moonlight shine
He opened his eyes and saw a girl - no, a woman - at his side, eyes closed with long lashes sweeping her cheeks. She was sitting on the ground, one arm bent at the elbow with her palm open as a place of rest for her chin. Her dark fall of hair outlined her face and torso like a framed picture.
His ungloved hands felt worn fabric from the tips of his fingers, and he noticed that he was lying on top of it and covered by another. His head was cushioned on a pillow, and he wondered where he was.
Her - the stranger's - bed? A friend's? An underground clinic's? ...an enemy's?
He checked his surroundings and noticed that he was in a private bedroom from the various pictures, both photographs and children's drawings, hung on the walls. The only piece of furniture was the semblance of a bed that he was lying on. He couldn't tell if it was dark or light outside; there were no windows.
Why was he here? Who was this woman? Who brought him here?
His train of thought then focused onto his body. He felt so sore but couldn't remember why. He flexed his fingers and fisted his hands, trying to regain some feeling back into his numb limbs. He curled his sock-clad toes and noticed that he was wearing foreign clothing - a cotton T-shirt and flannel pants. He felt ridiculous in the get-up but knew that he must have been washed and healed after noticing his bruised free arms and lack of blood fumes.
His attention turned back to the person on his side as he wondered if he should wake the woman or move sneakily out the room and find a way out, but his form stayed frozen when his ears heard rustling from the stranger.
He watched her stretch and yawn, covering her mouth politely as she did so. However, she folded her arms and laid on it as a makeshift pillow, her curtain of hair falling forward as if it were her blanket. Her elbows touched his body by accident, and he tried his hardest not to flinch. His peripheral watched out for her movements while his pupils attempted to locate a weapon or exit.
The woman moved again, placing her chin onto her arms once more and slowly started blinking her eyes - once, then twice
(Pools of red appeared, reminding him of a warmth in the form of friendly laughter and even the embrace of a lover).
Her eyes widened upon realization of him laying wide awake in front of her, and she immediately sat up straight. Her bangs fell precariously into her eyes, and his fingers twitched (certainly not because they itched to feel silky strands swept behind ears).
A sleepy smile appeared on her face, and he wondered if he was transported to another world or had switched bodies with another person. He does not recognize her face at all or even his surroundings. He felt uncomfortable.
He must have scrunched his nose or furrowed his brows in frustration and confusion, for she stood up to her full form. She was petite but well-endowed (and no, he did not notice how her tiny white shirt and miniscule black miniskirt failed to leave anything to the imagination). Was she a… working girl who happened to find him and thought he'd be useful as a fellow co-worker? No, her face and hair were clean of makeup and hair products, and she did not smell of obnoxious, cheap perfume. Plus, her smile seemed too genuine and looked like a frequent appearance on her face.
She pulled him out of his reverie with the sound of her husky voice.
"I hope the sad excuse of a bed wasn't too uncomfortable."
Upon hearing her statement, he immediately sat up and attempted to get out of bed but felt the bed dip as she quickly sat down and put a gloved hand against his chest. He could tell from that one touch that she was a lot stronger than she looked.
But, the close proximity between them was maddening (and it was not because he found her quite attractive); he didn't like people he didn't know so close to him. He couldn't even look into her eyes every time he snuck a glance.
"Whoa there, boy. I wouldn't be so hasty if I were you. I just fed you after giving you some potions and casting some Cure's for your wounds. You just kinda walked into my bar and fainted, and I thought you were just some drunk looking for more liquor after being kicked out of another. But I examined you and noticed that you had some nasty cuts and bruises, so I decided to nurse you back to health until you felt better." She gave another smile, one made to comfort, and removed her hand from his chest (and he didn't like how her one act of friendliness made the blood in his body pump faster).
He vaguely remembered walking around for miles, lost and damaged. He didn't remember exactly where he came from or how his body became so wounded, but he did remember walking into a building and everything suddenly turning into black.
He nodded in response and decided to test out his voice. "H-how long have I been out?" He tried not to cringe at how crackly his voice sounded and coughed a bit to clear out his throat, immediately feeling her hand hitting his back.
He wondered why she was being so kind to him - a stranger. He could've been dangerous, harmful, but he remembered how powerful her hand had felt on both his chest and back. She must have known that he wouldn't have done anything to her since he was knocked out, and she possibly had back up somewhere else in this unknown building. She could have been the strongest fighter in this place for all he could've known.
She folded her left arm at the elbow, and her left hand grabbed her right elbow as she brought her right hand to her chin in a thinking form. She hummed as she said, "I would say about a week. You got a really strong body, but you don't seem to have any Mako from what I could see in your eyes." He noticed that she was now up from the bed and had linked her hands behind her back.
Mako? What was that? He had no idea what she was talking about, but it must have been some kind of medical enhancement that his kingdom had yet to discover unless this civilization was completely backwards from his.
