Yes, that will be enough time for me. There is no rush.
[Which isn't quite true. She's anxious over how Tifa will see her after everything is said and done, so the longer Tifa takes the more time Jill has to imagine the worst. It's one thing to be willing to come out and admit she's a Dominant. It's another to confess to all her crimes that came along with that role.]
I'm going to grab some treats from Bluetooth on the way, too. I hope she likes them.
[She has to pick up some food for the cat anyway, so might as well do it while she's here. She is none the wiser to Jill's feelings, but she still won't keep her waiting for very long, appearing in the doorway of the Dragon's Milk and searching for her, if she's already there. She has several large bags in her arms, though, all skillfully balanced but still a hassle to peer over.]
Thank you. I am sure Bluetooth also sends her thanks.
[By the time Tifa does make her way here, Jill has ordered herself a cup of tea and positioned herself at a table in an out of the way table, both because she wants the privacy it will give them and because it gives her the opportunity to practice what she's going to say and how she will say it so it doesn't scare someone as seemingly gentle as Tifa off.
But the rumination doesn't last for long as her attention is pulled towards the entrance when the door opens and she sees Tifa loaded down with bags. She looks like she has it all handled fine enough, but Jill has too much decency to just sit and watch. Up on her feet, tea forgottened for the moment, Jill moves to grab one of the bags before Tifa can even ask for assistance.]
She hears Jill's voice from the other side, and some amount of relief washes over her as she lets her take one of the bags out of her arms. It isn't heavy, at least, but it is fairly big and chunky with more cat toys than what they bought together on their last trip through Eltrut.]
I... might've gotten a little carried away.
[A sheepish addition as she'll follow Jill to the table now with more ease—she can see again! And she'll set the bags down haphazardly on the floor next to the empty spot before slumping right into it.
Immediately, one of the cafe workers wanders over and asks Tifa for her order, and she just asks for a simple green tea with a thanks before she's turning back to Jill, her exhaustion fading into worry.]
[At Tifa's confession, Jill just has to give into her curiosity and peek into the bag as they make their way over to the table. That is a lot of cat toys. Can Gaslight make her way through all of them before she gets bored of each one? If so, that'll be one spoiled cat.
Jill places the bag next to the rest of them and slips back into her chair, empty hands coming to wrap around the still warm tea. The more her hands have to do, the less Tifa will bear witness to how they sometimes shake with anxiety.]
I wasn't. Just long enough to get a cup of tea myself.
[She can't help it... Tifa is all in on this cat, apparently.
But she won't linger on it for long, happy to finally be sitting down. She's been on the go since she left Elah, always occupied with something, so when she has a moment to breathe, it doesn't take an observant soul like her to pick up on the anxiety that buzzes around Jill, and her smile fades slightly.]
How've you been doing?
[Not a push or a prod, but... she knows it couldn't have been easy waiting for this talk.]
[Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie either. Physically, she's doing fine. The pain in her arms and hand have seemingly lessened the more she used her magick here and the curse hasn't shown hide or hair of itself.
Mentally, though? Jill is disturbed, to say the least. Having been transported elsewhere clear out of the blue with someone trying to summon Shiva left her questioning just how the magick in this place works. Luckily, the summoner was only a young girl, naive as Rem seems to be, and not someone else with nefarious purposes. But that doesn't guarantee someone like that isn't out there. Maybe they are and it's just a matter of time before they have want of Shiva and Jill finds herself trapped in a battle she doesn't want to fight, being forced to act all over again.
And the idea of that, of losing her freedom all over again, sends terror tearing straight through the center of her.]
I thank you for coming. I was asking quite a lot for you to come all this way.
[She had to do shopping anyway, but even if she didn't, Tifa would have made the trip across the entire ocean if someone needed her. And clearly, there's been something on Jill's mind since their conversation, or thanks to it, that she is anxious to get out, if her body language has anything to say about it.
Tifa recognizes it all too well—that smile that tries to say that everything is fine when it isn't.]
[Jill nods and tries to smile a bit more, but the heaviness not only weighs her shoulders down, but seemingly her entire being. It takes her a few false starts of her opening and closing her mouth, stammering out a few half syllables, wondering if she should start all the way from the true beginning, her birth, or only speak on the parts Tifa would think were important.
