Aeris – Acceptance, bitter
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She found him sitting by the riverside not far from their camp; he sat in manner that spoke of inner misery –knees tucked close to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, head laid wearily upon his knees. Knowing he needed isolation, knowing that even now he walked inner dark paths, she stopped where she was and remained silent, fighting her own internal war with herself, torn between wanting to comfort and realizing that the best way for her to aid would be to turn right around …
But she couldn't.
So she stayed, a motionless figure against a meadow of vibrant flowers; the pink of her long dress fluttering gently on an ever increasing breeze. Leaving wasn't an option anymore, because things were different now, and they had been different since that night in the Gold Saucer. It was a change so subtle as to be missed by most; the differences were in glances exchanged, in secretive smiles meant only for each other, in words spoken with a different intonation and a deeper, almost indiscernible meaning. It wasn't meant to be, she knew with bitter absolution, and it never had been. But for now she would lock all predetermination aside and focus on what mattered in the here and now.
It was all she really had.
And so she told herself that the tears that welled and slipped hotly, slowly from her eyes were induced by the strengthening wind, and that the constricting tightness she felt knot deep in her chest was just anxiety at what the morrow would bring. When across the meadow he suddenly raised his head to stare unseeing at something in the distance, she tried not to notice how much he resembled a broken marionette, slumped upon itself because the strings that supported it, the wires of a life spent, had been cruelly severed. Silently she willed him to stand, to move with of his own volition towards her, to acknowledge what they both knew was true but for separate reason were afraid to voice …
His head lowered again, a slow movement of defeat, of submission, and she whirled around then in order to stem the sorrow that was steadily threatening to consume her. Their roles were irreversible –this she already knew. He was destined to be the servant, the puppet …
... And she to be the sacrifice.
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