RIBBONS
Summary: Cloud and his party reflect at the Temple of the Ancients. Oneshot.
It was just another quiet night in the Temple of the Ancients.
The wounded SOLDIER sat alone that night, wrapped in a mist of his own thoughts and emotions. His body was tense, his lips were set in a grim line of solemnity that no one wanted to pass and his eyes—his eyes were narrowed whether it be in anger or sadness. Maybe both. No one could tell.
He sat alone, far from the welcoming heat of the fire the others had started not too long ago. It was raining, and most of their party sat nearby it, shivering from the cold and the overall grimness of the situation. Not a word had been spoken since they had witnessed the death, not a thought said aloud.
Cloud wanted to hide. He wanted to disappear, be alone. He wanted to be away from everyone, everything that reminded him of her. A wave of emotions flooded him, and he wasn't sure which way was safe anymore. The SOLDIER in him wanted to stay calm, stoic. Headstrong and composed as any leader was in any situation. But the boy in him—the boy that had wanted so badly to just be accepted and the boy that just wanted what any being would have, just wanted to cry. Ultimately, the two sides of him compromised and he found himself sitting alone that night—wrapped in a mist of his own thoughts and emotions…
The others had decided to leave him there, let him heal on his own. Let him accept her death like they all silently were trying to do. Everyone that night had lost something—whether it be her reassuring smile, optimistic demeanor, or her very presence—everyone had lost something that they held very dear to them.
Even Cid Highwind, the unruffled mechanic from Rocket Town, had wordlessly untied the ribbons from her hair before Cloud had carried her out to the pond, her final resting place. Now, he cut the ribbons into thin strips. Thin strips of pink that he passed around. He tied a ribbon around his arm in silent memory, just above the tattoo of the letters "HW" engraved proudly into his bronzed skin. Everyone took their own strip and did the same. Yuffie helped Red lace the ribbon among his tail hairs while Barret tucked his in his pocket, saving it for his Marlene. Vincent accepted his quietly, his eyes gazing long at it before he slipped it inside his glove.
Yuffie looked up from where she sat near Tifa, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms draped around them protectively. The young ninja had witnessed death once, twice, too many times before—but never to someone so close. Her entire life was lived with each day to the fullest, but she still had the mindset that she was impenetrable, unbreakable, invincible. As if her youthfulness protected her from any form of death. But now, that confidence had gone, and she understood. She had matured and grown tonight, maybe not physically, but she was a whole world smarter. Red shifted when she moved, lifting his head and following her gaze as his tail swished back and forth. His ears perked up and he remained quiet as the ninja spoke.
"Can I have one?"
Cid thought she had never sounded so young before. Even though he had never taken a liking to the girl, he nodded silently and finished cutting the last two strips, passing one to Barret, who passed it to Vincent. The ribbon moved through them, passed from person to person like a delicate flower that would wither and die without their caution until it was handed to Yuffie by Red.
She tied it around her neck wordlessly before she frowned and rested her head on Red XIII's back, never feeling so much like a child than now.
Tifa, meanwhile, had cradled her ribbon in her hands like a fragile treasure. She hadn't said a word since she witnessed the death, but it had been her—she had been the one who fought alongside Cloud. She fought through the tears with such a tremendous ferocity that by the end of the battle, she had been just as emotionally worn as she was physically. Just like Cloud. She lost a woman she had relied on and counted on to help her pull through this mess. Tifa had lost her best friend. She hadn't been able to call anyone that in a long time. Not even Cloud, who she trusted with her life, had not shared the same intimacy as two best friends could. Sighing, the girl looked up from the fire, her eyes sweeping over Cloud's silhouette. He sat hunched over, his eyes narrowed but alert, chin resting against his palm. The Buster Sword was nearby, planted firmly in the ground, hilt up. Everyone granted him space, everyone granted each other space.
They had screamed, they had cried, they had shouted in horror and moaned why, why, why. They had collapsed, they had shaken, they had fallen to their knees and tore at their hair.
But now it was quiet.
Just another quiet night in the Temple of the Ancients.