the world, at things he can make a difference with. He does not deal very well with the quiet moments when there is nothing else to worry about than that which is beyond his control.
Vincent doesn’t mind Reeve’s company because Reeve makes sure Vincent doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the world; Reeve will do it for him. Reeve will know what to do to take care of today and tomorrow, and Vincent needs only to listen to him, to nod, to get up and gather his guns and do whatever it was that Reeve said should be done.
Reeve feels comfortable around Vincent even when the silence is deadly and the inevitable peril begins to fall in place all around them, because Vincent will remain calm and certain at all times. Vincent is like a boulder against tides; unmoving, fearless, invincible. He gives Reeve courage to face all the uncertainties and variables he wishes would not be not there.
Vincent is certain Reeve is much better a person than himself, one who would not make the mistakes he himself has made. He is in loath to admit it to himself, but without Reeve, most of the time he would not know what to do with himself; he would wander the world aimlessly, watching from sidelines and never be able to decide when to refrain and when to act. Reeve might not last very long alone in the field, but he knows everything about which cords to pull to make sure that those who do get into that position are equipped as well as possible, and he also knows how to make sure most people never have to find out how well they would do out there. He looks up to the part of a responsible, reliable leader, too, while even Vincent has to admit that he himself is starting to resemble a storybook monster more and more as time goes by. And Reeve never kills if there is any other way. That is something that Vincent envies. Reeve’s hands are clean; he holds onto his conscience. Vincent murders without a second thought; his hands are stained.
Reeve thinks that Vincent is sometimes a bit too aloof and might not be the first person you’d pick to run an organisation because of the fine show of a lack of people skills that he puts on, but he knows that the other man is capable of much more than he gives either the appearance of or himself credit for. Vincent is brave; he goes out into the danger without even a pause, protecting others and doing what’s right without concern for his well-being or even his life. Reeve has always been afraid of battles and injury and death; when told to go undercover, he sent a remote control toy instead. He is not brave enough to put himself on the line and killing makes him feel sick and weak inside. Compared to Vincent, he feels shrunken and small, like a cheap, off-colour, imitation-fur teddy next to a bear. Reeve may have the pomp and the circumstance, but Vincent is the one who has the nerve to do what must be done, when it must be done, where it must be done and the way it must be done, and Reeve envies him for that. Vincent is a hero; Reeve is an office clerk.
Vincent comes and goes, disappears from the radar for long periods and usually pops out again in the last place Reeve had expected him to be. Vincent, however, can be sure that whenever he wishes to find the Commissioner, he will only have to pick up the most recent newspaper.
When Vincent turns up in the same place where Reeve is, he usually has little to say. Reeve doesn’t mind. He fills up two cups with coffee, one dark with two spoonfuls of sugar (Reeve has memorised it by now; it’s a perfect analogy for a seemingly bitter and dark man with an unexpectedly gentle core), and the other with milk but no sugar (pleasant on the surface but not as sweet and soft as you might think; much like Reeve himself, Vincent reflects), and does the talking for both of them. He tells Vincent about the proceedings of the restoration project, the latest happenings, the unfortunate upheavals, the small victories and the behind-the-scenes plottings that go on in WRO and the entire world. Vincent stays quiet, rarely speaking unless Reeve asks him to, but he never interrupts. They drink the coffee and leave the mugs on the table, and then Reeve offers to show Vincent to a room in the facilities so that he doesn’t need to spend his gil on a public inn. Vincent never declines.
Next morning, Vincent is always gone, and neither of them knows where he’s headed. Every single time. And yet both know he will come back, that there will always be a next time as well.
~fin~
____________________________________________________________
Author's notes: I meant this to be an exercise in word quota, but the number I aimed for kept being pushed up and I still had something further to say. I started with 100 words and ended up with 10 x that. Oops. Also, the whole idea was born from the (hopefully not premature?) observation that Vincent and Reeve work well together and also as some sort of an antidote to a seemingly tragic female character in an absolutely ridiculous skimpy getup. If she'd had shirt and pants on I would have loved her on the spot. Alas, you can't always win. Well, at least we've got Reeve to fill the "looking respectable" box. ^_^
And I know the title is laughable but I ran out of creativity. 'Scuse me.
And that Xaldin fic? Working on it. I swear.
Title: Flipsides Equal Two
Rating: PG (only a few small, general references to violence and dark thoughts)
Length: 1000 words
Characters: Reeve and Vincent
Spoilers: None, as far as I can see
Timeline: After the establishment of WRO but otherwise vague
____________________________________________________________
Flipsides Equal Two
~*~
Vincent Valentine looks back on things more often than not. He takes every single instance where he's been through something difficult and puts it under a flashlight and a magnifying lens. He examines every minuscule detail from every conceivable angle he somes up with, turning the moment over and over in his head and shutting out the rest of the world. Vincent Valentine looks inwards a lot, away from today and the future and into the days gone by, at things he can no longer change. He does not deal very well when he can’t avoid contact with the world outside.