After a long moment of silence as she stares into her cup, watching her face reflected back in the tea, Jill just decides to let the words flow and fall where they may.]
I was but a girl of only twelve summers when the Iron Kingdom invaded the Rosarian Duchy, where I was a ward. They killed the men, but captured all the women and girls. And the Bearers.
[She pauses in order to answer a question she thinks Tifa may have.]
Bearers are people who can use magick without the use of a crystal. They are not treated kindly, more so used as one would use a chocobo as a beast of burden. Used until the curse claims them, only to be replaced with another Bearer, and another, and another.
[Tifa is patient, and she stares down at her hands on the table while she waits for Jill to find her words and her voice. It can't be easy—Tifa certainly would know. She's yet to be brave enough, and as brave as Jill, to be able to share any details of her own past with anyone, here or... otherwise.
There's a pause as the server brings Tifa her tea, but she doesn't even think to drink it. She only holds it between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers which have gone cold from her explanation. She thinks she gets it, but it only raises a lot of other questions...]
So, like...
[Mm. She shakes her head, not wanting to say it aloud for fear of offending her, and instead focusing on another.]
[What could possibly offend Jill when all the feelings of her past that she thought were scabbed over seem ripped open fresh and new? She has no one but herself to blame for that, but for Tifa to understand why all of them were so guarded, so defensive about summonings, she needed to know as much as Jill could tell her.
Nothing Tifa could say could be more abhorrent than the pain of the years gone by]
The Grand Duchy of Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom were never the best of friends to begin with, less so where Drake's Breath, one of the Mothercrystals, was concerned. The Mothercrystals, for all intents and purposes, are held dear by society in different ways. Some people use shards of them to carry out tasks like lighting fires, washing clothes, preserving foods... things like that if you could afford a Bearer to do it instead, you did. Others worship them. The Iron Kingdom was the latter. Rosaria? They had control over Drake's Breath. You can understand how that could lead to long standing conflict.
[Jill brings the cup to her mouth and breathes in the warmth. It's soothing for the moment, but will it hold on for when she gets deep into the ditches of her story?]
But the truth of it is... they saw a weak spot. While many of the Rosarian troops were off elsewhere, the Iron Kingdom realized our back door was left open and took the opportunity to end things right there and then.
[That's putting it mildly, but the Night of Flames is a story that Jill feels belongs to Clive and Joshua. Let the people who were actually at Phoenix Gate tell it.]
[She thinks she gets it. Jill is concise in her explanations, but she gives enough to paint Tifa a decent picture—enough that she can understand. Wrap her head around all of it? Not quite, but she likens it to Shinra and the Promised Land. Their search for endless power and magic. It isn't the same, but similar enough that making that comparison allows her to understand it a little better.
Kingdoms fighting over the dominion of these crystals. People fighting for their homes against Shinra's pursuit of power.
Tifa looks down at her tea, nursing it between her hands, as she breathes out a quiet, heavy sigh.]
[She nods, not knowing Tifa is saying that to either drive the tale forward or to confirm what Jill told her. Doesn't matter either way. Jill is moving along anyway.]
While I was never safe there, I may have been foolish enough to think that I was safer than the other girls for moment. But truly, it was all just a matter of waiting my turn once the Ironblood were done with them.
[Jill huffs a laugh that is completely devoid of any mirth. It's a dark, empty and hollow sound, something bitter with no sweet to the edges. She might as well have spit right into her teacup.]
It was the year of my thirteenth summer when the High Priest decided that it was time I became his... "nightly attendant".
[She lets the last two words hang there for Tifa to realize the weight of what Jill still can't bring herself to be explicit about. But not for long. This isn't a story of what could have happened, but of what did.]
I expected it, deep down, expected it would be that way until he had this fill and cast aside to meet my end. What I didn't expect was my awakening to save me from depravity that night. My awakening as Shiva's Dominant.
[Now she looks back up at Tifa, wondering what kind of reaction she'll get to that admission, if there is one at all.]
["Nightly attendant." Tifa might have shattered her teacup then if she squeezed it any tighter, her hands instinctively going into fight mode when she feels her stomach absolutely drop, but she doesn't say anything on the matter. She doesn't need to... especially not when Jill goes on to explain.
But there is some familiarity that flickers in her eyes when she mentions Shiva, her gaze snapping up from her hands.
