Windy’s first mission outside of Midgar heralds hir first time in a helicopter. It is not a fun experience.
“Oh Hel, why,” Windy groans, fingers pale with how desperately he is grabbing at the fabric of his uniform trousers trying not to puke. His hair, as always, is an absolute loss, whipping about in bright blonde curls.
Reno, that ass, brays with laughter, smacks hir shoulder and shouts, “Better get used to it, rookie. This is how Turks travel in style!”
Rude, while not as obnoxious as his partner, still manages to give off a vibe of smug superiority.
This mission, unlike all of WIndy’s previous missions, actually matters. It’s why there are a pair of actual Turks accompanying her. Or, rather, why she is accompanying them. If Windy performs well enough on this mission, she’ll finally be officially accepted into the Turks. Instead of a trainee running errands all around Midgar.
“Beginning descent,” Knife warns before, suddenly, the helicopter ride gets worse by plummeting a hundreds of feet. Probably not really, but it might as well, going by the increase in Windy’s nausea. Her Turk mentor does not believe in coddling.
When they finally land on solid ground, Windy can proudly say that he did not embarrass himself by a) puking or b) dropping to the ground in gratitude and weak knees. Unfortunately, Windy’s hair is a mess and his incessant clutching has wrinkled the new Turk uniform he was given just this morning.
In comparison to Rude and Knife’s immaculate suits, and Reno’s roguish yet tasteful casualness, Windy’s dishevelment is noticeable and… a little shameful. Quickly zie runs her hands through hir hair, wincing but silently pulling it through tangles, and pats down the wrinkles in the midnight blue fabric as best as zie can.
The senior Turks are obligingly patient as she does this, though they are far more amused than he’d prefer.
“Today we’re checking in on some… suspicious activity in the Fort Condor generator. Someone is either willfully or ignorantly fucking up and we need to find out who, and we need to stop this.” Knife barely explains before leading their small but deadly group of four towards the ShinRa generator.
In the distance, Windy can see the townspeople staring at them. Ahead of them, the troopers stationed at the entrance visibly straighten their posture.
Looking at them makes her wonder how her brother is doing… but that just reminds Windy of the last time they saw each other and their less than amicable parting. The Strife brothers were as different as twins could have been; even their fellow cadets knew that Wind would have made an excellent SOLDIER. Cloud? Not so much. Too bad it was all a lie.
The trooper’s gazes are tinged with more fear than the admiration that would have been aimed at a SOLDIER, but Turks get respect too.
Windy hopes zie doesn’t fuck this up.
~
A/N: I’m more fond of Windy than I think I can justify… and yes, I purposefully mixed up pronouns because Windy really does think of hirself as different genders depending on what zie is doing or thinking.
And yet another drabble which doesn’t include the actual prompt word.
JackSGreyson Says 