[ If the others do talk, it'll likely be a lot of young men very angry at Clive for hogging Aerith's attention, he's sure. He'll probably be dragged towards the bar at some point and surrounded by tankards of ale, accosted by Cursebreakers and civilians alone about what he talks about with her, what makes Aerith smile.
Oh well. That's for future Clive to contend with. A gaggle of children pass by them on their way to their destination, and he smiles as they giggle and chirp Cid's gotten all dirty with Aerith! as they scatter. ]
...When we get rid of the crystals, and we get rid of magick, my hope is that we can get closer to the world you're envisioning. All of us made equal, with the same choices and opportunities to live and thrive.
[ No Bearers, no Branded, no arbitrary guidelines used to punish arbitrary groups of people. An ideal, but a goal nevertheless. ]
[Aerith's green gaze passes over the children and their laughter is infectious. She can't resist laughing either. Maybe she should set aside some time to play with them, too. A bunch of small hands in the garden sounds like it would be nice. If they can grow with peace in their hearts, perhaps their future can be a far brighter one. It's only when they're so far ahead of her view that she returns her attention onto Clive.
...When we get rid of the crystals, and we get rid of magick...
Yes. Maybe... that's all true. Maybe the crystals and magick is all to blame for this. But what does that mean for someone like her? Perhaps nothing good and maybe that part doesn't matter. Idly, she finds herself eyeing one of her hands. For the sliver of a moment, her expression shifts. Serious. A little more sombre. But it's only a beat of time, though it feels so much longer for her. The beat passes, no greater than the blink of an eye, and Aerith is back to... Aerith.]
All of us made equal. With the same choices and opportunities to live and thrive. [Her features soften.] What a beautiful world that could be.
[At his question, she shakes her head.] No. Of course not. I just wish you didn't have to. I wish no one here had to. I wish Cid never had to. People wouldn't have had to sacrifice themselves. Families wouldn't be split. Children wouldn't be without their parents. [Eyeing him thoughtfully, she continues.] You're fighting to make the world a better place, Clive. Seeing you fight so hard, it makes me want to do the same thing.
[ He watches, and for a moment, the world seems to dilate around Aerith; for a heartbeat, she seems miles away, sequestered in a place that seems impossible to reach.
There and gone again. She repeats his words back at him, steady and sure, and her smile brightens the green of her eyes. A trick of the light? It's hard for Clive to tell, even when he's so close to her in physical distance, just within arm's reach.
The grief of someone who lost much because of the world, he tries to reason. There's something under Aerith's skin that sings of melancholy, and maybe it's because of it that she's so gentle, that she holds her wishes like sunlight in her palms. ]
...I fight, but I also kill. I wouldn't wish that on you.
[ Bloodstained hands, dirtied by sin. He flexes the one that isn't holding the bowl, feeling his fingers furl and unfurl. ]
You do more than enough, just being alive. Seeing all of this through to the end. I'd dare not ask more.
[It is possible—likely, even—that she already kills. Inadvertent killing is still killing. Unintentional killing is still killing. Not that she feels either should be happening. If there could be only one sacrifice, wouldn't it make sense for it to be someone who would only add to the plight affecting countless others? Just the thought causes a sliver of ache to ripple atop her heart in a place unseen, but prominently felt.
She'll have to answer that, one day. Sooner, rather than later. It's a terribly selfish thing otherwise.
Watching Clive curl his free hand up and release, she reaches over and as gently as she can muster, as if she could even be anything but gentle, her fingertips touch his palm and eventually hers presses to his. She is warm, as she often is. Soft. Brimming with the churning, living force of aether beneath her carefully crafted exterior.]
You also protect. You save lives.
[After a moment's consideration, Aerith draws her gaze down from him in the direction she'd seen the children disappear into.] You saved mine. You and Cid. If neither of you had found me, I get the feeling it's not something I could have talked myself out of. [Founders know she had certainly tried, more than once.]
You do a great many things and all with purpose.
[Her insides reeled, turning the rest of his words over. It's a hard thing, then, wanting to squeeze his hand. Contemplating the truth in what he says. Knowing he can say it all so easily without knowing the cost for her to do those things.
But he carries so many burdens already. Which is why—]
The aren't really other settlements, are there? Like the one here, I mean.
[ Protection comes at a cost. For all the lives he's saved, he's had to cut down others; for all the relief he's tried to give, he's had to cause pain. He can equivocate all he wants, try to balance the moral scale, but he has to accept his wrongs. If only for the ones who grieve over them, whose hurts should also be validated.
It is what it is. His gaze flits down to where Aerith is touching him, hand to ungloved hand, and he manages to look grateful for the contact before he furthers it with the loose curl of his fingers, his featherlight grip. ]
It was more Cid than me, [ regarding saving her, ] but either way― I'm glad you're here with us.
