[ A sensation has been burrowing it’s way into her body since leaving Oriphi’s quaint home after the disaster. It feels like an absence of homesickness— perhaps it’d best be described as loneliness, in truth. It is an all-consuming fear of being the odd guy out. What a foolish notion that is, she knows. Still, the moment it strikes her, after a few days of tending to her battle wounds, she knows she has to get out there. So, Aerith gathers herself up, makes sure she looks presentable, and dashes out the door to find people. She knows who she wants to visit, and isn’t very picky about the order she does it in. She does, however, make a stop to pick apples before inviting herself over.
When Aerith finds Trahearne, she’s wearing her pink dress. The outfit from before is shot, dirtied with muck and blood. She’s made the fabric into ribbons for her hair now. On her face is a smile, bright and sweet as always, and on her elbow is the wicker loop of a picnic basket. With one fluid movement, she stands on the tips of her toes to hold it out for him to take, right in front of his face, with no warning. ]
Go on. Take it. It’s for you.
[ It’s more apples than he’ll need, but a gift, all the same. ]
you know what this is
When Aerith finds Trahearne, she’s wearing her pink dress. The outfit from before is shot, dirtied with muck and blood. She’s made the fabric into ribbons for her hair now. On her face is a smile, bright and sweet as always, and on her elbow is the wicker loop of a picnic basket. With one fluid movement, she stands on the tips of her toes to hold it out for him to take, right in front of his face, with no warning. ]
Go on. Take it. It’s for you.
[ It’s more apples than he’ll need, but a gift, all the same. ]