ɪʟʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ

          it’s quick,  really.  the blink of an eye sort of thing where all you can do is breathe in,  breathe hard,  and wait for your body to make impact.  she barely registers cloud’s voice.  she doesn’t notice his arms.  or his chest.  or the way the ground feels more like a person than packed dirt.  

     at least,  not until he speaks.  at least,  not until she cracks her eyes and catches the glint of his.  

          ❛  oh  — ,  ❜     comes her voice,  half-buried in gravel as she nudges his arms open and rolls onto the ground beside him.      ❛  are you okay?  ❜     she is,  apparently.  had enough spare air in her lungs to eek out a couple of sentences post-fall.  

     ‘when you said bodyguard,  i wasn’t expecting it to be like this. ’

          ❛  no?  ❜      she tilts her head,  trying to catch his eye again,  lips tugging toward something resembling a smile.      ❛  you should really update your definition of bodyguard .  .  .  anyway,  i was just trying to keep you on your toes.  ❜     

      a beat.      ❛  or,  well,  maybe not,  considering.  .  .  ❜    

  ❛Think you broke me.❜

He’s supposed to be acting-- well. Cooler than this. Yet it’s difficult to maintain such while on ones back, weight of sword solidly digging up against ones spine, tailbone thoroughly bruised and pride right alongside. He’d done his job at least; despite disgruntled expression creeping its way across his face, despite eyes that peer stubbornly upwards in determination to ignore that which scrabbled away from his form, and despite dry tone ripe upon lips. After the day he’s had-- after the falls he’s taken-- he finds himself well within rights to sulk a little despite her apparent humor. 

  ❛That’ll cost you extra.❜ 

Not that he was getting paid anyway, but-- 

It’s with the dramatized whoosh of a groan that he sits upright, shakes dirt from hair beyond saving, and eases himself up onto feet. If he wobbled along the way, well-- best not to take notice. 

A quick glance downwards - she’s alright - and then head tilts away as mental battle resumes: to offer her a hand, or not. 

Stubborn as he was, the temptation to leave her be was oh so great, spite almost clawing its way free. That’d teach her to watch where she was going. 

Yet--- Hand falls down, fingers spread wide, and offer is extended forth. He might be a jerk, but--well. As of late, it’s become easier and easier to waver.

He didn’t expect company. A place looking as desolate as this would convince anyone that it was a safe spot to hide things, not that Dimitri had much to hide at this point, other than to let out a moment in which he couldn’t show to anyone else. A slip up, is all, but one which condemned him somewhere far. His emotions were always hard to contain, his anger always hard to suppress. Given the right moment and right amount of resemblance, Dimitri could and would lose that control, only then remembering how strong he really was. The dent was something he’d stared at for a good few moments before hiding away in his cloak more. It was exactly what the voices had said to him, that his strength wasn’t worth being owned, if not to bring back the dead. Of course, he’d listened, but managed to hold off doing anything else. Now, he was standing awkwardly, his weapon leaning against the truck, an apology owed.

When hearing an unfamiliar voice, he turned a little too quickly, his lips pursed, a huff escaping. So even here, he couldn’t hide the beast that was laying inside. With a tone that was a bit more gruff than he expected, Dimitri replied: “….Yes.” There was no point in hiding it, considering he was the only one here, and his weapon was clearly on show. He was overtly bitter remembering that luck had never been on his side. All he could do was admit to the defeat and try and hold back how upset he was underneath. After all, there was only so much anger and hurt, and only so many times he could pull of a hearty smile. Dimitri then said, quieter: “….I can pay for that.” A cough. “If.. If you’ll allow me. Is this yours?” Perhaps it looked a little odd to see someone of his build, having witnessed a dent in a truck, suddenly sound so sheepish and formal. His voice truly betrayed him at the best of times.

“I didn’t mean to — that is… I apologise.” In one surprisingly gentle swoop, Dimitri turned to the stranger fully, giving a bow. 

   ❛Uh– S’alright.❜

( There’s folks around that still bow? ) 

Golden brows inching high, it’s with genuine confusion that he watches the other arch downwards before him. Baffled, in fact. Cloud has not been treated with such earnest respect in-- well, for as long as his memory trails back - and thus finds himself almost wary with the fact, aware that the sincerity of such an action may be flawed. A jest, maybe? A mockery in response? 

