#.obocc

[onryou-onryou]

Oblique Occasions - parhelion lp

[turkleader]

Sacrifice

“Why do you listen to them?” Tseng asked, casting his head to one side, grey eyes settling the fair face adjacent him with curiosity.

A curious, sharp gaze turned to meet his unflinchingly. It inflicted wounds unwarily, even when its caster meant no harm, Tseng realized with muted indifference. It did not affect him. In correspondence, the other’s deep voice met his query in leisure. “Why do you?”

Tseng smiled instinctively, for a bare moment, before closing his eyes and letting out a low “Hmph” in consideration, not dismissal. He turned his head back and let it recline against the lounge’s couch.

“I chose this path. You,” he pointed out, “were never taught you had a choice.”

His companion leaned forward, and with the sensation of motion Tseng’s eyes parted, studious gaze following the other’s shift. Wings of silver slid over muscular shoulders, flew forward to crest his face. He rested his arms on his thighs, and clasped his hands together, intertwining his fingers as the Turk watched, quiet eyes following the thoughtful trail of green.

The Turk gazed on him in silence as the minutes passed. Eventually, his own gaze shuttered. He rose to his feet, and looked forward, stepping around the low coffee table and towards the door.

“What’s holding you here?” were the words he spoke as he slid the keycard and grasped the door handle, knowing the Soldier First would hear him. He turned his head back, and found the emerald eyes slow to rise and meet his own. But they held strong.

“They’re using you,” the Turk whispered. “Like they’re using me. Only I know it, and you… don’t.”

The Soldier’s eyes were listening, but silent.

“I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t let them,” Tseng continued.

“And that’s why you talk to me?”

“Is that so bad?” the Turk answered in query.

“Why don’t you leave, Tseng?” the silver haired Soldier asked again, rising to his feet, so that Tseng had to raise his glance to meet his eyes.

“Because they’re my responsibility,” Tseng answered, and intuitively, the Soldier knew he meant his Turks. The Wutaian man seemed to hesitate. Then, “I won’t leave them.”

The Soldier waited, could almost hear the other man’s heartbeat. It was calm.

“Perhaps it is you who should leave,” the taller male suggested lowly.

The Turk turned away. “There are others who will still die that way,” he said softly.

[geechiekingapparel]

For Every Geechie King, There’s A Geechie Queen.... geechiekingapparel.com https://www.instagram.com/p/B0bv7-OBocc/?igshid=1wix0zmm15ai5

[turkleader]

[ooc] Here is the only other FFVII fic written by the same author. It is about Tseng’s relationship with Zack primarily, and it is just as stunningly powerful and magnificent. AzarDarkstar? Should you ever come across this, please know how grateful I am to you for this priceless gift you’ve bestowed upon the world. ...your two fics? They mean everything to Tseng, and everything to me. Thank you, friend.

[turkleader]

When was the last time you cut your hair?

*Lifts both brows and pauses for a time, letting his gaze trail to the side as he thinks it over.* …I would have to say… a little over ten to fifteen years ago. *Returns his gaze to the questioner.* It was around the time I first left my country to come east, and found myself here on the Eastern Continent. It was a rebellious action, I must admit. *A slow quirk touches his mouth and he smiles slightly.* Many of the things I did at that age were impromptu and curt. Thus the short ponytail I ended up sporting for a good handful of years. *He chuckles.*