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year 5, quarter 3
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Finally, she was out of that stifling forest. The place had taken a toll on her mentally and physically. It showed her what she wanted, but it was always out of grasp. It made her see things that were not there. Worse yet, she felt it was driving her into madness. Even with the help of two gentlemen, the whole thing was a mess she was sure she did not want to endure again. Beasts, giants, and ghouls…that was enough for one’s lifetime. Once the mission was completed, she gathered her profit and decided to run from Provo and look for a change of scenery.
Now it seemed the weather here was beautiful. The bright blue sky seemed to be the perfect backdrop for the warmth the sun provided. At the edge of the forest, this was like a breath of fresh air. It drove the darkness of the forest back and allowed the young lady to breathe freely again. It was as if the heaviness of whatever burden the forest placed on her fell away. Perhaps all she needed was a bit of sunshine to calm her mood again. For a moment, she basked in the light before continuing across the grassy field.
But enough about that, the moment she crossed the gates into Torensten, she knew she could find a bit of respite here. The large crowds where she could be anonymous gave her a sense of comfort. There was the hustle and bustle of the markets, and in the distance, the homes of the people looked small, but comfortable. The cobblestone roads contrasted with the colorful banners and stalls. There seemed to be something for everyone here from jewelry to large antique-framed paintings. Or for those most modest journeying supplies and places to rest one’s head. For entertainment one could see the street performers with their singing or juggling, and there was even an entrance for a theatre.
However, none of these is what Cissnei currently looked for. If she was to fit into this new world, she needed something more suitable to wear in this world. As much as the suit meant to her, she needed something that allowed her to fit into this world. Dressing like those in the environment would assist in gathering information. Or perhaps looking like you don’t fit in would help others open to her? Certainly, it depended on the situation, but it would not hurt to have a second pair for hygienic purposes.
She wandered to a stall that seemed well equipped with travelling gear. Her fingers brushed along the fine material. Looking over to the owner of the booth, “How much do these go for?”
“Depends on what catches your eyes.”
Cissnei knew this tactic was to try and high ball her, but she looked anyway. She remained silent as she tried to determine what she wanted. The coats seemed too hot in this place, even if they were fashionable. The pants were so very stiff, even if they did protect one’s legs from the brush. Perhaps her tastes were too utilitarian? In the end, she did not find anything that appealed to her. Seeing this the shopkeeper pointed down the road, “We have more goods in our store that way. Perhaps you will have better luck there.”
“I will take a look. Thank you.” With that she turned from the stall and merged back into the crowd. But despite all the salesman and buyers, there was an opening in the wall framed by an intricate railing. She moved to the shadowy location, the railing cool beneath her hands. Behind her was the crowd, but in front of her was a stunning view of the water. She could see ships docking and leaving. It felt reminiscent of some place she had been.
But now it was time for her to rest after her long forest trek. She turned from the quiet contemplation back into the cacophony of the crowd. She seemed to be finding herself in taverns as of late in search of food, comfort, and more importantly, clues. It did not take long to find one cheekily named “The Siren’s Call”.
Inside was wooden furniture and chairs and a decently sized dining area. The normal crowd was starting to filter into the bar. Knowing she should be strict on her funds until she understood this world’s economic system better, she moved to the person who looked to be in charge. After demonstrating to them her skill privately, they agreed to provide her a meal and a room for a night of her entertaining the crowd. A waitress provided Cissnei a more decent performing attire, accidentally left behind by another performer. It was a beautiful white dress with black lace for the bodice and sleeves that mostly fit.
Cissnei did not complain about her attire, and instead professionally moved to the cramped corner stage. She remembered a wish she made back in the past. A wish for wings so she could fly freely to where she pleased unhindered. But the wish seemed to have cut her deep. She had not wanted to pay the price of losing her family. Of being...no she would not admit it. She would admit she should have been more careful to what she wished for. She heard the soft roll of the piano as the man took his position at it.
