[ soon, Clive says, and he makes good on that promise. it's two moons and a bit when he finally returns, ferried back by a grousing Obolus; the children mill by the docks, welcoming him and demanding stories in the same breath.
as always, he (gently) sics Torgal on them― ultimately, they'll always choose the big furry creature over the big, tired man. just as well, though. he's looking for someone specific.
after making his customary report to Otto, he winds his way through the main hall of the skeletal innards of the Hideaway. Lady Charon, who always sees right through him, tells him that she saw Jill helping Tarja in the Infirmary; "well? don't keep a lady waiting", she snaps, and that's Clive's cue.
so. that's why he greets Jill with dust from Dalimil still clinging to his clothes. Tarja raises her brow when he strides in, but politely sees herself out, citing a need to talk to Harpocrates about something. ]
Jill.
...You look well. [ okay, not the smoothest opener, but. it is what it is. ]
Time apart is never easy, but she understands that they can often accomplish more by being in two places at once. Still, it sometimes feels unfair after so much time was stolen away from them. When she turns and sees Clive, leathers a shade lighter from the road, it's all forgotten.]
Clive.
[She greets him with a wide smile. There's always her cursory check--no visible wounds, no gaping holes or bruises or harm that lingers despite being a Dominant. Just fatigue, perhaps, but that can be easily fixed.]
Welcome back. I thought I heard a commotion out there.
[Everyone is always glad to see him, but none as much as Jill. Yet there's that hesitation--manners and etiquette taught to them both at a young age about how a young lord and lady should act, but they're neither of those things, now. They're something else. It's there for a moment before Jill pushes past it to step in and embrace Clive, not minding the transfer of dust from him to her. She missed him too much to care about propriety.]
[ her smile. physically, Clive remains upright; mentally and emotionally, he feels his entire equilibrium shift from the sheer force of the expression on Jill's face. something about hearts and doing backflips, he thinks― if he usually runs warm, thanks to all that hellfire nestled in his being, he must be burning now.
a moment to remember to breathe, and Clive catches Jill in the loop of his own arms, resting his chin carefully against the side of her head, cheek to soft hair. ]
―I was looking for you, [ he promises, making sure that his hands don't stray too impolitely down the perfect arch of Jill's back. just around the middle, under her shoulderblades. he's reminded of all the times he'd wanted to touch her, only to curl his fingers back from nervous second-guessing. ] Am I interrupting anything?
[She smiles into the embrace, and it lingers on her lips as she politely pulls back, hands giving his arms a squeeze before letting go. As much as she would like to stay in them, it's not appropriate, and she thinks they both might expire should someone walk in.]
No, you aren't. I was hoping you'd make it back today and was just helping Tarja to pass the time.
[She motions to a nearby empty bed with fresh linens, neatly made and ready for its next patient whoever that may be.]
[ over too soon. he's reminded of recent memory, of sitting on one of those neatly-made beds and almost brushing noses with the woman currently beaming up at him―
―begone, impure thoughts. founder, he must be more tired than he'd thought. ]
The usual. Being called identical to Torgal was the highlight, actually.
[ the rest of it was fairly routine: run around, swing his sword at hostiles. he has a small bruise on his side from where a wild chocobo kicked him, but nothing worse than that. ]
Bandits and Akashic run rampant. Everyone is tired and uncertain― it'll be good to visit them periodically, called upon or no.
They don't appreciate Torgal for how striking he is.
[As is Clive, but a man of his size and physique tends to draw attention. She misses the days when he would wear his hair shorter and neater, but she understands the need to make the scar on his face less obvious. A shame it makes it harder to see the perfect blue of his eyes.
One day, Jill consoles herself, no one will need to hide. Clive included.]
