dreamcrystals | fifth entry ⊗ first dream: only in a dream

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fifth entry ⊗ first dream: only in a dream

Sender: Eustace
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Death makes for a sad ending to an otherwise happy dream (no violent acts but there is a lot of heavy grief)
Notes: A dream depicting glimpses of a lone wolf at various stages of his life and eventually forming his own family until...

It begins with a vast snowy white landscape, so empty and barren save for a few bundles of trees that appear here and there. Atop a barren cliff lays a lone silver gray wolf, its right eye slightly scarred at its brow as if it had been burned, but it's subtle, just barely noticeable under the tufts of fur. As the wolf slowly opens its eyes, the right eye is a little duller compared to the bright blue of the left. But it can see just as well and it tracks the sudden movement below—of other wolves crossing the snowy plains, a few of them playing around and running freely with each other.

It seems warmer down there, welcoming...yet the lone wolf remains at his perch, turning his head away as ice forms around him.

Time passes and what was once a barren snowscape has changed, pockets of grass and more trees poking through the snow. The wolf is now on the ground watching the others play around, but while he keeps his distance every so often one approaches to shove its head against his side, as if pushing the wolf to the group. The wolf grumbles, pinning his ears and baring his fangs...but he never attacks. Instead two smaller ones appear, one with blue tinted fur and another and orange red, and it's with their help that the lone wolf moves and is brought into the fold. There other wolves run out to greet him, each with their own distinct markings. The lone wolf still doesn't really participate, but he stays within the group, watching...and slowly his tail sways from one side to the other.

Like stop motion the trees grow, the grass spreads, and the number of wolves grow. The once lone wolf still doesn't really participate with their antics, but he appears calmer and more relaxed. He mostly stays on the edge, but he wanders through to be with the others, even letting the younger ones "tussle" with him. The cliff he once inhabited has turned into a mossy green and he hasn't returned to it in a long while. But when he looks out, there's a new wolf beyond the pack—black, female, with deep red eyes. He's wary at first, but she's welcomed into the fold like everyone else who has come through. When she passes by him, his eyes follow her, the scent of flowers lingering.

Once more time passes and the scenes pass quickly, all focused on the black wolf. Of her bothering the gray wolf and sticking to his side. Of her crying and he comforting her. Of him chasing and cornering her. Of quiet moments of them together. With each one, more snow disappears and the feeling of spring grows with the warm atmosphere, and his voice whispers in the breeze as each snapshot passes through.

Tifa, you are my partner now, and I want you to be there in my future. I told you before... You are the one I chose to be my partner for life. The one I chose to give my heart and soul to. No one else.

Tifa Lockhart.

The two wolves race through the snow, a black and silver blur leaving flowers in their wake.

Will you marry me?

Around their necks are matching necklaces: a metal dog tag and glowing charm, the moon on the black wolf and a star on the gray. They continue into the forest of trees, through a flower field bursting with colors—the sunlight dancing over them as petals swirl around them as the two wolves continue to frolic and play with each other, the remaining ice that had once surrounded the gray wolf completely melted away. Eventually they stop to rest against each other, and as he looks over at his mate, his blue eyes shine in a way they never have before. Soft, gentle, completely in love. Slowly they close, wrapped up in that beautiful bliss...

...And when they open, he finds himself staring at two small pairs of eyes, one red, one blue, their coats a darker gray. The pups' tails wag eagerly in the air as they bark.

Dad!
Yay he's awake!
Play with us!

At first he's confused—

Dad?

Who's dad?? But he hears the soft laugh and as he's shoved over onto the side by the pups, he looks over to see the black wolf sitting nearby with a smile, her red eyes shining in delight.

Understanding crashes into him like a tidal wave, and while something in the back of his mind tries to warn him, there's a burst of light, the ground overflowing with flowers as he laughs and plays with the pups. His pups.

His family.