She knows of her, knows that she is a summon in their world.
Her hand goes to her glove, fingers wrapping over the materia that sits there, her finger poking at the bright red one that sits in the center. While her own would summon Ifrit, or Clive, she doesn't even know which one of them might have Shiva's, if any. It would be a relief if none of them did, to be honest. She doesn't want another Yuffie situation happening again.]
And... did that change things for you? After that? I'm guessing not for the better, but...
[That's the reaction Jill was seeking. That spark of familiarity, the way she immediately looks up at Jill. So Shiva does exist in their world. And finding out via being unexpectedly summoned here, Jill discovered that there's another star out there that holds Shiva too. Three separate but similar worlds.
How many actually exist? Jill does not want to imagine the number.]
No. It got worse. [Jill wets her suddenly dry lips on a sip of tea before setting the cup back down on the table.] While the Iron Kingdom worships the Mothercrystals, they do not feel the same about Dominants. We are abominations, living sins... monsters.
[The shudder that runs across her shoulders and down her spine is visible enough to have someone think she's caught a chill, but it's all because of how that one word still stabs her deeply.]
Suddenly, I was filth to them. Too disgraceful. That did not prevent them from using me to their benefit, though.
[Her stomach churns and that one sip feels like it threatens to make a reappearance. Jill manages through, speaking a little too quickly in order to get the worst parts of her past out before losing what little nerve she has left, what tiny amount of courage has Jill allowing Tifa to see the worst of her.]
They forced a child to become an murderer. A child, who refused to do so no matter how many times the lash came, only to concede once told that if she did what they wished, they wouldn't continue to hurt the others. A child who believed that lie, only to witness the misdeeds done against them over and over again anyway. A child who then became a woman, still telling herself she was doing those things because the Ironblood were forcing her hand. That all those deaths on the battlefield, those nameless souls she reaped, weren't her fault even though their blood was on her hands. A woman who, after thirteen years of subjugation, decided that her death was the only form of relief from the pain.
[A silence looms over Tifa, a painful dread of understanding. Her brow pinches, her face twists with hurt as she tries to hold something back, her own hands withdrawing from the table so that she can ball them into fists on her lap as guilt quickly overcomes her while she listens, not wanting to interrupt Jill before she's finished.
Tifa never did find it hard to empathize with others. To feel the hurt that Jill feels in her own heart is the part that comes so naturally to her that she sometimes hates it... but it allows her to understand, too. However, whether it makes it worse that she actually knows those feelings and is familiar with them or not. That there are others who suffer through the same sort of thoughts. And while they aren't quite the same, they are still there, and the fact that anyone else has had to go through it—no, that someone as kind as Jill had to, only makes her hate the world just a little bit more.
Makes her hate the people responsible for making it so messed up in the first place.
She has nothing to say... not yet, anyway, because what does one say to that? She remembers Barret's words as they stood in the ruins of Sector Seven, her whole body threatening to break under her pent-up rage, but she doesn't know if they will work here.
So, instead, she unclenches a fist and reaches across the table. Her hand finds Jill's and she steals it away from her cup to grip it, tight, wrapping it up in her own warmth. And as she looks across at her, understanding flickers bright in Tifa's red eyes, her empathy shining through what look like tears starting to form.]
[The silence that rests between them seems so heavy, so untouchable. Jill isn't sure what Tifa is thinking, whether or not she's disgusted by what the Ironblood did, or worse, what Jill herself did. Words would help here, even cruel ones, so she isn't left wondering if Tifa decided that the label of monster fit well on her.
But she can't push the other woman into responding, so Jill can only sit there in her discomfort and anxiety, grey eyes searching Tifa's face for a clue into her thoughts. The pinched brow, the way her features twist, says Tifa battles an internal war with herself but over what, she cannot guess.
If, in the end, Tifa finds that knowing her past is too atrocious to move on from, then she will accept it. She'd have to. Tifa wouldn't be the first person to hate her for what she did; after all, the people who died on the battlefield had families too.
But that version of the end isn't what happens. To Jill's surprise, Tifa is suddenly reaching out towards her, pulling her hand over to hold theirs together, a firm supportive squeeze. Words now mean little in the face of actions, and as Jill looks over at Tifa and witnesses the watering of her eyes, the telltale sting in her own eyes begin to form.]
