@re-no​ said: ' some of us can see our cages '

SHE WONDERS IF HE IS TALKING OF HER. 

          midgar is huge and sprawling and its plates are proof that even cities can grow upward toward the sun.  like a flower.  like a weed.  she is no longer in that small,  dark,  metal room.  she is no longer hooked up to wires and tubes and machines that keep time to the drum of her heart.  she is no longer beating against a two ton door begging for a mother she knows better in dreams than in person.  

     but she is still caged.  she may test the boundaries of it.  she may push against the outer edges,  but there are always reminders that this is just a privilege.  shinra plasters its propaganda on every free wall,  and aerith cannot breathe without hearing its name.  her new home is bigger and warmer.  it has a mother who isn’t dead ( yet ) and a room with no lock on the outside.  but it has watch dogs,  too.  clad in all black,  they circle when she’s gone too far and herd her back. 

          he is here to herd her back.  

     he is a reminder that she is not free.  

AND YET,  SHE WONDERS IF HE IS TALKING OF HIMSELF.

          the hours are waning now,  and she watches the sunlight grow golden through a hole in the roof of a church that still throws colors from the stains in its glass.  a stray beam of emerald bisects reno where he stands,  and she cannot help but wonder questions she’s never asked.  she calls them watch dogs.  she calls them wolves.  she calls them crows and vultures and monsters lurking in the dark,  in the deep,  in the corners of a cage built by their masters.  it’s the suit,  she thinks.  the color of death.  reno,  she wants to say,  what’s it like having a custom fitted collar?   

     does it suffocate every time you put it on?  

               have you ever known what it means to be free?   

     he looked bored before.  impatient,  now.  she’s dawdling,  isn’t she?   soaking in the last moments before she’s made to go home.  just a moment,  she had told him earlier.  just a second longer.  i just need to do one last thing.  i just need to breathe one last breath.  isn’t it beautiful the way the air in here tastes so different from the air out there?   the way the flowers have claimed this place as their own?   they are in midgar still,  of course.  but in the quiet,  in the light,  in the liminal moment between staying and leaving  ——  this is a certain kind of freedom. 

          he starts to speak,  and aerith thinks,  maybe it’s just her.  after all,  he didn’t ask to be here — do turks ever ask to be anywhere?   or do they exist only where they are required to be?   these are just more questions,  more dawdling.  she buries them beneath her tongue unsaid,  and unearths something different to say. 

     ❛  every cage has a door,  reno.  ❜     sometimes you have to hurt yourself to open it.  sometimes you have to be hurt.  sometimes you have to lose a father to a bullet and a mother to a knife.  sometimes you have to leave the city’s edge and abandon everything that makes you you.  sometimes you have to die.  sometimes others do.  and sometimes .  .  .  

          ❛  ——  sometimes it's already unlocked.  ❜     

     sometimes,  you are both just too used to being inside to ever test it yourself. 

𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎, ' 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔? 𝚒 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗' 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗' 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚍. '

Faintly,     Ciri     knows     she     actually     needed     to     go     to     the     office     today,     that     she’d     been     too     distracted     by     his     mouth     at     the     edge     of     her     jaw     last     night     when     they’d     left     together     to     finish     her     paperwork.     She     knows     this,     but     the     thought     of     leaving     the     warm     cradle     of     his     arms     sounded     like     something     akin     to     torture     in     this     very     moment.     “I     suppose     I     could     be     persuaded.”     Her     head     tips     into     his     affections     as     Ciri     reaches     over     him     to     the     bedside     table,     pale     fingers     scrabbling     for     a     moment     before     they     wrap     around     a     (hopefully     her)     phone.     A     single     gold     and     green     and     violet     eye     opens,     Ciri     hissing     at     the     brightness     of     the     screen     while     he     buries     his     laughter     against     the     side     of     her     mouth.     “Shut     up,     this     is     hard.     I     can’t     see     anything.”     Pale     fingers     knot     in     the     hair     leading     into     his     ponytail,     tugging     gently     with     one     hand     while     she     scrolls     through     her     contacts          with     the     other.     She     almost     opts     to     email     Tseng,     her     mouth     preoccupied     with     the     edge     of     Reno’s     ear     when     suddenly     his     calls     lights     up     her     screen.     “Gods     how     does     he     do     that.”     Ciri     clears     her     throat     a     few     times,     roughing     her     voice     up     before     answering,     going     on     melodramatically     for     several     minutes     before     Tseng     finally     relents     (or     is     too     annoyed     with     her)     and     bids     her     the     day     off     before     ending     the     call     with     a     click.     “Mission     accomplished,     sir.”     Ciri     can’t     help     but     cackle     at     the     moniker,     the     fingers     he     digs     into     her     sides     well     worth     it     as     she     bursts     into     laughter     and     tries     to     roll     away     from     him.     Their     legs     end     up     tangled     together,     her     laughter     echoing     across     the     apartment     as     he     blows     raspberries     across     her     flesh.     This     goes     on     for     several     minutes,     his     snickers     finding     a     home     in     Ciri’s     heart     until     they     end     up     side     by     side,     tangled     up     in     each     other     as     their     foreheads     press     together.     For     a     few     moments     they     share     each     other’s     breath,     his     fingers     knotted     in     the     fabric     of     her     (his)     hoodie     while     hers     scratch     gently     at     the     nape     of     his     neck.

