A/N: So! First time writing Tifa, and to be honest, I'm a little nervous about this. I think I characterized her correctly, but I'll let you be the judge.
Disclaimer: Silly readers, Final Fantasy VII is for Squeenix!
Tifa is a dreamer.
It isn't easy to see by looking at her. Most people see big breasts and dark eyes and a short skirt; they see boots and a pretty face, and nothing past that. They never see the sparkling compassion in those eyes or the callouses on her hands. No one ever watches closely enough to read between the lines. They never stare at her enough to see the occasional lapse into dreaminess, the wistful softening of her mouth and the furrowed brow unfolding; they never see her hand slow as it wipes down the table, before the expression slams close and locks in on itself. It's well enough. Idealism can get you killed in Midgar. But she likes to dream.
Once upon a time, it was about becoming famous. It was about leaving Nibelheim. She would give anything to have that town back, now —but wishes aren't fishes. Still. It's all too easy to imagine slipping into complacency, getting married, raising children...She knows she would never be that content, but dreams are dreams for a reason.
It's all too easy to do, to make wishes on stars she can't see. A happy moment stolen in her mind can make the stained walls and gray concrete disappear, replaced by misty mountains and frosted lakes and ice crystals in the air when you breathe in, breathe out. She swears she would change it all if she could have it back. She would never let Cloud leave, and she would tell her dad about the mako reactor; she would send a warning to ShinRa, she would let everyone know about the burning, she would do something useful and she wouldn't be so damn ignorant. But it was all too easy.
It was all too easy.
You see — if wishes were fishes, they'd choke on air.
Feedback appreciated!