Summary: And in this crazy life, and in these crazy times, it's you, it's you, you make me sing. You're every line, you're every word, you're everything. [Collection of Clorith-centered one-shots
AN: Thanks again, cookies!
Everything
003. Savior
Acolyte, they call her.
Surely she isn't the only one on the planet with healing powers. She's not the only one, but she's got this way about her that just makes you crave her healing touch And, god, she's just so damn tiny, with bony arms and elbows because she never eats, she's too busy helping everybody else, healing their broken hearts in the name of a nameless calling that only she understands and knows about.
But no one sees the acolyte collapse after a long day; no one sees her pain as she exhausts the last of her energy to disinfect a paper-cut, a bruised elbow, a dying woman's bad knees. No one sees past the faux-smile and mock energy. They just see Aerith Gainsborough, little girl, prodigy acolyte with a gentle smile.
He sees.
He sees her falter when her belly grumbles, telling her that despite her best intentions, she can't do everything all on her own, all by herself. She's only a little girl, after all, barely fourteen, and smiling brighter than sunshine is a great responsibility.
So when the last person leaves the church at night, scurrying off into the darkness, and she allows herself to fall to her knees in panting, heaving breaths, her belly roaring because she gave all of her food to the little hungry kitten outside and her body shaking from strain of playing a miracle-worker for a hundred thankless souls, he steps inside with a bag of apples, a warm blanket, and an understanding ear.
Sure, he can't heal the masses, or smile pure sunshine, and he never gives his food to the strays, but the look she gives him when he arrives every day without fail makes him feel like he could be a savior, too.
