I don'town Final Fantasy. Now leave me alone! ;p
The snow covered her body. Wetness seeped into her dress as she blinked away warm tears. She desperately struggled to get up, to keep warm, to keep moving. She was almost there…she didn't walk all these way to die in the cold, open snow! Shaking, she struggled to stand on her feet, clad in brown leather boots. She felt more snow seep into them. She struggled through the thick snow a few more steps. The cold breeze chapped her skin, turning it bright pink. She stumbled, and feel back to her knees.
I can make it…I have to make it! She crawled desperately, fighting against unconsiousness. She lost the battle. Darkness overwhelmed her. The last thing she saw was white snow, everywhere…
The man was walking in the cold, his cloak pulled tightly around him, his red muffler covering his mouth and neck. The stars shone above him; the snowstorm had stopped almost an hour ago. However, the brittle cold still bit at his exposed skin. He didn't feel it. His thoughts rambled on in his mind, as they did always. He often walked at night like this, enjoying the solitude and peace. However, his thoughts shattered as he saw a fallen figure, dark in the snow. He cautiously made his way over. He was always cautious.
Upon reaching the figure, he saw it was a woman, half-covered and frozen in the snow. Her crystal brown hair was clumped and frozen in one piece, and he could see exposed skin through rips in her dress. Without muttering a word, the man picked the woman up, and wrapped his thick cloak around her chilled body. Carrying her in his arms, he headed back towards town.
Icicle Inn was dark, with few lights on for Vincent to see his way. Carefully, he walked on the snow-covered path to the small home to the west. Kicking the door open, he stepped into the light and warmth. He used his boot to close the door behind him, and made his way to the fireplace. His fire was still going, cracking and hissing against the cold air coming in. Gently, he set the woman down before the fire. He looked at her curiously.
It can't be her…but it certainly looks like her… He thought while removing his frozen cloak from her body. The woman was in poor shape. Her skin was an angry, chapped red, and her lips were a dark shade of purple. Her eyelids were dark as well. Without a word, Vincent began to gently peel of the tattered, frozen shards of her once pink dress. Carefully, with much effort, they became warm and separated from her cool skin. As he removed her scraps of clothing, he gently washed her body with hot water from a basin. Herskin began to take a more normal, pale color.However, she did not open her eyes. This worried Vincent.
After he had warmed her and bandaged any cuts and wounds she had, he dressed her in one of his long black t-shirts and sweaters, and covered her with his quilts, laying her on his large bed. Sitting next to her lifeless body, he pondered.
How can this be? I saw her die…with my own eyes. So did everyone else.
"Aerith…" He whispered to her, brows knit with confusion.