By the time she'd awoken, the children had already been dropped off and, she found out later much to her embarrassment, that the Grendels had been working for four hours already. Mrs. Grendel had tried to pacify Aerith, comforting her with the knowledge that one isn't born nor can they jump immediately into the baker's schedule; it would take time. Aerith still felt horrible about it, feeling as if she'd been lazing about when she should have been alongside them. So in order to make amends with the couple who weren't even upset, she'd offered to prepare them a light snack. Mrs. Grendel, of course, had refused, but she was elated when Mr. Grendel eagerly accepted.
Mrs. Grendel had politely asked if Aerith wouldn't mind making breakfast for Meredith since she'd be cooking anyway. How could she not when the child was what she was and just so adorable? Naturally, she had consented. Upon it, Mrs. Grendel had given her a basket of bread and instructed her to walk across the town 'square' of a circle to the second house from west of the gate facing the well. The left half of the bread was to be traded for a basket of eggs and the right half to the little old couple with the booth just beside the well for two bottles of milk; of which the son brought to market every morning.
Getting around the little trouble of directions, Aerith had found it pleasant to meet with all the new people and make conversation. But she had to quell her excitement for the sake of those waiting on her, and after explaining so to her new neighbors, made her way back with the bartered items. Meredith, sweet little thing that she was, had requested pancakes; somehow, Aerith hadn't been surprised in the least. But the answer the girl had given when Aerith inquired as to why she wanted them had been unexpected. It appears that Mr. Cloud could cook, quite well according to the child, but that he didn't make pancakes all that often. It had been a long time since he last had and Meredith missed them.
For Mr. Grendel, she had made an egg sandwich; two double-sided fried eggs topped by a slice of cured ham. She'd given herself and Meredith some scrambled egg because they need some kind of protein, she'd reasoned at the girl's complaint, along with the pancakes. She'd been shocked to see the girl only wanted butter on hers and even more so to learn that maple syrup was expensive and, therefore, rare. And so, she'd had to settle for butter and some strawberry preserves, sparingly. After breakfast, she'd cleaned up and went to check on baby Jonathon, having not heard any fuss all throughout the events. He was sleeping soundly and knowing that he'd let them all know when he was otherwise, she let him continue to. In the mean time, she would sit up front with Meredith, both attending to the customers who walked in.
Mrs. Grendel had taken a few minutes in between batches to show her the basics of their shop's operation. She'd written a list of names of the regulars and what they traded for bread. She'd also been shown where to tally up those who would be collected from at a later date and what and how much to accept from the occasionals. She'd been told that the days were busy enough, but hardly terribly so. And the amount of regulars that had come in the door so far had Aerith a bit woozy, but she gave blessings that the little girl was such a help.
Mrs. Grendel had also mentioned that they were going to be busy this week and especially so these next few days because of the approaching festival. Harvest's End was to be celebrated in three days and between all the members wanting to make specialties using bread, the regulars, and what the Grendels themselves were planning to supply, made for quite a load. The pace was so different from what she was used to back in Midgar that she greatly enjoyed getting lost in its rhythm and the refreshing change of routine it offered.
It wouldn't be until little Jonathon woke and interrupted that she would realize how much of the day had already passed. The first string of cries were no startling affair, surprisingly enough, and instead brought a welcome break. Aerith sat the latest tray of baked goods on a shelf, flour-dusted hands and forearms sending their essences into the air at slightly hurried motions, a wrist marking its path as it brushed sticking hair from her forehead to the beat of a sigh. Glancing at the little wooden clock with its hidden bird that struck the hour, she handed the last of the 'change' to the latest customer before excusing herself and seeking assurance from Meredith of her being "alright" to attend to the infant.
"Just after eleven," she whispered to herself, wiping her hands off on a towel before tucking it in her apron and reaching down for Jonathon. Lifting him up and cradling him in the slightest of rockings, she wondered aloud, "A bit late today, aren't we?"
It seemed the usual soft motion would not quell the child this time as his wailing didn't even hitch. She placed him to hang on her shoulder as she moved into the back room. Fetching the bottle a suspecting and ever-prepared Mrs. Grendel immediately handed her, she turned back and headed out the front door. It was a beautiful fall morning, not too cool but slightly warm, and she sat on the bench, positioning him for an outdoor feeding free from flour-coated air. While she didn't want to rush the baby, she didn't want to leave Meredith alone, either. And so she coaxed the bottle after some time into young Jonathon's not quite eager mouth, sighing in slightly frustrated relief when he finally accepted it.
Once the bottle was in, however, it seemed the infant was more than content to suckle; which he did with initial preoccupation, slowly increasing the pace and force with which he drew the milk. His face held her attention, the fat little cheeks and lips in motion, little busy slurping sounds and blinking eyes traveling intermittently over her face before sweeping out around the town in the limited vision from his cradle. She couldn't help the smile at his actions, its growth at the antics of arms moving in something just short of flailing as he reached for her amused face, those blue eyes so alert, quickly distracted by the hair falling over her shoulders. And as she restrained the emerging giggle into a simple shaking of body and tight-lipped smothered smile, she realized how much she loved children.
