Chris Flowers vigorously alternated between banging his head against the computer monitor and the desk it sat upon. Oh sweet Yahweh, how this class bored him! Pascal, a programming language so archaic it was only still in use on the heavily decaying space shuttles, and taught by a Elementary School Football Coach. He would have attempted to keep a straight face and stare blankly towards the front of the class (perhaps while he slept) but in reality was far past the point where he could listen to the teacher vainly grasp at some comprehension of what he said without feeling his sanity slipping away from him... slowly at first, but in ever greater amounts.
Each hand raised to ask a question about last weeks lessons, where you got 70 points for putting your name, each temperature conversion program... they all contributed to the gnawing madness he felt growing in his head, like an infection taking hold. Growing and beating to the rhythm of this place, the pure dull monotony of Stupidity... ignorance in the face of knowledge... the vile perversion this place was of a School... it seemed to take on a life of its own, siphoned away from his during all these years he had endured this sophomoric crap, like every repetitive thought of outrage that bubbled up when his classmates did not know things he never even considered an unlearned barbarian being ignorant of.
But what really should have alarmed him more then it did was the fact that this living illness in his head liked to talk to him. At the moment however, the mild concussion, which he was trying to upgrade into a more serious version, was taking care of that.
Currently, he was thinking how funny it was that your peripheral vision starts to grow progressively grayer when you do that. This train of thought, if it can really be called that - the public school system does an exceedingly good job of beating that out of all who attend - soon came to an end, when bringing his head up from the desk he look at the monitor before slamming his forehead into it. Somewhere in the background he heard someone asking questions about variables. It was nearing the end of the school year, and they had covered that in the first week. Despite the increased temptation that brought to continue his merciless onslaught on his own self, he refrained because of what he saw in the monitor.
The monitor looked hollow, like it hadn't a thick glass screen at all, and also more spacious, though indistinct, on the inside then its objective dimension should allow. On the inside, were a few fuzzy objects that he immediately decided would be a good idea to reach out and grab... without doing something stupid, like looking the other way. The nice hallucination might go away then. But, much to his surprise, when he reached both of his arms into the monitor, grabbing hold of two items, and feeling another two grab a hold of him, someone in the class responded much as he might expect them to if he really were doing what he was doing... "What the hell?" someone said, and then a "wow!" followed.
He tried pulling his arms back, but something seemed to catch them, like he had put them in a place the individual atoms would much rather be then anywhere else, and it took him standing up and yanking, with considerable force, against the innate tendency his arms had towards the unusual occurrence. Chris then found himself holding a bag in his left hand, and a staff, slightly shorter then he, in the other.
About both forearms was a simplistic, though mildly decorative, bracer that had clasped itself into place. There were two pairs of shallow grooves in each piece of armorthey were connected to the other in the same pair by another shallow groove. They were positioned lengthwise, going down his arm. The staff was knobbed and looked not as if some artisan had fashioned a branch that they had found, but rather that the staff had grown from the ground in this exact way just for a specific purpose. It had three large groves arranged equilaterally at the top of the staff, and three lines of three that twisted their way down the length of the staff until the bottom of the staff, which resulted in another socket... apparently one where something similar to the rest could be inserted.
As he started to look, with a blind curiosity, through the bag, he began to be aware of other people and the things around him again. Everyone in the class who possessed a moderate intelligence or relative level of sanity had already ran away screaming. That said, the class was still full, and they were doing the last thing they should have done under that situation. They were annoying him by asking him pointless questions.
Also, apparently the monitor had imploded into something roughly the size of a can of soup, with large pointy edges at every angle (and some he was confident were not present in a wholly Euclidean geometry).
The first object he pulled out of the bag was a small emerald green pebble, roughly the size of a large marble... or one of those grooves. He decided to place it into his left bracer with the personal justification of 'might as well'. When he did, the groove underneath the pebble glowed a like color, as if it were illuminated by a bright light shown through a semi-opaque moving fluid of a brilliant green color, and this effect extended to the nearest half of the line connecting it with the nearby groove.