[ It makes life bearable, seeing her smile. ]
...And no, I haven't heard of anyone else mad enough to set up an operation quite like ours. There may be a few hidden safehouses scattered throughout the Twins, but none as large in scale as this one.
[Aerith quiets, almost as if she might be able to determine where his mind goes. She can't, of course. It's all just theory based on wordless assessment. And what she knows about Clive already. She's beginning to feel a little more confident in how he might approach various things, and what he thinks of himself.
He isn't really wrong when he mentions Cid. He is the one who really instigated that rescue. Although she suspects that Clive would not have argued or done things differently. When it came to her, it's hard for her to imagine they weren't sharing the same intention at the time.
His hand soothes her. Just a little. But that small little fracture remains. Or maybe it's been there all along and she has tried to pretend it wasn't. That seems almost more accurate.]
This... Storm, I think it's called, right? [She rarely ever hears anyone in the hideaway refer to the continent itself.] It's so big. I haven't seen most of it. Except on maps. Paintings maybe. It's always hard for me to envision everything.
[ A full-spirited gentling, here, when Aerith talks about Storm. It'd been the case that Cid came from beyond the Twins, but spoke nothing of it― Clive himself had been confined to Rosalith for most of his childhood, and all of his travels while he was still an Imperial Bearer gave him no room for sightseeing.
There are still so many things he doesn't know. So many things he hasn't seen. Him and her, they're equals in that regard. ]
Perhaps when this is all over, we can explore more of what this world has to offer.
[ A general 'we'. Like Aerith, Clive won't specify, though he'd like to see this world through her eyes, he thinks.
A light drumming of his fingers along the back of her hand, and Clive lets her go. They're moving towards a more densely-populated part of the hideaway, and he wants to spare her any teasing that might happen. ]
Wouldn't that be nice? Aerith tries not to cling too hard to it, however. There may not be such a thing for her. It's something she always has to keep in consideration. Not because that's what she wants, but because false hope is... exactly that. And if she becomes too attached, that would only be troublesome.
He snags her attention when he releases her hand and it's such a strange thing, that she feels a little cold when he does.]
I'd like that, Clive.
[With hand freed, she slides it behind her back to eventually join with the other one.]
Until then, we'll just have to be satisfied with what we've got available to us. Don't think I've forgotten about your offer to take me with you next time. I'll make sure I'm on very good behaviour, of course. I won't get in the way or anything.
[ Good of her to remember his offer, and good that this time spent with him hasn't made her reconsider it. There are more than a few things that he could think of to do with her away from this lake and its uncomplicated comforts, as long as she's keen to do them with him. ]
And I'll make sure not to embroil you in anything unsavory. [ Hm. ] ...Hopefully.
[ Best not to make promises he can't keep; trouble finds him everywhere. A simple errand to go pick flowers usually ends with him fighting for his life against a monster five times his size, so. He'll have to protect Aerith, wherever they go. (Not such a daunting prospect, that.)
The men and women manning the kitchen look up when Clive and Aerith approach. Delivery, Clive announces, and one of them wipes her hand on her apron, bright eyes looking the both of them up and down.
[It's a good thing Aerith has no intention to start holding him to promises like that, though as far as she's concerned, if he's not using the word 'promise' it's not one. Nothing to hold him to, as it were. And she knows better anyway. Besides, who's to say that he's the one who'll get them into trouble?
She's not said it, but there are reasons Aerith doesn't travel out often. The last thing she wants is for a piece of her past to catch up to her. But it's been... some years, hasn't it? And those years for Aerith have been surprisingly quiet. Each time she goes out, however, it's a risk to take.
...She should say something to Clive. After some moments of thought, she concludes that she has to. So she will. When they're setting out.
Her thoughts turn when he announces their delivery and the moment they're assessed, she grins from ear to ear, looking pleased.]
Yes, we are. [She says, seeming extremely proud. Casting a look up to Clive, it's only a beat before it returns to a set of eyes that could quite possibly rival her own.] 'Cid' did a really good job. I'm trying to talk him into helping out in the gardens more often. I'll have more for you in a couple of days. If there's something you want us to grow in particular, we might be able to get it for you, so don't be afraid to ask.
[It might be a long shot, but there's never any harm in anything. She offers a hopeful look to Clive.]
[ Oh. Clive is poised with the bowl, handing it over to helpful hands that'll turn the fruit and herbs into something palatable for the others, when Aerith starts speaking.
And, well― ] ―It's as she says. A joint effort, on both of our parts.
[ To that, Molly finally sidles up to them from where she'd been busy tending to her stews, and delightedly clasps her hands in front of her. Just nosy enough to telegraph curiosity, but just mindful enough not to push too hard for details.
"Is that right? I'll have to take a look at my recipes, then― see if I can't get you two to fetch me something interesting."
She winks; it goes a bit over Clive's head, and he tips his head to the side. ]
[Maybe. Just maybe Aerith shouldn't be speaking up for him. Shouldn't be volunteering him for anything. Technically, she'd argue that she's not, but... Appearances.
