Frozen Images

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 04:18:00 GMT

WHY hasn't the Kaiser been found yet? I demand doubled numbers and efforts immediately.

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 09:00:54 GMT

I'm being urged to celebrate the holiday. I hear they're holding a Masquerade in one of my... preferred places to visit. Perhaps I'll attend, now that I'm not longer contained.

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:51:12 GMT

And so I find that scientist are separated into two categories. If one does not act in the attempt to understand the workings of the Gods, one acts to become God.

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 05:14:49 GMT

Zeng fixes the cuffs of his new suit, something a bit different from the usual work garb- a touch more old-century, but still modern enough to look sleek and successful. He checks himself in the angled mirrors to make sure he's entirely presentable, undoing the tie keeping his hair back and brushing himself. With another check-over he nods to his tailor, writing him in a fair tip to take from the normal credit purchase.

He heads outside onto the streets of the upper plate, figuring on getting himself some tea from one of the teahouses before perhaps catching one of the operas in town. Even the hard-working First in Command needs nights off.

Sat, 26 Aug 2006 09:26:39 GMT

A rough hashing of lines from Dracula by Bram Stoker, for the amusement of a few particular individuals.

"It is only the beginning!"

What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell... He was very pale... hard, and cruel, and sensual... a tall, thin man, clad in black... What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in the semblance of man?.

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 07:19:52 GMT

Zeng's taken the evening off after seeing his Kaiser to his suite. To manage the recent onslaught of stress, he's relaxing in a Wutai teahouse with proper old Wutai music. A rare pleasure and nothing else like it.

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 14:06:26 GMT

((EDITED now that writer is fractionally more coherent))

He was intending to port in by the labs. When he finds himself in his suite, he's not comforted. He coughs heavily into his hand, not surprised at the amount of blood he draws away in it. His other hand is pressed tightly to the wound in his abdomen where he's been completely run through and blood seeps through both the front and back of the suit.

His vision blurs and he stumbles into his writing desk, nearly falling on it before righting himself gracelessly and using the walls to get him to the door of his suite. He nearly collapses a few times as his legs try to give out, but desperate will is enough to keep him moving. Blood coats where his hand touches the wall and each step earns a fresh stain in the carpet before he finally shoulders the door open, sending him stumbling into the opposite wall of the hallway and in another hacking fit. The door slides shut but he's not really caring, heading for the elevator and fumbling his ID card out.

He's lucky it's a sick hour of the morning and the elevators are mostly unused, allowing him one within a matter of seconds. It takes a couple deep breaths and a long moment of gritting his teeth as he swipes the card and presses the button. There's the lurch and he falls back against the elevator wall as it begins moving, shuddering and trying not to compare this familiar sensation to the incident with the General. The copper taste in his mouth is enough to make him sick and he tries to remind himself not to close his eyes.

The door chimes as it opens and he grips it with one hand, pulling himself from it out onto the labs floor with more effort than he should be able to manage. He's vaguely aware in a back part of his brain that the blood he's trailing everyone is going to lead to a lot of questions and cleaning; funny how your mind will inform you of that in the midst of screaming pain. He gets as far as the locked security door, numbly swiping his card and waiting for someone to note his entrance request, each heart beat making his head swim and his red-edged vision blur. He's barely conscious of the warm, thick liquid oozing through his fingers and dripping on the marble, nor each attempt of breathing that results in an aching burn. It seems like hours and he braces his hand against the wall as he tries to support himself, the blinking red light signaling his request giving an awful counter-rhythm to his heartbeat. Things take a strange tin-y feature, hollow and muffled before his vision tunnels out. He barely manages a glimpse of the door opening before everything sparks a muddy red, and then solid black.

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 19:04:08 GMT

I find myself... with a terrible headache and a slight haze of memory. I don't believe I've had anything to drink in some time. Curious.

Sat, 08 Jul 2006 02:43:19 GMT

I find myself running dangerously thin on reading material. This will not do.

((Also, we now have what pretends to be a Shin-Ra bio for Tseng))

Thu, 15 Jun 2006 08:51:25 GMT

*sighs* I wouldn't mind the harm to myself if it did not involve the attacker ruining my suits in the process. *examines the damage* If I were any less of a man, I'd follow Reno's example and pick the pockets of the victims just to cover this. Of course, I wouldn't lower myself to such standards.

