[She can sense the unsaid words being exchanged in their glances when he approaches her—in how their gazes don't quite fully connect and when they do, the only thing that comes from it is a tender spark of regret or guilt or sadness between them. There are so many things that Tifa wants to say as well, but she bites down on the words and, like him, chooses to try and save them from sinking too far back into the cold before they can even leave the house.
Her mouth opens and closes when he takes her by the hand, and although it feels so much colder than Tifa remembers it always being, she still savours the feeling of it. That stable, firm grip that she always feels so safe holding onto. It's enough, and that warmth that finds its way back into her heart as she lets him lead her down steps to the ground is enough to expel some of that cold that she knows isn't the briskness of the early morning.
The stars are still scattered in the sky, the highest points of it still velvety blue, but across at the horizon, she can see the oranges and yellows bleeding upwards like watercolours across an indigo page, and it draws a breathy, quiet sigh out of her when she realizes that this sunrise feels a little less beautiful and a little more tainted than the others...
They walk in rigid, tense silence to the stables which—thankfully—aren't far from their home to fetch their horses. They are still asleep by the time they get there, and whinny with tired frustration at being woken up so early, stamping their feet as they rise, and Tifa offers hers quiet apologies and gentle pets along her mane where her blue and pink flowers have yet to open and bloom for the day. She feels a little bad, but once they've eaten, they seem to grow more amicable, and once again, Tifa notices that she keeps looking to the large black stallion as they strap their saddles on. Their conversations remain direct and short, to the point, and only about what's right in front of them even as they hop on their backs and begin their journey out to the forest.
It's only then that Tifa even mentions anything else, as she peers over to the vista again to see the sun peering out from behind.]
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Her mouth opens and closes when he takes her by the hand, and although it feels so much colder than Tifa remembers it always being, she still savours the feeling of it. That stable, firm grip that she always feels so safe holding onto. It's enough, and that warmth that finds its way back into her heart as she lets him lead her down steps to the ground is enough to expel some of that cold that she knows isn't the briskness of the early morning.
The stars are still scattered in the sky, the highest points of it still velvety blue, but across at the horizon, she can see the oranges and yellows bleeding upwards like watercolours across an indigo page, and it draws a breathy, quiet sigh out of her when she realizes that this sunrise feels a little less beautiful and a little more tainted than the others...
They walk in rigid, tense silence to the stables which—thankfully—aren't far from their home to fetch their horses. They are still asleep by the time they get there, and whinny with tired frustration at being woken up so early, stamping their feet as they rise, and Tifa offers hers quiet apologies and gentle pets along her mane where her blue and pink flowers have yet to open and bloom for the day. She feels a little bad, but once they've eaten, they seem to grow more amicable, and once again, Tifa notices that she keeps looking to the large black stallion as they strap their saddles on. Their conversations remain direct and short, to the point, and only about what's right in front of them even as they hop on their backs and begin their journey out to the forest.
It's only then that Tifa even mentions anything else, as she peers over to the vista again to see the sun peering out from behind.]
Looks like we made it just in time.
[She's trying...]