“What makes the leaves change color?”
She knows, truthfully she does. The science behind it is something she finds entirely too simple, despite how abstract of a concept it was for their soulless counterparts. As the seasons change, so do their surroundings, and it’s something she’s always found uncomfortable.
Change.
It brings about plenty of trepidation as she watches the leaves fall so slowly against the wind.
What she wants to know is something else entirely. She wants to know why people give all sorts of fanatical reasoning towards it. The anthropomorphism of a weather system seems strange, even for Gaians, but they seem to express such simple terms with a sense of romanticism that only Zidane and Kuja could emulate.
Her hand curls over the leaf that fell into her palm. It crinkles and shatters into pieces.
It’s an odd question to ask, she realizes now, from someone as apathetic as she is.
--- // @crimsonsalamander













