Wheee, I'm updating.
Boo, I'm the update consists only of slightly angsty yet rather important for future stories dialogue.
I do wonder what happened to the BC Turks, though. Seriously. They better have a convincing explanation. Or I'll choke a bitch. Or something. Anyway. I'm almost done with the story after this, which, hopefully, is better.
And I'm pimping the Gunshot Romance names, as is karose and a few others are for the BC Turks. Just because I can.
Title: Buried in Snow (after a FFVII song, yes. I'm so original.)
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII; after Advent Children.
Rating: PG-14 merely for reasons of profanity.
Word Count and time taken: 1,031
Commentary: Beta is appreciated.
"Fine, sir. As soon as I remove my bike from four feet of snow. "
"....Ah, yes, I thought you might. Thank you. Good day."
Tseng closed his cell phone and smiled slightly in Elena's direction--that is, on the couch in Tseng's living room. Outside, it was snowing and snowing hard as it had been since four in the morning when Elena'd woken up to deal with the trash and discovered she couldn't get the frickin' back door open. Tseng had woken up shortly after and made an attempt, too--but the snow was piling up like papers on Reeve's neglected desk (damn him, always causing more work for the Turks with his absence) and if they couldn't even get the back door open there was no way they'd be able to dig out Tseng's bike, let alone get it down the street. Rufus had of course called to bitch--Tseng had just won a verbal spat with him.
"Is it me or is it really cold in here?" Elena queried. The apartment was usually cold of course, it wasn't exactly Shin-ra employee housing and that wasn't saying much at all but at least those had been warm, but it was decidedly more frigid then usual.
"Yes, it is" replied Tseng, in his usual noncommittal way. "Put on a sweater."
Elena nodded. "I'll be right back; I'm going to go change."
Elena returned a few moments later in looser, warmer clothing, with a shirt whose sleeves fell down almost to her fingertips. She felt a little slouchy, but it was too cold to worry about that. Tseng was in the kitchen making tea like he always did in the mornings on weekends, so Elena left to her own devices went to the neglected bookshelf.
"You have a lot of books, Tseng."
"They're dusty..." She ran a finger along the tops of the books on the top shelf. "Haven't you been reading them?"
"Not those." He poked his head out of the kitchen, kettle and one of his queer handleless teacups in hand, "Those are old books of mine. Had them around for quite a while."
"Huh... This looks interesting..." She tugged a book free, only to dislodge another, rather small, tomb that had been placed on the tops of other books rather then shelved properly.
"Elena, be careful!" He exited the kitchen with his tea and sat down on the couch. Elena picked up the smaller book to return it, but as she went to do so, several pages and a photograph fluttered to the ground.
"Some of the pages..." Elena picked up the book and the yellowed pages and and carefully deposited them in Tseng's lap. The words on the page were marked with pointed and hard handwriting, she noted, the original text as well as the notes not being in the common language's script, but in...
"Is that Wutasian?"
"Yes. It's an old book of mine. Don't worry about it, the pages fell out long ago. ... Something is missing..."
"Is this it, Tseng?" She held up the old, creased photograph.
Tseng took it from her, face twitching but voice calmer. "Yes. Thank you."
"Who are they?" She flopped down next to him to examine the image he held in his hands.
"Oh, is that you?!" In the middle, off to the side, was indeed Tseng; younger, smoother face, hair shorter and tied back, but unmistakably him.
"And that's Reno and Rude, isn't it!" Rude had no facial hair and was noticeably younger. Reno looked like he did now-- how he managed that, she didn't know, the way he treated himself. She knew that hair was fake...
"And who's he?"
Tseng's expression hardened and seemed to mist over; he looked away from her and stared at the blank wall hard for a moment before answering.
"Veld. My old boss."
"I've... Never even heard of him."
"He was mostly in charge of getting things done, not doing them. Veld was not very well known to common people outside of Shin-ra. I believe he liked it that way...And after..."
Elena shifted with no small amount of discomfort, realizing how uncomfortable Tseng was with the subject.
"And...?" She pointed to the row of people standing behind Tseng and Veld.
"...Saint, Samantha, Durman, Rafe, Cyr and..."
"...Rosalind." The blonde-haired women with the perfect uniform and posture, eyes piercing as a single evergreen on a snowy field even in the faded old photograph, proud, serious, conservative hint of a smile. She looked like a prettier, more refined version of Elena, to her anyway. Elena had always wanted to be her; the resemblance was unintentional, but in attitude, she had strived to become her since day one of Shin-ra, even in the lowest ranks.
He nodded. "That's right. All of them were Turks before you."
"I idolized Rosalind when I was a child... She dropped away from sight by the time I moved from a Shin-ra grunt and joined SOLDIER... What happened to her, and to them?"
Tseng's eyes regained a faraway look, but a distinctly sadder--Tseng, sad? -- one. Elena regretted asking, and looked down at her jagged nails.
"Hmmm." He was looking away from her now, head propped on his hands, photograph held limply in his hand, book forgotten in his lap, lost in thought
"Tseng...? Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
"It's nothing. Nothing you did, anyway." He got up gathering the book and photograph together and wordlessly left Elena sitting terribly confused while he retreated to his bedroom, door sliding shut and lock clicking behind it.
What had upset him so much, anyway? Who was Veld aside from the former Turk leader, and why, even as a Turk, had she hardly even heard of him?
And what had happened to Rosalind and the rest? Reno had certainly never mentioned them, even blind fucking off his ass drunk like only Reno could become without passing out, not a word about any Turk save himself and sometimes Rude. Is that what happened if you died when you were a Turk? Did they never speak of you again?
Sometimes, she still felt like a total rookie.
Note: Rosalind. And the others. Gunshot Romance, currently the Before Crisis site uses them to refer to the BC Turks as they have no default names. Rosalind is the blonde Elenalike one with the nice rack on the promotional poster. ... What? She does. 0_o; As for Elena's idolizing Rosalind as a child/teen... I thought, sure, why not? I usually hate it when people do totally unrealistic stuff to character's pasts, but it seemed to fit Elena's personality at least somewhat, and heh, she could have.
I'm going be be annoyed if on the other hand Rosalind turns out to be Elena's sister/mother/aunt four times removed on her brother's side and I have to come back and edit it. Ergh.
And, Elena in SOLDIER... I've never seen anyone probe this before. When I've poked around in that subject, I've had her be a SOLDIER specialist of some sort. She was something quite high-ranking at any rate, to have been promoted to the Turks, and probably beyond or in a different section from SOLDIER first class; it's totally unexplained in the game.
Anyway. Enjoy if possible. Throw squisie things/Writing instruction books if not.