Realistic

"Hey, Aerith. Name a flower. Your favorite. Whatever you want."

Aerith looked over at Demyx, who was standing nearby at one of the flower beds. His black clothing contrasted sharply with the colorful blossoms behind him. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I want to show you something. Come on, help me out here." He was trying to keep a straight face, but his eyes gave him away; he was clearly intent on something.

"All right." Aerith put down her watering can. She couldn't imagine what he planned to do, but Demyx had pulled a few surprises on her before. He seemed to like trying to impress her in any way he could, and who was she to stop him? "Rose," she selected.

Demyx paused and thought. "Okay," he replied with a smirk. "Watch this."

He held out one hand, palm up, and gazed at it fixedly. Aerith watched as water began to seep upward through his hand; she stepped forward for a better look as it began to take on a vague shape. Slowly, small petals formed, grouping themselves into a distinctly familiar blossom. The flower began to ascend as a thin stem, complete with thorny droplets running its length, followed underneath, a leaf emerging along the way. The piece of liquid art caught the sunlight in its depths and reflected it outward with brilliance.

Demyx brought his creation's growth to a stop before the stem could become too long. He held the shimmering rose out further toward Aerith. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Aerith stared at it in admiration. How did he learn to do these things? If she had chosen another flower, could he have made it just as well? The watery rose before her almost looked like an ice sculpture, but was not; it was easy to tell that it was fluid. It was fairly detailed, too – she could see the outline of each petal. Aerith looked back at Demyx. "It's beyond cool," she replied, smiling.

Demyx seemed pleased. "It took some practice, but it wasn't too hard," he told her, and added, "Look, harmless thorns!"

Aerith just smiled and reached out to touch the rose. Her finger went right through it and back out again, but the flower maintained its form. Compared to him, she thought, she had little talent. But not everyone was so artistic with magic.

"I only wish it was substantial," Demyx was saying, "so then maybe you could keep it. But it's water, so there's only so much –"

He stopped. Aerith had leaned forward and was holding her finger a mere inch or so from his lips to silence him. Demyx's mouth snapped closed, his mind going momentarily blank, and the flower collapsed and spilled to the grass. He dropped his wet hand down to his side.

Aerith moved her finger away and leaned back again. "Don't worry about it. I'm not asking anything more of you."

"Oh…okay." If Aerith thought it was good enough, then he wasn't about to protest.

Demyx brought up his hand again. Maybe she wasn't asking, but he was all too willing. "One more time?" he proposed.

She nodded, graciously accepting.

The rose might have been insubstantial, but nonetheless it was unparalleled.

Its creator was also both of those.

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Something I came up with during the time I was writing "Lest I Forget" but was too lazy to fix up 'til now.

More stories to come...