Final Fantasy 7R Multimuse [mainblog: strangerrebelled] !!CONTAINS SPOILERS!! - primarily survives!AUs, where applicable - please read Rules - muses & mun 21+, open to NSFT - AU, crossover, & OC friendly DON'T REBLOG MY RP POSTS IF YOU'RE NOT PART OF THEM.
This is an independent roleplay (RP) multimuse sideblog, for characters from Final Fantasy 7 - mostly from the games Remake & Rebirth , but also from Advent Children .
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ABOUT : Roche
ABOUT : Andrea Rhodea
ABOUT : Biggs
ABOUT : Loz
ABOUT : Cid Highwind
THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE GAMES & THE MOVIE.
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It was a most beautiful evening; the stars were twinkling above, the evening had become more quiet, and many of the rides were free after midnight. It was the perfect couples night.
And much to Vincent's chagrin, he had been selected for a blind date, courtesy of Dio. But he had been promised it would only be for one night and that he didn't want to disappoint the other selectee. There was only one caveat-- Vincent wasn't allowed to wear his cape. Was told it looked too intimidating and hiding his face wasn't appropriate for a date. Vincent allowed the removal of his cloak, but stubbornly refused to part with his gauntlet, declining to give a reason other than a threatening glare.
The time arrived, and Vincent sat alone in a dining hall next to a large open window. It was tucked in a corner, candles lit, a white cloth draped over the table, and a couple of wine glasses placed at the center. One was already filled with wine, its neck gripped by slender leather-covered fingers. With his legs crossed, Vincent trained his eyes to the outside, his mind wandering to someplace dark; however, he was ever keen to the footsteps of one approaching.
Cid shrugged, his expression at ease and on the verge of delighted to see Vincent comfortable enough to joke with him in this situation. Besides, comparatively, it was true that Vincent was pickier - it was just for better reasons than folk usually had.
His trust was, once again, rewarded. Beef and stew sounded perfect, probably one of the few less-pretentious foods on offer.
Unsure whether the waiter's quiet questions were meant to be polite or pushy or both, Cid managed a short, "Uh..." before a second server appeared. The unasked-for appetizers - maybe complimentary for this place? he didn't know - helped make up his mind.
"Prob'ly just a dessert later, yeah. Thanks."
He let out a quiet sigh once the waiters were gone. Cid didn't put any blame on them, it just reminded him the attentiveness that seemed expected of fancy restaurant staff could be a mite overwhelming. Even so, he did muster another 'thanks' when they were each left drinks before a second prompt departure.
Cid turned his curious stare onto the unexpected dumplings in front of them. Even better than not having ten different pieces of silverware to remember, they seemed to be finger food. Cid wasn't enough of a foodie type to guess at seasonings; he only knew they smelled delicious.
Just as he glanced up to check what Vincent thought of them, blue eyes widened at the offer of a dipped dumpling between slim, pretty, deceptively strong fingers. Cid tried to cover for his resurfaced blush with another light laugh.
"Alright, I'll be yer taste-tester. Oop, shoot..."
He cupped a hand below the dumpling before a drop of sauce could reach the tablecloth. Fingertips brushed Vincent's palm, then lingered while Cid leaned in to take the other's offering in one bite, gaze lowered.
Fortunately, they weren't too hot, so he could taste everything inside. His expression lit up in pleased surprise, echoed by the sound that escaped his throat while his hand belatedly fell away.
"Prick my ass 'n call me a cactuar, that's better than I thought. Here." Cid took up a dumpling in return, dipping it into the golden sauce before holding it out to Vincent with a grin. "Wanna try? Got some good spices in there, but nothin' that'll make ya sweat."
Cid couldn't proper recall the last time he'd had a stopover long enough for relaxation, especially not since meeting Aerith and the whole merry band of misfits.
But now here they were in Costa del Sol, probably the world's hottest vacation destination, with free time on their hands. The others were just as eager to take advantage, splitting off in pairs or trios until Cid was left standing near the docks with only Vincent. Not company he much minded, truth be told, though a place like this didn't seem the other man's speed.
Still, Cid wanted to enjoy as much as possible while they were here. And besides, from what he'd seen, Vincent could use some loosening up.
"Looks like it's you 'n me." He patted the other's shoulder, then dropped his hand to Vincent's elbow for a coaxing tug, his grin broad and a little lopsided. "C'mon! If we're gonna be out in the sun, might as well be seein' some sights."
Following along beside Vincent, Cid couldn't help his mild surprise that the other took initiative in speaking to the mayor. Sure, the guy could be pretty bold when the situation called, but Cid hadn't thought that would extend to talking with strangers. All the more reason he kept quiet and watched the exchange.
He'd crossed his arms casually at first, but his hands then dropped to his sides when the mayor's demeanor stuttered and shifted. Cid cast a more suspicious glance between the man and the necklace; should Vincent be holding it? Sure, the gunslinger didn't seem affected like the mayor was, but still...
Adjusting his goggles a bit after Vincent turned to him, Cid hummed, "Guess so. Can't figure what coulda spooked him like that, though."
He watched Vincent tuck the necklace away, gaze lingering for a few reasons afterward. For one, he was glad he'd be here in case the thing proved dangerous.
Damn well better not be. We could use some relaxation without everything goin' to shit.
Still, Cid was tugged fully into the present moment by Vincent passing so near a breath would've brushed their skin together. A chuckle helped him put the rest of his concerns aside for now.
"We both know I ain't lookin' classy enough t'be a butler, 'specially yours. But, won't say no to not keepin' all this on my shoulder the whole time."
The beach lockers weren't too far back the way they'd come. Cid kept his wallet on him, just in case, tucking it into the same pocket as the locker's key.
"C'mon," he grinned to Vincent. "We're just gettin' started!"
Despite his clear anticipation, Cid's smile already looked contented while he meandered down the boardwalk at Vincent's side. A bit of that peace was interrupted, though not too harshly, when a wealthy boy on a segway and his attendants made a path through the crowd. Cid let out a quiet 'tsk' and a huff, coaxing Vincent out of the way by one shoulder, but soon recovered his smile at a slant.
"See, those 're butlers. I ever start actin' like that, ya know I've been possessed."
A glance across the way, and he had an idea for their first stop. Cid lightly patted Vincent's upper back, before letting his hand fall away as he tipped his head aside in invitation.
The stop in question was a bookstore, boasting a wide variety of 'beach reads'. Maybe not the first place Cid would've normally thought to go, but he figured it'd have a quieter atmosphere that Vincent would appreciate.
And indeed, after they entered with a chime of the door, the chatter and bustle outside were subdued. Soft guitar music was playing over the speakers, and there were just enough folks conversing inside to keep it from feeling too stuffy.
"What kinda books ya go for? Dunno how much they have, but we can check."
[Roleplay Starter]
Andrea Rhodea + Vincent Valentine
RP Partner: @fromthe7thsidelines
The Gold Saucer-- a monolith of grandiosity, hedonism and escapism. It was exactly what Dio had envisioned twenty some years ago. Vincent could recall the brawny eccentric, then much younger, begging President Shinra for a chance to create a massive entertainment business. Now, the place was clamoring with customers, all eager to dish every gil they had in the name of temporary amusement. And then there were those who were earning said gil; employees of Shinra who worked to dazzle every customer-- all except a certain apathetic Ex-Turk.
