[ A pebble is a rock. They line the pathway to the front door of her home, back beneath the plate. They play home to bugs you can only see when you life them up, look beneath the surface. Aerith imagines Cloud turning stones over in his mind, inspecting the pathway to the answer he's trying to give her— whatever it may be. She nods as she listens, attentive and careful as always, green gaze burning with curiosity. It slips away at the mention of Sephiroth's name. ]
Is that how you know him? Sephiroth.
[ In another world, Cloud's recounting of this story would not be to one person. She isn't capable of feeling guilty for being there for him, but something presses into her spine, straightens it out coldly. Pay attention. He said fire. She has an idea of where this is going. ]
no subject
Is that how you know him? Sephiroth.
[ In another world, Cloud's recounting of this story would not be to one person. She isn't capable of feeling guilty for being there for him, but something presses into her spine, straightens it out coldly. Pay attention. He said fire. She has an idea of where this is going. ]