Her hair became more than a preoccupation and eventually replaced the bottle in Jonathon's priorities. She gently removed the bottle as it fell away from his mouth, using a fingertip to wipe the dribbling drops away. She continued to observe as his fingers struggled to grasp the hairs, chubby hands fisting the slippery substance and shoveling it into his mouth. A delicate finger gently rescued the curl from the little pink tongue and wet fingers.
"Now, now," she scolded him in good humor, "that's enough of that. Let's finish your bottle, hm?" She once again began the task of trying to insert the feeding instrument, softly rubbing the tip back and forth against his lips. But little Jonathon was not in the cooperating mood and she found out just how little he was as the eyebrows drew together, the lips down, and the mouth opening in the beginnings of a fit. She pushed her hair behind an ear before throwing a slightly exasperated look up ahead to the town square as a noisy choco-cart came clambering through.
"Oh, shh, shh," she soothed, leaning down to put her face next to his. "There's no need for that. See?" she said, wiggling the bottle in front of him. "It's not that bad. You liked it well enough, earlier…" But apparently what was before was not 'well enough' now and Jonathon had no intention of indulging her.
"Oh, please, Jonathon," she resorted to the soft plea in her growing frustration. "Drink your bottle."
There was suddenly a whoosh of air as the once pair of legs in front of her became shoulders and a head. A voice accompanied the hand that extracted a dirty finger to poke once at the infant's chest, limbs tan all the way up to where the half-rolled sleeves hid the rest from view. "Hey, there. What's the problem, little man? Still not big on eating?"
Aerith had drawn back and blinked at him, quite startled by his abrupt appearance, and she could only continue to do so as he glanced at her. "Mr. Strife."
"Sorry," he apologized looking briefly up into her eyes, lightest of blues seeing everything. "I think he may be coming down with something." He made a face at his son now that he had his attention. "He'd been fussy all night."
"Mm, not at all," she said a little distractedly, watching the interaction with the child, Jonathon's tears drying and hands grasping at his father's face. The thought hit her much too late and she kicked herself. "Did you want to hold him?" she began to shift in preparation for the hand over.
"Oh, no, I can't," he said hurriedly, standing, half-buttoned shirt flapping in the self-made air current. "I'm filthy and I don't want him to catch anything else." He threw a quick look over his shoulder, checking for the cart. "Besides, I need to be getting back to the field."
"I see," she said simply as she watched them both. "I was wondering if you always came into town midday. I didn't want to take your time from you," she smiled a bit unsurely.
"No, I just… The regular guy had a problem and they needed another to man the cart." Another look over the shoulder and Aerith bent to look around him. She could see the same rackety cart she'd heard and saw before driving through the center of town being unloaded. The last couple of bags and a bale were being thrown and rolled off it; probably into storage, she thought. "Besides, I kinda wanted to check on him. You saved me a lot of trouble being outside," he smiled lightly.
There was a clack of wheels on cobblestone and Cloud moved away, meeting her eyes one more time. "Thanks."
"Mm," she blinked back, watching as he made a hasty turn to the shrill whistle. He jogged back towards the cart, faltering as he paused to wave at a group of girls across the square who'd called his name. Slowing to pace himself, he grabbed hold of the cart as it passed and jumped up into the passenger seat, reclining as much as possible for the bumpy ride out to the fields.
She watched him as far as just outside the gate before turning back to a noticeably less upset Jonathon. Placing him back over her shoulder, she rose to her feet, shuffling the bottle to her open hand as the other supported the baby's rear.
"Excuse me," a semi-high female voice broke in.
Aerith jumped slightly, completely taken by surprise yet again at a woman now before her, so quiet in her approach was she. "Y-yes?" she squelched her alarm as best she could.
"You're new here, aren't you?" came the innocent question.
"Yes, I am," she replied turning around to face the other woman. Aerith allowed her eyes to take her in, roving over the fresh and prettily made up face; the rather nice dress with little pale purple flowers against a darker purple background; the small waist; the lady-like arms crossed before that waist, one from which a basket hung; light eyes to contrast her neatly fastened dark hair. She was very pretty, Aerith thought.
There was a slight look that couldn't quite be called a hesitation. "Are you with Mr. Strife, perhaps? I just happened to see him over here a moment ago as you were feeding little Jonathon," she nodded down to the baby still in Aerith's hold.
Aerith's eyes widened and she shook her head, bestowing a small smile to Jonathon before the lady across from her. "Oh, no. He just stopped by unexpectedly to see him," she indicated by lifting the child slightly.
