Death Looks Good On You
Feb. 5th, 2009 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crankyoldmanFandom: FF7:BC (AU)
Characters/Pairings: Veld/Ifalna
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Turk as prisoner, Cetra as guard.
Notes: Prompt was "role reversal" so this was produced! Forastralavator.
Veld has to admit, death looks good on her.
Nature takes as much as it gives, and he'd only seen the giving side of her and he can see why he'd only seen that side before. Ifalna is terrifying if a person isn't used to killer instincts, like he is. What he isn't used to is being the captive, which is what he is right now. He half expects some scientist to come out and start poking him in a bizarre parody of reality.
Some people take environmentalism a little... literally, it seems.
"You know they're not going to kill you, you're at least a good bargaining chip." This odd pseudo-professionalism also looks good on her. To think that until a few days ago she was nice lady with an unnatural attachment to plants.
"So is the sword just for show or can you use it?" He's become strangely comfortable with the situation--he hasn't seen an exit, and his guard is attractive at least.
"If you think that's going to distract me and you're going to charm your way out of your cell, you're mistaken." It's obvious she finds it amusing, it's not like they weren't friendly before, when he was sure they were on the same side of things.
"Well how am I supposed to entertain myself?"
She tosses him a pencil. Well, it's a start.
---
"No windows, one door, large guy, well, I certainly know what this room is for. Might I offer some professional advice?"
Veld's inner street urchin always seems to crop up when he's about to get his ass handed to him, and the large guy they've thrown him in with seems to have less of a sense of humor than most of the people he's gotten into fights with over the years. After a week in a cell with various guards, not always the lovely Ifalna, he's almost looking forward to it.
Veld ducks the first punch. It's one of those times he's glad for being short.
"Torture is a terrible method of information extraction."
---
At some point, he was unconscious. It's disorienting now, with his vision fuzzy, but he focuses on something long, brown, and curly.
"He~ey Iffy," he says, almost convincingly casual, like he is coming to see her for a movie. She's close enough to the bars that he can smell something pleasant, which has to be her.
"They said you weren't very cooperative, Velly."
"Didn't ask nicely."
He isn't worried. His partner will come around eventually and bail him out. It's half the reason Turks have partners, so they can get bailed out. It's his job.
In the meantime, it's nice to have an attractive guard. She reaches in to pat him, and if he wasn't sure parts of him were a little on the broken side, he might use that, but she's smart enough to keep her weapon far out of his reach.
"Just answer their questions and you'll be let out soon enough."
---
He doesn't start to worry until they start using the chemicals. He doesn't really start to worry until he sees Ifalna take down another prison as he escapes. At least he knows that she knows how to use it.
---
"You know, you're really starting to look like hell," she says, more pity than insult. Whatever they were using on him to get information--whatever this information is--leaves him more drained even his training prepared him for.
He is really starting to wonder what's keeping his damn partner. I'm sorry, your princess is in another castle.
"I'll be sure to do my makeup next time you come around, sweetheart."
She always comes and sits right next to his cell, weapon always out of reach. He's past the point of escaping anyway, more just hoping to be rescued. To think he used to think of himself as something of a protector.
"You know, I don't agree with what they're doing. Shinra scum or no."
"Glad you've got a conscience, but it's not exactly helping me much here."
Since he's got nothing much to do besides think and be sarcastic, he's been piecing together how exactly he came into this predicament. Ifalna wasn't assigned to him, the square-jawed humorless amazon woman was that one. He couldn't blame his favorite guard, really. Duty and all that shit.
"Maybe some day."
---
When he dreams, he dreams of a little house and always waiting. She would open the door then, back from parts unknown.
---
He didn't realize he could walk until he was walking, and then he realized who he was leaning on. They were outside, it was night. He wanted to kiss her, no matter how Stockholm Syndrome that was.
"How do you--"
She covered his mouth.
"Talk later."
Veld stumbles a few times, which almost causes him to laugh. Bodies are such ridiculously frail things, after all.
He sees black shoes before he collapses pretty hard. She kneels down next to him, whispering something that could be either a prayer or a dirge.
"Where the fuck have you been?" he demands of the owner of the black shoes.
Ifalna holds his hand.
"Delayed."
He decides against dying, if only to properly reprimand someone.
---
She brings him books from her travels, his cane preventing him from going anywhere too far. Missing in Action turns out not to be so bad when a Cetra keeps you.