Some important things need to be made note of here. Chris is tall, roughly 6'2" at the time, and at 14, better then a year younger then his classmates. Also, he had recently bought his first RPG for the PlayStation console.
That said, his mind immediately realized what this was, but was cruelly keeping him from believing it without the slightest reservation. But now only to determine what Materia it is if it is a Materia...
He looked straight at the stupefied teacher, and started naming off Elements.
The cold breeze blowing down the side of the mountain pulled at his long snaking hair, making it twirl before his face and shoulders like a living creature. Below, Nibelheim rested, the windows of newly rebuilt houses dark in the late evening.
"Lucrecia..."
His voice startled him a bit- he hadn't heard anything but bird calls in the last three days. Vincent swallowed and stood slowly. He'd finally gotten his mind wrapped around the idea that Lucrecia was alive again, but he still hadn't figured out how. The only way... would be to ask her. Yet...
That look in her eyes as she'd watched Sephiroth fall. That wasn't the look of a mother towards a son. That was- that was the look she gave Hojo- that was the look she'd given HIM. Vincent's flesh hand clenched firmly into a fist. The only way to find out...
"...ask her..." the wind seamed to moan and he gave an involuntary shiver.
Aerith sat on her bed, staring out the window, mind elsewhere as she held the White Materia between her hands. Something... was wrong with the world. Something desperately wrong. As if poison had fallen into the Lifestream, as if destiny had gotten off its lazy butt and started moving and it was dragging the world along with it. And it was going to be a bumpy ride.
"Aerith! Dinner!"
Slowly, she stirred, sighing softly as she got up, tucking the Materia into her hair bow again. Brilliant green eyes glanced out the window once more, then she turned, padding barefoot out of her room and down the stairs.
He sat on the edge of the bridge, legs over the side, swinging a bit in a childish carefree sort of way. Softly, he was humming- tunelessly at that. The occasional words popped into his song too... Something along the lines of "I like platypi, oh yes I do..." In his lap rested a staff with shining gems of green and red set into the metal. Thirteen to be exact.
Behind him...
A somewhat nameless town in a backwaters part of Alabama blazed brightly as a sun. The sound of something exploding caused the tall and thin young man to grin... maniacally.
"I am a chicken, ducks and who I like to pet, and put into small boxes labeled HOTDOG, and then I will eat them aliiiiiveee! Tis teh perfect crime!" he said joyfully, then nodded... Sagely. As was the only way to nod.
Chaos and destruction ran rampant throughout the world. It seemed all the loonies had taken this as their cue to come out of the woodwork and start causing trouble for everyone else. All the priests were howling that it was Armageddon and the end of the world and that the Sinners were being punished. Every news channel showed some catastrophe that had occurred and their latest topic was a young man from a smallish city in Alabama that had gained strange powers and the police were incapable of stopping his rampage across the country. His path of destruction had started with his family: their bodies having been mutilated and nailed to burning crosses in his perfectly manicured backyard while ranged around them were a multitude of garden gnomes, pink flamingos, and bunnies that had been stolen from other people's yards and the local garden stores. Their blood covered the entire inside of the house as if he'd used a paint brush to do so.
The Satanists claimed him to be the Anti Christ.
They'd claim anyone as the Anti Christ so long as that person caused as much death and destruction as possible. And that, seemed to be the exact goal of this young man. The fact that he'd claimed the name of a demon as his certainly didn't help calm the mass panic that had taken hold of the country. That name, having been revealed after the young man destroyed Atlanta, burning the name he chose into the ground so large that it was only readable from above.
"We're here now in a shelter with Angela Martin, a survivor of the latest attack of Vassago." The reporter, a man with brown plastic looking hair backed up towards a woman. She was wild eyed and dirty sitting staring at the camera, looking nearly in shock as the reporter shoved his microphone in her face. "Tell us what you saw?" he asked, trying to sound kind and concerned.
