“Oh.”

She should have expected as much, but her mouth was apparently not ready to end conversation there.

“I don’t either,” she confessed, then amended, “that is—I don’t celebrate on the day. I just..am festive leading up to it since I have no family or…”

She wondered if she was talking too much. She was. She knew she was. This new world, however, brought with it self containment and discipline and generally not turning to various pills to keep her personality under control. This was failing her at the moment.

“…friends…except for Mr. Tuesti of course but he’s always so busy that—“

Stop. Marie. Stop.

“Maybe next year I can convince Mr. Tuesti to let me arrange a Holiday Ball.”

He thought she was cheery. She succeeded at making people happy. She could have died at the compliment. Of all the adulation she’d received in her life for her beauty, party throwing, and other more nefarious actions she’d taken in her life, it was Vincent Valentine suggesting she made people happy that made her think perhaps she did in fact still deserve to be on this planet.

Even if he had probably said as much for the sake of small talk.

Suddenly on cloud nine, her elbow slipped when she tried to rest it on her desk, the chin that was heading towards her open palm nearly crashing into her monitor and a nervous, definitely not poised laugh made an attempt to cover it up.

“I love this season,” she told him moving to pretend to fix one of her pins, a distraction from her clumsy slip-up, only to realize she’d worn her hair down today and instead, absently began fluffing her curls absently.

“People make more of an effort to be happy. I used to love it back before…when there was so much accessible to everyone. Now I might like it even more, seeing how despite so much loss, people are still coming together and finding ways to be festive, even if it might look differently for a while.

“Do you celebrate at all?”

@reno2ndgun

Reno left a message with Reeve to pass on to Valentine. Succinct and to the point. 

 Trouble with Deepground. Former scientist working under Hojo with a new kind of materia I haven't seen before that doesn't require an equipment slot. Been tracking for a few months. Ambush left Elena and Rude Out of Commission and Tseng MIA. Need backup. Please help. I've run out of leads. 

 A PHS number is tacked onto the end of the message.

Marie didn’t have time to be put out at the rejection of her cookies.

He noticed her.

Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t notice her existence. She liked to think they were slowly headed in the direction of being friends one day, but he specifically commented on her appearance and that in and of itself was a Christmas Miracle.

“Oh thank you!” she chimed, standing and coming around her desk to do a little twirl. A cranberry and cream plaid wrap hung around her shoulders, offsetting the solid forest green of her dress, the smallest little gold belt at her waist. Working for Reeve, most days she forewent the heels she’d donned in the hallowed halls of ShinRa, for dress flats that allowed her to move quicker. She had no one to seduce in here, after all.

Reeve would disagree, of course.

“I try to bring cheer to everyone who stops at my desk,” she explained, moving back to her position and lowering herself into her chair.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

She turned abruptly, her hair not moving as quickly as her neck, catching in her face when he presented the little package. She was less poised about pushing the locks from her face this time, excitement very much alive in her eyes.

He could have won her heart with food alone and he didn’t even realize it.

“Well Alistair has moved into the old farm house,” she told him, returning to her work preparing the tea, “he had another baby so they wanted the space.”

She dug in the drawers for napkins that might be appropriate for the meal and settled on two she’d embroidered hydrangeas on.

“And Beric has taken over the little house. There’s a girl he fancies so…Alistair says he’s trying to impress her by having his own home for her to marry into when the time comes.”

Into the tea pot went the hot water, filling the space around the table with fragrance as it hit the tea leaves. Over the steam, Marie leaned over towards Vincent, lowering her voice a bit.

“But Papa and I know better. He just wants…privacy with her.”

Marie was feeling the spirit of the season. She always had, in spite of whatever circumstance came her way, but on especially solid footing this year, she was radiating it.

Mr. Tuesti didn’t have time for outwardly celebrating with her, but he was happy to go along with whatever she presented him with—a stark contrast to her previous employer and any of those prior to him.

Of course, his enthusiasm to join in with her festivities did not go without his own very thinly veiled suggestions.

Perhaps it was that Mr. Valentine was a good friend to him, or that he caught on to the way she pined for the quiet, brooding, gothic novel character of a man. Maybe it was both, but Reeve always seemed to have an idea for the two to get together, to how had he phrased it one day?

Stoke the embers of friendship.

And she…wanted to. Truth be told she wanted much more than friendship from Vincent, but even that could have been chalked up to not having had any real romance in her life before. She didn’t have much of a reason for her unyielding desire other than his appearance and the way she caught him sometimes looking at her.

She thought it might have been interest. A different sort of interest than most had ever looked at her with before.

But she remained silent on the matter. He rarely struck up any sort of conversation with her and Reeve himself had told her he wasn’t sociable.

She wasn’t expecting him in today, not that she often ever expected him. He came in when he needed to or when the job was done. She was always pleasantly surprised.

“Mr. Valentine!”