Whether Aerith notices what exactly Molly is looking for between them is somewhat unknown. To be fair, it's a valid curiosity for anyone to see Aerith and Clive together, perhaps in any capacity. He helps out everyone in the hideaway, of course, so it's not like helping her is out of the ordinary or something worth immediately speculating. So maybe it's the way they've both dirt smudged on their faces. Or maybe it's that Aerith seems to be glowing just a little more than she normally might.
Clive winds up being not the only one to tip his head. It is likely that she picks up on some kind of implication, but chooses not to address it. For his sake. For her own. Who can really say when Aerith is at the helm of such thoughts.]
If you consider making some baked apples, I'll put in an extra good word for you with him. [She can't resist. It's a little flirtatious, that look she gives to Clive, but she seems to be teasing. Maybe.]
[ "So dense that light might bend around'ya", Gav sometimes says about Clive and attraction. And maybe there's truth to that, that he truly doesn't see it, but maybe it's more accurate to say that he sees it, and attributes it to an interest in a concept of him. Cid the Outlaw, leader and pioneer and torchbearer. Clive Rosfield, on the other hand, isn't very attractive at all.
Doesn't keep his heart from fluttering when Aerith looks at him like that, though. He's fairly certain that she's incapable of insincerity, even when she's trying to obfuscate; her masks still have a distinct feel that of her.
It makes him quirk a brow, then relax. ]
Nefarious, the both of you. I won't have bribery in this Hideaway.
[ Fondly, without chiding at all. Molly laughs, as if she's surprised that 'Cid' is playing along; Clive wonders if he really projects himself as so sullen and joyless all the time. ]
[Her own eyebrows raise at his reply and she begins to grin, unable to help herself. She really does like it when he humours her. But when she realises that maybe, just a little too much of her shows through, she carefully pulls it back. He's 'Cid,' after all. Maybe she shouldn't be too familiar with him in front of others. He might not want or like that kind of attention.
So instead, she manages to huff out a laugh into a hand.]
Spoilsport. We're just a couple of girls trying have fun. But if you're looking for more to do...
[Aerith straightens her posture, tries to at least seem a little more serious, and clears her throat.]
There's that ledge. The one that's partially broken. I don't think the full thing needs to be replaced, but at least the portion that's incomplete. Otherwise, someone's going to lose their footing and get hurt.
[She knows even if she's not the one doing it, someone else (probably more suited) will, but there's really no time like the present.]
[ Oh, well. It seems like Aerith is threatening him with a good time. More excuses to hover in her periphery, to figure out what makes her tick, what makes her tock. ]
Ah. After bribery comes coercion.
[ Content to continue on in this vein of casual banter, comfortable to be seen by Aerith, with her. There's no shame in being known in these small, happy moments, no embarrassment that his affection for someone so luminous is rightly perceived－ Aerith is good company, and what of it? Who's going to argue with him?
He can see Molly tittering in the background, having gotten over her intial surprise. As always, things brighten whenever Aerith is involved. ]
Fine－ I'll get the hammer and nails ready for my lady.
[ A hand over his chest again; another low-sweeping bow. ]
[Dramatically she gasps. Even clasps a hand over her heart, but she's grinning all over again, which means not a lick of it is serious.]
It's not coercion at all! I didn't say you had to do it. I just said if you were looking for more to do. I can do it all just fine all by myself.
[It won't be 'just fine,' though Aerith is a very impressively independent woman. Having Clive's assistance would be a boon. And it's one she'd like to have, so when he agrees to help, even if he's teasing, her grin relaxes into a smile.
She eyes Molly fondly, a tilt of her head.]
Well, you heard him. We have a ledge to fix. If you can think of anything else or notice anything else that could use a helping hand, let me know.
[ Molly agrees to letting the pair go with ease― if anything, she ushers them out with a hurried hand, insisting that Aerith's long hair and Clive's long cape will get caught in the food, or worse.
"Go, go! The hideaway needs fixing, and I can't think of any pair better than the two of you."
Hm. ] That's an exaggeration, [ he sigh-laughs, but obliges. It'll be a quick visit to their resident blacksmith for tools and a greeting before they can go fix the ledge they'd hopped the night prior, and Blackthorne will undoubtedly have less to say to the both of them than their kitchen head.
As they make their way across the main hall: ] ―I spoke to Otto, by the way. [ On the topic of errands. ] I can arrange Obolus to take the both of us to Rosaria's borders in two days' time, if you're keen.
[ Risky, with the general state of things recently, but not impossible. Sanbreque has been preoccupied with its skirmishes against the Dhalmeks, and Waloed...
