Reno (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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towerofanimus2013-10-20 01:19 pm
midgarhorizon) wrote in towerofanimus2013-10-20 01:19 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Characters: Reno, Open et ctra
Setting: Art Gallery, Morgue, Study/Research Hall, Gym, Pool; across several different days, just read the prompts.
Format: Whichever
Summary:
Considering past actions that no longer really affect him. Swimming around in the pool for a break. Responsibility has a habit of changing people, a lot. Getting stuck in the morgue. Running barefoot.
Warnings: Claustrophobia, mild warnings for descriptive horror content, Reno's own personal brand of swearing. Also, a screen cap of post-fall Sector 7.
Thursday, Oct 17th: Floor 22 - Art Gallery
Mapping out a detailed floor plan, floor by floor, was a lot more time consuming than Reno wanted to admit. After that fiasco the other day though, he and his sternum didn't really feel much like trying to train physically. Elena had left a nasty bruise and chest pains where she hit him. A few centimeters either way, and a little bit harder, and she could have killed him. He was half convinced she had when it landed. All in all, pain notwithstanding, he was pretty proud of her for that little drama act she had put on for Sephiroth, even if it did wind up with him in the infirmary for hours.
Responsibility was weighing heavy on his shoulders lately. Being the Director, the Chief, whatever you wanted to call it now, was full of the stuff. He was truly beginning to feel it, recruiting the new people and trying to organize what they were doing. His family was growing, and there was no Rusty, no Tseng, and no Rufus to share the burdens. And Elena... Well. Floor mapping was important for the things he had planned. Drills, exercises, and task forces would all need a good understanding of the Tower and the floors it contained. Putting it all down on paper was what he had been doing the past few weeks anyway, walking up and down the Tower. Shion wouldn't need the maps after he memorized them, and he figured the kid probably knew more than anyone, but now that their ranks were growing it was going to be harder keeping everyone on the same page. So the downtime let him get a jump on the work for now. No big dealuntil he got Elena alone for that disciplinary training session because there is no way he's going to let her off the hook that easy.
He was on Floor 22 right now, and stopped to take a break. It'd been a while since he had been in a museum. Aside from that time he found Elena, showing off for her before the wedding, the last time... when was the last time? Some vague recollection of playing bodyguard for a day while some of the higher ups went gallivanting around Midgar. Paintings weren't really his thing, but the further he went into this floor, the more familiar the images became.
Then the paintings started to change. A wrong turn, and he came face to face with a painting of the Turks. All of them were sitting at the bar Elena had been working in. Even Veld and Tseng had made it down for the group shot, enjoying a quite drink in the corner. It had been when everything made sense. When it was all normal and they still had a home with ShinRa. Before their "betrayal" that had them hunted down like dogs. He recognized the image, it used to be one from his wallet lost long ago, but there was something... different about this. Staring at it, it slowly dawned on him that they were glaring at him.
No. Not glaring. They had no eyes, Their eyes had been plucked out and blood was running down their faces, hands outstretched as if to plead with him to find their eyes and return them. His mouth dropped open and he took a step back, unable to stop looking at them. A kind of slow, mounting horror rose until he finally did turn and cough into his hand. That seemed to break the spell, and he moved away to leave, but he made the mistake of looking up again.
This time, it was a painting of Midgar; the viewpoint from Sector 6, standing at the edge and looking down at a freshly dropped Sector 7. The steam and smoke still rose from the red-hot metal, buildings broken apart where they had toppled over, and bodies littered the streets. He got closer, fascinated in a morbid way, and squinted a little bit to see better. Every little detail was there, painted in perfect detail with almost microscopic brush strokes. Little people hanging at the edge of Sector 6 and more on Sector 8 just visible across the way, looking down at the rubble. The bodies below were just as detailed, blood and limbs and twisted mangled messes.
His work.
Yet, he didn't feel the shame any more. No guilt. Just curiosity of what it might have been like seeing the sky fall on top of you. He did not feel much of anything about it, and that was a far cry from when he had been in the hospital, where his room looked down on the same scene. A little voice inside his head told him he should feel something. Reno of the Turks should feel guilty. He had done this terrible thing to an entire town underneath the city. The city itself. How dare he not feel anything? It wasn't right. His lips parted briefly, wanting to laugh at the voice, but not quite having the courage to do so. The little voice was right, but maybe he's beaten himself up over it once too often to care what he thought of himself.
No, that's wrong. There's still something he felt looking at this painting. The regret was the same. The little voice silenced itself at the realization. The innocents were still innocent. They were just people going about their busy lives, but they would have died anyway. If not him, then the white light that had destroyed everything; that had brought him here. The Tower was a fitting enough punishment for this crime. The regret really was enough. If he hadn't pushed the button, Scarlet would have gassed the three Turks left standing.
Maybe he could have saved all of them, that way.
