Unspoken
By mihoyonagi
Chapter 25: Battle
It was mid-morning when Aerith finally woke, but thankfully she was a bit of a deep sleeper at times. Unsure of how much longer she was going to sleep, Sephiroth made it his business to rearrange their backpacks in a way that made the load considerably lighter for his traveling partner. Knowing that she would never allow such a thing were she awake, the general made haste when pulling the items from her pack and placing them into his. Luckily, it was only when the children started to bustle about the barn that Aerith finally stretched out and opened her eyes.
Sephiroth, after having communicated to the children that they needed a means to cross the swamp, had managed to buy some very, suddenly inexpensive, chocobo lure materia off of them.
'We are going to catch a chocobo to cross the swamp.'
Aerith blinked a few times before she looked up from the notebook, a very tired but understanding attempted nod as her only indication of comprehension.
"You guys want some breakfast?" Puck poked her head into Aerith's makeshift stall-bedroom.
The flower girl smiled brightly, suddenly awake. "We wouldn't want to intrude."
Pete poked his head in after his sister. "If you shake out your blankets, fold up your beds, and store everything in the loft, we'll consider breakfast as a fair enough trade for the labor. Now hurry up; I'm going to start the eggs as soon as feed the birds.
Considering good hospitality, not to mention food, was on the line, Aerith took care of the blankets, leaving Sephiroth to fold up the cots and place them up the small set of stairs near the far end of the barn. When they were done, the tantalizing smells and sounds of home cooked breakfast could be detected through the barn door.
What they met with, however, was a sad sight. "What happened?" Sephiroth heard Aerith exclaim though the puff of smoke that cascaded out of the now open front door.
When Puck stopped had managed to stop coughing, she looked up at Aerith, an uncomfortable grin on her face. "I spilled the jar of bacon grease on the stove when the burner was on."
Sephiroth watched as Aerith smiled, then motioned for him to follow her into the small doorframe, though the house, and into the kitchen. The fire had been put out thanks to Pete, but the wall was slightly charred. The faint smell of bacon could be detected over the smoke of wood and the hiss of metal.
No less than an hour later, the kitchen had been aired out, cleaned, and breakfast had not only been served, but had been eaten as well. Fresh chicken eggs (for one didn't merely eat chocobo) had been both scrambled and fried by the general. Afterwards, the bacon had been cooked. While it was sizzling, Aerith instructed the children to grab a knife and peel potatoes for hash browns. Sephiroth, pleased with cooking such a good looking meal, was duly surprised when it tasted even better than it looked. Juice was the drink of choice, of which Sephiroth found himself downing three large glasses before his toast was gone. It wasn't nearly as delicious as cake, but it was sweet and tart at the same time, and Sephiroth couldn't deny his new taste for it.
Shortly after the dishes were done, goodbyes were said. The mismatched couple were on their way again. Though the rain had subsided, heavy clouds loomed ominously overhead. Aerith continued to wave to the distance, the specks of the children only just visible on the horizon. She turned around and smiled up at her companion. "It's always nice to see kindness, especially in children."
Sephiroth shrugged, ushering her forward. The smile hadn't left her face, but Sephiroth could tell that she was saddened by their departure from the farm. Perhaps, if given the chance in the future, they'd visit.
Catching up with his surroundings and falling out of his thoughts, Sephiroth lifted an arm and pointed to the set of chocobo tracks ahead of them on the plane. Pulling the small, purple orb from his pocket, Sephiroth inserted it into a small hole in his weapon, though he kept it masamune in its sheath.
Off to his side, Aerith had started to make kissing noises, followed by clicks and coos that might get the attention of the large birds that were generally known for cuteness rather than brain capacity. Sure enough, a nearby tangle of trees began to shake and out popped a large, yellow, bird-like head. Coaxing the chocobo out of the bushes was one matter. Catching it was entirely different one, of the like Sephiroth wouldn't soon forget; the bird, though lacking higher cranial functions such as processed though, had managed to evade nearly every attempt the pair had made to catch it. Then, when it seemed that hope has snubbed them and lady luck, the fickle bitch, had all but ran out on them, Aerith took a moment to catch her breath. Sure enough the bird, apparently thinking that the entire ordeal had been some kind of game which was signaled to be over when Aerith sat down, had come over and nudged its beak against her cheek in an effort to get her to stand again and play more.
Sephiroth would never again doubt the intelligence of the dratted birds.