...Well, Waloed is still a wildcard. But their presence is rarely felt this far to the west of the Twins, and Clive can't imagine them doing something brazen so far from their home turf. ]
[She smiles up at Clive. It sure is an exaggeration. An enthusiastic attitude to getting things done is all well and good, but Aerith really isn't knowledgeable on everything. Sometimes, she's just a very good actress.
In stride with him, her head tilts as she listens.]
Two days, huh... Of course I am. I mean. [Is she, though? She is, but.] If you still want to do that. [She has two days available to her if she wants to turn her thoughts over in her head and potentially get no sleep. Or. She could head all of that off at the pass and talk with him now.]
Clive, before we go, I need to tell you something. You might not want to go afterwards and I'd understand that, so it's fine if you change your mind. It might be important, though.
[And she should have said something much sooner. Better late than never, perhaps.]
Or. I'm concerned about nothing, which is possible.
[ A habit of Aerith's, Clive is finding: to offer something with the expectation that it might be rescinded a breath later. Maybe a case of pot and kettle. He's about to insist that the offer was his, and that it'll remain on the table as long as she's amenable to it－
－but now, there's this new bit of information to contend with. A nebulous Something that Aerith thinks might shift Clive's perception of her, which makes him stop mid-step.
Hm, he hums, brows pinching inwards just a sliver as he pivots, tilts, settles his focus. ]
If it's important to you, I'd hear it. [ No quick assumptions yet. Gesturing in the direction of his room: ] We can speak in my quarters. Less eyes and ears.
[Aerith watches, carefully, the shift of his expression, wondering for a moment what hers must look like. She doesn't even fully know what she'll say. It isn't a conversation she's really thought about how to have, which feels awfully shortsighted as she's looking at it objectively.
He gestures and she follows the direction he motions towards. Maybe that too is wiser, though it makes it sound like she is hiding something so terribly nefarious. It's... not. Right? Now she's second guessing herself.]
I'll make sure not to take up too much of your time with it.
[She almost says it won't be a problem, but she knows she can't promise that. She knows the way to his room, though. Aerith isn't afraid to go there. And she suspects he's right. In that place, she can say anything and it is probably the safest place she could exist in the world to make that happen.]
[ This floating island is a hideaway― it's meant to be safe. And safe is how Clive wants Aerith to feel, not necessarily just in his company, but in general: safe, seen, understood. And if there needs to be a space carved out for that, he can think of no better place than his room.
Up they go, past Blackthorne (they may yet consult him later, depending on the course of their upcoming conversation) and towards the short flight of stairs that leads up into that familiar, unchanged sleeping-quarters-turned-semi-office.
When they enter, Aerith might note that the bed is a bit more rumpled than the night prior; signs that Clive slept well enough that he didn't have time in the morning to tidy his sheets. He gestures towards the desk, then the unmade bed, giving Aerith the option of where she wants to sit with impunity. ]
Take as much time as you wish. [ Sincerely. ] My day is yours. I'd rather know all that needs saying than have you rush through it.
[Nerves flutter about the most quiet parts of her. The parts that people can only hear about and never see for themselves. She's so focused on what she's going to say, how she's going to lay it out, that she neglects giving a busy Blackthorne the way she normally would.
Up in his room, she takes stock of it again, more so when he gestures. Studying him for some moments, like she's trying to figure out where he might prefer for her to be, she isn't sure what the answer should be. Eventually, she slowly meanders her way towards his bed before she sits. From there, she lifts a hand and she splays her touch across it, wondering what she had expected. Maybe she thought he'd have slightly nicer arrangements. But that's not true. Clive is such a modest man. He wouldn't have wanted anything special. He would've wanted the same thing everyone else had.
It's evident that she's still thinking, still not really even sure where to begin. After a moment more, she folds her hands together in her lap, drawing her gaze up to him.]
I know I don't say much about— [Herself. Her situation. How she came to be here. Any of those would fit right into this slot. As she tilts her head ever in slight, she's still finding that the words just don't come out easily.] —why I'm here. Why I don't go out often. I'm not from Storm.
[After a moment, she settles back on her hands.] When I made contact with Cid some years back, it was because I had been chased out here. [Not here, here, she means, gesturing with a hand and trying to think of how far she must've gotten before Cid picked her up.] So I haven't really gone back out to settlements or where there are people outside of the hideaway since then.
[With her gaze fluttering from place to place in her thoughts, she eventually returns them to Clive.]
I'm not saying I don't want to. I do. I wouldn't want anything happening to you, or anyone else here, just because of me.
[ His weight and presence find themselves beside Aerith shortly after she starts speaking, steady and steadfast in the way it sinks the thin mattress. There's a polite handspan's worth of space between their knees; he keeps himself upright even when she settles back, ninety to her forty-five degrees.
"I'm not from Storm" doesn't raise alarm bells. Cid hadn't been, either－ somewhere from beyond the sea, he'd heard, and not even from the man himself. While it's true that he has no idea what being outside of Storm entails, he thinks that it doesn't change anything about who he thinks Aerith is: a kind, open-hearted woman with pain she carries close to her chest.