Vincent had never met Don Corneo in person, but he knew a bastard when he saw one. Judging by what Tifa, Aerith, and Cloud had told him, he was not to be under-estimated, no matter how much of an idiot he seemed to be. Street-wise gangster leaders weren't leaders from being fools. They had earned their place through unlawful and cruel means. Cunning was at their core. For a man who was still a Turk at heart and who harbored four demons, tracking the Don and gathering intel wouldn't prove to be too challenging. Word had it that the Don was plotting against AVALANCHE, and Vincent was tasked to do some spy-work.
Evening had arrived, and the nightlife had begun. Most of the group chose to wander off and enjoy themselves while others chose to turn in for the evening. Sleep wasn't necessary for an immortal, and his demons were making him restless. There was a task to do, and he needed to make use of the opportunity. He first had to find someone who might have some knowledge of Corneo's where-abouts.
His gold-colored sabatons clinked as he walked across the granite flooring, scanning the vast area for any Shinra Employee who fit the description of 'entertainer'. Though dressed in a very misplaced Medieval outfit of sorts, no one seemed to even blink when they saw the oddly dressed gunslinger. For all they knew, he was just a worker in a costume. Vincent decided to ask around to see if he could get any leads.
"Pardon," Vincent asked as he walked up to a pair of girls dressed in honey-bee outfits. "I'm told there is a man in Midgar who owns a famous arena in one of the Sector slums," the gunslinger began surreptitiously. "Heard he's looking for recruits. Might you know who this man is?" Vincent knew exactly who he was. However, he had to first see if these women had any knowledge of the Don without creating any suspicions, should they be in collusion with the criminal.
Little did Vincent realize there was someone close by who not only knew Corneo, but was also well versed in Cloud's situation.
Andrea watched the girls be ushered away, and followed after at a measured distance - not too far as to lose them or be unable to intervene, but not too close as to raise suspicion from the lackeys escorting them. He didn't know whether Vincent's friends would be held in the same place as the others, but figured this was his best shot of finding out. Still, he was also relieved when he didn't have to follow far, in case Vincent did give some kind of signal in the meantime.
"Evening, gentlemen." A casual wave and an easy, practiced smirk. "I'll handle watching the door here."
"Not necessary, Mr. Rhodea; we've got it covered," one of the men countered, though a couple did readily depart.
Andrea's smirk dropped into nonplussed coolness, one eyebrow raising a little. "Do you? Need I remind you of the wedding night fiasco back home in Wall Market? You boys couldn't keep your eyes or hands to yourself, leaving you wide open to be overtaken and utterly failing Don Corneo."
The other man scowled, but glanced down to one side.
"As I thought. Since I won't be tempted, it makes me a more effective guard, wouldn't you agree?"
After a few moments of muttering among themselves, the other lackeys dispersed. Andrea waited, leaned back beside the door, until footsteps and voices faded and he could only hear muffled conversation among the women instead.
Cracking open the door as silently as possible, Andrea clenched his jaw briefly at how young the girl bragging seemed - a teenager, at his best guess. This bastard... He took a long, calming inhale and glanced around just in case, then opened the door wider.
"And I wouldn't stop you, miss," he replied to the girl's latter claim. "But as for who was chosen, his identity isn't as important as the chance he's given you." His expression sobered further. "Quickly, do any of you know if more girls are being kept in another room? We came to find Vincent Valentine's friends; I didn't realize Corneo had taken so many of you."
Corneo himself was beckoning his first prize of the evening to the broad bed, where red silk rope was already tied to the headboard. Tempting... but equally so to find out what those hands of hers could do, gloves or not. And one so docile wasn't likely to need restraint, though he'd love to be surprised.
"Make yourself comfortable, my dear," the Don insisted with a leering grin, while he fetched a remote from the dresser. He hadn't been able to bring along many of his home cameras, but enough were set up for a few lovely angles.
As Corneo sat beside her, free hand propped behind her rear so their sides and thighs could brush, he couldn't resist. He lifted the small remote a little to ensure a clear signal; the simultaneous snap of shutters came from several points in the room.
"Perfect. Now, how about we start stripping away some of that shyness?" Corneo trailed an index finger up silky fabric to find the hem of one glove and tug it down.
He wasn't sure whether Cloud's glance to his hand had been discomfited or just surprised, but didn't want to push a boundary just to find out. Biggs would rather sit in the quiet between them as long as the other wanted to, interspersed only with near-silent breaths and sips of warm tea.
His eyebrows rose at her insistence, though his expression soon eased and he shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it. You've done good work since you came here, and you're not half-bad to hang out with either," Biggs smirked again, before it broadened into a fuller, softer smile.
"...Way I see it, I just got to know you a little better. That's all."
That wouldn't stop him, of course, from offering them help whenever they seemed to need it - just like he would've done for anyone else, especially the others in their ragtag Avalanche team.
He almost laughs when Biggs tells him he's not bad to hang out with, the smile of amusement showing despite how much he tries to fight it. Not bad company, huh? Cloud would beg to differ. He's awkward and doesn't always know what to say.
"....Thank you." She isn't sure what else to say to this. It is not often she relies on others for help or confides in anyone. Should she leave? Probably but instead she finally sits down to indicate she isn't going anywhere for a while.
"Can I stay here for a little bit? I....I don't want to be alone." Not when that bastard is going to show up again, they are certain of it. It's better to have someone who can ground them in reality nearby
Biggs didn't expect anything more than what Cloud gave him. Even better, he'd only anticipated a 'thanks', not the little smile that came with it. He had understood the other's appeal before, but something about that smile drove home another reason: it made Biggs want to see it again, cause it again, figure out what might make it come out wider next time and really break up some of that weight on Cloud's shoulders.
So when she asked to stay a little longer - and that admission of not wanting to be alone tugged at his heart - Biggs had to restrain himself from wrapping her up in a hug.
Instead, he nodded, his smile lingering. "Of course. Stay as long as you want. I don't have much for guest entertainment, but I'm sure we can figure somethin' out to pass the time."
Biggs watched the subtle ripples of the tea in his mug for a few moments, then met their eyes again as an idea struck.
"Maybe we could swap stories? Doesn't have to be anything heavy; could be stuff like what dumb shit we did as kids, first crushes or kisses, things like that."
For his part, Roche didn't drift off. He did allow himself to relax, lulled by Cloud's subtle warmth and even breaths, to the point his combing fingers gradually slowed to a halt. The beauty of his slumbering love was not only found in long lashes fanned against soft cheeks, in parted pink lips, or in the drape of blond spikes over face and pillow. It was there in the action itself, the trust, the persistent drape of an embracing arm, the lack of tension or distance.
What a gift, what a treasure Cloud was.
A voice from outside the shop door cut through Roche's adoring thoughts. He supposed there was no reason to think it was truly Cloud's assailants —
Until the door opened for two pairs of footsteps trying hard to be silent.
His tender expression sharpened, touch remaining gentle a moment longer as he coaxed Cloud's arm away to stand. Roche didn't have his sword. He wouldn't need it.
He made no effort to quiet his steps, planting himself between the occupied cot and the intruders. His mako-dyed eyes were almost luminous in the deepening shadows of night, unblinking and burning cold as he stared down the pair.
"Are you the ones? You hurt my darling Cloud, for no sensible reason?"
Roche's version of a final warning.
Both of the men freeze as they come face to face with Roche. So much for being silent. One of them glances between the other and Roche, as if he's trying to decide if he should run or fight.
