Days After: Prologue
Day 0
1:15:45 PM
White sugar, brown sugar, butter- beat until it's a satisfying massive blob of fluff.
1:17:29 PM
Flour, vanilla extract, chocolate chips, eggs, baking powder. A pinch of salt.
1:20: 23 PM
Tifa looks at her concoction with a sense of pride. Because for all the cooking she does, she never really gets to bake. And it's a shame because there's something about baking that puts a makes her feel all warm inside. Like a snug blanket on a cold day.
1:24:55 PM
Oh crap, preheat the oven. Right. How do you forget that?
1:25:55 PM
Still mixing- maybe with a little too much aggression.
She's been messing up a lot of small things lately, Tifa decided. Nothing that was ever worth mentioning, just enough of the details for her to begin to notice. And sometimes it gets a stray comment of concern from a friend or a patron of her bar.
Every misplaced key, misheard order, and drink that missed their destination was beginning to add up; to what, probably nothing more than added frustration. But she really didn't need another straw on her back.
Hence the cookies. She figures she deserves an indulgence once in a while.
1: 27: 01 PM
She stops mixing, and begins to tap drops of dough onto a the shear cookie sheet.
It's stress. Tifa frowns, no that wasn't quite right. Stress wasn't quite the right word. Confusion? Maybe better. She's stuck in a bit of a limbo lately, relationship wise. And that's the worst kind of limbo because it seems to bypass your carefully laid defenses and breaks you down regardless.
Tifa knows she is a young, attractive woman, godmother to two beautiful children, owner of a quaint albeit small townhouse, with a successful small business, and there's not many in this city who can boast that. But somehow she still feels small and a little bit stupid when it comes to these things.
Tap tap on the cookie sheet.
Cloud is worse than her when it comes to these things. She knows it, and she tries very, very hard not to expect anything. There's a right time and place for everything and it is not now. She's can wait because if nothing else she's extremely patient.
But still, every time he goes to Aerith to confide in her (and not Tifa), or drops out of a promise to meet, or decides to communicate in grunts instead of words, there's an uncomfortable pit in her stomach that grows. He doesn't mean anything by it and Tifa's never been one to push.
She decided to just wait the troubles out but then came her forgetfulness and the long awkward moments where she just spaces out. Was it Jealousy- kind of; nervousness- maybe; self doubt- oh definitely. That pit was starting to spread from her stomach to her head, from her heart to her daily life. But she really needs to keep it tog-
1:35:45 PM
The high pitch reminder from the oven interrupts Tifa's drabble of thoughts. Right, preheated and now to put in the cookies. She opens the oven door, greets the warmth blast of air, and places the cookie pan in it.
She tends to think herself in a corner; she knows it better than anyone. Better to focus on chocolate chips.
But maybe she should call him-
"Warm, preferably halfbaked cookies," she shoves her thoughts in a different direction.
She strides across the room and picks up the phone hanging from a wall. There's no harm in calling him. Maybe tell him to come over for dinner.
"Freshly made cookies. She could even save some for Marlene and Denzel when they visit-"
No, no, she hangs up the phone before she even begins to dial. Dear gods her mind is a mess. Whatever she would be saying would be come out jumbled anyways.
She picks the phone up again, she's overthinking this. It's not like it's strange for her to call Cloud, they knew each since forever. Back in their younger years where days were as long as weeks, she wore pretty dresses every day, and he still blushed at every little thing.
Nope, still a bad idea. She hangs up again.
"Melt in your mouth chocolate chip."
1:40:13 PM
"Hello?"
"It's me, Tifa."
"Oh Tifa!" and Tifa can't help and smile at the affection coming from the woman's voice on the other side of the receiver, "Just the woman I was looking."
"Should I be scared? Because I'm scared," Tifa teased. She didn't really understand what compelled her to call Aerith considering she was (a small) piece of the confusion that haunted her, but she was glad she did. Aerith had this trait, a gift, to make everything feel like it was going to be alright.
Whenever they talked she remembers why even with the Cloud debacle they never fought, friendship just came easy between them.
"I," Aerith dragged out the pronoun, "have a nice surprise for you."
"Me too," Tifa said, shifting her phone to her shoulder and pinning it down with her cheek as she opened the oven door. Another five minutes. At most.