Friday, Oct 18: Floor 7 - Pool
It's been a while since he got the chance to swim. Taking it easy for the past couple days wasn't so bad, and once in a while he did really need a break. Reno was floating on his back in the shallower end of the gigantic pool, relaxing a little bit. It sure wasn't the hot springs up above, but it's been way too long since he had a chance to just splash around for a while.
Splashing around... the last time had been when Rusty was here. Reno slapped at the water, rolling himself over so he could see beneath him. The water didn't bother his eyes much, but he wouldn't have minded his goggles just then. It seemed like he kept thinking about Rusty. Wondering what had happened to him. Knowing the poor guy's luck, he was probably wandering around in Boat World, visiting graves of his friends. He had mentioned that, hadn't he? About burying Rude and Tseng. Frustrating, that was what it was. He never could help him. What did it say about Reno if he couldn't even help himself? Lot of good this whole stupid damn thing was. Who was he kidding, thinking he could try to save the Tower and send everyone back home?
They probably would never get back home, at this rate. It was just one failure after another. Except for Sector 7. That had been a pretty spectacular way to fulfill a mission. He'd lost count of the times he had failed- they had failed because of Cloud, not that he held it against the guy or anythingat least not much any more. But it did make him want to shove dirty gym socks down people's throats when they started mouthing off back home. Scarlet with a few dozen pairs in that big gab of hers wasn't a bad image.
Enough yapping, Reno. Let's get some waves in. Lifting his head out of the water, he took a deep breath, then dove under the water. His goal was to touch bottom before he ran out of breath, but he wasn't going to hold it against himself if he couldn't.
Saturday, Oct 19, Morning: Floor 18 - Study Hall
Saturday morning was filled with another disappointing meal of pumpkin, a light jog around the Meadow to clear his head, and then a trip down to the Research Library. An idea had occurred to Reno the other day, something sort of obvious it might have bit him if it hadn't hit him in the head first. This was a library full of all sorts of subjects. He knew his way around pretty well after all that checking through he had done in the first few months of his stay here. There were books that might be able to help him.
Walking through the stacks with purpose, his Raven uniform fitting as well as ever (and damn the thing), until he came to the appropriate section. Blue eyes trailed over the titles from behind the red visor, seeking out one or two in particular. He made a "Heh!" of triumph when he spotted one, pulling it out. It was labelled "Effective Leadership In Military Situations" and probably would be just about right. Sure, he wasn't military, despite the uniform, but good advice was good advice, and there was no way he was going to ask any of these wingnuts here in the Tower. That could get compromising.
Taking the large textbook with him, he headed downstairs to the Study Hall and got comfortable at a desk, leaning back and resting his legs up on the surface. It was a pretty thick book, so he had no illusions he would even get through it before the day, much less before lunch.
At least it was quiet enough.
Sunday, Oct 20, Late Afternoon: Floor 26 - Morgue - Closed to one
Sitting in the library, Reno was dressed in his one pair of civvies today. The ones he shared with Shion. Black suited him, and he really didn't want to have to explain anything in case someone he didn't want snooping around caught him in his Turk suit. That was for later. This afternoon, he was ignoring that vague feeling he should be doing something about that note he had gotten earlier, and trying to get some more work done before heading up to his meeting with Elena. Reno was trying to create copies of some of the maps he has been making of the floors. It's going fairly well, even if he does have to use a straight edge to clean some of these markings up. Reno was a lot of things, but not an artist, musician, baker or taxidermist. Maps were a little different though; some missions needed maps on the fly and he had learned the skill the same way, not that they were stellar pieces of art. It didn't hurt taking some pride in his work, though, so that's why the second drafts were taking a little bit of time.
Unfortunately, he didn't see the Rupee hiding in the small box of pencils until too late. This particular detail required a pencil with a sharp tip, so he dipped his hand inside only for the damn thing to bite him and vanished. And so did his EMR.
"Shit..." He cussed under his breath, damning Leviathan's scaly hide to tango with Ifrit for a while, and pulled his maps together in a neat pile. Theoretically nobody should touch them while they were sitting looking important on a library table, so he got up and headed to the staircase. He really hated this part. Rupees were a damned annoying nuisance, and every time he encountered one, he was pretty sorry for it.
Stomping up the staircase, he glowered across each floor. Those damn things liked to torment him, placing items in a just out of reach spot, but nothing too hidden. That wouldn't be sporting. This time, he didn't have far to go, reaching the morgue and spotting his EMR resting peacefully on one of the morgue draws.
That just so happened to be fully rolled out and open.
Hm.
Eyes narrowing to just blue pinpricks, he stepped off the staircase, glancing side to side. The hazards on this floor were fairly minimal, but that didn't mean it was impossible to run into something here. The damn place gave him enough chills as it was, just walking by on the staircase. Slowly, he approached the shelf, keeping an eye out for any surprises.
