(no subject)
Who: Tseng, Reeve
When: Are we on day 68? I wanted to put this in as a placeholder really for when Tseng has woken up (Sleep materia anybody? It's not Reeve, honest~). No hurries Criminey ♥ So it's actually after the Seph dealy... say day 70 something. (Will edit or change post date when it's clearer) Also sorry Wei for pre-empting app resubmission. That will be done by the end of the week. Let me know if you want me to take this down
Location: North of Kalm
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from going to talk (alongside press-secretary extraordinaire, Haruke) with the residents of Kalm (Kalm has once more become the overflow for refugees and rumours. Ah Kalm, how we love you) Reeve finds himself tracing over old memories. Never a good thing with a man who constantly guages the future and lives so fixedly in the present. And this, apparently, is how Tseng wishes to spend his vacation O.O
Warnings: Will probably become unusually outwardly reflective for Reeve... as Cait Sith is not around and about to channel it through. Uh-oh.
Reeve had nodded, smiled when it had been required, been the shoulder of comfort as warranted and the scapegoat to anger with answers answers answers to questions. They were not entirely truthful answers, but the refugees from Nibelheim and the people of Kalm had been calmed. For now. Humanity in it's loosest definition was never truly satisfied, after all. But Reeve always did his best.
It was in this transient lull in emotion that the Commissioner of the WRO had left his press secretary, Haruke, to deal with the most stubborn minded of folks - the ever surprising contrast between the unthinking mob searching for any excuse and the genuinely perceptive searching for answers - and had walked North of the quaint town.
He knew where he was going, his footsteps sure but slow. What he did not understand was particularly why. Reeve's mind was starting to go blank with every step took; the nothingness etching away as solace from the emotion, from the angry voices and occasional cries, from the general murmurs and chatter, into a peaceful solitude. The wind was sharp but fresh and buffeted at his body. It was a welcome sensation.
A kalm fang snapped him out of his blank thoughts, and whilst not fully equipped with the option of materia and Cait Sith, he had come prepared. A couple of grenades less, some reddening scratches on his face and 92 gil better off, Reeve trudged forwards once more. A potion for his troubles. He did not particularly need to remember the yelp of the beast as it had died.
Many hours later and Reeve stopped outside a wooden gate, hand resting on its surface and some deep breaths regained. He stood still for many minutes as his eyes flickered over the run down house in front of him. Then with a short, hollow bark he shook his head, pushing the gate open with a squeak.
Rusted. That needs some lubricant. There was always some underneath the kitchen sink...
Yet Reeve did not go indoors. Instead he passed to the side of the house where there was an archway built with latticed wood covered now with rotted vines. The smell of earth was strong, peaty in his nostrils, as he passed through and sunk to the floor. Knees dented the ground as he held his palm outstretched. A false sensation of warmth perhaps, for the earth appeared barren, but he could feel that without touch as another smile frosted over his features.
When: Are we on day 68? I wanted to put this in as a placeholder really for when Tseng has woken up (Sleep materia anybody? It's not Reeve, honest~). No hurries Criminey ♥ So it's actually after the Seph dealy... say day 70 something. (Will edit or change post date when it's clearer) Also sorry Wei for pre-empting app resubmission. That will be done by the end of the week. Let me know if you want me to take this down
Location: North of Kalm
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from going to talk (alongside press-secretary extraordinaire, Haruke) with the residents of Kalm (Kalm has once more become the overflow for refugees and rumours. Ah Kalm, how we love you) Reeve finds himself tracing over old memories. Never a good thing with a man who constantly guages the future and lives so fixedly in the present. And this, apparently, is how Tseng wishes to spend his vacation O.O
Warnings: Will probably become unusually outwardly reflective for Reeve... as Cait Sith is not around and about to channel it through. Uh-oh.
Reeve had nodded, smiled when it had been required, been the shoulder of comfort as warranted and the scapegoat to anger with answers answers answers to questions. They were not entirely truthful answers, but the refugees from Nibelheim and the people of Kalm had been calmed. For now. Humanity in it's loosest definition was never truly satisfied, after all. But Reeve always did his best.
It was in this transient lull in emotion that the Commissioner of the WRO had left his press secretary, Haruke, to deal with the most stubborn minded of folks - the ever surprising contrast between the unthinking mob searching for any excuse and the genuinely perceptive searching for answers - and had walked North of the quaint town.
He knew where he was going, his footsteps sure but slow. What he did not understand was particularly why. Reeve's mind was starting to go blank with every step took; the nothingness etching away as solace from the emotion, from the angry voices and occasional cries, from the general murmurs and chatter, into a peaceful solitude. The wind was sharp but fresh and buffeted at his body. It was a welcome sensation.
A kalm fang snapped him out of his blank thoughts, and whilst not fully equipped with the option of materia and Cait Sith, he had come prepared. A couple of grenades less, some reddening scratches on his face and 92 gil better off, Reeve trudged forwards once more. A potion for his troubles. He did not particularly need to remember the yelp of the beast as it had died.
Many hours later and Reeve stopped outside a wooden gate, hand resting on its surface and some deep breaths regained. He stood still for many minutes as his eyes flickered over the run down house in front of him. Then with a short, hollow bark he shook his head, pushing the gate open with a squeak.
Rusted. That needs some lubricant. There was always some underneath the kitchen sink...
Yet Reeve did not go indoors. Instead he passed to the side of the house where there was an archway built with latticed wood covered now with rotted vines. The smell of earth was strong, peaty in his nostrils, as he passed through and sunk to the floor. Knees dented the ground as he held his palm outstretched. A false sensation of warmth perhaps, for the earth appeared barren, but he could feel that without touch as another smile frosted over his features.