[ schedules and duties allowing. there's so much that needs doing that has nothing to do with what Clive prefers; Joshua returning to them has been a joy he didn't dare to even dream of, but with that joy also comes the stark reminder of his ever-present guilt, and all the ways in which future failures could prove catastrophic.
still, Jill's offer warms him. she needn't be burdened unduly by the things in his head-- he's already taken so much of her over the past five years.
so. a smile, soft and gentle. ]
I feel safer already. [ not even a suggestion of facetiousness. he gestures for her to follow him out of the Infirmary, not content to continue exiling Tarja from her space. ] ...We can speak over a pint, if you'd like. It's been an age and some since we've had some time to breathe.
[ they can take their glasses back to his quarters. Maeve is, understandably, lenient with the man who often buys rounds for the house. ]
[Jill follows his lead with a pleased smile. Spending any amount of time with him is a joy, be it at a campfire in the middle of nowhere or a busy pub. Of course, the privacy of his quarters is best, though she keeps an ear out for approaching footsteps. Clive's often needed by far more people than her.
Still, it's nice to have him to herself, if only for a little while. ]
Would you like to get comfortable while I get the drinks?
[It's more of a request than a question, but she doesn't like to order him around. He should at least go and sit--it won't take long, but the sooner he's off his feet, the less she'll fret.]
[ a strong suggestion, rather than a question. Clive laughs about it despite himself, stepping aside to let two Bearer children chase Torgal across the main hall. ]
I'm alright, Jill. [ one would think he came back with a giant hole in his stomach, the way she's fussing. still, her concern makes his heart swell; the smile stays, as he fumbles inside his pack for the necessary amount of gil for two pints. ] But I appreciate you doing me the honor.
[ so, yes, he'll go and dress down and behave. his hand brushes against Jill's as he hands the gil over, and it's after that lingering touch that he turns to head towards the stairs leading up into his quarters, already moving to unclip the cape from his shoulders. ]
[He's not missing a limb or bleeding profusely, but Jill can't help herself. It's instinct to look after the man that woukd run himself ragged to keep them all safe. She laughs when he does, but in the end, he listens--and that is what matters most, in this given moment. He can at least get a head start on sitting while she gets their drinks.
When she does eventually make it to his quarters, she calls out rather than invites herself in. Through the door (all this barely nailed together wood and scraps makes it easy to speak through), she clears her throat.]
It was insisted we take a bottle of wine, on the house. I tried to decline, but...
[She shifts, his gil jingling in her pocket. In one hand she holds a bottle and two cups tucked under her arm, and in the other a tray of dried meat and cheese, hastily thrown together for Clive's return. A snack rather than a full meal. Clive is well-loved in the Hideaway, and she had to talk down any attempt to wrestle him up a supper--maybe after he sleeps.]
[ Jill calls to him, and after a moment of rustling and clattering on the other side of the door (bits of armor being moved aside to be cleaned and cared for later), it swings open. ]
Decent enough. [ he's shaken the dust out of his hair, and peeled off his sharper layers. no greaves, no gauntlets, no shoulderplates― just his leathers, and the thin white shirt he wears under his red top. more a man than monster, when he's stripped down.
without being prompted, he takes the tray and cups from Jill, and motions for her to make herself comfortable near the desk that he usually uses to pen missives. not the bed, to avoid being entirely too presumptuous or improper out of the gate. ]
Maeve can't resist a good opportunity to ply us with drink. [ it's kind of her, especially when neither of them can afford to be drunk on-duty. ] Sit down, Jill. I've something for you.
[Jill allows him to free her hands without complaint. She's only glad to see him looking less battle ready. He never takes enough time for himself--she supposes Cid must have been the same. All his time and energy spent investing in his dream, his people, in freedom. Wherever he is, she hopes he's proud.
As she sits, she looks to Clive with a fond smile that comes reflexively. She's proud of him, at the very least.
What he says makes her eyebrows lift in curious surprise.]