But he waits for Aerith to finish before he says anything of the sort, with his hands folded on his knees and the blue of his eyes calm, contemplative. ]
―You say 'chased'. [ This, first. ] And you have reason to believe that whoever chased you from your home would have found themselves here, to the Twins?
[ Not even touching the 'anything happening to him' part, yet. It matters very little what happens to him, as long as the people he loves are safe. ]
[After a moment's thought, she nods. That probably is the short version of everything. Of course, years later, is it a worthy prospect to pursue her? Is she that important? She wouldn't think of herself like that, but just because she feels that way doesn't mean anyone else does. And if she is important, she'd like it to be for more than what she is.]
It's possible. [Shifting, she leans forward, seemingly incapable of sitting still for the conversation. Maybe that's to be expected when she doesn't exactly know how to have that kind of talk.] Or they think I died somewhere out there. That's not likely.
[Too important to die.]
I don't know if they're still looking for me. Probably. But here we are, out in the middle of a place that isn't easy to get to. And since I don't really go out much, it'd be hard to get a look at me, let alone anything else. There's a saying about how luck doesn't last forever. I've been pretty lucky the last few years. Even I know I shouldn't rely on it. It might be smarter for me to go somewhere else, but even if I did, the story would be the same.
[ He sees the restlessness, and offers touch as an anchor to keep her grounded: a palm to the back of Aerith's hand, his sword-loved calluses brushing along her knuckles. It's often difficult to speak about the past when one has tried to outrun it, and harder still when it seems that the past is catching up.
(Sometimes, he still sees standard-issue Sanbrequois armor and feels his heart clench. Emotions, as ever, remain impossible to account for.)
This is where he can ask why they would be searching for Aerith－ what about her would make her pursuers cross the ocean to retrieve her, specifically? What is she holding within her, that makes her so valuable to these strange men and women beyond the Twins?
He doesn't ask, because he holds to that last bit: "the story would be the same. If not here, then wherever else." What matters isn't what Aerith is, but how Clive would like her to live her life. Free, unburdened. ]
Luck may not last forever, no, but there comes a time when you'll have to weigh that luck against the life that you'd like to lead. And I don't think a life of isolation suits you.
[ Having to always move from place to place, for fear of hurting the ones around her. No, that doesn't seem good or fine. ]
If you're being pursued, let them look. I'll see to it that, when the day comes, you won't have to face them alone.
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flamebrand) wrote2023-10-31 01:24 am
no subject
Oh well. That's for future Clive to contend with. A gaggle of children pass by them on their way to their destination, and he smiles as they giggle and chirp Cid's gotten all dirty with Aerith! as they scatter. ]
...When we get rid of the crystals, and we get rid of magick, my hope is that we can get closer to the world you're envisioning. All of us made equal, with the same choices and opportunities to live and thrive.
[ No Bearers, no Branded, no arbitrary guidelines used to punish arbitrary groups of people. An ideal, but a goal nevertheless. ]
Does it bother you, that I fight?
no subject
...When we get rid of the crystals, and we get rid of magick...
Yes. Maybe... that's all true. Maybe the crystals and magick is all to blame for this. But what does that mean for someone like her? Perhaps nothing good and maybe that part doesn't matter. Idly, she finds herself eyeing one of her hands. For the sliver of a moment, her expression shifts. Serious. A little more sombre. But it's only a beat of time, though it feels so much longer for her. The beat passes, no greater than the blink of an eye, and Aerith is back to... Aerith.]
All of us made equal. With the same choices and opportunities to live and thrive. [Her features soften.] What a beautiful world that could be.
[At his question, she shakes her head.] No. Of course not. I just wish you didn't have to. I wish no one here had to. I wish Cid never had to. People wouldn't have had to sacrifice themselves. Families wouldn't be split. Children wouldn't be without their parents. [Eyeing him thoughtfully, she continues.] You're fighting to make the world a better place, Clive. Seeing you fight so hard, it makes me want to do the same thing.
[In her own way.]
no subject
There and gone again. She repeats his words back at him, steady and sure, and her smile brightens the green of her eyes. A trick of the light? It's hard for Clive to tell, even when he's so close to her in physical distance, just within arm's reach.
The grief of someone who lost much because of the world, he tries to reason. There's something under Aerith's skin that sings of melancholy, and maybe it's because of it that she's so gentle, that she holds her wishes like sunlight in her palms. ]
...I fight, but I also kill. I wouldn't wish that on you.
[ Bloodstained hands, dirtied by sin. He flexes the one that isn't holding the bowl, feeling his fingers furl and unfurl. ]
You do more than enough, just being alive. Seeing all of this through to the end. I'd dare not ask more.
no subject
She'll have to answer that, one day. Sooner, rather than later. It's a terribly selfish thing otherwise.
