Through the Looking Glass
'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?'
The rather silly little rhyme, from a children's story he's heard somewhere, runs through Cloud's head as he observes his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He's disliked mirrors for a while: he's not sure why,
(those eyes, those beautifulgrotesquepitifulbrokenproud eyes)
but it's starting to get out of control. Sometimes, it gets so bad that he can't even look in one in the morning, and Tifa wonders why his hair looks weird. Did he brush it without looking in the mirror or something?
Cloud doesn't tell her.
Midgar is slowly being rebuilt; the clones caused a fair bit of damage in their quest for 'Mother', and the workers have made good progress. The brothers and Sephiroth may be gone, but people are still wary, and Cloud has often seen the Turks around.
He slips away quickly, like the shadows on the walls of the tall buildings,
(he needs to get away from the one with hair the colour of blood, needs to get awayawayaway)
before they can accost him.
Sometimes, at night, he thinks he can hear soft, deep laughter, feel warm breath on the back of his neck and long hair wrapping around him like a cocoon.
As he drifts off to sleep, he does not question. After all, the mirror never lies.
FINIS