Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit gained. This is a fanwork.
Characters/Pairings: Darshan (An OC)
Summary: Darshan debates...
Notes: First in a stlil-planned-but-horribly-jossed set of stories about Sephiroth growing up.
Looking out his office window, Darshan couldn't help but wonder just what the 'surprise' was going to be. He was hopeful for a vacation, but it wasn't exactly anywhere on the company's agenda to give anyone any sort of positive 'surprise'.
Darshan let a slight chuckle escape his throat before turning to peek into his top desk drawer. It was neat, orderly, as was the rest of his desk. If the 'surprise' invloved his death, at least he'd die with his desk clean.
Still, he was a SOLDIER, strong and proud. He'd always had dreams of dying in battle.
It was better to think of the 'surprise' as vacation, he decided. After all, the clock on the wall told him he had only five minutes until he knew the truth. So it was better to think about the positive.
A vacation would be nice, perhaps to Costa del Sol to relax in the baking sun of the Western Continent. It would be a nice break from the impurities of Midgar.
He wanted to go back to Junon, he realized at that exact moment. Even Junon was better than official business in Midgar. The tiny ball of resentment he tried not to host suddenly grew. He was in Midgar enough to need a desk, an office of his own.
Darshan wanted to be out in the field, fighting, training, dying. It was what he did.
With a sigh, Darshan stood and stretched. He'd thrown together a quick outfit mixing standard SOLDIER apparel with his own accessories. His hair was bound back, hanging down his back like a rope. Thick bangs played across his forehead, only helping to enhance the unnatural gleam in his pale eyes.
They'd been light before the Mako, but now they were such a pale blue that they sometimes threatened to vanish into the white surrounding. In the heat of battle, they called him a demon god. But only then.
He was strict otherwise, he knew, but effective.
Two minutes. Hopefully the 'surprise' was at least a one-way ticket to Junon. Or anywhere. Anywhere but some assignment in Midgar.
A vacation. That would be nice. Somewhere far away where he could fend for himself, catch his own food and fight for his life.
Not that ShinRa would let their demon god far from their sight. That was the only problem with being owned property. Darshan knew the ShinRa owned him. He may have paid off his debt years ago, but once the ShinRa owned someone, they always did.
One minute. There was a knock at his door. Sometimes being early was as bad as being late. One early swing with a sword and it could mean death, just as one late swing could bring the same. To Darshan, timing was everything.
The ShinRa had horrible timing.
Darshan walked to the door and opened it, not bothering to call to his visitor to enter. He wanted to greet his fate.
But instead of a firing squad or anyone at all official looking, a somewhat nervous cadet stood just past the doorway.
"General Darshan?" the man, no... boy stammered.
Darshan blinked. He was expecting a permanent vacation to the depths of the lifestream. Instead he now seemed to have a scrawny teen boy with messy silver hair.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!