Aerith || Barren Morrows #3
Content: Genesis & Aerith, no warnings here
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Genesis' eyes fluttered open, squinting against the stream of light coming in from a nearby window. Over him stood the flower girl, her eyes big and green and an easy smile spread over her face. It took a moment to feel himself again, for his mind to acknowledge the presence of his body. He felt warm all over, the kind that was neither so hot that it summoned sweat nor cold enough that it left more to be desired. He felt himself sinking against something, something soft. A bed, he was in a bed. A real bed, not the firm, uncomfortable slab within R&D. And the light his eyes adjusted against wasn't artificial. Sunlight, then? No, it didn't have the same warmth, but it was softer than the stark lights which illuminated the streets of Midgar. There was a pleasant sound upon his ears, one he'd not heard in a long while. The faint chittering of birds outside.
He took notice of the room's meager but very pleasant furnishings. A small, leather sofa off to one side, an unused desk, a few unpacked boxes. Despite how unfinished it appeared, there was still a rustic homeliness to it. For a brief moment, he felt like he was back home.
Genesis adjusted himself against the mattress in an attempt to jog his muscles, get his body moving to work off the heaviness of sleep. His vision was steady now. He looked to the flower girl, who waited patiently at his side.
"Where...am I?" Genesis realized now that his arms were folded over his chest, cradling his copy of Loveless.
The girl strolled about the room, along the wood paneled floor, with her hands held behind her back.
"You passed out in Sector 8. I asked someone to carry you here. This...is my house. Well, my mother's."
Genesis held his head in his hands, a useless but instinctive attempt to soothe the throbbing at the base of his skull. He remembered Sector 8, the Loveless sign, the flower girl and her basket of yellow flowers. It was evening then, but, from the light coming in through the window and singing of birds outside, it must've been the following day. Morning. His heart jolted against his chest, he'd intended to return to headquarters by midnight. Hollander was likely already searching for him now, Angeal too. Sephiroth would be of minor concern since he'd been sent out the week prior. He could only hope the Turks hadn't been alerted yet--he could hang on to that, considering attention on his condition was the last thing Hollander wanted. He wasn't even certain if Hojo was aware. In any case, he needed to return to HQ. Fast.
Genesis groaned as he pulled himself into an upright position, bracing against the bed to stand. He took note of the structure of its frame. Wood, and it creaked authentically from the weight of his body against it as he stood. His legs felt heavy and stiff; he would have to walk it off. His shoulder throbbed still, but the intensity had returned, the sharpness of it. He felt it growing as the numbness of sleep wore off. Another mako infusion would be desperately needed by the time he made it out of here.
"Are you feeling better?" The girl stepped forward, raising her hands as if to usher him back into bed. "Maybe you should rest a bit longer."
"I really should be going--but thank you. I appreciate your kindness."
Genesis tried a smile, but it was too obvious he was in a hurry to get out of here. The girl stepped aside, emerald eyes falling quickly as her smile.
"Oh. It's no problem. I guess you have somewhere to be?"
"I do." A matter of fact, but Genesis did his best to make it clear he was sympathetic. She wanted conversation, clearly, but he couldn't spare the time.
He pulled against his healthy shoulder, some attempt to stretch the rigidness out of it. Turning to the window as he did, he then saw that he was in no ordinary place. No, he couldn't possibly be in Midgar at all. Outside of the window was a meadow of lush and green, healthy grasses, spotted with circlings of multi-colored flowers and flanked by the steady rush of a waterfall untainted by pollution. Everything seemed to be glowing, especially the waterfall and the waters it flowed into--the source of the light streaming in. He paused halfway across the room, staring out at the scene. It was beautiful, wondrous, and impossible. It truly was like he was home again.
The girl appeared beside him, smile returning to her face. She stared out the window, the pale blue light tinting her eyes towards a jadish green.
"I told you. It's my mother's house."
"Yes, but--I mean, where? This isn't Midgar."
"It is. We're in Sector 5, below the plate."
"Below the plate? The slums?"
The girl gave a nod. "Is that a problem? I really don't have anywhere else, besides, well..."
Genesis shook his head. Still working through the awe of the scene before him and the faint melancholy of distant nostalgia. In those days he felt so carefree and light, airy as the flowers blowing in the calm winds below.
"No, it's beautiful. I'd never imagined such a thing could exist here."
Genesis and the girl stood by the window for several moments, each taking in the lights, the colors, and the sounds. The wholeness and resiliency of nature in hostile Midgar. The sun didn't reach here, but still Genesis was certain now that he felt some warmth from the cool light. The girl looked up at him, staring for a moment before she spoke.