She swallowed, shivering, "I saw- a... man- he... he walked into town..." Her brows twitched, and she burst into tears, flailing her arms wildly and knocking the microphone from the reporter's grip, but her voice could still be heard. "He called forth a DEMON! It had horns and breathed fire and it threw cars like they were toys- It ate my HUSBAND!" She sagged down, sobbing, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth on the bench she was seated on. The reporter had finally recollected his mic and stood, putting his hair back in order.
"Well, there you have it..." he seemed a bit shaken.
Carefully standing, Vincent pushed his cloak back as the wind tried to twist it into a knot around his legs. He shifted his weight and leapt down to the next outcropping of rock. Perhaps it was time to talk to her.
Landing- he bent his knees to take the impact, one hand lifted back and up a bit, holding his cloak out of the way, his flesh hand touching the ground briefly. Lifting his head-
He blinked.
Where-?
Where'd Nibelheim gone!
An expanse of forest stretched out around him. He was still on a mountain- or what could be loosely termed a mountain. It was more an overgrown hill. Hanging sullenly over the land was a solid mass of clouds, lightning frequently striking the ground though no rain fell from that low ceiling. Fires burned uncontrolled throughout the city that stretched below him, the smoke being swept away by a stiff breeze, keeping the view perfectly clear for miles. The lurid red glow was like a flashback from Nibelheim- nearly like a scene from hell. But this place...
It was not Nibelheim, these mountains were none that he recognized. Even if millions of years passed, these egotistical hills could never be mistaken for the majestic Nibel mountains. He stood- and started as a loud honking interrupted his thoughts, swiftly, he moved aside, watching the vehicle rush past him on the-
Vincent looked down at the road he stood on, then to his left to see it twist on up the mountain and on his right, the road led down towards the land below the mountain. Taking a breath, he opened his mouth. "..." was all he managed to say about the situation.
Darkness surrounded him. Writhing and swirling, eating away at him. Wearing down on his senses and destroying his will- his protection against it.
The darkness was not silent, however. There was still sound and sight and touch. Was he really blind?
Beyond him- far out of reach- she sat in darkness, on a pillar in the dress he'd given her in their dreams, the flowers in her hair dead, the brown petals blowing in a swirl of wind around her. The gnarled branches of their tree pointed sharply at the ends, as if to scratch the sky and make it bleed.
He took a breath to call her name- he choked on the darkness. It tried to get inside him- tried to take over- tried to block him from her! Arms flailing wildly, he tried to get to her but the closer he got the further away she was. He was being dragged down, down into the swirling mass of black tar, poisonous tentacles reaching up to wrap around his body and take hold of his limbs, squeezing and crushing the breath from him.
A whimper escaped his lips...
"Katy-"
She opened her eyes, soaked in sweat. The first time she'd opened her eyes in what seemed years. For once they weren't already wet with tears. Slowly, she took a breath. Had she really heard him? She wasn't sure, but of course, her mind decided to remind her of her current situation... and how closely it resembled something that happened in a book she'd read. She'd cried when reading that book. 'The Last Herald-Mage' by Mercedes Lackey- actually three books in one, but still. Poor Vanyel, she'd thought. She felt so sorry for him when his love died... when the only one he'd ever really cared for had been taken from him by unfortunate circumstances...
Strange how he always remembered his epiphanies and manage to change himself accordingly. Katy never could. She always forgot them and fell back into the same stupid habit again. Pulling her legs against her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, realizing that it was day again. How many had it been? She wasn't sure. She'd gotten past the point of being hungry- she was so hungry she didn't realize she was hungry anymore. It made her sick thinking of food.
Nature, however, could not be ignored, and slowly, she sat up, looking around the room... and coming to the realization that she was not in the same room she'd last woken up in. She felt... grimy- and wasn't wearing that uniform. She was wearing something pink that looked like one of Aerith's nightgowns. Another blink was given.
