World's End - Yuffie/Tifa
Title: World's End
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Yuffie/Tifa
Prompt: Alien/foreign
Rating: PG
Words: 500
Spoilers: Really mild ones, for end of disc 2
The wind never stops up here.
That's what gets to Yuffie the most, that wind - thin and cold and lonely, and the unnerving, irrational certainty that this place wants them gone. She can't say she blames it. They're the outsiders here, the intruders, and it's no surprise to her that the Planet wants its own back. Hell, she doesn't want to be here either.
The atmosphere is charged with mako, literally crackling with it, and there are places where if she looks out over the edge of their path, where the ground drops off into sheer nothing, she can see down until the cliff walls seem to meet and everything fades into a green glow. She had tried to drop a rock over the edge on the way up here, just to see if it ever hit bottom, but Tifa stopped her with a hand on her wrist and a firm “no.” Tifa is no fun. No sense of scientific inquiry at all.
Yuffie hugs her arms around her knees, huffs out a white cloud of condensation that hangs in the air like dragon smoke. She should have brought heavier clothing. Fire materia is useful, and she's got enough finesse to apply it for warmth without burning herself to a cinder, but it's too draining to keep up for long, and she can feel the body heat escaping through her coat.
Then again, the Turks hadn't exactly given them time to pack.
Godsdammnit.
She's so intent on that damn wind that she doesn't even notice there's company until a shadow falls across the ground beside her. Tifa again, back from reconnaissance, and for a second she looks just as cold and exhausted as Yuffie feels. Then the cheerful smile is back, that fierce upward curve of the lips that always leaves Yuffie a bit breathless. The one she knows is fake.
“You doing OK?”
“Aside from freezing my butt off in the ass-end of nowhere, sure.” She brushes frost from her bangs, gives Tifa a one-shouldered shrug. “I'll grant you one thing. This is still better than that rustbucket Cid calls a ship.”
Tifa laughs, but it sounds a little strained and fades too quickly, like her voice is being carried away on the wind.
“Hey Tif?” Yuffie says.
“Yeah?”
You think we're gonna make it back?
But she doesn't say that. It's a stupid question, and besides, Tifa would only lie.
“Sit down,” she says. “This fire sucks, but it's better than nothing.” She hesitates a little, then digs into her materia pouch. “I've got a mastered Fire, if you want it.”
“I think I'll be alright,” Tifa says, and sits with a small, tired sigh. After a moment, Yuffie scoots over, rests her head on Tifa's shoulder. Tifa wraps an arm around her, pulls her closer, and North Crater or not, everything is right.
“You know,” she says quietly, “I think maybe we all will.”
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Yuffie/Tifa
Prompt: Alien/foreign
Rating: PG
Words: 500
Spoilers: Really mild ones, for end of disc 2
The wind never stops up here.
That's what gets to Yuffie the most, that wind - thin and cold and lonely, and the unnerving, irrational certainty that this place wants them gone. She can't say she blames it. They're the outsiders here, the intruders, and it's no surprise to her that the Planet wants its own back. Hell, she doesn't want to be here either.
The atmosphere is charged with mako, literally crackling with it, and there are places where if she looks out over the edge of their path, where the ground drops off into sheer nothing, she can see down until the cliff walls seem to meet and everything fades into a green glow. She had tried to drop a rock over the edge on the way up here, just to see if it ever hit bottom, but Tifa stopped her with a hand on her wrist and a firm “no.” Tifa is no fun. No sense of scientific inquiry at all.
Yuffie hugs her arms around her knees, huffs out a white cloud of condensation that hangs in the air like dragon smoke. She should have brought heavier clothing. Fire materia is useful, and she's got enough finesse to apply it for warmth without burning herself to a cinder, but it's too draining to keep up for long, and she can feel the body heat escaping through her coat.
Then again, the Turks hadn't exactly given them time to pack.
Godsdammnit.
She's so intent on that damn wind that she doesn't even notice there's company until a shadow falls across the ground beside her. Tifa again, back from reconnaissance, and for a second she looks just as cold and exhausted as Yuffie feels. Then the cheerful smile is back, that fierce upward curve of the lips that always leaves Yuffie a bit breathless. The one she knows is fake.
“You doing OK?”
“Aside from freezing my butt off in the ass-end of nowhere, sure.” She brushes frost from her bangs, gives Tifa a one-shouldered shrug. “I'll grant you one thing. This is still better than that rustbucket Cid calls a ship.”
Tifa laughs, but it sounds a little strained and fades too quickly, like her voice is being carried away on the wind.
“Hey Tif?” Yuffie says.
“Yeah?”
You think we're gonna make it back?
But she doesn't say that. It's a stupid question, and besides, Tifa would only lie.
“Sit down,” she says. “This fire sucks, but it's better than nothing.” She hesitates a little, then digs into her materia pouch. “I've got a mastered Fire, if you want it.”
“I think I'll be alright,” Tifa says, and sits with a small, tired sigh. After a moment, Yuffie scoots over, rests her head on Tifa's shoulder. Tifa wraps an arm around her, pulls her closer, and North Crater or not, everything is right.
“You know,” she says quietly, “I think maybe we all will.”