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 07:48:33 GMT

I love nights like this.

Sun, 28 May 2006 10:46:57 GMT

Tseng found himself more thankful than usual that he was on good terms with Professor Hojo as he downed a handful of pain killers mixed with a couple sedatives.

With a worn thin sigh he turned on the small radio he had bedside and laid down, wincing and carefully arranging himself to rest comfortably.

Sun, 21 May 2006 14:43:48 GMT

Tseng runs his fingers across a light gouge in the surface of his wooden desk, glancing to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his room. If one looks close enough and can catch the almost minute falters in his guard, they'd note an uncharacteristic anxious impatience in his behavior.

After a long moment he finishes the last of his stack of his paperwork he rises from his chair and heads to the elevator to find one of the areas similar to that given to SOLDIERs for sparring with the busters. As a Turk he spent most of his time with a gun in hand but it was still a welcomed respite to wield properly forged and tempered steel. He practiced often, mostly in solitude.

In any case, there was no harm in spending one's spare time in swordplay before a mission. If he was lucky he may even find a partner.

Sat, 20 May 2006 06:17:28 GMT

I had forgotten how much I enjoy reading The Art of War. Always a pleasure to read, if not a bit brief. Quite a shame so few have bothered to pick it up.

Ah, here are a few points I rather like.
"To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."

"The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of its own accord before there are any actual hostilities...It is best to win without fighting."

"Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate."

Tue, 09 May 2006 01:35:14 GMT

You wished to speak with me, Sir?
I believe you mentioned something of missions?

Sun, 07 May 2006 23:40:31 GMT

"Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven."
-- Milton, Paradise Lost. Book I. ll 261 - 63.

Sun, 07 May 2006 04:11:14 GMT

Something isn't right. Excuse me, my Kaiser, but I'm afraid I must leave a bit earlier. *bows head* You may take it from my vacation. I have something of pressing importance to see to quickly. I'll make this inconvenience up to you, sir.

[locked to all but Saïx]

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 02:33:01 GMT

There's a note left on the desk of Saïx' private study where it won't be intercepted, scripted in the neat hand of Tseng. The note reads:

"Forgive me, Sir, but do to some unforeseen circumstances, I will have to take care of your pawn tonight. It seems a few mice have crawled from the woodwork and they're becoming something of a nuisance and a problem. Hopefully this will not interfere with your plans; please contact me if it should. I'll see what alternatives we have in the meantime. If there are no complications with this change, simply contact me when you find time to watch and I'll begin.

Tseng"

It occurs to me; perhaps I enjoy my job too much?

Wed, 19 Apr 2006 17:28:59 GMT

Hmmm. This should be enjoyable. It's been awhile since I've been allowed a copy-cat murder.
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas- it's a very good book. I do suggest you read it.

As for this death... Brucine in lemonade should prove the best course of action. I would use Strychnine, but I'm afraid it might kill him a bit too quickly. How enjoyable it is to do a proper book assassination again. One of my... small joys in life.

My dear Sir, he will truly suffer some of the most excruciating pain imaginable before he dies. I hope it suits your tastes.

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 00:08:04 GMT

I've returned from my... mission at Icicle Inn. I'll be in my office should I be needed.

Fri, 04 Nov 2005 01:48:19 GMT

No, I will not explain the event of earlier today. I will see to it that it doesn't happen again.

Mon, 03 Oct 2005 21:42:14 GMT

Pardon my delay in getting this to you, Hsiao.

I've spoken with the President and, should you desire the work, he will be happy to employ you. Whenever you have a response, please feel free to contact either of us. I'll answer any questions you may have.

Sun, 18 Sep 2005 03:26:10 GMT

I fail to see why you think there's something more to me, dear lady writer. Yes, I'm not so daft as to not notice your quiet whispering about myself. Is it really all that odd for a person to simply be well adjusted and considerate and not have some sort of terrible secret or dark side? It's my job to make sure everyone else's jobs are easier. I make things run smooth, I fix problems that I can't avoid.

Is it that hard to trust me?

(and thank you for the charming set of icons.)