#verse. ac.

[makoblue]

SEND A WORD AND I WILL WRITE A DRABBLE ABOUT OUR MUSES

@heavensfists​ asked: EARLY

Sleep prickles the corner of his eyes, a sharp and unpleasant sensation dragging across the delicate, bruised skin under his eyes. Cloud rolls over in his bed onto his stomach and cranes his neck to squint at his nightstand. The digital clock, threatening, stares back at him in glaring crimson. 5:21 AM. He turns over onto his back, willing the leaden feeling in his legs to subside while time continues to ominously crawl forward and the ceiling fan bounces air off the spiky ends of his hair.

If he closes his eyes, Cloud swears he can still see the charts and geography he pored over the night before burned into the back of his eyelids. Remembering the evening past makes his neck hurt.

It takes the smell of freshly ground coffee to coax a reluctant man out of his bed. He can get dressed later-- after he feels something like a human being again.

With one hand loosely on the guardrail and the other rubbing the grains from his eye, Cloud follows the scent of Tifa’s freshly brewed coffee down to the bar counter. Half his mouth curves sheepishly upward into a smile; it’s always like this when she knows he stays up late plotting his delivery routes. Unlike her, Cloud Strife looks altogether unkempt. He looks down at himself, at the wrinkled gray t-shirt over his chest and the hastily thrown-on pair of loose cotton shorts, well-worn and only a few loose navy threads away from being described as threadbare. 

Tifa doesn’t even look up, humming something along the lines of ‘good morning’ as unwashed glasses clink together under the running water in the stainless steel sink basin. She must relish these rare opportunities to wake up before him, long before either Marlene or Denzel would ever find their way downstairs in time for breakfast. They’ll be upset later, knowing that she didn’t wake them up to see him off.

He slides onto the nearest bar stool, upholstered in shiny black leather. Recently oiled. The surface is soft to the touch and gleams in the gloomy light of dawn creeping in through the windows of 7th Heaven from where he grips the edge of the seat for a moment’s balance. A mug of coffee slides across the counter and under his nose before he even has a chance to open his mouth.

Cloud murmurs his thanks with a smile hidden behind a cautious sip of the steaming hot liquid creeping over the edge of the mug that he tips back. He doesn’t have long now if he intends to make good time on his deliveries this week.

“I’ll call you,” he promises.

[makoblue]

@heavensfists --

early mornings. this is when she realizes that they both seem to have a moment for themselves before the chaos of the day catches up to them. before rechecking routes for deliveries; before going downstairs to start breakfast and the last minute prep before the lunch rush; before kids have eaten and brushed their teeth and are dressed, they have this - a handful of minutes that can possibly sum up to less than an hour where they're alone.

one bathroom is tight for four, sometimes five, people living under one roof, but they've managed. she hears the faucet going and knows that he's already up, beginning his day. tifa doesn't shy away when she lets herself in and closes the door behind her. reaching for her toothbrush from its cup, she wets it before adding toothpaste onto the bristles.

it's such a mundane thing, perhaps even inconsequential, and she can hear denzel's voice in her head telling her about the importance of dental hygiene as if it's the most important topic in the world. technically, he's not wrong, but the thought almost makes her sputter out a laugh and it's obvious that she's trying to suppress a grin.

before she begins brushing her teeth, she looks at cloud and that almost grin turns into a soft smile; she can see their reflection in the mirror from the corner of her eye.

"you know i love you, right?" she says and leans a little closer to kiss him on the cheek before starting her morning routine.

Routines are comforting. A sequence of well-planned, predictable events. Predictable means normal. As close to normal as their little mismatched family can get.

Cloud is half-staring at the network of water stains on the mirror when he notices Tifa is looking at him while she’s brushing her teeth. Scrub scrub scrub. He smiles back at her through the minty foam that collects around the corners of his mouth and a toothbrush that doesn’t quite stop moving.

That’s not fair. His brow furrows, his hands and face are still occupied. He can’t reciprocate without making a fool of himself. Cloud finishes his two minutes of mandated brushing, rinses, and gives Tifa a little frown to make his displeasure known. “Could’ve waited ‘til I finished,” he grumbles, resting a hand at the small of her back and leaning over to press a kiss against the back of her neck while she washes her face. “I love you too,” Cloud says back, allowing the warmth of his words to ghost over her skin. He hopes it tickles.

Leaning back, he gives her a neat, playful pat on the seat of her pants and makes for the door. “See you downstairs.”

[makoblue]

@dreamingsoldier​-- ❛  03 .   a  kiss  after  a  long  time  apart . 

