spiritingaway | snowblind style angst

snowblind style angst

[They're in one of the nicer houses at the moment. Whoever lived here must have been rich, and while the place is looking a little worse for wear, it's still huge. That makes it a pain to search, but they're also more likely to find something useful.

Royce used to collect weapons almost obsessively, but Tifa doesn't think there's much point to that now. To be fair, weapons were never at the top of her list, but now there's no one to use them against. It's not like they do anything against the anomalies, after all. Personally, Tifa always holds out hope that she'll find something silly. It's fun to tease Royce, and she's secretly trying to find something even more hideous than that sweater that she can give him.

There's a big, ornate dresser pushed up against one wall that Tifa is rifling through. She's long since stopped wondering how it's possible that they can search a house and find something that they're certain wasn't there a few days ago. It's just another mystery of the town, like what keeps restocking the supply points or how the tablets stay charged. This drawer mostly seems to be a bunch of paperwork, full of bills and things she doesn't see any use in stopping to read. At the bottom, though, she finds a fake, glittery pink flower, slightly crushed but still intact. She snorts softly, pulling it out and then glances over at Royce.]

Hey, Royce.

[He should probably know by now from that tone that she's going to do something stupid.]

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[ Hey, he's taught her some slight of hand. He knows she has something in her hand but not what. Seeing as he trusts she's not going to like... throw sand in his face or something, he stands up and makes a big show of covering his eyes with his hand.

He also peeks. Because he's a brat. A brat with a tiny grin on his face. ]

Edited (html pls AND FORMATTING GOD RIP ME) 2016-06-01 04:40 (UTC)

[She loves his smile, so she's fine with him being a brat. Not so fine with him peeking, though.]

Royce.

[Stop it! She crosses the room to him, makes sure he's got his eyes covered, and then tucks the flower behind his ear, bending the wire stem so that it stays. It looks absolutely ridiculous, and she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing as she smooths his hair over the stem. The petals have left little flecks of pink glitter on her fingers, and she wipes them off gently on his cheek.]

There. Now you can open them.

[ He laughs quietly when she gets huffy with him, but he plays along. Eyes closed, he hums lightly as she fiddles with getting the ridiculous flower behind his ear. That glitter is never going to come off. He's going to be glittery forever. Woe is him.

When she tells him he's allowed to open his eyes, he immediately gives her a flat look. It's all teasing, though! He's still amused, it's in his eyes. He reaches up to touch the flower, and brings his hand down to look at the glitter left on his fingers. ]

Is your goal to make me look as stupid as possible? [ Royce asks as he casually just... wipes the glitter off on her face, hello, yes. Matching. ]

[Now they're both going to be glittery forever. She catches his hand, still smiling. He's very good at pretending to be grumpy, and Tifa can't help but think that it's really cute.]

You don't look stupid. It matches your sweater. [She says it as she lifts his hand, comparing one of the cats on his sleeve to the flower.] It's almost the same pink, see?

[He looks really stupid.]

Oh, hooray. [ Royce says, as monotone as possible. To his credit, he leaves the flower in! Look, she put it there, and he doesn't want to mess it up. She's smiling. He likes that. Likes that she does it more often, recently.

Grin cranking up just a notch, Royce twists his hand a little to take hers, pressing a kiss to the back of it. ] You won't lose me in the snow at least.

[Her heart flutters when he kisses the back of her hand. It's one of those silly romantic gestures that automatically makes her a little weak in the knees and she laughs again, a little flustered.]

If I do, I can just follow the trail of glitter to find you.

[It's already rubbing off into his hair, and there's no way he's going to get it out until the next time he washes it. Sorry, Royce.]

You know, there was a time an entire city was afraid of me. [ Royce says, exasperated. He has glitter in his hair. This is ridiculous. Doesn't stop him from tugging her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He's gotten more confident with this over the past few times he's tried to be romantic, learning what does and doesn't work. Royce has always picked up on things fast. ]

Now look at me. [ He jokes, arm around her waist. ]

You're still intimidating. [She says it reassuringly, still teasing, but he really can be. He's just not intimidating in her direction, that's all.

