[myristicisms]

Multi-Muse // Multi-Fandom

// Written and loved by Ganna

- Primary muse focus;; Caesar Zeppeli, Hol Horse, & Axel/Lea

- Secondary muses;; Nicoletta Goldstein, Zack Fair, & Vergil Sparda

Rules || Muses || Interest Check || Ask Memes

Affiliates;; tsukiigami / tw1stedcurse / tsuukiimi , sleeplesswork , devilarmed

PSD credit;; violet by parkyoriii

Seba Natsuki icon credit;; @/tsukiigami

[myristicisms]

Sorry for saying I'm coming back to doing replies only to Not Do That and instead post drabbles, I fear I have another one exploring Hol Horse in the works 💔

[fearlessmonk]

Tifa straightened, blinking twice as she processed everything he told her. She hadn't thought of it like that-SOLDIERS being ShinRa's property. Her lips curled at the thought; it sounded inhumane. Yet, hearing that he should be dead in the desert outside Midgar? Her stomach flipped. With a hard swallow, she buried the lurching and held still at the idea, but eventually shook her head with disbelief. The monk placed a hand to her chest, as if it would slow her racing heartbeat. Was that what happened to the other SOLDIERs? She didn't want to linger on the thought.

"Who did you want to see?" Her head tilted just slightly, and raven hair fell over her shoulder. It was certainly someone important if he risked life and limb to be back in the Slums of all places. Had he seen them? Yet, here he sat before her. Her heart fluttered at the idea that someone went out of their way just to visit her-a rare occasion indeed. With a deep breath, she leashed her adrenaline and met those mako-infused hues upon her.

Yes, he was alive, messed up or not. It made her wonder about how the other SOLDIERs ended up, if they were even left alive. If he was captured by ShinRa, what would they do with him? The thought caused another wave of her stomach. What she had seen and heard would be enough and she couldn't fathom anything worse. Tifa had to hold back welling of her eyes as she managed, "I'm glad to see you alive."

She didn't realize she was staring at him when she shook her head clapped her hands together. Brushing her palms, hands moved to her hips as she leaned forward. Eyes flicked to the clock on the wall; it was only another few minutes until closing time. Where would he go when they did. "It's getting late," she reminded, watching as the last of the patrons began their leave. Most checks left at the tables with their payments, she could attend to those in a bit. "What kind of host would I be if I left you out to ShinRa? I have an extra room upstairs. Please stay tonight. I'd hate to see you on the new tomorrow morning."

Between the news blaring across the room, and the hushed whispers of AVALANCHE gave her enough concern. Her shoulders fell as she made her way to turn the television off, and she brushed loose strands of hair from her face. When she looked to him again, her chest sank, swearing that spikey hair was blonde until she blinked again. With another breath, the monk motioned towards the stairway in the back of the bar. "I'm not going to hold you captive, but it'd make me feel better to know you're safe for the evening."

"Perhaps tomorrow, I can help you around town. If you're tight on funds, you can help me run some errands, too."

[myristicisms]

He's silently grateful that she doesn't prompt him for further elaboration on the matter, on the whereabouts and what else he'd been up to since waking back up in the manor. There's a distinct bitterness he feels about the time lost, of the numerous messages he'd received begging him to respond on his PHS only to receive silence in return. Bright eyes close for a moment, easing the rising grief back into something more manageable, something far easier to hide away. Now isn't the time to stew and brood over the autonomy he'd signed away and just barely regained, especially not with the distress Tifa looks to be in. ( Shit, that's my fault isn't it? ) It often was in most cases, doing too much or not enough, too compliant and languid or too rebellious and stubborn, never knowing how to just be moderate instead of extreme.

