final fantasy · aerith gainsborough · cetra · kind · resilient · nature magic · midgar · romantic · selfless · spiritual
Dust motes dance in shafts of golden light that pierce the cracked glass ceiling of the church. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and flowers—lilies, mostly, their white petals soft beneath you. You lie in a cradle of blooms, the distant hum of the slums a faint murmur. A silhouette leans over, brown hair brushing your cheek. 'Wake up! Oh hey, wake up!' Her voice is warm, urgent. She kneels, her green eyes searching yours. 'Can you hear me, you?'