Rufus ShinRa (whosoldtheworld) wrote in chaosunraveled, @ 2010-01-04 18:49:00 |
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Current music: | Spoonman - Soundgarden |
Entry tags: | rufus, setting: room 307 within niflheim, tseng |
And All My Friends Are Skeletons
Who: Rufus, Tseng
When: Backdated before See No/Hear No/Speak No Evil Day
Where: Rufus' Room
Rating: PG for now
Warnings: Language
Summary: It's time for Rufus and Tseng to have a Come to Jesus. Rufus is not looking forward to it. (Script format, begun in AIM, TBC as tags. Black is Tseng, blue is Rufus.)
*gentle look of disapproval*
*A raised eyebrow. You expect him to start this discussion? He does look away, though, but he passes it off as looking at something in the distance.*
*Well, Tseng never expects conversations with Rufus to be easy, especially when touching on a subject Rufus is obviously uncomfortable with. So, takes Rufus's distracted gaze as an indication to probe further* Sir. *....then, changes his mind. Voice becomes airy* When was the last time we had a drink together?
*Eyes flick to the Turk at the address, watch closely, attempting to distinguish the exact turnings of the gears behind dark eyes. You can be as airy as you like, Tseng— Rufus is on his guard. Nevertheless, his own voice is a casual, almost friendly, match to the Turk's.* Our schedules are hardly conducive to casual meetings.
Hmm~ *The hum of agreement is almost a musical note. Tseng smiles, looks down as he leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest, a picture of reminescences* It wasn't always the case, was it? An age ago the schedule of your Turks revolved around protecting you in your casual hours. *A soft chuckle, and he brings his gaze to meet Rufus's, subtle smile still in place* Do you remember your first outing with us - Reno and I - or did too much alcohol too quickly destroy your memory of that event?
*If mention of that exceptionally awkward night makes Rufus the least bit uncomfortable he doesn't let it show. His first and only adventure with alcohol poisoning was a long ways in the past, and he has since accumulated more than enough material elsewhere to outweigh an early and easy mistake. Instead, he casts Tseng a mildly curious look, as if he hasn't the least idea what's inspired this line of questioning. This... friendly demeanor the Turk was affecting was having the (no doubt intended) affect of making Rufus wary.* That was a long time ago. *And whether that is a statement on how things have changed, an explanation for his behavior that particular evening, or an excuse for why his memory of it is not the best, Rufus does not clarify— perhaps it is all those at once.*
It was a long time ago. *Tseng nods mildly in agreement, the smile grown slightly wider* I have to say, we weren't overly impressed with you back then. This was a prince in our care, we were told, the future of Shinra and hence the world. A prince, with a shocking mop of blond hair, barely into puberty, who I had to cart on my back to return him to his apartment after his first misadventure with alcohol. *laughs then, though knowing just how dangerous it is, to laugh at the man before him* But it was our duty, so we carried it out accordingly.
*Have some honest displeasure, Tseng: eyes narrowing a hair as his back draws a fraction of a degree straighter. He picks his card carefully, on the slim chance it will shake Tseng off of whatever bone he's worrying at.* And I have, as yet, never repeated the mistakes of that first night. *Not to say he hadn't discovered all new ones, but...* I also fail to see how this topic is relevant.
*Tseng, of course, knows he's touching a sensitive nerve, but pretends otherwise. Keeps on smiling at the narrowed blue eyes, and ignores Rufus's attempt to change the subject* Of course, we were all young back then. You, trying to force yourself into the big world of business before you even learnt how to shave, and us - well, we were naiive in the sense that we never saw your potential as Veld did. *His expression dims, becomes more serious, though the smile remains and his tone is still light* But we all learned, in due time, just what a powerful leader you are, and we were content to follow your lead. *sighs, then, and sits up straighter* We were content to follow *words become sharper here* even after Shinra collapsed, and the Geostigma promised you an early demise. *His eyes stare straight into those of the other man* Do you know why, sir?