The chocobo, though lacking a saddle, proved to be easier to mount than the general had first anticipated. The bird squatted down and allowed the taller of the two to throw a leg over its side. It then stood, wiggled a bit, and looked for a good placement for the man's legs so as they wouldn't rub against its wings.
When he was finally set and situated, Sephiroth reached down and helped Aerith into the seat in front of him. It was then he because fully and quite aware how not only soft she was, but how good she smelled, despite having slept in a barn the night before. The hay had done nothing to her hair, save for giving it a musty aroma that Sephiroth couldn't exactly deny liking. But, being a gentleman, Sephiroth bit his tongue to keep his mind off the small frame nestled comfortably in front of him. He had always known she was small and soft and fragile, but he hadn't actually ever stopped to think about such it.
Now, of course, wasn't the time.
Gently spurring the chocobo in its sides, Sephiroth took hold of a plume of feathers below the bird's neck so as not to fall off. In front of him, Aerith made a sort of squealing sound when the chocobo shot off at a rather high speed. Her leaning so snugly against the general distracted him greatly, considering he was attempting to ignore the strange sensation in his chest.
He focused on the scenery, or at least attempted to.
A feverish squeal from the chocobo, however, sent the general plummeting back into reality. The chocobo had picked up more speed than it had initially started running with, and for good reason- a large, snake-like shadow in the murky swamp water was hot on their trail. The bird let out another frightened call. Sephiroth spurred the chocobo, hoping it had at least one more burst of speed. The bird, on the other hand, was running short of breath; the chocobo, for certain, was no racing bird.
The large snake-like shadow swerved around the slowing bird and raised itself above the murky swamp water, opening its gigantic mouth and hissing at the creatures who dared to impede upon the wetland.
Thinking as quickly as he could, Sephiroth veered the chocobo to the right. The Zolom, letting out another hiss of anger, struck after the fleeing bird. Muddy water sprayed up where the snake's head had hit the surface of the swamp, narrowly missing the chocobo and its passengers.
Sephiroth took a moment to glance down at the flower girl pressed firmly against his chest. She was frightened, yes, but not completely lacking competent thought process due to shock and fear yet. Releasing one hand from its firm grip on the chocobo, Sephiroth pointed to the small alcove of land in front of the cave that he knew the snake wouldn't dare tread on. Quickly glancing back at him, Aerith looked at him with a look of understanding and anxiety.
He nodded, then ejected himself fro the back of the chocobo.
Not checking to see if Aerith was running for the cave or not, the man with the shock of silver hair removed his katana from its sheath faster than the snake could detect. The Zolom charged again, furious. Leaping out of the way, Sephiroth made a perfect arc in the air with his body before slicing in a downward motion. Masamune cut into the flesh of the snake's neck, and blood began to cloud the already dingy water.
The snake, apparently not used to pain, thrashed out, hissing and spitting all over the place. Not prepared for such a reaction, Sephiroth fell victim to the tail end of the flailing snake. The blow weakened him considerably, knocking the wind out of him and sending him back a few feet.
Gathering together its senses, the Zolom hisses again and looked around for its prey. Rearing its head further into the air, the snake prepared itself to strike.
Sephiroth, however, was stuck in the mud. A sense of anxiety tightened his chest as he looked up into the gaze of the Zolom. Feverishly, he tried to dislodge his legs from the sticky mud, but the goo held fast and prevented the general from moving out of the way.
The Zolom struck just as Sephiroth held Masamune above his head. The snake, now stuck with a sword in against its lower and upper jaw, was not one to give in. Thrashing its head back and forth, it tired to dislodge the sword pressed against its face.
With one hand tightly holding Masamune's hilt, Sephiroth pressed his other hand into the back of the blade. Upper body strength was not a problem; the issue, however, was that the general couldn't get good footing in the mud. His back bent at a strange angle, Sephiroth bit his lip as he tried to straighten his body.
Suddenly, the Zolom's tongue dived feverishly at the general, past Masamune. The tongue, narrowly missing Sephiroth's head, retracted and made for another stab.
Throwing himself into the mud, Sephiroth turned his body in a way that took the Zolom downward with him. Where Masamune had rested inside the snake's mouth now stood a large gaping hole in the gum; Sephiroth had managed to pull one of the Zolom's teeth out with his turn of body.
The fang, unfortunately, scratched the arm of the general in the process of being ripped out of the snake's mouth. A feeling of coldness immediately took over Sephiroth's body. He turned to look at the wound, but his vision already began to blur and swirl. Sephiroth could feel the poison work its way through his body. His hands grew cold and heavy; within seconds of receiving the fang wound, Sephiroth's arms went numb and Masamune fell from his limp fingers.