He kisses her cheek and she loops her arms around him, turning her head to press her lips to his softly. She's completely aware of how sappy and affectionate she's been lately, she just... can't help it.]

In a neon blue sweater with a pink flower tucked behind my ear. Yes, terrifying. [ Royce snarks at her. He knows he is, he knows he can be, but she's right. Royce hasn't been intimidating in her direction for a while, and he thinks he prefers it that way.

When she turns to kiss him, he hums, low and pleased. Maybe he gets caught up in it a little, resting his hand against her cheek and kissing her back, slow and affectionate. It's weird for him, weird to feel like this or want to feel like this. He's spent so much time pushing it away that it seems strange to indulge.

The kiss ends, and Royce hrms under his breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. ] I'll be less the wolf in sheep's clothing and more just the sheep if you keep this up.

[Tifa slips the flower from his hair and then loops her arms around his neck, still smiling at him in an affectionate sort of way. She vastly prefers him like this, relaxed instead of paranoid and menacing but, hey.]

There. More like a wolf again.

[ Royce prefers himself like this. He slips his arms around her waist for just a moment - she can probably feel the tension so often present in his shoulders loosen up with her close. He doesn't have to look over his shoulder when she's around, and he's not sure she understands how much of a relief that is. ]

You should wear it. [ He tells her, finally sliding away. He lets his hand run down her arms and carress at her fingers before he does, though. ] Looks better on you.

[She laughs, squeezing his fingers before stepping back.]

You haven't even seen it on me.

[Calling you out on your bias, Royce!]

[ He offers her a little grin. ] I don't have to have seen it. Everything looks better on you. [ Gross. Flatterer.

He turns to look to the window - it'll be getting dark soon. ] One more house before we settle in?

[Absolutely gross! She goes a little pink, though, so gross must work on her.]

Okay. One more.

[Remember what she said about pushing yourself, Royce?]

[ He remembers. That's why he said one house!

Search finished, Royce holds the door open for her, and follows her out to the very front. Maybe he's a little playful about it, in a genuinely good mood - he walks side by side with her, letting his hand brush hers. Weird, to be happy like this.

The snow makes him sigh, as usual. But he deals, just reaches to squeeze Tifa's hand in his own before making his way down into the snow. At least it's not as high as it has been in the past; he's had times where he's been almost knee deep in it. He pulls his jackets closer, and moves, trusting Tifa is right there with him.

He shouldn't let his guard down like this. ]

[Neither of them should. They both know better. Tifa sticks close, trailing back a step or two, distracted by just... watching him with a goofy smile on her face. She can't help it. It's nice to see him this happy, and she can't remember the last time she ever saw him smile this easily or often. Never, probably.

The snow isn't terrible, but it is deep enough to make moving awkward and slow them down somewhat. She doesn't even consider that she should be paying closer attention to her surroundings, too focused on Royce and slogging her way through the snow behind him.]

[ He lets his guard down, and that's why the attack catches him by surprise.

The anomalies aren't always very smart, but sometimes, they wait and watch for opportunities. Sometimes they don't go charging in. That's not so much the case for this particular one. No, this one comes in screaming, an echo-y, otherworldly noise that makes all of Royce's hair stand on end. He barely dodges it, throwing himself out of the way, but he's still recovering - he hits the ground with a grunt, trying to scramble up the best he can.

It's enough time for him to see what the anomaly looks like.

It's huge - easily towering over the both of them. Looks human, but not, looks frostbitten, rotting and dripping. It glows red on the inside, at the center of it, right in the chest, the pulse of color thudding like a heartbeat. The monster lunges past them and immediately turns to come right back at them. Screaming in that same way, it raises its arm - a familiar spadone, twisted and melded into its arm as if someone had crunched the forearm of a human and replaced the broken pieces with the sword instead. The monster runs full tilt right at Royce - and as it does, the scream twists into a hoarse, terrible approximation of Royce's name.