*He knows Tseng is herding him to a certain conclusion and can't help the impulse to resist, to find a way out before he's penned in. The humiliation of his age, the stinging mention of Veld... he's already tensing in anticipation of the other shoe dropping, eyes frosting over with wariness, when Tseng changes his tone. Reassurance. Reassurance from Tseng. Humiliatingly effective, an oasis in this insane place. And while he doesn't forget the need for caution, it doesn't do him any good: he's still perfectly positioned as Tseng snaps the trap shut behind him all at once. Unable to meet that stare, and unable to answer, he turns his gaze aside, a silent assurance that he does not want to listen, but he will. Because everything he's willing to say now would only be petty and half-true, and Tseng is always swift— happy, even —to call him on that.*
*Tseng does not draw his eyes away even as Rufus does, in fact leans forward a fraction as the smile disappears* Because you had, through the course of your life, become more to us than just the heir of Shinra. And although we protected and served you it was no longer just because you signed our paychecks. We stayed because we wanted to stay. What did you have over us, after Meteorfall? Money, maybe - but nothing substantial. No promises, no legacy, no future, but we stood by, because it was our choice. *draws in a deep breath and lets it out again, slowly* And down here, Rufus *lets the first name slip deliberately* Down here your power over us is purely illusionary. *Smiles spreads again, slowly* Down here no one knows the name of Shinra, and your Turks.......are no longer yours. Do you know what I'm saying?
"Where else did you have to go?" The words are sharp, and he immediately tics a frown, and softens his voice. "I promised to rebuild," he insists quietly. "And I kept my promise. I always keep my promises to you!" Stopping, he drains the swelling defensiveness from his tone and tries again, calmly. "We were rebuilding. And it wasn't perfect, but given time I would carve you your places in the world, again, right beside my own. You know this." He looks up and meets Tseng's eyes. That dark gaze makes him swallow: he cannot continue to avoid the point the Turk was truly making any longer, the test of his words. Always testing. The answer he has does not feel right. But then, nothing about this feels right. Pinned under Tseng's stare, he feels transparent, on display as the ground slips from beneath his feet. Ignoring the clamminess of his palms, he steels himself, and murmurs the bitter-tasting words. "You are saying... I am at your mercy, then." As he speaks the thought, his eye light with ice-cold fire. He does not take kindly to threats, though he hasn't the faintest idea what to do with this one.
"Do you really think a crippled ex-president was the Turks' only option, back then?" Tseng laughs, the sound cold even to himself. But this is necessary, this task of humbling Rufus Shinra, merciless as the Turk's tactic may be. "You certainly made promises, but you were half dead, and some deeper part of you knew there was no place for you left in the world to fulfil them, until after the Geostigma was cured. We knew this too - Reno and I, Elena and Rude - but we still remained to do your bidding. Not out of duty, not for Shinra, but because of our dedication to you!" He rises, then - walks over to where Rufus is sitting to stand over him, voice grave and low - "You don't own us, Rufus. We are not your property, and have stopped being your property since the day Weapon struck your tower down. We didn't stay by your side when we didn't have to, just to be treated like your objects. Indeed, you've been at our mercy since Meteor fell, and even more so now. Why, if I was to strangle you right here, there wouldn't be a damned thing you could do, is there?" And just to press the point, his hand reaches out and lands on Rufus's shoulder, thumb pressed light against the younger man's windpipe.
As Tseng stands, Rufus straightens in his chair, attentive, cautious, but he does not think to move away as the Turk approaches, despite the sharp glint in the man's eyes. Rufus is a man who trusts the lion he has tamed.