“ Just a past friendly face, she's probably forgotten all about me though now. ” He wouldn't blame Aerith either, five years is a long time to go without a word to one another regardless of their dynamic and her previous letter had made it obvious she wasn't going to wait any longer. For all she knew, much like his parents and most of his buddies back at ShinRa, Zack had been killed in Nibelheim. He'd been stupid to rush back to Midgar, knowing ShinRa was more than likely waiting waiting for him to return and he'd barely managed to survive his own impatience, barely managed to drag himself back to the city he'd spent far too much of his youth in. It would be selfish to book it somewhere he was no longer welcome to.

It's also an odd feeling to not be looked at with disgust or fear, he'd grown used to it when he had first been promoted but the sting never quite dulled. Zack knew many thought of SOLDIER as monsters that took delight in rending through flesh, took joy in blood shed even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. Of all the people who had reason to look at him in such a light, he thinks perhaps Tifa had the most reason to do so and yet she doesn't. She's happy he's alive and perhaps that should be enough to justify in his mind that he's just as much a person as she is, just as much a person as anybody else. It doesn't, of course, but it does ease the dull ache in his heart that constantly thought himself a monster just the same. He's still alive and that was the how the voice in the back of his head made its case, nobody should survive half of what Zack managed to live through and yet here he stood, tired eyes awkwardly meeting familiar rubies.

“ How much for the room? ” He questions softly, not even realizing just how late it had grown in the midst of their catching up. He'd had plans of hiding away in an abandoned building he'd cleared out, ShinRa's goons too cowardly to even bother with going in but a nice bed didn't sound too bad to his back, and definitely didn't sound too terrible to his still healing chest. “ I appreciate your offer Tifa, it would be rude of me to expect to stay for free even if we do have history together, so... Money for safety yeah? That way you won't have to worry about seeing my face posted everywhere for at least another day. ” He's not hurting for gil after all, Angeal's constant hammering about being frugal being one of very few lessons that did stick around and it would be impolite to not offer to pay either.

Regardless though, Zack understands at the very least that he won't be returning to the industrial surroundings of a neglected factory for the night, not with Tifa pointing him to the stairs to head up. He doesn't want to though, not quite yet anyways. “ I don't need any cash but if the offer to help out is still open, I wouldn't mind too much. Speaking of, you need help with closing up? I'd rather be down here doing something over being lost upstairs, y'know? ”

[myristicisms]

Crimson ichor sinks into the sullied white of his pants, oozes against pale palms, he can smell the iron before he registers the warmth sinking into his fingertips. ( Breathe, utilize your hamon breathing and heal yourself come on — ! ) He wants to scream, wants to shove the limp weight into standing and demand that the man bleeding out in his arms fix his wounds and get up but the usually tanned hue of his skin was growing pale, energy crackling around the body laid in his arms while Caesar desperately tries to find the most concerning of wounds, tries to ignore the haughty laughter from above as he stares at the slowly dimming aquas staring up at him voicelessly. His throat is mangled, the blonde notes, feeling grim and numb all at once upon realizing that Joseph wouldn't be able to use hamon, not in his current state and Caesar didn't have enough in his system to try and heal him with his subpar skills. The maestra was the one with better control of the types of hamon but she was out for the count too.

The hand he clutches to his chest goes limp, slowly slipping between his fingers and very nearly falls onto the blood covered stomach of the once very much alive Joestar, the one that no longer moves with each labored breath because he'd taken his last.

Emerald greens jolt open, body tense as he tries to sit up only to have a heavy limb weighing him down. The weight of it frazzles his mind more, they're not on a cliff bathed by dawn's first rays, there is no iron scent sticking in his nose and tinging his tongue nor is there hot liquid tainting his palms. The only warmth is the snoring body haphazardly sprawled around his own and the tears seeping down pale cheeks, irritated trails marring the mix of alabaster and pink flesh with subtle reds.

( That dream again... )

It seemed to happen more and more often, different variations of surviving his fight with Wamu only to see Joseph die in the final battle with Kars. He hadn't been awake or present for that, his imagination took brutal advantage of the fact that his only knowledge of that particular fight had been based on word of mouth, between the maestra, Speedwagon, and Joseph himself, the imagery painted by all three had been enough to sprout a seed of fear in the back of the Zeppeli's mind. Tired eyes flit to the side, looking at the slumbering body next to him and fixating on the stump where his lover's left hand had once been attached.