No. Somehow, Cloud didn’t think that to be true.

   ❛Can you pay?❜ 

Despite the mans clear bulk, it was equally clear that he’d found himself in some kind of disarray to be in a situation such as this. While a settlement was nearby, Cloud had not recalled it being of any great import, nor needing clothing as grand as what the other wore upon his back. His initial guess of a travelling actor may still yet hold some truth, for it explained the curious clothing and his odd mannerisms both; for alongside the bow came speech so proper and polite in form Cloud had almost failed to recognize it. Accented, as well; words of which most others he’d met would seldom allow on their tongues. Most folks around here tended to be of the backwater sort: humble and low in coin besides. The rich had fled both Midgar and Junon as they fell, estates left behind to turn into a looters paradise or rubble alongside homes great or small. 

A beaten up truck was cheap enough to rent, but not to much to fix-- and if the man was as abandoned here as he appeared, Cloud doubted if any price he conjured forth would meet its mark. 

Either way, coin or not, it was hardly worth the hassle. 

Sigh easing its way through pale nose, he motions quickly for the other to rise to full height ( of which was notably greater than his own: hardly a feat, yet recognizable no less ), more awkward than annoyed. At the very least he could at least discover that which the other man had wandered his way over to achieve--- though Cloud had his guess.

ANIMAL: wolf COLOUR: mako blue MONTH:  december SONG:  this NUMBER: 7 ! DAY OR NIGHT: early morning PLANT: lavender SMELL: leather + motor oil SEASON: winter FOOD: hearty stew :9 DRINK: somethin’ hard ELEMENT: ice + thunder

Consideration had never entirely been his prerogative. Although he sits, back curved as elbows rest against knees, he wonders why hesitation would flow through her so readily. For all that they’ve been through-- for all that she’s done for him-- he feels she’s earned that right at the very least. 

Rather, he’s aware that he’d very likely be dead ten times over by now if not for her helping hand. A secure grasp that has kept him from falling time and time again, one that likely will never be paid back in full no matter how long or how hard he tries. There’s little else in the way of blood pact, after all. When ones life belonged to another, there’s few one can do to escape. 

But at least, in this, it is the positive sort. Still, a debt was a debt.

Thus it’s easy to shift a little closer her way; thigh still maintaining distance, but shoulder inched ever so slightly more into her radius, willing to take that weight. While Tifa slumbers, Cloud will take guard; as has been the same many times over, and will likely be exchanged in full in turn.

@folna​ asked : not everything that weighs you down is yours to carry.

relationship aesthetic starters | accepting!

sometimes tidus wonders if cloud really knows how much his words have their effect on him. his companion isn’t the most talkative, so when he says something, tidus listens and he takes it to heart. his burdens had been weighing him down lately, and while memories were still fuzzy, he couldn’t shake this sinking feeling that something big was going to happen to him when this was all over. just – what was it? though, it’s cloud’s perceptiveness that truly catches him off guard. he should have known better than to write off cloud’s quietness as disinterest. the man paid attention more than he probably even let on himself.

            ❝ hey – isn’t that my line? ❞ he can’t help it. the words seem to be more akin to something he’d tell the other, so to hear it flipped on to him has him a little bit on the defensive, even if he’s not displaying that grandly. his will to come off strong is slowly breaking down, though, and he isn’t sure how much more he’ll be able to take until he just breaks apart.

❝ besides. ❞ his shoulders start to shake, and it’s obvious that he’s biting his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. ❝ w-who else is gonna carry it if not me? ❞

Cloud is a man of actions over words. Of physical notions of loyalty rather than subtle attempts of notice, of utterances that could oh so easily be cast aside. While communication came in all forms, he has always been the quiet sort-- careful glances over clasped hands, footsteps aiming forwards, back turned on that which might spawn doubt. It was easy to lose oneself among the waves of it all; an ocean of thought and feeling-- for while his silence tended to reign king, it was not emotion that failed him. While mouth often stayed shut, the feeling of it rarely remained absent. Rather, it was awkwardness that tended to be his downfall. A childhood spent away from those his own age, little in the way of both friends and kin-- his first real encounter having been Tifa-- having ended in tears-- and now, with all of them here, the hesitancy of the past would often continue to claw up its way to the surface and halt that which desired speech. 