Each word sung was deliberate and harmonious. It was meant to ring deeply, even though her voice was soft and gentle.
“Take me…someplace far away. Take me…to a true…elsewhere… My first thought…”
Her words trailed off. She pressed her hands to her chest and lowered her eyes. Why had she thought those things? Her master, ShinRa, had given her everything she needed: food, shelter, education, and even a family. Why had she been so foolish to even think to be free? It looked like she was praying for a moment, before looking up at the audience. Her arms outstretched to them as if beckoning them to her foolish wish.
“Take me….beyond my dreams… Take me… to the end of time…” My last wish…”
Her hands gently fell to the mic as she gave a soft sigh followed by indecipherable, but beautiful words. Perhaps she had lost her mind. Minerva help her. Perhaps the forest did take a toll on her. Then with a soft “ah”, she continued on with the song.
“Take me…beyond time… Take me…to a true…elsewhere.”
She closed her eyes and seemed to sway as if the words took a toll on her. As if her next words were difficult. “Help me…please.”
She had been granted her wish and it was slowly burning her up. She could see the audience be moved by her song. They were not unlike her. Misplaced from their own homes and families. Her words were stirring their souls as they heard their own subconscious pleas for help and direction sung. But she would not end on those words. They felt too bleak. No. The right thing to end on was the motivation to keeping moving forward, despite the situation. ...Despite the chaos and repercussion. She gave a final sigh and breathed the words.
“Take me…to as far as the stars go. My last wish…”
Familiarity is a loaded gun nestled in its holster. One of three. The solid weight grounds Tseng against the endless drifting that Torensten seems to do nothing but encourage. It reminds him that he has: purpose, function,use. A cold comfort in this new world. The perfect comfort.
Every world has a use for a man well-versed in the art of efficient violence, and this one is no different. Tseng finds himself a temporary purpose with ease. A temporary master who does not deserve him, but pays in coin, and information, and the opportunity to ensure that his skills remain sharp - at the ready. When everything is a means to ascertain how he ended up here and move on, it hardly matters whose coin he accepts in the end, but Tseng is nothing if not predictable in his choice of masters. “The Siren's” owner, Vike, may be as cut-throat as any ShinRa executive, but he treats his people with respect. That should mean something. Does mean something. It's earned him Tseng's stone-faced presence for several nights running.
A silent specter who appears unmoved from one performance to the next, Tseng watches arguments come to a boil and ensures that they remain tightly lidded within the confines of the establishment. Whatever happens outside is someone else's problem.
Since he began to settle himself by the door just over a week ago, patrons have been thinking twice about skipping out on their tab and starting pointless brawls. It only took one broken wrist. Vike appreciates this. Tseng couldn't care less if low-lifes refuse to pay for cheap beer and half-assed entertainment, but a job is a job, and he prides himself on efficiency and success in all things.
There hasn't been any trouble in three or four nights running now. This is a point of pride. A mark of competence. If a small, largely unsatisfying one. For the time being, it is enough.
Tonight is no different. Not at first. Tseng arrives promptly with one gun holstered at his side, and several others tucked out of sight. He greets Vike with a silent nod as he enters, and takes up his customary position by the front door - an immovable object settling itself into place. It pays to be seen. To be noticed as the little bar goes from sparsely crowded to downright popular as the hour grows late and the first would be stars of the night wail, and croon, and actively bore him as they take to the stage at the back of house. Many of the performances barely qualify as music, but Tseng isn't expecting them to be good, so it's hardly a bother. Just one more addition to the overall din that permeates the bar like a thick fog. It's best to set expectations early and keep them reasonable. Tseng expects a paycheck at the end of the night. Nothing more. Nothing less. He certainly isn't expecting to see a familiar figure saunter out from the back to take the stage.
He'd seen the woman in question as she entered and thought nothing of it. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that he'd thought he'd seen a familiar figure in the crowd, only to be disappointed upon approach. But now, as she takes to the stage and begins to bear her heart and soul for the undeserving masses crowded before her, it's impossible to write off the truth. She's one of his. 'Cissnei.'
