A/N: I slightly modified this scene to my liking for this particular piece. Plus, peaceful!Cloud is the best, ne?
journey
Beads of purity and healing waters dance in the air, replenishing the atmosphere with its promise of joy and hope and love while simultaneously extinguishing the blacks of death and despair.
And he is free.
He is finally free. Free from the cursed stigma that stained his body like a second skin, free from the guilt that weighed on his shoulders like a load of weight, free from just everything. He wants to do things that seem uncharacteristic of himself. He wants to just laugh and cry and smile and drop down onto his knees.
A chuckle escapes his lips as his gloved covered hand combs through his mess of a hair. Ha. Two more of the same long forgotten sounds escape his lips. Ha, ha. It's nice, nice to finally let out a genuine laugh that wasn't feigned or forced. It was great. Cloud is great.
And he is smiled down upon by every one.
There's a foreign and rare feeling of his upturned lips as he watches the scene unfold before him, and there's something towards the back of the church that captures his entire attention. A figure dressed in matronly pink with a resonating softness left the holy building with another figure dressed in idolizing and masculine blue.
He feels feather light yet wolfishly strong, and his horizons and plains have cleared and allowed him to see what he has before him - a family, friends, and hope and happiness and love – that he had all failed to protect and keep. But he's here now. He's not so blind anymore.
And he is finally -
.
.
.
...home.