"I see," she smiled as her eyes closed in false warmth she wished to convey to the new arrival. "Well, then, do you work here?"
"Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Grendel are allowing me to work while I stay with them. Did you need something?" Aerith inquired, anxious to keep the pleasant mood with the new acquaintance.
"Yes, please," the woman said with a nod, lifting the basket a fraction to catch Aerith's eyes.
"Then please follow me," she intoned, turning once again to the door and slipping in.
The other woman turned away for a moment as Aerith worked on the door, her hand rising to make a sharp motion across her throat in a negative indication. She didn't wait for the other girls to signal back, but instead followed the woman into the bakery.
There was much merry-making as the celebration was now in full swing. Children were scattered all about, playing whatever silly games they thought up on the spot mixed with many of the traditional ones that this time of the year brought. Those that weren't eating were busy with games of tag, blind-folded seeking, burying objects or each other in the hay strewn all about the floor, or diving into the piles in the corners. For the most part, the children were very much enjoying their playtime free of parental intervening.
Aerith's eyes were being drawn from all over the barn now filled with grains and vegetables in varying states of storage. The largest spaces possible were cleared in order to host the festival celebrations. There were the bundles of wheat already gathered against the south wall; there were barrels of potatoes and other especially hardy local tubers for surviving the long winter months. Squashes were piled up by groups in the one corner, close to the barrels and against a layer of grain to insulate the more susceptible vegetables. Still-bundled stalks of corn; sheared ears drying or waiting to be ground; in their own barrels all along the east wall; a kid or three in friendly competition to sit atop the containers.
Between the flamboyant actions of the playing children and the many patrons she was helping to serve at the tables littered with the numerous celebratory foods, the flashing skirts and spinning couples in the gay dancing taking place at the center of the barn kept stealing her attention. The entire village had to be here and it was a humbling thought. When was the last time anyone from Midgar had gathered this many close-knit people together? Before or after each individual town became a section number?
She noticed that there was an almost unusual concentration of younger girls and women in one corner. They were all very close together and whispering with moderately heated and anxious actions. A small point and push were issued in a direction and one was thrust from the cluster. Aerith watched as the girl smoothed the fabric over her backside and the front of her skirt before following a path across the room…to where she halted before Cloud.
The girl's clearly embarrassed posture of arms fighting from behind her in order to reappear clasped demurely in front was failing and she was having trouble bringing her eyes up to the man across from her. Aerith continued to look on as the small circling of men softened their laughter and collectively surveyed the exchange where it finally died into knowing smiles across all but the participants' faces. The former full grin across Cloud's sun-tanned face faded slightly into half as his attention and eyes locked onto the petite girl before him. Aerith could see the girl's lips moving and the nervous twisting of her body, Cloud's half grin still in place and intermittent blinking. There was a gentle smile alongside an equally gentle nod and he turned to set down the cup of local ale before rising. He gestured towards the other dancers with his right hand in a nonchalant flip and left it palm up where the girl shyly placed hers palm down. Aerith watched as his fingers curled with a strange impression of tenderness to wrap around the other and how his left hand settled at the small of her back in a follow-up to sweep them both off into the dancing crowd.
Aerith started as Mrs. Grendel moved up beside her and met her eyes in a brief unreadable glance before looking back to the flat warming stone between her heftily towel-padded hands, setting it down with a heavy plop. The items already on the solid wooden table gave off rattles and Aerith immediately began to help refill the bread baskets. Mrs. Grendel ignored Aerith's small jump and joined in distributing the breads. "I'm surprised he didn't get dragged in earlier," Mrs. Grendel said with sly out-of-corner glances, gauging the young woman.
"Hmm?" Aerith said, confusion evident in her features as she looked to her landlord.
Mrs. Grendel threw her head in one direction. "Mr. Strife," she said succinctly, again watching her from the side. "They - all the girls - are always out to be the one to dance with him the most…in the hopes of attracting some more serious attentions." Another look. "He's always been quite popular, but especially so since the disappearance of his wife. Some of the girls have become a little…vicious, so I want you to be careful." A quite pointed and warning look, here. "Even if you've no intentions."
"Ah! No!" Aerith brought her hands before her defensively, waving them in embarrassment. "I've none!" Mrs. Grendel laughed heartily and loudly and Aerith looked around to see whose attention had been gathered, her blush deepening dramatically.
"Alright, dear. But I still want you to be careful," she said seriously. "Some are getting a bit desperate as the time grows greater and there are a few that can be quite cruel. So come to me if any of the girls start giving you a hard time, even if you don't know why they are. But," she sighed, not quite wistfully but definitely with a touch of something as she looked back out to the dancers, "at least this isn't as bad as the birthday celebrations."
