ninth shot ⊗ closed december catchall

[flamekthunder]

🧙 WHO: Eustace and planned CR
⚔️️ WHAT: various things
🕒 WHEN: throughout December
🗺️ WHERE: various
⚠️ WARNINGS: none

[Closed catchall log for the month. Feel free to PM or contact at laenavesse to plot something!]

Comments

[flamekthunder]

[Eria continues to let Tifa have her time and offers her the comfort she needs, moving over to lie down with her and allow her to hold her as much as the young woman needs. Eria had always been more aloof, never showing much affection towards anyone but Eustace and even then it was only in private. But now she shares it with Tifa, the only other person who would understand the pain of loss she feels. And she will remain at Eustace's side, never moving even to eat or drink. Granted she doesn't need it as much as normal animals, but she will only moved if literally picked up and taken away, otherwise sleeping along with Eustace.

But then the inevitable happens when the bond is completely broken and Eustace is no longer in Camelot. There's no special effect, no warning. It just snaps and just as suddenly he appeared, he disappears, leaving behind an empty space.

There is mourning, but eventually Eria will use her magic to pull out a book from one of the high shelves in his room. It's one filled with his personal notes of what he's managed to learn of this world during his stay, including what he had seen when Cecelia had taken him to the source. She lightly takes the book into her mouth and brings it over to Tifa, letting the pages fall to open where a well worn envelope addressed to Tifa lays. It looks as if it has been held often, the crease of the flap worn out as if opened and closed several times.

And whenever she opens it, there is letter inside.]

Tifa,

If you've received this letter from Eria, then it means I have left Camelot and returned to my world. I know this will be difficult, but please read this until the end.

In the past, all I ever really wanted was to find peace and quiet. You already know about my past and the kind of work I do, so it shouldn't be surprising that the thought of being in a relationship with anyone seemed like a far off fantasy, and I had been prepared to be on my own for however long I lived.

But after being with you, I can no longer go back to that kind of thinking. You were troublesome, noisy, pushy, stubborn. If I had to be honest, from the first day we met at that bar in Celliwig, I knew you were going to be trouble and had no plans in meeting you again. But we kept stumbling into each other and despite a few questionable circumstances, I got to know you.

You are a strong, determined, passionate, beautiful young woman, always looking ahead and putting others first. I always respected and admired you on a professional level, but at some point I realized that on a personal one, I preferred to see your smile and coveted the warmth you gave me. I grew accustomed to your constant company, yet it somehow felt different compared to others. Even before I learned of your own tragedies and pains, I found myself chasing after you willingly. I was attracted to you, and I wanted to do anything to stay by your side and keep you from suffering again. I found that we shared many similar pains and fears, a loneliness that only those who have been through what we had would understand. Yet you were the first one with whom I felt a connection with and a want to help overcome it.

I want to believe I helped even just a little, just as much as you helped me. To help open my eyes and heart again.

Thus even though the time we spent together was brief, looking back I realize none of it was wasted. I cherished every moment, grateful that I was able to allow myself to have these times of happiness that I had long forgotten.

You gave me a glimpse of what it's like to be in love.

The only thing I regret is breaking my promise by leaving you and not being able to spend more time with you. That I am undoing everything I tried to help build.

Forgive me.

I know my actions are selfish by not telling you before, but I hoped you wouldn't ever see this letter. That I might have been able to stop the process or find some other way. But even if I couldn't, I just wanted to cherish whatever moments we had as they were. I knew if I saw you grieving for me I wouldn't be able to hold my resolve.

And the last thing I wanted to see was your smile.

Tifa, you've given me more than I deserve, and you also deserve to find love and happiness. So please find it and don't let my leaving hold you back. If anything use this as proof that you can and will find it.

Thank you for everything you've given me.

When this is over, I hope we can reunite one day be it in Camelot, another world, or even in a dream.

Eustace

the end. 💞 ... for now. (once upon a dream plays softly in the distance)

[starshower]

[How many days had it been? How many days since she'd contacted Aerith or Nanaki to let her know that she was okay? Had she even? She can't even remember where she left her device, and at some point, it had stopped mattering. The truth is that her mind had been so focused on him that she could barely think straight besides, and when she finally could, it was to take care of Eria. The others were likely worried about her, as they should be, but...

Tifa had other things on her mind.

In those couple of days, she had tried whatever she could to help tether him to this world and made several more attempts to wake him despite the familiars' warnings not to. It was the end, she knew, but there was some small part of her that wondered and hoped that if she could find a way to wake him or find a way to feed her magic into his, he could stay a little longer. It was one last act of desperation in the late hours of the night when she hovered her hand over his chest as she lay next to him, small embers burning at her fingertips, or tiny bursts of wind. But when the snowflakes and ice had started to appear...

That's when she stopped and had fallen asleep again.

And when she woke at an ungodly hour, that's when it had happened. Eustace, who had once been there next to her, still warm and breathing steadily as if he'd just fallen asleep for the night, is gone. Somehow, she'd cried herself almost numb, the feeling of finding him immovable still raw in her chest, and she only stares at the pillow next to her, her hand sliding over the sheets to feel that his side has already gone cold, as more tears begin to fall over her face and onto the pillows.

