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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[ He murmurs something quiet, and shuts his tablet off. Has to be able to concentrate, and he can't, not with her hurt and weak smile in his mind. He wants nothing more than to comfort her somehow (the best he can, which he knows isn't much) but he has to make sure.

He takes his things and makes it there. It doesn't take long. He gets there first, and sits on the front porch in the cold, knife in his lap. Not that he could hurt an anomaly if it tried to come at him, but it makes him feel better.

Royce curls up, his hair pulled back the best he can when it's crunchy with dried blood. He waits, watching the snow with what's probably a familiar, brooding look. ]

[Tifa takes a little longer, but she gets there. That look is familiar to her, and she hates seeing it almost as much as she hates seeing the blood on his face. Visibility isn't terrible, so she knows he saw her coming, but she halts a few feet from the porch anyway, not approaching him. She doesn't want to make him more uncomfortable when he's already keyed up like this.]

Hi.

[ It's so hard, because she looks... fine. It looks like her.

His expression is already wavering by the time she stops, emotion he can't control welling up in his chest. He pulls himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the door, knife in hand. There's a long moment of just... searching, and then he moves. Walks down the steps of the porch, and stops in front of her.

He's not sure if he's trembling or shivering. Probably both. ]

... Hi. [ If she's going to hurt him, now would be the time, Royce thinks. He doesn't think he cares if she does or not. ]

[He has a knife. She didn't see it before, and it doesn't surprise her, but it makes her chest ache. All she wants to do is reach for him, to figure out a way to get him to stop shaking, but she doesn't. She hesitantly offers him her hand instead, eyes searching his face.]

It's just me.

[ He hesitates.

And then he backs away, shaking his head a little. ] ... Inside. Come inside. [ He can't help it. He knows he's going to hurt her if it is really her, but surely she knows he has to do this. He has to make sure. Tifa told him to keep trying. If it's a trap and he walks right into it, he's not trying hard enough.

Royce slowly backs up the porch, and into the house, knife still at the ready. He waits for her to follow. ]

[Hurt registers on her face for just a moment before she looks down and nods. She keeps telling herself that it makes sense for him to be this uncertain, because it does. What doesn't make sense is that fact that she's back when no one else is.

Tifa follows him into the house, taking a few steps inside and then just... waiting.]

What do you want me to do?

I don't know. [ And that's frustrating, because he feels like he should. He always has a contingency plan, but he's so overwhelmed that it's hard to think straight. If she really is back, there's nothing he can do to prove it. All the secrets he might have told her, Admin would have known. Not... not that they've seen any sort of response from Admin in a long time.

Something brought her back, though. Impossibly, something brought her back. ]

... Answer questions. [ Not just one, a few. Ones he knows she'll know. He can't be sure it's her, but even a computer can't completely mimic a person. The way she says it, the way she answers, he thinks... he thinks that can be good enough. And sure, maybe his voice breaks a little when he asks, but he's tired. ] What is Hadrian to me?

[She wraps her arms around herself, biting her lip. There's no good way to prove herself to him, so she'll just have to trust that he'll find whatever he's looking for in her answers.]

Your best friend. You were partners. You've known each other for a long time.

[How in depth should she get here?]

[ That's a good start. Plus, it hurts to hear - makes him feel good, in a way, like the twist at him is punishment enough for letting her die for him. ] I gave you something. A long time ago. After you died. What was it?

[Tifa bites her lip, then smiles, small and hesitant.]

A little stuffed owl. It was brown.

[ One more. ] Do you remember the dream I had? Two years ago.

[She nods again. Kind of hard to forget when he was so angry that she was in his dream at all.]

It was about Manzant, and I couldn't really talk to you because... We were all having strange dreams and there were side effects. I had to use your voice and you hated it.

[ Maybe he shouldn't, but he does anyway. He shouldn't trust this, but he does. His shoulders ease, and he lowers the knife, slowly, before just dropping it entirely. It thuds into the floor, and Royce reaches to rub at his face with both hands, feeling weak. ]

How did you come back? [ He's not expecting an answer from this one, and that might be clear from his tone. ] Nobody else came back.

I don't know. I don't—

[Her voice breaks and she swallows. It hurts, seeing him like this, and she reaches for him carefully, brushing her fingers against his arm.]

I'm so sorry, Royce.

[ It's okay. He's about two seconds from reaching for her anyway. She beats him to it, and he just sinks into it, into her, slipping his arms around her waist and closing his eyes, burying his face in her shoulder. ]

Don't. [ He mutters, holding her tightly. ] Don't, you don't have to.

[She rests her chin on his shoulder and hugs him tight, one hand gripping tightly at the back of his sweater as the other smooths his hair down. Parts are still stiff with blood, and she feels an ache starting at the back of her throat. She can't cry, not when he's been such a mess.]

I know, I just... [She doesn't even know what she's trying to say, but her voice is trembling.] I promised I wouldn't leave you.

[ He's still shaking, but this makes it easier to stop. She's warm, solid - here, right here, after everything. Royce doesn't know how it happened, but he's finding he doesn't much care. Even if it isn't her, if this is an elaborate trick... he doesn't care.

Royce pulls her close, sliding his hand up to rest on the back of her neck. HE rocks them back and forth a little. ] Looks like you didn't.

[Tifa lets out a weak little laugh, just letting herself cling to him.]

I guess not.

[She turns her head, pressing a kiss to his hair, not really caring about how dirty it is. She doesn't let herself think about the fact that it's her blood.]

Are you okay?

Fine. [ He murmurs, easing into her grip. His thumb strokes gently over her skin across the back of her neck, face still hidden. His voice is muffled as a result. ] You?

Better.

[She pulls back a little, arms still wrapped tightly around him. She just wants to see his face for a second.]

Royce?

[ He lets her look, not even bothering to try and hide anything. Dark circles, blood still smudged and dried across his face. ]

Tifa. [ He says in response, softer. ]

[She tries to rub away a bit of the blood on his cheek with her thumb and has very little success. The concern is plain on her features, but when isn't it? It doesn't even look like he's slept.]

We should get you cleaned up.

[ He didn't. He was up all night, trading back and forth between crying and staring at the ceiling with a dead expression - but Tifa doesn't need to know the specifics. ]

Mm. [ And then, because he's adjusting: ] Thought I'd spend another week covered in -- blood.

[ Just blood. Not your blood. It's meant to be a joke. ]

[It... kind of falls flat, but she gets what he's going for, so she leans forward to kiss him softly.]

It's harder to appreciate how handsome you are when you're all bloody.

[ Don't compliment him, he gets all flustered! How does he respond to that!! Royce laughs a little, shaky and unsure. ]

Maybe we should find you some glasses. [ But he doesn't argue. ] ... I still have scissors. Might cut my hair.

[ Might ask her to do it. ]

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