However, Tidus was a little different than most of the others here. An extra little thread of connection that made it easier, made words arrive a little stronger.

  ❛We’re a team.❜ 

And here they sit, alone for now, iridescence of his gaze respectfully turned outwards: away from wobbling chin and a hunched back. Cloud could not remember the last time he’d cried, yet still knew not to look down on it. While he worked a little differently than most, as did all.

     A COMMON ENOUGHoccurrence that the man before her seems .. absentminded about her existence & her presence here. his words are a quiet reassurance – but the idea of simply waiting or not truly knowing how to solve this difficulty spikes her anxiety. ( what if it takes her months? years? ) SAKURA chews on her lower lip, worried & thoughtful. not one to leave fate at it, the medic prefers something a little more realistic. she always has. 

      “Hmm … so you wouldn’t know how they did it, then.”

      “Thank you, though. I guess knowing there’s a way back is better than being left with a complete unknown.” her eyes glance back at the flowers, a hum in her throat. if she had been unconscious, the soft petals would have pillowed her fall a little – but she had been awake ;; & the roseate nin had managed to surge chakra through her palms & the soles of her feet for a more graceful landing.  “….Did they all land here? Among the flowers?”

   ❛Dunno.❜ 

And how would he? Although he haunted this place as often as the ghosts that surely resided within its walls, he was not a constant like he used to be. He had work, he had friends, he had-- family now, in fact, a far cry from how life used to be. And while he certainly wandered within the church on occasion, it was less to seek peace within a ravaged body and more to check up on those who still remained for such. The Stigma had nearly been washed away - years since its presentation, and years still since its defeat within the very waters that laid here - yet its effects still lingered. Previously sick bodies now weak with the remnants of it, families torn apart by it, fragmented people left with nowhere else to go: he’d rather do something about that than stress over things beyond control. 

When at his best, he’d always been something of a productive sort.  ( He’d rather not think of himself at his worse. )

   ❛Stay if you want. Or don’t.❜ 

Tired of the conversation, he inches further out into the light; stepping over the flowers in a near mindless action, confidence in the ease of it. A signal to move on.

He’s gotten used to the perfect simplicity of it all. Nature, in all its grandeur and mercilessness, had quickly ensnared him within its grasp: a young man previously disinterested with the way of things, assured of the mindlessness of it all, aware that ones singular impact on the world would remain minimal at best: do your work, live your life, and die as all do. Become dirt, become grass, return to the grand stream. 

There was comfort in that: in the certainty of it all. Of course such things hardly remained that way, of course life would not remain as simple as he’d prefer-- the large dreams of a young boy easily squashed ‘neath cruelty. Yet here, surrounded by the trees and earth, he felt more at peace with oneself that he had done in-- 

Well. A long time. 

Thus it feels easy to eek forth the smallest curve upon lips as sweet treat is offered his way. His appreciation is less towards the food itself, but rather the earnest joy in its presentation: companion clearly proud with his work, eager to share creation with newfound friend. Link reminded Cloud of a kid in many ways: less so due to his age, nor due to his prowess - as he was certainly more than capable of holding his own - but in regards to his earnest displays of emotion. Far unlike Cloud, there appeared little filter in way of each grin, scowl and smile. For as little as the lad talked, it rarely seemed necessary. In many ways, Link had his own language, one unique only to him. There was appreciation in silence.

   ❛Thanks.❜ 

Appreciation aside-- Cloud was perfectly content with a simple bounty of rations or, if he were feeling particularly rambunctious, the unfortunately charred meat of whatever he’d hunted and attempted to cook. While perfectly skilled in the kitchen ( in regards to bare bone basics, that is ) preparing food upon nothing else but a mere campfire and pot had been another matter entirely. At least when AVALANCE had been touring across their world the issue of meals had been a problem shared among all within their party rather than the singular energies of just one. 

Still, the gift is readily accepted, and Cloud finds himself almost excited to sample something clearly made with some practice-- perhaps even finesse? 

    NAMES SHE’S NEVER heard of, tasting foreign on her lips as she repeats them slowly. Gaia. Midgar. Edge. None of it sounds particularly familiar in her ears – & she’s studied the maps thoroughly & meticulously. ( it’s in her nature to be scrupulous. ) gloved fingers reach into the pack strapped to her thigh, grasping onto the scroll that brought this on in the first place. the lack of knowledge she had on it is frustrating ;; only having received instructions to deliver it.