As he reached for the EMR, it rolled back a few feet, as if it had been attached to fishing line. Frowning, Reno stepped a little bit closer, though some instinct told him to hang back. Irritation rose. No damned Rupee or whatever they were called was going to get the best of him. Moving quickly, he grabbed for the EMR.
And then something grabbed him, pulling him on the shelf and inside head first. The shelf rolled back into the refrigerated unit, and the door slammed closed with a final clicking.
Reno froze for half a minute, immersed in darkness and the far too enclosed spacing, shocked at what had just happened. The EMR in his hand started tapping against the brushed steel inside- no, that was his hand shaking. The sound was enough to bring him back to reality just long enough for the screaming to start.
The first scream was blood curdling, torn out of his throat so hard it hurt. "LET ME OUT! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" The shrieks sounded hollow in the tiny confines, too loud too loud-- it was making his ears ring. Panic rose and overrode any survival instinct he still had, his boots slamming into the door with no result except denting the metal. All too soon, his screaming became inarticulate. Hoarse. The minutes dragged on and though he was screaming, SCREAMING at the top of his lungs, his throat felt tight and his lungs burned for oxygen.
Nobody was around, nobody would find him. He was stuck stuck. Trapped, in a cage. Cage. Nobody would come for him or save him, he'd be stuck here forever and starve to death. He was going to die in here.
Floor 39
Running - Saturday Afternoon
The jog on the meadow earlier had felt good. Really good. Good enough that he returned the book he had been studying and came up to the Gym. Nobody was there for the moment, but he made a sweeping check just in case before sitting down next to the track and removing his boots and gloves. The headgear came off next, stashed neatly next to the other items. It'd been a long time since he ran just for the sake of running, and he was hoping his feet weren't too out of condition for it.
Reno massaged the bottom of both feet for a minute or two before standing up. Oh, right... the belt and the pauldron. Making a face, he dropped those as well. Who the hell came up with the entire one pauldron idea, anyway? It looked stupid.
Feeling a bit more free, he stretched out a bit before walking out on to the track, getting the feel with his feet. They didn't seem too badly off, if he started slowly. For the first half of the track, he walked, slowly building up speed to where he could break into a jog at the mark. Another half of the track, and he bolted. Feet pounded into the floor, the smooth track cool against them, the shock vibrating up through his arches. He started grinning, feeling the wind in his hair. It felt good to let everything out. This had always been what he most wanted to do. Just to run.
Elena - Sunday Night - Closed
Reno adjusted the cuff of his suit, straightening it and the entire arm out so it wouldn't wrinkle up. After that... incident earlier, he almost wanted to call it off, but being a Turk took precedence. The change of clothes was quick, though this time he took the extra effort of prying the tie that went with this particular suit out of the hidden inside pocket and wore it. He might have also tucked in his shirt and zipped up the blazer, but who was paying attention? He wasn't, and when it dawned on him he had done it almost automatically, he shook his head. Well, the chief had always wanted him to wear the damn thing properly. Might as well start doing it now. Reno was the chief now... he had to set examples.
When did he start caring about examples?
Trying very hard not to let it get to him, he sat down on one of the weight stations and waited for Elena to show. She would, of course. There was no doubt in his mind she would ignore a summons like that, not when he went the extra effort to make it sound all professional.
Shion and Diarmuid - Monday - 0900 - Closed (forward dated a bit)
This was the meeting place they had specified. Reno had dragged Shion down to the gym this morning. To say it didn't chafe a bit that he had to even turn Shion over to someone else for a while would be a lie, and it did chafe. Shion's welfare was more important than Reno's ego, however, and he couldn't justify making the kid try things they had already tried before. It was time for outside resources, something he didn't have as easy access to in the Tower.
Reno was leaning against the wall in his Raven uniform, arms folded and glancing over at the kid every so often. The visor was down, so whatever he was thinking about wasn't immediately apparent.
Catchall for Candy Paranoia - Week of the 20th - 26th
The intensifying, nagging feelings that had plagued him all that first day only got harder to ignore, but in some ragged depths Reno held on. He was determined not to play Ruana's stupid game. He went about in practically only his Raven uniform, hiding his face from even those closest to him.
You may be able to encounter him in the common areas, or hiding out in one of the outdoors or the Upper Tower.
This prompt has increasing warnings of high paranoia, fear, and potential violence the later into the week.
Setting: Art Gallery, Morgue, Study/Research Hall, Gym, Pool; across several different days, just read the prompts.
Format: Whichever
Summary:
Considering past actions that no longer really affect him. Swimming around in the pool for a break. Responsibility has a habit of changing people, a lot. Getting stuck in the morgue. Running barefoot.
Warnings: Claustrophobia, mild warnings for descriptive horror content, Reno's own personal brand of swearing. Also, a screen cap of post-fall Sector 7.
