(no subject)
Who: Tifa, Barret.
Status: Open!
When: 7:00 AM.
Where: Seventh Heaven (Edge).
What: After opening Seventh Heaven, Tifa lounges around the restaurant to wait for various people to show up.
The quiet wake of morning, peeking just over the horizon, had Tifa up and awake long before she needed to be. Before the sun had even rolled across the distant skies, up into a backdrop of steady night, and there was nothing but black, but she had been there, framing a silent picture from the second story floor of Seventh Heaven. She had stood at her window, fingers pressed gently against the cool pane of the glass, peering out into the dark skies that stood heavy and strong just before her. She waited for the clouds of inky black to part, to make room for the watery rays of sunshine, and she didn't move - not exactly - until it happened, an hour or so later.
There was some odd sense of comfort that tended to wash over her, whenever morning came. She wasn't exactly sure why. Of course, there were always the more obvious reasons. Morning brought new beginnings, new starts, and new openings -- for her, for everyone she ever knew and cared about. Morning brought an air of mystery, an air of not knowing, and though that frightened most, it was something she looked upon with a bit of hope. After all, that air of not knowing, of not being certain, left plenty of space for her to make adjustments where she saw fit. To change the things she didn't like, she didn't agree with, to something better suited for the quiet world of crumbling existence that lay all around her.
But, ah. Tifa had never been one for pessimism, had she?
Now, bits and pieces of light were scattered all along the bottom floor of the restaurant, hitting the polished wood of the bar at odd angles and sending glittering rays bouncing across the room to reach the crystal glasses on their shelves. Tifa sat at one of the tables near the middle of the room, elbows propped up on the hard surface with a pencil between two fingers as she gazed down at the sheet of paper (filled with numbers and figures) directly below her line of vision. She was finding it a bit hard, however, to really concentrate on anything (especially when that "anything" concerned mathematics), with how preoccupied her mind seemed to be lately.
But that was understandable, she thought. With how much was going on, with how much she wasn't really sure of, wasn't aware of, was constantly worrying about, it made sense that she wouldn't exactly be in a "buckle down and do your work" sort of mood. She'd try, of course, but every second she did was one more second her mind would wander, and she'd have to bring herself back, have to pull herself back to the point of reality, shoulders tensing a bit as dark eyes blinked from behind a hazy focus.
Sighing softly, she let the pencil slide from her fingers and hit the table with a clatter that echoed in the empty room. Bare fingers worked their way through damp, brown hair, before they were moving down a bit, tapping lightly against her chin in quiet thought.
Worried. Yes. Maybe.
Though, really, when wasn't she?
Status: Open!
When: 7:00 AM.
Where: Seventh Heaven (Edge).
What: After opening Seventh Heaven, Tifa lounges around the restaurant to wait for various people to show up.
The quiet wake of morning, peeking just over the horizon, had Tifa up and awake long before she needed to be. Before the sun had even rolled across the distant skies, up into a backdrop of steady night, and there was nothing but black, but she had been there, framing a silent picture from the second story floor of Seventh Heaven. She had stood at her window, fingers pressed gently against the cool pane of the glass, peering out into the dark skies that stood heavy and strong just before her. She waited for the clouds of inky black to part, to make room for the watery rays of sunshine, and she didn't move - not exactly - until it happened, an hour or so later.
There was some odd sense of comfort that tended to wash over her, whenever morning came. She wasn't exactly sure why. Of course, there were always the more obvious reasons. Morning brought new beginnings, new starts, and new openings -- for her, for everyone she ever knew and cared about. Morning brought an air of mystery, an air of not knowing, and though that frightened most, it was something she looked upon with a bit of hope. After all, that air of not knowing, of not being certain, left plenty of space for her to make adjustments where she saw fit. To change the things she didn't like, she didn't agree with, to something better suited for the quiet world of crumbling existence that lay all around her.
But, ah. Tifa had never been one for pessimism, had she?
Now, bits and pieces of light were scattered all along the bottom floor of the restaurant, hitting the polished wood of the bar at odd angles and sending glittering rays bouncing across the room to reach the crystal glasses on their shelves. Tifa sat at one of the tables near the middle of the room, elbows propped up on the hard surface with a pencil between two fingers as she gazed down at the sheet of paper (filled with numbers and figures) directly below her line of vision. She was finding it a bit hard, however, to really concentrate on anything (especially when that "anything" concerned mathematics), with how preoccupied her mind seemed to be lately.
But that was understandable, she thought. With how much was going on, with how much she wasn't really sure of, wasn't aware of, was constantly worrying about, it made sense that she wouldn't exactly be in a "buckle down and do your work" sort of mood. She'd try, of course, but every second she did was one more second her mind would wander, and she'd have to bring herself back, have to pull herself back to the point of reality, shoulders tensing a bit as dark eyes blinked from behind a hazy focus.
Sighing softly, she let the pencil slide from her fingers and hit the table with a clatter that echoed in the empty room. Bare fingers worked their way through damp, brown hair, before they were moving down a bit, tapping lightly against her chin in quiet thought.
Worried. Yes. Maybe.
Though, really, when wasn't she?