Summary: The fearless Cloud Strife, defeated by a feline.
Trigger Warnings: Wholesome fluff
Cosmo Canyon is big. Tons of empty space! Also, very dusty.
My gloves and fur are coated in orange sand. But, I don't let it get me down! Cait Sith always smiles. Besides, we've already got one sourpuss in our little traveling party.
Can't take my peepers off the spiky-haired merc taking up the rear. Silly man! He tries to look tough. Ends up looking miserable instead.
No worries! The great Cait Sith can fix this!
I shimmy up in front of our stony defender. He doesn't say anything, just warily eyes me like I've got rabies or something.
"Not much of a talker, are ye?" Years of practice have made me the master of walking backwards. Cait Sith! Graceful as… well, a cat.
"For a guy named Cloud, you aren't particularly light and airy." I go on, giving my most playful grin. Then, I make my move. Up the Buster Sword and onto the soldier's strong, tense shoulder. Can see lots from up here. Kinda cozy!
"Yer more like a storm Cloud. All doom and gloom, raining on everyone's parade. That's no fun. And what's with the big sword, Spike? Ya compensating fer something?"
That stoic face goes from annoyed to confused. How adorable. Probably not used to cute critters like me in his personal space. Savor this moment. Gotta keep the merc on his toes. Maybe help him brush off his sense of humor, too.
No time for him to swat me away. I'm off again, hippity hopping around the nice martial arts lady. She seems to like me!
"Does our fearless leader even know how to smile? Ain't part of SOLDIER training?" I ask her. Tifa's not like grumpy old Cloud at all!
"Cloud does smile. I wish he'd do it more, though... It makes him look like a charming goofball." She says. Aye! Now we're talking! Cait and Tifa, partners in crime. A real SOLDIER should be able to handle a few jibes and jabs, right?
Aw, we hurt his feelings, I think? Cloud tries to glare all tough-like.
"I... I'm not a goofball." He grumbles. Is that a pout I see?
"Aye! A very pretty goober." I give the Cait Sith seal of approval: a nod and thumbs up. The highest honor. "Brave leader Goober! Fits like materia in a glove!"
***
That does it. My focus is completely broken. Just like that, the heat of the canyon is replaced by the air-conditioned chill of my office. Ah, Shinra HQ. The name makes years of corporate tiredness rush back into my bones. I run a hand through my slicked-back hair. Just settling back into my body, with all its aches and pains. Remotely controlling a furry construct for hours is a bit disorienting.
Then, I laugh. A real laugh. The first one in weeks.
The heavy control headset I'm wearing nearly clatters to the floor as I wipe away a tear. A legendary SOLDIER who can take on monsters with ease can't take a joke from a silly little kitty. Seems I haven't lost that infamous Tuesti spark after all.
Summary: One tea deprived scholar gets more than he bargained for.
Trigger Warnings: Cosmic horror, loss of autonomy/unwanted mental intrusion, sensory disorientation, and brief mentions of fantasy violence (fire/destruction).
Ah, a tragedy! I appear to have run out of tea leaves during a critical stage in my research. Nothing pairs quite as well with ancient tomes than a perfectly steeped cup of jasmine or chamomile. Soothes the soul and opens the mind, you see.
My studies are over something important, but quite light. A 50-page treatise on the effects of overlapping ley lines on local flora and fauna. I am part way through. A generally riveting read. But the lack of my chosen biological fuel has broken my focus.
My eyes linger on my empty tea cup before moving to my tragically barren tea drawer. Seems my consumption has been much higher than normal. I am fairly certain I had acquired a fresh satchel of leaves from the merchants of Skywatch a few days ago!
Regardless, solid academic research cannot continue without tea! The inner works of my mind are currently under-lubricated. An impasse I must rectify immediately!
I suppose I could just... Conjure up more leaves. That would be the simplest solution. But, something about being pulled through existential planes affects the integrity of the brew. Not good tea. Weak, sad, and unfit for a man of my caliber.
I rise. As usual, my elderly body betrays me. A dull ache in my lower back reminds me that I am no longer a young, spry scholar.
As I approach the heavy stone doors of my study, I pause.
Skywatch is a very interesting locale. One that I prefer to observe from a distance. I'll admit... Speaking to the locals is not my forte. A good deal of them view me with wary suspicion, even with the polite air I attempt to project. I have been called "eccentric" at best, and "freak" at worst.
In light of this, I have been working on my public persona. Cultivating one that is more casual and approachable.
To start, I allow my rigid, scholarly posture to loosen. A slight slouch in the shoulders. The undoing of my robe's topmost fastening. A small shake of the head, to tousle my normally orderly dreadlocks.
There. That's better. Ready to face the world now. No problem.
I step out into the crisp Skywatch air. No deviating from the mission. Tea's on my mind, and I fully intend to get it.
***
Casually, I approach a merchant stall and give a big smile.
"Morning. I'm looking for tea. The finest you've got."
The merchant, a male Khajiit with vibrant orange fur, looks at me strangely. No doubt they've seen me and my usual… mannerisms around town.