Yes. It WAS Aerith's room.
"Michow... Chris..." Slowly- she moved, sliding her feet to the floor- feeling dizzy and nauseous suddenly. Perhaps she was just really hungry? Standing seemed to be beyond her for a long time, but finally she pushed herself to her feet and had to clutch the post of the bed, reaching out nearly blindly, she at last located the nightstand and her glasses. Unable to spare her other hand long enough to unfold them, she used her mouth and stuck them onto her face one handed. At last, she could see the room clearly.
It hadn't changed in the least. Sept' for maybe the flowers. Reaching her arm out, she caught the wall and used that to support herself- putting her other hand to it and sliding along inch by inch till she got to the door and caught hold of the knob.
One twist and it came open- a form falling in unceremoniously through the door- Zack stared up at her, his eyes groggy from the nap she'd interrupted, then burst into a grin, staggering to his feet he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his chest. Katy didn't fight him... Couldn't have even if she wanted to. He smelled... a little like Sephiroth. Not really though. Joyfully, he yammered at her, words she couldn't understand in the least, and called down the stairs.
She made no move to stop him from that either, simply sort-of stood in his arms. If he'd let her go at that moment, she would have met the floor- probably intimately. His bright eyes turned down towards her, turning sad and he moved his head- probably seeing if she were still awake. She managed to lift her eyes, looking at him over her glasses, not wanting to move her head.
"Bathroom," she said, using the word Aerith had taught her for that place. She had the feeling that she was probably using the word incorrectly- or impolitely at least, but it got the message across.
Solemnly, Zack gave a nod, loosening his grip on her a bit, but only so he could lift her up and turn towards the door. Aerith finally made an appearance, nearly in tears as well. Zack spoke to her, shaking his head and Aerith subsided, stopping herself from grabbing hold of Katy, who simply lay in Zack's arms, head against his shoulder, staring down at her arms, realizing that they were thin!
Fingers curled, bit by bit, taking hold of the wooly fabric of Aerith's nightgown. How long had she been- could she really call it sleeping? Of course, she had no way of asking. The only one she could ask was-
She shivered, clenching her teeth. "failed..."
Closing her eyes, she forced the tears back. It served another purpose as well. She couldn't see that damn pitying look on Aerith's face. That didn't stop her from hearing Zack's voice though. He sounded worried. At least they were moving, and down the stairs it seemed. Opening her eyes, she found Zack at the door to the bathroom and he carefully set her feet on the floor, Aerith taking over supporting her.
Nature was answered without incident and Aerith helped Katy from the restroom, now fully dressed since the half Cetra had removed herself while Katy did her business and returned with something to wear. They were Katy's clothes... but they didn't fit right. She was too skinny in most places, and too large in others. Namely, one area. She was distracted from thinking on it further by being led to the kitchen table and let into a seat, where a very light breakfast of toast and tea was set before her.
For what seemed forever, she simply stared at it. Zack shifted nervously, "Think she's left us again?" he asked Aerith softly while Elmyra tried to keep from pulling her hair out in worry by washing dishes that had already been washed and dried and washed and dried before that. Almost as if in answer, Katy shifted, lifting a hand and picked a corner off the toast, nibbling a bit.
An hour went by and she slowly ate her breakfast, nibbling it, letting it sink in, and not moving as much as she could. She felt... tired. And sick. She was startled when Aerith placed her drawing pad on the table. On the page the book was opened to there were stick figures of a round guy with hair in a ponytail and what she assumed to be a girl. Aerith held the pencil.
First, she pointed at the male and stated, "Crisu," her pronunciation of "Chris", then at the girl. Slowly, she added a tail and strange triangular ears. "Mi-how," Aerith stated.
Carefully, Aerith began to draw, erasing often and covering the table with the little black curls.
