Yuffie, nothing else
Because I’m too attached to the past tense, dammit. And yes, even though I made an eljay, I, uh…don’t really know what to do with it. >_>;; So instead of spending my time trying to figure out how everything works on eljay, I write instead! Wheeee! …|||OTL
And I listed “Yuffie” where the series was supposed to go because there are too many that Yuffie can be in. x_x She is in ALL of the Compilation of FFVII. Timeline-wise, it’s after Dirge, but not so far along that they’re that much older.
I had to play with some things; Aerith is a water goddess associated with water, not wind, but ignore that, please! Ahahahaha And Cloud was difficult, but he wouldn’t shut up. I think he’s pissed I keep messing with his bloody pictures, so he’s taking this as compensation. Or something.
Sorry it’s so bad and sorry Cloud became so emo in the end AND YES YUFFIE IS HORRIBLY OUT OF CHARACTER ~SOB~
Yuffie moves forward because there is nothing else to do. Shrinra has fallen, in so many ways; Wutai was beginning its slow recovery and restoration, she doesn’t need to collect materia anymore.
And yet there seems nothing she can do, because the group is broken up, they aren’t needed to save the world. Shalua–her beautiful, beautiful Shalua, like the raging sea, like the endless sky, like a delicate flower with so many thorns–is gone, WRO is getting along fine without her, and Yuffie is tired.
She doesn’t cry at the funeral, only stares at the coffin holding someone who in life had reminded her of her Shalua, the sister of her one love who had decided on her own to let go and return to the planet.
Shelke is just one more loss among many.
The man she would later know as Zack. Aerith. Shalua.
Yuffie gets up, puts a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, who is also not crying but staring at the coffin with a non-expression that Yuffie wants to erase, but doesn’t know how and so she just pats his shoulder and walks away.
Cloud finds her on a ledge, far above what a normal person would dare to tread. He stops as he sees her, and he knows she is aware of him, but he does not know what to say, or really, what he had been doing here. He had been lead by the wind, the scent of flowers showing him a trail.
He stands there awkwardly, and is about to apologize and leave, when he sees her tears, and the wind nudges him forward, bringing him the image of a woman who looks like the girl Vincent had taken in.
Understanding is like a little flash in his brain, and he is unused to it because he is not one who comforts, or who people seek out for comfort. But he steps forward anyway, and when he sees her face clearly, it is like looking into a tiny reflection.
“It…hurts…” he begins, pretty sure that it’s the entirely wrong thing to say, and sure enough, Yuffie snorts, and says, “You’re a genius,” which is what he isn’t used to coming from her.
He remembers that Yuffie had been very young when he’d met her and she’d joined up with his merry little band, and he has to silently hush the scent of flowers, to cease the flow of memories that came rushing at him.
In all the time he had known her, Yuffie has been unfailingly cheerful, and a little giddy, and a little hyper, and always energetic. But all children, all teenagers have to grow up sometime, and he wonders if everything that has happened is just now catching up to her.
Cloud thinks he may know the feeling a little, so he sits precariously next to her, and searches his memory for the name–”Shalua.”
He notices the jerk of her hands and the tensioning of her shoulders because she has been still for such a long time, and for all he’s been through he’s still a fighter, and he knows that she notices but she doesn’t say anything.
“Shalua Rui,” he says again, and it is like an avalanche; her face contorts, and twists, and she quickly looks away, but not before he notices, and something clicks in his mind because the scent of flowers is crawling all up his arm and back, and he thinks he knows, now.
“She was…” and then decides he doesn’t need to say any more, because he would be completely insensitive if he didn’t see Yuffie’s shoulders shaking and the almost inaudible sobs that were reaching his ears.
He helplessly looks away, and listens to her for almost a minute while the flowers scratch at his arms, before they give him a violent shove in Yuffie’s direction. He stares into the air incredulously, but the flowers increase their insistent scratching, and he swallows a sigh, and shifts to move closer.
His touch on her shoulder seems to be the last dam, as she unexpectedly turns and buries her face in his shoulder, and he holds her awkwardly, trying his best to resist the urge to shove her away, because he is unused to contact, and even Tifa knows not to touch him so suddenly.
But he hears something like a soft sigh, and wonderingly, he finds himself relaxing, ghostly, invisible touches rest on his muscles, in a way he hadn’t done for years, not since–
He stops himself from going further along that line of thought, because it hurts, and it reminds him all over again why he’s holding a wailing Yuffie in his arms.
So when Yuffie’s tears subside, he twitches his hand a little, to get her attention, and when she shifts a little in response, he says softly, “Make your own purpose.”
Because he knows very much what it is like, to be left behind, but the living must go on living, especially if they have people waiting for them.
The scent of flowers gently caresses his face, and there is a ghostly pressure on his shoulder, like a clap on the back, as if Aerith and Zack agree, approve, and he has to stare unblinking into the distance but Yuffie notices, and holds him like he has done for her a moment before.
plotbunnies/quotes/etc | Jac the Tripper | 13 January 2008 |
