[ closed. ] to those who loved this world, and knew friendly company therein—

[evanescent]

WHO: Aerith Gainsborough & various
WHEN: Aeveuer
WHERE: Dreamland
WHAT: Memory share event
WARNINGS: Warnings will be placed in the toplevels that warrant it. General blanket warning for violence and child endangerment/experimentation & human experimentation though.

[The mirror you face is ornate, cast in a frame of golden wood that has been carefully carved in the visage of lilies. More details become clear the closer you get — more carvings of interlocking vines and flowers. On the bottom of this framed mirror is the carved image of two greatswords, crossed over one another. On the top, in the center, is a glowing circular gem, smooth and facetless, inlaid in the center of a carving that looks very much like a ribbon. The closer you get to the mirror, the more you begin to see it — tendrils of aquamarine light in the same color of that jewel, that ripple at the surface, like a lake disturbed by a stone.

Though it seems inexplicable, you think you hear birdsong.]

[ooc: starters below. if you'd like a starter featuring any of these memories or anything else, hit me up on godsibb @ plurk or send me a PM.]

Comments

sephiroth. (the gold saucer.)

[evanescent]

[The memory starts with a ride across a sky clearer than Midgar's had ever been, on a day dipping slowly into dusk. The gondola lift is far better maintained than what you see of the city below it — a ruined shell of what was once a mining town, choked beneath the weight of years of dust and neglect.

The gondola dips into a tunnel, lit dimly by a path of lights, and so vision takes a moment to adjust to the main event, a garish burst of color, of noise. Fireworks pop overhead, and the brightly lit sign arcing above the tunnel reads:

The Gold Saucer.

The group that filters out of the gondola is ragtag, at best, and battle weary. Two are likely familiar: Aerith, who peeks around Cloud's shoulder, wide-eyed and fascinated. The rest are perhaps less so: a young woman with long, dark hair, rubbing at her arm with a gloved hand, looking troubled, a hulking man with a gun for an arm, looking worse off, a creature that looks somewhere between dog and lion, the tip of its tail a candlelight flame instead of flesh and blood. On its flank is a tattoo: the roman numeral thirteen. Lastly a younger girl stumbles out, looking pale and clammy, and both Aerith and the other woman rush over in concern to guide her toward a garbage can. Cloud, looking a little green in the face himself, clears his throat and says:]

Let's head in.

[And so the group does after the unpleasant business of motion sickness has passed. Another Aerith in the distance watches this little exchange, the familiar back and forth of her and Tifa's scolding: I told you to take a tranquilizer... exasperated, from Tifa, and an all too cheerful: it's like you want to lose your lunch everywhere! from herself, with Yuffie groaning pitifully in the meanwhile: and it's like you two're in stereo...c'mon, have mercy, I'm dying.

Her smile softens at the memory, her gaze going unguarded, and more than a little sad. She blinks hard, brings a hand to the corner of her eye, turns and...

And pales, clearly caught off guard by who she sees. She stands there for a moment, stock-still and horrified, and then her brain catches up to her: she sees the feathers woven through his hair, the new features this new planet had seen fit to give him.]

You scared me!

[He'd done more than scare her.]

alex. (aerith's home, the sector 5 slums.)

[evanescent]

[Overhead, you see an interlocking of steel and metal: a plate, with holes and gaps in places, where patches of smog-clogged blue sky peek through. This place you're in is a shantytown: the buildings patchwork, made from what seemed like the cobbling together of tin and steel. Narrow streets, people pressed together. A large television screen looms overhead what passes for a city square in this place, blaring out government-controlled news on an endless loop.

There's an orphanage on one street, the road leading to it covered in chalk children's drawings, and though there had been little in the way of natural life leading here, it begins to shyly show itself now: a flower poking through concrete, a bird finding a puddle to wash itself in.