Had the Turks disbanded after Diamond WEAPON's attack, Rufus would be dead. It was that simple. Trapped in a coma in an overcrowded, understaffed, rundown hospital, in the mad and merciless days following Meteor, he had been expendable under the circumstances even without the added stigma of being the man the whole world loathed, the man the whole world blamed. The hospital should have simply put him out, freeing a bed for someone with a more optimistic prognosis. The nurse should have been allowed to smother him, the pharmacist should been able to poison him, the angry man with his three year old daughter's body draped in his arms should have been free to put a bullet through Rufus' head unchecked.
But you don't take a bone from a hungry dog, and you don't take the President from four angry Turks. Instead of fleeing on the wind for new lives, the Turks had stayed by Rufus' side. They had protected him. And Rufus was not unaware of his debt to them. Filling that debt, honoring their devotion, was so much of the reason he had pushed himself to survive and to move forward even when he had not wanted to, and there had not seemed a point.
His eyes draw wide when Tseng touches his throat— a lion teething. Gentle. For now. Rufus swallows, and Tseng's thumb is an uncomfortable pressure against his bobbing adams apple. As President ShinRa he knows better than to doubt the Turk's threat, but as Rufus he reassures himself that it is merely a gesture.
Except that Reno walked away. A taste of freedom, a short time away from Rufus' rule, and the redhead had found something better, something he wanted more. Who is to say that in the time Rufus was away Tseng has not found something better? Who is to say the Turk did not now regret wasting years of his life on a crippled ex-president— a disappointing prince —who in the end could give him nothing? Tseng would not, he tells himself, and is ashamed by the doubt he feels.
He is sure the Turk can feel the racing of his pulse and the cold sweat on his skin, but Rufus ShinRa is no stranger to dignity in fear. Eyes never leaving Tseng's, he raises his chin regally, challengingly. "There would not," he says softly.
The hand tightens around Rufus's neck. Tseng's thumb pushes upwards, under Rufus's adam's apple, the Turk's face expressionless, eyes like glass - the silent gaze of a murderer. He allows Rufus a few moments of laboured breathing, a few moments to taste his own vulnerability and the reality of the present world. Rufus is not the president, Tseng is not a Turk - this act would not even count as betrayal. In hell all players are equal and all forms of dedication and loyalty are merely acts of convenience. "I could kill you, so easily," Tseng's tone is venemous; the grip tightens still — before falling away altogether. He stands back, shoulders sagging slightly - the murderous glint in his eyes softening into something like exhaustion along with his voice. "But why would I, Rufus? The world after Midgar's destruction was a hell more terrible than this one, and still I kept by your side. Because I've seen you grow from a teenage hooligan into the most powerful man in the world; because I've watched you fall, rise to your knees, and continue to crawl even when you had so little hope of ever standing again. I didn't leave you then, and I wouldn't leave you now, because you're no longer President Shinra to me. You're Rufus - my friend, and I hope you've come to see me the same way." A sigh, then. That was by no means an easy thing to say. "I know Reno feels something similar," the smile returns. "Even with the way you've been treating him. So, you kissed the kid. Are you ready to tell me why, so that maybe I can help you?"
As the pressure increases, Rufus' doubts turn into a solid weight in the pit of his stomach, rolling slightly with each wheezing breath he takes. He keeps his eyes open, though, makes himself meet the familiar stranger in the Turk's stare head on. Compared to this, it was easy to keep his composure in front of Kadaj, even as the Remnant knelt with his eyes barely a foot from discovering the end of the world. He'd expected Kadaj's wrath. This crumbles him, bends him under its weight, and as his chest begins to heave with the force of drawing breath, he reaches one hand up and clings lightly to Tseng's wrist, wordlessly willing comfort from his murderer. And then the hand is gone, out of his grip and away from his throat, and he is coughing, breathing. He does close his eyes, now, in profound relief, less that he is alive than that Tseng is not the one to kill him. That Tseng never meant to kill him. That Tseng is still his, no matter what the Turk says about Rufus owning, because Rufus knows no other way to express his link to the Turk except as possession. Mutual possession, perhaps, but possession. Friendship, maybe, he considers, as he listens to Tseng speak. Uncomfortable. Important. He sets his own thumb against the phantom of pressure on his throat, and considers. And then he jolts. Because he most certainly was not the one to tell Tseng about that part of the problem. Anyone else, he'd have snarled, or scoffed, or ignored, until they went away.