Royce freezes, staring, expression pained, because the face is unfamiliar, but god, if he doesn't know that voice. ]

[Tifa hears the screaming before she sees it. She whips her head around, barely registers that it's coming at them, and then scrambles out of the way, nearly going down in the snow. She just barely catches her balance, heart thudding in her chest as she prepares for it to come at her again. Recognition hits her like a punch to the gut. It's Hadrian, and as soon as her mind processes the thought, she realizes it won't be coming for her. Not with Royce there.

Royce is frozen. He's too distracted, and when the thing charges, her reaction is immediate. She hauls Royce up the rest of the way and then pushes him, hard. It gets him out of the way, but as the anomaly draws back its arm, Tifa realizes she won't have time to dodge. The thing drives its sword through her stomach and then rips it back out in one smooth, surprisingly elegant motion, and Tifa crumples to the ground.]

[ It's Hadrian. It's Hadrian, it's all he can think. He can't move. His feet won't let him move because he never expected to see his partner, see the only person he could ever really call family, twisted and melted all together like this, in pain and shrieking it out at him. Royce can't move because it's almost like he feels like it's right. Like this should happen.

And of course, it doesn't. Because Tifa won't let it.

He's always known she's strong. Strong enough to practically toss him out of the way, to get him out of the path. But he knows in the split second it takes for her to move him, he knows in this sickening, dreadful way that the sword meant for him is going to slide right through her. And it does. It does, he watches it happen, and as she drops, Royce bellows, roars like he never has before: ] TIFA --

[ She drops, and Royce moves, immediately. He doesn't have time to think now, all that matters is picking her up and getting her safe. He leaps to her side and picks her up, scoops easily from the adrenaline, and runs, races to the closest house he can find. Doesn't matter how far, just as long as he gets there. The monster (not Hadrian, not Hadrian) screeches behind him and makes to follow, but it's distracted by the blood. Just enough for Royce to slam the metal door behind him, lock it and drop to the floor, holding Tifa up.

Not-Hadrian screams, bangs heavily at the door, but it doesn't budge. Royce ignores it, trying to get into his pack, assess the damage, he can - he can fix this, he can, it's okay. ]

Hey. Hey, look at me. You're okay. Tifa, look at me. [ Royce says hoarsely, trying not to shake her too badly. ]

Edited 2016-06-01 23:47 (UTC)

[He sets her down and she tries to stay quiet, because she doesn't want to make this worse for him, but it doesn't matter how gentle he's trying to be. It hurts, and she can't hold back a strangled cry.

She already knows she's dying. She knows what it feels like, and she's not going to kid herself. This isn't survivable, wouldn't be survivable even if Royce knew how to fix it, and her breathing is already turning shallow and erratic. Her blood has soaked clear through the thick fabric of her jacket, and it's starting to drip to the floor. She recognizes distantly that there's too much of it, and she wants to tell him to stop trying. He can't watch her die, she knows what that will do to him, but she's terrified, too. A selfish part of her doesn't want him to leave.]

I'm sorry, Royce, I—

[She chokes on something like a sob and then swallows, each breath trembling. She's not sorry that she pushed him out of the way, she's sorry that she's going to leave him alone, but she doesn't know how to say it. It's hard to focus.]

Don't. [ He warns her, and he means to sound firm but his voice breaks. He knows. He knows he can't fix her. Royce knows intimately what death looks like, knows the smell of copper and the wet feeling of blood on his hands is the sign that she's too far gone. He knows it, but he doesn't want to, and he's stubborn about it, wincing as she cries out. The noise drags tears forcefully up and into his eyes, and he swallows hard, trying desperately to get bandages or - or something...

But it won't do any good. The bandages slip out of his hands anyway, stained red as they roll away, and Royce just lets them go. Forgets about it as he pulls her into his lap, as gently as he can, smoothing her hair back out of her face. He's covered in her blood. It's all over the sweater she found him. It's on his hands that she held the night before, in his hair, the hair she swept her fingers through affectionately as they left the first house of the day. ]

Don't. [ He says again, and this time it sounds like broken pleading. ] Please, don't.

