>w> I don’t draw gender-bends hardly ever.
But I got waaaay too frustrated with all the Female Vincents floating around. >n>;
Sooo…I made my own. And threw Reeve into the mix because POWERSUITS OH YEAH.
Plus they are cuties.♥
I am pretty happy with the outcome.♥♥
Shalua Rui had always loved her personal space, she’d been one to sit on her own, knowing that she’d enjoy the comfort of not being surrounded for once.
But this was not unwelcome, this was something she had expected— three weeks with minimal contact would be hard on anyone. So she sighed, leaning into the embrace, accepting it, knowing full well that he needed her as much as she needed him. Her hand made of flesh and blood settled on the back of his head, and the gears of metal around his back.
It was a comfort— something that he needed and for once something she wanted.
After all, he was a Shinra.
Rufus looked at his gift. It wasn’t much, but how did one buy for a woman who had everything she wanted, despite having nearly no money? He sighed, looking at her empty office. He missed her. He hated himself for admitting this. She said she would return that day, Valentines day of all worthless days, and here he stood, looking at her empty office. He sighed unhappily, but told himself to buck up.
After all, he was a Shinra.
The gift jingled in the box as he walked and set it on her desk. It had been two weeks, the same as any business endevour, but for some reason, this time, he felt empty without her presence. Tseng had said he was finally understanding ‘love’ and human emotions, but Rufus had shrugged the Turk off.
After all, he was a Shinra.
He sat on the edge of her desk, looking at her seat. Two weeks; her chair looked so lifeless, so cold without her there. He could have laughed at himself, pondering how her office looked without her in it. He shook his head, dusting off the desk with his hand before setting down the box gently.
Inside was a set of keys. The spare to his house. He could think of no better gift to her, not then. He was not ready to give her his heart, so he gave something close to it. His home.
After all, he was a Shinra.
"Happy Valentine’s day," he murmured to the empty room.
Come back soon…
Mideel had needed the careful hands of a organiser after an earthquake— it had needed doctors and engineers. She had been the one to accept the project, telling everyone she’d have the community working like clockwork as soon as February rolled around. However, by the seventh of that month, she had realised that Mideel needed more work than just a week, so she had phoned the people that had mattered most, and told them it would be a while longer. Rufus, had not picked up his phone, but she had been kind enough to leave a message, winding the phone cord around her metal fingers, a promise that she’d be home soon. Schedules never meant much to her and Shelke— Shelke floated from place to place, but Rufus had rooted her, tying her to the idea that there was a place to come home to, that she was loved, and wanted.
It had been so long since she had loved another unrelated and been loved in return so freely. There was no hiding this time— there was only threats and snark, peppered with smiles and laughter. She was happy, and standing in the middle of Mideel, terribly homesick for a man. “Doctor Rui?” A worker had called to her, a hard hat covering most of his head, the WRO crest emblazoned upon it— “I think, we’re gonna be okay now. Thank you for your help.”She wanted to protest, but the days had turned into weeks and she simply nodded, offering personal advice of the rebuild of the lower part of Mideel, and it’s hospital with promises that the required instruments would be shipped in the coming weeks. However, without much though she excused herself, pulling the PHS from her pocket and scheduling a flight and she ran through the inn and paid her tab. A two hour flight would take her back into the heart of the WRO, where she was greeted with happy faces and those wondering if Mideel was running once again.
However, she simply brushed them all off, stating her report would be in as soon as she had the numbers and figures from the chief project manager, promising that Mideel was running at least fifty percent at this point in time, a far cry better than the crippled system three weeks ago. Her excuse was that she was tired, she wanted to pick up her mail and retire to her home, which was half true. She needed to retrieve her mail, but a stop at her private safe was also required for something she had bought months ago. Valentine’s day had never been something high ranking on her list of things she had paid much attention to in her spotty romantic past, but she had become hopeful and that was something that she’d never readily had. However, what was the thing that you gave to the man who once owned the world? Childhood. Once upon a time, at many of their dinners, he had spoken about the rashness of his father wanting him to be ready to be king of the world. Schooling was first, and then finally childhood was a the bottom of the list. So she had gotten him a pass good for one free weekend of childhood, and had to jump through so many hoops to get the tickets that she wanted, and the weekend off— of course she hadn’t cleared it with the Turks, but she figured that Rufus would tell them to get lost.
But, as she rummaged through her safe, the box on her desk caught her eye, the silver paper and the neat handwriting was indicative of one person— it was Rufus. She had promised him Valentine’s day at the latest, but there were people that needed her, and she was someone that couldn’t have said no. She locked the safe, tickets tucked safely inside her duster— and moved to the box, hands carefully removing the top and showing her a silver she thought she’d never be given by another soul— keys to a home, his home. The note was tucked away, and she pulled her bag to her, knowing that the route to his office was simple and it was a Saturday— they both worked Saturday. Many wanted her attention as she marched down the hall and pushed past those standing guard by his door, and opened it. Only to let her luggage drop to the floor, her shoulders shaking as she stood, close to tears
"You!" It was almost angry, but her voice cracked when she said it, "What did I ever do— to end up with the most caring man on the face of the planet." And she couldn’t even keep a promise, and he’d given her the one thing that she wanted the most: stability. She pulled the papers from her duster and marched up to his desk, placing them carefully, "I’m so sorry I was gone, I really am."
☛ GET INSIDE YOUR CHARACTER'S HEAD! aka The Excessively Detailed Headcanon MemeAsk a question, any question!
1: What does their bedroom look like?
2: Do they have any daily rituals?
3: Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?
4: What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?
5: Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)
6: Eating habits and sample daily menu
7: Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time
8: Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging
10: Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?
11: Intellectual pursuits?
12: Favorite book genre?
13: Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?
14: Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)
15: Biggest and smallest short term goal?
16: Biggest and smallest long term goal?
17: Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress
18: Favorite beverage?
19: What do they think about before falling asleep at night?
20: Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?
21: Turn-ons? Turn-offs?
22: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?
23: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?
24: Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?
25: How do they see themselves 5 years from today?
26: Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?
27: What is their biggest regret?
28: Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?
29: Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)
30: Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)
31: Most prized possession?
32: Thoughts on material possessions in general?
33: Concept of home and family?
34: Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)
35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
36: What makes them feel guilty?
37: Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?
38: What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?
39: Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?
40: How misanthropic are they?
42: How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?
44: Superstitions or views on the occult?
45: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?
46: If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?
47: How do they express love?
48: If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?
49: Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?
Love was a tepid word that she dared not use lightly. She and Shelke did not even exchange the word in parting— of course many told them that they should, because was a fleeting thing that they needed to grasp, of course Shalua did not feel the same.
When she loved, which was rare and boiled down to a hand full of people— she did not feel as if she was grasping at smoke or having fleeting pains in her chest, the over loneliness that was romanticised by the theatres and the media. No, Shalua was silent and calm, evaluating what was best for all parties involved.
She was not one to halt her schedule for daydreaming when she knew all well that her loved ones would see her soon enough. She did not fit the norm of a woman in love, oft crowing her the title of ice queen— which of course was something she pushed aside. It was a frivolous title that did not concern her— she knew how she processed love.
It was never to take away from her work, and when she was at home— she’d spare a moment of thought, her one second of frivolity to think on those who touched her life. She’d think of them with kind ness as she clutched a cup— her thoughts wavered to those people when there were no schedules or dates to meet.
ooc; The boys are upset? OH THIS IS TEARING SHALUA APART