     …. & here she is now. stuck in … a time? a place? so different from the sights she used to see, the sounds of nature she used to hear. ‘ what was it…? some sort of interdimensional jutsu? time travel? ‘ if only the hokage had been a little more forthcoming about it. ( but she knew it wasn’t possible sometimes. ) 

     his advice opens her heart a little, comforted that he would even bother to tell her to take care of the way she’s speaking. revealing an outsider at her worst. if it had been anyone lesser .. perhaps she would’ve been truly stranded & ambushed. “…–R-Right. Thank you.”

      “…..It’s obvious, isn’t it?” the palm of her hand travels up, rubbing the back of her neck gingerly. “You don’t seem surprised to give what should be … common knowledge to anyone here.” perhaps. … he’s seen more like her & would know the way back. “Do you encounter people like me often?”

  ❛Often enough.❜

He speaks as though overly casual, experience perhaps offering him the pretense of an unguarded front. It is not that he doesn’t care, but more that he knows where to place his efforts: locate those that might be lost, offer them what they may need, and see them on their way. He would not mother. He would not dote. He would merely provide them a means to an end-- for his energy could offer only that.

  ❛S’pose whatever it is that’s causing it, it’s out of our hands,❜ 

So what’s the use of fighting?

  ❛And folks seem to find their way back on their own, eventually.❜ 

An unconcerned shrug. While perhaps he should be a tad more worried for those that happened to stumble their way both in and out of his life - and his Planet - Cloud thinks little of it, as such was simply the way of things. People came and went. People lived and died, too. And it was inevitable that she would likely be the same. 

Still, he is not entirely uncaring. There has been a number of lost souls who have found their way back again, and again, and another time. As though hopping across universes was a simple matter of leaving for the day with an intention to return. 

some   would   call   their   friendship   strange   /   uncommon   /   inappropriate   ;   the   difference   in   rank   always   hangs   over   them   ,   a   silken   web   of   rumors   ,   of   gossip   —      he   ignores   it   ,   finds   solace   in   the   young   man   so   similar   to   himself   .   beneath   the   uncertainty   ,   the   nervousness   ,   he   sees   the   impossible   gleam   of   hope   ,   so   much   like   his   own   .   he   wants   to   cradle   that   hope   ,   let   it   grow   into   something   more   ,   something   warmer   ,   something   confident   .   &   so   ,   he   hunkers   down   next   to   cloud   ,   crouched   easily   ,   shoulders   curled   ,   forearms   settled   against   his   thighs   .

&   he   mulls   over   the   question   .   it’s   such   a   simple   thing   &   yet   ,   the   SOLDIER   finds   himself   struggling   to   turn   feelings   into   thoughts   &   thoughts   into   words   .   (  a   touchier   subject   than   either   of   them   suspected   .  )

❝  yeah   ,   of   course   !   i   don’t   miss   the   quiet   .   there   was   never   anything   exciting   to   do   ,   especially   when   my   parents   kept   banning   all   the   good   hangout   spots   from   me   ,   heh   .   they   were   probably   right   to … .  ❞      a   menace   .   truly   .   hyperactive   ,   impulsive   ,   loud   ,   always   so   talkative   —   &   so   clueless   about   the   dangers   of   playing   where   rattlesnakes   nest   ,   &   hunting   for   fireflies   beyond   the   safety   of   the   village   .   oh   ,   the   number   of   times   he   remembers   being   reprimanded   ,   scolded   &   grounded   .

there’s   fondness   in   his   memories   ,   too   .

❝  but   i   miss   my   parents   .   i   wonder   what   they’d   think   of   me   now   …   think   they’d   be   proud   ?  ❞      &   maybe   that’s   why   he’s   never   gone   to   visit   ,   never   used   any   of   his   leave   for   something   anyone   else   would   .   ebon   crown   falls   against   the   wall   they’re   braced   against   ;   ghostly   eyes   flicker   towards   the   younger   man   ,   &   of   course   there’s   no   judgement   in   those   eyes   ,   in   that   smile   ,      ❝  why   ?   you   miss   your   hometown   ?   uhhh …    nibelheim   ,   right   ?   there’s   nothing   wrong   with   being   homesick   ,   y’know   !  ❞

 ❛'Course–❜ 

A touch too eager perhaps, word cutting off quickly along with a near startled expression alongside. He’d rather not seem too baffled by the prospect, that ones parents would not be proud of their son from achieving so much, from doing that which he’d set out to do, rare as it might be. 