Thursday, Oct 17th: Floor 22 - Art Gallery
Mapping out a detailed floor plan, floor by floor, was a lot more time consuming than Reno wanted to admit. After that fiasco the other day though, he and his sternum didn't really feel much like trying to train physically. Elena had left a nasty bruise and chest pains where she hit him. A few centimeters either way, and a little bit harder, and she could have killed him. He was half convinced she had when it landed. All in all, pain notwithstanding, he was pretty proud of her for that little drama act she had put on for Sephiroth, even if it did wind up with him in the infirmary for hours.
Responsibility was weighing heavy on his shoulders lately. Being the Director, the Chief, whatever you wanted to call it now, was full of the stuff. He was truly beginning to feel it, recruiting the new people and trying to organize what they were doing. His family was growing, and there was no Rusty, no Tseng, and no Rufus to share the burdens. And Elena... Well. Floor mapping was important for the things he had planned. Drills, exercises, and task forces would all need a good understanding of the Tower and the floors it contained. Putting it all down on paper was what he had been doing the past few weeks anyway, walking up and down the Tower. Shion wouldn't need the maps after he memorized them, and he figured the kid probably knew more than anyone, but now that their ranks were growing it was going to be harder keeping everyone on the same page. So the downtime let him get a jump on the work for now. No big deal
He was on Floor 22 right now, and stopped to take a break. It'd been a while since he had been in a museum. Aside from that time he found Elena, showing off for her before the wedding, the last time... when was the last time? Some vague recollection of playing bodyguard for a day while some of the higher ups went gallivanting around Midgar. Paintings weren't really his thing, but the further he went into this floor, the more familiar the images became.
Then the paintings started to change. A wrong turn, and he came face to face with a painting of the Turks. All of them were sitting at the bar Elena had been working in. Even Veld and Tseng had made it down for the group shot, enjoying a quite drink in the corner. It had been when everything made sense. When it was all normal and they still had a home with ShinRa. Before their "betrayal" that had them hunted down like dogs. He recognized the image, it used to be one from his wallet lost long ago, but there was something... different about this. Staring at it, it slowly dawned on him that they were glaring at him.
No. Not glaring. They had no eyes, Their eyes had been plucked out and blood was running down their faces, hands outstretched as if to plead with him to find their eyes and return them. His mouth dropped open and he took a step back, unable to stop looking at them. A kind of slow, mounting horror rose until he finally did turn and cough into his hand. That seemed to break the spell, and he moved away to leave, but he made the mistake of looking up again.
This time, it was a painting of Midgar; the viewpoint from Sector 6, standing at the edge and looking down at a freshly dropped Sector 7. The steam and smoke still rose from the red-hot metal, buildings broken apart where they had toppled over, and bodies littered the streets. He got closer, fascinated in a morbid way, and squinted a little bit to see better. Every little detail was there, painted in perfect detail with almost microscopic brush strokes. Little people hanging at the edge of Sector 6 and more on Sector 8 just visible across the way, looking down at the rubble. The bodies below were just as detailed, blood and limbs and twisted mangled messes.
His work.
Yet, he didn't feel the shame any more. No guilt. Just curiosity of what it might have been like seeing the sky fall on top of you. He did not feel much of anything about it, and that was a far cry from when he had been in the hospital, where his room looked down on the same scene. A little voice inside his head told him he should feel something. Reno of the Turks should feel guilty. He had done this terrible thing to an entire town underneath the city. The city itself. How dare he not feel anything? It wasn't right. His lips parted briefly, wanting to laugh at the voice, but not quite having the courage to do so. The little voice was right, but maybe he's beaten himself up over it once too often to care what he thought of himself.
No, that's wrong. There's still something he felt looking at this painting. The regret was the same. The little voice silenced itself at the realization. The innocents were still innocent. They were just people going about their busy lives, but they would have died anyway. If not him, then the white light that had destroyed everything; that had brought him here. The Tower was a fitting enough punishment for this crime. The regret really was enough. If he hadn't pushed the button, Scarlet would have gassed the three Turks left standing.
Maybe he could have saved all of them, that way.
Friday, Oct 18: Floor 7 - Pool
It's been a while since he got the chance to swim. Taking it easy for the past couple days wasn't so bad, and once in a while he did really need a break. Reno was floating on his back in the shallower end of the gigantic pool, relaxing a little bit. It sure wasn't the hot springs up above, but it's been way too long since he had a chance to just splash around for a while.
Splashing around... the last time had been when Rusty was here. Reno slapped at the water, rolling himself over so he could see beneath him. The water didn't bother his eyes much, but he wouldn't have minded his goggles just then. It seemed like he kept thinking about Rusty. Wondering what had happened to him. Knowing the poor guy's luck, he was probably wandering around in Boat World, visiting graves of his friends. He had mentioned that, hadn't he? About burying Rude and Tseng. Frustrating, that was what it was. He never could help him. What did it say about Reno if he couldn't even help himself? Lot of good this whole stupid damn thing was. Who was he kidding, thinking he could try to save the Tower and send everyone back home?
