Golden Peacock Overflow

[sonicstriker]

Original TL
Overflow 2.0
Overflow 3.0

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[thisclockworkheart]

[ Surprised, Pinocchio lifts his chin, his dark eyebrows lift, and his mouth parts slightly. Maybe he's seeing something that isn't there — that someone who seems so gentle can call her friends dangerous, but without fear, like she accepts these friends not for what they can do for her but despite the things he expects others to view as flaws.

Even if there are other things she has said that bring with them new knowledge and new questions (so this thing on his wrist is a watch, though it's unlike any he's ever seen), he realizes he's holding the unique circumstances of Krat against someone who has never heard of it. It isn't fair to her, he thinks.

They've met under extraordinary circumstances. Pinocchio can't guess why anyone or anything would kidnap people from entirely disparate places, take from them everything they have (or in the case of his arm, almost everything), only to give them a warm bed, a roof over their heads, and a basket of strange gifts. It's clear to him that Tifa is adding these up to the suspicion that it's nothing good, and he is grateful for her caution.

The wariness that had sharpened his scrutiny softens. He lifts his hand and, after a moment, turns it over to offer his palm to her. A soul kind enough to think of her friends even in a frightening situation is someone he believes can put his trust in. ]

I suppose not. I don't want to hurt anyone. [ Not even when the circumstances demand violence. Only once was a single-mindedly vengeful act — one that did nothing to balm his heart — mark an instance when he wanted nothing more than to kill. ]

If it will help, please take my hand.

[sonicstriker]

[ She squeezes her arms tighter, looking at her feet, mouth pressed together.

If it would help, she could have his hand.

How is this happening? How is she in this situation again, an ignorant little girl while everyone else knows what to do? How is she showing how vulnerable and needy she is when she's trying to be the one helping.

But. She doesn't want to be alone. At all. Not again. Not after having finally had people to depend on. Not after losing Biggs and Jessie and the bar and...

She makes an effort to relax her shoulders, look up and smile -- hollow as it feels -- but she does reach out to take his hand. She wishes she'd taken Cloud's or Aerith's the million times she'd wanted to. Now she might not ever be able to.

She can't think like that. But she's going to let herself have a little weakness right now. She squeezes P's hand, his fingers warm and real. She really wants a hug, but, that's weird to ask. ]

We don't have to hurt anyone. [ She's assuring herself as much as him. ] If we have to stun them, I can do it, okay?

cw: mention of death

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Even if the power in him reverses his condition to the last moment he was whole when he succumbs to too much damage, he remembers the hundreds of times he's been shattered and broken. Although he sees no cracks, no blood, and nothing appears to be broken, the way Tifa holds herself reminds him of one such moment.

How cold the rain, the cobblestone beneath him. His body — cracked and split in too many places — could no longer support its weight, let alone a weapon. He'd never questioned how long a puppet could leak oil before its systems started to seize. He learned that day it takes a very long time. There was little use in crying out because no one could hear him who'd want to help. No good could come of complaining since Gemini would only worry more than he was already. The cricket guide chirped from his lamp words of encouragement and sympathy. Although it was kind, what the puppet wanted more than anything was to feel his father's hands on his shoulders. It didn't matter that Geppetto only did it when he wanted something.

Pinocchio doesn't want anything of Tifa. She has folded in on herself and it seems like a posture as lonely as he'd felt at that time. Moved to comfort her, his metal hand leaves the door and settles over the back of her hand, the other fingers closing carefully around hers as if cradling something precious.

She is gentle. Thinks of others first even when the situation seems perilous. Following a silent nod, he releases her hand to close his over the slopes of her shoulders. ]

Yes. [ He looks terribly serious as he says: ] We needn't search or fight as though we are alone. Are you ready?

[sonicstriker]

[ She would argue she hasn't been through anything close to that, but Pinocchio would be right; has she not had herself pushed to breaking, her heart shattered a thousand times, and every time, it bring up the memory of who she was, who she should have been?

She worries now, as she has before, if this is the time that finally breaks her. What if she can't pick herself up this time? What if she doesn't want to again? She's so tired, and everything she builds gets taken away.

So that hand is like an anchor. It's real. It's warm. It's kind. If that keeps her moving right now, then she'll keep it close.

