Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII and it's characters and plot and all the stuff I WISHED I owned. e__E I do own the right to extinguish anything saying that this is pure crap? Nyohoho. Evil am I! :D
Author's Note: Yeah, this is your typical fic about how Cloud feels when he puts Aerith to rest, but from his point of view and talking to her. It's sappier that way. ;_;
Aerith ... why did you have to...?
You were sitting there, slumped against the small wall of the circular platform we were all standing on. One second you were kneeled there in prayer, gazing up at me with your swirling emerald eyes and a content smile. In another, the sound of metal piercing flesh invaded my ears, and my feet were weighed to the ground as I watched Sephiroth drive his Masamune through your body. In less than a minute your wings had been clipped, and you fell forward like a sliding ornament on his blade. That's when he pulled it out, covered with a sheen of your blood.
I noticed something tumbling from your hair besides the pink ribbon that kept your braid tied -- that small blue-green orb, the White Materia. It clattered to the floor and began to bounce away, landing with a small splash in the water. That materia that your mother gave you that you had no use for. You could have used it for something, couldn't you? To summon Holy.
All of these regrets came rushing to my head as he smirked sadistically, casting a glance at the faces of our team. We were all hit by shock like a blow to the head with an anvil, and he disappeared in a diagonal blur. Tifa was the first one to actually break down and cry, standing by my side. Her gloved hands clamped my shoulder tight as she stared at you in total horror. Did you see her dashing forward and kneeling by you, placing a hand on your cold cheek? Even though I thought she'd considered you a rival, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Did you see me standing there with not a flash of Mako over my eyes, but instead a coat of tears?
The others soon followed, paying their silent respects to you. Tifa turned to me and tried to keep her chin up, despite the tears that were hanging off of its curve. Her face and the utter silence of the others told me that I had to do something to properly bury you.
As much as I didn't want to say goodbye, my feet struggled to carry me over to you, and I slowly knelt to slide my arms under your limp body. I picked you up and just looked at you for a minute, not caring that the crimson life-liquid from your wound was spilling down your side and onto my hands. I turned and made my slow descent down to the lowest platform and stepped into the shallow water that surrounded the lower part of the City of the Ancients.
Your hands had been clasped tightly while you were praying, and hadn't even moved when I set you down in the water. It was warm -- but to me, it was freezing. You seemed to just float there with my support before my trembling arms pulled away. Your body submerged first, and then your face. Our mock funeral's onlookers all gathered around as close as they could to see you disappear to the deep bottom, blanketed by darkness.
It was only then that I'd realized I had you. Just as quickly as I had taken a close liking to you, your fragile life had slipped out of my hands and you were sinking. When this is all over I'll come back to you and stay by your side forever -- even if I'm dead and have a similar burial. Will you see me standing there in grief, and feel the weight of the tears that dare to fall?
Even if I have to drown to see you again ... I will, Aerith Gainsborough.
Eeee. So sad. ;__; I tried to make it pretty, but did I? Arr. Reviews would let me know I'm not the only one who still grieves over Aerith after I've beat FFVII 4828589389438213834348 times.
Author's Note: Yeah, this is your typical fic about how Cloud feels when he puts Aerith to rest, but from his point of view and talking to her. It's sappier that way. ;_;
Aerith ... why did you have to...?
You were sitting there, slumped against the small wall of the circular platform we were all standing on. One second you were kneeled there in prayer, gazing up at me with your swirling emerald eyes and a content smile. In another, the sound of metal piercing flesh invaded my ears, and my feet were weighed to the ground as I watched Sephiroth drive his Masamune through your body. In less than a minute your wings had been clipped, and you fell forward like a sliding ornament on his blade. That's when he pulled it out, covered with a sheen of your blood.
I noticed something tumbling from your hair besides the pink ribbon that kept your braid tied -- that small blue-green orb, the White Materia. It clattered to the floor and began to bounce away, landing with a small splash in the water. That materia that your mother gave you that you had no use for. You could have used it for something, couldn't you? To summon Holy.
All of these regrets came rushing to my head as he smirked sadistically, casting a glance at the faces of our team. We were all hit by shock like a blow to the head with an anvil, and he disappeared in a diagonal blur. Tifa was the first one to actually break down and cry, standing by my side. Her gloved hands clamped my shoulder tight as she stared at you in total horror. Did you see her dashing forward and kneeling by you, placing a hand on your cold cheek? Even though I thought she'd considered you a rival, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Did you see me standing there with not a flash of Mako over my eyes, but instead a coat of tears?
The others soon followed, paying their silent respects to you. Tifa turned to me and tried to keep her chin up, despite the tears that were hanging off of its curve. Her face and the utter silence of the others told me that I had to do something to properly bury you.
As much as I didn't want to say goodbye, my feet struggled to carry me over to you, and I slowly knelt to slide my arms under your limp body. I picked you up and just looked at you for a minute, not caring that the crimson life-liquid from your wound was spilling down your side and onto my hands. I turned and made my slow descent down to the lowest platform and stepped into the shallow water that surrounded the lower part of the City of the Ancients.
Your hands had been clasped tightly while you were praying, and hadn't even moved when I set you down in the water. It was warm -- but to me, it was freezing. You seemed to just float there with my support before my trembling arms pulled away. Your body submerged first, and then your face. Our mock funeral's onlookers all gathered around as close as they could to see you disappear to the deep bottom, blanketed by darkness.
It was only then that I'd realized I had you. Just as quickly as I had taken a close liking to you, your fragile life had slipped out of my hands and you were sinking. When this is all over I'll come back to you and stay by your side forever -- even if I'm dead and have a similar burial. Will you see me standing there in grief, and feel the weight of the tears that dare to fall?
Even if I have to drown to see you again ... I will, Aerith Gainsborough.
Eeee. So sad. ;__; I tried to make it pretty, but did I? Arr. Reviews would let me know I'm not the only one who still grieves over Aerith after I've beat FFVII 4828589389438213834348 times.