A/N: Yay! Finally got another one. My muse has definitely not been cooperating lately. Sadness.

Anyhow, here is another one inspired by an old Chinese "ghost" story found in the classic collection Liao Zhai Zhi Yi (aka Strange Tales of Liao Zhai). I go in a way different direction but if anybody is interested in where I got the idea from, that's where. They're interesting reads if you're into Chinese supernatural stories.

In any case, hope you all enjoy this! I personally really like this one.

ANOTHER LIFETIME

#18: Painting
Summary: The line between reality and fantasy is never as well-drawn as we believe it to be.
Word Count: 972
Originally posted: August 21, 2010

Something had attracted her to the portrait from the start.

It was a beautiful painting, and even though it was probably close to three hundred years old, the colors were still as bright and vibrant as ever. But it was not the superior technique that drew her artist's admiration. No, what truly caught her attention were the eyes.

Eyes filled with the brightest blue she'd ever beheld and even as she sifted through her mental color palette, she knew that it would be impossible to recreate such a unique shade of summer sky and clear ocean reef all rolled into one. The eyes were set in a face of impossible masculine beauty, striking lines that marked a straight nose, a stubborn set of a jaw, eyebrows that could only be fashioned by the most meticulous sculptor, and lips pressed into a thin line, as if he were angry…or perhaps unbearably sad. The perfection of his image extended to the wondrously built form of his body, even encased as it was in the layers his suit as was the fashion then. Still she could easily make out the broad length of his shoulders and chest tapering to narrow hips and strong thighs.

It made her smile unconsciously when she noted that everything about the subject matter screamed noble…save for that wild stand of unrepentant blonde hair rising in all directions from his head. She liked to think that perhaps he might have been burdened with heavy responsibilities from birth, but he knew that life was more than duty.

She did not know how wistful her sigh was as she gazed into the image of a man who she could have loved. Startled, she shook her head at her thoughts.

Her friends told her that she was too obsessed with her art; maybe they were right after all. Falling in love with a portrait? Good heavens, maybe she really should go out to the club tonight.

"Tifa…"

She spun around sharply at the faint whisper of her name but the few others in the gallery were absorbed with their own musings. Heart beating with almost painful speed, she caught her breath and surveyed the room once more. She had probably imagined it. The voice had been so soft, but her heart ached terribly for some reason and she could not rid herself of the touch of that melancholic tenor against her ears.

The back of her neck prickled with awareness, as if someone was watching her intently, but she knew even as she turned back to the portrait that the only person staring at her possessed eyes of impossible blue allure. She looked back into those eyes and lost herself in his world.

Perhaps he had been a nobleman, a duke even. He certainly had the bearing. He would have set the world afire with those pensive lips and expressive brows. She wished she could have met him. His voice would have been a seductive melody, soothing her fears even as she melted into his arms. His lips would have feathered against her hair and her temples, her cheeks and nose before settling first gently, then with greater fervor against her willing lips. His hands, those elegant masterpieces, would have gripped her firmly around the waist, pulling her tighter against his hard body while his fingers drummed hypnotic beats against her back, her hips, her thighs.

His tongue touched hers and she lost herself in sensation, her fingers digging deep into the nape of his neck and dragging through the soft down of his hair. She raised herself higher on her feet and tried to get closer, closer, closer to that elusive sense of completion, but it seemed nothing could quench the burning fire that raged throughout her body.

"Cloud," she moaned in desperation, the heretofore unknown name coming naturally to her lips.

And as suddenly as that, she found herself thrown back into the art gallery, her breathing heavy as if she had just run a mile. Or had just been kissed out of her mind.

Oh god. She had just fantasized about a man in a portrait. She raised shaking hands to her cheeks and found them heated, but whether it was from embarrassment or unfulfilled desire, she could not say.

She really needed to get away. She turned to leave, but she couldn't help herself as she checked the small plaque beneath the painting hoping to see the name of the artist. Somehow she wasn't surprised when it was assigned as "Unknown."

Pity she would not be able to research other pieces of art from the brush of this master, but it seemed fitting that such a majestic work of art did not have a known artist. If she didn't know better, she could almost swear that something like this could only be the work of a god. Maybe that was why…

Good lord, just forget it! cried the sensible part of her mind. The rest of her agreed after only the briefest hesitation.

The club was starting to sound better and better.

…

If one had been very carefully observing the portrait of the unnamed man by the unknown artist, they would have been startled to find that those bright blue eyes darkened fractionally as they shifted to watch an unsettled young brunette hurry out of the gallery. Then they would have seen the hard lips curve into a possessive smirk, one dark enough to send shivers down the spine of the bravest soul.

A/N: Just as a disclaimer for any grammar nerds who I know are lurking out there somewhere (especially knowing that I'm one too): I know that I suddenly change tenses between the paragraphs of the "kiss." It's on purpose. It's supposed to signify a shift from Tifa's imaginings to "reality." If you caught that, good for you. If not...well, I just explained it for you anyway. :)

Sequel pending on how well the plot bunnies cooperate. Thanks for reading!

Thank you: kerapal bubbles, Seelenspiel, Iskra revoir, vLuna, xoVanilla-Bean, mom calling, SorrowsFlower