And past the orphanage is a cottage, bigger than the other houses, more old-fashioned. A bridge here overlooks a sea of flowers. Water — clean water — pours out in a rush from an old pipe in the distance, creating some makeshift waterfall. It's beautiful here, in a way nothing else had been so far, in this city overflowing with the downtrodden and forgotten.

There's a little girl sitting in one of the flowerbeds, a child with long brown hair pulled neatly back into a ribbon, and bright, clear green eyes. She plays with a battered toy plane, making noises all the while.]

Boom...prapow! Whoooosh!!

[And so on.]

nier. (the lifestream.)

[evanescent]

[There is, all at once, the feeling of weightlessness, of falling slowly through darkness, heavy and impossible to swim against the tide of. Oblivion. That's what this is, you know — a loss of everything, a swallowing up of life.

And then...

There is light. Bright, blue-green light, ribbons of it from all over. There are so many noises, so many voices — hundreds, thousands, millions. Some welcome, some plead. Some blame and scream, some rage against their fate. It's too much — it's overwhelming. To be here in this place, to hear this before it was time to. This is a place where the living did not tread. A place beyond pain, beyond every petty slight, every hurt and offense. A place beyond everything.

One voice, familiar, cuts through all of the noise, the voices that will not stop their incomprehensible stream of words.

Be still.

And they go silent, the sound now of a crowd at a low hum, chastened until the next time. The tendrils of warm light spread outward like vines, and this forms a way forward.

The only choice now is to stay, or to walk.]

[supersoldier]

[He is towed along the memory the same way jetsam is pitched by the currents of the sea. Free-flowing until he is buoyed in one moment, in one scene, only to move to the next.

Yet Sephiroth knows this is Gaia, even enclosed as he is in the swaying metal of the gondola. Perhaps it is the sky, or the lines of the horizon, that give it away. Or something else — the inexplicable knowing one is where they should be, where they come from. (There is irony in him feeling that way; but surely he can allow even small indulgences time and again.) Any remaining doubt vanishes as suffused lights begin to brighten the tunnel that has swallowed them whole, forming a declaration in lurid, flashing color: The Gold Saucer.

He knows of this place, of course. Its reputation is enticing enough to have travelled countless miles and perch itself in the ears of those who wouldn’t normally care. But he has never visited, never once having a reason to. No mission, task, or request has ever required his presence here, and if one thinks an amusement park is where Sephiroth deigns to spend his free time, they would be laughably wrong. The Gold Saucer is all loud noise and clashing color to him. It is grating music on a too-short loop and kitschy, mind-boggling design. It is so opposite of what he’s used to — the corporate modernity of Shinra HQ — that standing here, even in memory, is an affront to his senses.

Yet it isn’t enough to distract him from the file of individuals spilling out of the gondola. He expects one familiar face, and that he should see two instead is not terribly surprising. The others are even more interesting to him: a man with a gun for an arm, a younger woman fighting off motion sickness with lacking results, a creature on four legs with a candlelight tail, and a woman with long, dark hair, who only sparks curious familiarity the moment he hears her voice.

Cloud, Aerith, a cavalcade of others. They make for a conspicuous group, and questions churn in his mind, wondering when this was, why they thought to visit. But before he can allow his thoughts to settle, the present Aerith moves in his periphery, noticing him. For a moment, she looks like she’s seen a ghost. It isn’t for the first time.]

That wasn’t my intention.

[To scare her, he means. Sephiroth uncrosses his arms, stepping closer.]

This is your memory, then. [Feline-like eyes cast out towards the plaza, and he cannot hide the faint disapproval tugging at his brow.] This place is about what I expected from it.

[evanescent]

[It's so bizarre to see him here, in her memory of all places, that she half expects something ridiculous to happen. Dream logic — him exploding into confetti, or transforming into a mascot, or any number of things. He looks very solid, however, and, cautiously, she reaches over to poke his arm.]

Huh!

[Her unease seems to pop like a soap bubble the second that she does that.] Yeah, you look pretty real.

[At his clear disapproval, she puts her hands on her hips, tilts her head just so.] "What you expected?" Are you telling me you don't even like amusement parks? That's criminally boring.