[Words are harder for Tifa than she makes it look. For all the ways she looks like she has herself pulled together, it's hard for her to convey such heavy feelings. And especially to convey them without letting her anger get the better of her. She knows nothing about Jill's world, and very little about Jill's life itself, and so is it really her place to say anything at all?
Regardless, she gives her fingers a squeeze, her heart twisting in her chest hearing that.]
Don't think I could ever.
[She tilts her head, though.]
Why would you think so?
[There's no judgment there, rather a worry that it would be her automatic assumption...]
Every person who I killed had someone that loved and care for them. I took that away from them.
[Whether it was their blood families, found family, or mere friends, Jill was haunted by the ghosts of angry loved ones in her nightmares. Maybe it would have been easier to accept if the corpses of the dead soldiers came after her instead, but knowing that there were still living people left behind in just as much pain as she was made things worse.
She looks down at their hands intertwined together, releasing a shaky breath as she tries not to let loose the tears that threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.]
My hands are not clean. I did what I could to atone for my crimes, my wrongs that I could not fully right, but those deaths will forever stain them.
[She wishes that she could just reach across the table and pull Jill into a hug, but that might bring more unwanted attention to this, so she can only squeeze a little tighter as she listens.
Tifa can't exactly say that... no, they're not. She can't say that Jill's hands are clean, because not only does she think that would diminish those feelings, that is something that she knows all too well that some people just have to live with. As difficult as it is to believe and even admit.]
I get it...
[It's said quietly, Tifa's gaze dropping to her tea, but her hold never faltering.]
We do what we can to try and make things right... to fight for the people still alive, but... it's hard to shake that off. Impossible, even, I think...
[Jill could use a hug, but she daren't ask. She's never requested one in her life and she doesn't intend on starting now. Besides, perhaps Tifa isn't the physical affection sort, though something quiet in the back of Jill's mind reminds her of who reached for the other's seemingly filthy hand first.]
Perhaps. I know that the High Priest can no longer hurt anyone else anymore. I made sure of that.
[And so did her rapier.]
It was all I could do. I've come to accept that other things are out of my control. [Jill falls silent for a moment, before speaking in voice cracked with emotion around the edges.] Most of all, I've learned to forgive myself.
But she thinks she can piece together what Jill means, and she can't say that she blames her for it. Which makes her feel just a little worse about the whole thing—she isn't one to wish death upon anyone, even her worst enemies, but what that man had done was truly abhorrent that "thank god" was the first thing she thought upon hearing that.]
I'm glad you could at least do that much...
[Tifa wishes that she could get that far. It's admirable, really...]
[One doesn't have to wish death upon the cruelest of the cruel to accept that sometimes that is the only method to end the madness. Jill wouldn't judge Tifa for thanking the universe that the Imreann is gone any more than Tifa hasn't seemingly judged Jill for making certain of that.
Admirable, sure, but Jill has to disagree with the other woman on what the most difficult of living this sort of life is.]
No, the hardest part is letting go of the fear. [She shakes her head softly as she glances down to her cup.] I told you my story for a point. Not to horrify you or for pity, but for you to understand what I say next.
[Jill pauses, breathing deep to exhale shakily. She somehow has come to trust Tifa already, for some strange reason, but admitting the scars left behind still brings on the nerves.]
I have confessed this to but one person, but I fear being forced to act upon someone else's whims again. And while Clive's story is different yet similar to my own, he also deserves to live a life without that fear. That is why I ask, no, plead to you not to call upon Ifrit in the way you can.
Tifa stares across at her, trying not to look as surprised as she is, but probably failing. It lasts only a moment, however, before her expression softens, and she squeezes Jill's hand gently.]
You have nothing to worry about on that.
[While there is plenty to worry about for sure, Tifa understands, she tries to offer her as reassuring a smile as ever.]
I have no plans on using my summon materia. And I'm going to do whatever I can to keep it safe. I promise.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Which isn't quite true. She's anxious over how Tifa will see her after everything is said and done, so the longer Tifa takes the more time Jill has to imagine the worst. It's one thing to be willing to come out and admit she's a Dominant. It's another to confess to all her crimes that came along with that role.]
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[She has to pick up some food for the cat anyway, so might as well do it while she's here. She is none the wiser to Jill's feelings, but she still won't keep her waiting for very long, appearing in the doorway of the Dragon's Milk and searching for her, if she's already there. She has several large bags in her arms, though, all skillfully balanced but still a hassle to peer over.]
