(no subject)
Who: Tifa Lockhart, anybody else (open)
What: First post. Also, drowning.
Where: Entrance to Spiral City
When: Probably about mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG
Open: Yep
Funny how these things creep up.
Running a bar meant constant mingling, near-constant physical contact with people who may or may not be strangers, and more than anything, the need to be constantly "up". Up to mixing drinks, up to friendly banter, up to smiling coquettishly and letting the compliments and the rude comments slide off. In Midgar, everybody had known Tifa. Everybody had known her friendly disposition and her beauty, sure, but everybody also knew her willingness to break knuckles and breathe smoke like men twice her age didn't dare - it made it hard, starting over, starting over in a place where people didn't know not to grab at you or call you 'little girly' or break your fucking shot glasses to prove a point because they thought you wouldn't throw them on their backend in the street's rainwater. It was hard having to prove yourself, over and over again, just so people knew to treat you with a touch of respect and maybe, just maybe, talk to your face instead of your breasts.
Mostly, it was hard to start over in a place by yourself, holding yourself up, with nobody to hold you up. Tifa had always been good at it, but it was by no means easy.
Marlene and Denzel, Tifa's foster children, had finally found homes that weren't with her. Denzel's maternal grandmother, a lady he'd never met but had the right papers and more money than Tifa could ever hope for, had arrived one day to spirit him away with a definite air of disapproval. Denzel hadn't wanted to leave, but Tifa, for all her knowledge of pressure points and defensive strikes, had learned long ago you can't simply fight money and influence. It would also be a lie to say she didn't want him to be with his family, but had stubbornly thought that this family was her. Denzel promised to visit, but she wasn't so sure.
Barrett's energy mining company had taken off with the fervor only an outfit headed by somebody very big and not exactly opposed to intimidating "partners" into "contracts" could; that meant money for schooling and a home to call their own. He had invited Tifa, but she had the bar. Marlene hadn't cried when she left, and Tifa was partly thankful - that meant she didn't cry, either. Part of her had wanted to, though, when she returned to the empty house, bereft of stuffed animals and hair ribbons, and realized she was now twenty-four and her nest was already empty.
There was an unexplained hole in her life, though, one that had been there before but had always thought to send word, even if that word was brief and terse or maybe even just to say "screw you". There's only so much you could mother a fully-grown man, but friendly concern had never hurt anybody. Promises extend, she now knew, both ways.
The next day, she'd left for the church.
It was a fair hike across town, and though it had been about six months, it stood untouched and resilient, though untended. Bright yellow and white flowers now spread unchecked, accompanying vines and weeds pushing up the floorboards like crooked teeth. This struck her as odd - no matter how long he stayed away, he'd always taken care of the flowers. Under the weight of mounting worry she wasn't sure she should be having, Tifa decided a rest was in order. She had taken off her shoes, feet tender despite callouses from long months adventuring in heavy boots, and let them dangle in the small pocket of water in the destroyed portion of the church's floorboards. It was relaxing for about ten seconds.
Then it pulled her under.
She's still not sure what exactly happened, if something had grabbed her or she'd slipped and fallen. There was water, calm save but for ripples created by her slight movement, the flexing of toes, and then a great splash and fighting for air. There was a struggle, and then nothing but blue, and the shocked sting of water at the back of her throat, her lungs. The skylight was still visible even from here... that one ray that usually fell on the flowers, did it get brighter, or was it simply a phantom illusion, brought on by a dying brain? Was she simply drowning?
Tifa did the only thing that seemed natural. She reached out to it.
It reached back.
--------------------
She wasn't sure how she came to be here, and for those who were watching, it still wasn't clear. One moment the gate surrounding the main entrance - the stairway - on the side near the tenements was empty, save for perhaps one or two people leaning near it, talking, perhaps smoking. Maybe a person walking in front of them had blocked their vision for a moment.
Then, the next, there was a woman dressed in black, coughing, slouched against it. More notably, she was soaking wet, and not entirely conscious. Breath rattling, she hauls herself up to a sitting position, and coughs to the side.
There was nobody quite close enough to see, but a faint glimmer - maybe greenish-blue - dripped away with the water, against the ground, and was gone.
Maybe there actually was somebody holding her up, after all.