They probably would never get back home, at this rate. It was just one failure after another. Except for Sector 7. That had been a pretty spectacular way to fulfill a mission. He'd lost count of the times he had failed- they had failed because of Cloud, not that he held it against the guy or anything
Enough yapping, Reno. Let's get some waves in. Lifting his head out of the water, he took a deep breath, then dove under the water. His goal was to touch bottom before he ran out of breath, but he wasn't going to hold it against himself if he couldn't.
Saturday, Oct 19, Morning: Floor 18 - Study Hall
Saturday morning was filled with another disappointing meal of pumpkin, a light jog around the Meadow to clear his head, and then a trip down to the Research Library. An idea had occurred to Reno the other day, something sort of obvious it might have bit him if it hadn't hit him in the head first. This was a library full of all sorts of subjects. He knew his way around pretty well after all that checking through he had done in the first few months of his stay here. There were books that might be able to help him.
Walking through the stacks with purpose, his Raven uniform fitting as well as ever (and damn the thing), until he came to the appropriate section. Blue eyes trailed over the titles from behind the red visor, seeking out one or two in particular. He made a "Heh!" of triumph when he spotted one, pulling it out. It was labelled "Effective Leadership In Military Situations" and probably would be just about right. Sure, he wasn't military, despite the uniform, but good advice was good advice, and there was no way he was going to ask any of these wingnuts here in the Tower. That could get compromising.
Taking the large textbook with him, he headed downstairs to the Study Hall and got comfortable at a desk, leaning back and resting his legs up on the surface. It was a pretty thick book, so he had no illusions he would even get through it before the day, much less before lunch.
At least it was quiet enough.
Sunday, Oct 20, Late Afternoon: Floor 26 - Morgue - Closed to one
Sitting in the library, Reno was dressed in his one pair of civvies today. The ones he shared with Shion. Black suited him, and he really didn't want to have to explain anything in case someone he didn't want snooping around caught him in his Turk suit. That was for later. This afternoon, he was ignoring that vague feeling he should be doing something about that note he had gotten earlier, and trying to get some more work done before heading up to his meeting with Elena. Reno was trying to create copies of some of the maps he has been making of the floors. It's going fairly well, even if he does have to use a straight edge to clean some of these markings up. Reno was a lot of things, but not an artist, musician, baker or taxidermist. Maps were a little different though; some missions needed maps on the fly and he had learned the skill the same way, not that they were stellar pieces of art. It didn't hurt taking some pride in his work, though, so that's why the second drafts were taking a little bit of time.
Unfortunately, he didn't see the Rupee hiding in the small box of pencils until too late. This particular detail required a pencil with a sharp tip, so he dipped his hand inside only for the damn thing to bite him and vanished. And so did his EMR.
"Shit..." He cussed under his breath, damning Leviathan's scaly hide to tango with Ifrit for a while, and pulled his maps together in a neat pile. Theoretically nobody should touch them while they were sitting looking important on a library table, so he got up and headed to the staircase. He really hated this part. Rupees were a damned annoying nuisance, and every time he encountered one, he was pretty sorry for it.
Stomping up the staircase, he glowered across each floor. Those damn things liked to torment him, placing items in a just out of reach spot, but nothing too hidden. That wouldn't be sporting. This time, he didn't have far to go, reaching the morgue and spotting his EMR resting peacefully on one of the morgue draws.
That just so happened to be fully rolled out and open.
Hm.
Eyes narrowing to just blue pinpricks, he stepped off the staircase, glancing side to side. The hazards on this floor were fairly minimal, but that didn't mean it was impossible to run into something here. The damn place gave him enough chills as it was, just walking by on the staircase. Slowly, he approached the shelf, keeping an eye out for any surprises.
As he reached for the EMR, it rolled back a few feet, as if it had been attached to fishing line. Frowning, Reno stepped a little bit closer, though some instinct told him to hang back. Irritation rose. No damned Rupee or whatever they were called was going to get the best of him. Moving quickly, he grabbed for the EMR.
And then something grabbed him, pulling him on the shelf and inside head first. The shelf rolled back into the refrigerated unit, and the door slammed closed with a final clicking.
Reno froze for half a minute, immersed in darkness and the far too enclosed spacing, shocked at what had just happened. The EMR in his hand started tapping against the brushed steel inside- no, that was his hand shaking. The sound was enough to bring him back to reality just long enough for the screaming to start.