Katy swayed-
His breath came out in ragged gasps as he held her back with his sword, her eyes calm, emotionless- frightening.
Zack was holding her up, Katy looked towards the notepad- Aerith wasn't done yet, she couldn't see anything.
She scored yet again, claws taking a gouge out of his stomach, ripping his shirt and through his armor as if it were paper. He watched in horror as his intestines slopped out a bit, threatening to meet the floor. She wasn't even out of breath, his body was covered in sweat, and it would have been stinging in his wounds but for the fact that she'd cut him too deep for him to notice anything but the pain from that. Her tail slowly curled behind her as she stood in a wide legged stance, hands lifted, palms towards the floor, knees bent. He hadn't gotten a mark on her- how could he? She was too fast. "Stop it- Don't you remember me!" he panted, staggering back a few paces.
Once more, Katy shook herself awake, yawning a bit, looking over to see if Aerith was done yet.
She darted forward again, stabbing her hands into his stomach, claws nearly coming out the other side, the entire front of her once pristine white clothes now covered in blood. His blood. His sword clattered to the metal decking, ringing sharply in his ears as his hands gripped her wrists. "Michele..." he gasped, brown eyes wide.
"That's enough Naomi." The stringy haired old man stepped out of the shadows, leaning heavily on a pipe, his thigh wrapped tightly in a strip of cloth that had come from his coat. His eyes were left in shadow still, his nose fully in the light- like the beak of a hawk.
She stepped back, removing her hands from the young man's stomach, letting him fall to his knees, then continued forward onto his face. She straightened, lowering her hands to her sides and turned towards Hojo, waiting for her next order.
Katy blinked-
The stick figures identified as Michelle and Chris- had gotten into a fight. And...
Softly, her lips moved, her eyes went wide, she tried to breathe. Her eyes watered as she stared at the small picture of a lump of 'dirt' with a cross planted over it. Beside it Michelle still stood, what looked like a puddle around her. The 'Chris' figure was gone. Her eyes lifted towards Aerith- and she winced at the pity she saw there. She didn't dare look at Zack. Katy found the strength to shove them both aside and get to her feet, stumbling towards the front door.
Zack reached out, catching Aerith's hand, "No... she's had enough. Let her go for now."
"But- what if..."
He shook his head, "She won't get far. She's been comatose for nearly two days." Aerith bowed her head, staring down at her pictures. "Someone out there must really hate her..." he murmured softly.
Nearly blind from the water, he had his arm lifted up to shade his eyes, but it did little good. At last, he reached the dubious shelter of a building blackened by fires and damaged by various other haywire forces. Vincent stumbled inside and lowered his arm, eyes adjusting to the darkness- watching rain pour in through the half of the roof that had collapsed, but the part near the door was still standing and leaking only marginally. Better than being out THERE. He stepped in further-
The click had his gun in his hand immediately and pointed towards the source, his eyes straining in the dark to finally make out the young woman, clutching a revolver shakily- pointing it at him. "Put it down," he said softly, "I won't hurt you."
She shivered, taking a step back. Her body was burnt to black on one side, but she was still alive. Perhaps barely. In a flash of movement, Vincent disarmed her and put the gun down on the floor, holstering his. "I won't hurt you," he stated again. His hand covered her mouth before she could even take a breath to wail a scream and he forced her to sit, his claw reached back, pulling his gun out once more but he carefully flicked a green sphere from the hilt, catching it and half-closing his eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, almost with a vengeance, green light flared up around him, then burst out over the woman. She gasped in shock- and terror- watching as her burns healed, and scarred over. She'd possibly been pretty at one time, but she wasn't much to look at now. Replacing the Materia into his gun, he put the pistol away and had a seat on the soggy ground. "Tell me, what has happened here?"
"Mimi mimimimi mimi mimimimimi mimimimi mimimi mimimi mimi mimimi mimi" she said softly, staring down at her hands.