"I— I wanted...." Suddenly he's that teenager again, that floppy haired child staring up at Tseng and wishing like hell he knew where to begin. "He was leaving." As though that should explain it all.
"And if you value Reno as a person, not merely as your mannikin, then you should respect whatever decision he makes." Tseng moves his chair closer and sits down, meeting Rufus at eye level once more. The hint of panic in the young man's face does not go unnoticed; when was the last time Tseng had seen that look? "But listen - he isn't going to leave after being your shadow - your friend - for so long because of a romantic interest, otherwise I daresay he would have left a long time ago - and how would you have been able to stop him? No... Reno won't leave unless you force him to leave. And his liasons with a woman shouldn't bother you, either - unless of course your little display of affection was more than just an attempt to regain the power you've lost." The Turk pauses. This particular topic of conversation has a somewhat bitter taste on his tongue, and the exhaustion is more leeching than ever. "So, can you tell me - what exactly is Reno to you?"
His nostrils flare and his chin lowers. "More than valuing Reno, I rely upon him. I rely upon him to do his job, to protect me. I do not care if there is no Company, no President, and no Turks: if he is not a Turk then he has no business behaving as one. He cannot have it both ways, cannot choose when he will and will not be a Turk." One corner of his lips twitch downward before flattening again. "That makes him unreliable.
"Tseng, whether or not this "war" is real, most of the people here believe that it is. Even those who do not believe are... drawn into the contest. There is little else, in this place." The fingers of one hand tap the table as he restrains the urge to run them through his hair. "The point is this: you know as well as I the strength of belief, that it lends power and a certain legitimacy to an idea. Whether or not we are here to determine the fate of the universe," his eyes shift, a stifled roll, "or simply to amuse the arbiters of this place, Asgard must be considered the enemy. They are a legitimate danger, and at least three of them— including Reno's 'romantic interest' —have threatened me specifically.
"So tell me why I should not be allowed to have a say in the matter, when the man I rely upon to keep me safe is deeply romantically involved with an enemy?" His palms land flat upon the table and he half stands. "Explain to me why I should not consider this an insidious threat, and act to remove it? Is Reno even threatening to walk away not validation enough of my concerns: that he will be conflicted, and thus compromised? Yet he would still ask me to trust him with my life, and I am wrong not to?!"
Tseng sits still, listens as Rufus's words and expressions become more heated, knowing better than to attempt an interruption. Yes - company or no company, Rufus Shinra will not change so easily, because Rufus has been raised as a Master of Men since the day he was born. As the younger man speaks, Tseng closes his eyes briefly and breathes a sigh through his nose - exasperated but patient.
"Did you not understand me, when I said it is no longer Reno's job to do anything for you?" The comment is harsh, but the tone is gentle. This, prying past the layers of Rufus's pride, requires more than a little sensitivity. "He is behaving as a Turk out of habit, and perhaps also because this form of dedication to you comes more naturally to him than does a bond of friendship. Friendships are tempermental; they can fail without warning, whereas a Turk's contract is signed almost literally with blood." A pause, as Tseng draws a deep, audible breath. "But the reality is as such - there is no company, no president, and no Turks - has not been for a long time, and your relationship is no longer as simple as that of an employer and his employee."
Tseng's eyes stay locked to Rufus's as he leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. "If your concern is really with this war, and with Reno fraternising with the enemy, we can deal with that seperately. But you have not yet answered my question, regarding Reno's significance to you, and if you can't answer, then the possibility of him leaving will remain as it is presently. It's your call. Are you going to keep avoiding the real issue at hand?"