"You are the quirky Azandar fellow, yes? The scholar who buys many satchels of good tea," he notes in a smooth purr. "A man of money and taste. Yes, this Khajiit has wares you will enjoy very much…"
Quirky? I prefer sharp and intellectually stimulated. But, I will allow his comment to slide this time, because he complimented my refined palate.
I take a moment to calm my internal bristling. Once composed, I give an airy laugh. "Yep. That's me, Azandar. I'm a bit of a tea lover. You've got my full attention, friend."
But, as I say this, I can already feel my attention slipping. There's a sharp tug at the base of my skull. The now familiar feeling of Apocrypha flooding my mind unbidden. Hermaeus Mora's gift to me, after my experiments with the Fateweaver Key. An up-close and personal look at the threads that bind all things. With no say as to when the glimpses come. I see, but have no power to change the rhythm of fate's merciless march.
I quietly brace myself against the stall, pretending to be interested in the merchant's other wares. It is important that I maintain outward calm when these visions hit. Attracting unneeded attention to myself right now would be most unwise.
The market of Skywatch begins to warp before my eyes. Colors bleed like spilled ink. The usual city din fades, replaced by the whispers of a thousand voices. My name, a disembodied hiss in the air. The taste of copper and something I can't quite place blooms on my tongue.
I see the past. The carving of stones and the building of the roads beneath my feet. Then the present. Me, standing wide-eyed and breathless. The future comes last. A burning red sky as the city is attacked by the forces of Oblivion. Echoing screams as quiet lives go up in ash and smoke.
I am in desperate need of that tea right now.
"…Does this price please the scholar?" I hear the Khajiit merchant ask. His words feel distant and unreal.
I will my mouth to speak. To agree and close this transaction before something unfortunate happens. But, the Prince of Knowledge and Fate has other plans for me.
"All things fall to ruin. All things fall apart…" I start, trying to blink away the green haze dominating my vision. "Men build monuments, chasing legacy and a place among the greats. But fate and time are heartless beasts, showing no mercy or restraint."
If I wasn't mentally indisposed, I would applaud the poetic verse of the prophet in my skull. Quite a beautiful, poignant delivery… in front of the very locals I was desperately trying not to alarm.
Well. There goes my plans of building an agreeable public persona.
I can feel the satchel of tea being pushed roughly into my hands, not a single gold piece exchanged. The many fearful eyes upon me as I make my dazed, hasty retreat. My remaining dignity, as frayed as my fate.
***
Behind my study doors, I slide to the cold stone floor. The sudden quiet only pulls me deeper into Mora's machinations in my head. The Prince is observing my ongoing mental agony. And, he is laughing. I can feel it.
"Glad this amuses you." I spit at the empty air. Cold, Daedric tentacles are probing my mind now. An unwelcome intrusion!
"It's been eons since I've come across a mind as fascinating as yours, Oracle. More open than most…" Mora's voice vibrates from within my very being.
Not Azandar. Not scholar. Oracle. Is that what I am now? A mouthpiece for Mora himself?
"I don't want to be your damned Oracle. I want to research in peace."
"Perhaps you should have considered that before meddling with Fate, my domain." The Prince purrs, the tentacles in my mind tightening painfully. "You belong to me now, Azandar al-Cybiades. Champion of Knowledge. Seer of the Binding Threads. Arcanist of the Stars."
A polymath like myself should be preening under Mora's gaze. Graciously accepting those newly bestowed titles. The attention of a Prince is an honor, as most matters are beneath them. But, each word pushed into my skull only fills me with dread. My mind, my body, and my fate are not completely my own anymore.
Now is not the time for an existential crisis, Azandar! That is what Mora wants. He wants me to crumble and break, like the frail minds before me. I will not give him that satisfaction. No, this is a vital research opportunity! With my brain and senses as test subjects. Tools to chart unexplored territory.
For now though, the exploration is on hold. Time for that tea. My sanity depends on it.
Cait Sith was supposed to be a tool. One for espionage. And, perhaps, a bit of silly self indulgence on my part.
It's grown into something more now. Something out of control. I am no longer laughing.
It started with the headaches. Burning agony behind my eyes leaving me curled at my desk. Then, came the blackouts. Chunks of time, just gone. I'd be in my office one moment, the Gold Saucer the next. People around headquarters have reported strange behaviors on my part. Talking to myself. Extended staring spells.
Today, I am being sent out for a thorough psychological evaluation. "We at Shinra care immensely about the physical and mental well-being of all our staff," The email I received this morning read.
A bunch of corporate hogwash. Pretty words with no substance. The bottom line is the only priority. And my current… quirks are endangering that.
As I approach the medical wing, fear flares in my chest. This is going to go horribly, horribly wrong. I'm one hundred percent certain of that. My math and intuition have yet to be wrong.
I duck into one of Shinra HQ's many restrooms. Currently empty besides me. A calm, quiet refuge to gather my thoughts. Easier said than done. Elevated heart rate. Throbbing head. Tight chest. The great Reeve Tuesti is having a panic attack. Under no circumstances can I let the doctors or anyone else see me like this.