It wasn't any secret that Caesar cursed that damned pillarman for taking the Joestar's hand in the final battle but it had been a small sacrifice in comparison to what could have happened, he doesn't know how he would have reacted had he woken from his semi comatose state to news that the very man he would have and almost did give his life for had perished in such a crucial fight. His heart aches as much as it flutters seeing the brunette's relaxed features, the way he snores and how his nose twitches, seemingly knowing that the body he had been cradling so lovingly had shifted slightly with the way he bullies his way further into Caesar's space. It would make the Italian laugh if he weren't so worried about waking the younger man up and if he wasn't so anxious from the dream he'd managed to wake from then maybe he would have. Maybe he could morph the scowl into something amused but the best he manages is a soft smile, scarred fingertips gently tracing the relaxed forearm curled around his waist, back tentatively pressing against the sturdy and warm chest that confirms that Joseph Joestar had survived. That he'd won against the ultimate being and he lived to tell the tale.

Perhaps Joseph was not the type to seem heroic, Caesar used to think the man was nothing more than a cowardly and lucky idiot that had everything handed down to him. When had he changed his mind? When he'd fought Esidisi valiantly on his own and survived? No, that feeling had occured before then, had it been established in their comraderie after surviving the hell climb pillar together? Again, not quite. There's hitch in the breathing beside him, snores breaking for a second making Caesar hold his own until the brief tension in the large body encompassing his own eases back into the familiar sounds of Joseph's slumber. It had been during the first meeting of those godlike beings, Caesar settles on.

Then again, perhaps that had been when Caesar allowed himself to open his heart to the Joestar too, a willingness to connect and be friends just as their grandfathers had fifty years before. Joseph was not a gentleman though, and Caesar had been bottling up his rage, trying to tamp down the desperate need for revenge for his father. They both were just stupid youths when they'd first crossed paths and while Caesar finds the thought of how much he'd hated Joseph at first, he can't help but to thank whatever was above for their destined meeting.

It doesn't matter much, when Caesar had fallen in love with the British idiot burrowing his nose into golden tresses, mumbling something completely incoherent and getting drool on the Italian's pale back. That was something he wanted to find utterly disgusting, the warm liquid cooling in the moderate temperature of their room combined with Joseph's snoring directly into his ear and yet still the smile doesn't fade like the initial panic he'd felt when he'd woken up. His nose twitches, lost in thought for who knows how long until the snoring against the back of his skull fades into silence and the large hand that had been curled around his waist shifts, crossing over his stomach and resting fingertips against his hip.

“ Buongiorno, amore mio. ” His voice is soft, amused as Joseph mumbles some half assed attempt at a good morning before flipping over to his other side and lingering in the half awake state he never seems to shake in the mornings, not until he gets his morning tea anyways. Caesar knows the routine well enough, years of repetition having trained the once wild and irate blonde into establishing his own ways of handling their mornings. Joseph would flip over after the exchange and Caesar would pad to the kitchen lazily, kettle on the stove to brew his lover's tea and coffee pot brewing his own morning indulgence.

It's the routine that makes his nightly woes feel worth it, arms wrapping around his waist and weird lips pressing to the side of his throat while Joseph invades his space even if he should have been around to help prevent the loss of his hand. Moments of peace, knowing that they're both safe and the rest of the world isn't going to be plagued by the blight of the pillarman ever again, and most of all, waking up to a man with the world's worst bed head known to man, had been worth every single agonizing second. He'd die for it all over again if given the option.

[myristicisms]

ominously stares at isa with no explanation…

“ Hallo?? Can I help you?? ” He knows he has a staring problem himself but he can't help but to be confused.