"Shit," Vincent huffed and stared down at the ground for a long moment before shifting to Wutain, "Can you understand me?" She looked towards him, confusion in her eyes. Nope. "..." he sighed and looked at the ground again. Outside, the rain poured. Inside, silence persisted.
Five years... Katy would have to wait five years to meet Sephiroth again. She couldn't wait that long! Not after finally being told that her morning illnesses and general fatigue and various other things going on with her body lately were a bit more serious than just depression. She was pregnant, and it was undeniably Sephiroth's. God! How stupid she'd been. He hadn't been worried, of course he wasn't. Why should he be? He had no fucken clue about the danger and pain and work involved in having a baby. It wasn't what Katy had wanted... Not in a million years had she ever thought she'd be a teenage mother.
Everything was going wrong. Not only had Aerith found out that Michelle was mutated and under Hojo's complete control, she'd found out that Chris was undeniably dead. His mutilated corpse had been dropped into the slums, his death blamed on someone or other and that poor innocent taken to the tower for 'questioning' and who knew what else. Then there was the problem that Katy was meeting more and more people who could speak English. What she'd heard from them was getting rather frightening.
More than a few were rabid gamers and knew of FF7, and more than a few were upset about their timing. She refrained from telling them her failure. Some even professed deep hatred for Sephiroth, made fun of him. That hurt. Deeply. On top of the chaos happening on the Planet, Earth was in trouble too. Monsters from the Planet were sliding over, wreaking havoc and chaos, someone even told her about some young man, also of the name of Chris Flowers, who was running around with a staff full of Materia gobbling about platypi and giant chickens. God, she had no doubt who that was and she wasn't the least bit surprised he'd finally gone nuts.
At least, more than he'd already been...
She rubbed her stomach as she sat in Aerith's garden, listening to someone else who'd made their way to Aerith's house- on the hope that they could woo the lovely Pink Princess, or figure out what point in the game they'd entered. They all wanted to be heroes, but Katy wondered vaguely if they'd have done any better of a job than she had.
"Destiny..." she murmured softly, not aware that she'd interrupted the flow of words.
Aerith was seated nearby, staring down at her teacup, as if she could find a translation within the dark liquid held within. She blinked, looking up, as if startled by Katy's word. "Mi mimimi mimi mimi mimimimi mimi mimi mimi mimimi mimimi mimimimi ka?" she asked. It all sounded like a bunch of gibbering to Katy, but she could tell it was a question by now as it ended with an upward lit of tone and the syllable 'ka'. She'd gotten that much at least.
Katy shook her head absently, and the exchange had stopped their current guest. "What?" the geeky teenager asked, his drab brown eyes wide, pimpled face suffused with blood at his excitement. "What about Destiny? What'd she say?"
Giving a smile, Katy stood, her skirt falling straight, "Destiny is a rather wild beast," she stated and as she spoke, it seemed like her vision had become clearer. "Like rodeo riding. Can't ride that horse for the crowd, got to hang on for yourself. Ride it because you want to, or you'll fall off. Or maybe it's not really destiny? Destiny's a sort of thing you can't escape. Heroism? No... that's a bloody stupid reason to do something." Her eyes narrowed. "No." She looked down at Aerith. "I may have failed Seph, but I won't fail her, and I won't wait five years."
The boy stared up at her, gawking, "Wait- huh?"
Turning back towards the boy, she smiled, "Thank you, go away now. I've got a rather nasty ride ahead of me." Frowning, Katy contemplated things. She could never get anything done with crazy gamers always dropping by, she needed somewhere new to go- somewhere only someone native to the world would know how to get to. Not too far away. She needed to get it done before she got too far along in her pregnancy and wouldn't be able to do anything. She needed to finish this before the kid was born. Her child would NOT grow up without a father, with the threat of Jenova hanging over him- or her.