Watching Clive curl his free hand up and release, she reaches over and as gently as she can muster, as if she could even be anything but gentle, her fingertips touch his palm and eventually hers presses to his. She is warm, as she often is. Soft. Brimming with the churning, living force of aether beneath her carefully crafted exterior.]
You also protect. You save lives.
[After a moment's consideration, Aerith draws her gaze down from him in the direction she'd seen the children disappear into.] You saved mine. You and Cid. If neither of you had found me, I get the feeling it's not something I could have talked myself out of. [Founders know she had certainly tried, more than once.]
You do a great many things and all with purpose.
[Her insides reeled, turning the rest of his words over. It's a hard thing, then, wanting to squeeze his hand. Contemplating the truth in what he says. Knowing he can say it all so easily without knowing the cost for her to do those things.
But he carries so many burdens already. Which is why—]
The aren't really other settlements, are there? Like the one here, I mean.
no subject
It is what it is. His gaze flits down to where Aerith is touching him, hand to ungloved hand, and he manages to look grateful for the contact before he furthers it with the loose curl of his fingers, his featherlight grip. ]
It was more Cid than me, [ regarding saving her, ] but either way― I'm glad you're here with us.
[ It makes life bearable, seeing her smile. ]
...And no, I haven't heard of anyone else mad enough to set up an operation quite like ours. There may be a few hidden safehouses scattered throughout the Twins, but none as large in scale as this one.
no subject
He isn't really wrong when he mentions Cid. He is the one who really instigated that rescue. Although she suspects that Clive would not have argued or done things differently. When it came to her, it's hard for her to imagine they weren't sharing the same intention at the time.
His hand soothes her. Just a little. But that small little fracture remains. Or maybe it's been there all along and she has tried to pretend it wasn't. That seems almost more accurate.]
This... Storm, I think it's called, right? [She rarely ever hears anyone in the hideaway refer to the continent itself.] It's so big. I haven't seen most of it. Except on maps. Paintings maybe. It's always hard for me to envision everything.
no subject
There are still so many things he doesn't know. So many things he hasn't seen. Him and her, they're equals in that regard. ]
Perhaps when this is all over, we can explore more of what this world has to offer.
[ A general 'we'. Like Aerith, Clive won't specify, though he'd like to see this world through her eyes, he thinks.
A light drumming of his fingers along the back of her hand, and Clive lets her go. They're moving towards a more densely-populated part of the hideaway, and he wants to spare her any teasing that might happen. ]
I'd like to show you Rosaria, at least.
no subject
Wouldn't that be nice? Aerith tries not to cling too hard to it, however. There may not be such a thing for her. It's something she always has to keep in consideration. Not because that's what she wants, but because false hope is... exactly that. And if she becomes too attached, that would only be troublesome.
He snags her attention when he releases her hand and it's such a strange thing, that she feels a little cold when he does.]
I'd like that, Clive.
[With hand freed, she slides it behind her back to eventually join with the other one.]
Until then, we'll just have to be satisfied with what we've got available to us. Don't think I've forgotten about your offer to take me with you next time. I'll make sure I'm on very good behaviour, of course. I won't get in the way or anything.
[Probably.]
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And I'll make sure not to embroil you in anything unsavory. [ Hm. ] ...Hopefully.
[ Best not to make promises he can't keep; trouble finds him everywhere. A simple errand to go pick flowers usually ends with him fighting for his life against a monster five times his size, so. He'll have to protect Aerith, wherever they go. (Not such a daunting prospect, that.)
The men and women manning the kitchen look up when Clive and Aerith approach. Delivery, Clive announces, and one of them wipes her hand on her apron, bright eyes looking the both of them up and down.
"Well, don't you two make a pretty picture!" ]
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She's not said it, but there are reasons Aerith doesn't travel out often. The last thing she wants is for a piece of her past to catch up to her. But it's been... some years, hasn't it? And those years for Aerith have been surprisingly quiet. Each time she goes out, however, it's a risk to take.
...She should say something to Clive. After some moments of thought, she concludes that she has to. So she will. When they're setting out.
Her thoughts turn when he announces their delivery and the moment they're assessed, she grins from ear to ear, looking pleased.]
Yes, we are. [She says, seeming extremely proud. Casting a look up to Clive, it's only a beat before it returns to a set of eyes that could quite possibly rival her own.] 'Cid' did a really good job. I'm trying to talk him into helping out in the gardens more often. I'll have more for you in a couple of days. If there's something you want us to grow in particular, we might be able to get it for you, so don't be afraid to ask.
[It might be a long shot, but there's never any harm in anything. She offers a hopeful look to Clive.]
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And, well― ] ―It's as she says. A joint effort, on both of our parts.
[ To that, Molly finally sidles up to them from where she'd been busy tending to her stews, and delightedly clasps her hands in front of her. Just nosy enough to telegraph curiosity, but just mindful enough not to push too hard for details.
