Out of every thousand snowflakes that fall, one might make it past the plate to fall into the slums.
That was what the weather service always said, back in Midgar. Here in Edge, some five years after Midgar had ceased to be, an ex-Shinra employee had to chuckle as he watched thousands and thousands of snowflakes cover everything, rich and poor alike.
I wonder if they were better off with a plate above them.
The plate, in part, had been his idea – and it had never quite been put to use the way he'd wanted it to. Assistant to the head architect for the Department of City Planning or not, he hadn't been the head then. Things would have been different if he had been, that was for sure.
For one, he would have been in charge at City Planning at at eighteen.
But what was lost was lost, and what he had built in its place was more than sufficient. A city that ran on replenishing energy, and never once took from the Planet what it could not restore. Thoughts of expanding the WRO's influence outside of Edge and into the rest of the Planet. Looking into finding a way to healthily use Mako for the common good. It was a revolution, all backed by one of the men that had helped ruin it all. The world was changing.
But some things never change.
It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas Day by now, and Reeve Tuesti's house was silent. The old homage "not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse" fit for all but himself – Cait was curled up in a corner, recharging for the night as it were. Strings of lights flickered in the arctic wind outside, blowing plumes of snow up into the air in a bizarre crystalline dance, and the commissioner watched from the warmth of his own home. A blaze crackled in the fireplace, sending reflections of yellows and golds onto the bulbs and tinsel that decorated his tree to mix with the colors of the lights already there.
The evening had been a quiet one for him; the company shut down early so that his employees might have time to go back and be with their families for dinner before either shuffling everyone off to bed or getting dressed and prepared for a midnight church service. Reeve hadn't done either, having lost his faith in invisible gods years before and not having anyone to shuffle off to bed but himself. But he'd stayed up to finish decorating the tree, and did a little last minute shopping for tomorrow's dinner at the only shop he could find that was still open.
He'd never admit it aloud, but seeing all the families made him just a little jealous. He'd been estranged from his parents since he was an early teenager, and had never really made the connection back to them before his mother had passed away after Meteorfall. Neither of them had made a large effort to breach the gap, and he had to own up to a small bit of guilt there. He should have done more. He should have gotten over the stupid childish anger that tore him apart and gone back to them.
But it was too late now.
Stepping away from the window, he looked around him at the house. It had only been recently that he'd started even decorating for the season – and he still couldn't come up with a good explanation of why. Green garlands adorned both the mantle and the bannister on his stairs, and all of the usual candles that dotted the shelves had been replaced with either Christmas-colored or Christmas-scented ones. A few ceramic Santas and glass angels were placed covertly around, all gifts from employees or well-meaning Secret Santas from back in the Shinra days. The style had been described as "the Grinch's second Christmas" by the girl who came into clean once a week – indicating that it looks like he was trying, but essentially failing. He didn't mind, and in the end, neither did she. She'd chalk it up to male inability to properly decorate, and he'd never comment otherwise.
Couldn't properly decorate? He could design a city but not put some tinsel around his house? Ah well. Whatever worked for her. And it wasn't really false, either.
He glanced out the window again, hearing distant strains of a carol being sung down the road. By now, Tseng would have gotten back to Wutai, Rude would be up on the Northern continent – wherever his family lived up there – wishing that snow was shippable, Elena would be fleeing to Costa del Sol, Reno...would be in his apartment, lighting candles. Rufus had long since come to terms with celebrating Christmas alone, and if he was holding up the promise he'd sworn to Reeve, he'd be taking a visit to a certain chapel back in the Sector 7 ruins. It was only himself that was standing alone, wishing he could be doing something more but having no ideas as to what exactly he'd want.
He sat back in his armchair, picking up a mug of tea from the table next to him and sipping it as he stared into the Christmas lights on the tree. It was Christmas Eve – or rather, as he heard the clock chime behind him, Christmas Day now – and he was alone in the house, save for the slumbering cybernetic cat.
One person to wish a Merry Christmas to, and half the time, he had to make him say it back to him.