  ❛I mean. Maybe.❜  

He corrects himself almost purposefully, adding a grin to it, a quirky little thing near lopsided with the desire to tease. Cloud has never had all that many friends. None at all back home, unless one included Tifa ( although he often found himself halting that train of thought once it started, better not to linger on thoughts preferred left alone, a rabbit hole just waiting to trap him within its midst ) and only a select few here in Midgar. While he could hardly consider himself bullied, he’d always been something of an outsider and was naturally standoffish as a result. Zack had been his first real friend, and the only one at that. Others would grant him a few friendly waves and a smack on the back whenever he did particularly well, but in some ways it often felt mechanical-- forced in nature. With Zack there was a genuine edge to each word, the way his attention felt flawless in its lack of falter. Cloud almost felt overwhelmed by it. Tempted to get swept away by it. Worried that if he grew too fond, too enraptured, that it could be snatched away as quickly as it’d arrived. 

It was nice to have a friend. Geeze-- didn’t that sound pathetic.

Still, Cloud likes hearing Zack talk about himself-- as weird as that sounded. Rather, Cloud liked learning more about him, learning more about what had led him to get where he was today, what had helped shape him as a person. If there was ever someone other than the General to admire, Cloud thinks Zack would be it.

Thus there’s a surge of near disappointment when his question is turned back on himself, followed by the instant feeling of regret and expectation unknowingly placed on him. Of course-- it was normal to miss your home. It was a silly thing to ask, actually, that there’d be any doubt about it at all. 

So why was it that Cloud felt differently?

 ❛Yeah.❜

Why didn’t Cloud miss it? Was it okay that he didn’t? Did that make him ungrateful? Did it even matter?

tidus waves both hands dismissively at his dear friend, almost as if he’s shooing away the comment that was made. he laughs all the same, though, knowing that this little back and forth between them is enough to tell him that things are good and well because they’re just as they’ve always been.

           ❝ well yeah! excuuuuse me for checkin’ up on my buddy! ❞ despite his words, there’s another unbridled truth that the two share between them. often have they shaken off wounds or injuries as if they were no big deal. the blitzer had come to learn that there was no other way around it. it was just how they were.

❝ but now that i’ve got that outta the way, i think it’s safe to say things are good then, right? more importantly, didja miss me? ❞ 

  ❛Think I would?❜

A jest-- but an easy one, mouth slanted in mirth, already expecting the burst of energy that such a tease would coax forth. While Cloud hardly worried for those he’d left behind in the beyond, he’d admit to some mild curiosity regarding the state of their worlds and what they’d been forced to abandon. Pawns in a Gods war, there’d been a tang of bitterness associated with their prior situation that had tainted his relationship with the others. Standoffish and cold, concerned more for the presence of Sephiroth than what new faces gathered around him, Cloud had been admittedly otherwise occupied. 

Of course, such a stance hadn’t lasted long. Like wave upon rock, they’d weathered him down to reveal his softer parts, scribing their names upon bruised skin. 

He’d like to pretend they were unforgettable, but-- Oftentimes, that was not on him to decide.

 ❛--You break that?❜ 

There’s mild annoyance present within his voice, inquiry barely toeing the line of irritation. When one dealt with the presence of children on the daily, it was natural that ones patience was tested. The rare dropped plate, knocked over bar stool, giggles retreating away from a slammed door; a kind of mischief that came with unending energy and little bodies too small to contain it. Guilt would always follow, kids hardly the disrespectful sort-- yet Cloud has seen his fair share of tantrums and rough housing. 

This, though? A truck, in the middle of nowhere? 

Thankfully just a nasty dent, and likely an accident - had the man been the culprit at all - but a somewhat baffling one. Cloaked in all blue, grand furs about his shoulders and dark armor underneath: he hardly fit the part of a typical traveler. Especially here-- stifling heat, nothing but the deserts barren embrace spread out around them, and a small settlement piercing the otherwise unbothered horizon. An actor then, maybe. Perhaps one from Gold Saucer, without pack to store his rather impressive characters regalia.

Yet could an actor hold so much strength, lest he been similarly augmented?