Reno of the Turks (
raspberryturk) wrote2008-04-14 08:28 pm
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Room 429, Monday Evening
To Reno, today had been about as uneventful as a Monday without classes could possibly be.
Except for the sheep.
He never would have suspected that another day devoted to lazily surfing the internet for t-shirts with dirty slogans could possibly turn into an attack by a flock of tiny ruminants, swarming in around his ankles and attempting to graze on his socks.
With this unexpected invasion underway, Reno did the only thing he could think of.
He put a bowl on the floor, he filled it with the last of his rum, and he watched.
Who needed the internet when there was a room filled with tiny drunken sheep to watch?
He was silently hoping for a baaaaaar brawl to break out.
[The door is open, the post is open, I cannot promise sanity, as I have slept two hours in the past 48. Again. Hooray sheep!]
Except for the sheep.
He never would have suspected that another day devoted to lazily surfing the internet for t-shirts with dirty slogans could possibly turn into an attack by a flock of tiny ruminants, swarming in around his ankles and attempting to graze on his socks.
With this unexpected invasion underway, Reno did the only thing he could think of.
He put a bowl on the floor, he filled it with the last of his rum, and he watched.
Who needed the internet when there was a room filled with tiny drunken sheep to watch?
He was silently hoping for a baaaaaar brawl to break out.
[The door is open, the post is open, I cannot promise sanity, as I have slept two hours in the past 48. Again. Hooray sheep!]
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"I knew you'd see it my way," she said airily. "Besides, if you let me pick food without you, you're going to end up with horrible things. Like this canned meat I saw once with little chunks of processed cheese in it. None of it was any color that's found in nature. You really want me to go by myself? Not. Even."
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"I tasted worse," he decided, pulling his key from his pocket to lock up his door behind them. "Fine. We go food shopping, yoto. But I ain't no freakin' charity case or nothin'. I pay you back the moment I get paid, yo."
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She hesitated, leaning against the hallway and wondering if it was a bad idea to ask, but ... hey, it wasn't like not-talking ever did them any favors.
"You kinda ... didn't grow up with a lot. Did you?"
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"I'm grown up now," he replied, his shoulders slouching forward a little more than usual. "So there's not much point worryin' about what I did or didn't have as a kid, zoto."
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Maybe this was a change of topic. Reno could handle that.
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"Sin destroyed our island," she said, swinging her hands a little as she walked. "And our Home. Everyone was scattered. That's when Pops said we could start over. Make a new Home. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be ours. We went to Bikanel, then. All of us. We came together and everybody worked hard. It was a desert, and sand likes to clog up engines. So we cleaned the sand out of the engines. We left potions in the rest of the desert in case anyone got stranded. We sent mech droids on patrols for fiends. So what if it wasn't easy? We had our Home back. We were all ..."
She looked over at him, unsure of how to even put things into words. "It wasn't you and me and Eigaar over there. It was us. Pops was the leader, but people outvoted him sometimes. They did with Mi'ihen. And if Judda's mech droid blew a fuse and burned some of her stuff, then everyone else chipped in what they had to replace it. Not for charity, not because you should, not because anybody felt sorry for her. But because Judda's bed caught on fire. I have some blankets I'm not using, she shouldn't sleep on the floor. Most of her boots are gone, so it's a good thing that she and Lakkam are the same shoe size, because she has an extra pair."
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"So... Everyone just gave whoever whatever when they needed it?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing at her sidelong before turning his eyes back to where they were headed. "Sounds real nice or whatever. But..." He shrugged, rather at a loss. "I mean. Why?"
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She folded her arms and looked at him for a long moment. "We went through so much. We had each other, and everyone else thought we were scum. We were family." Deep breath. "If some newbie Turk was living on his last box of ramen, what would you do?"
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"I dunno. Some newbie? Get him more ramen, or whatever. You don't eat, you go out there and you're hungry and you don't come back alive. I don't like losin' newbies any more than I like losin' the ones I know, zoto."
Okay. So he kind of understood.
The newbie example helped.
"Wasn't like that. I mean, when I was growin' up."
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She was back to chewing the inside of her bottom lip as they reached the stairs. "I kinda ... figured. That it wasn't like that, for you, I mean. You haven't said much about it or anything. It's kinda ... some of the things you don't say, I guess."
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It wasn't the most casual dismissal he'd ever managed.