Things go by in a blur. Spending lazy days together, meeting and venturing with the original pack. It seems as if it all could end peacefully like this. ...But then there's a low rumble overhead, dark shadows overtaking the once sunny area. As lightning cracks high overhead as if to shatter the once picturesque sky, the pups whine and hide beneath his legs. It's just a storm and yet there's a chill in the air that causes every single hair to stand on end. One that makes them run, run before the darkness engulfs them, run to their home where they would be safe. But—

Where is she?

—the thought blares through his mind as they dash into the cave and everything goes dark.

Rain falls. It beats on the gray wolf who sits with his head hung low, his once vibrant blue eyes dull and lifeless, tears now ice frozen on his fur. In fact there's no color at all—it's all white, gray, and black. In front of him is the black wolf lying on her side, eyes closed. A dark pool spreads beneath her lifeless body, flecks of red breaking through the monochrome. Her necklace lies in shattered pieces, the beautiful glowing moon crushed, dull. Beside him the pups whine and try to move him, but he doesn't budge. He can't. The weight of loss chains him down—

I failed.
I failed to protect her...

I killed her.

Slowly he falls forward, his head landing lightly just above hers. As the rain turns to the snow, ice crackles and forms around him. At first he still hears the pups, but when he slowly cranes his neck he can see them fade away, disappearing into the ether. Because they were never real to begin with.

They never can be real, a dark voice whispers as the snow continues to slowly bury him. None of this is.

No longer is he a wolf, but Eustace cradling Tifa's lifeless body as it slowly disappears, the snow and ice almost completely covering him as the voice becomes heavier and more oppressive as it continues.

When you wake up, you will forget it all like you did before. When she wakes up she will leave you for another.

A dream. This is all just a dream.

All it ever will be.

[It's there that the dream will cut off as Eustace jolts awake.

Note: there will be some delay before Eustace responds but he'll at least be of...somewhat calm mind if a bit more reticent and giving shorter, curt answers. ]

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Oh. You're awake.

[Tifa narrowly dodges accidentally bumping Clover with her foot as she leans down to scoop her up into her arms, the kitten's warmth a welcome one in the cold room. Her eyes flit to Eustace over the cat's head, lingering on him briefly before she masks her sadness in Clover's fur with kisses behind her ears. She mewls in protest and Tifa shakes her head before she sets her down again.]

We'll be back a little later.

[Padding over to the cupboards, she pulls out a bowl and some food for both Clover and Eria to leave in their usual spots, trusting that the wolf will keep Clover from eating the entire meal in a single sitting as she tends to do.]

Right. [With a crooked, shy smile, she gathers up what she can, swinging a bag over her shoulder before slipping on her shoes at the door.] At least we can catch the sunrise on the way...

[On horseback. That... should be nice, right?]

[He looks at her, and there's a brief conflicted expression as if he wants to say something, but he holds it and just nods before walking to her with their brunch, lunch, whatever this will end up being in his hands. Yet once he reaches her, he again feels as if he needs to say something, but what? They're both going to end up being a mess again.]

...Let's go.

[In the end he just finds her hand to take it and lead them out, the usually warm air a brisk chill instead.]

[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.]

Looks like we made it just in time.

[She's trying...]

[Although the distance is not too great, it's a long, silent ride as they make their way to the campsite. Again Eustace wonders if he's making the right decision, but there is something about the stillness and early morning quiet of the forest that does ease a little more of his mind. Or rather, it lets him sort through his thoughts once more without being stifled within their otherwise comfortable home.

There were three things that dream hit that sent him reeling: 1) her death and being unable to protect her, possibly being the cause of it; 2) when they return to their own worlds, it's over; 3) and idea of starting an actual family in the future. It certainly wasn't pleasant to have the top three dreads and fears hit him all at once, and even more when Tifa not only saw it, but also experienced. Even though they've talked about at least two of these things before, he has to wonder what she's really thinking, really feeling. What...did she experience from her side of the dream? He realizes now he hasn't had a chance to really ask her, having been too caught up in his own emotions.

