#;found queue

Legends of the Phoenix were one that Tifa often heard in her travels. At least, it was a legend to her until she entered Rosaria. It all seemed to become truth as she wandered the nation; it was far different than anything she had experienced back home. As she wandered the streets of the city, it felt strange since she never seemed to stick out so much in a crowd. The garb, people, almost everything just felt so different.

Something magical seemed to always happen when the florist spoke of difficult topics. Maybe it was her tone, the way she carried herself in conversation, Tifa couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was as if the the lifestream would react to her words.

Tifa leaned against the bar, a chuckle escaping her as she nodded. She could see where Barrett was coming from, especially as the head of AVALANCHE. She thought back; their reputation wasn’t the best around Midgar, but it was something that people knew. Their name was known to almost anyone in the city. She placed a finger up, bringing her point to the countertop after a sip of her own drink. 

A gasp left her at the sight of Rufus in the doorway. Taking a syep back, she was left speechless for how he spoke to the king. But hearing the way he spun the conversation, Tifa felt her heart sink. Could Cloud have only used her? Even with all the kindness he spoke? Shaking her head, she left the pit in her stomach to handle at another time. Before she could say a word, heavy eyelids won, and she fell to the floor. 

Pain pulsated through her muscles, awaking in a new placed. The dress had acted as a pillow, landing upon it. A grumble left her as she sat up, scanning the new surroundings. In the process, she found the king beside her, still unconscious and hurried to his side. “Cloud!” 

“Cloud, wake up!” she whined. Taking his head into her lap, she placed a gentle hand to his cheek. Lips curled, a hint of sorrow plaguing her stomach once more. “Cloud, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” 

The mere sound of her name leaving his lips could normally make her feel better. Yet, her concern hung heavy. Had she made a mistake? As much as she wanted him? She shook her head in doubt - she wanted this. Then why did it feel so awful? Once his hand fell upon her shoulder, her head lifted. When he made his statement that maybe she was right, her stomach sank. But, she placed her hand over his. This hurt, and she could tell it hurt him too.

He didn’t want the life with the princess? Why was she surprised, she had known this, but hearing him say it gave her a moment of solace. He wanted to be with her? Tifa couldn’t figure how she was still shocked to hear this, even after all they had done together. She wanted this more than she could describe, but the last thing she wanted was for him to suffer repercussions of a choice of hers. When blue met ruby hues, she stood, though continuing to hold his hand. 

She wasn’t sure on what to say, but her heart was shouting. All she wanted was to run off and have a happily ever after with him, royalty or not. His suggestion was one she hadn’t expected - he was willing to give up all of this. He was willing to give it all up for her. A smile crawled over her expression, but she took a moment to think. Yes, she wanted him - more than anything - but he would be losing everything. And she couldn’t let him do that. She couldn’t let him lose everything he’s worked for. 

Her hand gripped his tightly. A lump in her throat was forced down as she processed everything. Her lips met his hand as she lifted it and shoulders fell. “We’ll think of something.” she yearned. “There has to be a way to do this. You can’t give up everything you’ve worked for.”

She paused, but then began to slowly gather her things. “I’ll be by your side.” she assured. “No matter what.” 

She glanced at the man from the corner of her eye; admittedly, she believed she was the same. It was one thing with the folks of AVALANCHE, or mutual friends, but new people?

It wasn't often that Tifa had new customers at 7th Heaven; usually she would see just the locals, and she new each of them by name at this point. Though, this particular evening, she noticed a man enter that she had never seen before; a scar on his cheek and rich, black hair made him stand out. Luckily, it was a slower evening, and the few who came and left allowed her to watch him curiously as he took a seat at the bar top. "Welcome," she greeted, her lips curling into a thin smile. "What can I get started for ya?"