Reeve Tuesti looks forward a lot more than he looks back. He grasps for each scenario he can hazard a guess might become topical and files them all in a careful row, mindful of every single twist and fork in each and every one of his plans. He spends a lot of time pondering on the what-ifs and the what-will-bes. Reeve Tuesti looks outwards a lot, away from himself and into the world, at things he can make a difference with. He does not deal very well with the quiet moments when there is nothing else to worry about than that which is beyond his control.
Vincent doesn’t mind Reeve’s company because Reeve makes sure Vincent doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the world; Reeve will do it for him. Reeve will know what to do to take care of today and tomorrow, and Vincent needs only to listen to him, to nod, to get up and gather his guns and do whatever it was that Reeve said should be done.
Reeve feels comfortable around Vincent even when the silence is deadly and the inevitable peril begins to fall in place all around them, because Vincent will remain calm and certain at all times. Vincent is like a boulder against tides; unmoving, fearless, invincible. He gives Reeve courage to face all the uncertainties and variables he wishes would not be not there.
Vincent is certain Reeve is much better a person than himself, one who would not make the mistakes he himself has made. He is in loath to admit it to himself, but without Reeve, most of the time he would not know what to do with himself; he would wander the world aimlessly, watching from sidelines and never be able to decide when to refrain and when to act. Reeve might not last very long alone in the field, but he knows everything about which cords to pull to make sure that those who do get into that position are equipped as well as possible, and he also knows how to make sure most people never have to find out how well they would do out there. He looks up to the part of a responsible, reliable leader, too, while even Vincent has to admit that he himself is starting to resemble a storybook monster more and more as time goes by. And Reeve never kills if there is any other way. That is something that Vincent envies. Reeve’s hands are clean; he holds onto his conscience. Vincent murders without a second thought; his hands are stained.
Reeve thinks that Vincent is sometimes a bit too aloof and might not be the first person you’d pick to run an organisation because of the fine show of a lack of people skills that he puts on, but he knows that the other man is capable of much more than he gives either the appearance of or himself credit for. Vincent is brave; he goes out into the danger without even a pause, protecting others and doing what’s right without concern for his well-being or even his life. Reeve has always been afraid of battles and injury and death; when told to go undercover, he sent a remote control toy instead. He is not brave enough to put himself on the line and killing makes him feel sick and weak inside. Compared to Vincent, he feels shrunken and small, like a cheap, off-colour, imitation-fur teddy next to a bear. Reeve may have the pomp and the circumstance, but Vincent is the one who has the nerve to do what must be done, when it must be done, where it must be done and the way it must be done, and Reeve envies him for that. Vincent is a hero; Reeve is an office clerk.
Vincent comes and goes, disappears from the radar for long periods and usually pops out again in the last place Reeve had expected him to be. Vincent, however, can be sure that whenever he wishes to find the Commissioner, he will only have to pick up the most recent newspaper.
When Vincent turns up in the same place where Reeve is, he usually has little to say. Reeve doesn’t mind. He fills up two cups with coffee, one dark with two spoonfuls of sugar (Reeve has memorised it by now; it’s a perfect analogy for a seemingly bitter and dark man with an unexpectedly gentle core), and the other with milk but no sugar (pleasant on the surface but not as sweet and soft as you might think; much like Reeve himself, Vincent reflects), and does the talking for both of them. He tells Vincent about the proceedings of the restoration project, the latest happenings, the unfortunate upheavals, the small victories and the behind-the-scenes plottings that go on in WRO and the entire world. Vincent stays quiet, rarely speaking unless Reeve asks him to, but he never interrupts. They drink the coffee and leave the mugs on the table, and then Reeve offers to show Vincent to a room in the facilities so that he doesn’t need to spend his gil on a public inn. Vincent never declines.
Next morning, Vincent is always gone, and neither of them knows where he’s headed. Every single time. And yet both know he will come back, that there will always be a next time as well.
~fin~
____________________________________________________________
Author's notes: I meant this to be an exercise in word quota, but the number I aimed for kept being pushed up and I still had something further to say. I started with 100 words and ended up with 10 x that. Oops. Also, the whole idea was born from the (hopefully not premature?) observation that Vincent and Reeve work well together and also as some sort of an antidote to a seemingly tragic female character in an absolutely ridiculous skimpy getup. If she'd had shirt and pants on I would have loved her on the spot. Alas, you can't always win. Well, at least we've got Reeve to fill the "looking respectable" box. ^_^
And I know the title is laughable but I ran out of creativity. 'Scuse me.
And that Xaldin fic? Working on it. I swear.