[ It rolls down like this: Aerith has a wandering mind, a need to get what she wants, and universally speaking, has a type. It's people who know their way around a sword, who know how to make the clash of steel sound melodic— and it helps a lot when they banter and tease with her, too. (Maybe it's a piece of herself that never quite healed from a childhood in captivity. The sound of another's voice is heavenly, to that regard.)
Sidequests are no problem for her, so in the early days of the month, she goes on one looking for a woman named Andy. It turns out that, a bit unsurprisingly truthfully speaking, her savior that night had been a high ranking figure within Enma, among the Lost Souls, and a few of the people she asks pucker their lips in a way that makes her wonder if they pity her or not. It only heightens the mystique around the woman, and she casually tilts her head this way and that way as she listens to people speak about where you could find her.
Aerith decides to wait along a patrol route. It seems the most likely at some point— a woman with a sword who leaps into action to save a perfect stranger is going to pick up her stuff and go hunting if it kills her, she thinks. She can hunt all she wants: The woman she'll find is a familiar sight, wanting half under recently re-installed sodium lights and nightfall shadows. She's got a look on her face like she's ready to be Andy's problem for the rest of the day, or evening, or however long she'll have her.
When she swivels at the hip, Andy may get the immediate hint of Aerith's intention: she's traded her old pink dress for a new pink dress, left the jacket at home, and replaced her heavy soled boots for lace ribbon sandals. A wrap-around, dusty pink dress adorns her, just flowy enough for the fabric to sway in the wind. It cuts off at the thighs— a strategic decision for summer heat only, surely. Maybe. ]
Well, well! [ Aerith crosses the distance, coming out of the shadows to show she's got a little wicker basket on her arm, only a scant few flowers remaining inside. Her voice is a tease, the smile mischievous— she's definitely someone who likes to get her way. ] Look what the cat dragged in. What are the chances of me finding you here!
[ Hands on her hips, she leans forward, and beams. ]
sapphism ... early july lets say
Sidequests are no problem for her, so in the early days of the month, she goes on one looking for a woman named Andy. It turns out that, a bit unsurprisingly truthfully speaking, her savior that night had been a high ranking figure within Enma, among the Lost Souls, and a few of the people she asks pucker their lips in a way that makes her wonder if they pity her or not. It only heightens the mystique around the woman, and she casually tilts her head this way and that way as she listens to people speak about where you could find her.
Aerith decides to wait along a patrol route. It seems the most likely at some point— a woman with a sword who leaps into action to save a perfect stranger is going to pick up her stuff and go hunting if it kills her, she thinks. She can hunt all she wants: The woman she'll find is a familiar sight, wanting half under recently re-installed sodium lights and nightfall shadows. She's got a look on her face like she's ready to be Andy's problem for the rest of the day, or evening, or however long she'll have her.
When she swivels at the hip, Andy may get the immediate hint of Aerith's intention: she's traded her old pink dress for a new pink dress, left the jacket at home, and replaced her heavy soled boots for lace ribbon sandals. A wrap-around, dusty pink dress adorns her, just flowy enough for the fabric to sway in the wind. It cuts off at the thighs— a strategic decision for summer heat only, surely. Maybe. ]
Well, well! [ Aerith crosses the distance, coming out of the shadows to show she's got a little wicker basket on her arm, only a scant few flowers remaining inside. Her voice is a tease, the smile mischievous— she's definitely someone who likes to get her way. ] Look what the cat dragged in. What are the chances of me finding you here!
[ Hands on her hips, she leans forward, and beams. ]
Miss me?