"We have a reason." One of the two men pipe up. "Our boss sent us after him." Rufus Shinra wants Cloud to be taken down, he has for a long time, and well - they didn't think Cloud would be protected.
One of the men suddenly bolts, heading for the door and out of the building, unwilling to deal with Roche.
"Oh come on!" The remaining man exclaims as he takes a step back from Roche but unlike the other, he is unwilling to back down, even when he knows how dangerous Roche. "I'm just doing my job. Step aside, I don't want to have to hurt you."
A reason. Their boss. Useless. Pathetic scrambles for justification, for shifted blame, merely to escape retribution. It might've been amusing, as a mouse's scrambling might amuse a cat, if these pathetic cowards hadn't hurt Cloud.
Ah, one of them even fled - at least that one had sense.
Just. Doing. His job.
Disgusting.
It wasn't even for the thrill of the fight, for the stoked fire of life dancing so close to the cold edge of death. It was unfeeling calculus, 'necessity', so blatantly corporate Roche needn't even guess who this man's boss likely was.
Still, he couldn't help a low laugh bubbling in his throat.
"You? Hurt me?"
Roche vanished into a blur marked only by the flash of his eyes and the flick of his hair. His hand snatched the cretin's neck, lifting the latter's feet from the floor, fingers closing like an inexorable vice.
"Your comrade was wise to run."
Only after he felt the man's windpipe crumple in his grip, after scrabbling hands and kicking feet grew still, after eyes rolled back and desperate wheezes petered out, did Roche move. He bent to pick up the pair's dropped knives, then hauled the coward's body out of his shop by the crushed throat. First the body, then the knives were dropped unceremoniously a few long strides from his front door.
A slight headache twinged at Roche's temples, but it was easily ignored in favor of returning to Cloud's side.
He shut the door as quietly as he could, crossing the shop to settle onto the cot again. Draping an arm over his love, Roche promised in a scarcely-audible whisper to the other's sleeping face: "Petty thieves or Shinra himself, no harm upon you will go unpunished. I am your hound, my darling. Yours, and yours alone."
Roche's brow and nose brushed Cloud's, and his eyes fell shut to catch some rest.
Biggs didn't begrudge a little surprise and suspicion from Cloud. Even regular fighters who hadn't been souped up like SOLDIERs could feel alone in their experiences, despite the general concept of reliving trauma being unfortunately common.
His own, for instance, hadn't latched onto one person in particular - but considering what Biggs had heard about all that, it didn't shock him nor make him second-guess. Cloud had to have been pretty young when it happened; add onto that years of keeping it quiet and a body full of mako, and almost anything could happen.
All the more reason Biggs meant every word.
He let the silence stretch while Cloud worked out what to say. Man, how long had she been left wondering about her sanity without anyone to insist otherwise? The mere idea needled in Biggs' chest, which another sip of tea didn't entirely alleviate.
Cloud's bluntness tugged a short, quiet laugh from Biggs, somewhere between sheepish and humored. He thought he caught a flash of apology or worry in their expression, and reached for a light and gentle squeeze of their shoulder.
Leaning his hip against the edge of his desk after his hand returned to his mug, he assured, "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you did. ...And don't worry; I won't tell anyone else, promise."
The cup of tea provides a great way to hide his face on occasion as he lifts it to take a sip. He wants to turn around and run away, but at the same time, it's nice to finally have someone to talk to about something he's kept quiet about for so long.
She glances down at the hand on her shoulder but it's gone as quick as he had touched her. She looks back to his face, silence overcoming her once more. She believes him. Something about Biggs just seems so trustworthy.
"Good. And don't treat me differently, either." They may have headaches and are seeing things from time to time but they've been dealing with this for this long without telling anyone, they don't need to be treated with kid gloves.
He wasn't sure whether Cloud's glance to his hand had been discomfited or just surprised, but didn't want to push a boundary just to find out. Biggs would rather sit in the quiet between them as long as the other wanted to, interspersed only with near-silent breaths and sips of warm tea.
His eyebrows rose at her insistence, though his expression soon eased and he shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it. You've done good work since you came here, and you're not half-bad to hang out with either," Biggs smirked again, before it broadened into a fuller, softer smile.
"...Way I see it, I just got to know you a little better. That's all."
That wouldn't stop him, of course, from offering them help whenever they seemed to need it - just like he would've done for anyone else, especially the others in their ragtag Avalanche team.
Roche could almost pinpoint the moment his dearest Cloud decided to agree, even before that quiet sigh. Every time, still, he coveted each instance of accepting some facet of him, some want he had - not because he thought his love lacked the capacity, but because of its precious source.
And every time, such tender requests from Cloud made Roche's heart stutter like a half-frozen engine.
His smile emerged, adoring and gentler than he showed to anyone else, and he tipped his chin up to kiss her brow. Though that was half his answer in itself, Roche had no desire to leave her guessing. Not with this.
"Always, my darling."
It took some careful arranging and a bit of adjusting, but Roche soon settled in beside Cloud. One arm was tucked under his head, while his other combed fingers through their hair, blunt nails skimming over scalp in repeated slow arcs he hoped would soothe.
"I've got you, Cloud," Roche murmured low. He leaned in long enough to kiss their cheek, then their lips, longer yet still light. "Rest. I'm not going anywhere."
Not unless those who'd harmed his beloved truly did come searching.
Cloud rolls over onto his side so that he can wrap an arm around Roche and curl into his side, taking comfort in the fingers through his hair and Roche's body warmth.
It isn't long before Cloud is fast asleep, the injuries having put her body through a strain big enough to make sleep an inevitability.
For the first thirty minutes, there is nothing but the sound of Cloud's steady breathing as they sleep against Roche but then, there's a sound outside.
A couple of sounds. Shuffling of people outside, the hushed talking from one man followed by the other speaking a little too loud.
"Shut up, you idiot!" One of the men hisses at the other as they draw their weapons, intent on making their way inside to finish the job that they had started. Cloud is an ex-SOLDIER, a traitor, and he must be dealt with.
One of them creeps inside the shop first, the other close behind. Clearly, they're only expecting Cloud to be here at this hour.
For his part, Roche didn't drift off. He did allow himself to relax, lulled by Cloud's subtle warmth and even breaths, to the point his combing fingers gradually slowed to a halt. The beauty of his slumbering love was not only found in long lashes fanned against soft cheeks, in parted pink lips, or in the drape of blond spikes over face and pillow. It was there in the action itself, the trust, the persistent drape of an embracing arm, the lack of tension or distance.
What a gift, what a treasure Cloud was.
A voice from outside the shop door cut through Roche's adoring thoughts. He supposed there was no reason to think it was truly Cloud's assailants —
Until the door opened for two pairs of footsteps trying hard to be silent.
His tender expression sharpened, touch remaining gentle a moment longer as he coaxed Cloud's arm away to stand. Roche didn't have his sword. He wouldn't need it.
He made no effort to quiet his steps, planting himself between the occupied cot and the intruders. His mako-dyed eyes were almost luminous in the deepening shadows of night, unblinking and burning cold as he stared down the pair.
"Are you the ones? You hurt my darling Cloud, for no sensible reason?"
Roche's version of a final warning.
Even before the kettle, Biggs didn't seek to meet Cloud's eyes again once the latter looked away. Admitting something that raw and painful was already a rare thing for most people, and must be doubly so for someone so closed off about so much. In a way he wouldn't voice, Biggs felt honored that Cloud had trusted him with it.
