@gaiaden
☆ ━━━ Cloud is at the Gold Saucer--a place he never thought would make it out of the broken remains of a world washed away.
He finds it a testament to Gaia’s desperate need for indulgence that, of all the places to rebuild quickly after the Lifestream cleansed the Planet, the Gold Saucer became a priority. And when Cloud stumbles into it hoping to find Materia at the ruins, he’s shocked that it’s almost the same glimmering attraction from his memories.
Of course, the Lifestream didn’t leave the place totally intact. He can see that the cables for the trolleys is made of different wires tangled together and the floors and walls of the place are a patchwork of different materials now... but still, it looks golden enough to Cloud, almost glowing just like before.
He’s even more bemused by the fact that the Battle Square still exists in its intimidating glory. And the place still allowed gauntlet-styled matches for Battle Points, which could then be traded for prizes like powerful Materia....
Cloud spends two hours hacking away at nameless enemies and fiends, gathering BP like a starving man at a buffet. It isn’t that he needs more Materia--he has a chestful of it hidden away, but there’s something satisfying in fighting anything. He’s getting rusty, he can tell.
However, even Cloud gets tired. He finds himself working his way to the other gleaming floors, blue eyes adjusting to the brightness after the gloom of the Battle Square. He’s heading to a refreshment stand on the main floor, when he stops before a different archway... it leads to the gondolas, which are now being powered by steam and slowly revolve into the dark, starlit sky above.
There’s a line of people twining from the ride’s entrance, all couples giggling and huddling close to one another.
...Cloud remembers riding those golden carriages up into the sky with Aeris once upon a time. He remembers being strung high up in the sparkling night, and despite the fireworks blooming around them then, all he could see were her eyes, glowing and reflecting a myriad of colors.
He steps in line, pointedly alone.
He shouldn’t indulge his memories like this, but there he goes, inching closer to the carriage doors...