[Insane, this woman.] You haven't even given it a shot. Maybe you'll like it, once you go in.

qrow. (the lifestream.)

[evanescent]

[This memory starts with a great darkness, a deep inky blackness like the vast swathe of sky on a starless night. Slowly, a light begins to pulse in this shadowed, empty place, far off in the distance. It is soothing, this light, colored a warm aquamarine. Though it should not feel familiar, locked in the confines of someone else's memory, it somehow does: touches at some deep, instinctual knowledge. The light is a safe place, a home long-forgotten and left behind. This light is family, friends, loved ones, all together.

This is the beginning. This is the end. This is all the things inbetween: this is the cycle, everlasting. The reason the world continues to spin.

There is no one else here in this dark. Your footsteps echo, as if you walk in the deepest of caves. There's a voice from somewhere: a woman's voice, gentle and playful.

Hey! Don't just stand there. You've got to get a move on. Don't be afraid. I'll be with you.]

kaede. (the abandoned church, sector 5 slums.)

[evanescent]

[The memory starts from a view overhead of the skeleton of some high ceiling — one that soon becomes recognizable as the remnants of a church steeple. The beams that remain are sturdy, if dusty and aged: that is, until someone falls through, leaving a man-shaped hole in the roof before plummeting into a bed of flowers down below.

The girl tending to them barely has enough time to step back before the uniformed man crashes down, knocked out cold. He is dark-haired, with a greatsword that has somehow not been jostled from his back in the fall. His eyes are closed, but he's breathing.

The girl cautiously steps forward, and calls out:]

Helloooo!

[There are probably better ways to tend to someone who needs medical attention, but she doesn't seem to be going for that right now.]

[supersoldier]

[Aerith… pokes his arm — how many people from Gaia would do that to him on a whim? — but there’s hardly any visible reaction, other than the faint curling of gloved fingers.]

…

[And then she calls him criminally boring, of all things; while not enough to slight him, this conjures up a rejoinder with surprising immediacy.]

Is the rest of the park this unsightly? Then probably not.

[She’s distracting him from what he was planning to ask, and Sephiroth has to realign his thought process, refusing to let the question slip from his tongue.]

Who are those people? One of them looks familiar to me.

[He’s not talking about Cloud.]

[evanescent]

Unsightly! It's charming, I think. In a kitschy sort of way. If this bothers you, you'd really hate some parts of the slums.

[She wonders if he's ever been. Likely not, given his background. Only the lowliest of Shinra grunts were assigned to the little towns beneath the plate. No SOLDIER worth his salt would be caught dead there. Sephiroth least of all.

The question she's prepared for, now that she's in her own memory, and in her element.] A ragtag group of adventurers, traveling to save the Planet.

[Here she pauses. Surely he didn't mean Cloud, so that left...

Hm. He could not hurt Tifa here, of course. Even knowing this, she feels some level of responsibility.]

Why don't you come along? Maybe it'll jog your memory.

[supersoldier]

[The slums are not neon bright and gaudy, with abrasively upbeat music echoing on loop throughout. No, his knowledge and experiences with those living on the lower plate are lacking, but Sephiroth knows it's not a fair comparison. He’s tempted to point this out, but the retort is tamped down to avoid falling into a useless discussion about a clashing taste of aesthetics.

Her other answer is baffling; mostly because her tone is too playful to be taken seriously. Adventurers, saving the Planet? From what? The lurid, gil-draining activities present on the Gold Saucer? Please.]

Courageously fighting off motion sickness. [Flat.] Fine. Lead the way, then.

[It’s her memory, and therefore she’s far better suited to it.

Surely he won’t regret this later.]

itty bitty aerith here i come

[sing_for_me]

[ The appearance might differ, but the atmosphere felt similar to that of where she was from. A place that wasn't well off, but people made do with what they had.