The first scream was blood curdling, torn out of his throat so hard it hurt. "LET ME OUT! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" The shrieks sounded hollow in the tiny confines, too loud too loud-- it was making his ears ring. Panic rose and overrode any survival instinct he still had, his boots slamming into the door with no result except denting the metal. All too soon, his screaming became inarticulate. Hoarse. The minutes dragged on and though he was screaming, SCREAMING at the top of his lungs, his throat felt tight and his lungs burned for oxygen.
Nobody was around, nobody would find him. He was stuck stuck. Trapped, in a cage. Cage. Nobody would come for him or save him, he'd be stuck here forever and starve to death. He was going to die in here.
Floor 39
Running - Saturday Afternoon
The jog on the meadow earlier had felt good. Really good. Good enough that he returned the book he had been studying and came up to the Gym. Nobody was there for the moment, but he made a sweeping check just in case before sitting down next to the track and removing his boots and gloves. The headgear came off next, stashed neatly next to the other items. It'd been a long time since he ran just for the sake of running, and he was hoping his feet weren't too out of condition for it.
Reno massaged the bottom of both feet for a minute or two before standing up. Oh, right... the belt and the pauldron. Making a face, he dropped those as well. Who the hell came up with the entire one pauldron idea, anyway? It looked stupid.
Feeling a bit more free, he stretched out a bit before walking out on to the track, getting the feel with his feet. They didn't seem too badly off, if he started slowly. For the first half of the track, he walked, slowly building up speed to where he could break into a jog at the mark. Another half of the track, and he bolted. Feet pounded into the floor, the smooth track cool against them, the shock vibrating up through his arches. He started grinning, feeling the wind in his hair. It felt good to let everything out. This had always been what he most wanted to do. Just to run.
Elena - Sunday Night - Closed
Reno adjusted the cuff of his suit, straightening it and the entire arm out so it wouldn't wrinkle up. After that... incident earlier, he almost wanted to call it off, but being a Turk took precedence. The change of clothes was quick, though this time he took the extra effort of prying the tie that went with this particular suit out of the hidden inside pocket and wore it. He might have also tucked in his shirt and zipped up the blazer, but who was paying attention? He wasn't, and when it dawned on him he had done it almost automatically, he shook his head. Well, the chief had always wanted him to wear the damn thing properly. Might as well start doing it now. Reno was the chief now... he had to set examples.
When did he start caring about examples?
Trying very hard not to let it get to him, he sat down on one of the weight stations and waited for Elena to show. She would, of course. There was no doubt in his mind she would ignore a summons like that, not when he went the extra effort to make it sound all professional.
Shion and Diarmuid - Monday - 0900 - Closed (forward dated a bit)
This was the meeting place they had specified. Reno had dragged Shion down to the gym this morning. To say it didn't chafe a bit that he had to even turn Shion over to someone else for a while would be a lie, and it did chafe. Shion's welfare was more important than Reno's ego, however, and he couldn't justify making the kid try things they had already tried before. It was time for outside resources, something he didn't have as easy access to in the Tower.
Reno was leaning against the wall in his Raven uniform, arms folded and glancing over at the kid every so often. The visor was down, so whatever he was thinking about wasn't immediately apparent.
Catchall for Candy Paranoia - Week of the 20th - 26th
The intensifying, nagging feelings that had plagued him all that first day only got harder to ignore, but in some ragged depths Reno held on. He was determined not to play Ruana's stupid game. He went about in practically only his Raven uniform, hiding his face from even those closest to him.
You may be able to encounter him in the common areas, or hiding out in one of the outdoors or the Upper Tower.
This prompt has increasing warnings of high paranoia, fear, and potential violence the later into the week.
[Floor 39 | Closed]
The seriousness of the summons to report at the gymnasium was a little unexpected, earning extra attention. She'd not heard or read anything of such...professionalism from him. He who was normally laid back, whose authority had its own ring to it. This was decidedly very Director sounding. Perhaps he was taking the role to heart.'
At the appointed time she's strolling into the gym, stopping at the doorway to check if she was being followed before continuing in.]
I got your message. I guess this about what happened between you - [Well hello you amazing vision you. Words trail off when she catches sight of him sitting at a station, dressed in the proper Turk uniform she missed so dearly. Its the fact that the suit is being worn correctly that earns a lift of eyebrows and a slight dropping of the jaw. She at least manages to maintain her stride, but she's got a bit of a sultry smirk forming.] - are wearing the suit correctly for once.
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But you're right. I owe ya a lot of bruises for that one. [Shifting his weight, he stood up without much effort.] Any harder and it wouldn't have been the infirmary.
[The implication there was she needed to pull her punches a bit if they were going to play those roles on the outside.]
Tonight, I'm going to teach you those moves I showed you.
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[There's a flashing look of apologetic guilt, a hand lifting to lightly rub at the back of her neck. After she had stormed off from the cafeteria, leaving a wounded Raven!Reno behind as she stalked off muttering a string of curses that might have made Cid blush, it finally occurred to her the amount of damage that she had unintentionally caused. But she couldn't return to check on him, not with Sephiroth so close.]