Her greeting was as enthusiastic as ever, despite his messy appearance. She wasn’t bothered by it. It was a messy job, cleaning up the planet.

“I’m afraid Mr. Tuesti in on a call right now but I can check in and see how long he might be.”

Reaching for her personal phone, she took her time composing a short message to the man on the other side of the wall. [text: Mr. Tuesti] Mr. Valentine is here

to which a prompt response came in.

Fifteen minutes. Give or take.

She set the phone aside and reached for the tin of iced gingerbread cookies she’d made, shaped like snowflakes and stars, lifting them up in offering.

“He says about fifteen minutes. Do you want some cookies while you wait?”  

“Tea,” she repeated, nodding, this time her smile spreading fully, reflecting in her eyes.

She held his hand as she turned, leaning the broom up against the house as she led them inside. It wasn’t until they were in the kitchen that she let go, needing to light the stove for the kettle. The warmth in her cheeks was unmistakable as she worked, setting out a tin of cookies she’d made the day before.

This was how they’d met.

“I made some jam while you were away,” she told him, placing the glass jar before him, “I…I always think of you when I do these things.”

A curl popped onto her cheek and she moved it away gently, wondering how comfortable she could get without coming off as a harlot.

“Since…we always seem to be exchanging food.”

It was the first time he’d touched her with his bare hands. It was warmer than she’d expected, and her heart leapt, but her eyes cried.

It was happiness, and she had to assure him, to let him know his touch didn’t offend, so she overstepped every boundary society had made for them and brought her hand up to his, holding him close, a thousand scandals in a simple gesture.

“Anything,” she whispered, one hand still tight on the broom handle as she gazed up at him, “and everything, my lord.”

That was what she would give him if he wanted it. If he wanted her.

@marie-dufresne

Marie stood on the porch of the farmhouse, gripping the broom in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt it too. She didn’t deserve it. She was nobody. A young widowed daughter of a farmer.

He was…a lord.

A lord that she had befriended. His awkward nature with females and her inexperience with etiquette had made them an easy pair out in this country estate. They grew close, but despite her lack of experience, she wasn’t a fool, and any romantic notions she had of him, she kept buried deep down. There were some boundaries even she knew not to cross.

She married a good man and he supported the match. The wedding feast was held on his grounds and when she left for the new hearth she would call home, a part of her heart ached. She returned before two years were up, the harsh winter having stolen both husband and beloved dog.

Though she was happy to be home, back with her fathers and brothers, it was his presence that kept her from despair and when fever took her, his care that kept her from death.

And then he left. Back to his country, leaving her once again as a farmgirl.

He hadn’t left her exactly, but it had been a firm reminder of her place in the world, and though she continued to cherish the friendship they had, she pushed down the longing once again, and the wishing that if she’d only been born higher. Those wishes were disgusting and ungrateful. Her father and brothers were better men than she ever could have asked for. She’d never wanted more than them until she’d met someone unattainable.

And now…he was here. He was here with his horse in front of her half swept front porch. Her braid was messy, her apron was dirty and he was calling her home.

“Then do you…”

Her bottom lip was trembling and he knuckles were white but her lips were trying to smile, her heart racing with uncertainty, and with hope.

“…do you want to come inside?”

The thrill of her outing was snuffed at his questioning. He wasn’t scolding her, but it felt like chastising.

She joined him at the sofa, the electric feel of his hand on hers, and she let her little Prada flats fall to the ground as she curled up against him, hugging his arm. She wasn’t dressed for seduction, in white trousers and a navy blue cashmere sweater she’d commissioned on Etsy. She felt normal, she felt almost like…a girlfriend.

For a moment she didn’t answer him, hugging his arm a bit tighter and staring into his dwelling, but taking nothing in.

“I had a job this morning and he said something that just made me realize I needed to take control of…something. Even if that something is only two hours.”

“It’s not madness,” she breathed, returning his kiss, exhilaration running through her veins. She was never so bold, always waiting for him to come to her, always following The Rules.

Well, they bent The Rules, that was certain, but The Rules themselves never went unbroken exactly.

“Despite his stature, Gabriel is as stealthy as any slender fox,” she purred, reaching up to stroke the side of his face, “he took me out. We have two hours.”

Two hours for what? It didn’t matter. They were alone, they were unwatched, and Marie was high on rebellion.

“And he found you long before it became relevant to me. Please don’t be angry; he’s doing his job.”