Then there's the matter of his nightmare energy... He thought he was fine, but is he not? He had already made plans and acquired as many precautionary measures as possible, but is it enough? ...And how should he tell her? Briefly the question of should he tell her comes to mind, but he knows the answer to that. She would be more angry at him if he didn't. So the real question is when. Should he tell her now? ...Later, like tomorrow when they're feeling less frayed? or would it not matter...

On the outside, Eustace remains quiet, clearly absorbed in his thoughts, but in truth he's in turmoil as he is once more dragging Tifa down a path of heartache. He can only hope...maybe here, after they talk through things, they can find their peace and calm once more.

At her words he looks up, his eyes lingering on the warm colors. To think it was just earlier this month they were here and everything seemed even brighter and warmer than now...]

...Mm. Let's go a little higher up.

[Her smile falls slightly at his quiet answer, but she tries to fix it quickly before he can look back at her and see how it fades. Being out here in the trees, walking alongside the creek where the water moves along without a care in the world, where the birds sing their morning songs, where the fireflies in the fog dim their lights to make way for the sun that's about to rise, it reminds her of those happier mornings they spent out here.

It's so brisk and smells so fresh, just like it had on those days when she woke up beside him in that tent with a smile, and it should be refreshing and invigorating to her senses, but each time she looks at the back of Eustace and sees how his shoulders tense beneath that burden he's trying to carry all on his own, it obscures those memories more and more.

Tifa nudges the sides of her horse to pick up the pace, and the mare breaks into a gentle gallop down the path until she's able to pass Eustace and move in front of him. It's easier to hide her face this way.]

Should we go back up to that same spot? On top of the waterfall?

[There's a joyful inflection to her voice that feels very out of place as soon as she hears it, but it's there to mask the frailness and unsteadiness of it when she feels her nerves flaring up the moment she realizes how close to their campsite they are. They are going to need to talk about everything, and she is going to have to ask him those questions that have been burning an aching hole in her heart since she woke up and suddenly, she isn't sure if she wants to get up there sooner or draw out the walk for as long as possible.]

[He hears her galloping up behind him and only watches her move ahead before he picks up the space to catch up to her.]

We'll have to leave the horses at the bottom since the path is too rough for them, but we can.

[She looses a sigh when he comes up beside her, and she glimpses across at him through the corners of her eyes, trying her best to read his expression in the shadows of the trees, but she can't. And when she realizes that he's doing the same thing she is, she trains her eyes forward onto the path again.]

Did you have somewhere else in mind...?

[Then again, keeping the horses away might be in everyone's best interests at this point, because her own shakes her head at something, and Tifa can only assume it's at them. Animals can sense things, and she wouldn't be surprised if she could feel the weight of words unsaid hanging in the air between them.]

[He continues to look up at the sky and then suddenly turns his horse to the side.]

Over here.

[And without another word he leads them to a small area where he'll dismount and loosen the tack so the horses can roam freely unimpeded before he'll lead Tifa up a small climb up am incline. It's near the place where they were last with the sound of the waterfall nearby, but it's at a different angle and instead of clear ground there are large, flat rocks they can sit on instead.]

[She follows along silently again as he leads her up the path, and somewhere along the way, she takes him by the hand into her tentative but firm grip. Her hands are cold from the ride, but behind that, there's a tenderness there too, a longing to still be there for him, and at his side no matter what kind of tension rolls between them.

It's like a thick cloud that fogs her vision—she can't quite see or think as clearly, and no matter how hard she tries to push it way, only more of it comes back. No matter how much she tries to grab hold to control it, her fingers slip right through like smoke.

When they arrive at the rocks, she still refuses to let him go, and they wander over together to sit, Tifa setting her bag down. The horizon is up ahead, and the indigo skies have turned to a soft yellow. She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and rocks gently on the rock to get comfortable. She isn't quite sure what to say, but she says something anyway to break and find a way through the silence.]

... Did you already know about this place too?

