#heavensfists

[annjiru]

The  morning  air  was  crisp,  the  environment  completely  still  save  for  the  rhythmic  whir  of  helicopter  blades  in  the  distance.  The  commander  peered  out  the  window,  watching  the  outline  of  a  sleepy  town  slowly  materialize.  

Missions  in  remote  areas  tended  to  be  few  and  far  between  for  1st  Class  SOLDIERs,  for  it  was  typical  for  local  forces  of  the  ShinRa  army  to  take  charge  of  resolving  local  conflicts.  Issues  surrounding  Mako  reactors,  though,  were  more  sensitive  and  thus  considered  top  priorities,  thus  warranting  Angeal’s  involvement.  

The  helicopter  began  to  circle  on  the  outskirts  of  town,  finally  touching  down  after  sending  a  confirmation  dispatch  to  ShinRa  HQ.  The  commander  gave  a  curt  nod  to  the  pilot  before  deftly  leaping  outside,  taking  time  to  straighten  his  uniform  before  beginning  his  march  into  Nibelheim.  

The  mission  was  simple,  albeit  a  bit  unusual.  Apparently,  a  horde  of  behemoth  had  driven  out  the  local  Nibel  wolf  population  and  have  been  causing  damage  to  the  infrastructure  at  and  around  the  reactor.  The  behemoth  had  been  strengthened  after  lapping  up  pools  of  mako  that  seeped  out  of  broken  piping  and  had  begun  behaving  erratically,  threatening  to  cause  irreparable  damage  to  the  facility.  Eliminating  them  would  be  crucial  to  the  continued  success  of  ShinRa’s  mako  extraction  operations  in  the  area.  

The  company  had  arranged  for  him  to  meet  with  a  mountain  tour  guide  to  help  navigate  the  terrain  around  the  Nibelheim  reactor.  Angeal  furrowed  his  brow  as  he  attempted  to  decipher  a  message  sent  to  him  by  the  Turks  about  who  exactly  would  be  receiving  him.  The  reception  in  the  area  was  poor,  though,  and  the  message  cut  off  just  after  it  mentioned  their  rendezvous  point.  Checking  the  time  on  his  communicator,  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  he  was  several  minutes  early.  It  seemed  like  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait.

@heavensfists​

[strifebound]

❛ how long have i been asleep? ❜

— ( dialogue prompts )

"... A while."

Cloud stares out the window, posted up against the sill with his chin pressed into his palm as he looks off toward some unknown horizon. Everyone else had already gone out and about for the day, spread out through Junon's lower bowels as they set to replenish supplies or gather what intel they could from the analog to the Midgar's slums before time grew too short.

If he'd had his way he'd have been up and moving hours ago, before anyone else even thought to rustle beneath their sheets and greet the muggy, polluted ocean morning; but ... he hadn't wanted to leave Tifa to wake up alone in the room. He berates himself for his weakness until he hears her, at last, pull herself up from beneath the threadbare covers of the inn room's bed.

Then it's gone, because he has something to focus on that wasn't just his shit feelings, and he lets his attention settle in on her with the same alertness he affords everything else he deems important in his life; work and friendship, somehow always met with the same tenor.

As ever, his expression is at once unreadable and all too obvious, the knit to his brow perhaps telling as he finally looks at her, and then away.

"Figured you needed it since you were out so long." A pause. "You ... okay?"

[whiitemateria]

— starter for @heavensfists

“Tifa...!”

Aerith all but runs up to Tifa, reaching out with a grin on her face to grasp the fighter’s hands with both of her own. Her bangles gently sound off, the gentle tinkle of metal on metal, as she lifts up the other girl’s hands in the space between them. They’re always warmer than she thinks they’re going to be, but then again, the taller of the pair was muscular, she was strong - it made sense for her to exude as much warmth physically as her presence tended to.

There’s a brief pause, as if Aerith was contemplating how to word what she wants to ask, like she somehow didn’t think she’d get this far, before she shakes her head in a small chuckle and says, “I want to go eat at Turtle Paradise before we leave the village... I asked Cloud, but he said he wasn’t hungry...! Sooo, I thought I’d come ask you instead?”

It’s not as though Aerith would rather spend more time with Cloud than Tifa - far from it, in fact - it had just so happened that when she remembered the bar after going through their bags, with a handful of torn-down posters crumpled up in her own, while they were resting, Cloud had been right next to her. And, today in particular, ornery enough to just deny her the frivolity outright.

Well, his loss! Aerith had since officially decided it was girl’s night. Or, day, since the sun still shone down comfortably on Wutai Village as a whole.

