Delicate....just means easily obliterated.
My most prominent memory is of how long it took her to fall, out of the grip of Sephiroth's Masamune. Her eyes shimmered with luminescent tears as they descended, slightly more slowly. It still hurts to wonder whether Aeris was dead before her earthly body fell slack against the marble altar, or if the soft impact was what sent her to her promised land. After all, she was home, at last....nothing that Sephiroth or I could do would defile the last sight those kaleidoscope eyes beheld. She looked through me, past the tip of the blade as it aligned itself with her silent scream, into the walls of this wretched shrine to become one with the Cetra through the astral voice of prayer.
I don't matter in any of this any longer. I could tear myself apart if only to be a part of this sensation, all this beautiful melancholy invading me, slamming against the walls of my skull like razor-refined petals in every conceivable colour. No words exist for how this feeling festers, it grows in my throat, a cancerous larynx that blocks the air sweetened by death. I don't remember reaching out for her, as desperate to hold my Ancient as Sephiroth was to delight in this cyclonic explosion of shock and pain. No longer a wanton lover's embrace, revelling in the curse of its own carnality, now the relentless protective longing of a mercenary drowning in confusion.
Guardian, shamed companion and absent friend, I haven't breath to explain. Revenge is breath anew and immortal in its justice. I need no stimulation, no life and no love; I am but equally dead. Two corpses, one heart beats and the other does not, yet both still whisper their soul- mate's name through the crystal serenity of this place. Staring for an eternal second into the peaceful face whose contours I had memorised a thousand times stole what little respect for humanity that lingered within me. Those ivory eyelids offset by long, buoyant lashes, never again to be prised apart revealing the twinkling pools beneath, whether inquisitive or brimming with liquid intensity. Those same smooth, elegant features and perfectly symmetrical lips.......which would never meet mine.
Enough, Sephiroth. You know that for every love as potent as this comes gentle, nurturing evil in equal measure, to those damned creatures such as you and I. Twisting demons writhe beneath my skin, I can't contain them long. Soon I will snap, we will fight, and I will kill you. Brother.
Then I will pretend, for the rest of my life. That Tifa makes me happy, that there is meaning left in this world. Every time my head hits the ground they will dismiss me as a drunken failure, not knowing that I dream of my only love. I will pretend, so that they never know how much I hurt.
My most prominent memory is of how long it took her to fall, out of the grip of Sephiroth's Masamune. Her eyes shimmered with luminescent tears as they descended, slightly more slowly. It still hurts to wonder whether Aeris was dead before her earthly body fell slack against the marble altar, or if the soft impact was what sent her to her promised land. After all, she was home, at last....nothing that Sephiroth or I could do would defile the last sight those kaleidoscope eyes beheld. She looked through me, past the tip of the blade as it aligned itself with her silent scream, into the walls of this wretched shrine to become one with the Cetra through the astral voice of prayer.
I don't matter in any of this any longer. I could tear myself apart if only to be a part of this sensation, all this beautiful melancholy invading me, slamming against the walls of my skull like razor-refined petals in every conceivable colour. No words exist for how this feeling festers, it grows in my throat, a cancerous larynx that blocks the air sweetened by death. I don't remember reaching out for her, as desperate to hold my Ancient as Sephiroth was to delight in this cyclonic explosion of shock and pain. No longer a wanton lover's embrace, revelling in the curse of its own carnality, now the relentless protective longing of a mercenary drowning in confusion.
Guardian, shamed companion and absent friend, I haven't breath to explain. Revenge is breath anew and immortal in its justice. I need no stimulation, no life and no love; I am but equally dead. Two corpses, one heart beats and the other does not, yet both still whisper their soul- mate's name through the crystal serenity of this place. Staring for an eternal second into the peaceful face whose contours I had memorised a thousand times stole what little respect for humanity that lingered within me. Those ivory eyelids offset by long, buoyant lashes, never again to be prised apart revealing the twinkling pools beneath, whether inquisitive or brimming with liquid intensity. Those same smooth, elegant features and perfectly symmetrical lips.......which would never meet mine.
Enough, Sephiroth. You know that for every love as potent as this comes gentle, nurturing evil in equal measure, to those damned creatures such as you and I. Twisting demons writhe beneath my skin, I can't contain them long. Soon I will snap, we will fight, and I will kill you. Brother.
Then I will pretend, for the rest of my life. That Tifa makes me happy, that there is meaning left in this world. Every time my head hits the ground they will dismiss me as a drunken failure, not knowing that I dream of my only love. I will pretend, so that they never know how much I hurt.