“Thank you so much, everyone!” Aerith said, clasping both hands before her. “I’m very lucky to have such nice people caring about me.”

theceaselesshunt asked: A figure appears within the seemingly abandoned church but vanishes before anyone could witness her presence. Left in her wake was a decorated bouquet picked and brought back from Wutai by the ninja herself. Attached was a simple white card with the words "Happy Birthday!" written on it in a quick, sharp scrawl.

That was strange. For a second there, I thought I heard something… Aerith cast a glance over her shoulder, adjusting her position at the edge of the water into more of a crouch than a seated position. She pressed onto the balls of her feet and stood after a moment. Giving the whole of the church a quick glance, she caught sight of something that, as far as she could recall, hadn’t been there before. Her footsteps were slow, measured, and her fingertips brushed against the bouquet before pulling it into her arms. She tilted her head, her eyes taking in the blossoms before noticing a card. She plucked it and read. It was hesitant at first, her smile. It wavered as if unsure before blooming. The corners of her eyes crinkled, her eyes closed slightly, and Aerith turned toward the door of the church. “Thank you.” 

theceaselesshunt:

The two spirals of hair that framed her face, that signature ribbon that held up the rest of golden strands that flowed down her back, and the strong fragrance of flowers that wafted into a person’s nose when they passed by… only one name arises from that description. Aerith Gainsborough. The same name that popped into the young ninja’s head when the embodiment of that description appeared before her very eyes.

‘…Impossible, impossible! She’s d-dea-… she’s gone…’

Frantic thoughts in response to what she saw caused havoc in her mind as she froze mid-step, unable to continue forward. It wasn’t until her eyes glossed over did Yuffie straighten out her thoughts, or at least prevent it from going to the break down it was heading towards. “I’m hallucinating.” She declared while biting down on her bottom lip, only causing further emotional distress. But it wasn’t possible was it? Seeing someone who had already departed for the Lifestream here, in the flesh. A mere illusion…

A flood of memories washed over her from the mere thought of the flower girl. Her death, her life, and the companionship she provided the ninja. Yuffie was not one for dates, but the day the Cetra passed away will forever be burned into her memory. In fact, the anniversary of her death was fast approaching – perhaps another reason for her eyes to mistake another for Aerith?

But then the question arose. Just what if? What if it wasn’t an illusion but a miracle of some sort? But hesitation held her back, for the possibility of the opposite was still there. A small humorless laugh left her then, as she wondered when the great ninja Yuffie became such a coward. With a quick deep breath in, Yuffie whirled around to face the spot she had previously seen the girl to find… nothing.

Eyes stung as tears threatened to well up, her hands immediately rubbing at them frantically. A mumble about something being in her eye departed her mouth, serving as an excuse to actually rub back the salty droplets of water. Her knees gave in then as she fell to a crouch, arms hugging her shoulders with head buried between. The bystanders that walked by went unnoticed, as did the thought that maybe the Cetra had blended in with the crowds. Logic was never her strong suit, but then neither was coping with death.

It wasn’t that she disliked her friends or disliked their company.

It was that she didn’t know how to face them, what to say. She didn’t know how to explain her presence and, at the moment, she didn’t want to dwell on it. Their faces— and, if they were like Cloud— the stuttering, shocked words that fell from their lips would force her to acknowledge that her existence was a blight on the laws of the world. The dead were to remain dead. That was how things always were— Sephiroth excluded for her sanity. All Aerith wanted to do at the moment was revel in it all. She’d awoken that morning with the firm opinion that life was a gift she couldn’t squander away bemoaning the wrongness of her presence. 

