[ When the cat dashes away from her, it leaves torn skin it's wake, a stretch of shredded fabric over the top of her dress. The puncture wounds are revealed to be red, irritated already. Blood falls from them down her chest in small rivulets, bright red and staining. ]
Shit. [ Her fingertips come away marred with blood when she presses them to the cuts, but Sha-Ming's voice cuts deeper when he urges her to go with him. Is that an invitation? There's a hint of surprise, brightly lit, in her eyes when she raises them to look at him. It sounds like it— but she's not so sure he means it in any way other than because she's in too deep.
Wordlessly, she takes off after the cat, following the crunch of nature beneath it's toepads as it makes its grand escape. She tries not to think about a memory that was planted in her mind as she does, but it washes her out, makes her mood sing for a moment. It's almost like playing, as if they're both children getting into mischief. ]
This way! There should be a little grove past the bushes. Maybe it's looking for the clearing...
[ it takes him back to better days -- days that never existed. and yet the memories are fresh in his mind, flowers ready to be plucked. there's the faint laughter of children in the foreground, secrets passed through the shadows.
he's quicker than he looks; he slips in and out of sight, until they find the cat striding past an open patch of grass. its tail swishes back and forth, as if testing them. ]
Let's split up. You lure it in, I'll catch it. Got it?
[ and he's gone before she can respond -- in a voice, hushed and quiet: ]
[ "Quicker than he looks" is a measurement that seems impossible, but it's certainly true. Aerith ends up lagging behind, and complaining softly for it; for all she is a busybody in a garden, she's actually the opposite of athletic.
Already, he has an idea in place when she wanders up, heaving and hawing with sweat trailing down her body. Aerith raises an arm to wipe at her forehead as Sha-ming tells her his plan; in response, she freezes. ]
Sing? Me? [ She is not the woman she was before. That much is true. She feels it in the tingly way that she flushes, embarrassment suddenly hot on her skin. Before she can stop herself, she raises her head to look at him— a weakness unfolds inside of her immediately. It's true that Sha-ming is not her childhood friend, but she wishes so badly that he had been in that moment that she lets selfishness override everything. ]
If that's what you want. [ Nodding, she looks back to the cat. A nervousness ricochets inside her, making her hands quiver. Even so, she raises them, pressing one into a fist that comes to rest over her chest. Then, Aerith sings— belting out without a warm up, naturally. ]
no subject
Shit. [ Her fingertips come away marred with blood when she presses them to the cuts, but Sha-Ming's voice cuts deeper when he urges her to go with him. Is that an invitation? There's a hint of surprise, brightly lit, in her eyes when she raises them to look at him. It sounds like it— but she's not so sure he means it in any way other than because she's in too deep.
Wordlessly, she takes off after the cat, following the crunch of nature beneath it's toepads as it makes its grand escape. She tries not to think about a memory that was planted in her mind as she does, but it washes her out, makes her mood sing for a moment. It's almost like playing, as if they're both children getting into mischief. ]
This way! There should be a little grove past the bushes. Maybe it's looking for the clearing...
no subject
he's quicker than he looks; he slips in and out of sight, until they find the cat striding past an open patch of grass. its tail swishes back and forth, as if testing them. ]
Let's split up. You lure it in, I'll catch it. Got it?
[ and he's gone before she can respond -- in a voice, hushed and quiet: ]
...Try singing. It'll work.
[ it'd draw anyone in, after all. ]
no subject
Already, he has an idea in place when she wanders up, heaving and hawing with sweat trailing down her body. Aerith raises an arm to wipe at her forehead as Sha-ming tells her his plan; in response, she freezes. ]
Sing? Me? [ She is not the woman she was before. That much is true. She feels it in the tingly way that she flushes, embarrassment suddenly hot on her skin. Before she can stop herself, she raises her head to look at him— a weakness unfolds inside of her immediately. It's true that Sha-ming is not her childhood friend, but she wishes so badly that he had been in that moment that she lets selfishness override everything. ]
If that's what you want. [ Nodding, she looks back to the cat. A nervousness ricochets inside her, making her hands quiver. Even so, she raises them, pressing one into a fist that comes to rest over her chest. Then, Aerith sings— belting out without a warm up, naturally. ]