“Do you wanna? We can share a huuuuge bowl of noodles?”

[cornelianlute]

@heavensfists​

gentle fingers delicately trace the letters on the poster advertising some kind of play ? show ? sarah was altogether unsure though she knew she had found herself in the same world she had found aerith in before, but now she was in an altogether different place than the cathedral. there weren't that many people out in the streets as far as she could see and when her eyes landed on a woman with long , raven hair , sarah sprints over to her and asks, "pardon me, but do you know anything about that play?" she points to the poster. "i've never heard of loveless. is there anything you could tell me?" it was her curiosity speaking. there was no formal place in cornelia to see plays - it was all acted out in the center of town and she wondered how different it would be.

[serafim]

🖊 + heavensfist HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES

@heavensfists

[biggvsv]

✭  Tifa 》@heavensfists

Biggs had always been an early riser, waking up an hour or so before artificial daylight brightened up the lower sections of Midgar’s cityscape. Others were getting a head start on their chores or odd jobs too, even if the most pressing thing on their mind was a basic sweep to get rid of some trash lingering at their door step.

The all too familiar presence of his pistol settled at his side as he dressed, his body having learned to compensate for the extra load by shifting his natural posture. He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting, a sign that he was accepting “the weight of their work”, as Barrett would preach (minus a colorful expletive, or two). It honestly made him feel like a child waving around a tin gun, or the type of lowlife who needed to flaunt a weapon in order to demand respect. 

This wasn’t... him. 

None of this felt like something that Biggs Lombard woke up one day and decided, “yes, this seems like a foolproof plan that is completely in tune with my personal values”. It was all bluster and bluffing, patting himself on the back literally and figuratively to tell himself that his choices hadn’t directly affected anyone’s lives. At least no one he knew personally. Which should be more than enough, right?

“This has to have made a difference, right?” he’d asked, after they’d escaped the rubble of the undercity leading to Sector 8.

He’d laughed. He’d blown off the casualties. He’d told himself that comfortable lie that “Shinra dogs get what they deserve”. And still, this rotten feeling had suffused every corner of his mind. He was no better than the splinter cells of Avalanche running around in their balaclavas and old militia berets, wielding machinery created for a single purpose: to kill as many living things as possible within range. 

Alcohol helped all that go down easier when he had to throw in with Jessie, Barrett and Wedge, but they were always bottles that were never paid for in gil. Merely expected as part of the cost of being a member of the team, even if said member had been ruthlessly singled out due to her adherence to ethics and morality. And in his opinion, Tifa deserved better than that. She housed them, fed them, put her livelihood on the line keeping their dirty secrets. And Biggs had repaid her by keeping his mouth shut when it really counted, hadn’t even stuck up for her once. 

He didn’t want to be a bad friend. He didn’t want to be a bad person, period, but it might be too late for even that kind of wishful thinking.

The sun lamps near blinded him as he walked out from under the shade of an awning, taking the side porch around Seventh Heaven to try and catch Tifa before her filter changing rounds. Lucky for him, she was in house and seemed to be busying herself with opening the curtains and doing some last minute adjustments to the table settings.

“Knock Knock,” he called out, rapping scarred knuckles against one of the window panes and giving Lockhart a brief wave in greeting.

With any hope, he wouldn’t immediately jam his foot into his own mouth.

[matchstickmobster]

send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

[Unknown number]: So, who do u like more? [Unknown number]: syke, i already kno its Tifa [Unknown number]: i guess i wouldnt mind a gal who can benchpress me hehehehe [Unknown number]: shit u ignorin me???

[holyguardian]

“hey aer,” she comes up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist. “i bought a bag of potatoes,” she whispers in aerith’s ear, trying to sound seductive. “and i’m gonna make doughnuts out of them…warm them up and dip them in cinnamon and sugar.” tifa kisses her cheek before pulling away. “happy birthday.”

Oh, Aerith already know this was going to be good. Being wrapped up in Tifa's arms meant a warm contentment, of feeling love and life, a grounding touch that whispered of what a home felt like.

Then she whispered about potatoes. It took all of her willpower not to burst into a fit of laughter then and there, but the silent shudder was an obvious one. The seduction was working in a way. Aerith was delighted, on the precipice of those loud, squeaking laughs that meant something had truly gotten to her.

Though Tifa was a merciful heart, sparing her the staggering laughter - for now. "Dip you in cinnamon and sugar." Aerith murmured. In suggestion? A threat? Who knew as the spring-clad flower girl whisked around to capture her in a squeezing little hug.