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[By the time Tifa does make her way here, Jill has ordered herself a cup of tea and positioned herself at a table in an out of the way table, both because she wants the privacy it will give them and because it gives her the opportunity to practice what she's going to say and how she will say it so it doesn't scare someone as seemingly gentle as Tifa off.
But the rumination doesn't last for long as her attention is pulled towards the entrance when the door opens and she sees Tifa loaded down with bags. She looks like she has it all handled fine enough, but Jill has too much decency to just sit and watch. Up on her feet, tea forgottened for the moment, Jill moves to grab one of the bags before Tifa can even ask for assistance.]
Allow me to help you.
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She hears Jill's voice from the other side, and some amount of relief washes over her as she lets her take one of the bags out of her arms. It isn't heavy, at least, but it is fairly big and chunky with more cat toys than what they bought together on their last trip through Eltrut.]
I... might've gotten a little carried away.
[A sheepish addition as she'll follow Jill to the table now with more ease—she can see again! And she'll set the bags down haphazardly on the floor next to the empty spot before slumping right into it.
Immediately, one of the cafe workers wanders over and asks Tifa for her order, and she just asks for a simple green tea with a thanks before she's turning back to Jill, her exhaustion fading into worry.]
I hope you weren't waiting long.
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Jill places the bag next to the rest of them and slips back into her chair, empty hands coming to wrap around the still warm tea. The more her hands have to do, the less Tifa will bear witness to how they sometimes shake with anxiety.]
I wasn't. Just long enough to get a cup of tea myself.
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But she won't linger on it for long, happy to finally be sitting down. She's been on the go since she left Elah, always occupied with something, so when she has a moment to breathe, it doesn't take an observant soul like her to pick up on the anxiety that buzzes around Jill, and her smile fades slightly.]
How've you been doing?
[Not a push or a prod, but... she knows it couldn't have been easy waiting for this talk.]
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[Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie either. Physically, she's doing fine. The pain in her arms and hand have seemingly lessened the more she used her magick here and the curse hasn't shown hide or hair of itself.
Mentally, though? Jill is disturbed, to say the least. Having been transported elsewhere clear out of the blue with someone trying to summon Shiva left her questioning just how the magick in this place works. Luckily, the summoner was only a young girl, naive as Rem seems to be, and not someone else with nefarious purposes. But that doesn't guarantee someone like that isn't out there. Maybe they are and it's just a matter of time before they have want of Shiva and Jill finds herself trapped in a battle she doesn't want to fight, being forced to act all over again.
And the idea of that, of losing her freedom all over again, sends terror tearing straight through the center of her.]
I thank you for coming. I was asking quite a lot for you to come all this way.
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[She had to do shopping anyway, but even if she didn't, Tifa would have made the trip across the entire ocean if someone needed her. And clearly, there's been something on Jill's mind since their conversation, or thanks to it, that she is anxious to get out, if her body language has anything to say about it.
Tifa recognizes it all too well—that smile that tries to say that everything is fine when it isn't.]
Just tell me whatever you're comfortable with.
cw: references to slavery/captivity/abuse
After a long moment of silence as she stares into her cup, watching her face reflected back in the tea, Jill just decides to let the words flow and fall where they may.]
I was but a girl of only twelve summers when the Iron Kingdom invaded the Rosarian Duchy, where I was a ward. They killed the men, but captured all the women and girls. And the Bearers.
[She pauses in order to answer a question she thinks Tifa may have.]
Bearers are people who can use magick without the use of a crystal. They are not treated kindly, more so used as one would use a chocobo as a beast of burden. Used until the curse claims them, only to be replaced with another Bearer, and another, and another.
[Disposable. The poor people were disposable.]
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There's a pause as the server brings Tifa her tea, but she doesn't even think to drink it. She only holds it between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers which have gone cold from her explanation. She thinks she gets it, but it only raises a lot of other questions...]
So, like...
[Mm. She shakes her head, not wanting to say it aloud for fear of offending her, and instead focusing on another.]
Why did this Iron Kingdom invade anyway?