"Is that right? I'll have to take a look at my recipes, then― see if I can't get you two to fetch me something interesting."
She winks; it goes a bit over Clive's head, and he tips his head to the side. ]
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Whether Aerith notices what exactly Molly is looking for between them is somewhat unknown. To be fair, it's a valid curiosity for anyone to see Aerith and Clive together, perhaps in any capacity. He helps out everyone in the hideaway, of course, so it's not like helping her is out of the ordinary or something worth immediately speculating. So maybe it's the way they've both dirt smudged on their faces. Or maybe it's that Aerith seems to be glowing just a little more than she normally might.
Clive winds up being not the only one to tip his head. It is likely that she picks up on some kind of implication, but chooses not to address it. For his sake. For her own. Who can really say when Aerith is at the helm of such thoughts.]
If you consider making some baked apples, I'll put in an extra good word for you with him. [She can't resist. It's a little flirtatious, that look she gives to Clive, but she seems to be teasing. Maybe.]
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Doesn't keep his heart from fluttering when Aerith looks at him like that, though. He's fairly certain that she's incapable of insincerity, even when she's trying to obfuscate; her masks still have a distinct feel that of her.
It makes him quirk a brow, then relax. ]
Nefarious, the both of you. I won't have bribery in this Hideaway.
[ Fondly, without chiding at all. Molly laughs, as if she's surprised that 'Cid' is playing along; Clive wonders if he really projects himself as so sullen and joyless all the time. ]
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So instead, she manages to huff out a laugh into a hand.]
Spoilsport. We're just a couple of girls trying have fun. But if you're looking for more to do...
[Aerith straightens her posture, tries to at least seem a little more serious, and clears her throat.]
There's that ledge. The one that's partially broken. I don't think the full thing needs to be replaced, but at least the portion that's incomplete. Otherwise, someone's going to lose their footing and get hurt.
[She knows even if she's not the one doing it, someone else (probably more suited) will, but there's really no time like the present.]
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Ah. After bribery comes coercion.
[ Content to continue on in this vein of casual banter, comfortable to be seen by Aerith, with her. There's no shame in being known in these small, happy moments, no embarrassment that his affection for someone so luminous is rightly perceived－ Aerith is good company, and what of it? Who's going to argue with him?
He can see Molly tittering in the background, having gotten over her intial surprise. As always, things brighten whenever Aerith is involved. ]
Fine－ I'll get the hammer and nails ready for my lady.
[ A hand over his chest again; another low-sweeping bow. ]
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It's not coercion at all! I didn't say you had to do it. I just said if you were looking for more to do. I can do it all just fine all by myself.
[It won't be 'just fine,' though Aerith is a very impressively independent woman. Having Clive's assistance would be a boon. And it's one she'd like to have, so when he agrees to help, even if he's teasing, her grin relaxes into a smile.
She eyes Molly fondly, a tilt of her head.]
Well, you heard him. We have a ledge to fix. If you can think of anything else or notice anything else that could use a helping hand, let me know.
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"Go, go! The hideaway needs fixing, and I can't think of any pair better than the two of you."
Hm. ] That's an exaggeration, [ he sigh-laughs, but obliges. It'll be a quick visit to their resident blacksmith for tools and a greeting before they can go fix the ledge they'd hopped the night prior, and Blackthorne will undoubtedly have less to say to the both of them than their kitchen head.
As they make their way across the main hall: ] ―I spoke to Otto, by the way. [ On the topic of errands. ] I can arrange Obolus to take the both of us to Rosaria's borders in two days' time, if you're keen.
[ Risky, with the general state of things recently, but not impossible. Sanbreque has been preoccupied with its skirmishes against the Dhalmeks, and Waloed...
...Well, Waloed is still a wildcard. But their presence is rarely felt this far to the west of the Twins, and Clive can't imagine them doing something brazen so far from their home turf. ]
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In stride with him, her head tilts as she listens.]
Two days, huh... Of course I am. I mean. [Is she, though? She is, but.] If you still want to do that. [She has two days available to her if she wants to turn her thoughts over in her head and potentially get no sleep. Or. She could head all of that off at the pass and talk with him now.]
Clive, before we go, I need to tell you something. You might not want to go afterwards and I'd understand that, so it's fine if you change your mind. It might be important, though.
[And she should have said something much sooner. Better late than never, perhaps.]
Or. I'm concerned about nothing, which is possible.
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－but now, there's this new bit of information to contend with. A nebulous Something that Aerith thinks might shift Clive's perception of her, which makes him stop mid-step.
Hm, he hums, brows pinching inwards just a sliver as he pivots, tilts, settles his focus. ]
If it's important to you, I'd hear it. [ No quick assumptions yet. Gesturing in the direction of his room: ] We can speak in my quarters. Less eyes and ears.