Instead, he just watched those mental wheels turn, until the boiling water pulled his attention away.
Cloud had looked half-ready to bolt by then, though, so it was a quiet relief when Biggs didn't hear any steps making for the door. Even if it was just politeness that kept her here, he appreciated the company regardless.
So when they added onto their admission, Biggs narrowly avoided fumbling as he set aside the mostly-empty kettle. He mulled on what Cloud said, while stirring a spoonful of honey into each mug of darkening tea.
Honestly, given what Biggs had just learned, it didn't sound insane at all. It sounded like trauma - the kind he dealt with himself, and the kind he'd helped others with as well - though he did wonder whether it hit a SOLDIER harder. Especially since both Cloud and Sephiroth had mako in their veins. Either way, Biggs still gently shook his head as he took up both drinks.
"Not at all." He handed one steaming mug to Cloud, then backed up a couple steps to hold his own in both hands. His smile was gentle, yet brittle. "On my worst days, I see things in the corner of my eye. I hear things from years ago instead of an active conversation, maybe smell smoke or blood that isn't there." As Biggs went on, his smile had faded. "Sometimes I'm dumped back into the shittiest days of my life, and I gotta be pulled out."
He glanced down, dipping his teabag a few more times just for something to do.
"Maybe that's not exactly what you've got goin' on, or maybe it is. But I can tell you this much." Biggs blew on his tea, earnest hazel eyes once more fixed on Cloud's face past dark lashes. "I will never call you crazy." A careful, measured sip. "And you ever need someone to drown him out, I'll always try."
It surprises him when Biggs tells him that it's not insane at all. He snaps his gaze back to Biggs and he narrows his eyes at him in suspicion. Is he just trying to humor him or does he really mean that he doesn't sound insane?
Either way, Cloud reaches forward to carefully take the mug from Biggs. The warmth against her palms is a sort of comfort and as Biggs explains, Cloud's expression softens, that initial suspicion she had fading away fairly quickly.
"It's not memories. At least, not exactly. I smell the smoke but.....it's like he's here with me. I can't tell what is real and what isn't when it happens." But no one else can see him so obviously, they have to be insane, right? What other explanation is there, really? Maybe the mako in their veins has something to do with this.
Carefully he brings the tea cup to his mouth to take a sip. He's never been too much of a tea drinker but it tastes good and the honey is soothing in a way. "I...." He doesn't know what to say.
It feels good to get this off her chest, at least. "Thank you. I don't want to worry any of the others with this. I'm not even sure why I told you." She almost winces when she realizes she's being incredibly blunt again, bordering on rude.
Biggs didn't begrudge a little surprise and suspicion from Cloud. Even regular fighters who hadn't been souped up like SOLDIERs could feel alone in their experiences, despite the general concept of reliving trauma being unfortunately common.
His own, for instance, hadn't latched onto one person in particular - but considering what Biggs had heard about all that, it didn't shock him nor make him second-guess. Cloud had to have been pretty young when it happened; add onto that years of keeping it quiet and a body full of mako, and almost anything could happen.
All the more reason Biggs meant every word.
He let the silence stretch while Cloud worked out what to say. Man, how long had she been left wondering about her sanity without anyone to insist otherwise? The mere idea needled in Biggs' chest, which another sip of tea didn't entirely alleviate.
Cloud's bluntness tugged a short, quiet laugh from Biggs, somewhere between sheepish and humored. He thought he caught a flash of apology or worry in their expression, and reached for a light and gentle squeeze of their shoulder.
Leaning his hip against the edge of his desk after his hand returned to his mug, he assured, "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you did. ...And don't worry; I won't tell anyone else, promise."
[Roleplay Starter]
Andrea Rhodea + Vincent Valentine
RP Partner: @fromthe7thsidelines
The Gold Saucer-- a monolith of grandiosity, hedonism and escapism. It was exactly what Dio had envisioned twenty some years ago. Vincent could recall the brawny eccentric, then much younger, begging President Shinra for a chance to create a massive entertainment business. Now, the place was clamoring with customers, all eager to dish every gil they had in the name of temporary amusement. And then there were those who were earning said gil; employees of Shinra who worked to dazzle every customer-- all except a certain apathetic Ex-Turk.
Vincent had never met Don Corneo in person, but he knew a bastard when he saw one. Judging by what Tifa, Aerith, and Cloud had told him, he was not to be under-estimated, no matter how much of an idiot he seemed to be. Street-wise gangster leaders weren't leaders from being fools. They had earned their place through unlawful and cruel means. Cunning was at their core. For a man who was still a Turk at heart and who harbored four demons, tracking the Don and gathering intel wouldn't prove to be too challenging. Word had it that the Don was plotting against AVALANCHE, and Vincent was tasked to do some spy-work.
Evening had arrived, and the nightlife had begun. Most of the group chose to wander off and enjoy themselves while others chose to turn in for the evening. Sleep wasn't necessary for an immortal, and his demons were making him restless. There was a task to do, and he needed to make use of the opportunity. He first had to find someone who might have some knowledge of Corneo's where-abouts.
His gold-colored sabatons clinked as he walked across the granite flooring, scanning the vast area for any Shinra Employee who fit the description of 'entertainer'. Though dressed in a very misplaced Medieval outfit of sorts, no one seemed to even blink when they saw the oddly dressed gunslinger. For all they knew, he was just a worker in a costume. Vincent decided to ask around to see if he could get any leads.
"Pardon," Vincent asked as he walked up to a pair of girls dressed in honey-bee outfits. "I'm told there is a man in Midgar who owns a famous arena in one of the Sector slums," the gunslinger began surreptitiously. "Heard he's looking for recruits. Might you know who this man is?" Vincent knew exactly who he was. However, he had to first see if these women had any knowledge of the Don without creating any suspicions, should they be in collusion with the criminal.
Little did Vincent realize there was someone close by who not only knew Corneo, but was also well versed in Cloud's situation.
'Too good'. The description made Andrea chuckle, though it wasn't a surprise. He prided himself on his well-trained eye for what colors and makeup techniques would best suit a person's face shape and general demeanor. Particularly fair skin like Vincent's could present a bit of a challenge in balancing those colors to blend in more naturally without disappearing - but, Andrea's years of practice on all manner of complexions paid off.
He noticed that careful brush of fingers over soft black hair - it truly had been a challenge not to play around with it longer - and watched Vincent through the mirror with a small, warm smile. Andrea didn't expect this to culminate in any grand personal breakthrough, but he did hope the other man at least felt as lovely as he looked, and that such a feeling wasn't rejected out of hand.
Still, Andrea didn't resist Vincent's sudden turn away from the mirror either. The way the other fidgeted with arm placement caught his attention, especially when they were crossed over Vincent's chest. Andrea reached to coax the gunslinger's arms down with gentle holds on each wrist.
"It won't do to hide what'll help sell the illusion, my dear Vincent. But I admit, we don't have the time I'd prefer to teach many basics of feminine posture... Hm."
Only a moment of mulling passed before an idea struck.
"Ah! Of course. Here, pardon my handling, but..." Andrea trailed off as he turned to stand beside Vincent, carefully linking their arms so the man's gloved claws would drape near his wrist. "This should help. Now you can keep your other arm down at your side without it looking stiff. The dress' skirts will accent your hip sway already, so just remember to shorten your stride a little."
His expression sobered for a few moments.
