"Cloud, I was wondering-- " A sudden shyness jabbed at her ribs; a familiar ache seeping in the periphery. " -- would you," she hesitates, pressing her hands together before herself as though to suppress the anxiety. Taking in a deep breath, Tifa steels herself : " like to stargaze with me tonight, just like old times. I noticed it's a fairly clear sky tonight, and.. well, I haven't seen them in so long. Not since --," hazels suddenly overcome with sadness, she casts them aside ; sparing Cloud from these unnecessary emotions. Not when they have gone through so much themselves. " Anyways, I'll be on the roof, if you would like to join me." [Hithityeah, of course !!!]
— AT THE OLD WATER TOWER SITTING HIGH ABOVE THE SUN-WASHED ROOFS OF THE OLD SNOW-COVERED HOUSES IS AN OLD HAUNTING GROUND. pale - white ghosts with heart - shaped wounds & the mako's cool scent linger somewhere betwixt the corporeal & the phantasmal. cloud stiffens at her request. blue - lilac gaze fading at the memory ( that same night, tifa's father had yelled at his mother so much her tears had fallen like silver - snow: for the last time, keep your son away from my daughter ! i've had it, claudia ! ) but cloud had climbed high up regardless, seeking the comfort of that bright star that drooped over their northern town & had fluttered closed his eyes at the ever - returning spring winds, tender like a kiss against his pale cheeks. the pale moon hung over head had shown silvery - white like the long stands of sephiroth's hair — & in that reminiscence, cloud nearly loses himself. the beginning of the end. he touches the hole in his chest.
THE LAST TIME THEY HAD BEEN ON A ROOF, THEY'D FOUGHT. this failing body couldn't handle the concept at the time, challenged by the unknowing, nearly groveling with the need to be understood, but perhaps tonight would be different. they nod once. ' metia should be in the sky tonight. ' the boy always says he doesn't care, but they do, don't they? they care about tifa's thoughts, her opinions ( caring in multitudes, of the song of her, unsubtle echoes of the peals of her laughter, the determined fire that swirled around her eyes, pretty scarlet - flowered color swarming the peripherals. ) was it truly a contradiction to be so afraid of her but want for her all the same? they shake their head again. ' what if you made another wish ? what if instead of wishing for a hero, you wished for something else ? ' so sweetly unspoken: what if you wished for a hero that wasn't me? cloud doesn't feel much like a hero these days. feels like he misses something deep & intrinsic, the chant of their soul, the fragment of what makes them him & them & someone else entirely. in the dusk & dim, with only seven seconds til the end.
SHARP STATIC AGONY RADIATES FROM WHITE-BONE SKULL TO THE RIDGES. cloud flinches, hands rushing to contain the ache. to quell the shaking. the white - hot iron, sweltering daydream dizziness that permeates his bone ( in the wood - violets, thick undergrowth steeped with pale blossoms & tall - bush nightmares, he moves like a beast chasing heart - shaped leaves in the wind, young body rising to meet the torrential violence of the war in wutai. the whisper of the ghost, i would wish to not be a weapon anymore. ) cloud repeats it softly, ' i would wish to not be a weapon anymore. ' & he supposes there is some truth to that yearning. to unbecome — unraveled wretched weaponry underutilized by the wealthy, no longer a host for the innate magical swell, little lifespring droplets fresh on the skin or immense strength granted by the rush in the veins. wan, gaunt cheeks flush with a murmuring of color, peach - pink fluster beneath the barely - there freckles. no longer a weapon, no longer a hero, no longer a bodyguard. someone who isn't the boy, the man, or the protector. someone who is just a child sitting on the rooftop overhead while someone's father yells at their mother while they all pretend to not cry. ' or i'd wish for a billion gil. whichever seems more realistic. '