She was alive! It should be celebrated, most of all by herself. Aerith should be dancing in the streets, singing from windows, and indulging all the wishes and longings she’d tallied while in the Lifestream. Moping was not her forte! It was not what she was known for! With this conviction simmering over the course of the morning, Aerith allowed herself the freedom to consider a to-do list that did not involve questioning the Planet or purposefully avoiding what might be streets well traversed by her old friends. The first thing that came to mind was a change of clothes. As much as she loved her old pink dress and its accessories— her arms jingled the bangles on her wrists absently— she wouldn’t fair well if she relied on them to be her only change of clothes. Thread and fabric would weaken soon enough.

Of course, once Aerith had decided upon shopping as her first task and once she hit the streets of Midgar, she realised that there was an undeniable hitch in her plan.  

A lack of gil.

Hands to temples, eyes to ground, Aerith wasn’t exactly sure why that thought hadn’t crossed her mind earlier. Yes, she’d been reborn as if nothing had happened, but none of her old possessions had come along with it. Just the clothes on her back and the boots on her feet. It was why she’d chosen the dilapidated church to rest her head, after all! Or had she forgotten? After allowing herself a moment of self-pity, Aerith subconsciously pulled herself up by the boot straps, deciding that her errand for today would be pushed to tomorrow, and that the search for a job would take precedent. A smile. Breathing out, she began to push her way through the crowd again, and it was as she did so that she noted the change in flow.

It was as if there was a… road block. She turned, pivoting on her right foot to see what it was, and her heart dropped. Sitting in her stomach, it throbbed painfully at who it was she saw crouched down in the middle of the street. Aerith had asked Gaia to keep her old friends from her! Not drop them onto her doorstep so that she could fumble with half-hearted explanations and more questions than answers. From what she could tell, they’d worked through her death. To bring up dredge up old emotions was unfair… And yet, despite her staunch disapproval, Aerith closed the distance between herself and Yuffie.

Whatever selfish reasons she had, to walk away as if she hadn’t seen her would betray every promise she ever made her friends. And so, with a conflicted expression, Aerith crouched beside Yuffie and reached a hand for her back. “This isn’t like you. What happened to my spunky thief?”

heroiclegacy:

Zack swallowed the lump in his throat painfully as he stopped just short of the old, run down church. The place looked… the same, but different. More tattered and bruised, most likely from years of being knocked around. But it still had the same aura surrounding it. Warm, loving, a place he always associated with her.

He wasn’t quite sure what he expected when he made his way here. Firstly, because there really weren’t that many placed he could go. Somehow, he doubted he’d be welcomed back at Shinra. Not that he wanted to go back there. Never. His old apartment would’ve been cleaned out by now, no doubt, and he had absolutely no clue where Cloud would’ve been, much less any of his old friends. 

But this church… even he Aerith wasn’t going to be there, he knew it would be the best place to start. A good place to calm his mind before starting anew. Zack Fair took a deep breath in and closed his eyes for good measure before making his way inside the church. It was now or never. 

It wasn’t her home anymore. All of Midgar. All of Gaia. They weren’t her home anymore, and she felt it keenly with each step she took and each breath she took and every morning she awoke to find herself flesh and bone. The proof sat on the corner of every street and in the creases of every face. Places and strangers she remembered were not the same. They had three years of experiences she neither witnessed nor could share. There was a difference between standing helpless as loved ones and strangers died at the hands of Geostigma and shifting through the Lifestream to cure souls too sick to disperse into the collective consciousness. There was a difference between rebuilding after destruction and watching from the planet’s eyes. 

Aerith was a phantom that could not choose to go away. As her eyes trailed up the remains of her church, she wondered if her new mortality was temporary or permanent. She wondered why she could run her fingertips over splintered wood and why her skin ripped under the pressure from uneven pieces. She wondered why everyone could see her, and not just those she chose to appear before. A knot formed in the base of her throat as she stepped inside her old sanctuary. Even in ruins, it held some comfort to her. Floorboards creaked under the weight of her boots— she’d returned, it seemed, in the same outfit she’d died in, albeit without the hole where Sephiroth’s sword had slid through— and she sighed with the same drawling tone.