[She bites back another apology, pressing one hand to her stomach instinctively. It doesn't do anything. The blood just seeps through her fingers and into his sweater. Even the smallest movement is agony, but she forces herself to shift, reaching up to push the hair out of his face. Her fingers leave a fresh smear of blood as they brush across his cheek. She's desperate to figure out a way to make this easier on him, to not think about the fact that she isn't going to come back and he's going to be the only one left. She promised him, and she broke it.

Her vision blurs and she blinks rapidly, trying not to let him see her crying, but the tears cut tracks through the smudges of blood he's left on her face.]

Find a way home, okay? You have to.

[She forces the words out. Her voice is shaky and unsteady, and she's getting horrifically dizzy, but she needs him to try. He can't give up.]

I don't - I don't... I don't have anything -- [ He chokes out, tears spilling down his cheeks. There's nothing for him to go home to. Hadrian is dead, gone and there was nothing else, left back home. He was okay here, because he had her.

Even now, she's trying to make it easier on him. He knows it. She pushes the hair out of his face and his expression twists, his own tears streaking through the blood. There's no stopping it. It's been a long, long time since he's felt anything like this, anything this agonizing, it hurts so bad he feels like he's been run through.

He's going to be alone. That never used to bother him.

Royce pulls her close, so, so gently. Presses a kiss to her forehead, and takes her hand, linking their fingers together, pulling their entwined hands up to his lips. She's going to be gone. She'll be cold. They'll take her body away and he'll be here, and one day - one day, he'll see her again, only she'll be like Hadrian, twisted and terrible and in pain, chasing him down and ripping him to shreds.

He pulls her fully into his lap, arms wrapped around her snugly. Rests his head against hers. He won't leave her alone. Whispered, shaking: ] I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you didn't... you didn't deserve this, I'm sorry.

[Her breathing is too shallow, too desperate, and she shudders against him. There has to be something for him at home. Anything is better than this, but she can't find the words to tell him so. It isn't his fault. He has to know that, right? Even this was worth it to keep him safe.

She wants to make it better, wants to find the magic words that will make it easier, but every thought feels distant, strangely half-formed. Her eyes drift closed. It seems like far too much effort to keep them open, and her hand slips from his cheek. She lets out one last, trembling breath, and doesn't move again.]

[ It's his fault. He should've moved. He should've taken the blow. It was Hadrian who killed her. It was Royce's responsibility to take care of it. But he didn't, and Tifa's hand hits the floor with a dull thud, and Royce can't breathe. Feels like panic, feels like being strangled, feels like - feels like there's something in him that dies with her, and Royce quietly smothers it all down. He can't handle pain like this - he learned, a long time ago, to shut it all off, to retreat.

Royce doesn't care about the blood. She doesn't feel it anymore, either. It's okay. He can carefully pick her up again and take her to the couch, wrap her in her blanket. If not for the bloodstain, she'd look like she was sleeping. His breath stutters and catches at the sight, at the knowledge that she isn't, and for a good, long minute, he just trembles, holding the arm of the couch with white knuckles, struggling to breathe. He's alone, he's alone, it's overwhelming and lonely and it seizes his lungs in a vice, he's so damn dizzy that he has to drop to his knees to try and get ahold of himself.

He curls up on the floor. Back against the couch, sitting up with his legs pulled to his chest, hands tangled in his own hair, Royce cries. He cries until he's weak, until his head hurts and he's exhausted, until all he can do is drag himself up onto the couch to hide his face in her hair. She's cold, and it nearly sends him right back into the middle of a panic attack. He's cold, and he holds his breath until he's dizzy, shivering, tears leaking down his cheeks.

When he wakes up, she's gone. The blanket is still there. Royce doesn't leave the house. He curls up on the couch, clothes ruined, and wraps himself in her blanket. ]

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snowblind style angst

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FLURRY ARE YOU OK

NO I'M ALREADY EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED

UGH YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE

just as planned

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