First thing was first though- she needed to force Jenova's hand. Right now, she thought she had all the time in the world. A smile curved her lips. "Right." She muttered and turned, aware that the boy had not left and another was being led towards the garden by Elmyra. Stalking past the young man, she called back, "Aerith, come please?" In confusion, the girl in pink set her teacup down and scurried after Katy.
Aerith found Katy pacing inside the house once again, around and around the table, looking- not angry... determined. She had a rather stubborn set to her eyes rather suddenly, as if everything had come together for her. She knew she'd heard Katy say 'Destiny', but hadn't wanted to interrupt, and was rewarded by hearing further intelligible speech. A wild ride indeed. What was she planning then? Aerith got tired of watching Katy and took a seat at the table.
At last, Katy dashed upstairs and returned with her drawing notebook and pencil. Swiftly, she began sketching. First, Aerith's house was drawn, and Aerith and Katy shown leaving, Katy crossed out Aerith's house, drew an arrow towards a new somewhat nondescript house. "Move?" she asked softly. Hm, yes, it did seem wise with all the visitors lately. They were bound to get captured by Hojo anytime soon. She gave a nod of understanding. Katy nodded in return, then continued. This time, she drew the tower, Aerith, Katy, and Zack with an arrow into the tower. She drew a large can that had strange writing on it, and verbally, Katy labeled this can 'Jenova'.
A new paper was taken out which Katy laboriously drew on hogging view of it to herself for a long time before finally displaying it to Aerith. What she saw scared her. Hastily drawn seemed to be some frightening prophecy. Elmyra entered, looked over her shoulder at the paper, then blinked. "Oh my! Is she trying to say the world will be destroyed in five years?"
Looking up at her adopted mother, Aerith nodded, "I think so. She seemed so serious about saving Sephiroth- she knew he was going to go to Nibelheim- and that he wouldn't return. Mom, Katy and I need to go to some other place. All these people coming here is going to lead Hojo straight to us."
Elmyra paled, then nodded, "Yes. More than likely. I don't know who they are, and how they know where we live, but they always know our names. It's frightening."
Taking a breath, aware that Katy was using another paper up, Aerith spoke again, "She spoke again... She said ... She said Destiny. Destiny is like a rodeo and that she was going to ride it to the end. She said she'd failed Sephiroth, but she wasn't going to fail me." Her eyes looked down towards the paper again where one panel showed Aerith impaled upon Masamune. What a horrible way to die. Aerith wasn't too sure what situation she was in that would allow Sephiroth to do that, even after his apparent death, but it seemed to have something to do with that Jenova can.
At last Katy handed the second paper over. "What's this?" Elmyra asked, still looking over Aerith's shoulder. Frowning slightly, Aerith eyed the page. "Looks like... Me, Zack, Cloud, and Katy break into the Shinra Tower. We go up to ..." she counted, "Hojo's floor, we break into the Jenova can and ... That's a body!"
Katy reached over, pointing, "Jenova."
"Jenova's a woman?" Elmyra asked softly.
Aerith took a breath and pressed onwards. "We blow up most of the body- and Hojo's lab. We keep ... a foot, or hand? Or something I guess. Hard to tell with these stick figures. Then we go to- to Nibelheim I guess. Wait. No. The North Crater!" her eyes lifted towards Katy.
Elmyra was shaking her head, "I don't understand..."
In return, Aerith shook her head as well. "I don't either, but maybe... maybe it will. I don't want to die like that. Katy knew about Sephiroth's death, she knew and tried to stop it." She looked towards Katy who was waiting for some body language to know if Aerith understood the plan. "It looks like Sephiroth is supposed to come back- and Jenova too? I don't understand this, if we destroy this Jenova, how does she come back?" Aerith looked back towards Katy, who looked nervous. "I guess, I'll just have to put my faith in you..." swallowing, Aerith glanced down at the paper, then nodded, handing it back.
Katy gathered her papers, packed them away, then ran upstairs again, thumps and bangs ensued. "I'd better go pack too. Best start moving now..." Aerith swallowed again and started up the stairs.