On the other hand, his right leg felt empty without feeling the security of his weapon in his usual pocket, and his right hand kept clenching and unclenching an invisible object. His voice broke the air once more. "Where's Falchion?"
At the mention of his weapon, she instantly exited the room and brought him his sword. He felt more complete when his hands wrapped around the hilt and waved his sword around, flexing the latent muscles in his arm, and Falchion soon disappeared in the blink of an eye.
The silence that ensued was unbearable as he felt her eyes trained onto his form, causing him to tug at the collar of his shirt.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry if the clothes aren't to your liking. I had to wash you and get you into clean clothes in order to tend to your wounds. I hope they aren't irritating." She leaned against a wall, her right elbow in the grip of her left hand.
His mind inconveniently wondered how exactly she washed him and changed his clothes, but he quickly shook the thoughts from his mind. He was grateful enough to be alive. He was a prince that was in charge of a collapsing kingdom after all.
This thought then made him realize that she had not recognize him at all, or at least, she didn't show any signs of recognition. Maybe he was in another world, or maybe he was in a kingdom that just didn't know of his appearance. He was fine with either one, for he didn't need any more complications than needed.
He caught her gaze as he halted his thoughts, and his curiosity of her brimmed. But, he didn't know what to say or ask without sounding rude or ridiculous. He was never particularly good at talking to women (nonetheless, angels in disguise).
"What's your name?" He dared himself to take a glance at the ruby-eyed beauty and noticed her eyes slightly widened in shock. Had she not expect him to talk more, or did he say something wrong?
She shyly bit her lip before replying, "Tifa."
He repeated her name under his breath, and he liked the way it rolled off his tongue. It was quick and easy to say, and it was a unique name too (he wouldn't forget it). On the other hand, he contemplated on whether or not he would say his real name and instead decided to ask her another question.
"Where are you from?"
At this, he noticed her figure slightly flinch at his question, and he wondered why. He wouldn't push her if she felt uncomfortable though, for she hadn't push him after her awakening so far (and for that, he was grateful).
"I was from a small town and moved here to the big city since I had no opportunities back home. Though, I must say that life here hasn't turned out to be the best, unfortunately."
It made sense that she felt uneasy exposing herself to a stranger whose name she did not even know. Her statement reinforced her current living conditions.
"You're a bartender...right? I can work for you for a bit as thanks."
She fiercely shook her head and brought both hands before her. "No, no. It's really unnecessary. You looked like you were in trouble, so I thought I shouldn't have left you to die in the slums or to be found and used by Shinra. I wouldn't want you to feel obligated to stick with me."
Shinra? What or who was Shinra? Was that the governing body that ruled them? He knew every single kingdom, both big and small, and he had never heard of Shinra before. Plus, the fact that she did not address herself as a citizen of a kingdom when he had asked for her origins or contained even the lowest technological means of living convinced him that he was, indeed, not in his world - that he had somehow been transported into another universe.
He knew that he needed a place to stay and a means of money if he was going to somehow find a way back to Lucis, and she seemed like the perfect candidate to provide him with all means of necessity. Maybe the goddess finally gave him something useful by leading him to her.
This time, he stood up and approached an arm's length away from her. "No, really, I insist. I honestly don't remember where I was or how I got here and maybe even who I am. And, I don't know what I'll do after I leave here, so I want to help you - both as a way of payment and until I remember everything."
She pondered what he had said for a few moments before finally deciding to agree. She brought one forefinger up and said, "But, I have to know my new co-worker's name first."
He was silent for a few seconds, contemplating. "Call me Noctis."
He didn't think it would hurt, especially after how she commented on how she had never heard a name like that before. He offered his hand, and she shook it as an informal agreement, releasing after three hearty shakes.
It took all the strength in him to look her firmly in the eyes before he said, "Thanks. For everything."
She smiled, and her face beamed even more. He didn't like it.
"It's no problem really. I would love to offer more help if you need it."
He still didn't get it. Why was she being like this to him? Was there a catch, a deal, that she wanted to make in exchange for her care? Or were there actually people like her in this world? Last time he checked, the world was either a sophisticated anarchy or a perfect mask of lies. It was survival of the fittest.
"But I don't get it - any of this. Aren't you afraid that I could kill you?" In a flash, he appeared behind her and had the blunt side of Falchion pressed against her neck as he put her in a headlock.
He heard an airy laugh come out of the woman pressed against him, felt her back shake just a bit at each breath that came out of her mouth. "Haven't you heard? Don't judge a book by its cover."
In an instant, he felt her elbow hit his chest to loosen his grip around her neck, catching him off guard. She rammed her shoulder into his front, releasing his hold on her, enabling her to kick his sword out of his hand. She then pranced onto his form like a lion, forcing his back to land harshly against the wooden floor as she straddled his waist and held his hands above his head in a firm grip.
She leaned down, and her freed hair isolated them from the outside world as it surrounded them like a veil. She licked her lips and smirked with a gleam in her eye.
(Beautiful, just stunning).
He liked her already.