[ the cups and the tray get settled on the desk after he moves all the bits and scraps to the side; notes from Gav, reports from local towns and villages.
later. he pulls out a chair for Jill to sit on, and offers her a reciprocal smile before he makes his way over to where he'd set his traveling packs down on the floor. a bit of rifling later, he fishes something out― two somethings, in fact.
he comes back with both, and sets the first one on the desk in front of Jill. a very clearly hand-made soft toy, roughly in the shape of Torgal: lumpy and clumsy, but sweet. ]
One of the children at Martha's made this for you. [ recalling what the girl'd said, so he can relay it accurately: ] "For the very pretty Lady in Blue, because she must be lonely without her dog when you take him with you."
[ Torgal, the hottest commodity this side of the Twins. The other item that Clive is holding is more obviously something he purchased for Jill. ]
[Normally, she would get right to pouring for them both. Old habits, old manners, instilled at a young age amongst memories of her father's war table and quietly filling his glass, his smile warm despite the increasingly bleak mood. It's a memory that has become hazy over the years despite her best efforts to remember.
Melancholy is fortunately chased away by the thing placed before her.
(Thank the Founder he begins by explaining a child made this, lest she think he had some hand in it...)
After a stunned moment, Jill laughs, reaching out to carefully lift the stuffed Torgal. It's a little ugly, but entirely cute. She's so charmed she doesn't realize Clive has something else in addition.]
How did they know? Now I won't miss him as terribly.
[Though it would probably look best on Clive's shelf with his collection of momentos.]
[ (things Clive didn't learn during his days as royalty: how to sew. any attempt he'd make to fashion something cute would end up with him making something horrendous and misshapen. morbols instead of chocobos.)
he watches Jill turn the stuffed toy in her hands, and wonders if it's even worth giving his second gift to her; it hardly seems adequate compared to something handmade. ]
The intuition of children. You've a way with them. [ he huffs in amusement, content to watch her fiddle with mini-Torgal while he pours the both of them a glass. it's the sort of moment he'd like to immortalize in his memory, to recall back to if he ever falters. this is what you're fighting for, you dunce.
the second item, a little glass vial, sits on his lap. ]
["Torgal" has some stuffing coming out of his leg that Jill discretely pushes back in and makes a mental note to stitch up. It's sweet, and she has a fondness for the innocence of children because she knows all too well how fragile it is. No children should have to suffer how she or Clive or Joshua have, torn apart from their families, forced into slavery. Every day Clive fights for that better future.
She sets the stuffed toy back down--facing Clive, of course--and looks to him, flattered.]
I think they just enjoy the opportunity I offer them to pet Torgal.
[When not teaching the boys to sew or the girls how to parry.
The glint of the glass vial catches Jill's eye, finally, and she hums softly.]
[ filled glasses settle on the desk, and bare, callus-riddled hands move to pick up the vial in question. Clive wrestles with himself for a moment, considering how best to offer this next, slightly more personal gift, but doesn't waver overmuch; it would be a disservice to Jill to assume the worst of her.
it's not quite mini-Torgal, but it's something. a small, crystalline vial that rounds gracefully on the bottom, filled with a translucent blue liquid. he turns it over between his fingers, then hands it over to Jill. ]
...Perfume, originally from the Northern Territories. [ a rare leftover from a culture devastated by the Blight. Clive'd wondered if it would be gauche to give something of the homeland his family had took her from, but: ] "First Snow", is what the shopkeep'd named the scent. I...
[ hm. ] ...It made me think of you. [ too forward? honest, at least. blue eyes flick to the side, slightly bashful, before returning to settle on Jill again with more conviction. ]
[In that moment he looks like the young boy she'd grown so fond of in Rosaria, shy despite his station and skill with a blade. They really haven't changed all that much, have they? She'd spent many nights in Rosaria hiding glassy eyes as the thought of home gripped her, sometimes out of the blue no matter how many much she told herself that Rosaria was her new home. Now, she finds her eyes glassy again, blinking rapidly for a moment before she can assure herself she won't cry. She misses home--both of them, now--but she's more touched that Clive carefully brought this thoughtful gift back to her. She looks at the vial in her hands and finally lets out a breath, smiling with her own bashful look to him.]