It still makes her self-conscious when he cradles her hand in both of his. It doesn't matter that it's metal; the touch is gentle and reverent.

And then he's put them on her shoulders. She blinks, startled, and for a moment is tempted to just crumple into him, let the tears come -- for Sector 7, for Shinra's bullshit, for whatever they'd done to Cloud and Aerith and Red -- and hug him.

But he's talking about fighting again. She nods. She needs to be strong for both of them. ]

Yeah. Come on.

[ She opens the door, holding it for him. Nothing but a long hall. Thick carpet, sconces on the walls. A hotel, she thinks. They pass someone else in a shirt like theirs, but she doesn't stop to ask questions, not yet. A second pair is dressed in golden tracksuits, their eyes undeniably checking out either her or P's or both their legs and assets. ]

Well, they aren't keeping us on a tight leash. No security so far.

[thisclockworkheart]

[ It's brighter here than he's used to. Bright like it was in the light of the Stargazer in the lobby of Hotel Krat, like the opulent Opera House, all white marble and gold gilding. The floor feels soft under his feet, the carpeting smothering the sounds of their footsteps.

Pinocchio is curious about everything and everyone they pass, but in an abundance of caution, keeps it to glances, only holding the gazes of those who take the time to appraise them in an unconscious challenge. No one carries a weapon. Nobody tries to start a fight. His hand sits dry against hers despite the palpable tension.

Someone else — a staff member, emerges in the hallway and sprints down it past them, where he encounters another wearing a similar outfit. They hurriedly exchange words and begin making their way back up the hallway.

Warily, the puppet leans into Tifa to whisper, watching the pair proceed. ]

What say we follow them?

[ They seem like they've got somewhere to be and while he doesn't recognize what they're wearing as an indication that they 'belong here', their sense of urgency has piqued his interest. ]

alright post holiday tagging resumes

[sonicstriker]

[ She notices the staff too. Agitated. But surprised. Something's going on they don't know about either, and she's not sure if that makes her feel better or more anxious.

Pinocchio looks to her for...what? Leadership? Permission? Who is she, a voice whispers, to make decisions for others. It's not like her life has gone anywhere good.

Stop it. She can't think like that.

She nods, as much to clear her head as to answer. ]

I think that's a good idea.

[ She keeps her hand firmly in his, determined to walk down the hallway and not give into the panic screaming at her to run, to cry, to --

No. Calm. Breathe.

They round a bend and see two more employees, one with a linen bin. Okay. Definitely a hotel. That's...something. ]

happy new year!

[thisclockworkheart]

[ Concurrence. They are equals here, she should be as much a part of the decision on their next course of action as he is. Satisfied with her nod, he continues with her down the hallway, his stride as regular as a metronome.

The hallway curves around a bend. He finds it disorienting, perhaps because he's only accustomed to spiral staircases doing something like this, and the effect with floor-to-ceiling walls and matching carpets is alien and confusing.

He had seen a similar bin when Polendina was doing something with the hotel rooms, back at Krat. Turndown service, he had said. It's worth his curiosity anyway, but it's Tifa who commands it.

Glancing aside at Tifa, the puppet wonders if he's only projecting his tension onto her, or if she's trying to be brave, too.

A high-strung voice impatiently breaks his concentration: You two mind moving it along?

The staffer sighs when Pinocchio's blank expression is his only forthcoming answer. He waves them down the hall.

Keep going that way and get cleaned up. We're on a tight schedule!

The puppet doesn't speak again until he's sure they're out of earshot, and even then, at a whisper: ]

Cleaned up..?

Re: happy new year!

[sonicstriker]

[ She should have said something, should have asked, but her throat had closed up, her mind wanting to reject that this was happening, and before she'd gotten ahold of herself, they'd been shooed down the hall.

Answering his question is easier than thinking about herself. And maybe if they can come up with a plan, she can follow that. ]

I think we're in a hotel.

[ A really big, fancy hotel, dealing with a sudden influx of guests. ]

We should ask the next ones we see.

[ It isn't long, and this time she squares her shoulders. Before she gets three words out, though, they shoo her.

Go meet in the lobby with the others. The hotel is working on it -- you should have food and clothing vouchers on your watch. ]

Something tells me they don't completely know what's going on either.

[ And that leaves a very chilled feeling in her stomach. ]