[Once again, moving forward, Tifa doesn't look back, even when she hears the crashing of the ice from behind. Not that there's much to see at first as her eyes try to adjust to the very sudden burst of light and the way the sun beats down on her, its warmth a very stark contrast to what she felt in the darkness.
When she finally gets her vision back, she does take a moment to look around this time. She's surrounded by star flowers. Millions of them in a field that seems to stretch on forever past the horizon. They rustle in the wind, their sweet scent being carried on its back as it swirls around her, kicking up petals as it moves over the flowers. She walks this time, minding the blossoms as much as she can, with Aerith's voice in the back of her head nitpicking at her to be careful.
Her steps only slow to a stop when she comes across someone lying in the bed of flowers, and with a silent apology to Aerith for jogging, she moves to check up on them, halting again only when she sees the spill of black hair and the fair skin against the blue.]
... Huh?
[Is that... her?
She's sleeping so soundly, her chest rising and falling. Tifa closes the distance between her and... herself, and kneels over to check. Is this her right now? Or is this how Eustace sees her? So quiet, so peaceful... the same way that she sees him as he sleeps next to her.
Tifa won't try to wake her, but instead adjusts her arms so that she—herself—is more comfortable, and she plucks a single flower from the bed and places it between her fingers...
It's a little surreal, looking down at herself. This is the kind of thing that only happens in fever dreams, and she knows that this isn't one. She knows that this is a nightmare and that this image is only going to last for so long before it all crumbles like everything else did. Still, she whispers quietly, as if this sleeping Tifa might have the answer...]
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When she finally gets her vision back, she does take a moment to look around this time. She's surrounded by star flowers. Millions of them in a field that seems to stretch on forever past the horizon. They rustle in the wind, their sweet scent being carried on its back as it swirls around her, kicking up petals as it moves over the flowers. She walks this time, minding the blossoms as much as she can, with Aerith's voice in the back of her head nitpicking at her to be careful.
Her steps only slow to a stop when she comes across someone lying in the bed of flowers, and with a silent apology to Aerith for jogging, she moves to check up on them, halting again only when she sees the spill of black hair and the fair skin against the blue.]
... Huh?
[Is that... her?
She's sleeping so soundly, her chest rising and falling. Tifa closes the distance between her and... herself, and kneels over to check. Is this her right now? Or is this how Eustace sees her? So quiet, so peaceful... the same way that she sees him as he sleeps next to her.
Tifa won't try to wake her, but instead adjusts her arms so that she—herself—is more comfortable, and she plucks a single flower from the bed and places it between her fingers...
It's a little surreal, looking down at herself. This is the kind of thing that only happens in fever dreams, and she knows that this isn't one. She knows that this is a nightmare and that this image is only going to last for so long before it all crumbles like everything else did. Still, she whispers quietly, as if this sleeping Tifa might have the answer...]
Have you seen him?