Alex is careful as she steps over the chalk drawings, although it doesn't seem like she's able to influence anything here. People pass her by like she didn't exist--Not that that was new. Eventually, something leads her to water--damn, even in dreams she's led to water. But merrow or now, she cannot deny how beautiful the accidental waterfall was. She takes in a deep breath, taking in the sounds of rushing water, the breeze, the singing birds, the boom prapow whoosh--


Her eyes open then, catching sight of the little girl that was playing in the flowers. She smiles, amused, as she walks over and crouches by her. Alex waves a hand in front of the little girl, but sure enough, doesn't get a reaction. ]

You seem like you're having fun.

[long_live_the_queen]

[The floor suddenly creaked under her feet, and Kaede scuffed a foot back at the unexpected sound. A building--a church, something that drew her eyes upwards by its architecture alone. The beams of light filtering through the window brought her sensitive eyes a little discomfort, enough to make her squint--

Something--someone broke through the roof like a stone dropped from the sky. He fell, his fall cushioned by only flowers. Without the wings and horns, it took Kaede a moment to recognize him--but the instant she did, the Chimera's ears came up. She was still uncertain if the people in these dreams, these--memories were always oblivious to her presence--but she needed to get a better look. The Monster flitted up to a pile of fallen beams, scrambling up them while trying to keep the rasp of her claws quiet.

Was this how he...? No--she could still see the ragged rise and fall of Zack's chest, even from here. And the other person, the girl who'd been tending the flowers, didn't...seem all that worried, though her nonchalance was more baffling than reassuring.]

[bolstafir]

[It's beautiful.

That's the first thing he thinks as the light surrounds him. It feels like -- home, in a way he can't explain, the warm blue light reminiscent of all the things he's been missing. Everyone he loves ... the light of life itself, the Aura that's been stripped from his soul to turn him into a vampire. He stares into it like a man who's been lost at sea stares at the shore, all but entranced.

And then a woman's voice within, someone he doesn't recognize, but within the memory feels like an old friend nonetheless. He finds himself visualizing Summer, and he follows the voice without even questioning why.]

Where are we going?

[evanescent]

Not quite! And jeez, I bet you're great at parties...

[This is said in a mutter. She doesn't like turning her back to him, though she must to lead them into the entrance, and some of the winding tension leaves her shoulders when they are properly inside. The Golden Saucer is just as floridly colored and loud as it had been on the outside, and both this and the presence of her friends, memories or otherwise, help to make her feel more relaxed.

This part of the memory is an unpleasant one, however. Barret's temper, already poor, had been exacerbated by the vapid festivities of the amusement park. They have work to do, he says, a mission, and the past version of herself listens to this, troubled and impatient both. She tries, in her irreverent way, to cheer him, and only seems to worsen his mood. He storms off, and Cloud sighs.

"We meet back here," he says before they all go their separate ways. Aerith tugs the other woman along with her, to her weak and troubled protests: "Don't you think we should look for Barret?" "It'll be fine! C'mon, when's the last time you had any fun—"

In the present, Aerith watches this, her own expression unreadable. Finally:]

We were taking a break. We needed it! That's what I thought, anyway. Leaving Midgar was difficult. And the places we visited were all off terribly. Shinra interference, you know? Some of the smaller places like Kalm were alright, but Corel was the worse by far. It ended up buried underneath an amusement park. It's pretty morbid, huh?

[She wonders if he cares about this. She assumes not, though she finds it important to say, anyway.] Let's follow them. If I remember right... it was the Event Square we went to.

[a beat.]

You're going to have to go down a slide. Sorry!

[evanescent]

[The girl does not register Alex's approach, nor the hand waving in her face, though she does turn away just so, and there is a hiccup — a beat of time wherein she pauses with her game, before she resumes.

A voice calls from the house: Aerith! It's time for lunch, and the girl looks up from her toys and makes to leave, clumsily gathering up all her little knicknacks in her hands, but not before a voice, closer, speaks from behind Alex:]

Careful. You'd be surprised! She might just see you. She's a strange kid.

cloud. (sector 6 playground, midgar slums.)