Shocked by the depth of feeling, by the utter despair, in the younger Turk's performance, Tseng remains rooted in place as others push closer to the stage to showcase their support. She's talented, but Tseng barely notices the cadence, the rhythm, the way she nails every breathy note. He notices only: the sorrow, the emptiness, the ways in which the song stirs him. He has failed her.
Questions come to mind one after another, falling like dominoes in a neatly ordered line that pave a path toward guilt. How long has she been here in Torensten without his notice? Are there others Turks here as well? Is he losing his edge? What has befallen her in order to provoke such a display when she ought to have been under his supervision, his protection?
Tseng frowns as the performance comes to an end and slips silently toward the bar to order her a drink. He remembers her drink of choice for chasing long nights borne of distasteful missions with perfect clarity, as he does all things that matter. "Honey bourbon on the rocks. Make it a double"
Raised for a time in a ShinRa orphanage, those choir lessons to help the orphanage’s funding during holidays paid off. It became useful in her time with the Turks. Each one had a special gift to be utilized strategically. Whereas Reno and Rude had the brawn to force new recruits into SOLDIER and bring situations to a violent halt, Cissnei used wits and guile. She was far too small to overpower someone, even though she could bring someone down when her teeth were bared. She preferred to manipulate the field to the benefits of the Turks. One such tactic was her own singing, especially in the Sector Seven and Six Slums. She could lure certain fans to where her Turk partners lay in wait in this honeypot tactic. Filter through fan letters to find a target and lure them in deeper. She even used it to convince people to join ShinRa’s military. ShinRa’s pretty song bird, the SOLDIERs once crooned, caged and pinioned. But she felt safe and at home in that pretty cage.
However, few of her performances were so revealing of her emotions. And even when they were, self-absorbed strangers rarely took notice. Therefore, it felt safe to sing what was boiling inside her. But tonight…
She felt certain people draw closer to the stage, but it was the dark-haired man that seemed to look at her so intently. She suddenly felt…She tried to think of what it was. Embarrassed? No. Exposed. He saw right through the spotlight and pretty notes. She was sure of it because there was something familiar about him. Was he one of the forest’s spirits? The one that kept disguising themselves as men in suits to taunt her? They were always just out of her reach, and one even tried to kill her when she did reach it. Or was he tangible? One of the many she was desperately looking for?
She felt her brain haze over and she swooned for a second on the stage. Suddenly, she saw white, much like she did in the Headstone Forest, which caused her nerves to grate. She thought she escaped this.
Then, the white gave way to another memory:
~~ ~~ ~~ Memory Time~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ Bright.
The white light…the sheets…the walls…the monitor…the window…everything was too bright.
A groan left her lips as the painful reality of her condition washed over her body. She felt smothered by bandages. It hurt to breath with every expansion of the lungs, only made more difficult by the weight of her arm tied closed to her a body in a sling. Her eyes squinted at the white light filtering from the bright bulbs and even the window.
There were men murmuring outside her door. She heard the door open to her left and her head shifted to look in that direction, pass the machines, wires, and tubes. She did not feel her hair on her cheek as she shifted, making her realized her hair must have been singed short in the blast.
She saw a dark figure approach from the door. The figure hesitated for a moment to look around the room. Finding what he was searching for, he grabbed a chair and drew it to the side of the bed, so he could sit eye level with her. “How are you feeling?”
“When can I return to work?” The sound came out raspy, her mouth dry from all the pain medications they put her on. Reno, Rude, and Tseng were successful in their mission. A sense of relief washed over her, and she felt the relief sting her eyes with tears. But she bit back the tears blearing her eyes. Everything went according to plan. Furthermore, Zirconaide’s defeat surely showed the President that the Turks were a valuable asset. A show of that kind of bravado and skill surely proved it to be a waste to get rid of the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department.
