gladiolus:

He blushed at her recognition, mostly due to the full appellation of his name. Gladiolus. Not Gladio. Or Glad. It’s not like they’d been strangers. Tifa had been one of the few girls he’d gotten along well enough to date properly, and while the reason they’d broken up had been nearly ten years forgotten now, the fact was he still thought fondly of her, evidenced by the wide, warm smile with which he greeted her. 

“Not sure if I should be offended by your lack of faith in me,” he quipped, cradling the back of her head in a broad hand, the other already at her shoulder, pushing her down to lay still upon the cot. An attempt at lightheartedness, just to keep her spirits up. “Thought you knew I’m pretty hard to knock down. Guess I never impressed you enough with all those months of sparring.” 

He noticed then the wound at her side, her palms pressed to it to stave off the flow of blood. How had he not seen that? Panicked, his gaze swept the area for anyone coming to their aid, and saw every triage worker in attendance of someone in a state worse than Tifa’s. It would be a while, evidently. 

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked gently, grinning down at her as his rough-hewn thumb dared swipe the budding tears from her lashes. The pads of his fingers were torn and sere, snagging rudely at the delicate skin, and he hated himself for the blunder. 

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“You’re okay. We’re okay. Listen, we’re gonna have to sit tight here. Do you think you trust me enough to have a look at it? While we wait. And you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to since you we broke each other’s hearts.”

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   his hand against the back of her skull, the other at her shoulder, he carefully lays her down and she can’t help the pained cry that escapes her lips, causes her eyes to shut tightly and her whole body to spasm for just a brief moment. it rocks through every nerve, every cell, it’s a hell of lot more worse than it looks. as off as it may seem, she’s eased slightly when he points out the wound, it’s a lot easier to deal with in comparison to Gladiolus being alive.

   “heard that the king and prince were dead when we all fled Insomnia… tried getting a hold of you, tried your number so many times.” she sniffles, looks up at him only for her eyes to close again with a weak laugh. “y’mean all of the times i let you win?” a calloused finger against skin, it still sends chills down her spine after all of these years; she’s never been able to move on from it, still remembers the last time they met– how their relationship came to an end, how her heart broke that day but she kept hope that he’d come back. who would’ve thought it would be ten years later?

   he asks her if she trusts him enough to look and she would laugh again if it wasn’t for the dizziness beginning to make itself known. “of course, i trust you… always have,” she murmurs, but is still hesitant to let her hands go. the pressure is easing the claws that had dug into her side, from beneath her rib cage to the beginning of her hip.

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   “we had to, remember?” she whispers quietly, swallows the cotton in her throat, looks at him with tired and world-worn eyes. “y’had to help noctis… get to his wedding. didn’t know how long it’d take for your journey,” a wince cuts her off as she removes a bloodied hand, a small grunt stuck in her throat. “said we’d figure it out when you came back…” a hiss when the stagnant yet cool air hits the wounded flesh, cream-toned skin stained red. the remaining hand spreads extremities and her head pushes back into the thin pillow when green tendrils of light lick at the wound while she tries to cast the weakest form of Cure. however, the healing dies down and she almost lets out sob, just wants the pain to end, physically and mentally.

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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.