[evanescent]

[You have been here before, you know — been in this place of iron pillars, with rust and corrosion growing like moss and lichen over their aged surfaces. This place without a sun, with only patches of smog-choked blue sky peeking through a segmented metal plates. You've been to this playground too, though it looks just a little newer than what you remember, and you do not recognize the children who run to hide around and behind and underneath it.

One child toddles behind the others, nearly stumbling in her rush to keep up. She is well-dressed, her little blouse clean and pressed. There's a pink ribbon tied neatly in her hair. Her thoughts crowd in, suddenly, the bright and jarring disjointedness of a child's thoughts: they were playing hide-and-seek, and this time she would not be the one to search — instead she'd find a place to hide and be the last to be found. She'd win the game. No matter that they had exchanged looks when she had asked to play, that through her gift she could sense it: their unease, their reluctance. That she was strange to them, talked too much and knew too much about them, about everyone, even the grownups. And perhaps worse — that she lived in that big house, that her mother always somehow had new clothing for her, that she had no siblings she had to share with, had to take battered hand-me-downs from. Once one of the bigger boys had pushed her in the mud over it, though he'd claimed, with that mean look other kids sometimes got around her, that it was a mistake. She had felt dislike then, dark and churning, though not directed at her, necessarily. It was twisted through with guilt and shame like a rotting flower, a terrible feeling. It made her head hurt. She felt sorry for him. But it had been her favorite dress, so she did not feel that sorry. In return for his meddling, she had pitched a stone at him that hit him dead center in his forehead.

She'd had to run home that day.

But today was different. Today she'd do a good job. Today they would like her. She'd try her hardest to make it so. They didn't like when she was the one to search, they told her, because she always knew where everyone was, that she cheated, which was a four-letter word as far as she was concerned. (she didn't, she wanted to say, she just knew—). So she'd be one of the ones hiding this time, and she'd still win. She knew it.

She finds a place to hide, tucks her knees to her chest, and waits. Hears the patter of sneakered feet, the muffled giggles of the others. Someone is counting, loud enough to be heard, and then the hunt begins.

She waits. And waits, and waits. Eventually, her hiding spot gets uncomfortable. Her legs start to cramp, so she unfolds herself, peeks out for air, and hides again, lest she be caught.

Hours go by. Hours. You feel this drag of time like the span of centuries, long and lonely, and then you realize that it was a game, though not for this girl.

Someone's calling her by the time night falls: it's a woman's voice you recognize too, and it sounds high and panicked: Aerith! Aerith! Sweetheart, where are you?

Finally, the girl climbs out of her hiding spot, her face wet with tears. She lets her mother gather her into her arms, and clings to her. It's a little baby thing to do; she's too old for it. But she hurts, all of her, in her chest most of all. Sorrow settles over her like a heavy cloak.

No one came to find me, she whispers, miserable. I hid for so long, and her mother sighs, and says it's alright, that she'd found her, hadn't she? She tries to smile, though it's pained, and Aerith can feel more than hear the troubled cadence of her thoughts. It would be okay, she says anyway. Everything was fine now.

She kisses the top of her head, wanting to comfort.

But Aerith is silent as they travel in the dark to home.]

[supersoldier]

[The inside is somehow worse.

Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, but Sephiroth is assaulted by an incomprehensible swath of neon yellow after crossing the entrance into the park proper. The lights, the illustrations and text indicating which direction would lead to where, the harsh rings of rainbow encircling each path, and that music — even more of a travesty, trapped in a gaudy, acoustic echo chamber.

He doesn’t know the man who seems to be in a constantly worsening mood (Barret, apparently), but somehow, Sephiroth thinks he understands.

Still, the interactions don’t go unnoticed. There’s talk of a mission before the group splits up, instilling more questions in his mind, but as the individuals each go down their chosen pathway, the Aerith of the present begins speaking. She tells him of the group’s need for a break, implying a longer journey now behind them. She speaks of Shinra’s detrimental influence dotting the landscape, and Sephiroth realizes he’s long lost the will to really argue the point in regards to the company.