The man couldn’t help but give a bitter smile. Of course, that would be her first question. She never did like to be away from her work long. He couldn’t even think of her being on any vacations for the last several years. He thought about giving her the news gently and in a roundabout way, but she was not the type to respond well to that. She could sift through the crap people spouted, so he decided to tell her quickly and concisely instead. A frown replaced his bitter smile, “You cannot return.”
She felt a lump in her throat as she stared at his face. Unfortunately, the light was too bright, and the medication blurred her vision to make out much detail. The words sunk in and there was a deep silence. It was broken with the words, “I would rather be dead right now…I wanted to die a Turk. Now, I am nothing.” Panic gripped her heart at this point. She suddenly sat up, ignoring the pain that followed, and eyed his waist band for his gun. Her body leaned forward to grab it, only that it was not there. She had always joked that she was married to her job…’til death do us part. However, it seemed ShinRa threw her aside, discarded like trash. She knew there would be repercussions for her actions against the President, but she thought it would at least ended cleanly with a bullet in her temple. Instead, it left her with a sudden onslaught of emotions that she could not filter out as she sat here, messy and untamed, in the discomfort of an unfamiliar and sterile hospital room.
The man took note of the wild, confused look in her eyes as she grabbed him by his collar with her good hand, a snarl on her face. For the first time since her childhood, she felt tears of hot anguish sting her eyes. All she had in life was ShinRa and the Turks. “I no longer have a purpose…” It left her lips as a fretful whisper. It was then she began to wildly shake him with all the might she could muster from her tired, broken body. A look of desperation on her face, she gasped, “What do I have left?!” She had no family, no home town, and no acquaintances. She was taught everyone not ShinRa-related were enemies, and now she HAD to live among them. “Why didn’t you just let me have a Turks’ death?”
At least she would have died with meaning. Wasn't that a better reward?
He let her vent and shake him for a time, before his hand snaked out and struck her hard across the cheek. Her head snapped over to the side. She did not even bother to touch the angry, stinging hand print on her face. The angry, confused light left her eyes. ‘No’, he realized, ‘all the light has left her.’ It was as if whatever sparks of a flame that burned inside her were stamped out. He studied her as her eyes fixated on some uninteresting portion of the white sheets. A tense silence filled the air as Cissnei sat motionless – as if she turned to stone.
He took her by the shoulders and forced her to look up at him, “Where is your pride?! If you die now, you waste the efforts of Rufus and Tseng. They have convinced the company we are dead, so that we may live. Do NOT waste the chance they gave you.” Her eyes still held that vacant look of the thousand-yard stare and he wondered if she even heard a word of what he said. He gave her one firm shake before standing up and abruptly leaving. There was nothing more he could say now, and she was going to have to work this all out on her own. Until then, she would not hear out his words.
All that was left was a pale, bandaged girl in a bed and the empty chair next to her.
~~ ~~ ~~ End of Memory~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
By time she came to, the pianist seemed to have caught her and was helping her lean against the piano for support. The din of the crowd filled her ears, and the pianist gently told them that Cissnei needed a break. He eyed her for a moment and she regathered herself with grace, giving him a nod of gratitude.
However, her eyes focused on Tseng at the bar. Ordering something that she would much prefer about now. She stepped down from the slightly raised platform and parted the crowd with relative ease. She strode up to Tseng unabashedly and grabbed him by his tie and pulled him slightly down to make him look at her. She met his gaze for a moment before taking in the features of his face. Then something in her mind clicked, and the recognition showed in her eyes. “…Tseng?”
She said it slowly as if trying to let sink it. She felt her grip tighten on his collar as she remembered the name as one the men who orchestrated her crucial loss in the memory. However, she could hear the bar denizens begin to murmur. She did not need to read their minds to know what they were thinking, ‘Is he going to break her wrist too?’ But she did not hold the same fear they did.
Her ochre eyes lowered to her hand and for a moment the anger subsided into confusion and surprise. Unlike the forest, he did not elude her or disappear. She actually laid hands on him. Good to know he was not a figment of her imagination here. Hearing the bar owner draw closer, she let the fabric of his tie slip from her grasp. It would not do well to cause a scene here.