"I guess you have to leave now...?"
"No worries, it's just...Well, my mother is making breakfast, if you can stay a bit longer."
Genesis sighed and pulled himself away from the window. Breakfast against a backdrop enough to make a homesick country boy envious. It was a tempting proposition, but he really couldn't afford the risk of anyone assuming he'd run off for good. And not to mention the danger he put this girl and her mother in just by being here--that was another realization that only now dawned on him. He was a threat by his very existence, whether it was by the hand of Shinra or the heresy of his own biology. And that was the third thing. He remembered himself as he glanced the window once more, that he wasn't human. He faintly recalled that the northern continent was terribly cold because of Jenova's presence, that the planet was reserving energy in the event it needed to purge the creature from its surface. Hollander had spoken something of it and he didn't yet fully understand, but he knew enough that he suddenly feared his mere presence here might be enough to make the flowers of the meadow shrivel and wilt, the grasses yellow, and the waterfall and its river dry up. This was a special place, one that was surely already working on borrowed time and energy. It didn't deserve to be tainted by his presence.
"I can't stay," he said plainly and perhaps a little sadly, but he hoped she didn't notice.
He watched the girl's shoulders drop at those words, but she retained her smile.
"That's okay," she said, rather quietly. She began to shut the door behind her, but then stopped herself abruptly once more. Peeking in now, the smile dissipated, she asked "What's your name?"
Genesis hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the cover of Loveless for some reason. Perhaps remembering something about himself that he couldn't yet place. The epic, the play, the street through Sector 8, his father's study in the old home in Banora. The things he thought he knew that weren't as they seemed. The great play of his life with all the actors and settings in place, all the unsightly mechanisms carefully at work yet out of sight. And he remembered who he was.
"Genesis." The girl spoke his name as if feeling the syllables in her mouth. Genesis, the son of the landlord of rustic and bountiful Banora. Genesis, the SOLDIER who would never become Sephiroth. Genesis, the imperfect test tube child of Doctor Hollander's orphaned project. But when she said his name he felt none of these things were prescribed about it. She said his name like she was building a familiarity around it, like she intended to remember. Like she'd made a friend.
She smiled, beaming again. "I'm Aerith," she told him. Then she shut the door behind her, and Genesis could hear her hurrying down the stairs.
"What was your name again?"
Elmyra, Aerith's mother, as he'd come to learn, gave a nod and a satisfied hum as she set a plate stacked with light, fluffy pancakes, seared bacon, and over easy eggs down in front of him. She weaved back around the table and, wiping her hands against her apron, took her seat beside Aerith. The flower girl claimed a jug of syrup from the center of the table, just beside the arrangement of roseate blossoms hanging over the sides of a porcelain vase, and poured a healthy amount of the sap over her pancakes. She afterwards passed the jug over to Genesis, who poured some over his own. Returning the syrup back to the center of the table, Genesis thought he should speak before he became too engrossed in his meal.
"I appreciate your hospitality, for allowing me to stay here. Really."
Elmyra waved her hand about the air. "It's nothing. We take care of each other here."
Aerith nodded her agreement with a mouth full of pancakes.
"Still," Genesis started, taking his silverware to his sap-covered pancakes. "I hate to disturb the sanctity you have here. I'll be gone shortly."
"Stay as long as you need. And don't be so unkind to yourself."
Elmyra gave a faint smile as she said this. The gentle kind that indicated neither happiness nor enthusiasm. The softness of her eyes as she said it, the way they narrowed in consideration or perhaps concern. Her expression, the fine wrinkles where she'd smiled too much or worried too hard, the flow of her voice, like it didn't matter if anything moved too quickly or took too long. The world could move around her and she'd make no effort to keep up. Like it was okay to exist here and only in this moment.
It made him think of his friend's mother, of Gillian. Elmyra's slower pace was something that Genesis felt throughout the whole of this house, and in Aerith. He wasn't sure what it was, maybe his mind slowed to match, no longer ferried along by the restlessness and anxiousness of typical city folk and the demands of Shinra. He couldn't say for sure, but it made him feel heavier in the right sort of way, different from the mild aches of the sickness. He was aware of himself, suddenly, of the true weight of his body against the force of gravity. He could feel himself breathing, the way his chest ebbed and flowed with the expansion and contraction of his lungs. It was quiet, maybe that's what it was, but entirely unlike the quiet of the infirmary. He struggled to even call that place dreadful. There was a hollowness to it, maybe it was the total absence of anything natural.
