This worlds eclipsed and it doesn't matter where he runs. He's opened all the doors, and he's looked within all the worlds. She's there in a whisper, and gone in the next. She's there with eyes that do not recognize him, and curiosity brewing behind every movement. There's no mistaking that smile, and the flowers that always seemed to sprout where she walked.

If he turns one way he can catch a glimpse of that braid, and if he looks another there's always that ribbon of pink just within the corner of his eye. Those worlds were cruel in making her always just brief finger touches away. He's run until his legs have become weak, and he's gone until he's exhausted his strength of will. The fear is getting harder to keep at bay, and that darkness is always at his heel.

There's no one with eyes that look the way hers always do—glowing brighter than the lifestream ever could.

There's no one who's smile brightened at the hand of one small flower sale—warmer than the sun could ever manage to heat the earth.

Beneath the storm that was his heart was the rain of tears that gave way when he let her hand go. Deeper still she disappeared submerged and down below the water—the pour of his tears never seeming to cease as shoulders took on the weight of a sorrow so desolate and suffocating.

I'll come back when it's all over.

She had left him alone in this darkness—left to hold out against the odds stacked against them. She had done what she could, and she had sought out a promise she had intended to keep. There's no denying that regret would never touch her. That firm grip upon his shoulder is undoubtedly her.

Why had they forsaken him?

Why had they brought this sort of madness down upon him?

Against it all he fought, and he struggled—the promise land is where he'll find her at. The weight of his sword increasing with each step. Every second, and every moment they were unable to meet just another weight added upon layers and layers of anguish.

Those doors had held promise, and held a hope far beyond what he thought he could feel once again. Those worlds gave him the push—to bring it all crashing down.

There deep within the city she's selling those flowers once again. Those vivid bright whites, and yellows unmistakable—those curls of auburn tamed by the weathered green cloth upon her head. Air had lost it's way the minute he had caught sight of her. Connected instantly by a look, and a tilt of that head. She's looking at him with all the curiosity that lingered when she walked beside him, and not high above him.

In this world, she's here.

In this world, she breathes untouched by the water she had sunk deep within.

This crushing weight upon his lungs is the only thing that holds him back from reaching out to her. There's no recognition within those eyes that dared to share the color of the rich spring earth. Fingers twitch and as he finally takes in the air meant to keep him moving—

"Something wrong?" her voice is soft and laced within hesitation, "Do I resemble someone?"

It's these simple question that forces the air he had meant to obtain out from him and locks it within his lungs. The widening of his eyes he knows gives him away and yet he cannot stop it from painting across his face—that dip of his bottom lips, and the upraise of his brows—for her to see.

Those eyes of hers that dared to share the rich spring see it all and there's an interest forming almost tangible before him, and a dip of her head as she flutters through expressions he's seen before, "Buy a flower? It's only one gil."

Fingers small and slender are extending forth with steps bringing her closer before him. There's a fear that he may very well be the ghost and she could walk right through him. Shaky hands and fingers full of hesitance reach out. His roughened finger tips brush against her own in this exchange before he's curling them upon the green stem.

Overwhelmed—almost isolated.

This time is so dislocated in such an exchange.

This isn't her.

Yet, it is in all the right ways.

The squeeze upon his heart and the shudder that dares to come forth is all he needs to remind him she's standing here before him. Azure tremble as they ascend to look at this woman so entirely her and it's that look upon her face completely warm with those spring eyes almost glowing, and a smile he knows all to well that has him enraptured.

It feels like his heart will break in two.

His dreams are falling apart—just like she did.

The bitterness sets in and takes a hold of him so maliciously. It's not this woman's fault, and yet there's an ache brought by the yellow daylily within his grasp. He exchanges the item she's asked for and that smile he's seen doing this exact same thing only gets wider—its enough to make him gaze upon the ground.

"Stay safe, Cloud."

It's a moment—no more than a second—before his azure flicker to look at her as her voice drops his name and just like the storm that pours in she's blown away as if never there before.

The internal violence he prays he can make it through out of this one world and into the next deep in the pillars of a coliseum and before this proclaimed God of the underworld. He's taken him deep and down within the depths of Elysium before the seas that carry the souls of the dead. It's that silhouette and his heart truly breaks apart.