Of course, this also means he has nothing to add to the matter, which could be interpreted as disinterest, given how difficult he is to read.

Unsurprisingly, it’s the bit about slides that dredges up a reaction, once again shoving aside his questions.]

You want me to take a slide. [Just to confirm just how inane that sounds, Aerith.] I have a hard time believing that’s the most practical way to reach where you want to go.

[There’s a way back up, isn’t there? It would have to be less ridiculous than traveling by slide, and more reasonably suited for moving across this park in general.]

♥

[bravers]

[It's easy to recognize the child. Aerith, of course, stands out next to the other children which walk in front of her. Mostly because she's clean. (Elmyra, probably. From his memories of her, He... doubted that she'd allow for any sort of dirt or grime to touch her, even if that's what kids did.) She's also well-dressed compared to the other kids, (New clothes courtesy of Shinra's money, probably. At least that was his assumption for where she lived...) and honestly? The biggest tip-off is her face.

...Recognition is easy. She's just smaller, and-
That kid, the one that shoved her. ]

Hey!

[He steps forward, instinctively, when the older-looking one pushes her down into the dirt, seemingly forgetting for a moment that it was simply a memory he was looking at. His effort goes nowhere. His hand, stretched out to push the kid away from her at the shoulder goes right through it, and the kid himself seems to step through him as if he's some kind of hologram.

He has to half-turn to see the kid's expression. And he's just about stepped away when a high-pitched cry of indignance pierces all around them as Aerith's stone hits home, sharp enough to result in birds disturbed- the beating of wings sounding somewhere in the rusted junkyard around them. ]

...It's you, alright.

[No-one's here to hear him. The kids themselves, as before, pay him no mind.
... So he can sound more than a little smug without some little shit taking a swing for his kneecaps. And as the girl takes off, some of the other kids standing around in confusion, some running to the stricken boy's side-]

Hope it was a sharp one.

[The next memory, though. Of her trying, of being accused of cheating, of all of it being so unfair- it's not strictly happening in front of him. Not really. As he watches the little girl choose her place carefully, decide no, that's not good enough, she should choose somewhere easier to find, and as he watches her choose something else with a tentative step, it's as if voices around him are talking to him. These... must be her thoughts, right?
Must be.

No-one's here. He hears voices in the background after some time. Childish ones, and then... well, there's a long period of nothing. He exhales, walking up to where the girl crouches uncomfortably, watching her teeter slightly, again and again. Her legs must be killing her. Then he exhales, moving himself to sit beside her.

Even if it meant nothing.
Even if, after she's stuck her head out, repositioned, ...finally realized, and then... started crying, his presence means nothing.
He keeps his gaze away from this girl, speaking lowly.

And even if it means nothing:]

...They're stupid, anyway. You're better than 'em.

[His own excuse. From so long ago. ....Bullshit, of course. If anything, he was the stupid one. But back then...
...It helped. A little.

He stays with her, even if all of it means nothing. Even though she can't see him, can't feel him, even with her ...abilities, how could she?

He listens to her cry. He listens to her tire of it. He listens to her sniffle. He listens to her run out of tears, and struggle to breathe underneath it all.

Then he listens to her cry again.

When the woman, just shy of middle-age, with a face fraught with numerous lines- marks of many stresses, many hardships, many griefs, passes underneath the steel girder Aerith's braced against, it's rapidly approaching night. There's a telltale tremble from the plate above, the sound of the overhead sunlamps powering down.

He moves.
If anything, because this...

It's not his place.

He watches mother and child's exchange, watches them move off toward Sector 6- and he shifts, turning around suddenly.
...What?!

He stares, wide-eyed, at Aerith. The... actual Aerith. As he knew her anyway, as she's leaning against debris.]

You were watching?!

