I do now own Final Fantasy or its characters.
Pretty normal day. But wasn't that how everyday was in Midgar? To the average person, yes. But for Aerith, every day was met with anticipation. For the past five years Aerith awoke with a renewed vigor that he might come back. It was nearly the only thing that kept her going these days. Her days had been so boring before he fell from the sky. Yet now the only constant in her life was the suited men that watched her from the shadows of her sanctuary.
"So, any news today?" Aerith called out to the air. She knew he could hear her, but as always her questions were met with the whistling wind. But that never stopped her daily interrogation of her stalkers. She knew they had the information she wanted, but they would never tell. Sometimes she had to admit that she didn't want to know. Sometimes it was easier to live in hope.
Today was one of those days that Aerith decided she didn't want her answer. She turned away from the doorway and glided towards her flower bed, only to be stopped by the falling dust. She had only ever seen this happen once before, when her angel had come crashing down. It was involuntary as she looked up, eager for a miracle.
A black streak whizzed through the air, landing amoungst her beloved yellow flowers. Aerith could only stand and stare, eyes wide and mouth agape. Her feet moved of their own accord, her mind going blank if only in an effort to keep from hoping. But the closer she got, the more her heart sank.
While clad in the familiar black gear, this man was clearly different. He was blond and a tad on the short side. His skin was a milkier white, and his uniform was clearly missing some components. Aerith sank to her fknees, a quiet sob shivering through her. She had done it, she let herself hope that he had returned to her.
But what a silly thought. The man she had spent two years of her life with hadn't so much as sent a reply to her letters, let alone come to see her out of the blue. She supposed she should give up on him, but her heart just wouldn't allow it. Aerith gained her composure back and headed for the foreign boy, unable to turn away from someone that needed help.
The boy groaned as she approached, and Aerith stopped so as not to startle him. As he rolled to his side, she saw it. Strapped to the boy's back was an item that she remembered in every dream she had of him. He clung to it dearly, had even wept over the blade. She had heard him affectionately called it the Buster Sword. It was taller than she, and wider than her waist. She was sure it was the same, the hilt told the story. She could see the wear of use, could discern the blood that had come from its wielders. She glanced longingly at the blade, wondering how in the world this boy came to acquire it.
Go with him.
If anyone else heard the voice, they surely would have jumped straight out of their skin. But Aerith was used to the voices. She could hear the Earth as it talked, but never had it given her a command before.
He will keep you safe.
Aerith hesitated. The Lifestream wasn't usually so comforting. It rarely seemed concerned for her wellbeing. Usually all she heard was just whispers, and sometimes cries. Even the inflection that the voice gave off was different. It was somehow, familiar.
"Hellooo." Aeirth called to the sleeping man. Maybe, this wasn't going to be such a regular day after all.