Aerith nodded her understanding. And as Mrs. Grendel lifted the now empty stone and turned to go, Aerith hastily reached out a hand and laid it upon the closest arm. "About that," she spoke softly, carefully as she treaded in unfamiliar territory. "What happened, exactly, with Mrs. Strife?"
The older woman's face fell briefly before re-schooling somewhat, though Aerith could still see the sadness and confusion the other woman let through. "No one's really sure. Cloud had woken up one morning and found her to be gone. I…think there was some sort of note 'cause of his certainty." She shook her head. "The poor dear was so distraught. And for the longest time afterwards, too. It's still hard for him to talk about it even nine months later."
"And the birthday 'celebrations?'" Aerith asked, truly curious but sombered by the earlier revelation.
"Ah!" the woman said, fond remembrance clear in her unfocused eyes. "We group together all the birthdays and have a party to celebrate them all at once at the end of the season for those affected." Mrs. Grendel nodded, bemused. "Oh, they never let him sit once the music'd started! Hah!"
She was tempted to ask how old he was but Mrs. Grendel looked into Aerith's eyes and shrugged slightly before continuing back towards the kitchen. "Get out from behind that table and enjoy yourself, dear! It's a self-serve, not a be-waited-on-by-cute-girl!" she parted with the command that sounded more like a threat.
Aerith smiled distractedly at it, her thoughts heavier and working on the new information as she absentmindedly served and chatted with the next few people. It seemed some of the dancers were taking a break and using it to fill up with the energy overdosing food. The few people became a small line but she helped those before her inattentively if they needed it. She'd been drifting, she wished she could say into thought, and her daydreaming gaze focused on the non-moving obstacle on the other side of the table that everyone was going around.
Realizing he was in the way, Cloud scooted around to the end of the table and stood just behind the back corner, allowing for the smoother line flow. He glanced briefly to her before returning to the sudden flurry of visitors, watching as they grabbed what they wanted and at the children darting in between large-bodied adults then away again, moving on. "So," he said looking across the table at the patrons after a glance, not at all insecure, "what are you doing over here?"
She blinked at him, answering straightforwardly, "I was just helping out where I could."
He let out a short astonished laugh, "It's a party." A disbelieving look was directed at her. "Do you always do that sort of thing when it's not needed?" There was a teasing tone underneath the words but for someone who didn't know her to have picked up on the fault everyone else criticized her on kind of, well, stung.
"No, I…just wanted to make sure everyone's work on such lovely food didn't go to waste and-and that the children could get what they wanted…if they couldn't reach." She stopped herself from fidgeting.
"Well," he indulged her, almost completely wiping the smile from his features, "have you ate least eaten some of this much-loved food?"
She shook her head, feeling the slight flush of reprimanded hypocrisy. "I've not had much of an appetite."
He'd been feeling the need to pay her back for all the care she's showered on his children and that need had kept surging every time he'd caught a glimpse of her tonight. He wasn't sure why he thought the offer in mind was any type of repayment but he suspected it had something to do with his general dislike of the activity due to the reason behind the many attentions he received for it. He realized that the significance of the 'privilege' would be lost on someone not aware of the undertow he carried here, but he wanted to make sure she had at least some fun. "Well, then," he said moving closer to her, "let's go work one up for you."
Aerith's eyes shot open wide and she tried to tell him she was fine as he first singled to the dance square and then placed a gentle hand on her arm that gave firm direction when she protested. He'd get her out from behind there and involved either until she confessed hunger or until her legs could no longer support her.
He hadn't been able to hold on to her for long once he'd gotten her out to the dancing floor. It seemed many were anxious to get close and get to know the new girl. It was for the better, though, getting her to shed her shell and mingle, but he lamented the side effect of his sudden availability for dancing. Didn't they get it that he wasn't available, wasn't interested? Yet still they came after him. He thought for sure the difference in age would put them at a distance but apparently it didn't. It sure gave him pause when he thought about all the implications.
Thankfully, he managed to disentangle himself relatively early from each of his 'pursuers' and was spared any prolonged discomfort. This was an ongoing problem, however, and he knew it would not end tonight. Rather, it would only brew and escalate until the next celebration where those who fester with something more sinister would release their bided time, plans, and actions upon him. Why can't they just see and accept that he was taken already? But this was every bit as pointless now as it had been the first time he'd held this mental argument.
He sighed, again settling in among the men and brought his previously abandoned mug up for a drink. He focused in on the guys around him, listening to the latest story with mild interest. The stein was pulled away in time to laugh for the ensuing joke at the teller's expense, thumb and tongue removing the traces of brew from his lips. Regild usually had some pretty good stories and old man Heimstich next to him always had some good dirt on all the 'bests', including Regild.
He really liked old man Heimstich. He was the oldest villager, a true Nibelheim native, and the last speaker of the regional indian tongue. They often met and talked. It allowed Cloud to keep his language skill up and he looked forward to them, for the most part. The talks were often eclectic, ranging from everyday happenings and events, seasonal troubles, recent occurrences, or Heim's favorite, nostalgia.