"I'm afraid that's as much time as I dare spend. Come; it isn't too far."
After helping Vincent out the door of the dressing room, Andrea made use of the approach to help the other man get accustomed to the disguise. They passed only a scant few pedestrians on the way, and those who did look twice had only appreciative flushed glances for Vincent.
As they neared the private, technically-off-property suites, Andrea spotted a group of Corneo's men near the entryway. With a sidelong look to Vincent, he assured in a whisper, "You're doing wonderfully. You won't have to speak, just try to keep your eyes down; I'll tell them you're shy."
All six of them indeed seemed taken in by Vincent's disguise, though a few were openly salacious in their stares. Still, they bought his excuse of Vincent's shy silence, and of visiting to 'ensure there's no bad blood'. The lie tasted acrid, yet his act never faltered.
Armed with directions to Corneo's suite, and out of sight of the guards, Andrea let his pace quicken. Small mercy, the room was on the ground floor - and he knew from Dio that there was no usable basement or hidden rooms.
Even so, he kept his voice to a whisper, more intense this time. "He can't use any of his traps here. I know you've the experience to assess things once you're in. I'll stay by the door, keep the girls safe."
Andrea slowed, then stopped in front of the corner suite's door and let go of Vincent's arm at last, turning to rest his hands at the other's elbows. Grey eyes burned sharp as they met mismatched crimson.
"Good luck."
With that, he opened the suite door and led Vincent in by the hand. One last veneer of falsehood, to hopefully catch Corneo by surprise.
And indeed, the Don didn't seem to catch on at first. He broke away from his leering at the young women already lined up before him, as he tried to reassure two of them about the other pair's bindings. A flash of irritation melted into a lecherous grin upon seeing the tall, dark-haired beauty, and Corneo hurried over to beckon.
"Well! Aren't you the perfect treat to cap off my evening? A shame Dio can't change my mind about this place, though you do make it tempting. Come in, I was just about to decide who has the privilege of going first!"
With Andrea gently clasping Vincent's wrists, the gunslinger tensed only for a moment. Andrea was being sincere. Years of confinement and self deprecation had taken a toll on Vincent's self image. Even if Andrea didn't know what all Vincent had become, or what he had gone through, there was not a judgmental bone in the mans' body. A rare individual... and a breath of fresh air.
@fromthe7thsidelines
Vincent gave in and loosened, allowing Andrea to take one in his grip, taking on the role of a bride escort. With a short acknowledging nod, Vincent followed Andrea's instructions in an attempt to channel any feminine attributes inside him. He had to internalize a grimace and blush as he swayed his hips, the dress hugging his form while the material flowed around his legs. He was both surprised and concerned with how the heels made his hip sway feel more natural. Such promiscuity... but that was precisely what he had to sell.
Vincent kept a straight face as they passed through the strangers, feeling the eyes staring from different angles. There was no sign of discomfort in the gunslinger, save for his hand that slowly curled into a fist at his side. But at the very least the illusion was selling.
The lackies were on another level of disturbing, sending vague uncomfortable chills up Vincent's back. But he continued to walk with grace, keeping his eyes low, and allowing himself to ease into the feminine persona. With Andrea at his side, it made it much easier for Vincent to tolerate. But he knew Andrea would eventually have to break away to let him to his job in securing the girls.
Once they were out of ear's shot of the guards, Vincent lowered his voice into a whisper.
"I'll need you to prioritize the girls once they've been freed. I'll have to isolate Corneo if at all possible. Just listen for my queue so you'll know when I've secured the girls."
At last, they approached the door, its design bearing testament to Corneo's luxurious taste. Just as Vincent was about to step forward, he felt Andrea gently grip his elbow, making him pause and look over his shoulder, their eyes locking for a moment.
Good luck...
Vincent nodded solemnly. "Likewise." The girls' safety was a high priority, true. But Andrea was just as much in danger of being snuffed out.
With hands clasped, Vincent followed Andrea, casting a glance at the back of Andrea's head as both men walked through the hall way; eventually entering the lion's den where the vermin lay waiting to catch his unsuspecting prey. Speech was now prohibited beyond these large doors, preventing him from saying anything more to Andrea for the time being. But that didn't prevent Vincent from communicating his appreciation with a small squeeze of the hand.
And just as they had expected, there were girls lined up in front of the Don, some looking quite pleased to be there while the others were terrified. Vincent's heart sank a little when he didn't recognize either of the girls, thinking perhaps his friend was one of the girls that had been restrained in another chamber.
There were few truly hideous people in this world outside of Hojo... but Corneo came to a close second. Corneo had sauntered over to analyze the new 'fresh meat' that was presented to him, all wrapped in a pretty black lace. Vincent's stomach churned as Corneo scanned him, setting his jaw on edge.... one of the scummiest perverts he had ever encountered.
But he had a job to do.
Vincent narrowed his eyes at Corneo, remaining silent and wary. Taking on the persona, Vincent feigned a soft grin and lowered his head, resting his hand delicately across his chest as if to 'courtesy' and bowing at his slender waist. But he didn't rise just yet. He took a moment to scan the room, taking in every detail and person that was present. It was a fairly large room and a hall that looked like it would lead to something smaller.... a bedroom, perhaps. He just had to find the basement.
All Andrea could do was wait and listen. He stayed near the door, keeping an eye on the scene without rousing suspicion - even though it made his skin crawl. His most presumptive and scheming customers, at the Honeybee anyway, didn't hold a candle to Don Corneo. Maybe part of that was none of the Honeybee's dancers being concerningly young.
In his mind, Andrea encouraged Vincent's fortitude. Not too long, now. Hold out.
Meanwhile, his own gaze roamed over the room as well, taking stock of every wall and window. He knew Corneo's ego wouldn't abide any other man besides Andrea - deemed 'safe' due to his preferences - within immediate distance of his 'prospects', so there likely wouldn't be many or any other lackeys to contend with.
But were Vincent's friends here, or shut away behind that door at the end of a side hall?
Corneo, meanwhile, let his grin curl wider at this new woman's show of deference. It seemed Rhodea really had learned since the whole mess of a wedding night back in Wall Market, despite the ties that once-traitor also had to Dio.
A willful girl was fun to break, yes, but servitude was its own sweet treat. How far would she go for him? What would she let him do? If he found her breaking point, how fun would it be to push past? Eyes like hers would look even prettier with tears.
"What delightful manners! You know... there is something fun in taking a bribe without taking the deal." The Don swept a hand at the other eagerly awaiting women. "Girls, make yourselves comfortable! Your turns will come. This lovely one will go first."
Bending in a short mock-bow, he offered his hand then to the tall dark-haired woman, looking up at her with a toothy smirk and a lift of his eyebrows.
Andrea subtly bit the inside of his lip, the only reaction he allowed himself to have at this whole scene. Vincent could handle Corneo, obviously, but that didn't make it any easier to watch.
He could apologize after the girls were rescued, and Corneo was either soundly beaten or dead. Andrea would welcome either, at this point.
Cid couldn't proper recall the last time he'd had a stopover long enough for relaxation, especially not since meeting Aerith and the whole merry band of misfits.
But now here they were in Costa del Sol, probably the world's hottest vacation destination, with free time on their hands. The others were just as eager to take advantage, splitting off in pairs or trios until Cid was left standing near the docks with only Vincent. Not company he much minded, truth be told, though a place like this didn't seem the other man's speed.