Yeah, sorry about that. I kinda got swept up in the moment.
[Both attitude and ears perk up, hands coming together in front of her in an enthusiastic clap. Training and something new to learn. That was something she could get behind.] Really?! C'mon, lets get started! I'll take all the bruises you can give me!
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'Snothing. There was an incident in the morgue with the cold lockers.
[Translation: "I got stuck in one of them and had a giant panic attack."
Reno never had a phobia before, and it's pretty much rankling that he was going into full on panic mode whenever he got stuck somewhere he didn't like.
Her enthusiasm is a good cure for it, though, he really appreciates the way her eyes light up whenever she was happy, or excited. They look beautiful, like radiant warm light that chased all fears away. He laughs, feeling his mood rising since he is just so damned unable to stay serious for long with her around.]
Hold on, sweetheart. We'll get down to it, but got to get warmed up first. There's some news you should hear, too.
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At the mention of the morgue, an eyebrow raised, disappearing behind a curtain of swept blonde bangs.]
Why were you at the - [Hands come up, palms to him in a motion that signifies her stepping away from the subject, despite what her internal voice tells her, head shaking.] Doesn't matter. Sounds like whatever happened left you a little rattled. You gonna be okay? We don't have to do this today if you need time to rest.
[Translation: "I can tell you're on the recovering side of something and would prefer that you rest and recuperate verses push yourself, but I won't stop you if you don't. At least, until you're close to burnout."
Hands rub together with slightly waned excitement, fingers interlocking as hands come forward, knuckles popping.]
News? Did I miss something over the network?
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I didn't want to send ya a message and have it get intercepted. We've got some new recruits. I split 'em up into teams for uh... orientation. You've got- [here, he pauses and counts his fingers, as if trying to remember something,] Tobias and Sheba on yours. Shion's got Xion and Asch. If ya don't want to swing it, I can change. I'm betting we never stopped to get more recruits, so this'll be the first time you've really had rookies to work with...
[A huff escapes through his nose, though it could have been a soft snort.]
And that's the news.
[Something occurred to him just then. When did he ever tell her he was going recruiting? That... might have gotten left out somewhere along the way. Reno had been thoroughly busy when he wasn't hiding out, mapping things and making plans. Ideas and other things were getting jumbled in his head, so he could have, and just forgot.
He is betting on actually forgetting, though.]
Ready for trainin', sweetheart?
not my best, orz
Gaia, she missed her suit.
Eyebrows raise as he talks, continuing their rise as he talks. The man had been busy. Very busy, in fact. The fact that he was giving her new recruits - actual rookies for her to train - earns a very excited grin.]
That's more than just news, that's deserving of a corporate memo. When do you find time to sleep? [A thumb comes up, wiping at the side of her nose.] Have no worries, Boss. You can count on me.
['Boss.' Its both a term of endearment and respect, giving the man a proper Turk salute before hands go to her hips.]
Always ready for training with you, handsome. Bring it on.
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Oh yeah, before we start, you'd better put your gun outta the way. This is martial arts only tonight and I don't want to wind up in the infirmary again with a bullet in my leg.
[Even if that bullet is made out of film, it would hurt. Walking over to her, he looks down at her. Somehow, he seems taller, and it's a bit disorienting until he realizes he's not slouching so much anymore.
Huh.
Reaching out, he trails a finger over her cheek for no reason whatsoever other than he felt like it.]
We'll have to go over pressure points before gettin' to the good stuff.
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[At the mention of the firearm, hands instantly move to the small of her back, a hand pulling against the band of her skirt while the other pulled the firearm free. She really ought to make a proper holster if she could, the slide was starting to leave unnatural marks against her back.
She had just barely straightened up after placing the weapon on a nearby bench when he's towering over her, his height increased dramatically when he wasn't in he usual relaxed pose. Eyes drift partially shut at the soft caress before nodding, her expression nothing but professional seriousness.]
Don't hold back, all right. I can handle whatever you throw at me.
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'Sides, I thought it'd be a great time to try out that dancing thing we talked 'bout last time. I'm not gonna do it so you fall down or anything.
[Oh, that reminds him. Leaning over the bench she set her gun aside on, he grabs something that had been sitting on the floor hidden until then. It's just a simple metronome he filched from the music room, nothing special about it, but it does have a purpose.]
I think ya might find it easier if we used this. Y'know that attack I showed ya? It's literally nothin' but modified dance and martial moves with power jabs. The thing is ya got to hit the pressure points on the beat. That's how you get fast.
[Setting it down, he set the metronome to a moderately fast beat; much slower than what he normally works at, but for practice purposes with her, he'd come down to it.
Walking a way into the "padded" area, he pauses and turns toward her. Holding his arms away at his sides, fingers spread and palms parallel to his body, he nods at her.]