Cloud himself didn't much mind nostalgia, at least, when it was of his childhood or before it. Heim had been there since before he was born and remembered his mother, had liked her quite a bit as he frequently said. But when it turned to Cloud's personal matters, then he quite disliked nostalgia. Oh, he didn't mind talking about his children, he loved them so, but Heim often turned to the issue with his wife and he hated talking about it. Heim would always tell him what he didn't want to hear, no matter how sensible and correct the old man was. He wouldn't move on because she hadn't left him, she just needed a break, he was sure. He was still married.
The song ended with an announcement of the band breaking for rest and there was a rush of dancers and musicians alike to the banquet as the backup band set up. He spotted Aerith among them. He observed as she first sat on one of the hay bales, fanning herself with a hand and holding her hair off her neck. She half turned to answer some question directed at her by another in line, smiling and waving them off. She stood and joined those going through, picking up a plate for her self but then handing it to the shorter child behind her.
He put his glass down solidly and excused himself, standing and walking with purpose. He knew her type. He had to stop her now before it became a problem. He slipped in between her and the next adult behind after she let the kids jump ahead and placed his hand firmly on her forearm, stopping her mid-motion of handing off yet another plate.
He met her wide eyes. "What do you want?"
She blinked up at him. "Just to help," was her quiet reply.
He tried to keep the wry amusement from quirking his mouth too much or keeping his eyes shut too long and forced his head back to her. "To eat."
She molded her lips into a firmer press as her eyebrows dropped a little in slight irritation. "I haven't much of an appetite, thank you."
His mouth dropped and blue eyes widened. Not hungry after being out there for so long? "Come on," he said, setting her plate down for her which caused him to be on the receiving end of a rather sharp and questioning look. "We've a lot of dancing to do yet, then." And he drug her out once again.
He made sure to hold on to her this round, that way he'd know when she couldn't take another step. They danced through several kinds of the local styles and those she hadn't picked up earlier in the night he showed her. A couple of the dances called for switching of partners but he made sure he got her back in the end. It was amusing to watch her adjust to the new steps, but he found his enjoyment increasing as hers did and before long, she was smiling back. It was tentatively at first as she was still a bit upset with his interference, but the wider his grew the more sincere hers became.
He sat down in a heavy huff, a bit winded from all the extended exertion. He'd finally taken pity and allowed her out when she'd given up protesting to any more dancing and instead stepped on his feet, riding out the last slower song. His hands were on his spread knees as he fanned out his arms, keeping the air from stagnating in a too hot and humid bubble around him, he trying to fully catch his breath. It was almost back to normal and the heavier breathing was subsiding as he made sure the girl was getting food for herself only.
A heavy child plopped itself against him from in between opened legs and he looked down to see that it was his own. A very clearly tired Meredith was trying to hug and crawl onto him as much as her sluggish body would allow. "What is it, honey?" he said with caring, aware of Aerith sitting on the bale next to him.
"I'm tired," the girl said as she blinked up to him, a weary fist rubbing at a drowsy eye as the other lethargic arm pulled Boco closer. "I wanna go home," she mumbled as she again tried to climb up into his lap.
Cloud let her and helped her the rest of the way up, cradling her bottom with his right arm. She threw her head immediately down against his shoulder and her hand around his neck. Boco was sandwiched between his chest and her body as the free hand clawed softly into the part of his shirt beside his throat. She turned her face and nuzzled into his neck, murmuring incoherent sleepy talk.
"I know, honey," he soothed with a hand rubbing her back gently. He rubbed his nose against her cheek. "It's probably way past your bedtime."
He held her tighter to him and stood. Looking down to see Aerith watching him, he explained, "I'm gonna run her over to the sitter for the night. I'll be back in a short while so take your time eating."
Before he could take his second step, she questioned, "The sitter?"
He turned to face her. "Yes. There are usually two to three villagers who volunteer to look after those too young to participate in the festivities and to take in the younger ones when it gets late." He half smiled between Aerith and Meredith. "It'll only take a few minutes, but I plan on returning. Don't feel any need to wait for me, though. Have some fun, eh? And enjoy your meal," he smiled at her before continuing on.
Aerith waved lightly with her have eaten carrot stick as he departed, chewing only slightly hindering her smile. 'This food was so good!' she thought, although she wondered just how much taste was attributed to hunger. That aside, she knew the cooking would hold its own.
The mornings and nights were beginning to get chilly now and Cloud pulled his daughter closer, turning her jacket's collar to better cover her neck. The night-time mist of the mountains was already descending and beginning to settle over the cobblestone in a thickening transparent blanket. While the stones were wet they were not slick, but he was cautious lest he send them both tumbling.