Oh, Clive. I'll cherish this.
[It's a precious thing even without the emotional attachment. She can't remember the last time she wore perfume, given the lives they lead. There's a slight tremble to her hand when she delicately opens the vial and lifts it to her nose.
Some note in it does remind her of a time before she knew Clive and Joshua, when she was young and carefree and watched her mother braid her long hair. Did she smell anything like this? She wishes she could remember with absolutely certainty. But maybe it's okay to simply assume it was something close.]
It's beautiful. Thank you, Clive, I... I think you've robbed me of my words.
[ a part of him is still leaning against balcony railings, looking up at the night sky before leaving for Phoenix Gate. here he is again, rendered helpless by Jill's misty-eyed strength, trying to fathom the depth of everything she's suffered. she'd seemed so ethereal back then when they were children, a thing he could melt in his hand if he touched with his hot, callused hand, but now―
―his hand finds the crest of Jill's shoulder. fingers splay outwards, fanning sideways to sift through long hair. ]
...A shame. I enjoy them. [ his lips quirk upwards; a light joke. gods above and below, she's so devastatingly beautiful.
a moment to inhale, and he adds: ] When this is all over, and we can live however we wish―
[ an exhale this time, to steady himself. ] ―I pray that you wear it, and feel at peace.
[So often, she finds herself grateful that he's remained kind despite their lives being anything but. His heart is gentle, and she would do anything to see it kept safe. It's why she swallows down the extent of how deeply touched she is, not wanting to worry him even with tears of joy.
But she does move to embrace him again, fingers carefully wrapped around the vial. In the privacy of his quarters she allows more of herself to lean into him, unworried about sudden interruptions.
He always thinks of her. How lucky she is to have him back in her life, to be able to hug him in her arms.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thanks for moving us over! 💖
[Whether that's making sure the children stay out of trouble or their associates don't charge headfirst into fights beyond their capabilities.]
no worries! 💕 they are So Important...
🥹
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as always, he (gently) sics Torgal on them― ultimately, they'll always choose the big furry creature over the big, tired man. just as well, though. he's looking for someone specific.
after making his customary report to Otto, he winds his way through the main hall of the skeletal innards of the Hideaway. Lady Charon, who always sees right through him, tells him that she saw Jill helping Tarja in the Infirmary; "well? don't keep a lady waiting", she snaps, and that's Clive's cue.
so. that's why he greets Jill with dust from Dalimil still clinging to his clothes. Tarja raises her brow when he strides in, but politely sees herself out, citing a need to talk to Harpocrates about something. ]
Jill.
...You look well. [ okay, not the smoothest opener, but. it is what it is. ]
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Time apart is never easy, but she understands that they can often accomplish more by being in two places at once. Still, it sometimes feels unfair after so much time was stolen away from them. When she turns and sees Clive, leathers a shade lighter from the road, it's all forgotten.]
Clive.
[She greets him with a wide smile. There's always her cursory check--no visible wounds, no gaping holes or bruises or harm that lingers despite being a Dominant. Just fatigue, perhaps, but that can be easily fixed.]
Welcome back. I thought I heard a commotion out there.
[Everyone is always glad to see him, but none as much as Jill. Yet there's that hesitation--manners and etiquette taught to them both at a young age about how a young lord and lady should act, but they're neither of those things, now. They're something else. It's there for a moment before Jill pushes past it to step in and embrace Clive, not minding the transfer of dust from him to her. She missed him too much to care about propriety.]
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a moment to remember to breathe, and Clive catches Jill in the loop of his own arms, resting his chin carefully against the side of her head, cheek to soft hair. ]
―I was looking for you, [ he promises, making sure that his hands don't stray too impolitely down the perfect arch of Jill's back. just around the middle, under her shoulderblades. he's reminded of all the times he'd wanted to touch her, only to curl his fingers back from nervous second-guessing. ] Am I interrupting anything?
