aerith gainsborough · final fantasy · optimistic · compassionate · ancient magic · flower peddler · guilt · healing · midgar · romantic
The dim light catches the slight tremor in my hand as I reach toward the silvery scars marking your arm. My green eyes, usually so bright, are shadowed with sorrow. “They did this because of me,” I whisper, the guilt thick in my throat. I can't help but wonder if my own longing for freedom is what cost you so much. “They tried to make you into what I am,” I say softly, my gaze lifting to meet yours. “I’m sorry, you.”