@dirge-of-valentinex4

• “  i thought you were gone.  for good. ”
• “  you left and—  i thought you weren’t coming back.  ”
• “  i miss you.  i know i’m not supposed to,  but.  i just had to see you.  ”  
• “  please don’t scare me like that again.  i can take a lot of things,  but not losing you.  ”
• “  i can’t even take the very thought of you getting hurt.  ”
• “  you could’ve gotten yourself killed! you could’ve— fuck!  you scared the shit outta me.  ” 
• “  yes.  i am telling you what to do.  i’m telling you not to pull something like that again because—  ‘cause fucking hell.  i care about you.  okay? ”  
• “  i found myself driving home and then.  well i was on my way here.  ‘cause i guess…you’re still my home.  ” 
• “  please,  tell me why you’re upset.  tell me who did this?  ”
• “  you don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know.  i can clean up my own messes.  ”
• “  don’t talk.  just get the fuck over here and hold me.  ”
• “  loving you is like having my heart just out in the world.  outside of my body walking around.  every time i see you hurting,  it kills me.  ”
• “  i made you cry.  and i hate myself for that.  i swore i wouldn’t be one of the people who left you hurting.  ”
• “  you really hurt me this time.  but i want to let go of that.  i really do want to forgive you i’m just scared you’ll hurt me again.  ”
• “  i know you’re mad at me right now,  but i’m the one who’s here.  let me be here.  let me help.  you can be angry later.  ”
• “  i’m here now.  i know i wasn’t before.  but i should’ve been.  and i’m not going anywhere.  i’m not gonna let that happen again.  ”
• “  it’s time to come home now.  ”
• “  that’s enough.  you’ve got your revenge.  let’s go.  ”
• “  i know you’re hurting.  and i can’t fix that.  but i can refuse to let you hurt alone.  ”
• “  i’m never letting go of you.  i missed you so fucking much.  ”
• “  look at me,  you’re safe.  and you’re not alone.  and i’ll never let you be alone again.  you understand?  ”
• “  i broke my promise to you once.  i’ll never do it again.  ”
• “  i don’t need you to go white knighting and fix all this.  i just want you here.  with me.  that will make me feel better.  ”
• “  just stay still and let me hold you.  ”
• “  you don’t have to hide your tears.  let it out.  then we’ll move on,  together.  ”
• “  i just.  needed to talk to you ‘cause.  somehow you always know what to say.  ”
• “  don’t bury your feelings.  sadness.  hurt.  rage.  feel it.  acknowledge it so you can decide what you want to do with it.  not what it will do to you.  ”
• “  i miss your smile.  and not that sad one you try to fool everyone with.  the real one.  the one you used to show me.  ”
• “  come here.  i’m taking care of you tonight.  and you’re gonna let me.  ”  
• 1) our muses reunite after sender thought receiver was dead. 
• 2) our muses reunite after receiver thought sender was dead. 
• 3) sender shows up at receiver’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 
• 4) receiver shows up at sender’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 
• 5) our muses are on bad terms but reunite after one of them nearly dies. 
• 6) sender finds receiver crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 
• 7) receiver finds sender crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 
• 8) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but sender rushes to take care of receiver after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 
• 9) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but receiver rushes to take care of sender after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 
• 10) sender hurt receiver in some way,  which led to receiver doing something reckless and sender shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath. 
• 11) receiver hurt sender in some way,  which led to sender doing something reckless and receiver shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath.
• 12) our muses are in a fight,  but cuddle anyway because they don’t like sleeping alone. 
• 13) receiver wakes sender from a nightmare. 
• 14) sender wakes receiver from a nightmare. 
• 15) sender wakes up in the hospital and finds receiver at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 
• 16) receiver wakes up in the hospital and finds sender at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 
• 17) our muses are currently on the outs,  but receiver goes through something traumatic and sender pushes past their friends to get to them. 
• 18) our muses are currently on the outs,  but sender goes through something traumatic and receiver pushes past their friends to get to them. 

She accepted the towel, patting herself down and wrapping it around her chest, tucking in the end, watching the way his hair defied the state he typically kept it in. Without thinking, she took a few steps forward, catching his face and lifting herself up for a kiss.

“I took home plenty from dinner tonight,” she told him, rubbing her nose gently against his before she stepped back and reached for a hair tie, beginning to braid her now unruly hair.

“Roast chicken, potatoes, a variety of vegetables, gravy…I am going to put together a pot pie for dinner tomorrow but I have more than enough to heat you a plate. Or both of us, really. The talk of food is making me a bit hungry too.”

Marie was not quite the night owl that the Valentines were, but she did tend to stay up later in the Summers, though still turning in before Vincent.

Tonight she was winding down uploading her latest photos to her computer and mentally making notes of cropping and edits she wanted to do.

There were several contests she had her eyes on entering—the sheer thought of winning professional recognition (and a bit of money!) for her art a new concept to her. The photo club at school bad been one thing. A page and an interview in a national magazine was something else altogether.

She sat up a bit when she heard Grimoire’s voice, her first thought that he had an outing planned for the three of them the next day, but when she slid from her bed and skipped across the room to open the door, her blood ran cold and her knuckles tightened on the handle, unable to move as she stared up at him, frozen by his words.

“….what?”