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Sep. 3rd, 2012 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raajTifa is the first to wear a red ribbon. It's out of remembrance; it's out of loneliness. It's from the moment she found the scrap of fabric in her bag at Mideel and cried because she'd lost everything again so quickly—so many people in sector 7, and now Aerith and Cloud—and then thought how Aerith would probably scold her because Cloud was not completely lost just yet. Don't ever give up hope, she'd said, and Tifa didn't want to. Didn't want to give up that encouragement either. She'd almost put the cloth in her hair, like her friend had worn it, but she wanted it closer. In the end she'd wrapped Aerith's memory around her arm, tying it securely before rubbing at her eyes. Then she'd faced the man they'd both cherished with another smile, without flinching at his incomprehensible groan.
When the others come to check on her, everyone recognizes the ribbon, and who it belonged to. And there is, really, nothing else to be said about it.
Cloud doesn't feel loss so much as he feels he has always been lost, trying to make connections that don't complete because he disappoints the other person somehow. He had thought, back when he was cool and cocky ex-SOLDIER Cloud, that he had things figured out with Aerith. She made it feel easy, as if her hand was always open and reaching out, and all he had to do was take it.
But then the illusion had unraveled. He had let her down, by letting her die. By not being himself. By not understanding her, something he only realizes when Tifa wonders aloud what their friend must have thought on the altar. His answer is cautious, calming, and immediately shot down. Tifa puts no stock in the idea that Aerith was willing to die. Her arms spread wide with a ribbon set into fluttery motion as she talks about Aerith's future, one of the many things he's sure they whispered and laughed about together back when he was single-mindedly focused on bringing them steadily closer to the danger that is Sephiroth.
Aerith never meant to die. It's so obvious once Tifa's said it. She had even said something about coming back, hadn't she? His memory was muddled by mako poisoning, but that's no excuse. Just another way he's never understood what's going on with the people around him.
He needs to understand her now, though. For the Planet. For her, because it's what she deserves, and it's the one thing he can still do for her. So few people had really known her, and it had made her feel lonely. It's one feeling he can understand.
Her hand was always reaching out, so now he tries to do the same. With everyone's help, he reaches out to figure out what Aerith had been thinking when she died. What they find is her hope.
"Aerith… I'll do the rest," he promises. He's talking to the air but every inch of him is willing those words to be absorbed by the walls of the sacred city. Aerith is resting in the lake. If there is anywhere she'll hear him, it's here.
He hopes she doesn't feel lonely.
That night, he thinks about the ribbon on Tifa's arm. In the past days he'd seen it as a symbol of the bond the two women had, something he couldn't be included in because he'd always been holding himself apart from the others, if he wasn't just falling behind. He's still so far behind. He can't say he knew Aerith like Tifa did.
But, maybe it's not so important to have the same connection. He might not understand, but he's trying. And if he keeps reaching out... maybe someday it will have meant something for her.
He still hesitates, even after getting another ribbon. Tifa finds him sitting in cargo with it draped over his open hand. "Cloud?"
Being caught by Tifa makes him feel both guilty and relieved. After a moment, he holds it out to her. "Will you put it on me? Like yours," he says quietly. He watches her carefully from under his bangs, looking for the first sign that he's tread somewhere he shouldn't, intruded on something private he never had a right to. But Tifa nods quickly—her own eyes ducking low, he can't see—and she takes up the ribbon before pivoting to his left, finding just where to tie it around his arm.
She sniffles, and Cloud hunches over guiltily. He hadn't meant to make her upset. He should have known better. "I'm sorry."
Tifa is already shaking her head. "You miss her too… everyone does."
When the others come to check on her, everyone recognizes the ribbon, and who it belonged to. And there is, really, nothing else to be said about it.
Cloud doesn't feel loss so much as he feels he has always been lost, trying to make connections that don't complete because he disappoints the other person somehow. He had thought, back when he was cool and cocky ex-SOLDIER Cloud, that he had things figured out with Aerith. She made it feel easy, as if her hand was always open and reaching out, and all he had to do was take it.
But then the illusion had unraveled. He had let her down, by letting her die. By not being himself. By not understanding her, something he only realizes when Tifa wonders aloud what their friend must have thought on the altar. His answer is cautious, calming, and immediately shot down. Tifa puts no stock in the idea that Aerith was willing to die. Her arms spread wide with a ribbon set into fluttery motion as she talks about Aerith's future, one of the many things he's sure they whispered and laughed about together back when he was single-mindedly focused on bringing them steadily closer to the danger that is Sephiroth.
Aerith never meant to die. It's so obvious once Tifa's said it. She had even said something about coming back, hadn't she? His memory was muddled by mako poisoning, but that's no excuse. Just another way he's never understood what's going on with the people around him.
He needs to understand her now, though. For the Planet. For her, because it's what she deserves, and it's the one thing he can still do for her. So few people had really known her, and it had made her feel lonely. It's one feeling he can understand.
Her hand was always reaching out, so now he tries to do the same. With everyone's help, he reaches out to figure out what Aerith had been thinking when she died. What they find is her hope.
"Aerith… I'll do the rest," he promises. He's talking to the air but every inch of him is willing those words to be absorbed by the walls of the sacred city. Aerith is resting in the lake. If there is anywhere she'll hear him, it's here.
He hopes she doesn't feel lonely.
That night, he thinks about the ribbon on Tifa's arm. In the past days he'd seen it as a symbol of the bond the two women had, something he couldn't be included in because he'd always been holding himself apart from the others, if he wasn't just falling behind. He's still so far behind. He can't say he knew Aerith like Tifa did.
But, maybe it's not so important to have the same connection. He might not understand, but he's trying. And if he keeps reaching out... maybe someday it will have meant something for her.
He still hesitates, even after getting another ribbon. Tifa finds him sitting in cargo with it draped over his open hand. "Cloud?"
Being caught by Tifa makes him feel both guilty and relieved. After a moment, he holds it out to her. "Will you put it on me? Like yours," he says quietly. He watches her carefully from under his bangs, looking for the first sign that he's tread somewhere he shouldn't, intruded on something private he never had a right to. But Tifa nods quickly—her own eyes ducking low, he can't see—and she takes up the ribbon before pivoting to his left, finding just where to tie it around his arm.
She sniffles, and Cloud hunches over guiltily. He hadn't meant to make her upset. He should have known better. "I'm sorry."
Tifa is already shaking her head. "You miss her too… everyone does."