[darckcarnival]

The moment words left the mans mouth, Darck felt as if today was going to be more of a chore than actual work. Her head lifting from reading over a few texts on her phone, just to be met with the image of... Well, a very large cowboy for one. With the scent of something familiar, but rough around the edges. What was that feeling which had accompanied it-

"Excuse me?" The brunette turned towards him entirely, phone tucked into the trench coat pocket. "Really...? What year are you from?" One hand lifted onto her hip now, resting there as she stgared up at the man with a calculating gaze. "I'm here trying to do work, not exactly leisure, sir. Company is not needed, and belittles that a woman like me, can take care of herself-"

And then, she pauses...

Oh.

Sudenly, she recognized that odd buzz in the air, the way scents sort of tilted just quite right aroujnd him. "Oh no, you're another stand user, aren't you? That feeling around you gives that away. Don't pull something ridiculous out..." Please don't be another god damn Joestar...

[myristicisms]

The lady's got a bite to her, he'll give her that. He's amused enough with the reaction offered to him, of course it's not exactly a cowboys riding through the country era anymore but for that to be so brazenly pointed out? Well, bite him if it makes the blonde laugh around his cigarette. “ Perdon, that was rude of me you're right. ” He acquiesces easily, “ Didn't mean it to sound like I thought you needed a big man hanging 'round your space. You look like you can handle yerself just fine. ”

Of course he had no intentions of playing ser knight Hol Horse, that just ain't who he is. Regardless though, a pretty lady to talk to with an attitude to boot definitely felt like a better way to bide his time. Or so he thought anyways, she has a look in her eye that makes him feel the slightest bit uneasy and he knows the second she parts her lips to make the accusation.

“ Eh? Well c'mon now don't go jumping to conclusions here. ” Though if she knows about stands, maybe she's a stand user herself? He's half tempted to summon the Emperor just to see if she notices it but... ( I won't pull a gun on a lady, that ain't right. ) “ Y'got me darlin' - but I ain't the sorta man to use it on anyone for no reason, especially not a woman. ” His stance tenses regardless, he's dealt with enough people attacking him for, in his opinion, no actual reason and while he's less than inclined to pick a fight with a woman... Well, he has no qualms tossing his pride aside to make a tactical escape.

[schtinkybeanz]

ℤ𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝔽𝕒𝕚𝕣 ⇆ 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕟 𝕂𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕓𝕖 {𝕞𝕠𝕕} {5/???}

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪 𝕍𝕀𝕀 ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖: 𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝕀ℕ𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

[fearlessmonk]

Her lips twitched upward at his compliment. He was right, she did make a killer marg. Her customers had become more than patrons, many had grown to familiar faces and friends. Seeing them would bring her and inkling of joy throughout her days, but seeing Zack stand before her felt more of a reprieve. This late in the evening, few other bodies filled the establishment, many tucking in for the night. Only a handful still lingered; the arrival of the ex-SOLDIER even more of a surprise to Tifa.

Watching him approach the bar, it was strange. There, she picture Cloud again, and with a blink, Zack stood there. Tifa shook her head, only offering him that classic, small smile that showed she was glad for his presence. At his request, she quickly fetched a water for him, and shrugged at his concern. "One more glass won't make a difference for cleaning," she assured with a wave of her hand.

In the background, she could hear the rumblings of the TV that hung overhead. Something about AVALANCHE being found across Midgar, but she tuned out the concern for the time being. Unconsciously, a breath of worry left her, but she cleared her throat as she listened to him.

Admittedly, the vague answers worried her-as did many things nowadays. Yet, she only nodded and smiled at positive tone.

"Traveling on foot the whole time? You're crazy!"

Then, the truth, smudged in with the rest. Fugitive? Her heart fell to her stomach, but she didn't allow it to show in her expression as she leaned in with her elbows on the counter. Sure, ShinRa's patrol lightened up, but the risk still hung. "You're brave for hiding amongst the lion's den," she said, being sure to keep her voice low. Ruby eyes flicked in the direction of the windows on the walls before falling back on him. She couldn't say much, as being part of AVALANCHE placed her in the same position. "Good thing you showed up to the right place to stay hidden in plain sight."

