Day 48: Courtyard

[thatdamnedninja]

"I could tell you some stories," Yuffie suggested brightly, "of unquestionable legality." Illegality, that was. Petty little things like the law didn't usually mean very much to her, except for the times when she had to uphold it. Always fun for the breaking, though, the law, and messy for the clean-up. Just the way she liked it

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[dreadofthegrave]

That, huh...? Battler was more than aware of the details; how couldn't he be? There was no erasing the glimpses of that cruel, harsh world as her blood seeped into his back. ... He could still cry over everything. Every subtle reminder didn't get better with time. But that was useless, especially with her standing right in front of him. There was no way that their pain measured up; his own was only second-hand. For her, everything had to be much, much worse, and if she could hold up under all of that weight, who was he to scream over it, especially when so much could have been prevented...? It was more than a struggle to stop himself from yelling out something stupid, about how it was okay if she cried, that there would be nothing wrong with releasing those painful feelings. Somehow, her composure made that even worse. If he could just do that for both of them, then he gladly would, not caring what sort of scene he caused as he screamed, but... Neither could. Not under these pretenses.

As it was, he could only offer a sad, bitter smile. "No allies, huh...? I wonder. Sometimes they're closer than you might think. That sort of thing has definitely happened to me before." Even Ange herself was one of those instances. If he stopped to think about it, he really did get help from bizarre places. Even enemies weren't excluded.

It was stupid, but her next words felt like nothing but weight being lifted off of his shoulders. It was like a confirmation that they could continue this way, and carry all of that without getting knocked down. That was his feeling, at least. "Ihi, glad to hear that. Life is something that should be treasured, isn't it?"

Battler also paused, and with a firmness in his gaze, he offered his right hand. He remembered her declining something like this before, but this was something other than a simple greeting. Instead, it signaled that that this was as far as they went as near-strangers. Whether she accepted or not, that was laid out plainly, and that was all that he needed to get across. ... It was all he could do, to slowly cut across that distance of twelve years.

[finalwitch]

His responses grew only stranger; they were answers one would normally expect from eternal optimists...or people who sincerely cared. Ange found herself at a loss. Seriously, what was up with this guy? Did he feel some sort of obligation to Greta for looking like his sister? Of course, it was really her in this case, but that did nothing in terms of explaining his behavior. Couldn't he keep apart one from the other even if they were the same person in technicalities?

The paradox went unappreciated, but she supposed she could give Battler a benefit of a doubt. Ange edged closer to the young man, restrained curiosity lacing her countenance. "You talk like you went to Hell and back." Literally, perhaps. "Must have been a harsh experience, if you're serious."

Ange happened to glance down just as the hand extended out to her, and again, her face betrayed. Every disappointment, want, and fear rose to the surface-- She might as well have confessed right then if not for the one constant in her mind, knowing they couldn't extend beyond superficial pleasantries. Again, it disappeared, and without extra prompting, the girl drew out her right to touch his.

[dreadofthegrave]

That statement struck a chord in Battler, enough that he was almost taken aback. For some reason, he couldn't tell if there was some hidden message in those words, or just a bit of unintended irony. Maybe it was both; even he had been doing that during the course of their conversation. It wasn't something intentional, just an unfortunate side-effect of what he was desperately trying to keep internal. Could it be the same for her?

"Hell? ... That may be accurate. That's what you'd normally call a sentence to eternal torture, isn't it? But a place like that is nothing but damnation and resignation. It's something else entirely, knowing that chain can be cut even though you can't quite reach it. But even so, that hope isn't something I can't let go of. I can only stumble forward, believing I can grasp onto it." It was something one would normally expect to hear with a certain sense of resignation, but that was something Battler lacked. There was certainly pain and sadness, but also an undeniable sense of confidence, as though he could create the result himself.

He had to swallow thickly when he saw her expression, pausing internally, almost wondering if he was going about this the wrong way, but it was too late to question the decision. At this point, slow steps forward were the best that could managed. Instead of pausing to overthink things, he took the hand he was offered firmly, only breaking away when there was a sense of mutuality to it.