May 29th, 2007
|01:22 pm - ((Ahaha. Six months between posts. Time Has No Meaning, Yay.))|
The first thing Aerith does when she gets home is take a shower. A really long one. Something about fighting people, rather than monsters, gets into your hair and skin and sticks there...
Safely clean, wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe and hoping her mother doesn't notice all the steam, Aerith flops back onto her bed and sighs. Her head is quiet, like it hasn't been for years - Aerith thought she'd be relieved when it was over and the noise in the back of her head went from a dull roar back to a murmur, but now even the murmur is muted and Aerith just feels empty.
Maybe, she thinks, resting her arm across her forehead, the Planet doesn't need a Cetra anymore.
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: silence
June 24th, 2006
*Aerith sits at her window, curled up with her hair floating loose almost to the floor. The voices of the Planet are clamoring at her, and she can't sort it all out...*
*...but one thing is very, very clear. Something big is about to happen, and it's all centered around Jenova. Aerith fiddles with her pager, brow set in stubborn concentration. The voices will just have to wait a moment, or at the very least learn how to speak one at a time.*
What's going on?
Current Mood: worried
May 2nd, 2006
|09:58 pm - *In Aerith's front yard*|
*Not since Aerith was a youngster has the Gainsborough's garden been in such disarray - 'disarray' being a relative term. A number of flowers have been uprooted and moved to flowerpots - probably for later replanting - to leave a clear oval of dirt. At one end is Aerith, exhausted and sweaty and wearing pants for once, her staff gripped in both hands. At the other... well, a hand-lettered sign proclaims the monstrosity as Jenova, but that's where the resemblance ends. It might be more accurately described as a female scarecrow on crack.*
*hff* *pff* *hff* *pff* Once more. *hff* *pff* Yaaaaah!
*Aerith charges, staff held high, righteous fury in her eyes. The end comes down on faux-Jenova's head with a resounding clang. Aerith rebounds, stumbles, and regains her footing in time to watch Jenova's head wobble and fall off. Slain by a mighty blow, or shoddy construction? The wise onlooker will choose the former if he knows what's good for him.*
*dashing sweat from her eyes, grinning* Hah. Teach you to make a martyr out of me.
Current Mood: determined
April 1st, 2006
|01:12 pm - It's good to be home.|
No sooner do I return from the Temple do I get propositioned. Nothing new, granted, but this one was a little odder than most. It's a little hard to be angry at him, though. ^_^;
The weapons dealer sent me a letter. Zanzibar seems to be settling in well. He likes the heat of the blacksmith's forge, so he likes to hang out above the oven and watch. Maybe when he grows up, the blacksmith can make armor for him. Wouldn't that be neat? An armored guard-zolom. ^_^
...yes, I still miss him. But it's good to know he's happy.
I learned a lot from our trip to the Temple, not being able to go inside notwithstanding. *goodnatured glower at Zax* Mostly they told me about my mother's Materia - Holy. *brief smile* I knew it was special, but...
...well, if things go bad, I know what to do now. That's comforting.
Current Mood: contemplative
March 15th, 2006
*A sign hangs on Aerith's door...*
Gone to the Temple of the Ancients with Zax. Back in a few days.
February 7th, 2006
|12:11 am - ^______________^|
*Aerith sprawls in the midst of her garden at home, a peaceful, happy expression on her face. Her hair is pulled back in a disheveled, hasty ponytail rather than her customary braid, and she rolls her White Materia between her fingers idly as she stares blissfully into the empty space above the Plate.*
I was with Zax last night.
It was wonderful.
*goes back to blissing out*
Current Mood: loved
January 27th, 2006
|11:27 pm - Problems.|
*sighs, snuggling Zanzibar close*
Mom found out about Zan today. She... wasn't happy. She said I can't keep him anymore.
But I can't just let him go, he'd never survive in the wild...!
*sighs and pets Zanzibar* I'm sorry, little one. *sad smile*
Current Mood: sad
January 25th, 2006
|10:17 pm - The Guilty Pleasures meme, from Zax.|
I don't know what he expects to learn from this...
( Click hereCollapse )
*sighs* Confession is good for the soul.
December 14th, 2005
|12:10 pm - Brooding|
Aerith sits in her garden with her arms clasped over her knees, hiding among the plants as she did as a child. Nearby, Zanzibar coils in the sand pit she'd cleared for him, watching his adopted mother with his characteristic calm gaze. He's already showing signs of his first molt.
So... that was Jenova. The Crisis...
She shudders, and her braid falls from her shoulder to swing down over her back. Absently she reaches back to fiddle with it, playing with the ends nervously.
No wonder the Cetra were afraid of her. No wonder the Planet's afraid of her...
Mother... what do I do now?
She pulls on her braid in that peculiar way that gives her the pressure on the back of her head that lets her know that her only token of her mother is still safely nestled in her hair. Aerith smiles briefly.
I still have this...
Current Mood: scared
December 6th, 2005
It's raining and bitter cold, and Aerith is trudging home from Wall Market, thoroughly disgruntled. Her flower basket (still full) swings dejectedly from one elbow, and her arms are filled with a round bundle wrapped in a cheap blanket - the source of her ill humor.
Well, she thinks, I'll have to incubate this little guy tonight, that's all. Tomorrow I'll head out to the chocobo farm and let them take charge of the little troublemaker.
It had been, typically, a squats contest at the gym in Wall Marker, with this chocobo egg the proprieter had acquired somewhere as the prize. When Aerith had learned that chocobo eggs were the favorite food of bodybuilders... well. It had taken some time, and her thighs were killing her, but she'd rescued the chocobo egg.
Some days it wasn't profitable being kindhearted. Aerith hadn't sold a single flower all day. Grumbling, the flower-seller ducks under an overhang to wring out her braid before making that last dash for home. She shuffles with her armload, shifting it to one arm... and it squeaks.
...oh, Crater-ice, not now...
Aerith casts the blanket aside and bites her lip at the definite, widening crack. Peeping noises are definitely issuing from the egg, now, and Aerith crouches, heedless of the rain.
No, no, no! Go back in your egg this instant, young man... or lady, whichever, I cannot take care of a baby chocobo, I'll fall in love with it and not want to give it up...!
Aerith trails off as the egg quivers in her arms and seems to crumple in on itself, and a black, sinuous, very featherless head rises from it, a forked tongue flickers from a wide mouth.
Oh... sweet... Holy. A Zolom. It's a baby Midgar Zolom.
And the hell of it is, the slimy little reptile infant seems to have imprinted on her... and curse her heart, she was falling in love with it, and she knew she could never give it up.
*deep sigh* Mom's going to freak...
Current Mood: shocked
Current Music: rain on a tin overhang