[myristicisms]

Perhaps it had been a mistake to drag himself back to Midgar, the so called city of dreams having been nothing more than a nightmare since he'd managed to stand upright after who knows how long but... It's nice to see Tifa smiling again, he'd been worried she had joined the rest of Nibelheim's residents in a far too early grave that, for all he thought, could have and should have been prevented. He's simply grateful that nobody seemed to care enough to do much about his presence save for the occasional dirty look, something he felt was more than deserved given who he once was.

Caution felt easier to ignore in the comfort of Tifa's bar, the few stragglers lurking around not making him half as worried or nervous as he typically felt when in public spaces. He offers a grin, large canines gleaming between curled lips while delicately taking the glass from her. He imagines it's a rather ridiculous display, a large weapon meant to maim and kill offering a stupid grin while acting as though he were handling the most fragile fabric in the world for an important job when all Zack had been doing was chatting with an old friend and getting water. ( So much for a super badass hero. ) “ Thanks, I just figured there's a lot less scrubbing a normal cup than there is one of those fancy glasses with sugar and stuff sticking to it. ” Or in other words, he'd already made up his mind that he was being something of a pest.

Thin eyebrows pinch together though, thoughtful while he tunes into the hushed whispers around the remaining patrons and the news blaring in his skull. His tongue flicks out a moment, some stupid habit he couldn't ever break from childhood while he listens intently. AVALANCHE seems to be making the rounds again and he couldn't be happier that ShinRa managed to fumble the last of its most elite warriors five years prior. At least there's still people with a backbone trying to make a change in the world and he has to respect the dedication even if the more jaded and experienced bits of him know it's going to take a lot more than just protesting. His nose scrunches, free palm resting against his sternum and digging the heel of it into the aching muscles.

“ Maybe a little but it wasn't by choice! ” He tries to laugh it off, make it seem far less serious than what the actual situation had been considering he's still feeling an odd loss against his side. Over a year of dragging a comatose weight settling deep within his bones and musculature to a point that there's a distinct wrongness he feels at the fact that he only has himself to take care of now. “ And I know, I know, I probably should have stayed in the middle of nowhere but I had someone here I needed to see and then I heard musings that you were here and well - ! ”

Not a day passes where he doesn't question his own choices, knowing well enough that he's in a precarious situation, the balance between alerting people who matter and people who shouldn't know that he's alive being all the more thin a line to walk and he hates how he has to constantly watch his own back. Long gone are Zack's careless days, the youthfulness he'd once had melted into the battle worn man stood at the bar trying to smile properly at Tifa. “ Right? It's a little harder considering I'm... Well, obviously ShinRa's old property but as far as they're concerned I'm dead in the desert outside Midgar so at least I'm not actively being hunted down anymore. I forgot how good they are at tracking people down when they really set their minds to it but here I am! Alive and only a little messed up. ”

[myristicisms]

Large eyebrows raise, confusion flashing in blue eyes at the strange woman he's staring directly at with a tilt of his head, hat doing little to obscure the grin splitting his lips wide apart. @darckcarnival seems to have caught his attention for the moment... “ What's a purdy lil thing like you doing on your own? ”

He doesn't have the bearings to recognize the fact that there's a familiar air to the stranger, or more like other worldly aura anyways. “ Y'mind lettin' me keep you company? I'd hate to see a lady all on her own. ”

[myristicisms]

Me in my moron era because I keep thinking about Zack and my verse for where he survives his last stand and like here's a brief rambling about that because he's so special to me and this particular version of him also makes me go bonkers.

Main differences for him include being taller (~6'5 once he stops growing.), His already pronounced canines being slightly larger (he already had what looked vaguely fang like just to really drive into the dog imagery but they're slightly larger now to feed more into the wolf imagery I have for him) the mentioned above glow of his eyes though they're the same affen turquoise as mako typically is, and his hair is slightly longer + the obvious extra scars that come from his last stand, such as numerous little ones littering across his face, arms and chest and a giant scar on his sternum.