I splash some cold water on my face. But that only makes my trembling worse. The person staring back at me from the mirror looks nothing like a composed Shinra executive. Disheveled hair. Wild eyes. A feral grin. A man mere moments away from completely unraveling.
Comforting self talk has a high success rate. Or so I'm told. The words do come. Just not in the voice I'd intended.
"Aye, no need to be nervous. Shinra doctors have heads full of cotton, anyways!"
No, this shouldn't be happening. I'm hiding in a bathroom far from my desk. Far from my headset and that damned robotic cat. Haven't even picked up the cursed thing in days. I've been much too busy with planning out the rebuilding of Sector 7.
Another shot of pain. The country lilt falters, dropping into a breathy groan. Somehow, my face is still forced into a grin. All teeth and bubbly feline enthusiasm.
My mind is splitting. Fracturing, really. Outright losing my marbles, mate! Not a lick I can do about it.
"Ain't a thing wrong with ye. With us." I continue, somewhere between my usual baritone and Cait's brogue. "Everything'll be right as rain. You'll see!"
I find myself nodding. There's nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all. Just a wee bit o' dust in the old Tuesti gears. 'S fine. We're not crazy. A smidge tired and overworked, but not a complete loon and-
Oh no. Those aren't my thoughts. Just shut up. Cut the jibber-jabbering and get out of my damned head!
Ah, this is a bit overdue, I suppose. The Tuesti name is associated with many great minds. Shinra's own family of geniuses. Shinra's own family of stark raving madmen.
I'm unsure if it is genetic or environmental. But, every Tuesti under Shinra has eventually snapped. Sanity. A small price to pay just to keep that corporate heart beating. Not like anyone really discusses it. Just another fact, covered up and tossed in someone's desk drawer.
Damn it, why didn't I listen? Ma warned me about this. But I insisted. Having my own cushy office was too good to pass up. I wanted to plan street layouts, play with mechanical toys, and slowly drown under endless paperwork. A rip roaring good choice, Reeve. Really mucked things up, didn't ya?
Well, lads… if this is the fall of yet another Tuesti, might as well go out with a bang. Let's give 'em one last show. One they won't soon forget!
***
Evidently, I have lost control of my life. And my mind. My only real asset.
The evaluation itself is another concerning blank in my memory. Well, except for the feeling of my fortune cards digging into my nervous fingers. They're still tucked neatly into my inner suit pocket.
I fully expected to be in a sterile, padded Shinra psych room. Instead, I'm back in my office. That's... Good. And a bit suspicious.
Everything seems to be as I left it. My desk is still an official Shinra disaster zone, stacked high with Sector 7 rebuilding permits. I catch my reflection in one of my large office windows. All the panic from before, evaporated. I'm at the peak of outward composure. For once, I look well rested. There's even a conveniently placed glass of water on my desk for my now raspy throat.
Oh no, what did I do? What did HE do? The clues have to be nearby.
I open my email inbox first. To my surprise, my full evaluation report is already there, waiting for me. Odd. Typical Shinra bureaucracy moves at a glacial pace. It hasn't even been a full hour since I went to the medical wing.
With mounting trepidation, I open the report.
"Director Tuesti displays an exceptional amount of focus and commitment to the wider Shinra mission. His charming personality belies a very analytical mind, along with a sharp sense of humor. Very grounded, with good stress management skills.
In short, Reeve Tuesti is mentally sound and fit to continue his Urban Planning duties for the foreseeable future."
I… what? Perhaps I'm not the only one losing my mind. Seems I'm the only sane one left.
My outbox is just as baffling. It seems a rousing proposal for a Gold Saucer-style amusement park within city walls was sent out during my… little memory lapse. Well written and quite persuasive, in classic Tuesti style. Another way to increase revenue and cover Sector 7 construction costs. More worrying, it was quickly approved.
I scroll further. There are notated blueprints. The cleanest I've ever seen in all my time with Shinra. Flawless financial projections. Citations regarding pending revisions to Midgar building code.
The damned robotic cat that I created is somehow better at my job than me!
Perhaps quitting is in the cards for me. Leave behind all the corporate nonsense and move back to the countryside. Someone else will get to deal with this mess.
Sigh. No. My kind heart won't allow it. And Tuestis don't quit. Guess I'm committed to the bit now.
Trigger warnings: Implied genocide/mass casualty, religious fanaticism, loss of humanity.
Sephiroth. General. Soldier. Hero.
Titles I did not ask for. Meaningless human accolades. Artifacts of my past that are of no consequence to me anymore. I have grown beyond Shinra. Beyond their needless politics, titles, and rules. Beyond humanity and all that comes with it.
The truth at Nibelheim was the key. The veil before my eyes was lifted. My anger was a misguided waste of time. The slate must be wiped clean. The planet screams, and I am its savior. A glorious Reunion is coming.
My willing hands belong to Mother now. For the first time, I am free.
Redid an older piece to try out a more painterly style.
Old version is on the right.
Bonus flavor text: A magic mushroom lamp, Dwarven in origin. Made from smooth copper panels and expertly connected wires, this lamp adds a whimsical air to any home!
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