“I have not been here long.” She stated, as if she could read his mind. She took a seat on the stool next to him. She placed an elbow on the bar and let her cheek lean against her palm. The only way to diffuse this awkward situation was to speak. “I was brought to this world for only the past month. I arrived in Torensten only today. I figured if I left a piece of myself in bars I visited maybe I could find…” Find what? A piece of herself? Her family? She trailed off for a moment as if stuck on the word. Shaking her head, she studied him again. “…the others. I did not think the strategy would work so quickly.” But Tseng had always been quick and reliable. “I should not be surprised that you were the first to find me.” She gave him a soft smile.
“When are you off shift? I think we should catch up more privately.” She tilted her head in the direction of the backroom. She did not want to remove her mask so publicly, and she was sure he understood. A part of her still did not trust people. And, despite Tseng’s sleight against her, she still trusted him wholly. Her choice of words here were meant to embarrass those that listened into not prying, of course.
Tseng catches the sharp undercurrent of accusation in Cissnei's tone, as though it might be missed in the way her hand clenches into a fist against the fabric of his tie and tugs him down to her level. She's furious. She has every right to be. This occasion doesn't mark the first time that Tseng has failed her. Even so, there's a sense of relief to be had as she settles beside him, true to what they are, even now - far too sensible, too well trained in the art of not drawing attention to themselves unless it's strictly necessary, to make a scene. Even when she has every right to do so.
A world away from home and devoid of her uniform, and Cissnei is still every bit a Turk, quickly schooling her emotions into something acceptable to the outside observer. Creating a lessening of tension with her words as the room holds its breath to see what will become of her. 'Once a Turk, always a Turk' he thinks, as though any one of them might ever so much as conceive of becoming anything else. Once a Turk always a Turk, the unspoken mantra born of too much careful molding to be undone, more lifestyle than instruction. Once a Turk, always a Turk - a statement that ought to be a threat. It isn’t. Not to them. Instead, it codes itself as something not unlike family. One of us, it says. Always one of us.
Tseng offers her a smile, a ghost of a thing that curls with promise at the edges in a way that doesn't belong. Not here. Not now. Not like this. A false show of accepting something that Cissnei isn't offering, for all her words to the contrary. A slow, suggestive thing that speaks of all that might blossom between a young starlet and a stalwart bodyguard behind closed doors. And beneath it all, a sense of pride in all that she is, all that she remains.
As she continues, Tseng bides his time in silence, as is often his way. It’s not until long after Cissnei's "offer" hangs between them that he speaks. "You put too much faith in me," he says quietly, voice nearly lost beneath the din that has resumed around them, now that the threat of impending violence has passed.
It's rare that his guilt speaks so openly, bleeding into the otherwise harsh words like a fresh wound. "One of these days, it's going to get you killed."
He slides the bourbon in front of her to take the bite from his words. An offer, to the outside world. A promise, to her - that, this time, he won’t abandon her. Won’t let her down. It’s a promise that Tseng isn’t entirely certain that he can keep, for all that he has resolved himself to try, no matter the cost.
“My shift ends in an hour. I’ll meet you out back,” he informs her for the benefit of those still listening a bit too closely. Knowing that, no matter which establishment you choose in frequent in any world, there’s always someone pretending to nurse a rough night and rougher spirits in the hopes of picking up whatever juicy gossip might be willing fall into their lap.
Cissnei felt the hair on the back of her neck rise at his faint smile. Something was up, even if it was just a fake, undercover promise so they can speak more frankly later. Cissnei would normally talk here, but there were somethings she needed off her chest. And the only people she trusted with something like that was another Turk. But it appeared to her that Tseng had something on his chest as well. Good. Maybe they could finally resolve things. At least maybe then, Cissnei could move on from the past. That was her hope.
