It's dangerous to sit up here, legs dangling off the edge of the highway, but Cloud stands beside her, his borrowed bike leaning on its brake stand nearby, and something about the twinkling lights below and the greenery in the distance, feels comfortable. Peaceful. Like, for a minute, she can forget everything that's happening in Midgar. What ShinRa is doing, what AVALANCHE is doing, Cloud's strange memories, her guilt over...so much more than she knows how to put words to.
"Do you think..." Her words trail for a moment, and she bites her lower lip gently as she thinks. Brow furrowed, hands curling into loose fists atop her legs, gazing at the horizon line where the last remnants of sunset stain the sky deep pink before fading into the rich blue-black of nighttime. It really is beautiful up here. "Do you think we're doing this the right way? The bombs in the reactors?"
She can't describe why that weighs so heavy on her mind; any one of them could get hurt - or worse - on these missions, and the first reactor incident proved that. But they've tried protesting, they've tried petitions, they did everything the peaceful way for so long already, with nothing to show for it. No one listens. No one in ShinRa cares. Their power outmatches that of the public, and not enough people joined the cause to make a difference. It's frustrating, but Tifa can't think that this is the answer.
Her gaze shifts to Cloud to watch his expression, wondering if he feels the same way. He's changed so much since she last saw him, and she doesn't really know how his mind works, his thoughts on the world - on everything. Maybe he agrees that this is the logical next step, and that Tifa needs to see that. But she doesn't know. She doesn't know.
he watches, quiet and careful. the silhouette of her figure casts a shadow, elongated, that nearly touches the tips of his boots. arms folded, mako-laced eyes flicker, if only for a moment, from said figure to the sun that continues to set beyond her shoulder; before, ultimately, settling back to lock with her own. his fingers curl tighter over his bare biceps, and he kicks himself up from leaning against his bike, "you can'tβ" only for a sharpshooting sting to bolt through his temple; the figure of her back, legs dangling over the edge of the highway pressed over another, much younger, and the clairvoyant sense of a water tower only inches from his back.
cloud winces, the hand that had shot to his temple digging his knuckles in tight, blond lashes fluttering the split second it takes for his eyes to squeeze shut, and snap back open. he swallows, takes another step forward, heels dragged down by uncertainty. "errβ" throat feeling tight, he swallows again for good measure, and forces whatever knot is tying up in his gullet to loosen its grip on his vocal chords. he shakes his head, and the sigh that slips from his throat comes easier. "βit's not about if it's right," he says, hand rubbing at his left temple to ease the momentary shock of pain away; attempting to shake his head to regain full clarity instead of this heavy, clouded weight. his boots thud quietly against the concrete, muted by the wear and tear of their worn down bottoms as he steps up to her side. "it's about if it's necessary." his gaze narrows, turned out toward the light as his arms cross back over his chest.
a pause sits between them as a furrow laces his brow, blue gaze finally falling to hers once more, darkened by the ever encroaching starlight. "but i'm listening."
β³ Β @cybrvceββΒ Β /Β Β continued.
