[His hand gripping hers is jarring. Tifa freezes, afraid in those initial moments that she'd done something wrong, or hurt him in some way with her magic, but... the look she sees in his eyes betrays all of that. The way his fingers graze against the palm of her hand, calloused and warm, spins another tale. What kind? She isn't sure or doesn't want to acknowledge that maybe she does know what it means. It had been a silly question in the first place—neither of them is "good" and Tifa was never blind to it but forming a string of words that wouldn't just make things worse between them proved difficult.
She stares at their hands, lips parted and eyes round with surprise. She's not sure what to say or do at this point, or how to feel besides shocked, and terrified. Not of him, but what this could mean, and that fear paralyzes her. No matter how much she wants to let her gaze click back to his so she can read his expression, she can't. She can still feel it bearing into her, striking her right down to her soul and knocking the air out of her lungs.
This feeling, this closeness—it's something she'd been searching for. It's something she'd wanted to reach out for, to pull her out of this pitch-black loneliness that's crippled her since she got to Camelot. It's that same loneliness that struck her in her early days in Midgar when she knew no one and struggled to get herself back on her feet. Now that she has it, it feels like too much, and she wants nothing more than to draw back and keep away.
This is so far from what she imagined it would be like when she finally did find it, and not at all with Eustace. Yet, here she is, still afraid but... drawn in too, wondering what it might be like to let herself go to that selfish desire of pushing that loneliness away.
But then it's there again: that fear that if she does, it will all go away in an instant, turning to dust between her fingers. So, why him? Why should she be so afraid of him leaving? Whatever this is, it's just as fleeting as the world itself—or so she'll make herself believe—and her stay in it. It's not a permanent fixture and yet, the thought of him disappearing because of her fills her chest with a sad heaviness that forces a breath out of her at last.]
Eustace...?
[The silence had stretched on for what felt like forever, and her voice feels so much louder than it actually is. It's as if it bounces off the cave walls and echoes through it, but in reality, it had been nothing more than a whisper.
No, she knows why she fears him leaving. She'd thought about it the whole way into the cave, while she cradled his tiny form in her arms. The tiny form that came because he had saved her once again and made her realize that maybe she's been looking in the wrong place this whole time.
It's that awareness that has her finally trying to tug her hand away from his...]
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She stares at their hands, lips parted and eyes round with surprise. She's not sure what to say or do at this point, or how to feel besides shocked, and terrified. Not of him, but what this could mean, and that fear paralyzes her. No matter how much she wants to let her gaze click back to his so she can read his expression, she can't. She can still feel it bearing into her, striking her right down to her soul and knocking the air out of her lungs.
This feeling, this closeness—it's something she'd been searching for. It's something she'd wanted to reach out for, to pull her out of this pitch-black loneliness that's crippled her since she got to Camelot. It's that same loneliness that struck her in her early days in Midgar when she knew no one and struggled to get herself back on her feet. Now that she has it, it feels like too much, and she wants nothing more than to draw back and keep away.
This is so far from what she imagined it would be like when she finally did find it, and not at all with Eustace. Yet, here she is, still afraid but... drawn in too, wondering what it might be like to let herself go to that selfish desire of pushing that loneliness away.
But then it's there again: that fear that if she does, it will all go away in an instant, turning to dust between her fingers. So, why him? Why should she be so afraid of him leaving? Whatever this is, it's just as fleeting as the world itself—or so she'll make herself believe—and her stay in it. It's not a permanent fixture and yet, the thought of him disappearing because of her fills her chest with a sad heaviness that forces a breath out of her at last.]
Eustace...?
[The silence had stretched on for what felt like forever, and her voice feels so much louder than it actually is. It's as if it bounces off the cave walls and echoes through it, but in reality, it had been nothing more than a whisper.
No, she knows why she fears him leaving. She'd thought about it the whole way into the cave, while she cradled his tiny form in her arms. The tiny form that came because he had saved her once again and made her realize that maybe she's been looking in the wrong place this whole time.
It's that awareness that has her finally trying to tug her hand away from his...]