[ it was supposed to be reno doing this, tseng reflects wryly as he climbs out of the car he'd requisitioned for this trip. although it had never been agreed upon formally, it seemed to be an unspoken understanding among the turks that reno would handle anything requiring interface with cloud and his group, while tseng would handle the administrative tasks surrounding the rebuilding of midgar edge in the weeks following sephiroth's second coming. not because tseng has anything against cloud or tifa or their adopted children, of course, but rather because—
because of this. the twinge of pain in his chest when he walks up the stairs of the old church in sanctuary way. it's been a long time since he visited here—months, if not years. the disrepair is more evident now without aerith's buoyant presence to fill the space, and the damage left behind by various conflicts have left the pews little more than piles of kindling; the hole in the floor of the apse, still filled with water and floating petals, twinkles welcomingly as tseng pauses at its edge.
a meeting with tifa, reno had said. well, tifa is nowhere to be found, which tseng supposes isn't surprising given the scope of her responsibilities between the bar and the delivery service. maybe she errs on the side of chronically late these days.
it's fine. the ache is so old tseng barely feels it, like an injury that's only aggravated when he moves a certain way. they said it was aerith who sent down the rain that swept the stigma away from midgar edge, that it was her healing touch and her love of the planet that had saved them all. tseng believes it. the only miracle he's ever really believed in was her, after all.
he crouches at the edge of the pool and leans down to trail a finger through the water, sending ripples across its surface. what would she say, to see him now, tseng wonders? the last time tseng saw aerith alive was in the temple of the ancients, tseng bleeding from a grievous wound and aerith trying her best to convince him that she'd never hated him at all. the truth, maybe. a pretty lie, maybe, from a woman convinced that he was going to die.
and she wasn't wrong. tseng's fairly sure he did die, at least once, on the operating table sometime between stumbling back into shinra hq and waking up in a hospital bed. but by then aerith was gone, and anyway, what did it matter? what more was tseng to aerith than her jailor, in the end? ]
[ She's spent years in the space between, there and not there, close to him, close to all of them, and yet further than anyone could ever hope to reach. She's watched them, sat beside and looked after them, nudged them back to their side of existence at every close call she could. All while she whispered the words of her prayers over and over into the Planet's veins, pouring as much light as she could muster into the darkness, and – it worked.
In the end, the light won, and there she was again.
Nobody could have imagined it was possible, least of all Aerith, who, despite being deeply entrenched in the Lifestream itself, had only just begun to learn the secrets of the great cosmic force she moved through like flower petals on the surface of a creek. Second only to her joy, was her sense of gratitude, a feeling so big and warm she expected it to swallow her whole after seeing a rare look of peace on Elmyra's face, and again when Aerith had the chance to jubilantly sob in Tifa's arms.
It's the same warmth she feels now, watching him from behind one of the few remaining solid pillars, while Tseng takes in the pool of water left behind in the wake of her great effort to help the Planet heal itself.
Haunting doesn't fit what Aerith's spent the times she's lingered by Tseng. There's no lament and regret compelling her towards his presence, just the same quiet, traitorously tender attachment she harbored in life. She was there after the temple, then, years later, the Northern Crater, but even beyond the times Aerith reached out to try to help him were the odd nights and days in between, where she'd pass through like a wind.
She's more than that, now – more than a current in the air that might make a person look up from what they're doing and towards a window for no reason at all – and Aerith might be no closer to understanding what that means for her, it's the people she cares for who are inadvertently helping her figure that out.
Silent feet carry her down the aisle, until she's drawn up behind him, peering over his shoulder at their reflections in the water, the fleeting but touching memory of the day off he took after she didn't come back from the temple rising to the forefront of her thoughts, warming that already fond smile on her face further. ] It's been a long time since this church was part of official business, huh?
[ unlike so many of the members of the group that was once avalanche, tseng had never managed to hear aerith's voice in drops of water clinging to eaves or splashing down to the earth; he had never seen her reflected in puddles or sensed her beyond the rainfall. but his attention has been caught by things that remind him of her—the scent of flowers on the wind, the flutter of a pink ribbon, the tinkle of feminine laughter from down the street. aerith has been everywhere, for him. everywhere, and also nowhere, or at least nowhere that tseng could touch.
which is why he jolts nearly out of his skin, to see her face suddenly reflected in the pool of water before him. in an instant, he's on his feet again, and he turns on his heel with his jaw set to face down whatever—whoever—might be co-opting aerith's appearance for its own gains—
but all he sees is—aerith. or someone who looks very much like her, anyway, right down to the fall of hair around her face, the amused twinkle in her green eyes. thank ramuh he didn't reach for his gun. ]
I don't, [ tseng says, for once at a loss for words. it takes a lot to leave a man like him speechless, but if ever there were something that could do it, it would be this: the reappearance of a woman long dead, against all odds. ] What—?
[ he draws a slow breath, shuddering, calming. the chances this is real are slim, tseng thinks; much more likely is a trick by some fiend, or even the inevitable fracture of tseng's own psyche under the weight of everything he's put it through over the years. is he hallucinating now? letting his brain cook up visions to comfort him in his grief? could his mind ever have a hope of recreating aerith faithfully, in all her perfection and all her flaws? ]
[ Has she ever seen Tseng this shocked? Not that she could blame him for being so stunned. Nearly everyone Aerith has seen since her return has met her with much the same, but Tseng is the portrait of cool and composed. His surprise isn't out of order, but it doesn't suit him.
Now, that deep breath? The way he squares his shoulders and asks her the first, most obvious and reasonable question? That's the Tseng she knows.
Unfortunately, she doesn't have an answer. Aerith hums out a wordless 'I dunno' and rolls her shoulders, her head tilting sideways as she does – the portrait of bewilderment. ]
Beats me.