[This feels like the kind of place Eustace might have taken her to on a happier morning, when they wanted to come out here.]

[He accepts her hand, and while he holds it firmly and gives her a soft glance back, there is still a feeling of that strange uncertain distance from the cloud that overhangs them. Literally, at this point there is a gray misty shadow that slowly forms over the area as they walk, darkening the area a bit. And once they reach the area, he continues to walk with her, letting her situate herself before he sits next ot her.]

Mm... I scouted the entire area. There are a few other places that have a good view.

It's nice...

[In spite of all of this, the flowers still bloom a little bigger and they rustle in the crisp wind that passes through. And when he sits next to her, she moves so that she's tucked right up against his side.

Another stretch of silence lingers, and Tifa keeps her eyes fixed on the sunrise, trying to keep her attention focused on that and not on the awful knotting in her stomach or the twisting in her heart as it sweeps over them. What is usually so natural and so comfortable has turned into something sad and uneasy... painful to sit through, and although there's so much to say, she doesn't know where to start or how to say it.

Instead, she slips her hands away so that she can zip open her bag and pulls out the canteen of coffee, twists the cap off and pours some of it in before offering him the container while she nurses the small lid, lifting it to her lips to take in the scent and the comforting, familiar warmth it gives off.

...

....

After a few more moments of watching the sunrise and a couple of careful sips of the hot coffee, she sets it down on the rock next to her and folds her hands in her lap, her fingers fidgeting among themselves.]

Eustace... I can't stand this. I don't like... whatever this is.

[There's no easy way to do this, so she's just going to come out and say it, and there's a nervous energy about her—it shakes her voice and twists the smile that she tries to put on for him, but she's going to push through it anyway because there's nothing else worse than sitting here in this silence with him.]

[He remains quiet, offering a small word of thanks when she hands him the coffee—but he doesn't drink it, instead holding it in his hands as he stares out at the sun. He knows he shouldn't, but because of that dream, he wonders how many more will they have? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? And when the dark reds bleed into the oranges, a more unpleasant memory comes to mind, forcing him to look away before it completely spoils everything.

It's around then that Tifa speaks up, and he only glances at her, fingers tightening their grip OK the thermos before makes a small sound of acknowledgement.]

...Mm.

[But then what? How should they start? With a small sigh he sets down the untouched thermos to the ground.]

...It's difficult. And I know you're having a tough time with it as well.

[And then be voices the question they both share.]

Where do we even begin?

[She knew it would be a useless endeavor to try and hide her own fears about it. Tifa had grown up quickly and learned how to mask them all well for the sake of others, and for herself, but Eustace... he could open her up so easily and read her as if it were nothing that was it even worth the effort?

She stiffens when he mentions it, and when he voices that same question that's been troubling her at the back of her mind since they decided they would come out here, her eyes move from the sunrise to him. She stares at him for a while—perhaps longer than she should in silence, and her lips part with the hope of being able to come up with a reply, but nothing comes out at first.

...

Tifa shifts uncomfortably again.]

I don't know.

[She doesn't have the answers, and she wishes she did, but even the simplest one of where to start, what to say... none of that is coming to her. So, Tifa does the one thing she knows to do right now and leans in, her fingers tapping the end of his chin, and she touches her lips to his in a light kiss. It's cautious, soft, barely a brush, but it carries the same weight of her feelings her kisses always do, and she wants to be certain that he knows where she stands after all of this.

That, no matter what, she doesn't love him less than she did yesterday, or even a second ago.]

How about... from the beginning? [Tifa moves back slightly to look him in his eyes. To really look at him, and it's the first time since she has they sat in bed together.] Has this been bothering you a while?

[His eyes close briefly at the kiss, his fingers twitching to reach out for hers and then they eventually do, taking the one that had tapped his chin and to hold it against his cheek as if seeking her warmth. Only then does he half open his eyes to meet her gaze, his expression a bit conflicted.

...How long...]