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Nothing Tifa could say could be more abhorrent than the pain of the years gone by]
The Grand Duchy of Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom were never the best of friends to begin with, less so where Drake's Breath, one of the Mothercrystals, was concerned. The Mothercrystals, for all intents and purposes, are held dear by society in different ways. Some people use shards of them to carry out tasks like lighting fires, washing clothes, preserving foods... things like that if you could afford a Bearer to do it instead, you did. Others worship them. The Iron Kingdom was the latter. Rosaria? They had control over Drake's Breath. You can understand how that could lead to long standing conflict.
[Jill brings the cup to her mouth and breathes in the warmth. It's soothing for the moment, but will it hold on for when she gets deep into the ditches of her story?]
But the truth of it is... they saw a weak spot. While many of the Rosarian troops were off elsewhere, the Iron Kingdom realized our back door was left open and took the opportunity to end things right there and then.
[That's putting it mildly, but the Night of Flames is a story that Jill feels belongs to Clive and Joshua. Let the people who were actually at Phoenix Gate tell it.]
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Kingdoms fighting over the dominion of these crystals. People fighting for their homes against Shinra's pursuit of power.
Tifa looks down at her tea, nursing it between her hands, as she breathes out a quiet, heavy sigh.]
... So they took you.
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While I was never safe there, I may have been foolish enough to think that I was safer than the other girls for moment. But truly, it was all just a matter of waiting my turn once the Ironblood were done with them.
[Jill huffs a laugh that is completely devoid of any mirth. It's a dark, empty and hollow sound, something bitter with no sweet to the edges. She might as well have spit right into her teacup.]
It was the year of my thirteenth summer when the High Priest decided that it was time I became his... "nightly attendant".
[She lets the last two words hang there for Tifa to realize the weight of what Jill still can't bring herself to be explicit about. But not for long. This isn't a story of what could have happened, but of what did.]
I expected it, deep down, expected it would be that way until he had this fill and cast aside to meet my end. What I didn't expect was my awakening to save me from depravity that night. My awakening as Shiva's Dominant.
[Now she looks back up at Tifa, wondering what kind of reaction she'll get to that admission, if there is one at all.]
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But there is some familiarity that flickers in her eyes when she mentions Shiva, her gaze snapping up from her hands.
She knows of her, knows that she is a summon in their world.
Her hand goes to her glove, fingers wrapping over the materia that sits there, her finger poking at the bright red one that sits in the center. While her own would summon Ifrit, or Clive, she doesn't even know which one of them might have Shiva's, if any. It would be a relief if none of them did, to be honest. She doesn't want another Yuffie situation happening again.]
And... did that change things for you? After that? I'm guessing not for the better, but...
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How many actually exist? Jill does not want to imagine the number.]
No. It got worse. [Jill wets her suddenly dry lips on a sip of tea before setting the cup back down on the table.] While the Iron Kingdom worships the Mothercrystals, they do not feel the same about Dominants. We are abominations, living sins... monsters.
[The shudder that runs across her shoulders and down her spine is visible enough to have someone think she's caught a chill, but it's all because of how that one word still stabs her deeply.]
Suddenly, I was filth to them. Too disgraceful. That did not prevent them from using me to their benefit, though.
[Her stomach churns and that one sip feels like it threatens to make a reappearance. Jill manages through, speaking a little too quickly in order to get the worst parts of her past out before losing what little nerve she has left, what tiny amount of courage has Jill allowing Tifa to see the worst of her.]
They forced a child to become an murderer. A child, who refused to do so no matter how many times the lash came, only to concede once told that if she did what they wished, they wouldn't continue to hurt the others. A child who believed that lie, only to witness the misdeeds done against them over and over again anyway. A child who then became a woman, still telling herself she was doing those things because the Ironblood were forcing her hand. That all those deaths on the battlefield, those nameless souls she reaped, weren't her fault even though their blood was on her hands. A woman who, after thirteen years of subjugation, decided that her death was the only form of relief from the pain.
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Tifa never did find it hard to empathize with others. To feel the hurt that Jill feels in her own heart is the part that comes so naturally to her that she sometimes hates it... but it allows her to understand, too. However, whether it makes it worse that she actually knows those feelings and is familiar with them or not. That there are others who suffer through the same sort of thoughts. And while they aren't quite the same, they are still there, and the fact that anyone else has had to go through it—no, that someone as kind as Jill had to, only makes her hate the world just a little bit more.
