Tifa, Aerith muses, is like the color of water.
When she fell, she got back up yet did not force her way though. She would flow along, adapting herself to the currents of the river. Like water, she was ever changing. She laughs, she screams, she cries, and a million other colors she does.
She sees her laughing when they talk about their past boyfriends
She sees her screaming when Cloud accidentally stumbled in when they were changing.
She sees her crying as she lay here dying.
Aerith smiles.
-
-
-
-
-
The color of water is never definite.
Because she knew that she will flow on.