Alone in his head, and drowning in silence he agrees to the contract—to take down the hero of this world just for her—all in search of her. Out on the edge he's entering overtaken, and held by the darkest of intentions. She's here somewhere deep within the worlds and he will find her.

There's this boy though—this child who stands in his way and causing this god devoured among the flames to panic.

"The great God of the Underworld is afraid of a kid?" he's mocking him, but it matters not because his contract states nothing upon this child so seemingly untouched by the anguish that's holds him within his grasp.

There's that whisper that tells him to help, and to stop the dog this God's unleashed. The collapse he has is greater than the waves of darkness he's accepted when he signed his name. If he's living his life like this then why is the weight so heavy upon him. He would accept it all if she just stood before him.

Another moment for those dreams of his to fall apart—just as she had when she fell to the floor of the forgotten city.
This is his punishment for exploiting the darkness.

Until he learns it's all a lie.

Then he knows she is here—that she hasn't died in this world.

She's walking and there's no doubt she's got that smile upon her face—traverse town is what this boy full of auburn spikes and azure eye claims. This child who he had misjudge and taken so lightly. He's searching too. He's searching for his light in the darkness and yet so untouched by the grip he had allowed over take his heart.

Failure is calling.

He's about to break under the pressure and the loss of his own.

"I fell into darkness, and I couldn't find the light." he's honest and sincere with this child who too has known some form of anguish.

This boy wouldn't be searching if he hadn't felt the same things he too had felt. This understand and this motivation—he has to find her but now there's fear because of what he's done. He had done it for her, but there's no stopping the regret that pulls within his chest.

How can he face her when he would have done this to find her?

He's at the end of the line—waiting for something divine to answer him.

He knows the look she'll have when she sees him, and he knows the way those brows of her will pinch up as the truth falls from him. The disappointment, and the dip of her mouth as her teeth sink into it. This constant search. The constant running. The internal struggle as he cries out to find her.

Don't lose sight of it.

This battle of light and dark it echoes and it only pushes him further until he's taken without consent and tossed among the fight of Warriors meant to serve. It's that spar with this Warrior called Firion that makes him wonder if he has a dream at all.

She had been his dream.

Yet, she's blown away every time he's almost had her within his grasp.

This hesitation is growing, and even as it teases upon his skin he keeps walking. This anxiety is holding him face down upon the dirt and its coaxing him once more as the man who's taken his dream stands before him. He's broken and he's without the strength of will that all these heroes hold before him. He's let her down even though he's tried all of his best, and all of his power is exhausted upon these legs meant to carry him toward her. He told her he would be her bodyguard—he would protect her, and yet here he stands among these warriors and heroes without the ability to make that promise a reality.

He's sinned—would he ever be forgiven?

Nothing but a puppet.

They told him to find his answer. These warriors he fights beside know he can find it and yet they don't know what sins he's made. They don't know what he's done and how far he's traveled. He promised them he would find it, and he would tell him. It was easy to make so many of these promises. So easy for him to promise these things that he now feels dragging him forever further than when she had been his dream.

"How pitiful. To live life hanging on to something this fragile."

This man—this monster of a human—he's now using these people to push him even further in this anxiety and desperation. He's using everything he can to push him beyond this edge and further still. This man. He is what stands in the way of his dreams.

"You're nothing but a puppet that gets swept away, unable to make any decisions on its own." the tease lingers upon ever syllable, and every word.

"You're wrong. I just—" his frustration and his desperation is peeking past this edge with each word this man speaks.

"So. . .I'll continue to provide you a reason—every time you need one."

He snaps and he cannot control himself taunted so low by the one who took her so mercilessly—as she tried to save them all. She had tried to save everyone, and tried to save him. She had sought to return to his side and he doesn't honor her well with these sins. Yet this man—this man used her. He used the woman who had been the one to seek him out behind all the misunderstands, and lies. She sought out the him beneath the exterior he had put forth, and she had sought out his hand at all times. Every step he had taken. Every world he had gone through in search of her. Every time he found her, and every time he didn't she was still within the Daylilies, and Easter lilies with those spring touched eyes and smile holding out that hand forever and more.

"Shut up!"