Still, Cid wanted to enjoy as much as possible while they were here. And besides, from what he'd seen, Vincent could use some loosening up.
"Looks like it's you 'n me." He patted the other's shoulder, then dropped his hand to Vincent's elbow for a coaxing tug, his grin broad and a little lopsided. "C'mon! If we're gonna be out in the sun, might as well be seein' some sights."
Cid had anticipated words, or maybe just silence, in answer to his slightly teasing question. Vincent's response instead seemed to be taking it upon himself to rub the sunscreen in; a small furrow flickered on Cid's brow, the start of a wince at the slight roughness. Damn, Vincent probably hadn't done this for anybody in a good while, or maybe ever.
Before he could remark on it, though, he heard the other man's warning. That quiet growl mixing into the levity snared Cid's breath in his throat until he swallowed hard, an unexpected rush of pleasant heat coloring the tips of his ears. The words and their timbre seemed like invisible yet welcome hands, pinning him in place by the back of his neck and keeping his eyelids decidedly shut.
"Yessir." Cid managed a slanted smile and a quiet chuckle threaded into the word, to hopefully mask how he'd been affected.
Besides, he reasoned to himself, there was no sense in fumbling around the sand with his eyes closed. Better to just stay put 'til the sunscreen had dried.
And probably better not to ask what was what, considering how close their hips were. Or to ask if Vincent's stare was what he felt on his face, tingling his nerves like the faint memory of a caress.
Definitely better not to.
Just as Cid's impatience started to really gnaw at him, Vincent spoke again. No sooner had his eyes opened partway than he got a faceful of towel, leaving him spluttering for half a moment while he caught it. Dabbing away a couple small spots of excess, Cid paused as he once more heard the click of a digital shutter interrupting Vincent.
He lowered the towel quick as he could, but didn't even spot anyone hurrying off.
Still, Cid knew what he'd heard, and his frown stuck around this time. "Barn animals, I'm tellin' ya..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "What is it 'bout beaches that makes folk act a damn fool, ignorin' people's boundaries?"
Speaking of which —
"Oh. Shoot, here, lemme..." Cid finally got to his feet, towel still in one hand, and he offered his other palm to Vincent. His expression eased back into warmth, some of his smile returning, this time with a sheepish tinge. "That's what you were gonna ask, right? Prob'ly almost put yer legs t' sleep, sittin' so long. C'mon; ain't even got much chance to enjoy Costa del Sol yet."
He glanced around them after Vincent got up, draping the towel over one shoulder before picking up their bag.
"Might not wanna risk washin' our sunscreen off in the ocean. How 'bout we walk 'round a little while first, see what else they got to do 'round here?" Cid turned a brighter smile on Vincent once again.
As Vincent's fingers rubbed against Cid's face, Vincent caught the subtle creases on Cid's face when he stifled a grin. He cocked a brow, but thought nothing of it, coincidently shaking his head. He had to admit, Cid had a way of bringing out little sparks of warmth from the otherwise cold Ex-Turk. It was different from the others. Cid was comical without even trying. And the fact that it was just how Cid was added to the charm.
Offered a lift, Vincent only momentarily hesitated this time, caught by the warm smile on Cid's face. One look at Cid's rough hard-worked hands, and Vincent offered him his own more slender pale hand, joining him in a standing position. Fragment by fragment, his walls were slowly being chiseled at, allured by the kindness and persistence of the pilot.
"Right. Being surrounded by a crowd is quite insufferable and exhausting, anyways."
He didn't know which one he hated most; crowds, or the sun.
Vincent didn't care much for the sun and would have much preferred to wait in a shaded area, but he didn't have a heart to pull Cid away from the therapeutic solar beams, either. Because once upon a time, he too used to enjoy the sunshine, basking in the rays of warmth, always welcoming with a smile on his face...
The little nuisance was no where to be seen, but Vincent had a hunch as to who it was. Brushing off the sand from his clothes, he reached to grab their belongings, but Cid had already beaten him to it. Thanks to Shinra and his training as a Turk, he was always in a servitude mindset unless it came to enemies. Thus, it initially surprised Vincent that Cid took up the initiative. He reached his hand out to relieve Cid of the 'burden', but he withheld his hand as Cid walked on towards the beach. The bright smile caught Vincent off guard. He had to internalize a small grin.
Finally, Vincent nodded in approval. "Might as well. Patrol the area while we're at it."
The sand was warm against their feet, getting into their sandals as they crossed the white sandy beach sides. Eventually, the sounds of the crowds were behind them, and only the occasional individual could be seen wandering the beaches, some accompanied by children or dogs. A warm breezed passed by them, gently caressing Vincent's hair and creating soft waves against his loose clothes. The wind was actually quite soothing along the coast line. It brought back many a fond memory from years agone, but Vincent didn't dwell on the memories for long.
They exchanged casual conversations, such as the weather, and discussing their search of Sephiroth. But it was otherwise lighthearted, both silently enjoying each other's company.
Just then, something caught Vincent's eye. Off at a distance, an object was being washed ashore by the waves. It was small and reflected something akin to metal and purple crystal.
"Cid," Vincent gestured towards the objected and approached the item. The closer he got, the more it appeared green and no longer purple as it had from afar. Odd.
Lifting it from the wet sand, a chain of fine gold followed it. It was a necklace with an emerald gem at the center with peculiar metal designs to keep the gem in place; the pendant itself no larger than a quail egg.
Glancing around, it didn't look like anyone around had noticed it, let alone was looking for it.
"Looks like it would cost a fortune. Perhaps we ought to bring it to the mayor of Costa del Sol to see if anyone's missing a necklace."
Cid managed not to laugh at Vincent framing a walk on the beach as 'patrolling the area'. Call him weird, but he found it kinda cute that the other man seemed to insist on being serious, even in times like this. Cute, and also a sign of how Vincent cared, far as Cid could tell. Still, that didn't mean he'd just let the guy be all work and no play.
'Play', for now, was a nice stroll getting sand between their toes, with conversation and company as easy and welcome as the breeze off the waves. He could watch that dark pretty hair sway and catch the sunlight, those two-tone crimson eyes roam from the beach to the ocean to him, those gifted flowers complementing pale skin and likely just as soft.
Yeah, even if Cid wouldn't get to do all the touristy stuff he'd first imagined, this would work just fine.
He noticed the glint a moment after Vincent did. At first, he thought it might be a little piece of a bottle, maybe from some lone sad sack who'd been drinking and thought they wouldn't get caught littering this far from the main beach.
Cid followed after as Vincent approached it. No, it wasn't a bottle fragment, it was... a necklace, with a stone of some kind. The color of its gleam looked different than before; maybe it was one of those fancy gems that caught the light in various colors depending on the angle.
Stopping beside the other, bag over his shoulder and hands on his hips, Cid mused, "Huh; sure does. Yeah, might be best we turn it in. Most don't get work that fine an' not miss it when its gone." A tilt of his head back the way they'd come. "C'mon. He's prob'ly greetin' folks at the docks, heard he does it ev'ry day."
It was a most beautiful evening; the stars were twinkling above, the evening had become more quiet, and many of the rides were free after midnight. It was the perfect couples night.
And much to Vincent's chagrin, he had been selected for a blind date, courtesy of Dio. But he had been promised it would only be for one night and that he didn't want to disappoint the other selectee. There was only one caveat-- Vincent wasn't allowed to wear his cape. Was told it looked too intimidating and hiding his face wasn't appropriate for a date. Vincent allowed the removal of his cloak, but stubbornly refused to part with his gauntlet, declining to give a reason other than a threatening glare.