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He gestures and she follows the direction he motions towards. Maybe that too is wiser, though it makes it sound like she is hiding something so terribly nefarious. It's... not. Right? Now she's second guessing herself.]
I'll make sure not to take up too much of your time with it.
[She almost says it won't be a problem, but she knows she can't promise that. She knows the way to his room, though. Aerith isn't afraid to go there. And she suspects he's right. In that place, she can say anything and it is probably the safest place she could exist in the world to make that happen.]
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Up they go, past Blackthorne (they may yet consult him later, depending on the course of their upcoming conversation) and towards the short flight of stairs that leads up into that familiar, unchanged sleeping-quarters-turned-semi-office.
When they enter, Aerith might note that the bed is a bit more rumpled than the night prior; signs that Clive slept well enough that he didn't have time in the morning to tidy his sheets. He gestures towards the desk, then the unmade bed, giving Aerith the option of where she wants to sit with impunity. ]
Take as much time as you wish. [ Sincerely. ] My day is yours. I'd rather know all that needs saying than have you rush through it.
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Up in his room, she takes stock of it again, more so when he gestures. Studying him for some moments, like she's trying to figure out where he might prefer for her to be, she isn't sure what the answer should be. Eventually, she slowly meanders her way towards his bed before she sits. From there, she lifts a hand and she splays her touch across it, wondering what she had expected. Maybe she thought he'd have slightly nicer arrangements. But that's not true. Clive is such a modest man. He wouldn't have wanted anything special. He would've wanted the same thing everyone else had.
It's evident that she's still thinking, still not really even sure where to begin. After a moment more, she folds her hands together in her lap, drawing her gaze up to him.]
I know I don't say much about— [Herself. Her situation. How she came to be here. Any of those would fit right into this slot. As she tilts her head ever in slight, she's still finding that the words just don't come out easily.] —why I'm here. Why I don't go out often. I'm not from Storm.
[After a moment, she settles back on her hands.] When I made contact with Cid some years back, it was because I had been chased out here. [Not here, here, she means, gesturing with a hand and trying to think of how far she must've gotten before Cid picked her up.] So I haven't really gone back out to settlements or where there are people outside of the hideaway since then.
[With her gaze fluttering from place to place in her thoughts, she eventually returns them to Clive.]
I'm not saying I don't want to. I do. I wouldn't want anything happening to you, or anyone else here, just because of me.
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"I'm not from Storm" doesn't raise alarm bells. Cid hadn't been, either－ somewhere from beyond the sea, he'd heard, and not even from the man himself. While it's true that he has no idea what being outside of Storm entails, he thinks that it doesn't change anything about who he thinks Aerith is: a kind, open-hearted woman with pain she carries close to her chest.
But he waits for Aerith to finish before he says anything of the sort, with his hands folded on his knees and the blue of his eyes calm, contemplative. ]
―You say 'chased'. [ This, first. ] And you have reason to believe that whoever chased you from your home would have found themselves here, to the Twins?
[ Not even touching the 'anything happening to him' part, yet. It matters very little what happens to him, as long as the people he loves are safe. ]
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[After a moment's thought, she nods. That probably is the short version of everything. Of course, years later, is it a worthy prospect to pursue her? Is she that important? She wouldn't think of herself like that, but just because she feels that way doesn't mean anyone else does. And if she is important, she'd like it to be for more than what she is.]
It's possible. [Shifting, she leans forward, seemingly incapable of sitting still for the conversation. Maybe that's to be expected when she doesn't exactly know how to have that kind of talk.] Or they think I died somewhere out there. That's not likely.
[Too important to die.]
I don't know if they're still looking for me. Probably. But here we are, out in the middle of a place that isn't easy to get to. And since I don't really go out much, it'd be hard to get a look at me, let alone anything else. There's a saying about how luck doesn't last forever. I've been pretty lucky the last few years. Even I know I shouldn't rely on it. It might be smarter for me to go somewhere else, but even if I did, the story would be the same.
[She shakes her head.]
If not here, then wherever else I'd be going to.
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(Sometimes, he still sees standard-issue Sanbrequois armor and feels his heart clench. Emotions, as ever, remain impossible to account for.)
This is where he can ask why they would be searching for Aerith－ what about her would make her pursuers cross the ocean to retrieve her, specifically? What is she holding within her, that makes her so valuable to these strange men and women beyond the Twins?
He doesn't ask, because he holds to that last bit: "the story would be the same. If not here, then wherever else." What matters isn't what Aerith is, but how Clive would like her to live her life. Free, unburdened. ]
Luck may not last forever, no, but there comes a time when you'll have to weigh that luck against the life that you'd like to lead. And I don't think a life of isolation suits you.
[ Having to always move from place to place, for fear of hurting the ones around her. No, that doesn't seem good or fine. ]
If you're being pursued, let them look. I'll see to it that, when the day comes, you won't have to face them alone.
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🎀💕!