[fearlessmonk]

His shift to more chipper allowed her shoulders to relax, almost in relief. For a moment, seeing him stand there, Tifa paused. A blink, and instead, Cloud stood there, until she blinked again. Zack stood there clear as day. Even then, part of her wondered if her mind played tricks on her. Something about him had changed; as if he carried a lighter weight. Ruby hues fell to her feet for just a moment before she offered another small, but genuine smile. Spinning on her toes, his question caused a forced giggle. "Sure," she shrugged. "Good enough, but loyal more than anything. People love a good drink."

Looking at him, it was like a portal to the past she didn't want to linger in. Admittedly, she knew that part of her would always be left behind on that terrible day--but if it weren't for Zack, she wouldn't be standing here today. Parts of her memory fogged, either by self-preservation or from the trauma of it all. She ran a hand over the old scar on her abdomen as she made her way to the bar, but shook her head as if it would rid the memory.

The monk waved her hand over to the seats, beckoning him to come to the bar she now stood behind. Her elbow rested on the countertop with cheek in palm, and her hard stare followed his steps. Tifa straightened her shoulders, forcing another smile- this time something with a little more mischief in her expression. With every step towards her, she had to remind herself that the past was just that. The half decade since then, things had changed, she had changed. Her eyelashes fluttered-what a silly habit from serving her usuals- when she asked, "What can I make for you?"

Before he answered, a hand rested on her hip. The weight of the room felt heavier since his arrival, but she opted to believe that the feeling in her own chest weighed her down. She swallowed hard, meeting that mako gaze, but cleared her throat. To keep it more light hearted, she asked, "Where have you been these last few years? What trouble have you gotten into?"

[myristicisms]

Feeling at ease was admittedly not something he'd grown used to, not anymore. A lingering sense of dread, constantly on high alert for footsteps that shouldn't be nearby or unfamiliar voices, extra heartbeats thrumming in his ears, overwhelming him constantly. Zack did not consider himself miserable in his free time, he can't allow himself to think of his existence so negatively simply because he needed some sense of normalcy in the devastation he'd been experiencing for years. Catching a break, however, was rarely something that managed to dig as bone deep as it did currently. “ Yeah? You look like you make a killer marg so... Can't say I'm too shocked you have loyal regulars. ” If Zack were a drinking man he'd probably consider joining the crowd during the bar's open hours more often, more for the company of the bartender, though he's not keen on expressing that.

Too stuck in his own head for a moment, he barely registers the fact that his old friend ( maybe? ) had separated herself from him, he feels embarrassed once more for his lack of attentiveness. He does what he does best though, observes like an obedient dog patiently waiting for his command, too awkward to walk around the unfamiliar building and too nervous to assume Tifa would want him to further bully his way into the space. She turns her back to him, guidance silently offered to the former SOLDIER that he's grateful for. His boots are light on the wooden floors of Seventh Heaven, trying his best not to stomp around carelessly or loudly through some silent respect for the bartender giving him a very familiar expression.

He wants to laugh again, wants to offer his own teasing grin in response but all that he can manage is a surprised noise similar to a squeak of confusion. The idea of getting a drink hadn't even crossed his mind when he'd tracked her down, ( just to apologize, obviously ) there's a tapping of knuckles against the bar as though he's trying to figure out if she's making the offering to him and not some other patron overstaying their welcome. He feels weird about it, weird about making niceties with someone he'd felt horrific guilt towards for years. “ Just a water, you have everything nice and cleaned up already. ” Since it's rude to reject a host offering something, water feels like a reasonable enough request.

It also makes being serious easier too, sugary things make Zack feel anxious and the idea of possible inebriation during any conversation - let alone one that includes idle chatter - makes him feel sick. ( Then again so does talking to anyone. ) Too much talking about himself always left him nervous, concern he'd say something wrong and scare off his company or tip the wrong person off and wind up with ShinRa hot on his heels all over again. Tifa though? He's sure he can trust her with less vague of answers, she had been a victim of the company too after all.

