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femslashficlets2017-12-12 08:05 pm
samuraiter) wrote in femslashficlets2017-12-12 08:05 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Difference [Final Fantasy VII – Tifa / Aerith (All Ages)]
Title: Difference
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Tifa / Aerith
Rating: All Ages
Prompt: 136 – Impact
Word Count: 840
Summary: Tifa receives a chance to save a life that could not be saved.
* * * *
Notes: I have addressed this pairing before (Companion atareyougame – please note that the story is technically NSFW), but this version of events goes full AU.
* * * *
Attempting to follow Cloud after his fall from the bridge at the Sector 5 Reactor had brought Tifa to a church full of flowers in the slums, and she had been obliged to pause in her search upon beholding rows upon rows of blossoms that should not have been able to bloom in the darkness beneath the plate. The floor seemed to be partially submerged, at least in that section of the building, and she dropped to one knee to examine the water, removing one of her gloves and reaching down to touch it.
In that instant, as she touched what felt like liquid light, for lack of a term that could be expressed in human words, as countless faces flashed through her mind and stirred memories she did not know she had, she realized that it might not be water at all.
She headed for the Wall Market after that, not knowing, at that point in time, the true impact of that small action, that directly touching the Lifestream could open the heart of a person to the multitude of voices that it carried upon its currents.
* * * *
When Tifa met Aerith, when she looked into those green eyes for the first time and felt like they might swallow up her heart, if only she allowed them to do so, she thought that she heard a whisper, right next to her ear. No words, but the voice seemed ... familiar, like one of those memories that had no images attached to it, a feeling rooted so deep in her insides that she could not describe it. The voice of her mother as she heard it in the womb before her birth, perhaps? That seemed like the best way to frame it.
No words. Not at first. But the voice came back to her during that first night at Kalm, as her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes, exhausted after fleeing Midgar.
And the voice of her mother had said to her then, in a soft murmur, Protect her.
* * * *
In the depths of the City of the Ancients, Tifa thought she could hear the whispering all around her, but no one voice seemed to stand out, not until she and the others had made their way to the bottom. Then, the words started to come to her again, and the voice of her mother became clear to her amidst all of the others:
Do not believe what you see. Death comes from above.
The night before, at Bone Village, she had gone to sleep – alone, fingers clutching at sheets that normally had another person beneath them, reaching for a long braid that was not there to touch on that empty and starless night – feeling a deep fear for Aerith. She could not find a reason for that fear, but it had settled into the pit of her stomach.
And that fear, as she looked up at where Aerith knelt in prayer, crystallized, becoming clear and real and all too material as a black shape descended from the ceiling.
Instinct. The voice of her father, killed by Sephiroth during the incident at Nibelheim. Do not think. Do not hesitate. Act. Now. And she did, sprinting forwards, jumping from platform to platform, her entire body in fluid motion, years of training coming to the fore as she dashed past the immobile Cloud. Towards Aerith. As the black shape revealed a sword, pointed down towards her, aiming to pierce through her body and —
No. She tackled Aerith, removing her from the path of the blade. Except that the blade seemed to be gone. Not Sephiroth. No blade at all. Only a ... monstrosity, impossible to describe, standing there where Aerith had been, turning to look at Tifa, hatred in a gaze that Tifa refused to meet. Not Sephiroth. Jenova. Only the illusion of Sephiroth, preying upon Cloud, using his fear to root his feet to the spot and keep him from acting.
But Tifa had acted, and she had made the difference. She and Aerith turned to look at the monster as the others raced forward to fight it, as they had once before.
Aerith then looked at Tifa, and her eyes seemed like they had on that first day, as if thousands of people were looking back at Tifa through them, if only for one second. Then, she blinked, and only Aerith looked back at her, smiling beatifically, as if her life had never been in danger. As if she had not come to the City of the Ancients to die.
"Your mother knew, didn't she?" Aerith said, the question making Tifa flinch. "She knew that Cloud couldn't –" She cut herself off. "But she knew that you could." She reached over and brushed her fingertips against one cheek. "We'll talk about it more later."
