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Description
All The Small Things

"Vincent Valentine," a voice, her voice, emotionally void as ever, though she's trying to fix that, says through the white pure that falls from the sky, "Marlene told me to come up and yell at you for coming up to the roof to sulk. Should I carry out such orders?" She said with the slight tilt of her head. Pretty blue eyes that seemed so deep and shallow, so empty and yearning for something—a something that she'll have to find out on her own—burns through white and scarlet and black and flesh.

She's so small, compared to everything. Who isn't small, compared to everything, he muses. He stifles a coarse laugh, and she doesn't know what it's directed at. Yuffie gave her, her old clothes. Things that should be too small for her fit her perfectly. Will this one be stuck, like he is, forever? Will she age? Will she die?

He breathes in cold air that burns his throat. She is quiet, waiting for a reply. "So I should come back in then?" He asks.

"I do not know. They simply sent me to convey a message." She replies, the quality of her voice is less robotic, and more human, but he's the only one who can hear the difference. "Tifa said that if you resist, I should tell you that it is Christmas, and that it should be spent with family. I think it is an attempt to guilt you back into coming down." She reports.

He doesn't move or sigh or nod. He simply stays where he is, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Something that should be a slight, low laugh escapes her—a human sound, she is getting better slowly, he decides. "You are being difficult, Vincent Valentine. You do not speak, and though I know I cannot do anything to make you, it would be helpful if you did." She pauses. "They might yell at me then." That last line was light, and he thinks it's a joke. She's trying.

"Then don't go down. They can't yell at either of us if we're up here, and they're down there, right?"

"I suppose so, but why do you wish to be all alone?"

"I only needed some air. I'll come back down in a little bit." He assures. "It's…your first Christmas, isn't it, Shelke, since the Tsviets?"

"Yes." She says only that because there is nothing else to add.

"And, winter, too?"

"Yes." She says.

Vincent leans his head back, and onyx strands of hair fall back with him. He sticks out his tongue, and one, small little flake lands on his tongue. It melts, and tastes like water. Not like he expected differently.

She mimics him, yet it takes a while before one lands on her tongue. Three land in and near her eye, one on her nose, and a few just dance out of the way.

It was an odd gesture, for both of them. "Yuffie," Vincent starts, "told me that you have to do that at least once a winter."

Shelke nods in agreement. Something like a smile crosses her face. At least, it's the best she can muster. "These things," Shelke says, "these small things, I missed. I think I can see that more…clearly now. I also know that I want you to be part of them, Vincent Valentine." Shelke tells him. "I think that, perhaps, they want you to be part of them too." She pauses and looks at the door leading downstairs, and then at him. "Do not spend all of the party alone, Vincent Valentine. I would not want that. They would not want that." Shelke heads to the door that covers the stairs leading down to the bar. She opens the door and pauses. "She would not want you to be alone, either." He deserves some happiness too. Shelke heads downstairs. She knows that, no matter what, a part of him will always belong to Lucrecia. That part is growing smaller, but it will always exist.

It doesn't help the unexplainable knot in her chest, though.

"All the small things…" he muses, just before going in, "I…I want to enjoy them too." He heads downstairs. "If only for their sake,"

Description
All The Small Things

"Vincent Valentine," a voice, her voice, emotionally void as ever, though she's trying to fix that, says through the white pure that falls from the sky, "Marlene told me to come up and yell at you for coming up to the roof to sulk. Should I carry out such orders?" She said with the slight tilt of her head. Pretty blue eyes that seemed so deep and shallow, so empty and yearning for something—a something that she'll have to find out on her own—burns through white and scarlet and black and flesh.

She's so small, compared to everything. Who isn't small, compared to everything, he muses. He stifles a coarse laugh, and she doesn't know what it's directed at. Yuffie gave her, her old clothes. Things that should be too small for her fit her perfectly. Will this one be stuck, like he is, forever? Will she age? Will she die?

He breathes in cold air that burns his throat. She is quiet, waiting for a reply. "So I should come back in then?" He asks.

"I do not know. They simply sent me to convey a message." She replies, the quality of her voice is less robotic, and more human, but he's the only one who can hear the difference. "Tifa said that if you resist, I should tell you that it is Christmas, and that it should be spent with family. I think it is an attempt to guilt you back into coming down." She reports.

He doesn't move or sigh or nod. He simply stays where he is, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Something that should be a slight, low laugh escapes her—a human sound, she is getting better slowly, he decides. "You are being difficult, Vincent Valentine. You do not speak, and though I know I cannot do anything to make you, it would be helpful if you did." She pauses. "They might yell at me then." That last line was light, and he thinks it's a joke. She's trying.

"Then don't go down. They can't yell at either of us if we're up here, and they're down there, right?"

"I suppose so, but why do you wish to be all alone?"

"I only needed some air. I'll come back down in a little bit." He assures. "It's…your first Christmas, isn't it, Shelke, since the Tsviets?"

"Yes." She says only that because there is nothing else to add.

"And, winter, too?"

"Yes." She says.

Vincent leans his head back, and onyx strands of hair fall back with him. He sticks out his tongue, and one, small little flake lands on his tongue. It melts, and tastes like water. Not like he expected differently.

She mimics him, yet it takes a while before one lands on her tongue. Three land in and near her eye, one on her nose, and a few just dance out of the way.

It was an odd gesture, for both of them. "Yuffie," Vincent starts, "told me that you have to do that at least once a winter."

Shelke nods in agreement. Something like a smile crosses her face. At least, it's the best she can muster. "These things," Shelke says, "these small things, I missed. I think I can see that more…clearly now. I also know that I want you to be part of them, Vincent Valentine." Shelke tells him. "I think that, perhaps, they want you to be part of them too." She pauses and looks at the door leading downstairs, and then at him. "Do not spend all of the party alone, Vincent Valentine. I would not want that. They would not want that." Shelke heads to the door that covers the stairs leading down to the bar. She opens the door and pauses. "She would not want you to be alone, either." He deserves some happiness too. Shelke heads downstairs. She knows that, no matter what, a part of him will always belong to Lucrecia. That part is growing smaller, but it will always exist.

It doesn't help the unexplainable knot in her chest, though.

"All the small things…" he muses, just before going in, "I…I want to enjoy them too." He heads downstairs. "If only for their sake,"