ℵ memory 01 ℵ
- she's in a colorful jumble of a room, all heavy wooden beams and pale plaster and brightly painted paper screens, but other than trying not to trip over a low table with a blue tablecloth thrown across it - how come this all looks so familiar? - she doesn't have much attention to spare for looking at the decor.
There are several very grumpy-looking people standing around the room. She has an armful of brightly glittering globes and she has just finished hurriedly cramming some of them into the round slots in a sword that is much, much too big for any sane human being to swing. Darting across the room and jumping nimbly over said table, she gets to work on a wicked-looking rifle, which is being held out to her by - oh my gawd, shrieks something in her head, it's that guy from the restaurant with his hair all grown out crazy and he's wearing somebody's curtains - a tall, baleful-looking man with dark hair. He gives her a cool, dry look, and she sticks out her tongue at him.
(She is not happy about this. She wants to keep those - those materia so much she can taste it, but there are at least three annoyed gazes burning into the back of her head, so she sucks it up and does what she's gotta do. She takes some small satisfaction in the fact that she's putting them back at complete random, thinking smugly of the amount of shuffling they're going to have to do later if they want to use any of them correctly in battle.)
The last materia is green and feels like crackling static electricity in her fingers. She shoves it in and dusts off her hands, thrusting out her chest proudly.
"Phew, perfect," she says, grinning unrepentantly at them all. Her skin feels itchy and sunburnt, and she isn't quite sure why. "Now the materia is back in its rightful place."
"Hey." It's the guy with the stupidly big sword, wrinkling his nose at the beautiful sparkly spots of color she's just bestowed so graciously on him. He looks like a disgruntled chocobo when he does that, it is a terrible waste of his pretty ladyface - and it occurs to her with a sudden shock that that's him, that's the spikey-headed jerk, he was in her dreams...! - and he pokes at one of them with a gloved finger and frowns at her, all suspicious-like. "The placement of it is all messed up."
She is laughing so, so hard on the inside, but she is playing it cool and innocent, with a "Huh?" and a "Don't be so picky," when everything sort of jolts and slips sideways and upside-down and -
There are several very grumpy-looking people standing around the room. She has an armful of brightly glittering globes and she has just finished hurriedly cramming some of them into the round slots in a sword that is much, much too big for any sane human being to swing. Darting across the room and jumping nimbly over said table, she gets to work on a wicked-looking rifle, which is being held out to her by - oh my gawd, shrieks something in her head, it's that guy from the restaurant with his hair all grown out crazy and he's wearing somebody's curtains - a tall, baleful-looking man with dark hair. He gives her a cool, dry look, and she sticks out her tongue at him.
(She is not happy about this. She wants to keep those - those materia so much she can taste it, but there are at least three annoyed gazes burning into the back of her head, so she sucks it up and does what she's gotta do. She takes some small satisfaction in the fact that she's putting them back at complete random, thinking smugly of the amount of shuffling they're going to have to do later if they want to use any of them correctly in battle.)
The last materia is green and feels like crackling static electricity in her fingers. She shoves it in and dusts off her hands, thrusting out her chest proudly.
"Phew, perfect," she says, grinning unrepentantly at them all. Her skin feels itchy and sunburnt, and she isn't quite sure why. "Now the materia is back in its rightful place."
"Hey." It's the guy with the stupidly big sword, wrinkling his nose at the beautiful sparkly spots of color she's just bestowed so graciously on him. He looks like a disgruntled chocobo when he does that, it is a terrible waste of his pretty ladyface - and it occurs to her with a sudden shock that that's him, that's the spikey-headed jerk, he was in her dreams...! - and he pokes at one of them with a gloved finger and frowns at her, all suspicious-like. "The placement of it is all messed up."
She is laughing so, so hard on the inside, but she is playing it cool and innocent, with a "Huh?" and a "Don't be so picky," when everything sort of jolts and slips sideways and upside-down and -