[ Aware that while he might believe her, that answer isn't likely to cut it, Aerith continues, her tone light and conversational despite the mysterious topic at hand. ]
In a way, I was never really gone, but that doesn't mean I was here, either, but, after the stigma was healed, that changed.
[ There was a rush of light, water, and energy, and suddenly. ] Next thing I know I'm pulling myself out of this pool and giving Tifa a heart attack!
[ Then Tifa called the gang, and Reno, who called Tseng, and that brings them to the present, where Aerith clasps her hands behind her back and bends forward slightly, watching him with those luminous eyes of hers. ]
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2024-09-04 12:17 am (UTC)because of this. the twinge of pain in his chest when he walks up the stairs of the old church in sanctuary way. it's been a long time since he visited here—months, if not years. the disrepair is more evident now without aerith's buoyant presence to fill the space, and the damage left behind by various conflicts have left the pews little more than piles of kindling; the hole in the floor of the apse, still filled with water and floating petals, twinkles welcomingly as tseng pauses at its edge.
a meeting with tifa, reno had said. well, tifa is nowhere to be found, which tseng supposes isn't surprising given the scope of her responsibilities between the bar and the delivery service. maybe she errs on the side of chronically late these days.
it's fine. the ache is so old tseng barely feels it, like an injury that's only aggravated when he moves a certain way. they said it was aerith who sent down the rain that swept the stigma away from midgar edge, that it was her healing touch and her love of the planet that had saved them all. tseng believes it. the only miracle he's ever really believed in was her, after all.
he crouches at the edge of the pool and leans down to trail a finger through the water, sending ripples across its surface. what would she say, to see him now, tseng wonders? the last time tseng saw aerith alive was in the temple of the ancients, tseng bleeding from a grievous wound and aerith trying her best to convince him that she'd never hated him at all. the truth, maybe. a pretty lie, maybe, from a woman convinced that he was going to die.
and she wasn't wrong. tseng's fairly sure he did die, at least once, on the operating table sometime between stumbling back into shinra hq and waking up in a hospital bed. but by then aerith was gone, and anyway, what did it matter? what more was tseng to aerith than her jailor, in the end? ]
no subject
Date: 2024-09-14 03:47 am (UTC)In the end, the light won, and there she was again.
Nobody could have imagined it was possible, least of all Aerith, who, despite being deeply entrenched in the Lifestream itself, had only just begun to learn the secrets of the great cosmic force she moved through like flower petals on the surface of a creek. Second only to her joy, was her sense of gratitude, a feeling so big and warm she expected it to swallow her whole after seeing a rare look of peace on Elmyra's face, and again when Aerith had the chance to jubilantly sob in Tifa's arms.
It's the same warmth she feels now, watching him from behind one of the few remaining solid pillars, while Tseng takes in the pool of water left behind in the wake of her great effort to help the Planet heal itself.
Haunting doesn't fit what Aerith's spent the times she's lingered by Tseng. There's no lament and regret compelling her towards his presence, just the same quiet, traitorously tender attachment she harbored in life. She was there after the temple, then, years later, the Northern Crater, but even beyond the times Aerith reached out to try to help him were the odd nights and days in between, where she'd pass through like a wind.
She's more than that, now – more than a current in the air that might make a person look up from what they're doing and towards a window for no reason at all – and Aerith might be no closer to understanding what that means for her, it's the people she cares for who are inadvertently helping her figure that out.
Silent feet carry her down the aisle, until she's drawn up behind him, peering over his shoulder at their reflections in the water, the fleeting but touching memory of the day off he took after she didn't come back from the temple rising to the forefront of her thoughts, warming that already fond smile on her face further. ] It's been a long time since this church was part of official business, huh?
no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 06:12 pm (UTC)which is why he jolts nearly out of his skin, to see her face suddenly reflected in the pool of water before him. in an instant, he's on his feet again, and he turns on his heel with his jaw set to face down whatever—whoever—might be co-opting aerith's appearance for its own gains—
but all he sees is—aerith. or someone who looks very much like her, anyway, right down to the fall of hair around her face, the amused twinkle in her green eyes. thank ramuh he didn't reach for his gun. ]
I don't, [ tseng says, for once at a loss for words. it takes a lot to leave a man like him speechless, but if ever there were something that could do it, it would be this: the reappearance of a woman long dead, against all odds. ] What—?
[ he draws a slow breath, shuddering, calming. the chances this is real are slim, tseng thinks; much more likely is a trick by some fiend, or even the inevitable fracture of tseng's own psyche under the weight of everything he's put it through over the years. is he hallucinating now? letting his brain cook up visions to comfort him in his grief? could his mind ever have a hope of recreating aerith faithfully, in all her perfection and all her flaws? ]
How are you here?
no subject
Date: 2024-11-04 04:01 am (UTC)Now, that deep breath? The way he squares his shoulders and asks her the first, most obvious and reasonable question? That's the Tseng she knows.
Unfortunately, she doesn't have an answer. Aerith hums out a wordless 'I dunno' and rolls her shoulders, her head tilting sideways as she does – the portrait of bewilderment. ]
Beats me.
[ Aware that while he might believe her, that answer isn't likely to cut it, Aerith continues, her tone light and conversational despite the mysterious topic at hand. ]
In a way, I was never really gone, but that doesn't mean I was here, either, but, after the stigma was healed, that changed.
[ There was a rush of light, water, and energy, and suddenly. ] Next thing I know I'm pulling myself out of this pool and giving Tifa a heart attack!
[ Then Tifa called the gang, and Reno, who called Tseng, and that brings them to the present, where Aerith clasps her hands behind her back and bends forward slightly, watching him with those luminous eyes of hers. ]
I'm happy you came, Tseng.