[ A little weird, she says, and Aerith notes that she disagrees in her mind. Despite this, the words never come. It’s overcome by something else, a bubbling, churning notion of surprise— she knows there’s no way, simply put, that Oriphi could be like her. She knows, just like she knows with Trahearne, that it’s impossible. This, however, is a little much for her.
Her hand raises to her chest, and she smiles in a way that is at once both sympathetic and curious. Does she dare? She’s spent much of her life dancing with loneliness, the sense of emptiness that can only come from being the very last. Isolated, afraid… ]
That so? You won’t mind if I ask for you then, now, would you?
[ Perhaps Ori will think nothing of it. Perhaps it is just that— nothing. To Aerith, however, it means the world. ]
no subject
Her hand raises to her chest, and she smiles in a way that is at once both sympathetic and curious. Does she dare? She’s spent much of her life dancing with loneliness, the sense of emptiness that can only come from being the very last. Isolated, afraid… ]
That so? You won’t mind if I ask for you then, now, would you?
[ Perhaps Ori will think nothing of it. Perhaps it is just that— nothing. To Aerith, however, it means the world. ]