"Not really, not when the kid down the street's gonna be as hungry as you, or your mom, or the freaky pervert on the streetcorner waitin' for kids to walk by, or the fucknuts who went through your stuff and took all your gil because he was hungry, too. Nothin' grows under the plate except a bunch'a yellow flowers in a church in Sector Five and a whole shitload of dumbfucks who are too afraid of the monsters on the outside to leave. Or of the people. Or of the war. Or of the sky. So food's gotta be imported, and that costs money, and there ain't much of that down there, either, zoto. And you either hate it or you learn to stop givin' a shit, because that's life, and shit happens, and you're knee-deep in it and can't get out, and nobody who's supposed to matter is gonna even consider helpin' you if you're idiot enough to try."
And if he was at all aware of the fact that he had started talking about the slums as if they were still there, he didn't show it. "So it doesn't matter who's there. Mom, kid down the street, whatever. For all they're there, it ain't like it matters. They're just other hungry idiots stuck under the plates, too."
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She picked up her little family - self, brother, Pops - and plopped them into that setting. And it didn't work right. The freaky pervert on the street corner didn't get near her, because Brother insisted on walking her around everywhere and glaring at anyone who looked creepy. Days when food was short, Pops lied and said he wasn't hungry. She mugged people in back alleys, but the money didn't go into a hidden stash - she brought it home.
She wondered for a moment if life down there, under the plate, just wore it out of you. If a couple of years of being hungry and having nothing would have made her and Pops and Brother turn against each other. Maybe it did. Or maybe there was more he wasn't telling her. Maybe his mom just sucked at family.
She reached over then, slipping her hand into his. "It does matter," she said softly. "You were alone."
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Shrugging it off. See. He did that a lot. No big deal. It's life. Life's a bitch, shit happens, you deal. It's all good.
He gave her hand a little squeeze anyhow.
"Don't matter now," he amended, "because I'm not. Not anymore, zoto."
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He was going to pull away, shrug it off, push it aside, change the subject. She pressed too hard, maybe. But there was something hiding, lurking, right under the surface that she wanted to wrap her arms around and protect, dammit. If he knew that, he'd ... walk away even faster. Would he? Or maybe he'd let her. She'd keep her hand in his for now and hope it wasn't too much.
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Her fingers, there in his hand, small and clean and warm and...
His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. He shook his head a bit. He glanced up at her.
"Funny thing about that. For th'longest time, they were the only family I ever knew, yoto."
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"I was fifteen the first time someone who wasn't an Al Bhed called me a friend," she said. "I don't think it's funny. I'm ... glad you had them. You know?"
It was maybe the first time since all of this started that she was happy about it, too. But everyone needed family.
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And there, he resisted giving her hand another squeeze.
"Sign up for a job, you think it's gonna just be a job. A way out, whatever. Kinda surprisin' how tight-knit it all is."
The same, oddly enough, could be said about high school.
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She took an uncertain breath. "I ... don't think I got it. How much it all means to you. I mean, I know you ... square your shoulders when you say Turk, but it's not just that. Right? There's ... good parts, and bad parts, but ... nothing's easy. Family never is. Pops is crazy and he and Brother aren't speaking, again, and Brother never thinks I can take care of myself and I was gonna strangle Yunie if she didn't stop moping on Besaid already. And I'd die for any of them, in a heartbeat. I couldn't ... just ... walk away from that. It's like losing a limb." She looked over. "Is that weird?"
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"No, not weird, yo. I, uh. When ShinRa fell? When Meteor came and crushed the shit outta Midgar and we figured the boss was pretty much freakin' done for, and it was just me and Tseng and Rude and Elena and everything had gone all to hell? For all the chaos that was goin' on around us, for as much as it sucked seein' Midgar in pieces an' all that... The biggest worry I had was..."
He shrugged. Felt stupid. Death and geostigma and Meteor and the collapse of an empire and guilt and more death. Just sounded... stupid.
"No more Turks. Scared the livin' shit outta me, even after all of that, zoto."
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She tugged lightly on his hand until he turned around, and slid her arms around him.
"I ... get it. I think. Your family. And ... your identity. What it means to be you, yeah?"
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"I wasn't anything until I was a Turk," he mumbled, and then returned the hug. "Nothin' before it's worth thinkin' on. So... just throw it all away and... whatever. Yeah. It's my identity, yo. And my family and the rest of it. And sometimes I hate it, but that don't mean I can just turn and leave it behind, either."
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