#ciitreae

@ciitreae​

----- AND SHE IS IN HER MOST TRANQUIL STATE OF MIND when she is nurturing the flowers that lay around her. A few strands of adorably coiffed hair may sweep in into vision as she completes these tasks in a methodical manner. Gentle fingers tenderly embrace a few petals, a soft smile complimenting her features as she admires their beauty. Ratio of inhalation to expiration is much softer than usual, for she is carefree and unaware of happenings just beyond her quaint church surroundings.  As she arises from a crouched state, her hand raises in a swift motion to sweep the hair in aforementioned view and tuck behind her ear. Another glance at her basket, a quiet. ‘Hm’ followed by a nod of affirmation. Time had escaped her once more, and she is sudden with the thought of delivering the fresh produce she had fetched from the market that morn for the children at the home.  Her moments of PEACE AND CALM were, however, lived short. A cold rush of air would send a shiver down her spine and would catch her attention. Aerith turns away from the life growing on the ground to welcome what has startled her from her peaceful thoughts. Rosette lips part just slight, and a deep inhale of breath. She was alone. She was unprepared. She did not know the stranger whom made himself present, but with the Turks ever eager to have her in their custody once more, Aerith was, of recent days, more on edge than normal. 

She tried not to smile as he bent to her level and she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, tuckinga lily in beautiful locks before rocking back on her heels.

@ciitreae​​ asked   :   “ i’m a simple person. i see a cool rock , i pick it up. “ —the 'cool rock' in question might be an experimental synthetic materia that sephiroth is /not/ strictly supposed to have, but who knows? either way, the cool, round stone is in his palm, and not likely to leave it soon.

From meme - Random sentence starter

Rufus couldn’t stop his eyebrow from shooting up to near the top of his head and wondered slightly if the man had overdone it. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the ‘rock’ as Sephiroth had so called it. A highly combustible, highly unstable prototype. So much so that even Rufus retreated a few steps back. If the long haired male so much as jostled the thing too severely it would blow up in his face. 

  Gen’s idea of dealing with his emotions/feelings...

sephiroths hair isnt actually grey, its just a bunch of ash from genesis molotov fallout

“these are knives. you can use them to stab people.”

drunk history \ no longer accepting.

Zack is following behind Sephiroth, ready and eager to learn from the SOLDIER hero. With his chin in between his thumb and forefinger, he looks over the set of knives that Sephiroth is pointing out to him. He eyes them, trying to see if the knives had any special features that he would notice. If they were just regular knives, why would the general be spending time to point them out? Did they have more than the usual designation of materia slots? Were they made of a material that he wasn’t used to seeing in the Shinra armory? Were the edges serrated or smooth? Perhaps some would be double edged? Now, Zack wasn’t much of a knife user, but if there was something that looked interesting enough to him, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

But he looked them over once, then twice, then a third time. “Uhh... hmm.” He mumbles to himself, his hand falling to his side, now held against his hip. “I thought these would have something special about ‘em, but they look kinda normal to me... So... just stabbing then, huh?” He frowns slightly. He could do that with a sword! “A knife can’t be any better than what you use... what’s that thing’s name again? Masamune?”

Honey and rosemary always lingering in the air.

The mountain and rivers do well to keep her and this haven covered, the cabin sits nestled in woods, hidden by the waterfall and the cave is obstructed by water and stalagmites. Great Mako pools and towering Materia crystals to call an eternal home -- but for now, and while she has the chance, she enjoys the moments that she has with this cabin, with her garden and the small kitchen that allows her to perform a different kind of chemistry with heat, yeast, fermentation and sugar.

Typically, with the wait for the bread to bake --- it is peaceful, a couple of the local children come and try to steal the few eggs she keeps ( to call the woman a witch within the same breath as she sent them on their way ), a book keeps her attention, however, today something is on edge, something is stirring, and it draws a long pace out of her, back and forth almost to run her rug well worn. 

Part of her wants to rip the pan from the stove and cover the flue to retreat to higher, safer and more hidden ground. That nagging feeling pulls at her again, over the scent of sugar, butter and flour. It could merely be the fray of time, pulling back at her ( JENOVA cells reacting and firing against her ) reminding her she’d be here until the end of days, to stay with a planet that cared very little for her. Yet, that had always been a jib, to alarm and aggravate, to provoke she reminds herself as a cast iron is pulled from her hearthstone and bread is covered to cool. The lid of her dutch oven put aside as the kitchen towel thrown to her counter. 

It was easier to bake a problem away, to reason something away -- but this was a feeling she couldn’t shake. So it’s easier to adorn the crust of freshly baked bread with rosemary and butter.

dont lie we all know u never went home

elisa told yall she cursed u and she wasnt lyin