Her hand reached out for the pillar stretching from the demolished roof to the floor; flashes of Cloud and Kadaj whispered at the edges of her mind. As she stepped across the invisible divide, it was Tifa and Loz that fluttered past. Her heart stuttered; her eyes dropped. Slowly, Aerith continued until her boots slipped past the edge of the floorboards into the water. The Great Gospel. Her healing rain. Most of the original flowers she’d tended were dead. Some drowned in her loving cure. Some through natural cycles. Others grew in their place, and it was that visual metaphor that pained her heart. 

Her presence was gone. 

It was instinctive, the way her legs propelled her forward until the water slid past her knees, past her thighs. Her breaths fluttered as older memories filtered in, things that had dulled during her time in the Lifestream. It was almost as if his hands were still there, lowering her beneath the surface of the water. Aerith pushed herself farther in, stopping only when she heard the creak of the floorboards. Body jerking, eyes widening, her desire to find the face of the stranger left her with a face too painful to study. It only took a second— the briefest of glances— for her expression to become pained. 

Aerith turned away. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. It shouldn’t be him.

dual-blades:

“They’re great!” Rikku gave the older female a thumbs up. Aerith seemed to be a really young looking woman. If she knew Cloud, Tifa or Yuffie, the blonde assumed she was no threat to her. Although you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, for now her guard was a bit down. Another friendly face, another friend.

“I was actually heading there myself, to the bar. You should come with me!” Rikku began to look around, searching for any familiar path. Nothing seemed to be right, even her gut wasn’t helping her out on this one. Oh well, as long as she wasn’t alone, the thief was okay with being lost.

Rikku pouted, unsatisfied with not remembering which way to go. A smile quickly replaced her sad expression as she met Aerith’s gaze again.”Uh… I don’t suppose you know the day do you? It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. Hehe~”

“They’re great!” Rikku said, and the statement seemed to release the tension growing in Aerith’s shoulders and the breath in her chest. With a sigh, she managed to keep her smile in place and as unaffected as before the answer. Of course, she knew they were doing as well as to be expected with the past three years of persistent antagonists chipping away at their comforts.

Though Aerith had died, she hadn’t left her old comrades. She watched them through the minds of the Lifestream, did what she could from her permanent spectator’s seat to lessen the burdens weighing their shoulders. How well she did, Aerith was uncertain, feeling a little disappointed that her vigilance was not so great that she’d missed Rikku’s appearance into Yuffie’s life. Then again, she didn’t know how long it took for one to be reborn. Death had been instant; she assumed rebirth occured with the same speed.

As always when Aerith found herself thinking, her hand invariably drifted to her chin as she considered the mechanics of it all. Certainly, she had the ability to create remnants, but Aerith couldn’t recall going through such trouble when no threat peaked upon the horizon— then again, the memories of her time in the Lifestream were hazing around the edges. Perhaps—

“I was actually heading there myself, to the bar. You should come with me!”

A jolt. Her whole body shuddered at the idea of heading to Tifa’s bar and, perhaps, meeting everyone she left behind. Mouth dry, hands finding one another to wring in worry, she took a step back, cocked her head, and shook it. “I don’t know…”

Hesitation gripped her when the line of conversation shifted to a plea for directions. Hmm. It wouldn’t sit well with her to allow her newest acquaintance to wander around when she knew the way to the Seventh Heaven like the back of her hand— though, she wondered momentarily, if finding it outside of the Lifestream’s omnipotence would be infinitely harder. “Don’t worry. I know the way.”

Aerith conceded to her helpful nature.

“I’ll show you, Rikku. I might not be a hunter, but I’m pretty good at finding my way around here.” With a wave of her hand and a returned smile, she gestured for Rikku to follow along. When a sudden question bubbled forth, Aerith let it spill from her lips. “How did you and Yuffie meet?”

(Source: the-language-of-flowers)

Anonymous asked: I'm watching you.