He crossed the well zone easily enough and stepped up to the volunteer's house with whom he'd left Jonathon and Meredith's things for the night's stay. The woman happily greeted him and Meredith through her slight fatigue and he gently transferred the sleeping child over to softer arms. There was very little small talk before they bid each other good night and he made to return to the barn. He would pick up the children in the morning.
There was no hurry in getting back. He took his time and proceeded through the square. His hands were inside his pockets up until the start of the palm, the little pouches designed only to hold small work related items. Most of his pants didn't even have pockets for the commodity of leather that was going to waste. His blacksmithing ones had none at all, although they were double lined in the front for added protection even under the heavy rough hide apron. He looked up to peer at what stars were visible, thinking how they were so much clearer – purer - here than in Midgar.
A sound pulled his head from the sky and he slowed, turning his gaze on a dark walkway between one of the storage barns and another building. He thought it had sounded like shoes scuffing on the cobble and he saw what looked like an overcoat flap spinning back away into the darkness. He stopped, eyebrows straightening in concerned curiosity as he stared into the area. Even with his sight he was unable to see. He suspected the person had ducked behind the building and he was unable to see through that.
He was pretty sure it was a female, judging by what he'd seen of the coat, but he could be wrong. At least, he hoped it wasn't a male. He tore his eyes from the spot, intent on continuing his walk, when the figure re-emerged. They gave a cautious look around the town before the hood focused ahead and signaled him closer. Cloud gave his own cursory glance, instincts long ago honed from a paranoid life to scout out a would-be trap. Seeing nothing, he proceeded forward at another insistent motion from the person.
Definitely female, he noticed, as he stepped into the alleyway and catching a closer look at delicate hands and stature. She lured him farther back until the two street lamps no longer cast any light directly on them. It was then that she pulled down her hood. They may have been out of immediate light but enough bounced around to clearly see the other's face and his eyes widened in horror.
Shit. He did not want to be alone with this woman. Often one of the quieter ones of the group, she was no less conniving than its leader. Miss Scarlet Bringham's circle was well known to both him and the majority of the town for their 'aspirations' regarding his presumed available self. Never the less, being alone with all or one was equally dangerous. He had to get out of here quickly before the rumors to fly would turn completely inappropriate. Miss Sara before him had undoubtedly absorbed some of Miss Scarlet's shrewdness. Distantly, he wondered if the name 'Scarlet' meant the person automatically inherited a role of scheming. It certainly proved so with the two he knew.
"Miss Churchill," he said almost testily, she slipping past him to check the square again, "are you in some form of distress that you require help?" He wanted to give her the benefit of doubt but that wasn't to say he trusted her. She doubled back after not seeing anything and he backed up as she got a little too close.
"Yes," she said quietly to prevent being over heard. "The girls would surely murder me if they discovered I'd met with you in seclusion." Her eyes were wide but he could not tell in what emotion. He did not feel any irrational fear from her, only wariness and that first little warning began in his stomach; something wasn't quite right.
He looked around the alley again and started towards where he'd entered only to have them drawn back to Miss Churchill at her movement. She stepped closer and he backwards once more, but she came until his back hit the stone of the one building's wall. Her hands were clasped before her chest and she leaned forward in what he thought was honest earnestness. "Please," she whispered, lips pursed and full from youth and makeup. "I need to ask apart from the others your thoughts."
He nodded an indication to continue. Even though it would be little work to get away from her physically, he still felt as if he were trapped. "Please," she implored again in a way that was so much softer than volume. While her tone blunted that fact, the double use of the word had not gone unnoticed. He was all ready to hear her out and help but when she placed a hand on his chest he shut down. His brows and lids dropped as his face tightened, lips firming and turning downwards at the corners. He should have known.
"Isn't there any of my friends - even one - that has a chance?" So she wasn't going to pretend he knew not of what she was speaking. "Any in this town that you would take for a wife?"
"I have a wife," he ground out.
"But what kind of wife leaves such a good husband - a perfect man – for almost one year with no word?" She cooed, still in that quiet whisper, her voice completely devoid of any malice or other ill intents one might expect from such talk. The inquiry was pure. He had no answer for that and instead turned his head away from that face to watch the now-fog float and stir in the square.
The hand never lifted from him but delicate fingertips brushed against the broad cheek and jaw paled by light bouncing off vapor and he moved his head to dislodge her. She'd made no sound but the fingers did withdraw. The hand against his chest splayed. "Your children need a mother, Mr. Strife."
The comment drew his attention sharply and looked to her, nothing moving but his eyes. His gaze narrowed, his voice about as frosty as the night air, "Yes, they do." He was watching her oh, so very carefully, now. "However, I have yet to see such motherly actions directed towards my children from you or your friends."
He was aware that that information would be forwarded on and that conscious effort would now be given to fulfill it. He supposed he probably shouldn't have said that. "There's only been one who's shown such care and it hasn't been Mrs. Grendel." Not even he could identify what was in his voice there.