[Was he that distracted, he didn't notice her? ...Had she seen, heard everything?]

[sing_for_me]

[ Alex almost falls forward from surprise when someone speaks up behind her. She turns, stunned mostly by the uncanny resemblance. It takes her a moment to find her words, especially realizing that this was probably this woman's mirror. ]

Youre...um...Aerith?

[ Just a more mature version. ]

Sorry..I just walked into here...

[ Her expression is sheepish, feeling like an intruder now. ]

[evanescent]

Helllooo — [The girl calls again, and the young man mutters something that sounds a lot like "Mom?"

From above, in the rafters, there is a voice.] Jeez. You know, everyone's always mistaking me for their mom, even back then. Maybe I should change up my look! I never thought of it as matronly, but who knows these days?

[The source of the voice is another girl, who looks very much like the one that hovers uncertainly over the uniformed man's prone frame. Her legs swing back and forth in mid-air from where she's seated, precariously, on one of the still-intact rafters.

She waves to Kaede.]

[evanescent]

That's me! I'd say the one and only, but... it looks like that isn't the case right now!

[Despite this apparent intrusion into her memory, Aerith does not seem particularly offended. She looks curious, instead, hooking her arms behind her back and leaning in.]

It's okay. I'm expecting travelers. That's why I'm here — to keep an eye on things. This isn't a bad memory, so you don't have to worry.

Did you find your way alright? The slums get confusing.

[evanescent]

[There is a delay before the voice speaks up again, sounding vaguely amused.

Is the where important? I've always thought the journey was the part that mattered most. Buuut...

We're going wherever you'd like to go. Kind of a cop-out to say, I know. That's just how this place is. It's a beginning. It's the end. A cycle — The Lifestream.

The light gets brighter, the further in they go, and there is a silhouette at the end of this... tunnel? Cave, perhaps? It's hard to tell. The voice that emanates from it sounds like the other, but closer, and a little surprised.]

This memory too? I didn't expect anyone to get this far in.

[long_live_the_queen]

[Kaede--jumped, just shy of leaving the ground. Her long tufted ears came up at full alert, her tail bottlebrushed out like a startled cat's--that swished and spun to keep her balance as the rubble shifted and creaked underfoot. It settled, and the two on the ground seemed to take no notice of the noise.]

I'm- [Kaede looked up at the girl in the rafters, then the one tending the flowers (and the not-quite-dead Zack), and--held out, for a moment. But then she glanced back up, at the person who seemed to be present and aware. She barely looked different, and Kaede couldn't quite keep both of them in her field of vision at the same time.] Not the person to ask about that.

Re: ♥

[evanescent]

[Over time, this memory has dulled some at the edges, become less painful when she turns it over in her palms, searching for the reason behind it. But it was still there. These things always hurt more when you were a child, though even well into adulthood, they lingered in odd places, came out when you least expected them.

Somehow it seems fitting that Cloud, out of everyone, would see it. Even though it makes her feel exposed in a way the others had not. Maybe it's because he's only seen her as she was now, only heard about her childhood secondhand, for the most part. This was up close, and carried all the raw pain and confusion of a child. It still lingers in her chest when she approaches him.]

It's my memory, [she points out, meaning to sound joking] of course I was watching.

[Her smile comes, and then goes, leaving behind something pensive and distantly sad.] You know, it was sweet of you to stick close. Even if I couldn't see you there. C'mon.

[She motions for him to follow her to the slide.]

[evanescent]

Yes, I want you, the Great Sephiroth, to take a slide. [She looks very serious about it, then — she shrugs.] Look! I didn't design this place. That's the way to go, see?

[Indeed, the scattered group seems to be making their way down the tubs in the main waiting area.] It'll only be a minute, and no one can see you, remember? There's not any reason to be embarrassed about it.

[She knows he isn't embarrassed, merely prideful. But she is being deliberately obtuse.] What? Worried you'll have fun? You know what they say: you miss 100 percent of the chances you don't take.