((thanks, Cloudmun :D))
What: First post. Also, drowning.
Where: Entrance to Spiral City
When: Probably about mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG
Open: Yep
Funny how these things creep up.
Running a bar meant constant mingling, near-constant physical contact with people who may or may not be strangers, and more than anything, the need to be constantly "up". Up to mixing drinks, up to friendly banter, up to smiling coquettishly and letting the compliments and the rude comments slide off. In Midgar, everybody had known Tifa. Everybody had known her friendly disposition and her beauty, sure, but everybody also knew her willingness to break knuckles and breathe smoke like men twice her age didn't dare - it made it hard, starting over, starting over in a place where people didn't know not to grab at you or call you 'little girly' or break your fucking shot glasses to prove a point because they thought you wouldn't throw them on their backend in the street's rainwater. It was hard having to prove yourself, over and over again, just so people knew to treat you with a touch of respect and maybe, just maybe, talk to your face instead of your breasts.
Mostly, it was hard to start over in a place by yourself, holding yourself up, with nobody to hold you up. Tifa had always been good at it, but it was by no means easy.
Marlene and Denzel, Tifa's foster children, had finally found homes that weren't with her. Denzel's maternal grandmother, a lady he'd never met but had the right papers and more money than Tifa could ever hope for, had arrived one day to spirit him away with a definite air of disapproval. Denzel hadn't wanted to leave, but Tifa, for all her knowledge of pressure points and defensive strikes, had learned long ago you can't simply fight money and influence. It would also be a lie to say she didn't want him to be with his family, but had stubbornly thought that this family was her. Denzel promised to visit, but she wasn't so sure.
Barrett's energy mining company had taken off with the fervor only an outfit headed by somebody very big and not exactly opposed to intimidating "partners" into "contracts" could; that meant money for schooling and a home to call their own. He had invited Tifa, but she had the bar. Marlene hadn't cried when she left, and Tifa was partly thankful - that meant she didn't cry, either. Part of her had wanted to, though, when she returned to the empty house, bereft of stuffed animals and hair ribbons, and realized she was now twenty-four and her nest was already empty.
There was an unexplained hole in her life, though, one that had been there before but had always thought to send word, even if that word was brief and terse or maybe even just to say "screw you". There's only so much you could mother a fully-grown man, but friendly concern had never hurt anybody. Promises extend, she now knew, both ways.
The next day, she'd left for the church.
It was a fair hike across town, and though it had been about six months, it stood untouched and resilient, though untended. Bright yellow and white flowers now spread unchecked, accompanying vines and weeds pushing up the floorboards like crooked teeth. This struck her as odd - no matter how long he stayed away, he'd always taken care of the flowers. Under the weight of mounting worry she wasn't sure she should be having, Tifa decided a rest was in order. She had taken off her shoes, feet tender despite callouses from long months adventuring in heavy boots, and let them dangle in the small pocket of water in the destroyed portion of the church's floorboards. It was relaxing for about ten seconds.
Then it pulled her under.
She's still not sure what exactly happened, if something had grabbed her or she'd slipped and fallen. There was water, calm save but for ripples created by her slight movement, the flexing of toes, and then a great splash and fighting for air. There was a struggle, and then nothing but blue, and the shocked sting of water at the back of her throat, her lungs. The skylight was still visible even from here... that one ray that usually fell on the flowers, did it get brighter, or was it simply a phantom illusion, brought on by a dying brain? Was she simply drowning?
Tifa did the only thing that seemed natural. She reached out to it.
It reached back.
--------------------
She wasn't sure how she came to be here, and for those who were watching, it still wasn't clear. One moment the gate surrounding the main entrance - the stairway - on the side near the tenements was empty, save for perhaps one or two people leaning near it, talking, perhaps smoking. Maybe a person walking in front of them had blocked their vision for a moment.
Then, the next, there was a woman dressed in black, coughing, slouched against it. More notably, she was soaking wet, and not entirely conscious. Breath rattling, she hauls herself up to a sitting position, and coughs to the side.
There was nobody quite close enough to see, but a faint glimmer - maybe greenish-blue - dripped away with the water, against the ground, and was gone.
Maybe there actually was somebody holding her up, after all.
((thanks, Cloudmun :D))