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Purple Nurples
Cuz we're practicing to keep that liqour down.
Mercy? (Final Fantasy) 
21st-May-2007 07:27 pm
Cute - Annoyed Kitty

Title: Mercy?
Author: burningsunset
Rating: I'd say PG-13
Category: Final Fantasy AU, Angst, Original
Word Count: 827
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy rocks, isnt mine ... and you know the drill! If you like TS you join the game! We RP and we rock! SPN fandom rocks my socks, they inspired me!
Summary: Saora's got a new job.
Notes: This belongs to an RPG that currently is hosted here and will soon move here (Freeform for Final Fantasy) She is a gunner. And she has a heavy past (She is based on FF VIII). Her father is a general with the Galbadian Army, Saora blames him for getting her brother killed. She lost all contact with her family. She hates her father. And no, she's really not that angsty. She got over it, and she is no longer the girl that wanted to be a soldier like her brother. (Saora was 17 when he died, she is now around 25). And she has changed ...

„She’s a mother. Two kids. That a problem for you?“

Saora’s gaze remains steeled on the man’s face. Reak, what a name. She shrugs. “Why should it?” Snatching the little brown leather bag filled with an amount of Gil that would get her through several months she turns around and heads for the door. “You got it. I’ll come for the rest when it’s done.” Dark eyes are following the uneasy twitch in the man’s demeanour as she finally averts her eyes. For a brief moment, the dark haired ex-soldier wonders whether any of this should have unsettled her.

When she finally steps out of the shed that only pretended to be a house, she takes a deep breath. Yes, there should have been. Well, if your nose took easy offence anyway. She wonders what had been shadier about that fella named Reak. The smell of dirty sex in a dump somewhere with an exemplar of this society that would barely score above a walking corpse? Terminal death was a given here. Or maybe it was the dirty little smile that had made Saora want to pull her gun and put him out of his miserable existence. But, maybe, it was the shadowed eyes that stood just that little bit too close to each other. The kind of eyes that Saora’s last job had featured as a target.

A smile spreads across her lips when she remembers the dumbfounded look on the man’s face just a few days ago. That look you get when a gun’s round creates a pretty new hole for breathing just below your adam’s apple. It got even better when she added another one right between the orbs made of dirty blue. The red of his blood had accented the colour of his eyes.

For a brief moment she wonders if she would smile like that next time. Somewhere deep in her gut, she knew that Reak had probably set her on a woman only he had a quarrel with. A mother she was. Saora’s shoulders tighten a little. Was she supposed to take care of the kids, too? Instinctively, Saora muses on what weapons would be most suited to take possible witnesses out. Yet, the kids weren’t part of the deal. Why would she? Mercy?

Seeing your own mother in a puddle of blood on her own bed? Fucks you up. No really, it does. Saora knows all about it. The thought makes her smirk. A reaction that, by now, is almost natural when this memory comes to her. It’s just that thing when your mother’s skirt seems to be just that little too far up on her legs, that her hair is unwashed and that there are several empty bottles of alcohol on her bed stand? That adds the level of "royally" to it.

A shiver runs up her back, and the dark haired woman blames it on the breeze. It is chilly. Really! Out of a reflex she pulls her cloak closer around her and walks on.

She ponders the thought to slice their throats. The kids! Stay with me, will you?

Growing up without your mother? Sucks! Surviving the family tragedy without her? Sucks even more. Having a father that killed your brother and can barely hug you or your mother? Don’t get me started! The smirk that grows on Saora’s lips is cruel. She doesn’t notice the disturbed look on a woman’s face walking towards her when she sees the dark haired woman’s facial expression. Doesn’t matter. No, it really doesn’t. Why would you care about what a stranger you walk past on some street thinks about you? If Saora had seen the expression, it would have amused her. Try having a general for a father, who forgets you’re alive after he gets his eldest son killed. The one you loved. No! Not like that. He was your brother. He was … your everything.

Again, Saora shivers. She curses the breeze and turns into a narrow ally. It’s deserted. She is relieved. People are crazy. Fiends are just evil. They are ok to handle. You just cast [Stop] on them and then you empty a magazine of bullets into their sorry asses. Well, you do that if you’re Saora. You do that if you saw your mother like that, after your father killed your brother. And you laugh about it. Because it’s what you’re good at; because you’re good at killing things and you’re good at making sure they’re dead.

Yes, Saora is good at that. She can make sure that things are dead.

She laughs.

Mercy? Nope, not her thing. She survived her mother in a puddle of blood. Yes, she really did. Those kids aren’t her business. One bullet is all it would take.

So, Saora wonders. Anything to get upset about? No. She shakes her head. Nothing here to disturb this ex-soldier.

She smiles. All that Gil will ensure her one mighty-fine meal tonight.

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