"Me first. Tomatoes," Aerith said smugly, "I have a new patch of them growing right now."
"…Tomatoes"
"Don't use that tone on me. There is nothing better than fresh, local grown food. You wanted to attract more customers right? Better ingredients, duh. I'm a genius."
"Yeah, yeah," because Aerith is right. Not that city food is usually better quality, just Aerith's. She's an herbalist by trade and spends more time growing medicinal herbs than food, but Tifa's pretty sure she could grow anything she wanted in just city cement and fog.
"So what's your surprise?"
"Cookies."
"You have my attention. What kind?"
"Chocolate chip."
"Ugh, your surprise is way better," she feigns a hurt tone, "Tell me you put almonds in it. You should almonds in it."
"No, my kitchen is no democracy. It is a dictatorship."
"Then consider this your notice of rebellion, I'll be there in an hour to liberate said cookies."
"You are going to drive all the way out here for cookies," Tifa quirks her brow in amusement.
"I'm very dedicated to cookies," Aerith says dead seriously, "and occasionally my frie-"
1:44:54 PM
She feels it first, like a deep, angry rumbling that shakes her house, her bones, to the very core. Then the lights of her house sputter out.
"Tifa… did you feel that?" Aerith's voice sounds scared and Aerith was rarely scared of anything.
"Was that an earthquake?" Tifa moved toward the window, lifting pale pink curtains from her view, then her eyes widen; it looks like a piece of hell, reaching and reaching towards the sky, mushroom clouds expanding and billowing up.
"Christ, Aerith it's an explos-"
The buildings are going down like dominoes, sand castles under a rising tide, crumbling underneath the shockwave and heading right for her. Tifa reacts on instinct, her phone drops as she raises her hands to shield her face and twists away from the window before the force rages at the sill and shatters tiny, angry pieces of glass all over her back.
The sound is deafening, like a manic howl or a rash of thunder just above your head, and it punches through her, knocks the wind right out of Tifa and drives her to her knees.
"The phone," her panicked thoughts make no sense. Less than a second later the walls of her house, small but quaint- her own sanctuary, bends and moans. And then they collapse around her, the roof that sheltered her crumbling and breaking down on her head.
2:15:31 PM
"Ding," Tifa says through split lips.
Cookies are done, she thinks.
2:25:23 PM
In. Out
Inhale, exhale.
Tifa listens to her own breathing. The human body is like a machine.
2:40:02 PM
"I should move," Tifa explains to herself but she stays where she is on the floor, she doesn't even bother opening her eyes. She wonders if Cloud is coming for her. Maybe the army, or Marlene and Denzel's parents, or Aerith. But mostly Cloud.
"Haha, wonder what the look on his face will be," Tifa smiles.
2:42:46 PM
"Would it be worried," Tifa thinks and then frowns. No- no, that's no good. She doesn't want to be baggage.
But the traitorous, selfish part of her would still like that.
2:43:59 PM
Inhale
2:44:31 PM
Exhale
2:44:30 PM
Oh gods, what if Cloud is trapped too?
Tifa finally opens her eyes and immediately a part of her wish she didn't. She suddenly feels more clusterphobic, mean rock and rubble that was once her home close around her, suffocating her and her movements. It's dark with just enough visibility to mock her about the seriousness of her situation. She's going to die here.
Who knows where Cloud is, and Marlene, and Denzel, and Aerith- oh god Aerith was scared on the phone. She's going to die not knowing if they're okay, and worse is the guilt that her first thoughts were of Cloud. But even through that guilt she can't stop thinking about it.
2:48:07 PM
"Don't think like that, Tifa, act."
She knows if she panics now then she may as well be dead. She was right by the wall, so close to the outside that if she could just make a little headway she could be free. She has little room, but enough for some movement, so she shifts her head to the right.
She's lucky.
She doesn't feel lucky, she feels almost broken, and bruised to hell, and terrified of everything, but she still is lucky. The lower piece of the wall was still intact and standing, it held up a piece of the floor above that now acted like a roof, sheltering her from any debris that threatened to crush her, and it sloped down to her other side. A short triangle of safe space.
Tifa moves her head up, not really up, just in front. No way getting out that way, it's packed solid. Tifa looks past her feet then. It's better but she's still doubtful she can escape.