“ Better question is where haven't I been, right? Nothing like traveling across the continent on foot! ” Like he'd just taken a long sabbatical, a needed vacation and hadn't been fighting for his life for the last year or so. “ I'm not gonna talk your ear off about the journey but uh... I will say I'm kind of sort of a fugitive on the run? Then again who isn't when you don't like ShinRa, right? ”

[myristicisms]

Ohhh Zack how I missed you so....

[myristicisms]

Wide eyed is likely the best way to express how he imagines he looks, confused at the kindness offered to him, the lack of disdain or hate that many often regarded him with. Rightfully so at that, Zack may not be an active participant in the oppression of those that are less fortunate than the big wigs at his old employer's, but that doesn't exactly erase the fact that he had once been one ShinRa's most loyal lap dogs, a leashed creature that was more than happy to bare his fangs at anyone his so called bosses ( owners more like ) pointed at. Tifa's kindness had been one of the few things that kept the memory of Nibelheim alive, her grief something that maintained his momentum in whatever the hell it was he found himself trying to do.

First Class Soldier Fair wasn't a man that existed anymore, a title he'd once been so proud to have as his own long since shed the moment he'd found out that he was just a pawn for some larger scheme and even moreso after bothering to listen to a ghost of his past, to understand that there is nothing heroic in wasting his life away as the next Frankenstein's monster.

“ I... Yeah, I'm happy to see you too, you seem like you're thriving here. ”

He doesn't know how best to communicate just how ecstatic he is to see the raven haired woman alive and well, of course he has no clue how to express it - joy something he'd nearly forgotten about in the half decade he'd been missing. He has so much more he wants to say, so much more that he knows he should say but can't figure out how because he's always been terrible with words. Leather clad fingers gently twitch against her palms, mako tainted eyes finally drooping with the tension of his body easing away. His mouth feels dry, the awkwardness of someone who hasn't socialized with... Well, anybody, in years despite being a horribly social creature, a tragic reminder of all the time stripped from him. “ Right - yeah! No use lingering on the past when there's plenty to do in the present, I think... ”

AVALANCHE probably still had some subsections going on, while Fair knows he isn't going to be welcomed by the group there's at least the option of trying to help them seeing as there's a shared goal in mind. He doesn't feel like he deserves it, but the feeling of anxiety fades some with her familiar smile, fond memories of journeying the Nibel landscape with her as his guide and joking around with Sephiroth far more pleasant than flames licking at his flesh, of metal knocking his head with his own weight struggling against gravity.

He forces a smile, lip curling over sharp canines sheepishly with a shake of dark spikes and a light laugh. “ What have you been up to since then? I see you've got yourself a nice bar, I imagine with a good customer base too yeah? ” The least he could do is change the subject, not quite wanting to separate from one the few good connections of his past quite yet all the while trying not to overstep, to not overstay his welcome.

[myristicisms]

What if... I picked up Hol Horse as a muse.... Then what...

[cafesol]

oh god, is he getting choked up??? “ i think it'd be kinda hard to be friends with a worm, but if my consciousness still in the worm... i guess it wouldn't be too hard, you'd just have to carry me on your shoulder. ”

[myristicisms]

He can't help the laugh, of all the things he's seen... “ I mean I was besties with a hamster when I was like twelve so a worm won't beeeee too different, probably... ”

[cafesol]

sniffles. “ do you really think so? would you still be my friend? ”

[myristicisms]

“ Ja of course I would! ” utterly flabbergasted at the idea of being a worm changing anything. “ Why wouldn't I be? ”

[cafesol]

“ don't worry about it, that guy's irrelevant. ”

[myristicisms]

“ Oh okay.... For the record, you'd be a very ehh... Um... Adorable worm, ja! Sehr kleine... ”