She studied him again and gave him a soft smile, before lowering her eyes to the drink the Tseng slid in front of her. It was her preferred drink of honey bourbon on the rocks. A double at that. It really was Tseng. Her fingers trace the rim of the glass. Despite the quietness of her words, she was trained enough to zone out the din to hear him. She began factoring the obvious sound of guilt in his voice. He knew he did her dirty. But she could not stop her words. She wanted to speak them for so long. “I have put a lot of faith in you, as I did with Veld. I trusted the others wholly too. We have to. We don’t have anyone else...” She paused in silence, “I didn’t have anyone else.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Not here. Not now. Later. “And it seems my trust was well placed. I am still alive despite it all…” Yet, there was some hesitancy in her voice at the last part. “But I cannot say for certain if it did not kill a part of me.”
She felt the coolness of the glass against her palm and she lifted as if in toast to him. An acceptance of the promise for now. “You remembered.” She chuckled and took a sip on the glass. She slipped off her stool and gave a bow of her head. “In an hour then.” That would give the alcohol time to kick in. She wondered if Tseng planned it that way, or it were coincidence.
She drank the bourbon on the way to the stage and between songs. With her mood shift, she sang with a little more drama. She sang of bittersweet faiths, of regrets, and of trying to let go.
~~And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around
All of his questions, such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues strong
But it's always darkest before the dawn~~
And soon the hour passes, and Cissnei leaves the stage to allow the other nightly performers to do their job. The glass given to her by Tseng was faithfully emptied. She gravitated to the backroom and waited. She was checking over her suit and her pack to ensure nothing was missing. At this point the alcohol was taking effect, and it frightened her a little. She was afraid she might say something regretful.
She waited impatiently for a moment, before hearing him enter. “I am so glad you’re here.” She stated truthfully, “I have much to brief you on. However,…” She hesitated a moment with conflict in her posture and eyes. Her brows furrowed. No. This must be done now. Or she would find no peace. She had found little peace in the last few years after her excommunication. This could be her last shot at trying. But Cissnei was not used to revealing her feelings. ShinRa taught her missions and social masks to obtain objectives. Feelings were not something to wear on one’s sleeves. Nor were they easy for her to interpret and explain. So, for her to show them frankly to anyone was a strong sign of trust.
She took a deep breath and look up directly at him. “I first need…closure.” She paused again. Is that the proper way to handle this type of situation? Directness? She knew other women tend to make others guess, as if it were a game. But Cissnei hated beating around the bush. “I don’t have all of my memories. But, I do remember some of my stronger ones. Such as when I was excommunicated…” Cissnei did not need to explain what she meant. Tseng knew. He and Rufus orchestrated it. “It devastated me for a time. It was one of the few things that could. And you did it.” She felt the memories of it stir up emotions in her. Her eyes watered, and the lump was back in her throat. She bit the inside of her cheek. At first it looked like she was going to walk up to him, and maybe strike him. But she stopped an arm’s length away, and trembled as she looked down. “But it was no different, it took me by surprise was all. My own biological family abandoned me. ShinRa abandoned me. The Turks abandoned me.” This time she did angrily grip his lapel, tightening her fist at the terrible feelings that swelled in her. “And now, it is like Gaia herself abandoned me and dropped me here.” She felt hot tears sting her cheeks. She was hurt and angry. She made to shake him, “Was I really so useless that I needed to be cut out? Or perhaps it was because I disobeyed you too many times?”
But with a soft push away from her she let him go, and she turned away slightly from him. “But that is selfish of me isn’t it? The other Turks you saved, they had family and acquaintances to return to. They had lives to take back. And for that, I am grateful. I just wished I had died an honorable death either at Zirconiade’s battle or by ShinRa military. It would have been a kinder, cleaner end for me…”
She kept turned away from him. She hated looking like how she did. Showing weakness was not easy for her. But she really needed to do this. “I just want to know what you were thinking. I can come up with many reasons and ideas. But I need to hear it from you directly.”