"That girl you were dancing with for so long tonight, hmm?" she almost hummed. "The new one?"
"Don't get any ideas," he said coldly, deliberately protecting Aerith from any reparations. While the phrase was vague, it covered all the angles he was concerned about, and he knew how vicious the girls could get.
"You've nothing to fear from me," Miss Churchill whispered putting her hand in motion. "It should be an honest battle with natural qualities. But I feel I should caution you, Mr. Strife, that some of the other girls won't be so cordial." How did she keep her voice so platonic when saying such things? She lacked his training and experience but he had to admit her control was professional. Was she really just sincere?
Her hand hadn't ceased in its journey and was now going over his midsection. He straightened against the wall, a disapproving grunt was released. He put his own arm closer in preparation of removing her if she would not oblige. "Miss Churchill, if you would please remove your hand…"
She straight out ignored him, Cloud decided, as her flattened palm slid along his lower abdomen, her fingers playing with the laces of his pants as they passed over. "There are so many willing to please you if you would just give them the opportunity," she tilted her head upwards to breath into his face, punctuating with a firm squeeze between his legs.
That immediately put him into action and his hand seized hers, roughly jerking it away from the offended territory. "Miss Churchill!" he hissed, a mix of horrified shock and anger initiating a series of quick breaths. He threw her hand away from his and tried to regain some dignity before speaking again, standing at full height. "You girls are much too young, so young that you wouldn't be able understand or cope well."
"Most of us are of an age to be married." Finally some uncontrolled emotion was entering her voice. "And we are not so immature that we could not adjust!" He grinned and shook his head in ironic amusement. The fact that she did not comprehend what he had said spoke volumes.
"Miss Churchill," he began indulgently, "it is apparent that your lack of understanding of what had just been stated makes it clear that you are not prepared for the type of marriage I require. That is to say if I were available," he added when it looked like she might protest. "Which I am not."
He then pulled away from her and stepped from the dark walkway, stopping to look over his shoulder when she spoke up again. "But if you would at least pick some one, get married again, then we would all back off!" There was undisguised desperation this time. "Well, most of us," she amended.
He grinned bitterly at his feet. Even she recognized some would cease not there and he wondered how many of her little group of friends that included. He was all the more wary around Miss Scarlet because of the double threat associated with her, her mother. It was a competition between them of who could get him first. On certain terms, it frightened him. Who knew what they might do to 'win'? All the skill and materia in the world wouldn't help if they teamed up against him. Mrs. Bringham flirted and propositioned him quite openly as it was and he certainly didn't need the combined subterfuge of Miss Bringham to trap him.
"Good night, Miss Churchill." He didn't even make eye contact with her as he turned his head, simply throwing the parting over his shoulder before getting back to the festival.
Aerith was quite enjoying the much too delicious food. She couldn't seem to get it down fast enough without losing all characteristics of politeness. Because of that she was just about done with this plate already and set to go for more. She reluctantly admitted to herself that Mr. Strife may have been justified in kidnapping her to dance until death. She would have been sorely disappointed to have known she had missed such wonderful food. She finished off the last bit of dip with a last strip of potato in relish, thinking what she wanted to try next or get again before shadow blanketed her.
"Good evening, Miss Gainsborough, was it?" said a decidedly snippy and distant voice.
Aerith turned towards the voice with wide eyes, smiling and waving at the young woman she recognized from their meeting in front of the bakery several days ago. "Why hello, there, Miss Scarlet," Aerith beamed, waving and greeting the girls behind her. There was a sudden cloud as the other girls traded looks among each other at the addressing.
"I'm sorry," Aerith said politely. "Did I say something wrong?"
Scarlet stuck her face up in a dignified manner and explained to the ignorant woman, "You will address me as 'Miss Bringham', please. First names are reserved for more…intimate acquaintances," she said with a side look to her friends.
"I'm sorry. Miss Bringham, then." She smiled again, although a bit more subdued at being corrected. "Is there anything I could help you with?"
'Oooo!' Scarlet mentally seethed, wanting to tell her just exactly how she "could help". But instead, she kept the anger locked away in her thoughts and carefully out of her voice, making sure nothing would leak before she spoke.
"Yes, actually," she said with a sly hooded glance to her friends. "We couldn't…help but observe how long you and Mr. Strife danced tonight," she paused lightly. "Are you two…close?"
"Oh, no, not at all," Aerith answered with a widening smile. "I just watch his children during the day."
Scarlet's hand flew to her chest as it constricted, her throat collapsing and breath failing. The hand rose and fell in dainty little pats just above the amply supported bust in attempts to process the information and do her best not to look compromised. Her fine dress was suddenly too small and she felt as if she might suffocate.