Makes her hate the people responsible for making it so messed up in the first place.
She has nothing to say... not yet, anyway, because what does one say to that? She remembers Barret's words as they stood in the ruins of Sector Seven, her whole body threatening to break under her pent-up rage, but she doesn't know if they will work here.
So, instead, she unclenches a fist and reaches across the table. Her hand finds Jill's and she steals it away from her cup to grip it, tight, wrapping it up in her own warmth. And as she looks across at her, understanding flickers bright in Tifa's red eyes, her empathy shining through what look like tears starting to form.]
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But she can't push the other woman into responding, so Jill can only sit there in her discomfort and anxiety, grey eyes searching Tifa's face for a clue into her thoughts. The pinched brow, the way her features twist, says Tifa battles an internal war with herself but over what, she cannot guess.
If, in the end, Tifa finds that knowing her past is too atrocious to move on from, then she will accept it. She'd have to. Tifa wouldn't be the first person to hate her for what she did; after all, the people who died on the battlefield had families too.
But that version of the end isn't what happens. To Jill's surprise, Tifa is suddenly reaching out towards her, pulling her hand over to hold theirs together, a firm supportive squeeze. Words now mean little in the face of actions, and as Jill looks over at Tifa and witnesses the watering of her eyes, the telltale sting in her own eyes begin to form.]
I was beginning to fear you hated me.
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Regardless, she gives her fingers a squeeze, her heart twisting in her chest hearing that.]
Don't think I could ever.
[She tilts her head, though.]
Why would you think so?
[There's no judgment there, rather a worry that it would be her automatic assumption...]
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[Whether it was their blood families, found family, or mere friends, Jill was haunted by the ghosts of angry loved ones in her nightmares. Maybe it would have been easier to accept if the corpses of the dead soldiers came after her instead, but knowing that there were still living people left behind in just as much pain as she was made things worse.
She looks down at their hands intertwined together, releasing a shaky breath as she tries not to let loose the tears that threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.]
My hands are not clean. I did what I could to atone for my crimes, my wrongs that I could not fully right, but those deaths will forever stain them.
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Tifa can't exactly say that... no, they're not. She can't say that Jill's hands are clean, because not only does she think that would diminish those feelings, that is something that she knows all too well that some people just have to live with. As difficult as it is to believe and even admit.]
I get it...
[It's said quietly, Tifa's gaze dropping to her tea, but her hold never faltering.]
We do what we can to try and make things right... to fight for the people still alive, but... it's hard to shake that off. Impossible, even, I think...
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Perhaps. I know that the High Priest can no longer hurt anyone else anymore. I made sure of that.
[And so did her rapier.]
It was all I could do. I've come to accept that other things are out of my control. [Jill falls silent for a moment, before speaking in voice cracked with emotion around the edges.] Most of all, I've learned to forgive myself.
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But she thinks she can piece together what Jill means, and she can't say that she blames her for it. Which makes her feel just a little worse about the whole thing—she isn't one to wish death upon anyone, even her worst enemies, but what that man had done was truly abhorrent that "thank god" was the first thing she thought upon hearing that.]
I'm glad you could at least do that much...
[Tifa wishes that she could get that far. It's admirable, really...]
Think that might be the hardest part.
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Admirable, sure, but Jill has to disagree with the other woman on what the most difficult of living this sort of life is.]
No, the hardest part is letting go of the fear. [She shakes her head softly as she glances down to her cup.] I told you my story for a point. Not to horrify you or for pity, but for you to understand what I say next.
[Jill pauses, breathing deep to exhale shakily. She somehow has come to trust Tifa already, for some strange reason, but admitting the scars left behind still brings on the nerves.]
I have confessed this to but one person, but I fear being forced to act upon someone else's whims again. And while Clive's story is different yet similar to my own, he also deserves to live a life without that fear. That is why I ask, no, plead to you not to call upon Ifrit in the way you can.
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Tifa stares across at her, trying not to look as surprised as she is, but probably failing. It lasts only a moment, however, before her expression softens, and she squeezes Jill's hand gently.]
You have nothing to worry about on that.
[While there is plenty to worry about for sure, Tifa understands, she tries to offer her as reassuring a smile as ever.]
I have no plans on using my summon materia. And I'm going to do whatever I can to keep it safe. I promise.