[Closed]
Who: Zack Fair i_love_squats and Tseng fingersloophole
When: 3/13
Where: Prayer tree then… wherever it leads from there
Format: Paragraph.
What: Zack is mopey and Tseng...well, is Tseng.
Warnings: Copious amounts of booze and angst.
( You have only been gone ten days, but already I'm wasting away. )
When: 3/13
Where: Prayer tree then… wherever it leads from there
Format: Paragraph.
What: Zack is mopey and Tseng...well, is Tseng.
Warnings: Copious amounts of booze and angst.
( You have only been gone ten days, but already I'm wasting away. )
Holding the cup, he waited for Tseng to drink his first and laughed under his breath. Since when had he begun to use a Turk as a moral compass? Shiva, this whole thing had affected him a lot more than he thought.
Trying not to wince as he swallowed it down (feeling the searing and finding it sweet, like it was burning out an infection), he passed the cup back to him, vague in if he was asking for more. It was strange to hear Tseng open up to him, to even mention the things from his personal past; Zack wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge except to hold onto it tight.
He wondered if Tseng had moments like this with his Turks, if they had their own prayer trees at home. If there was one with Cissnei’s ribbon on it.
“How old were you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. And now he made a point of looking at the cup, silently pleading for another one.
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The question was somewhat expected. Zack at least had the tact to not ask how. Not right away. "I was eleven when my mother died. My father died...a few years ago." Not that long, which was rather odd. He still wasn't certain which death had bothered him more, even if they were both barely blips on his radar now.
He poured himself a cup and dumped the first one out onto the ground, but drank the second more slowly. "I used to tie a ribbon for everyone I killed." Tseng gave a self depreciating smile at that "There wasn't a tree big enough or enough white ribbons. I gave up on that rather quickly."
Which was really to point out he'd been young and idealistic like Zack, once. It had just been forced out of him and Zack...still hoped for the best and was crushed when the worst happened.
"People live. People die. People go first and people are left behind. What can you do?" The answer was clear; nothing. Not that he expected any former SOLDIER to accept that either.
"Drink up. I have more ribbons if you think of anyone else you'd like to include."
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The alcohol was swirled in the cup, a slow revolving motion as he listened to Tseng pour another bit into the hungry ground. He wondered why, but didn’t ask. Must be another ritual thing, like the ribbons, like the bell. It all had to go in order, had to have a reason, something to do with the soul and heart and life…something philosophical that sparked his curiosity and hope and little else.
“Did you put a ribbon out for me?”
It was a careful, guarded question; he didn’t say it because he blamed Tseng for his death, but because they had known one another, had been comrades. He drank the alcohol, immediately regretted his inquiry, and looked across at him with wide eyes.
“Not that it’s your fault, you know! I’m just… I’m just wondering…since we knew each other.”
What can you do? He ground his teeth together and passed the cup back as he narrowed his eyes at the tree. What can you do, other than try to save them, protect them, never let them fall in the first place? Doesn’t everyone deserve a chance at a long, healthy life? Isn’t that everyone’s fundamental right?
“There has to be something.”
But then, over and over it was taken from them, a repeating cycle that never seemed to stop, like spokes on a moving wheel born of history and routine.
“I need one more ribbon. For Aerith, you know.”
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