I could show ya my version, but I think you'd be more comfortable with moves you know. Try some of that ballet you got.
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....Dancing thing?
[For the briefest of moments she's a bit confused, looking at the metronome, and then everything clicks. They had talked about training, him teaching her those lightening fast moves of his, and combining her dance background with her movements. It was something she'd considered once, but hadn't been able to give it much thought. Work had kept her too busy and trying to stay alive was a full-time job.]
....Mmm... Fast is good. [Fast meant you could get in and out and move on. That the opponent had little time to react. Fast meant life or death. For probably the first time, Elena is happy to be in her Academy uniform - the flexibility and maneuverability allowed by the skirt optimal for training.] All right....but no laughing if this looks a little off.
[She doesn't wait for any further instruction to attack, the distance plenty to gain the proper speed, moving quickly on the balls of her feet. She's not direct in her approach, steps taking her slightly to the left. Hands lift as she moves closer, moving into a neutral position at her chest until she's close enough to strike. When she is, her right arm moves forward as if to jab, only for her entire upper body drop with a sharp bend at the waist, leg snapping up in a quick arc towards his head.]
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Her leg is centimeters from his face.
Time suddenly resumed normal speed, and his eyes are a little wide. That... that wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to block her leg before it entered his personal space.
Only his eyes move from resting where his arms and her leg met over to her face.]
Good job. You almost hit me.
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The angle she was at made it hard to look at him, especially given how her skirt had shifted. There's little modesty in the way they had paused, her leg up at his head, though there's no room for embarrassment. When eyes meet, she gave a little pleased smirk brimming with an underlying competitiveness.]
....Who told you to stop?
[Beacuse training was just another form of fighting, and seeing that Turks often times fought dirty, she would as well. Her foot holding her up shifts, rising up to point and she's turning, bringing her leg down as if to complete a pirouette turn. Its with that movement of her other leg that she gains speed, dropping near the end of the turn to sweep his feet out from under him.]
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She almost got him, too, at the very edge and the only way he could save himself from unceremoniously landing on his ass is to jump with all his power behind it, somersaulting over her and landing on the other side.]
Oh, so you want to dance?
[He hasn't felt like this in... years now. The Tower seems to melt away for him, all the worries and cares and he is grinning, like nothing had happened between Wutai and now. Monsters were one thing, but another person of this skill... it's exhilarating with blood pounding and giddy euphoria, reminding him of exactly why he had become a Turk in the first place.
Standing there, he considers his options.]
A little faster, Elena. Make me feel it in the morning.
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She doesn't stop the momentum of her spin even when he avoids the sweep, using the speed to spin her around to face him, rising back up into an aggressive stance. Which was hard to hold when he had that look on his face. One that, if she took a second to become more aware of herself, she had herself. The thrill, the excitement. It brings a new dimension, a new fire to her eyes.]
No bitching about bruises...
[Elena hadn't forgotten his mentioning of pressure points and its those very spots that she goes for. Each strike is to the beat of the metronome, going first for stomach and then ribs, wrapping the quick series of hits with a punch to the jaw.]
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Elena learns quickly, he remembered that even when she was still that kid going to the academy... but this. This went beyond all of his best expectations.
Dizzy, he looks up her, slightly bewildered. It takes a few breaths to ease the aches and sharp electrical like pains running along his nerves.]
Uh, El... where did that come from?
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When he falls, the adrenaline kick comes to a skittering halt, hands coming to her mouth as she gives a startled gasp. Seconds later she's kneeling down at his side, looking very apologetic and guilty.]
....I don't know. You said go for pressure points and keep a beat so...I did.. [Though now that she had a moment to think about it, it felt like her entire body was aching, throbbing at a much faster beat than she'd been keeping.] You all right?
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[Reaching up, he tugged on her blouse to pull her down a little.]
C'mere.
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[She's not convinced that everything was just 'peachy'. Not when he's still laying on the ground with, what she could guess, were little chocobos warking around his head. Where she ought to be a little proud for KOing her long-time mentor, she's more worried about his current state.]
....Sorry. Didn't mean to catch you off guard. Guess it sorta helps that I came in with joints that were...loosened up.
[The tug on her shirt earns a little 'eh' noise and she's pulled forward, hands coming out on either side of his head to prevent herself from falling on top of him.]
....W-what is it?
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Nobody else I ever trained did that. You've surpassed 'em all, like I knew ya would.
[There were so many things he wanted to say, but held back because he didn't want her getting mad or ruining the moment.]
You got your own beat now, El.
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But at least she could look surprised so he didn't think she didn't hear him. And the little light coloring across her cheeks helped a little to express her modesty and embarrassment while temporarily mute. Thankfully she was able to regain speech just in time to give a little embarrassed chuckle.]
Yeah, well...I couldn't have found it without your help. Guess even now you're still my Senpai.
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