"I see," Scarlet said cryptically. The little tramp was already onto his children! Damn, this was going to be a lot harder than she or the others thought or feared. Damn it! Did that mean the woman was often at his house? Was she continually in Mr. Strife's presence? Did she frequent his thoughts? Or worst yet, his bed? Oh, she thought she would faint!
"Miss Bringham, ladies," the subject's male voice said from just behind them. They turned in more than slight surprise to see the man they were warring over having approached them without being heard, easy enough in this environment. "Miss Aerith," he nodded.
He was pleased to see a wide-eyed Scarlet hastily try to gather her wits, so shocked at his being there. He knew how they worked and he wasn't about to let them corner someone so completely naïve of their little vicious game. Hopefully, Miss Churchill would spread the discouraging message along to the rest of the groupies before him. He gave a super brief look-over of Miss Bringham, noting her dress and that of her friends and called her on it.
"Have you done much dancing tonight, Miss Bringham?"
Scarlet immediately flushed deeply and brought her fingers in flattered embarrassment to her face, wishing desperately for a fan to hide it. He almost felt it too cruel to be making her think he was going to ask her. But when he thought about what she had done to other village females, what she was still most likely going to do to Aerith, – he realized he probably just delayed it – and what her goal was, he didn't.
"Must be awfully difficult in such fine attire," he smiled lightly, fighting to keep it from evolving into a self-satisfied grin as hers fell. "But I'm sure with your attributes you'd manage superbly. Will you be joining us?" he signaled to the open hay bales on either side of Aerith.
"Oh, no thank you, Mr. Strife," she said sweetly. "I was only catching up with Miss Gainsborough from the other day and introducing her to my friends," she motioned daintily with a gloved hand backwards. "We were about to be on our way. Good night, Mr. Strife," she bowed, the other girls in suit, before all walked away.
He released a heavy sigh and let his mask fall, watching them proceed a ways before falling onto a bale across from Aerith. He took a deep breath and looked her in the face, leaning forward with elbows on knees. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, fine. Why do you ask?"
She was clearly puzzled and he could see that openly in her expression. He looked down past clasped hands to his feet, speaking to them. "It's just that their intentions…are less than wholesome."
She shook her head at him in confusion. "I don't know what you mean."
"That's good, then," he continued, still talking to the floor. "You will soon enough." Aerith's brows drew together, digesting the warning.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his face lifting to meet hers, features pinched. "It's about me, over me. I…feel you should be warned. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked when she hadn't asked anything right away.
"Yes, I am, except for an empty plate," she jested, waving it in the air.
He laughed. He turned to watch the dancers, still resting on bent elbows and trying to make himself as small as possible. "Good. Then I won't keep you from any more food."
"Oh, you're not keeping me," she giggled, throwing a playful punch at his nearest arm. "Ooo!" She had given a semi-hiss and his face queried with its features. "You've got a pretty hard arm there." Aerith grinned at him, closing one eye for the playful mood. He laughed again, louder than before in its complete unbidden nature and looked between her and his feet.
"Yeah," he rolled back on the bale, arms straight and hands on knees keeping him from rolling off it. "That's because I work." It was amazing how openly he was grinning at her tonight, and especially after these latest happenings. She just had that all encompassing persona.
"So," she teased, leaning forward a bit after licking the last bit of residue swiped from the plate off her finger. One leg was over the other and her crossed arms dangled the clean dish over the floor, "what kind of work do you do?"
He smiled broadly and gave her credit. He glanced at the floor and back to her as he considered. Seeing no real reason not to and wanting to help her adjust to life here in Nibelheim, he decided to explain the way things went. But first… "Tell you what. I need a beer and your plate there is sorely empty. What say you go load up and I grab a coupla drinks?"
End.
HAH. Oh em gee. Going on 19 pages, baby! Jeez, this was so long (longest freaking chapter yet in anything I've written!) but there was just so much I wanted to say in this chapter. Actually more was in store but I've decided to cut it for incorporation into the third chapter. Still no idea how long this is going to be but it's looking like it might exceed Need Me, Need You. T.T That is both good and bad. While I want to say everything I think needs to be said, it just takes so much time to write! Well, another chapter down! I know only a couple questions were answered and many more were raised, but I don't want to spoil any heavy clues yet. :P
Hope it was enjoyed!
PS: Just a small note as to the context of Nibelheim vs. Midgar and the world. Nibelheim is a place that is not technologically advanced like Midgar, obviously. Instead, think of them as a type of folk village; one that still practices native and traditional activities. In fact, they rely heavily on their own makings, crafts and crops, to survive. Crops only to sustain those living in the village and trades/crafts for the same; some unique produce/livestock and items the town is renowned for for exporting.
Religion tends to follow traditional of lesser gods, many spirits, folk tales; it is not a major part of their lives, however, and they do not devote themselves to any sort of worship. This is not to say that they are agnostic, it simply says they do not worry about that sort of thing.