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...
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...