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Description
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Summary: On his usual morning stroll into the kitchen for coffee, Rude takes a small detour down memory lane.
Pairing/Characters: Rude
Setting: FF7
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Type: One Shot Drabble
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix, however, the story, ideas, interpretations and original characters all belong to me

Casually Rude strolled into his living room, quietly yawning as he stretched his muscles. He had just woken up and like usual, was walking past his plants on his morning trek to the kitchen to make coffee. Today however, something made the stoic man stop. Perhaps it was because he was still in a daze and not fully awake, maybe it was because his mental barriers were not fully up after his long slumber, maybe it was just because he was relaxed and feeling particularly sentimental that day, but on this particular morning the bald man stopped in front of his prized bonsai tree. As he admired his work, one of his ungloved hands fell to touch the smooth piece of glass upon which the treasured possession was sitting.

Memories flooded back to the brawler.

Memories of his mother. Memories of her smile. Memories of her laughter. Memories of her warm caring nature.

Memories of the heat from the ruins left behind. Memories of the charred smell that filled his nose. Memories of the devastation left behind in the fires wake. Memories of the chaos from the search party aftermath.

Memories of what once was. Memories of what was no longer there. Memories of what was taken from him. Memories of what he no longer had.

Rudes' fingers slid against the smooth cool glass, the gesture working to calm his thoughts.

Memories of the cactus garden his mother used to keep. Memories of the warm sand that coated his hands as he helped her tend to it as a small boy. The warm sand that melted under the intense heat of the fire. The warm sand that had turned into glass. The glass that now sat under the first Bonsai Tree his mother helped him raise. The reminder, the memorial, to what Rude once held dear.

With a smirk and a small sigh, Rude continued on his journey to the kitchen, going to carry on with his normal morning routine, happy for the small bitter stop down memory lane.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Summary: On his usual morning stroll into the kitchen for coffee, Rude takes a small detour down memory lane.
Pairing/Characters: Rude
Setting: FF7
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Type: One Shot Drabble
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix, however, the story, ideas, interpretations and original characters all belong to me

Casually Rude strolled into his living room, quietly yawning as he stretched his muscles. He had just woken up and like usual, was walking past his plants on his morning trek to the kitchen to make coffee. Today however, something made the stoic man stop. Perhaps it was because he was still in a daze and not fully awake, maybe it was because his mental barriers were not fully up after his long slumber, maybe it was just because he was relaxed and feeling particularly sentimental that day, but on this particular morning the bald man stopped in front of his prized bonsai tree. As he admired his work, one of his ungloved hands fell to touch the smooth piece of glass upon which the treasured possession was sitting.

Memories flooded back to the brawler.

Memories of his mother. Memories of her smile. Memories of her laughter. Memories of her warm caring nature.

Memories of the heat from the ruins left behind. Memories of the charred smell that filled his nose. Memories of the devastation left behind in the fires wake. Memories of the chaos from the search party aftermath.

Memories of what once was. Memories of what was no longer there. Memories of what was taken from him. Memories of what he no longer had.

Rudes' fingers slid against the smooth cool glass, the gesture working to calm his thoughts.

Memories of the cactus garden his mother used to keep. Memories of the warm sand that coated his hands as he helped her tend to it as a small boy. The warm sand that melted under the intense heat of the fire. The warm sand that had turned into glass. The glass that now sat under the first Bonsai Tree his mother helped him raise. The reminder, the memorial, to what Rude once held dear.

With a smirk and a small sigh, Rude continued on his journey to the kitchen, going to carry on with his normal morning routine, happy for the small bitter stop down memory lane.