( she should probably be more startled by it: the way that he escalates, picks through his words and then, abruptly almost, like it's reached some kind of boiling point after simmering steadily for minutes, continues that mantra that she knows doesn't really mean what she thinks it should. it's not like he's insulting her, not like he's declaring that she's some pox upon the world, or maybe just his world, but the feelings inside of him--feelings she didn't know really existed, or maybe just didn't really understand yet--make him feel like his skin might crawl, maybe, or like they're the ones that will crawl, make their way right out of his mouth and wind themselves around his thoughts and be too stubborn to pull or erase away. she knows better than to round on him and tease him; so there they wait, in silence for a moment, midousuji with his meltdown on the outside, and aerith with her meltdown on the inside.
a few steps: just a few steps, that's all it takes, really, just another lean in the right direction, and there's the edge of the roof, the path to her front door that she can see from where they are, the garden that she still hasn't finished. some of the flowers are sprouting, but not as many as she would have liked; she hadn't had many seeds to start with, anyway. seeds. something she planted inside of him, too? is that where they all went? past the path of the cottage there's the little fence and then the road and all the other cottages, along the path, the strange city out in the distance--so many unknowns, and tifa lost among them, gone from this place. )
Maybe that's right.
( a small nod, confirming to herself, as she stands on that edge. )
Maybe I'm inside of you now, maybe you'll never be able to dig me back out again.
( that thing that she'd always wanted to avoid, isn't it? telling cloud not to do this or that, not to blame himself, not to get too wrapped up in feeling her because it would just hurt him later. )
... I don't want to dig you out, either.
( one of her hands moves, closes in against her chest, but there's no necklace there to reach for tonight. )
I feel... strange...
( sick, almost. is it the alcohol? or is it the realization? she takes a step back, and then another, shaking her head; that just makes it worse. ) I think I need to sit down...
no subject
a few steps: just a few steps, that's all it takes, really, just another lean in the right direction, and there's the edge of the roof, the path to her front door that she can see from where they are, the garden that she still hasn't finished. some of the flowers are sprouting, but not as many as she would have liked; she hadn't had many seeds to start with, anyway. seeds. something she planted inside of him, too? is that where they all went? past the path of the cottage there's the little fence and then the road and all the other cottages, along the path, the strange city out in the distance--so many unknowns, and tifa lost among them, gone from this place. )
Maybe that's right.
( a small nod, confirming to herself, as she stands on that edge. )
Maybe I'm inside of you now, maybe you'll never be able to dig me back out again.
( that thing that she'd always wanted to avoid, isn't it? telling cloud not to do this or that, not to blame himself, not to get too wrapped up in feeling her because it would just hurt him later. )
... I don't want to dig you out, either.
( one of her hands moves, closes in against her chest, but there's no necklace there to reach for tonight. )
I feel... strange...
( sick, almost. is it the alcohol? or is it the realization? she takes a step back, and then another, shaking her head; that just makes it worse. ) I think I need to sit down...