The world felt too heavy. Though her memories were obscured— buried deep beneath the collection of small concerns and desires that came with living— Aerith’s body could not forget the weightlessness of the Lifestream. It could not readily accept the shackles of flesh and bone, the sheer weight of her hair, and the familiar ‘thump’ of soles against floorboards.
At first, it revolted. Eventually, it conceded.
For now, Aerith was ungainly as she walked, a fawn just learning to use her legs. With a watering can in one hand, the effects were exacerbated. She stumbled. The floor creaked, and her gaze dropped in case it were to rise to meet her.
She remained upright, but the watering can slipped from her grasp, clanking against the floor of the church with a metallic echo. The contents first erupted upward— Aerith covered her face with the palms of her hands— before sloshing around inside, each ripple spilling forth a small waterfall into the forming puddle.
A sigh. This would mean another trip. Another trip added to the countless it would take to ensure every flower in the church got its fair share. Her gaze flickered between the door and the garden as she reconsidered the attachment she had toward an old ritual, and as it did so, it finally caught the stranger.
Fingers against petals. Boots so close to their fragile stems. It sparked a conditioned response.
❝ Careful. With the flowers. ❞
romaincrisis
2087
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
prguitarman
