crimson-sun asked: Reeve - what were you doing and feeling at the moment Sector 7 was destroyed? Did that act, and those who were involved in executing it, particularly surprise you?
Hello again, Crimson Sun. Eli passes on warm regards… somewhat incomprehensibly, but I believe the persistent arm flapping indicates so.
I take it you are aware, as most are nowadays, that the destruction of Sector 7 was a pre-meditated choice made by one man under threat. It was a choice I stood against when it was raised and I was advised in no uncertain terms back then to take a break; a vacation away from the Company.
During the moment Sector 7 was destroyed however - I have no qualms admitting now - I was still very much in Midgar. Very few people were aware of that fact, but the last thing on Gaia I could do during the time a whole Sector of the City was destroyed was to sit back and sun myself.
Though, really, it was not through lack of trying by certain others.
Reeve scooped up his papers angrily, the large paw of the president still sensed upon his shoulder, warm and nauseating, even where it had left his frame moments before with a stiffly taut shrug. He gathered enough wits through the rare fug of rage that was clouding his mind to pardon himself at the end of the meeting and make quick his escape.
Blonde whiskers rolled in thought over a meaty lip to catch a Turk with orders after the rest of the Boardroom had left, “Ensure that Tuesti does as I advised.” Tseng merely nodded with a, “Yes, Sir,” face impassive, and walked out to seek for his temporary new charge.
The Turk had little compunction as to the order regards Sector Seven, unlike the Director of Urban Development, clearly, but he had his own misgivings on this next immediate duty. His misgivings proved right, as they usually did, for he could not find Reeve for nigh on a whole clear night.
It was in the morning mist that he found him, approached the other man as one would a skittish Chocobo, but Reeve merely glared at his attempt with an abrupt and warding, “Not a cat’s whisker chance in hell. You can take those airship tickets to Wutai and shove them up the Presidential arseholes for all I care to go.”
Tseng looked over Reeve, noting the tension underneath the words, the darkness hooding hazel eyes. The flash of anger that had been submitted in the boardroom had dissipated, but in its place was a simmering defiance, quiet but barely controlled.
“Interesting turn of phrase. Quite unlike you,” he replied, none of the sigh coating his thoughts quite reaching his tone.
“What’s unlike me, Tseng, is to sit idly back and not do something to limit-damage the consequences of such a decision!” Reeve squared his shoulders but a tremor was detectable in them as his volume raised, those hooded eyes were ringed with smudges of darkness, “I will not be sidelined when what little that can be done remains within my limited powers to do so.”
Tseng did let out a small sigh then, “How long have you gone without sleep?” The snort of derision from the other man was expected but he persisted, “Have you considered that the President was actually being genuine in his request of you? Out of the majority of Executives he regularly provides your Department with the greater share of the Gil. You are his investment, and as such, one he favours personally.”
The look that comment brokered could have almost been laughable but for the reply, hissed out on the breeze as Reeve’s tired brows knitted together, “Rufus favours me. And you know better than most - he does not care to share any weakness with his Father. No, no, you will not get me on that charge. Let me be.”
A wry smirk spread over the statuesque Turk’s lips; that strange ability to find or summon up dry humour regardless of situation, no matter how dark or desperate. It was a coping mechanism as drummed in to the man, alongside need to maintain appropriate distance.
“Reeve.” A light chuckle arose as he watched the twist of features on the other Director’s face from surprise of the intimate use of name, “If anybody could curry favour with both Shinra, I would put my wager on you. To be so in-offensively productive, flying under the radar of either man’s pride. It’s a skill you possess.”
“My skill?” Unlike the ever-present and centred calm that marked the Turk, ire was resurfacing as the Director of Urban Development spat back, “My skill, Tseng, is to build things, to fix things, to make improvements. Not to become even more of a favoured plaything for Presidents!”
“Do you really care to play another type of game?” Tseng started but pulled back; a reminder to maintain appropriate distance in mind. Reeve’s features broke, tightness fracturing to implore, even as he kept a lowered tone, “This is not a game and there would be no need for any plays if you don’t block me right now. Go back to the Tower, report this mission a success. We both know how you have gone against a President’s orders before.”
Tseng could not help but stiffen slightly at that, the mirthful twist of lips flattening out. Trust Reeve to bring it around to that reminder, curry favour for favour, like the canny cat he was. Yet it seemed the softly spoken man was not finished, “Or does it only matter when it is someone close to you?”
That was more of a personal jibe and one the Turk was equipped to respond to, quick and cold, “As opposed to the alternative?” Tseng gestured over Reeve, mocking sweeping into his voice, “You can barely stand right now, Sir. No man can function with the weight of a thousand souls clamoured upon his shoulders. Especially a Turk.”
“Yet we can save more than just two lives here. A few have gotten clear already, but I can’t spread panic and I can’t continue to help the paltry few whilst holed up on a beach, or in a cell…” It was that moment Reeve decided to step forwards; eradicating that carefully placed distance, “If not for the others, then, do so for me.”
For the man who does not forget his favours, that takes on the weight of thousands as natural as the pains of one. For the man who has followed orders to the letter and defied them without trace, that dreams as easily as gets things finished no matter the sacrifice.
For the man who continues to breach that distance.
“Before you give the order to your Turks, Tseng.”
As to what I felt then, during the actual destruction? The sounds of the metal screams were deafening; hundreds, thousands, still perished under the plate that I myself had placed there. Families were being torn apart, the City was being torn apart.
To know I had hand in deciding who should live and who should die, wrecked under my own destroyed creation…
Nothing can quite describe my feelings during that time.
I was not surprised, Crimson Sun, though I must admit to increased anger when the President refused the plans to rebuild. Sector 6 was never finished and Sector 7 was left to fester alongside it, like a wound that never healed. A constant reminder until further events completed the job in its entirety.
[[ooc: I was going to write a secondary piece but as that took longer than expected, you’ll have to wait to read about Reeve punching Tseng. Hopefully I will write it someday.]]
- apathetic-ruler likes this
- kahlannightwing likes this
- albedosoyna likes this
- turkleader said: There were never any easy decisions, were there? Or was it rather that the decisions were easy—but the man… simply, purely—did not care enough to make them, or was too comfortable in his own situation to do so? Either way„, it was weakness.
- tseng-san likes this
- spiritthatdenies likes this
- ablackwing likes this
- soldierandscientist likes this
- sanguinesaint likes this
- crimson-sun likes this
- sonofseto likes this
- ask-reeve posted this