[The sight is horrifying, and Tifa stands frozen, stunned, and mortified at what unfolds. His screams of tortured pain, how he clutches at his head as if trying to fight back against all of the things the curse is telling him, and she only blinks—flinches—when the lightning shakes her out of it and she feels the splatter of hot blood across her face when the spines violently tear through his skin.]
Romeo...?
[The name slips past her lips, strained and echoing the ache and pain she feels inside for him. Is it Juliet calling out to the man that she loves, hoping that her voice will reach him?
But the wind that bursts forth pushes back against Tifa, so strong that she can feel it cutting through the skin of her arms when she lifts them to shield herself from the dirt, grass, and fire that swirls within it. She digs her feet into the earth to stand against it, and after several steadying breaths, she pushes forward towards him.
By the time Tifa reaches him, she's covered in wounds new and old, her clothes are tattered and there's blood staining the white of her blouse.]
It's not...
[She doesn't even finish her sentence. Instead, she's about to make the rashest decision of her life, but if he isn't going to drink it on his own, then she said she would make him. And maybe, just maybe... this will work. Maybe, if he feels her touch, her love for him, and all of the things they shared, he'll find himself again.
Tifa takes the vial and lifts it to her mouth and downs it all in a single gulp, and the taste alone is enough to make her want to keel over and spit it out. Quickly, she takes hold of his face, the scales now almost fully covering it, and presses her lips to his in a firm but tender kiss, not unlike the ones she shared with him only hours before. Forcing his to part, she passes him the cure, and from the ashes and the flames, her hope springs forth from the ice in bushes of white roses.]
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Romeo...?
[The name slips past her lips, strained and echoing the ache and pain she feels inside for him. Is it Juliet calling out to the man that she loves, hoping that her voice will reach him?
But the wind that bursts forth pushes back against Tifa, so strong that she can feel it cutting through the skin of her arms when she lifts them to shield herself from the dirt, grass, and fire that swirls within it. She digs her feet into the earth to stand against it, and after several steadying breaths, she pushes forward towards him.
By the time Tifa reaches him, she's covered in wounds new and old, her clothes are tattered and there's blood staining the white of her blouse.]
It's not...
[She doesn't even finish her sentence. Instead, she's about to make the rashest decision of her life, but if he isn't going to drink it on his own, then she said she would make him. And maybe, just maybe... this will work. Maybe, if he feels her touch, her love for him, and all of the things they shared, he'll find himself again.
Tifa takes the vial and lifts it to her mouth and downs it all in a single gulp, and the taste alone is enough to make her want to keel over and spit it out. Quickly, she takes hold of his face, the scales now almost fully covering it, and presses her lips to his in a firm but tender kiss, not unlike the ones she shared with him only hours before. Forcing his to part, she passes him the cure, and from the ashes and the flames, her hope springs forth from the ice in bushes of white roses.]