It seemed that even being near death, duty still called. With a soft nod of his head, Vincent watched the Turk as he moved around with flames of the fire dancing in his crimson eyes. “We aren’t here for you to heal.” He deadpanned, throwing a glance to the blonde on the bed who was far worse off than he currently was given his pacing and eagerness to get back into the fray.
It was the question regarding the phone that made Vincent stand to full height, shadows following him as he moved closer to the brunette and leaning against the bed post. Mismatched arms crossing over his chest, he narrowed his eyes and hid the smirk behind the tall mantle. This Turk was smart, he could see it. But he wondered if he realized that the President thinking they were dead would give them an upper hand in whatever was about to happen.
“With you dead…they’ll never see you when you come.” He stated matter-of-factly. Also, a haunting answer to No I don’t have a phone. I use carrier pigeon. “You can still work…just work on being able to hold her up. Because when you do leave here, she will need you.” Another message of because I won’t be here to help you once you leave his place.
Darkened eyes settled back on the brunette as he moved, gingerly to settle next to Elena and the fire. Vincent stepped away to let him have more warmth as he threw another log on the fire. There was a moment of tenderness in the way the Turk covered his comrade with his tattered coat. Frowning Vincent pulled his gaze away, bitterness and anger rising in his chest at the simple gesture. It wasn’t Tseng’s fault; he wasn’t alive back then. However, it still hurt. Even after all these years.
“I know where I can find a mastered Cura.” Vincent said softly, a little hint of that old venom still on his tongue. “You need to stay here with her. If you leave…I’ll hunt you down and shoot you myself.” With a flourish of his cloak, he opened the door to the cottage and glanced back at the Turk who still sat there. “I’ll bring food for when she wakes.” And on those words, he left. The old shack shook loose dirt as he slammed shut the door and left to steal back some materia.
Bravery or foolishness? Tseng wondered briefly which vice had been the end of Vincent Valentine. Turks could not afford mistakes, the mission always had to be first priority above even one’s own life.
Yet, Tseng himself had a vice, perhaps the worst one a Turk could bear, a weak heart. Looking to the sleeping figure of Elena, thinking of Rufus. Sitting here waiting for his body to mend enough to function. Once upon a time the Turks had been powerful. They had been a top company resource with enough funding to leave Palmer drooling in his office at the thought of commandeering it.
In a moment of anger and resentment of the past he grimaced.
Now the Turks had nothing, Shinra had nothing, nothing but Jenova’s bloody head between them and the entire world’s collapse. Yet here Tseng was, selfishly thinking of Rufus, not the mission. Thinking of the life of a coworker over the lives of all of Gaia. Knowing all too intimately how Sephiroth could destroy life in a mere instant.
Tseng missed power and control.
Now he sat on the floor without even a fucking cellphone or gil to his name.
Still, Tseng silently allowed the older ex-Turk to leave without speaking his mind. There was no use in yelling at one’s elders. The sea does not move for one fish. He was almost tempted to pray to Leviathan. Not for his sake, Tseng didn’t deserve prayers for the kind of man he was. But Elena was young and impulsive, Rufus needed to live.
Tseng waited as Vincent asked. Yet, the activity he chose wasn’t perhaps what one would have expected. Finding some old paper in the abandoned room, Tseng at least still had a working pen on his person. The letter was simple, a will and testament. He had a more formal version drafted up in the office. But this, was more personal. Entirely written in Wutaian and addressed to one, Rufus Shinra. If this was to be a final mission, Tseng would not leave it with regrets and words unsaid.
When Vincent finally returned he held up the letter from his resting spot. “Give it to him, should I fail the mission.”
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
janainaart
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
titsay
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
