*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.
*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.