The belly of the best was ahum as two astride its back made their trek. An unexpected lullaby for the one dubbed “birthday girl”. Twas not long before the destination was met && Fenrir is reigned in, steady murmur silenced. The attempt to rouse the slumbering damsel was gentle && tender. A gradual roll of shoulder broad && voice tuned to soothing ballads. ❝ Tifa, we’re here. ❞ O’ rise she blessed with beauty ! Succumb not to the curse of the spindle’s prick ! Far from the usual concrete jungle the night’s embrace is nigh suffocating. Cloaked in darkness abound save for heaven’s tears 'bove. Stars seemingly winking for her amusement alone. && this was his gift. A moment meant for just two, && the taste of time long past yet shared. Although, despite the intended offering it was Tifa herself that was treasured. ❝ Happy Birthday . . . ❞ His reach envelops, a soft compress of wind-chapped lips brought to her brow, && words of vowed endearment whispered to her temple. A temple indeed, watch him worship.
Only in dreams hatched by little girls in dresses && curls, does a man adorning features of porcelain laid steel whisk her to far places. lives of the turmoil sedated folks that he && she belonged to, crested, destroyed in the very eyes of gods less holy then they seem. it is she, the she-warrior of lost souls that creates her paths of retribution for them both. she who conquers blackness in the minds of struggling victims && emptying the hearts of the somber plague.
Valkyrie. leading men to their eternal, saving them from their blood soaked battlefields && forgiving their trespasses. t’was the task she had been granted when his poisoned air returned to her. lost, broken, alone. everything she had ever been && more. years of toil, a goddess among the wreckage of hearth, home. to serve him when he could not do it himself. It was her curse to bare, she never asked for much else.
Even as love had took root in equal hearts, shattered pieces stuck together with mud && foliage. aging with the light of the moon, innocent, hesitant. for she knew a push would send them teetering. t’was a surprise when he took it upon himself, without a reminder, without a suggestion falling from her lips. she was not a woman of material things, not when it came to love && the childlike wonder it brought to her. for words were never something strongly shared between either of them.
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