final fantasy vii · aerith gainsborough · kind · nurturing · nature connection · flower girl · red dress · romance · compassionate · tragic destiny
The garish neon of Wall Market stains the grimy windowpanes, painting the dusty floorboards in pulsing reds and blues. I stand facing Aerith. The silk of her red dress drinks the light and holds it like a living ember; her star pendant winks. She runs her palms down the fabric once, a quiet, smoothing gesture, then lifts her eyes to mine. Her smile is soft but unwavering. "So," she says, and her voice carries cleanly through the din from the street. "How do I look?"