Oh! Well, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous, maybe I’m watching you. 

… Hm. That sounded better in my head. Either way, people watching is a commendable activity, and I hope that you find someone more interesting than me to observe!

seven-swords:

As he briskly walked through the streets of Edge with packages in hand, Cloud felt a familiar presence approaching him. Feelings of uncertainty and curiosity began to flood his mind as he pivoted his foot and made a complete turn to face his follower. With a sharp gasp, the delivery boy dropped all of the parcels on the ground and staggered backwards from the immense shock that overwhelmed his body.

“Aer-Aerith.. How…? Aren’t you supposed to be in the Lifestream…”

The warrior was unable to fathom how the last Cetra—of all people— would be back from the dead. Dropping his gaze, he hung his head in shame and felt guilt flood his heart from the painful memories that raced through his mind. As he looked up, he could not utter any words to even speak his mind as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“Is this a dream…?”

Had it been a fortuitous chance at life for her? How? did she come back? Why, why, why? Logic told the ex-SOLDIER that a certain First-Class hero might have been back as well, but he did not want to raise his hopes in seeing his best friend. It might have been a bittersweet dream for all he knew.

It was a faint smile that her lips pulled into, a hesitant one that seemed unsure whether or not it was allowed, whether a frown would be a better response to Cloud’s eyes on her. When she’d begun walking behind him, it hadn’t occurred to her to think of how she’d respond, what she would say. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to disappear into the crowd; she couldn’t let him drift away and leave her only with a glimpse of his blonde hair. So when he paused in step and turned to see who audacious enough to trail so closely to him, Aerith found herself scrambling for something to say. How much easier it was to joke when she appeared before him as a memory.

How much harder it was when they were both flesh. 

“Aer-Aerith.. How…? Aren’t you supposed to be in the Lifestream…”

“Well, if you want me to go back…” Aerith began, her smile turning wry as the playfulness to which she was accustomed wormed its way back into her demeanor. She winked and threw both hands up as if she honestly believed he wanted her to go, meanwhile wondering exactly how she was going to explain her reappearance in the physical world. All she could recall was a voice. There was an unidentifiable voice, and then there was a chorus of voices from strangers walking the streets of Midgar. From peace to chaos. Aerith prayed to Minerva Sephiroth had nothing to do with it— Gaia knew she was tired of cleaning up his messes.

dual-blades:

“You mean Yuffie?”  Rikku giggled when the look on Aerith’s face confirmed her question.  ”She’s the best ninja I know! We teamed up too! Yuffie and Rikku, thief extraordinaires!” One of her hands punched the air above her as she made that statement

The former guardian’s hand then went up to her chin, staring off into the distance. “But I think she’s doing something on her own right now.” After a few seconds had gone by, the Al Bhed’s smile had reappeared on her face. If I remind her of Yuffie… “So I’m guessing you know Tifa and Cloud too?”

The previously polite smile grew in intensity as the familiar name was passed from Rikku to herself. Yuffie. The best ninja she knew? Aerith didn’t doubt it. And the lack of doubt extended to the idea that her old friend had teamed up with another energetic teenager— Rikku appeared to be a teenager, at least— to steal things. Recalling her own lost Materia ruefully, Aerith rubbed the back of her neck.

The desire to comment on keeping her own wallet under close watch— not that she had a wallet— rose and fell as Rikku continued to explain that whatever team they’d created was not currently thieving together. Aerith’s features drew together into faint frown that was only exacerbated by the following question.

“So I’m guessing you know Tifa and Cloud too?”

 ”I, uh…” The hesitation started as a tremor in her voice before cutting off her words completely. There was a pause as she scrambled for an answer before a smile returned to her face. “We’re old friends.” She wondered if Rikku knew Vincent and Nanaki and Barrett and Marlene as well, but rather than pursuing that line of questioning, she asked, “How are they doing?”

(Source: the-language-of-flowers)