...Not exactly. ...Not everything, at least.

[A small sigh.]

You already know most of my concerns and fears...but it's nothing new, at least not by now. I hadn't thought anything of it until that dream.

[She feels a surge of relief, of happiness, when he takes her hand, and her own fingers curl along his jaw, her thumb stroking the gentlest, most comforting lines over his cheek as he presses into it. Her smile is small and crooked, but it fades just as quickly as it had appeared when he answers.

Even starting from the beginning, it's difficult still to find which way to go from here. There's too much to unpack, and there's too much that hurts them both that she's afraid to open it all up and find out...

Her brow furrows with worry as her gaze roams over his expression.]

I don't think I know all of them...

...

[Again a conflicted expression as he averts his gaze.]

...No, you don't. They're more difficult to bring up.

[A quiet, almost pained noise escapes her, as if she were trying to fight back an oncoming sob. He's suffered through so much, and how much of it does Tifa truly know?

Her other hand comes up to rest against her chest, where the charm and the dog tag lay hidden beneath her shirt, and she can feel them through the fabric, can feel their weight around her neck as they remind her of how far they've come together in the last year... and how much further they can go if he'd just let her in a little bit more.]

Well... [she begins slowly, the word forming before she has something to follow it up with.] We can talk about them.

[They should talk about them is what she should have said.]

I want to know... Whatever they are, I wanna help.

[He studies her for a moment, lips pursing for a moment. He's been fairly honest with most things, but then there are others where he's only touched on but not really delved into with her. Reasonably so as they aren't the most pleasant of topics and he doesn't want to needlessly worry her.

He knows how she's like.

...]

...It's not that I don't trust you.

[Just a slow beginning before he looks at her carefully.]

But I don't want you to worry more than you need to, or worse—do something on your own.

[He then gives her a slight look.]

I'm not the only one who is keeping things to themselves for the same reasons.

[...

Tifa regards him with a hard look—not anger in the least but upset by how that rings true. A protest forms in her head, but by the time it makes its way out, it's become nothing, because how could she even argue it when he has a point? If she knew there was a way to fix it or to help, why wouldn't she go and find it? She would get up and run and leave him here in the dust now if someone had given her the answer they need to make this all stop.

But it hasn't, and she has more questions than she does answers, and being left in the dark when she ends up seeing things like this hurts more than whatever could be waiting for her if she tried to "do something on her own."]

I'm already worried. I always am.

[Her voice is small, and she lets her forehead fall to his.]

I keep seeing all these things, and I don't know why. The stuff in that dream, you in that moonscape...

[He knows what he said might hit hard, but it's something that needs to be pointed out. Of course, he's not guiltless. He takes things on his own all the time, and he's also being unfair to Tifa as well. Even if his thought process is well intended (not wanting her to worry), it's still keeping her out. And now...it's about time to open up before they really do make a mistake.]

As to why it keeps appearing... I'm not sure I have an answer, except that the nightmares are pulling out my deepest fears and making me face them as if to remind me.

[A small snort of derision.]

I promise you, the things you see... I don't think about them often. But it is true that they exist. Especially... [His face twists again as he hates having to say it aloud let alone think about it.] ...Of you dying.

[Her breath catches subtly in her throat, but he'll no doubt have heard it, even as she tries to swallow down that bubble of dread that leaps up from the center of her chest. The air around her snaps cold, as if his words had sucked any warmth right out of it, and she can feel the goosebumps rising all over her skin, and that pool of heat forming where she'd felt the blood in the dream...

Where it had felt so, so real...

Tifa doesn't mean to put any distance between them, but she leans back again to look into his eyes, to try and stare past that hardened expression and see what he's really thinking and feeling, but it's so hard to when her own eyes are starting to glaze over with fear.

Her fingers twitch against his cheek, and her hand slides down to rest around the back of his neck instead.]

...Is this...

[She's almost too afraid to say the words and bring that memory forward again after she—they had worked so hard to push it away.]