Genesis nearly thanked Elmyra again, but he pressed his lips shut, his only reply a brief smile before he cut into his meal. He knew better than to continue trying the hospitality of others. He instead busied himself with eating--the sooner he finished, the sooner he could leave, though he questioned now if he even wanted to.
The sweetness of syrup and softness of pancakes flooded his senses. He ate slowly, carefully, savoring each bite. How long had it been since he'd consumed something besides the tasteless mush Hollander obligatorily served him as he lay useless in R&D? How long ago was it that he actually enjoyed and looked forward to eating? He couldn't say, but he wondered thereafter how long it would be before he'd have this experience again. He didn't feel the need to hurry out of here so quickly anymore.
Elmyra raised a glass of iced water to her lips and downed a few sips. Genesis met her eye for a moment, and, from the way she lingered on contact, it seemed she had something she wanted to say.
Aerith perked up immediately, eyes widening a bit, but it was more a simple type of curiosity than a sudden incitement of fear, from the way she subtly lifted her brows.
"The belt," Elmyra said very plainly. "And your eyes. It's faint, but they glow. Paler than the ones I've seen before though."
Genesis pulled his eyes away from hers. He somehow found himself smiling very sadly, as if this was information he wasn't already aware of himself. Yes, he was in SOLDIER, but saying that hurt now. It hurt here, especially, where it felt like he could be someone else. Someone untethered by his ties to Shinra and their unethical experimentation. He'd been unmasked, the act was up and the curtain lifted. Yes, he was in SOLDIER, but what did that even mean now?
Genesis nodded. "I am, yes."
"You dress pretty strangely for one."
Genesis automatically looked down at his attire, his red leather coat, and felt the heel of his boots against the wood floor. "This? Well..."
"Just an observation," she reassured. She picked at the bacon on her plate, wrapping it up in a bit of over easy egg for a coupled bite. And somehow that helped ease his feelings a little, that she didn't fall into the same pattern of stiffness and overly accommodating behaviors that many often did when encountering him or other members of SOLDIER.
Aerith seemed to be mulling something over, while she worked away at her food. It was clear she still paid every attention, given how her gaze shifted between Genesis and her mother as they spoke, but she'd remained silent up to now.
"What's it like? Being in SOLDIER?"
Genesis sat back some, finding it necessary to clear his head before answering that question. It was one he was posed often, and usually he'd regale the questioner with tales of the glory and honor of heroism, the thrill and rush of battle, but those were different days. SOLDIER. A word which once made his chest swell with immense pride. It felt hollow now, like the reception of an unearned medal. And it felt dreadful. SOLDIER. The most powerful military force in the entire world, whose members had each, unknowingly, traded their humanity for power, for a taste of that fruit of fame and glory.
Genesis had become terribly silent for a while, staring off at nothing in particular. He tried to articulate something, parting his lips as if to speak, but where were the words to describe monstrosity, the cruel loss of humanity? The feeling of having lived his entire life in a play where the curtains never closed, whose plot he never understood until the moment the twist was revealed. And suddenly everything made sense, all pieces clicked into place and triggered revelation after another.
"It's fine," he finally managed. "But not what everyone says it is."
He tried a smile, and hoped she couldn't see the sadness behind it. The excitement in the girl's eyes had died down. Now there was a softness to them, and she watched him as if in expectation of something more---or, rather, as if studying him.
"...Would you like to see where I grow my flowers?" She asked quietly.
Genesis sighed. His chest felt heavy with neglected sorrow, but he was more than glad for the shift in conversation. The girl was perceptive, to say the least. Not content to spoil her mood any further, he responded in earnest.
"Are they not grown in the meadow outside?"
Aerith shook her head. "Nope. It's somewhere else. Somewhere special."
Genesis was truly confused. The meadow beyond these doors was an impossible thing to begin with, and now this girl was claiming to possess some other area of soil fertile enough to grow flowers within the mako-powered metropolis. He was surely being toyed with.
"Where, then?" He played along, smile returning to his lips despite the remnants of sadness still sitting in his chest.
Aerith stood, at once abandoning her half-finished breakfast. The brightness had rekindled itself within her green eyes. "Mom--"
"Yes, you can clean up later, sweetheart. Just make sure everything is put away before dinner."
Aerith threw her arms around her mother and pecked her on the cheek. She then hurried to the double doors which led out into the meadow and, swinging them open, motioned for Genesis to follow.
"Come on, I'll show you!"
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