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No, you aren't. I was hoping you'd make it back today and was just helping Tarja to pass the time.
[She motions to a nearby empty bed with fresh linens, neatly made and ready for its next patient whoever that may be.]
How was your journey? Unwelcome remarks aside.
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―begone, impure thoughts. founder, he must be more tired than he'd thought. ]
The usual. Being called identical to Torgal was the highlight, actually.
[ the rest of it was fairly routine: run around, swing his sword at hostiles. he has a small bruise on his side from where a wild chocobo kicked him, but nothing worse than that. ]
Bandits and Akashic run rampant. Everyone is tired and uncertain― it'll be good to visit them periodically, called upon or no.
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[As is Clive, but a man of his size and physique tends to draw attention. She misses the days when he would wear his hair shorter and neater, but she understands the need to make the scar on his face less obvious. A shame it makes it harder to see the perfect blue of his eyes.
One day, Jill consoles herself, no one will need to hide. Clive included.]
I will accompany you next time.
[... schedules and duties allowing, of course.]
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still, Jill's offer warms him. she needn't be burdened unduly by the things in his head-- he's already taken so much of her over the past five years.
so. a smile, soft and gentle. ]
I feel safer already. [ not even a suggestion of facetiousness. he gestures for her to follow him out of the Infirmary, not content to continue exiling Tarja from her space. ] ...We can speak over a pint, if you'd like. It's been an age and some since we've had some time to breathe.
[ they can take their glasses back to his quarters. Maeve is, understandably, lenient with the man who often buys rounds for the house. ]
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Still, it's nice to have him to herself, if only for a little while. ]
Would you like to get comfortable while I get the drinks?
[It's more of a request than a question, but she doesn't like to order him around. He should at least go and sit--it won't take long, but the sooner he's off his feet, the less she'll fret.]
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I'm alright, Jill. [ one would think he came back with a giant hole in his stomach, the way she's fussing. still, her concern makes his heart swell; the smile stays, as he fumbles inside his pack for the necessary amount of gil for two pints. ] But I appreciate you doing me the honor.
[ so, yes, he'll go and dress down and behave. his hand brushes against Jill's as he hands the gil over, and it's after that lingering touch that he turns to head towards the stairs leading up into his quarters, already moving to unclip the cape from his shoulders. ]
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When she does eventually make it to his quarters, she calls out rather than invites herself in. Through the door (all this barely nailed together wood and scraps makes it easy to speak through), she clears her throat.]
It was insisted we take a bottle of wine, on the house. I tried to decline, but...
[She shifts, his gil jingling in her pocket. In one hand she holds a bottle and two cups tucked under her arm, and in the other a tray of dried meat and cheese, hastily thrown together for Clive's return. A snack rather than a full meal. Clive is well-loved in the Hideaway, and she had to talk down any attempt to wrestle him up a supper--maybe after he sleeps.]
Are you decent, Clive?
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Decent enough. [ he's shaken the dust out of his hair, and peeled off his sharper layers. no greaves, no gauntlets, no shoulderplates― just his leathers, and the thin white shirt he wears under his red top. more a man than monster, when he's stripped down.
without being prompted, he takes the tray and cups from Jill, and motions for her to make herself comfortable near the desk that he usually uses to pen missives. not the bed, to avoid being entirely too presumptuous or improper out of the gate. ]
Maeve can't resist a good opportunity to ply us with drink. [ it's kind of her, especially when neither of them can afford to be drunk on-duty. ] Sit down, Jill. I've something for you.
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As she sits, she looks to Clive with a fond smile that comes reflexively. She's proud of him, at the very least.
What he says makes her eyebrows lift in curious surprise.]
Something for me?
[She echoes. Who else, Jill?]