A warm light engulfed him and the scent of flowers overpowered his senses. The next thing the general saw was the snake coming at him again. This time, however, Sephiroth was more than prepared for it. Sinking to his knees, Sephiroth retrieved Masamune from the mud. In a motion that only a master could perform, Sephiroth managed to behead the Zolom only moments before it struck him.
Looking around, Sephiroth's eyes made contact with that in which he had feared the moment he smelled the flowers; in the mud lie the flower girl, completely unconscious and thoroughly soaked.
Sheathing Masamune, Sephiroth trudged through the mud, assuming Aerith had jumped chocobo mere moments after he had directed her toward the cave in order to help him. While her help wasn't unappreciated, Sephiroth felt a twinge of annoyance considering she had blatantly disregarded her own safety after he had tried to fight a giant snake to protect her. Sighing, he bent down to pick her up out of the mud.
Reaching out, Sephiroth was surprised over how warm her body felt. Placing the back of his hand against her forehead made his heart sink; she was already running a fever.
Carefully picking Aerith up, Sephiroth attempted to be as gentle as he could. Walking through the muddy swamp with a woman in his arms, however, proved to be more difficult than he first anticipated. Still, the general wasn't about to give up. Eventually he began to near the end of the swamp, and the mud beneath his feet slowly began to give way to firmer earth.
The Mythril Mines glistened with phosphorescent beauty, almost as if welcoming in the two travelers with sparkling hospitality. Tenderly, Sephiroth placed Aerith's unconscious body upon the floor of the cavern, leaning her up against a stone wall. Retrieving both of their sleeping mats from their packs, Sephiroth also removed his coat to make a softer bed for the slumbering girl. Only when he was sure she would be comfortable did he lie her down.
Ideas of how she had ended up unconscious bumbled and tumbled through his head. The only halfway logical reason seemed to be that she had put too much into the cure spell she had used on him. It was only when he thought back on it did Sephiroth realized that the fang had, in fact, deeply punctured his skin. Looking to his arm, he saw that while his shirt was torn, his skin was clean and smooth. His mouth fell agape in awe.
Tenderly, Sephiroth placed the back of his hand to Aerith's forehead again. He frowned and furrowed his brow; she seemed warmer than before.
Gathering some dried leaves from the cavern floor, Sephiroth made a small pile near where Aerith lie. Carefully, with the skill of a master, he manipulated his fire materia orb to create a small, yet warm, controlled fire. Only after supplying the small fire with more suitable burning material did he turned his gaze once again to the flower girl.
He studied her, examined her, as she lie unconscious. Sephiroth had never watched another human sleep with such interest before, and he honestly doubted he ever would again; there was something about the flower girl that drew his interest. When he looked at her, he felt not as if he couldn't look away, but rather as if he didn't want to.
Suddenly, she stirred. Sephiroth sat on his knees next to her, partially looming over her. The heat of the fire warmed her cheeks and left them looking pinker than usual. He waited, almost holding his breath, for her to stir once more, but when she didn't Sephiroth sat back and felt himself slipping under her spell again.
How was it that she had managed to keep his interest? Not once had Aerith failed to surprise him. Just when he felt he had figured her out, she, like the seasons, changed right before his eyes. Sephiroth knew and understood that humans changed perhaps better than most, for he himself had changed a great deal once upon a time, but no matter how much he felt he understood such a concept, Aerith remained a mystery.
Tentatively, Sephiroth reached out his hand. Gently pulling a few fingers through her chestnut bangs, he contemplated what exactly he and the flower girl were to one another.
He kept her company, and she him. He fought, and she always made sure he was strong enough to do so. They shared a deep past, and were forced together, perhaps for the better now that Sephiroth contemplated it, by what felt like a deep connection, but what precisely it was Sephiroth couldn't say for sure.
She was special, no less, and that much Sephiroth did understand.
Pulling his fingers through her hair, he lost himself in thought, much like he noticed himself to be doing while in her presence as of late. The minds of all seemed to calm greatly when in her presence, the great general no exception.
Moving his hand from her hair and placing the back of his palm against Aerith's forehead once more, Sephiroth was relieved to find that her temperature had dropped.
Again, she stirred. Sephiroth quickly removed his hand and looked upon her with curiosity. Was she going to wake?
His hopes, however, were dashed like water on rocks when she merely twitched and fell back into slumber.
Sighing, Sephiroth made to lie upon his side, pillowing his head with his arm. Level with the flower girl, Sephiroth couldn't help but watch her sleep.