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aheadonourway
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May 2007
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jameva [userpic]
Cid Highwind - Tiny Dead Bronco

Title: Tiny Dead Bronco
Fandom: FFVII
Rating: G
Theme: #13, Lost
Characters: Cid 
Summary: Even he had to admit defeat sometimes.

Cid wasn’t sentimental. Or at least he liked to think he wasn’t. Standing in his courtyard, the grass yellow and burned and dead from oil, grease and other nameless substances, looking at the wreck that remained of the Tiny Bronco, puffing smoke rings at regular intervals, he threatened himself not to become sentimental. 

It really wasn’t worth the work it had taken to drag it out of the water and back in Rocket Town. And it sure had been one great waste of time for a lot of people, himself included. But it could still float, and the engine still ran a little, so he’d been sure he’d be able to beat it back into shape. 

The thought made Cid cringe and chew on his cigarette, interrupting the flow of smoke rings. %?@*& waste of time and gil, that’s all it had been. 

The engine had given up on him quickly, the water damage too extensive, and even out of the water half the wires had eventually shot up in a great big sparkle, sending a fire throughout its guts that had taken the rest of it along for the ride. That had taken chunks in far many too places, and even Cid had had to call it quits. 

His cigarette was almost out, but Cid kept on puffing and chewing just to have something to distract himself with. 

Cid didn’t blame anyone but Shinra. He’d rarely blamed anyone but Shinra, for anything. But he fully attributed the Tiny Bronco’s demise to them. Of course, if he’d refused to follow Cloud, if he’d just towed them back to land and hauled the plane back into Rocket Town somehow, maybe it really could’ve been saved. However that was another story and he didn’t regret his decision. A whole lot more things might have been lost, otherwise.

Cid eyed the chipped paint that remained, the pink now a faded shade, washed by ocean salt and the sun; eyed the broken contours of the wings. Couldn’t even bloody recognize the thing. 

With a frustrated “Fuck”, Cid threw his cigarette down, stamped on it with more force than strictly required, and turned his back on the Tiny Bronco. He flipped his PHS opened. He wasn’t sentimental. This thing was a wreck, and you have to get rid of useless wrecks.