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cloakandclaw) wrote2008-09-09 07:56 pm
cloakandclaw) wrote2008-09-09 07:56 pm
[Milliways]
Oh, he misses her.
With every beat of his heart, he misses her. With every breath he takes, he misses her. Every sound gives him pause, every whiff of every flower on every breeze brings him hope. And every invocation of her name that goes unanswered dashes his hope effectively, efficiently, reminding him he had no right to harbor it in the first place. Apparently, his atonement is far from complete.
They... walked together. Through the forest, hand in hand: he thought that meant something but perhaps... perhaps he misinterpreted. It would be far from the first time he misunderstood Lucrecia's intentions. That, in fact, seems to be more the norm for them than the exception to the rule and one would think he might have learned by now: she teases. She always has. There are no soft edges to it either now that the stakes are higher and really, he should have known better.
But... well... the problem is this: he loves her. If he could erase her memory from his heart, he wouldn't do it. If he could be guaranteed a life filled with laughter and happiness but bereft of Lucrecia, he... wouldn't do it. The mere thought of her kept him alive for thirty long years and to give up on her now would be pointless as well as fruitless. She is the beating of his heart: his first thought upon waking, his last thought before letting sleep wash him into some dreamless oblivion. Doing without her is contrary to his nature.
Tifa has him pegged and that's no surprise: among her first questions each time he saw her in Midgar -- or Edge -- this past time away from this place was always how's Nibelheim? She's far too polite to ask directly about Lucrecia but she knows the time he spends there isn't spent in Nibelheim proper. No, he's in the waterfall cave with the ghost of the woman he can't help but love. And here... here he has one question: where are you, Lucrecia? He's done everything shy of breaking down her door and the only reason he hasn't done that is because he would have heard her if she'd been there.
And every minute apart leads him to more and more questions: where is she? Why isn't she here? Why did she leave no word if she left? Is she injured? Harmed? Has the worst happened: her husband has returned to claim and make a further experiment of her? In this place, it's even a possibility and he can't... won't... his heart weeps for her with every breath, every footstep, every moment of every endless day save for the bright spot that's his one friend here.
He even feels guilty for that.
With every beat of his heart, he misses her. With every breath he takes, he misses her. Every sound gives him pause, every whiff of every flower on every breeze brings him hope. And every invocation of her name that goes unanswered dashes his hope effectively, efficiently, reminding him he had no right to harbor it in the first place. Apparently, his atonement is far from complete.
They... walked together. Through the forest, hand in hand: he thought that meant something but perhaps... perhaps he misinterpreted. It would be far from the first time he misunderstood Lucrecia's intentions. That, in fact, seems to be more the norm for them than the exception to the rule and one would think he might have learned by now: she teases. She always has. There are no soft edges to it either now that the stakes are higher and really, he should have known better.
But... well... the problem is this: he loves her. If he could erase her memory from his heart, he wouldn't do it. If he could be guaranteed a life filled with laughter and happiness but bereft of Lucrecia, he... wouldn't do it. The mere thought of her kept him alive for thirty long years and to give up on her now would be pointless as well as fruitless. She is the beating of his heart: his first thought upon waking, his last thought before letting sleep wash him into some dreamless oblivion. Doing without her is contrary to his nature.
Tifa has him pegged and that's no surprise: among her first questions each time he saw her in Midgar -- or Edge -- this past time away from this place was always how's Nibelheim? She's far too polite to ask directly about Lucrecia but she knows the time he spends there isn't spent in Nibelheim proper. No, he's in the waterfall cave with the ghost of the woman he can't help but love. And here... here he has one question: where are you, Lucrecia? He's done everything shy of breaking down her door and the only reason he hasn't done that is because he would have heard her if she'd been there.
And every minute apart leads him to more and more questions: where is she? Why isn't she here? Why did she leave no word if she left? Is she injured? Harmed? Has the worst happened: her husband has returned to claim and make a further experiment of her? In this place, it's even a possibility and he can't... won't... his heart weeps for her with every breath, every footstep, every moment of every endless day save for the bright spot that's his one friend here.
He even feels guilty for that.