It's hard to break again what was already broken.

But then Eria comes, her padded footsteps drawing a sniff out of her as she moves her gaze up from the bed to her, and she drops a book onto the bed in front of her, the pages falling open to reveal... an envelope? With her name scrawled across it in... his writing.

Through tear-glistening eyes, she stares at the dog, and she can feel her hands shaking again. Had he gotten up to write it? No, if he had, then she would have woken up the moment she felt any movement that wasn't him just... vanishing from this world's existence. No... this has to be...

Taking it, she inspects the envelope first, noting how the corners have crinkled, as if he'd touched it many, many times before he'd finally put it away, and her own fingers graze over it, smoothing them out when she sits up, as if she might pick up any remnant of his soul left on the parchment. She remains that way for a while, sitting in his bed with the envelope held carefully in her lap, and she stares down at it, wondering and afraid of what could be inside.

Eventually, she'll brave it and tug it open, and unfold the paper that's tucked away inside. A letter. From him.

If you've received this letter from Eria, then it means I have left Camelot...]

You knew...

[She mutters to herself in a shaky voice, tears already beginning to stain the paper as she reads on. Of course, he knew. Eria did too, didn't she? And of course he didn't want to tell her and make her worry and fret about it, because that's exactly what she would have done in his last few days. She would have kept searching for a way to keep him there, when in reality, the best way to spend it would have been... exactly as they did.

Still...

Tifa can't help but feel a little mad that he hadn't said a word of it to her. If he had, would they have been able to find a way to at least buy them enough time to... to do what, she realizes. He had a world to go back to, and a home, and people he cared about. It would have been a selfish move to try to keep him here when this world didn't need him anymore. But then it's a selfish thing for this world to discard people as it sees fit, to send them home when it felt it didn't need their help, after they've made the choice to build on friendships and relationships and find happiness and love and companionship.

This is exactly what she and Aerith talked about.

Reading on, Tifa is able to pinpoint the exact moment her heart almost stops—when she finally gasps in that breath of air that she'd been holding out on as her eyes picked out each word he had carefully written.

"You gave me a glimpse of what it was like to be in love."

...

Is that what it was? All of those feelings that she could never pinpoint? Everything she'd felt that night, as they lay there under that magical snowfall that she'd been to scared to confront? Things that she hadn't felt since coming to Camelot... Things she never imagined she'd ever feel for anyone else... And she'd made him feel that, too? Or was she overthinking it? Not that it mattered anymore. He was gone, and...

He's gone.

The realization hits her again, and she can hardly get through the rest of the letter through her sobs, but she manages... somehow. It's hard, and her chest hurts, and it's difficult to breathe, but she will see to the last word of that letter with everything she's got, no matter how difficult it proves to be. She takes her time though, reading and absorbing every pen stroke, afraid that if it ends, the letter will turn to dust in her hands. She can't afford to lose the one thing left in this world that serves as proof that they had something special.

By the time Tifa reads his name, the paper is soaked through and wrinkled, and her cheeks are stained with what's left of her tears as she clutches the letter to her chest, careful not to crinkle it any further. She remains there a little while longer, but... she remembers she has people she needs to return to. People who depend on her, and who she depends on in turn, and she'd left them for far too long without a word.

Eventually, she'll rise to her feet, her legs wobbly and her head light, but Tifa is stronger than to let it all get her down. It was as he said, and she didn't want his words to mean nothing. She was going to get through this... She always does.

After saying goodbye to Eria, she wanders through the walls of the home once more, stopping at the couch to remember the time they'd watched the Galaxy Wars sequel together, and the kitchen to remember the countless times she'd practically shoved a bowl of soup in his face and demanded he eat something, and then back to the bedroom where they'd spent many hours simply laying there in comfortable silence until they fell asleep...

There are too many memories to count, and too many memories that are precious to her, and still, it would never be enough. She's always going to be left wanting more, and yet, still being satisfied and happy with the time they spent together. She should be—it's what he would want. He said so in the letter. What they had... it was special, if simply walking through those memories now is any sign of that. It meant something to him, just as much as it did her, and that's all she could ask for.

Eustace had done so much for her—more than she could ever hope to ask for, and she hopes that he at least went home knowing that. That after all of the pain she's had to endure at home and here in Camelot, that he had helped to fill that void left in her heart, and that she would have it no other way. She hopes that, while he slept, he'd heard her voice in his head, reminding him of what it was he meant to her, even if she could never convey it properly with words. If she could know that he at least was aware of that, then Tifa can at least go on being okay with how it ended.

After all, the last thing they'd both seen had been a smile, and who would want anything but?

Her hand clutches the white rose pendant around her neck, the other the envelope and letter tucked back inside, and she flicks off the light at the foyer after one last look back, before she shuts the door behind her.

After everything, that was that. It was how this world worked. But perhaps he was right—perhaps someday, they'll meet again. Whether it be here in Camelot, or in another world. A dream, even.

She will await that day, if it ever comes.]