For her sake, he’s learned. Once the water had receded, and all the remains is a gaping hole where once was a bed of pale lilies. Loose top soil has been poured in, transplanted from the area around Elmyra and Aerith’s old home in Sector 6. The soil there is still good. Even after Meteorfall, plants and flowers continue to thrive. Green sprouts poking out of small crevices, vines crawling up along the walls of the dilapidated house, wildflowers, swaying their heads every so often with a passing breeze. Young lilies as well, with baby stems just poking out of the earth.

Perhaps with her help he manages to somehow form the early beginnings of a new flower bed. There are other flowers too: daffodils, snowdrops, tulips, hyacinths. Still dormant, not yet ready to feel their first rays of sun. He is an attentive minder nonetheless, watering the soil and ensuring it never fully dries out. A haphazardly stacked set in gardening books sits on the edge of a nearby pew and tools. Small spades, gloves, a bag of fertilizer, a shovel.

At times, he can hardly believe it. The flowers in the garden are at varying stages of growth. A few have even bloomed, adding a splash of color to the otherwise mix of browns and greens not yet filled out by mature plants.

He’s in the middle of hollowing out several pockets in the ground for new flowers when he hears a creak running along the floorboards behind him. Cloud rubs away an itch on his forehead with the back of his hand as he rises to his feet and prepares to greet his guest. It’s not unusual for his friends to find him at the church most days when he’s not running deliveries.

One-handed, Cloud brushes off some of the dirt clinging to his knees and looks up with a smile half-formed. “Hey, Tifa. I’m nearly done for today--”

It’s not Tifa.

The spade slips from his fingers and drops onto the dirt with a dull thud. Maybe he somehow managed to get dirt in his eye, his vision is smeared with something-- nothing changes after blinking a few times and allowing dumb shock to settle on his face. The specter is still standing there, looking back at him.

Zack!

 He’s too scared to say the other man’s name out loud, as if that might somehow disturb the illusion. His task abandoned, Cloud breaks into a run across the church. Towards where the light escapes inside through heavy oak doors, where Zack stands haloed by sunlight. He’s always thought, if he ever had a second chance...Cloud practically crashes into Zack’s chest.

His arms are thrown around the other man’s neck, pulling him down and kissing him desperately. He’s here. He’s real.

[makoblue]

 @blitzrod-- “well, i guess that’s broken.”

Domestic humdrum is at a standstill. Task forces, some effective, some not, were raised to help with displacement, food, fossil-fuel vehicles, basic lighting instruments, generating power.

‘Growing pains,’ Barret had called it. Now Cid and Reeve were working around the clock to restore some semblance of modern society.

And amidst all this, Cloud just so happened to run a newly minted delivery service. He’s now on a trip almost halfway across the world to deliver an unassuming manila folder which Reno keeps on his person at all times as though it’s a stack of gold bullions. By no stretch of imagination did Cloud have any desire whatsoever to see Rufus’s dirty laundry.

Not to mention that he would have to bring Reno back when this is all said and done...Or perhaps not. Rufus’s terms hadn’t exactly been detailed down to the very letter. Life would have been so much easier if he didn’t have to take Reno along. 

“Thanks.” Sarcasm drips like acid off a single, uttered word. The top of Cloud’s head is just barely visible from the other side of Fenrir. There’s a low, unhealthy coil whine when ever he applies the throttle.

Neither party is trusting. Given their past history, Cloud is not surprised that Rufus would choose to send one of his Turks along for such a sensitive parcel. With society having sworn off mako power, however, the young President’s options for transportation and shipping were severely limited. Cloud Strife, whether either of them liked it or not, is his best option.

Finally defeated by the mystery of whatever ails his motorcycle, the blond concedes with a long sigh. He rises to his feet while dusting off blackened soot from his hands. Rubbing his brow with the back of one hand, Cloud leans over to review an old, printed map left open on top of Fenrir’s leather seat. At present, they’re just fifty miles out from Rocket Town.

Too far to walk, too close to give up.

 “We can move off to the side of the road. Make camp for now until it’s light enough for me to take a closer look.”

[makoblue]

send 👂 to overhear my muse talking about yours.

For the moment, he and Nanaki are alone while Tifa goes to pay her respects to Bugenhagen.

"If not for her, I wouldn't be here." Cloud tips back a wooden jug of hot tea made from spiced citrus and herbs; the local specialty 'Cosmo Candle' in Cosmo Canyon.

There is no Cloud Strife without Tifa, just a disjointed mess of an identity crisis that happens to look like Cloud. "I don't know..." he trails off, brows furrowed as he peers down at the various bits of pulp and loose leaves floating about in his drink.

Nanaki watches him patiently. One red furry ear flicks briefly behinds him, but Cloud dismisses the action as a natural reflex to some environmental stimuli. "Sometimes I wish I could give her the world. Whatever she wants. Anything." Cloud rubs the side of his neck, closing his eyes to feel the warmth of the bonfire on his eyelids. He smiles wryly. "But...for her, just being with me is enough. Maybe that's something I'll never understand."