He remembers all to well the burning sensation that coated his throat, and the tears that glassed over his eyes as he took in her form within his grasp bleeding out. He remembers the smell of iron as it flooded his nose and he remembers the plummet of his heart. He remembers his voice ringing upon the walls of the forgotten city, and how the trees glowed white casting their shine upon all who had entered. The feel of her as she slipped away even has he touched her and even as gripped his hand until it went slack with the loss of life—he remembers it all.

He had never lost her as his dream—he had sinned and he had wanted to be forgiven.

He had grown scared of her casting her eyes upon him, and he had grown frightened of the disappointment that would cast upon her face.

What about us. . . what are we supposed to do!?

Every time she'd point, and every time she'd take a step. Every time she'd look to him, and every time she almost felt alone. Every time he had tried not to care she would come forward still—

This battle is brutish in nature filled with all those times, and all of the memories that had pushed him forward and snapping the control he thought he had come to gain with the stain of her blood upon his hands. She had blow away from his fingers and only gave the briefest of touches before disappearing and then reappearing just steps before him. The collapse of this weight crashes with each cry out he gives and each swing of his sword that becomes heavier with every thought of her smiling so warmly at him—as she prayed for them all.

He had explioted the darkness and he had gone this far—he couldn't stop now.

Not when he wanted to take her hand.

Not when he wanted to be forgiven.

His blood upon the ground means nothing. The scrapes across his skin are more of a blessing. The heartbreak he feels in all those things she did and the things she had been are more than enough to remind him she waits in the promised land. He had been alone in his head and drowning in his silence. The storm winds had been blow but he would not be blow away. He would live out his life searching, and even as failure calls out he'll keep searching—just like her.

There in the corner of his eye he sees that orb brought about by the powers of the lifestream that hold her upon his own world, and the tremble it produces is all that it takes before he has it within his hand. The moonlight reflecting upon it echoes reminding him how that failure had called out breaking him apart. It had plunged him deep within the earth and deeper from her hand he knows is awaiting his grasp—that he dares to grasp now.

This was his answer, and this was his dream. He doesn't need to stand here and now with these warriors. He needs to go to her. He needs to take that hand that he had let fear distance her from him.

Fingers twist upon the white materia she had used to save the world before it fell down within the waters that became her tomb. These fields of Daylilies and Easter lilies are there to guide him forward once more. That press upon his arm is calling now and now his dream is no longer fallen.

He's opened all the doors, and he's looked within all the worlds. He's traveled through the dimensions and sought out this path long before now. She's there and she's among the flowers with that smile decorating her face.

It's a nod of her head and the raise of that arm. It's those eyes daring to glow and the way her cheeks raise as she lets the words fall from her mouth—this is entirely and truly her, "So, why did you come?"

"I think. . .I want to be forgiven." his voice is earnest, and even with it's hesitance he knows this to be true.

"By who?" she's humming out never letting her hand waver from before her extended and out for him to finally take a hold of it, "I never blamed you. Not once."

She had never blamed him.
He had never needed her forgiveness.

"You came for me. That's all that matters." the fall of those lids closing off her eyes from him is all he needs to take the steps forward—he had been this close to her in so many of the worlds.

He had been afraid—

He won't let this fear keep him from her any longer.

Those worlds had been cruel in making her always just brief finger touches away. He had run until his legs were weak, and he had gone until he exhausted his strength of will. That fear had engulfed him, and that darkness is always had been accepted in his travel to her.

It had not all been a waste was he wraps his fingers upon her own and drags her closer taking hold and refusing to let go. He had wanted something divine to answer him, and he had felt she had been blown away in the wind—but she's here and she's pressed against him so tenderly.

The worlds had felt eclipsed but the sun reins supreme here. Those flowers she loves cover this earth, and those brief touches don't exist. There's nothing denying him of her, and there's no part of her denying him. He's sinned. He's done so many things—but she's still so accepting of him as those fingers run through his hair.

There's a recognition in those eyes that ascend upon him. There's time. It's no longer dislocated. It's here and she'll hear all he has to say. She'll accept the parts of him that made so many wrong choices. She'll light that darkness that he had lost in his way to her. She'll smile from the bottom of her heart, and she'll mend his heart back together—it'll no longer linger as two.