gladiolus:

@holydrive

The wind sang sharp and shrill as it slipped through the crack of the window that no longer rolled all the way up. The trucks shocks had worn ago a decade ago, it seemed, for how rough the ride was on (relatively) even pavement. But the errant vibrations were mild enough in Gladio’s exhausted state to lull him into a fitful nap, head abutted to the cold of the window. 

He woke to the sound of the truck door opening, though not in the flooding light of Lestallum’s street lamps. The porter was due to transport a shipment of munitions to the next camp over, and this was the end of the road, as far as Gladio’s hitched ride was concerned. It was only just outside the periphery gates. No big deal to walk the quarter mile to the stronghold. So he hopped out with a wave, and wove his way through the road littered with rotting cars, towards the portcullis that led to Lestallum proper.

He heard the urgency in the cry and took off into a maddening sprint to find it. The greatsword materialized in his hand in a flash of bright blue, his fingers closing hard about the grip as he drew the blade back and flung it into the daemon’s spine. Gladio warped behind it, the heel of his boot slamming into the beast’s back to dislodge the weapon half buried within it, swinging the enormous blade in an upward arc aimed at the nape of its neck. 

The wound wasn’t enough to kill it. Hardly even maim it. Hissing a swear, Gladio let the blade disintegrate as he leapt off the daemon’s back to land on the broken concrete with an ungainly thud. He scrambled to his feet, racing around the enormous legs to snatch the girl up from concrete and hoist her over his shoulder. The portcullis to Lestallum’s main entrance gave a stentorian groan as it opened, two glaives already running past them, dispatched to finish off the daemon. 

Gladio hurtled through the narrow alleyway, weaving through the crowd and up the stairs to where the triage area was. An empty cot caught his eye, and it was on this that he laid her as gently as he was able, eager to look her over himself—and he caught sight of a flash of crimson, a scent he couldn’t name but that set his stomach turning in a familiar, if long-forgotten measure.

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“Tifa?” he asked, his voice a sere whisper as he registered his surprise. “Shit, are you okay? What are you doing here? Stupid question, I know what you’re doing here.” He sat back on his heels, letting the wave of relief and recognition wash over him. “It’s been a long time. Never thought I’d see you here.”

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   the beast wails when it’s impaled && it feels like she can breathe for a moment, despite her airways being cut off from the strength of its weight. the defender appeared to have damaged it some, but not nearly enough to make progress. suddenly, she’s scooped up, thrown over a strong shoulder && he’s running as fast as he can. the wounds on her body throb && ache from the shifting && she has to bite back any sounds of pain. acknowledging it only makes it worse, she’s learned over the past decade, having to survive on her own.

   they make it past the Lestallum gates && there’s some relief, although her worry doubles for the glaives that move out to finish it. she can barely keep track of where they’re going. there’s an alleyway, some stairs. triage? ah. movement ceases some && she’s set down carefully, hissing && groaning at the way the clawed skin on her side stretches. hand immediately goes to it, applies pressure to help with the stinging pain. but, then– crimson eyes catch on to something.

   brown hair, shoulder length. scars on the left side of his face. and– an unmistakable tattoo to go along with an unforgettable voice.

   she looks at him, disbelief written all over the woman’s face, memories from a past she declared dead resurfacing. “G… Gl-Gladiolus?” comes a tiny whisper to match his. there’s fears forming in her eyes, her breaths laboured. she watches him carefully, he’s gotten older, much more world-worn than the man she fell in love with so long ago. she sits up with a gasp and a wince, holding onto her side.

   she can’t believe it. it doesn’t register fully in her brain. there’s so many things that she wants to say, so many things she wants to ask. all she can come up with is:

   “I thought… I th-thought you were dead!!” and it’s tearful and full of despair.

  1. ofnibelheim reblogged this from praesidioest
  2. praesidioest reblogged this from ofnibelheim
  3. ofmeteor-archive posted this

loyalty

a fighter who has defied death itself, stared it in its face and laughed.

pain

ind. sel. final fantasy vii. tifa lockhart.

hope

est. dec. 2018 // roleplaying of 8 years.