The time arrived, and Vincent sat alone in a dining hall next to a large open window. It was tucked in a corner, candles lit, a white cloth draped over the table, and a couple of wine glasses placed at the center. One was already filled with wine, its neck gripped by slender leather-covered fingers. With his legs crossed, Vincent trained his eyes to the outside, his mind wandering to someplace dark; however, he was ever keen to the footsteps of one approaching.
When he'd finally gotten to visit the Golden Saucer, the last thing Cid expected was getting picked for some kind of 'blind date' shenanigans. How could it end any way but bad? Folk tended to find him 'too much', even abrasive if they pushed his buttons or he got in his feelings.
Still, Cid was weaker than he liked to admit to Dio's assurances about it only being for one night, and not wanting to disappoint the other person chosen. Even if he thought him turning up would be the bigger disappointment, he reluctantly agreed.
What he liked even less was the loss of his gloves, scarf, and goggles, all wheedled off of him with repeated assurances they'd be returned safely to him after. All well and good, sure, but Cid felt damn near naked without them!
In the end, he'd raised enough mulish protest that by the time he arrived in the dining hall and spotted the table he was supposed to sit at, someone was already there.
A familiar someone.
Cid didn't know if Vincent being his date made him more comfortable or more nervous. Especially with the other man missing that big cloak... sweet hedge pie, how that leather clung.
The closer he got, the more apparent it was Vincent was lost in thought. Probably nowhere good, either.
So, Cid unceremoniously settled into the chair opposite Vincent, hoping his casual grin didn't show his nerves. "Sorry t' keep ya waitin'. They stripped me down too." A lift of his bared hands and forearms to illustrate, before he leaned them on the table. "What're the odds it'd be you 'n me, huh? Guess least we know each other."
Cid...? So Cid was his blind date? Of all the people Dio could choose...
The bastard had a knack for entertaining others, but he also had a guilty pleasure for playing matchmaker.
Vincent's eyes were immediately drawn to the lack of iconic articles that had been snatched from Cid's person. Though the pilot managed to keep a nonchalant demeanor, Vincent could tell he was just as uncomfortable as he was. Whether Dio meant for it or not, he had managed to provide both men a little bit of visual pleasure. Cid's bare arms and hands, and the lack of goggles was enough to soften Cid's appearance. The man was indeed a hard worker... those tendons, veins and toned muscle spoke volumes. Vincent wasn't sure why the removal of goggles made Cid more attractive, but it did. It was then that Vincent had to wonder why the man was intent upon hiding such a well grown hairline. Well... it wasn't like he hadn't done the same thing and was now equally naked on his brow.
A tint of rose crept over his cheeks, but he otherwise remained stoic as ever.
"Suppose it could have been worse," Vincent dryly joked, though in reality he was grateful to see it was Cid. Both seemed to have feelings for one another, and there was a small chance a little bird had told Dio a thing or two.
Leaning forward, he rested his arms against the table, his clawed talons tapping the table. He slowly took in Cid's view, starting from his arms up to his forehead, scanning him with his crimson eyes and not bothering to hide the fact.
"...Ever worn a suit before?" Vincent asked vaguely, testing to see which 'suit' Cid would think of. Taking the wine glass in hand, he swirled it thoughtfully. "I'm sure the Turks have one you could borrow."
A waiter quickly entered the scene and offered Cid a selection of drinks including different forms of wine, beer, and house specials. Once Cid made his selection, their evening menu was placed before them with the waiter later chiming in with-- 'It's on the house, curtesy of Dio'.
Vincent began to become a little nervous. He hadn't eaten anything since... how many years had it been?
"That's... very thoughtful of Dio, but I'll just have a drink."
"Nonsense, sir! Dio has insisted that you both enjoy whatever your heart desires tonight. I'll give you gentlemen a few minutes to decide."
Vincent didn't get a chance to retort as the waiter made haste to exit.
The assortment on the menu was exquisite, however. The menu hadn't changed much since Vincent's first visit to the Gold Saucer some twenty years ago. Some of the finest ingredients were brought here, bringing the pallet the best that Gaia could offer, even Gongaga mushrooms. There was even an appetizer towards the back, specific for a 'romantic evening'-- several of the dishes had ingredients such as Black Milly and Red Shelly.
@fromthe7thsidelines
'Could have been worse'? Well, he'd take that. Especially since Vincent then sat forward a bit, gaze dragging up over him from hands to hair. It wasn't a critical look, far as Cid could tell; if anything, it was more like... appreciative. The thought left warm pink clinging to his ears.
"A suit?" Cid echoed, eyebrows raised briefly. "What, like one o' them fancy tuxedos?" A light laugh as he shook his head. "Nah, never bothered with those. Nice clothes like that 're just beggin' for stains on 'em."
He didn't need anything making him nervous or fidgety on top of this whole flustering situation.
Once the waiter arrived, Cid picked one of the beers they listed, as it was the only brand he recognized among the lot.
He thanked the waiter for the menu, then paused with a low, quiet whistle at the news that the whole dinner would be on the house. Seemed like Dio really loved playing matchmaker. Cid couldn't help but glance at Vincent with the thought; he'd no idea if this 'match' would actually get made. Much as he wanted it to, he wanted more to make sure Vincent had a choice.
Cid propped his chin in one palm, busying himself while scanning over the menu - if only so he wouldn't gawk at Vincent like a damn fool. "Almost wonder if we got the wrong one; this's some expensive stuff t'be on the house."
He glanced up then, and as their eyes met he was reminded of Vincent's attempted protests to the waiter. Well, that was easily remedied.
"Hey, how 'bout we get somethin' t' share? You eat whatever ya can handle, and I can finish off the rest without goin' into a food coma," Cid explained in lighthearted earnestness. Offering the menu, his grin coming easier this time, he added, "You look it over first, find somethin' ya like. I ain't picky, don't worry."
He knew how much trust it took on Cloud's part to allow him this much, and what a priceless treasure that trust was. His love was so fixed upon not seeming weak, to be given these moments for reassurance as something Roche refused to waste.
As ever, he hoped one day Cloud might understand things like this wouldn't drive away anyone worth keeping.
More than one, hm? Cowards.
Roche shook his head. "My darling, I know you want to fight beside me, and I'd love the chance. But what I would love more is to see you recovered well." He skimmed his clean hand's fingertips through soft spikes near her temple. "It isn't a burden to look after you, Cloud. You haven't thought so when I've been wounded."
His hand trailed down to cradle their jaw, thumb smoothing over Cloud's chin and along the edge of their lower lip.
"You know what I can do. You know I can promise your safety. Please let me, at least for moments like this."
Roche is right. Of course he is. Cloud isn't going to be of any help by wearing himself thin and he knows it. He has to trust that Roche has this, that he can lay down and Roche will be just fine protecting him.
She sighs in defeat, knowing there is no true reason to deny it. Besides, Roche can be just as stubborn as she can be. This is something she's not going to win and she's far too tired to even try.
As Roche cradles their jaw, their eyes flutter closed and they lean into the touch, lips parting slightly as thumb brushes over their lip. They take comfort in the small touches but soon, they are pulling back so they can look into their love's eyes.
"Lay with me until I fall asleep? And then you can protect me as much as you need to."
