[With a weak smile, she pours the coffee into their large canteen and sets it aside.]
I'm going to go get cleaned up too real quick. I won't be long.
[While he finishes up with the sandwiches, it's Tifa's turn to head into the bathroom, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, she collapses over the sink, her hands bracing her on either side as she heaves a heavy breath as if this was her first gulp of air in minutes. She turns the tap on full blast to mask the sob that she feels coming, and a hand comes up to search her chest, to feel around at the skin... Lowering her shirt, she can see that she still only bears the one scar, but it's as if she can feel the other one burning through her as she remembers the feeling of those hot, scaled claws ripping across it. The teeth piercing her...
Tifa stills at the memory, and as she tries to shake it off, those images in the dream come in to replace them instead. Eustace hunched over her body; his hands stained in blood—her blood—as it pools in the snow. How she had felt that wound reopen, and the fear that bled out of it. Fear for herself, and worst of all, fear for him.
What was making him see these kinds of dreams? Everything had been fine. They've been fine. So perfect, even, that she wondered if there was something going on, but at some point, Tifa had accepted and embraced that things were truly looking up for them. So, what could it have been that triggered such a horrific ending to a wonderful dream? She hates it—she hates that she can't do anything about it. She can tell him things are going to be okay, but how does she make those dreams and those fears stop? Tifa had managed to swallow it all down, she could pretend she was fine, but could he?
Her hands ball tightly into fists, and she can feel them trembling as she fights the urge to slam one of them into something—the sink, the mirror, the wall...
Just keep it together... For him. For them.
She's almost too afraid to look at herself, but she catches a glimpse of her reflection. She can see how tired she looks, with the frown that's settled into her brow, her frail stance as she stands hunched over the sink, and the glisten of tears that line the bottoms of her reddened, heavy eyes. With a little sigh, she leans over and splashes the cold water over her face, again and again until she feels more aware. And after she finishes washing her face and brushing her teeth, and finishes recentering herself, she comes back out to him only a few minutes later with a smile.]
no subject
Don't trick me with anything.
[With a weak smile, she pours the coffee into their large canteen and sets it aside.]
I'm going to go get cleaned up too real quick. I won't be long.
[While he finishes up with the sandwiches, it's Tifa's turn to head into the bathroom, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, she collapses over the sink, her hands bracing her on either side as she heaves a heavy breath as if this was her first gulp of air in minutes. She turns the tap on full blast to mask the sob that she feels coming, and a hand comes up to search her chest, to feel around at the skin... Lowering her shirt, she can see that she still only bears the one scar, but it's as if she can feel the other one burning through her as she remembers the feeling of those hot, scaled claws ripping across it. The teeth piercing her...
Tifa stills at the memory, and as she tries to shake it off, those images in the dream come in to replace them instead. Eustace hunched over her body; his hands stained in blood—her blood—as it pools in the snow. How she had felt that wound reopen, and the fear that bled out of it. Fear for herself, and worst of all, fear for him.
What was making him see these kinds of dreams? Everything had been fine. They've been fine. So perfect, even, that she wondered if there was something going on, but at some point, Tifa had accepted and embraced that things were truly looking up for them. So, what could it have been that triggered such a horrific ending to a wonderful dream? She hates it—she hates that she can't do anything about it. She can tell him things are going to be okay, but how does she make those dreams and those fears stop? Tifa had managed to swallow it all down, she could pretend she was fine, but could he?
Her hands ball tightly into fists, and she can feel them trembling as she fights the urge to slam one of them into something—the sink, the mirror, the wall...
Just keep it together... For him. For them.
She's almost too afraid to look at herself, but she catches a glimpse of her reflection. She can see how tired she looks, with the frown that's settled into her brow, her frail stance as she stands hunched over the sink, and the glisten of tears that line the bottoms of her reddened, heavy eyes. With a little sigh, she leans over and splashes the cold water over her face, again and again until she feels more aware. And after she finishes washing her face and brushing her teeth, and finishes recentering herself, she comes back out to him only a few minutes later with a smile.]
All ready to go?