... about what happened in that dreamscape?

[He should know which one she's referring to. It's haunted them both for far too long, it seems.]

...Yes.

[A small exhale as his head sags slightly, the guilt and pain clear not only in his eyes and expression, but his entire body. How his body tenses, retracting into himself.]

...I'll never be able to forget it. I can't, it's impossible. Even if I learn to live with it so that I can at least not have such visceral reactions, it's still too soon. Even then...

[There may always be that small flinch, that small ripple of tension even in the years to come.]

...I've taken many lives, so my hands were never clean. But you... [He cuts himself short as he closes his eyes, unable to bear it.

It's only reasonable for him to be like this. Although he may have hardened himself to kill enemies, to take the life of the one he treasured and wanted to protect the most...there's no way he'll be able to shake that off.]

To lose anyone...is already something I fear. [His voice wavers a little although, his voice starting to shake.] But to do it by my own hands...

[It doesn't matter if he was unable to control it. No—it's worse. Far worse. It means he has a vulnerability, a weakness. That he can't truly protect those he loves.]

[But you weren't in control, is what she wants to tell him. That it wasn't his fault... but she knows that those words are empty to him. Tifa knows that him being unable to control it is why it's so terrifying in the first place. She trusts, without a shred of doubt, that he would never do anything to hurt her, but this world and its magic or the forces that compel them to do things that they'd never do in their right minds always seem to have other plans.

Still, she wishes there was something—anything that she could say to help make this pain of his go away, and to stop it from bleeding into her so that she can't stand firm for him to lean on. Tifa flinches when he cuts himself off, that thought lingering in the air for far too long before he speaks again, but at some point, she hasn't realized that she's stopped breathing as she combs her fingertips gently through his hair, hanging onto his every word.]

... I wish there was a way I could make this stop...

[To forget it all, but even when they go home to their own worlds, that pain will never leave their hearts. It will be something that they will have to live carrying, whether they realize it or not, forever. Tifa came back after what happened—they woke up and she ran to him, but she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't still bearing the burden of that fear still... She just forced it down so that she could be there for him.

Now that he's opening up to her about it, she still isn't sure what to do, and although it's tearing her from the inside out, she isn't going to let this moment go to waste.]

And the moonscape...?

[He knows. He knows very well that she wants to do something for him—anything. And that's why he's kept it to himself. Now it might be different, but back then it was not her burden to bear. And even then...he has no answer. What can be done for what's a significant trauma? Just having her by his side has already been more than enough.

But at her question, he stiffens, eyes trembling as the illusion flashes back with a lot more clarity than he would have liked. Immediately after he clenches his fist in a vain attempt to suppress the anguish and fear that comes with it, and again he really doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to subject her to that horror again.

...However he had told himself that he needed to be more honest with her as it's more of a question of "when" than "if" at this point on her somehow seeing it. So he looks at her for a moment before he can only look down, trying to keep himself steady.

Tries to tell him it was just an illusion, it wasn't real...

...Would be a lot more convincing if it hadn't already happened once before.]

...You were dead.

[His voice is quiet, strained. Please don't ask him for the details—]

[She doesn't ask because there aren't any more details than what he's said. Tifa can put two and two together... she had been there, on that battlefield among the fires and the lightning that struck down around them, and she had seen him in the dream, cradling her body in his arms. Even if she'd wanted to press further, she's not sure she even wants to hear him explain something she can picture vividly in her head.

But now she can see it all again, and she leans forward to wrap her arm around him and to bury her face in his chest, to hide the mirrored pain in her eyes before she screws them shut, hidden against the front of his shirt.]

I had a feeling... [Her voice is muffled, frail, and arms tighten around him.] I'm right here... I always am.

[She doesn't think it will help much to hear it, if at all, but she feels the need to say it out loud and remind him anyway.]

They're just dreams. None of it is real. [There's a pause as Tifa gives a small shake of her head.] I'm sorry... I know this isn't helpful...

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