wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2021-05-29 04:06 pm
wintersday) wrote2021-05-29 04:06 pm
Fic: Silver Light
Title: Silver Light
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (original game)
Major Characters/Pairings: Aeris/Tifa
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: PG
POV: Third person
Summary: Tifa finds herself called back to the Sleeping Forest, and the woman who waits there.
Notes: Originally written as giftfic for nununununu on AO3
After the Crater - after Meteor and Holy, after a meal and a good night’s sleep - Tifa wakes knowing there’s somewhere she has to go.
She goes alone. The light slanting through the leaves is cold and silvery, but she hears bird-calls and, far off, the rustle of wings. The Sleeping Forest is waking up.
Nothing turns her aside or draws her deeper, so she sits on a fallen log and waits. She knows what she’s waiting for. She still doesn’t let herself believe it until she hears the crunch of ordinary boots in ordinary leaves, and someone sits beside her.
Aeris looks like she used to – not pale, not wounded – but she smells like mako. Not the processed kind that bubbles up near Nibelheim, chemical-sharp, but something richly verdant that catches in Tifa’s throat like a memory. There are leaves in her hair. Her eyes are bright and very green.
“Can you come back?” Tifa asks. For a moment, the world recedes to silence and boreal light. It’s a familiar dream, and Tifa scarcely blinks for fear of waking. Then Aeris takes her hand. Her skin is warm, her grip strong.
“I belong here,” she says. “But you can visit.”
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (original game)
Major Characters/Pairings: Aeris/Tifa
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: PG
POV: Third person
Summary: Tifa finds herself called back to the Sleeping Forest, and the woman who waits there.
Notes: Originally written as giftfic for nununununu on AO3
After the Crater - after Meteor and Holy, after a meal and a good night’s sleep - Tifa wakes knowing there’s somewhere she has to go.
She goes alone. The light slanting through the leaves is cold and silvery, but she hears bird-calls and, far off, the rustle of wings. The Sleeping Forest is waking up.
Nothing turns her aside or draws her deeper, so she sits on a fallen log and waits. She knows what she’s waiting for. She still doesn’t let herself believe it until she hears the crunch of ordinary boots in ordinary leaves, and someone sits beside her.
Aeris looks like she used to – not pale, not wounded – but she smells like mako. Not the processed kind that bubbles up near Nibelheim, chemical-sharp, but something richly verdant that catches in Tifa’s throat like a memory. There are leaves in her hair. Her eyes are bright and very green.
“Can you come back?” Tifa asks. For a moment, the world recedes to silence and boreal light. It’s a familiar dream, and Tifa scarcely blinks for fear of waking. Then Aeris takes her hand. Her skin is warm, her grip strong.
“I belong here,” she says. “But you can visit.”