He does his best to keep her roses alive, in return.
Characters/Pairings: Veld/Ifalna
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Turk as prisoner, Cetra as guard.
Notes: Prompt was "role reversal" so this was produced! For
astralavator.Veld has to admit, death looks good on her.
Nature takes as much as it gives, and he'd only seen the giving side of her and he can see why he'd only seen that side before. Ifalna is terrifying if a person isn't used to killer instincts, like he is. What he isn't used to is being the captive, which is what he is right now. He half expects some scientist to come out and start poking him in a bizarre parody of reality.
Some people take environmentalism a little... literally, it seems.
"You know they're not going to kill you, you're at least a good bargaining chip." This odd pseudo-professionalism also looks good on her. To think that until a few days ago she was nice lady with an unnatural attachment to plants.
"So is the sword just for show or can you use it?" He's become strangely comfortable with the situation--he hasn't seen an exit, and his guard is attractive at least.
"If you think that's going to distract me and you're going to charm your way out of your cell, you're mistaken." It's obvious she finds it amusing, it's not like they weren't friendly before, when he was sure they were on the same side of things.
"Well how am I supposed to entertain myself?"
She tosses him a pencil. Well, it's a start.
---
"No windows, one door, large guy, well, I certainly know what this room is for. Might I offer some professional advice?"
Veld's inner street urchin always seems to crop up when he's about to get his ass handed to him, and the large guy they've thrown him in with seems to have less of a sense of humor than most of the people he's gotten into fights with over the years. After a week in a cell with various guards, not always the lovely Ifalna, he's almost looking forward to it.
Veld ducks the first punch. It's one of those times he's glad for being short.
"Torture is a terrible method of information extraction."
---
At some point, he was unconscious. It's disorienting now, with his vision fuzzy, but he focuses on something long, brown, and curly.
"He~ey Iffy," he says, almost convincingly casual, like he is coming to see her for a movie. She's close enough to the bars that he can smell something pleasant, which has to be her.
"They said you weren't very cooperative, Velly."
"Didn't ask nicely."
He isn't worried. His partner will come around eventually and bail him out. It's half the reason Turks have partners, so they can get bailed out. It's his job.
In the meantime, it's nice to have an attractive guard. She reaches in to pat him, and if he wasn't sure parts of him were a little on the broken side, he might use that, but she's smart enough to keep her weapon far out of his reach.
"Just answer their questions and you'll be let out soon enough."
---
He doesn't start to worry until they start using the chemicals. He doesn't really start to worry until he sees Ifalna take down another prison as he escapes. At least he knows that she knows how to use it.
---
"You know, you're really starting to look like hell," she says, more pity than insult. Whatever they were using on him to get information--whatever this information is--leaves him more drained even his training prepared him for.
He is really starting to wonder what's keeping his damn partner. I'm sorry, your princess is in another castle.
"I'll be sure to do my makeup next time you come around, sweetheart."
She always comes and sits right next to his cell, weapon always out of reach. He's past the point of escaping anyway, more just hoping to be rescued. To think he used to think of himself as something of a protector.
"You know, I don't agree with what they're doing. Shinra scum or no."
"Glad you've got a conscience, but it's not exactly helping me much here."
Since he's got nothing much to do besides think and be sarcastic, he's been piecing together how exactly he came into this predicament. Ifalna wasn't assigned to him, the square-jawed humorless amazon woman was that one. He couldn't blame his favorite guard, really. Duty and all that shit.
"Maybe some day."
---
When he dreams, he dreams of a little house and always waiting. She would open the door then, back from parts unknown.
---
He didn't realize he could walk until he was walking, and then he realized who he was leaning on. They were outside, it was night. He wanted to kiss her, no matter how Stockholm Syndrome that was.
"How do you--"
She covered his mouth.
"Talk later."
Veld stumbles a few times, which almost causes him to laugh. Bodies are such ridiculously frail things, after all.
He sees black shoes before he collapses pretty hard. She kneels down next to him, whispering something that could be either a prayer or a dirge.
"Where the fuck have you been?" he demands of the owner of the black shoes.
Ifalna holds his hand.
"Delayed."
He decides against dying, if only to properly reprimand someone.
---
She brings him books from her travels, his cane preventing him from going anywhere too far. Missing in Action turns out not to be so bad when a Cetra keeps you.
He does his best to keep her roses alive, in return.
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Date: 2009-02-06 11:53 am (UTC)