They joined the fight after that, and Tifa could hear no more voices ... save for one last whisper from her mother after they departed that place, forgotten by time:
Protect her, Tifa.
And love her.
END.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Tifa / Aerith
Rating: All Ages
Prompt: 136 – Impact
Word Count: 840
Summary: Tifa receives a chance to save a life that could not be saved.
* * * *
Notes: I have addressed this pairing before (Companion at
areyougame – please note that the story is technically NSFW), but this version of events goes full AU.* * * *
Attempting to follow Cloud after his fall from the bridge at the Sector 5 Reactor had brought Tifa to a church full of flowers in the slums, and she had been obliged to pause in her search upon beholding rows upon rows of blossoms that should not have been able to bloom in the darkness beneath the plate. The floor seemed to be partially submerged, at least in that section of the building, and she dropped to one knee to examine the water, removing one of her gloves and reaching down to touch it.
In that instant, as she touched what felt like liquid light, for lack of a term that could be expressed in human words, as countless faces flashed through her mind and stirred memories she did not know she had, she realized that it might not be water at all.
She headed for the Wall Market after that, not knowing, at that point in time, the true impact of that small action, that directly touching the Lifestream could open the heart of a person to the multitude of voices that it carried upon its currents.
* * * *
When Tifa met Aerith, when she looked into those green eyes for the first time and felt like they might swallow up her heart, if only she allowed them to do so, she thought that she heard a whisper, right next to her ear. No words, but the voice seemed ... familiar, like one of those memories that had no images attached to it, a feeling rooted so deep in her insides that she could not describe it. The voice of her mother as she heard it in the womb before her birth, perhaps? That seemed like the best way to frame it.
No words. Not at first. But the voice came back to her during that first night at Kalm, as her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes, exhausted after fleeing Midgar.
And the voice of her mother had said to her then, in a soft murmur, Protect her.
* * * *
In the depths of the City of the Ancients, Tifa thought she could hear the whispering all around her, but no one voice seemed to stand out, not until she and the others had made their way to the bottom. Then, the words started to come to her again, and the voice of her mother became clear to her amidst all of the others:
Do not believe what you see. Death comes from above.
The night before, at Bone Village, she had gone to sleep – alone, fingers clutching at sheets that normally had another person beneath them, reaching for a long braid that was not there to touch on that empty and starless night – feeling a deep fear for Aerith. She could not find a reason for that fear, but it had settled into the pit of her stomach.
And that fear, as she looked up at where Aerith knelt in prayer, crystallized, becoming clear and real and all too material as a black shape descended from the ceiling.
Instinct. The voice of her father, killed by Sephiroth during the incident at Nibelheim. Do not think. Do not hesitate. Act. Now. And she did, sprinting forwards, jumping from platform to platform, her entire body in fluid motion, years of training coming to the fore as she dashed past the immobile Cloud. Towards Aerith. As the black shape revealed a sword, pointed down towards her, aiming to pierce through her body and —
No. She tackled Aerith, removing her from the path of the blade. Except that the blade seemed to be gone. Not Sephiroth. No blade at all. Only a ... monstrosity, impossible to describe, standing there where Aerith had been, turning to look at Tifa, hatred in a gaze that Tifa refused to meet. Not Sephiroth. Jenova. Only the illusion of Sephiroth, preying upon Cloud, using his fear to root his feet to the spot and keep him from acting.
But Tifa had acted, and she had made the difference. She and Aerith turned to look at the monster as the others raced forward to fight it, as they had once before.
Aerith then looked at Tifa, and her eyes seemed like they had on that first day, as if thousands of people were looking back at Tifa through them, if only for one second. Then, she blinked, and only Aerith looked back at her, smiling beatifically, as if her life had never been in danger. As if she had not come to the City of the Ancients to die.
"Your mother knew, didn't she?" Aerith said, the question making Tifa flinch. "She knew that Cloud couldn't –" She cut herself off. "But she knew that you could." She reached over and brushed her fingertips against one cheek. "We'll talk about it more later."
They joined the fight after that, and Tifa could hear no more voices ... save for one last whisper from her mother after they departed that place, forgotten by time:
Protect her, Tifa.
And love her.
END.