They     haven’t     talked     about     it,     whatever     they     are;     whatever     this     is.     All     she     knew     was     they’d     spent     more     time     together     in     each     other’s     apartments     than     alone     in     their     own.     That     sometimes     silvery-green     sparks     would     fly     in     the     office     and     they     both     steadfastly     ignored     it     to     keep     the     secret.     She’d     kissed     him     once,     sweetly,     leaning     through     his     doorway     before     leaving     for     the     office.     He     tasted     like     coffee     and     his     favorite     brand     of     cigarettes     and     home,     suspiciously,     and     Ciri     had     run     before     either     of     them     could     say     anything     about     it.     Now,     in     this     moment,     it's     all     she     can     think     about     doing;     she     wants     to     taste     his     breath     and     give     herself     to     him,     even     as     fear     chokes     the     words     in     her     throat.     Time     seems     to     stand     still     for     a     moment     as     they     watch     each     other,     her     nails     nearly     digging     into     his     flesh     with     her     nerves.     Faintly,     she     can     hear     him     say     something     about     starting     breakfast,     his     grip     on     her     loosening     as     he     pulls     away     before     she     finally     steels     herself.     “𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒐.”     She     murmurs     his     name     to     him,     gold     and     green     and     violet     eyes     glassy     before     she     tips     her     face     up     toward     his,     enraptured     by     fire     before     she     presses     their     mouths     together.     He     tastes     like     the     honey     candy     she     keeps     on     the     coffee     table,     her     fingers     gentle     in     his     hair     as     they     tangle     together     once     more.     His     phone     starts     to     go     off     somewhere     in     the     background,     probably     Tseng     asking     if     he     too     will     be     missing     work,     but     neither     of     them     particularly     care,     too     engrossed     in     each     other     to     even     think     about     stopping.     He     whispers     her     name     back     to     her     as     he     pulls     away     to     take     a     breath,     reverent     words     from     his     mouth     passed     along     the     line     of     her     scar,     nearly     shaking     Ciri     to     pieces     with     how     much     devotion     he     held     for     her.     Their     fingers     lace     together     as     she     pants     against     his     chin,     stray     kisses     pressed     to     any     bit     of     skin     she     can     reach.     “What     if     we     call     out     for     the     whole     week?     I     think     I     can     fake     breaking     my     leg     or     something     like     that     over     the     phone.”     His     laughter     fills     her     mouth     and     she     can’t     help     but     realize     it’s     the     sweetest     thing     she’s     ever     tasted.

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"Believe it or not, but he isn't telling me anything!" She's shaking her head in genuine disapproval. Hands on her hips. "Tight-lipped. I barely knows what he is doing for a living and he sure have never mentioned any coworkers, or friends."

     “  No,  YOU’RE bullshit.  “  even now,  with a  generous space between them, she feels her  voice  shake.  Jessie , as  brave  and  bold as  she was,  understood the imbalance of power  between them and  the fact she was alone, didn’t serve her chances in her favor.  “ the  organization  you  work for is bullshit. which by default, makes you bullshit. “