[Prepared? Tifa fires the same look at the Friar. She wasn't told that they were supposed to prepare anything. Maybe if this were her own wedding, she might have, but this was all pretend. What is she supposed to say on Juliet's behalf? She can guess how the princess feels about Romeo, but all the feelings that are rippling through her—those are her own, only amplified by the essence of the character and the atmosphere the world perpetuates.
She's about to shake her head in response, deciding that if she were to say something, she'd rather it be in private rather than under the scrutinizing stare of the Friar, but then Eustace's voice uttering Juliet's name pulls her back to him and the altar where they stand across from each other and for a fleeting moment, she forgets that none of this is real.
Because each and every one of his words resonates with her, and she knows that what he says isn't part of the act. This isn't scripted or forced, but this is his promise that he would remain at her side and have her back should she ever need it. She always knew, on the rough and even on the better days, but there was something different about this. Something more binding that wasn't born from the vows of marriage, but because this is only more proof that they have been through more together than she would care to admit, and more than with anyone else she's ever known, and no matter how difficult or strange it gets, they can get themselves out of it together.
And the thought forces a small sob that boils over in Tifa, and as much as she'd like to get the words out—any words to convey that to him, the only thing that she has to offer him right now is a small, appreciative, if not a little bit shy smile. Hearing all of this in front of the Friar, who is still watching her expectantly, waiting for hers...]
I...
[She can feel the words hanging on the tip of her tongue, but both their gazes on her as well as her eagerness to end this has her holding onto them.]
I... didn't prepare anything, no.
[But the look in Tifa's eyes when they meet Eustace's betrays that, like a silent affirmation that there are a hundred things she does wish to say to him, as Tifa. Just not here...
"Very well. My lord, the rings. If you will do the honour."]
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She's about to shake her head in response, deciding that if she were to say something, she'd rather it be in private rather than under the scrutinizing stare of the Friar, but then Eustace's voice uttering Juliet's name pulls her back to him and the altar where they stand across from each other and for a fleeting moment, she forgets that none of this is real.
Because each and every one of his words resonates with her, and she knows that what he says isn't part of the act. This isn't scripted or forced, but this is his promise that he would remain at her side and have her back should she ever need it. She always knew, on the rough and even on the better days, but there was something different about this. Something more binding that wasn't born from the vows of marriage, but because this is only more proof that they have been through more together than she would care to admit, and more than with anyone else she's ever known, and no matter how difficult or strange it gets, they can get themselves out of it together.
And the thought forces a small sob that boils over in Tifa, and as much as she'd like to get the words out—any words to convey that to him, the only thing that she has to offer him right now is a small, appreciative, if not a little bit shy smile. Hearing all of this in front of the Friar, who is still watching her expectantly, waiting for hers...]
I...
[She can feel the words hanging on the tip of her tongue, but both their gazes on her as well as her eagerness to end this has her holding onto them.]
I... didn't prepare anything, no.
[But the look in Tifa's eyes when they meet Eustace's betrays that, like a silent affirmation that there are a hundred things she does wish to say to him, as Tifa. Just not here...
"Very well. My lord, the rings. If you will do the honour."]