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later. he pulls out a chair for Jill to sit on, and offers her a reciprocal smile before he makes his way over to where he'd set his traveling packs down on the floor. a bit of rifling later, he fishes something out― two somethings, in fact.
he comes back with both, and sets the first one on the desk in front of Jill. a very clearly hand-made soft toy, roughly in the shape of Torgal: lumpy and clumsy, but sweet. ]
One of the children at Martha's made this for you. [ recalling what the girl'd said, so he can relay it accurately: ] "For the very pretty Lady in Blue, because she must be lonely without her dog when you take him with you."
[ Torgal, the hottest commodity this side of the Twins. The other item that Clive is holding is more obviously something he purchased for Jill. ]
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Melancholy is fortunately chased away by the thing placed before her.
(Thank the Founder he begins by explaining a child made this, lest she think he had some hand in it...)
After a stunned moment, Jill laughs, reaching out to carefully lift the stuffed Torgal. It's a little ugly, but entirely cute. She's so charmed she doesn't realize Clive has something else in addition.]
How did they know? Now I won't miss him as terribly.
[Though it would probably look best on Clive's shelf with his collection of momentos.]
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he watches Jill turn the stuffed toy in her hands, and wonders if it's even worth giving his second gift to her; it hardly seems adequate compared to something handmade. ]
The intuition of children. You've a way with them. [ he huffs in amusement, content to watch her fiddle with mini-Torgal while he pours the both of them a glass. it's the sort of moment he'd like to immortalize in his memory, to recall back to if he ever falters. this is what you're fighting for, you dunce.
the second item, a little glass vial, sits on his lap. ]
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She sets the stuffed toy back down--facing Clive, of course--and looks to him, flattered.]
I think they just enjoy the opportunity I offer them to pet Torgal.
[When not teaching the boys to sew or the girls how to parry.
The glint of the glass vial catches Jill's eye, finally, and she hums softly.]
And what is that?
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it's not quite mini-Torgal, but it's something. a small, crystalline vial that rounds gracefully on the bottom, filled with a translucent blue liquid. he turns it over between his fingers, then hands it over to Jill. ]
...Perfume, originally from the Northern Territories. [ a rare leftover from a culture devastated by the Blight. Clive'd wondered if it would be gauche to give something of the homeland his family had took her from, but: ] "First Snow", is what the shopkeep'd named the scent. I...
[ hm. ] ...It made me think of you. [ too forward? honest, at least. blue eyes flick to the side, slightly bashful, before returning to settle on Jill again with more conviction. ]
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Oh, Clive. I'll cherish this.
[It's a precious thing even without the emotional attachment. She can't remember the last time she wore perfume, given the lives they lead. There's a slight tremble to her hand when she delicately opens the vial and lifts it to her nose.
Some note in it does remind her of a time before she knew Clive and Joshua, when she was young and carefree and watched her mother braid her long hair. Did she smell anything like this? She wishes she could remember with absolutely certainty. But maybe it's okay to simply assume it was something close.]
It's beautiful. Thank you, Clive, I... I think you've robbed me of my words.
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―his hand finds the crest of Jill's shoulder. fingers splay outwards, fanning sideways to sift through long hair. ]
...A shame. I enjoy them. [ his lips quirk upwards; a light joke. gods above and below, she's so devastatingly beautiful.
a moment to inhale, and he adds: ] When this is all over, and we can live however we wish―
[ an exhale this time, to steady himself. ] ―I pray that you wear it, and feel at peace.
THEY'RE SO CUTE
But she does move to embrace him again, fingers carefully wrapped around the vial. In the privacy of his quarters she allows more of herself to lean into him, unworried about sudden interruptions.
He always thinks of her. How lucky she is to have him back in her life, to be able to hug him in her arms.]
If you're by my side, I'll be at peace.
[He's far more important than perfume.]
That's all I need.
😭😭😭 let them be HAPPY
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https://i.imgur.com/pg83smk.jpeg constantly dead and dying about their size dif
he's going to be her weighted blanket 🥹 and/or mattress... or somehow both at the same time
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