Roche could almost pinpoint the moment his dearest Cloud decided to agree, even before that quiet sigh. Every time, still, he coveted each instance of accepting some facet of him, some want he had - not because he thought his love lacked the capacity, but because of its precious source.
And every time, such tender requests from Cloud made Roche's heart stutter like a half-frozen engine.
His smile emerged, adoring and gentler than he showed to anyone else, and he tipped his chin up to kiss her brow. Though that was half his answer in itself, Roche had no desire to leave her guessing. Not with this.
"Always, my darling."
It took some careful arranging and a bit of adjusting, but Roche soon settled in beside Cloud. One arm was tucked under his head, while his other combed fingers through their hair, blunt nails skimming over scalp in repeated slow arcs he hoped would soothe.
"I've got you, Cloud," Roche murmured low. He leaned in long enough to kiss their cheek, then their lips, longer yet still light. "Rest. I'm not going anywhere."
Not unless those who'd harmed his beloved truly did come searching.
Biggs let the remains of his smile gently fade, though his expression remained gentle. Cloud's silence, no matter how short it was, said plenty about the topic's delicacy. At a guess, maybe it'd involved some memories, rather than just terror invented from whole cloth. In Biggs' experience, those tended to stick worse.
Turned out he was, unfortunately, right on the money.
The specifics didn't tug on his heart any less for that, though. So Cloud had either witnessed it directly, or found her mom after. Was the death caused by fire, or was that just a cover for direct cold-blooded murder?
Not a question Biggs was keen to ask.
"Sephiroth, huh..." There was no doubt in his tone or on his face, only somber contemplation. Even if the guy had once been a golden boy, he'd been Shinra's golden boy. "I won't push for details. I'll just say that was a damn disgusting thing for him to do, and... I'm sorry she was taken from you," Biggs added, softspoken.
The kettle began to whistle. He let his earnest gaze linger on Cloud a moment or two longer, then he turned away to ready their tea.
They both know Shinra isn't the good guys so sharing this with Biggs doesn't feel like the wrong move. He doesn't feel like Biggs will call him crazy because he's hung up on Sephiroth's weird celebrity status.
Once upon a time, she had admired the hell out of Sephiroth too. Hailed him as some sort of hero and then everything had changed. She doesn't know, to this day, what changed. Had he always been like that or did something make him snap?
Cloud shifts uncomfortably, tearing their gaze away from Bigg's because he's looking through them like he's trying to understand and it's been a while since anyone has looked at them like that.
He doesn't know what to say so he stares at the wall, jaw clenching, this was stupid. This was a very stupid idea, he should walk out of this house and go home. Forget that he ever said anything.
But the sound of the kettle whistling, sharp and harsh on the ears, making her flinch and cuts her out of her spiraling thoughts and mako-infused eyes snap to it. She's about to say something when Biggs turns away to ready the tea. Well, she can't leave now.
Maybe they'll only stay long enough to have the tea.
"It's complicated. Sometimes, I think he's....here. It sounds insane, I know."
Even before the kettle, Biggs didn't seek to meet Cloud's eyes again once the latter looked away. Admitting something that raw and painful was already a rare thing for most people, and must be doubly so for someone so closed off about so much. In a way he wouldn't voice, Biggs felt honored that Cloud had trusted him with it.
Instead, he just watched those mental wheels turn, until the boiling water pulled his attention away.
Cloud had looked half-ready to bolt by then, though, so it was a quiet relief when Biggs didn't hear any steps making for the door. Even if it was just politeness that kept her here, he appreciated the company regardless.
So when they added onto their admission, Biggs narrowly avoided fumbling as he set aside the mostly-empty kettle. He mulled on what Cloud said, while stirring a spoonful of honey into each mug of darkening tea.
Honestly, given what Biggs had just learned, it didn't sound insane at all. It sounded like trauma - the kind he dealt with himself, and the kind he'd helped others with as well - though he did wonder whether it hit a SOLDIER harder. Especially since both Cloud and Sephiroth had mako in their veins. Either way, Biggs still gently shook his head as he took up both drinks.
"Not at all." He handed one steaming mug to Cloud, then backed up a couple steps to hold his own in both hands. His smile was gentle, yet brittle. "On my worst days, I see things in the corner of my eye. I hear things from years ago instead of an active conversation, maybe smell smoke or blood that isn't there." As Biggs went on, his smile had faded. "Sometimes I'm dumped back into the shittiest days of my life, and I gotta be pulled out."
He glanced down, dipping his teabag a few more times just for something to do.
"Maybe that's not exactly what you've got goin' on, or maybe it is. But I can tell you this much." Biggs blew on his tea, earnest hazel eyes once more fixed on Cloud's face past dark lashes. "I will never call you crazy." A careful, measured sip. "And you ever need someone to drown him out, I'll always try."
Roche kept half his focus on healing Cloud's wound, and half on watching to ensure his love's eyes stayed open. The initial pressure had never been a wonderful feeling, in his experience, but inflicting a few moments' more pain was quite worth guarding the flame of life burning in Cloud's eyes.
He shook his head at the warning, not to brush it aside but to reassure. The burn of Roche's own adoring ferocity flared bright. "If you were, then they'll have to face me first and pray they live to speak of it."
With both of his hands occupied, Roche instead leaned in to kiss Cloud's brow before pressing his own forehead against it. There was still warmth there, still the soft feathering of his darling's breath past his skin. Roche took a deeper, slower breath.
"You'll be alright, Cloud." A reminder to himself as well. "You'll be alright."
Once the materia's glow finally ebbed from the space between them, Roche returned it to his aid kit. He cradled the other's cheek with his clean palm, and this time left a light and tender kiss on Cloud's lips.
"Sleep here, as long as you need. I'll stand guard. A little rest, some food, then you can laugh in that cretin's face."
If Roche didn't get the chance to first.
Cloud is in no position to fight, even with the healing materia it might take some time to be in decent enough shape to fight but he's not worried. Not with Roche by his side who will fight for him and protect him with such ferocity that the men who attacked him will wish they hadn't.
Feeling Roche's forehead against her brings a sense of security and comfort. She hates this, being so weak, being so vulnerable. If this were anyone else other than Roche, she would have denied such help, refusing to be seen as weak and helpless.
But Roche doesn't think that of them, they know that, so it's easier to accept help. They suppose being romantically involved also has a lot to do with the intimate trust they have built together, too.
He hums in content at the peck, a kiss that does not last too long, and Cloud does not complain about it, either. His love's lips are comforting but not something he's entirely focused on right now, no matter how much he wants to be.
"There was more than one of them. I'm fine, I can stay awake." Roche can handle himself, she knows that, and she's so tired, but leaving Roche to fend for himself feels wrong.
He knew how much trust it took on Cloud's part to allow him this much, and what a priceless treasure that trust was. His love was so fixed upon not seeming weak, to be given these moments for reassurance as something Roche refused to waste.
As ever, he hoped one day Cloud might understand things like this wouldn't drive away anyone worth keeping.
More than one, hm? Cowards.
Roche shook his head. "My darling, I know you want to fight beside me, and I'd love the chance. But what I would love more is to see you recovered well." He skimmed his clean hand's fingertips through soft spikes near her temple. "It isn't a burden to look after you, Cloud. You haven't thought so when I've been wounded."
His hand trailed down to cradle their jaw, thumb smoothing over Cloud's chin and along the edge of their lower lip.
"You know what I can do. You know I can promise your safety. Please let me, at least for moments like this."