No, she can. She has to.
2:50:20 PM
Exhale.
Kick.
She launches a powerful blow with her right leg to knock out a beam that was in her way. She's pretty sure she gave out a guttural shout when she did. Or maybe just wheezed out something. She can't tell with the ringing in her ears.
The beams splintered and gave her a way out without the entire roof crashing down again. That's a good sign. The dust is so thick she can feel it filling her lungs, so she rips off a piece of her shirt, puts it to her mouth, and begins to breathe through it. Better.
2:52:32 PM
She begins to crawl backwards but doesn't realize until it's too late that the glass is still littering the floor. She ignores the tinkling of the glass as it slices her hands and pricks her knees. Inch by inch, she leaves her space but her predicament beyond her triangle isn't much better; still too much floor and wall and roof, clusters of stones and wood and brick and still no sky. Where does she go from here? She doesn't even think about what if she shifted around too much the entire thing falls down on her; doesn't think about it at all.
She's just moving with strength and determination she never knew she had. It's slow and cautious, but she's patient. Always patient.
2:59:21 PM
It feels like days. Has it been days? Or hours? Or maybe just seconds, and that was a scary thought.
"Just keep moving," she pushes away the rubble and pieces of home. She's digging upward with raw fingers now; she is pretty sure it is upward. If she gets lost in the mass of packed dust and rocks she just spits. Spit falls to the ground and she climbs to the sky, simple enough to remember.
3:05:52 PM
Oh crap.
She moves the wrong thing and the debris begins to lean into her, but she isn't crushed. She must be near the surface then, not much left on top of her. It's a comforting thought as she struggles not to be completely pinned by one large slab of her roof. It weighs down on her back; her knees are buckling as she fights to stay upright and if her legs give in a little she is sure she'll stop there forever.
3:06:30 PM
She finds every bit of strength, every inch of muscle she has left, and by all that is good- if she were ever half the woman she thought she was-if she were half the woman anyone ever thought she was… she would throw off this god forsaken rock.
Inhale.
3:06:50 PM
Push.
Scream.
Exhale.
In whatever order.
3:07:45 PM
She's free, on top of her ruins. And after climbing upwards for so long, she falls down exhausted on all the splinters and edged rocks.
She still can't see. Clouds of dust from her house- all the surrounding houses- from the rest of the city- make the air opaque with damage; thick with destruction and dead. She wipes the sweat off her brow, and then frowns. Why is her sweat red?
"Oh it's blood," she thinks, she's bleeding on her head, hands, and knees, and probably everywhere. And where there is no bleeding she's most likely bruised. She needs help.
Help.
"Is anyone there!" she shouts with whatever strength she has, "I need help!"
She can't see anything, so she strains herself to hear; faint sounds of car alarms, maybe the sounds of some houses that are still falling apart. There are no people; nobody else replying to her cry for help, no one crying for help themselves, no footsteps, no breathing, no running, not even birds or dogs barking.
3:09:59 PM
Tifa blinks through the blood pouring over her eyes and the long dark hair matted around her face and only one thought crosses her mind;
"This is how the world ends."
A/N: So I was writing a completely other story when I realized after so long of not doing anything, I pretty much forgotten how to write. I mean, I was never the best before, but for some reason now it was especially hard. So I scrapped that and came up with this multi chaptered story as a way to help me overcome the writers block and get me back into practice. Although it's not as much overcoming writers block as it is applying enough blunt force trauma until something breaks. You know, the American way.
So I'm just splurge writing now, and if I'm going to overcome this I might as well with a character that I love (Tifa), and something that I've always found fun (apocalypse survival stories) which I have no experience in writing. So I'm enjoying it. As of now I have five very rough drafts finished and planning to start the sixth.
Some technical things: Tifa centric and I have plans to have at least all of Cosmos's Warriors at least make a cameo, and plans for a lot of Chaos's warriors as well. But they are scattered throughout the story and might not come around till much later. Other characters from games will be mentioned in passing, but if they aren't in the Dissidia/012 then they won't be showing up as story characters. And the prologue isn't indicative of how the story is written, as in present tense and broken down through time. That's solely done for the prologue and a few flashbacks.
… Which totally goes against the whole point of the introduction. OH WELL.