Chapter 1
Aerith didn't think she'd ever given a good pair of shoulders enough appreciation before. It just hadn't crossed her mind. In Midgar most people tended to cover up, warm clothing being more affordable that central heating, but still; she felt she'd done shoulders a bit of a disservice by so disregarding them.
I think I could stare at those all day and not get bored, she thought, smirking to herself with the realisation that it was a good job too as she wasn't likely to come across many other sources of entertainment as they made their way across the grasslands towards the Mythril Mines. Tifa's arms were swinging loosely by her sides as she walked with Cloud and Barret a few paces ahead, but Aerith could see the muscles and the bones and the tendons of her shoulders beautifully outlined under her skin and ready to snap into action at the sight of danger.
Aerith had never really studied anyone's shoulders before but she semi-convinced herself that Tifa's shoulders must just be more interesting than other people's. She glanced across at Cloud's to check and quickly found herself shrugging her own shoulders in disinterest.
It was interesting though: the fact that Tifa's shoulders and the way she held herself showed that obvious strength, the kind of 'don't-mess-with-this-unless-you-want-to-lose-limb-functionality', but there was still an alluring sense of delicacy and typified femininity. It was a little like the delicately eye-catching thin black line of her braces against the rough, grass-stained cotton of her white vest.
Aerith's desire to run her hands over Tifa's shoulders was astonishingly high.
Ordinarily speaking, this wouldn't necessarily be an issue; shoulders are generally considered fairly innocuous, fairly accessible within the confines of a friendly hug. The problem was twofold, however: first was the fairly major issue in that Tifa seemed to shy away from physical contact with other people as much as was practicable, and certainly never seemed comfortable with the concept of gratuitous hugs. Second of course was Aerith's own issue in that the more she stared at Tifa's shoulders, the more unconvinced she was by her own mind's attempted reasoning that of course she wouldn't have a problem in restricting her hands to only 'friendly' inspection of the fighter's shoulders.
"You've been a bit quiet since Kalm."
Aerith almost audibly squeaked, so surprised was she to be broken from her reverential contemplation by the rumbling growl of Red's voice beside her.
"I know Cloud's story was uncomfortable and must have provoked a lot of questions for you?"
"Oh," she smiled brightly at him, waving away his needless gentle probing, sweet as it was, "no, no, I'm fine, really. Honestly, I haven't really thought about it all that much; it's hard to think about Sephiroth and death and horrid things I associate with Midgar when there's so much green space and nature around us, so much beauty." She worked hard to keep her face straight and blush-free and to not zero her gaze right back to Tifa as she said that last bit.
"Fair enough," he replied, his head cocking slightly. "I suppose, as Cetra, you are perhaps even more susceptible to nature's beauty than the rest of us."
"I guess," Aerith said a little uncertainly, given that she hadn't in actuality given nature's beauty more than the odd glance here and there, her gaze being captured by something slightly more specific.