#mariposaserpiente

[shieldded]

@mariposaserpiente

Demetra spent a good deal of her time at the Leaf House. Letting thee kids practice their swords, wooden sticks bouncing off the metal shield on her arm. It was a good way to spend her day. Their little faces lighting up, feeling like their moving towards something important. She couldn’t deny their eyes knew and understood more about the world than they always let on. Demetra spent her days giving piggy back rides and being a pull up bar for the extra strong kiddos. 

It was a good way to spend her time.

But the sun was setting and it was time to return home. She had created a good home in the Sector 5 Slums, it was comfortable and held all of her things. There was always something missing from it however. Demetra didn’t like to dwell on what wasn’t there, only what is. 

Her stomach growled.

Had she forgotten to eat lunch today? Perhaps. She turned into one of the little restaurants. More of a bar than cafe but it would do. It was busier, busier than one would think. She found a lone open seat next to a stranger, “Hey... is this seat taken?”

[princeshinra]

@mariposaserpiente

Rufus Shinra was accustomed to more than his fair-share of stares and the occasional whisper. He was accustomed to hostility, to venom being spat his way and to the anger in eyes. 

What he was not used to, was seeing the same pupils he had reflected in those eyes back at him. 

Why this man was here, he did not know. How he got here was also a mystery. All of that seemd to flutter away now in the single glance it took to register the spiraling green eyes. Of course, he still had to be on guard...

...Though it was well-deserved, Rufus had no intention of dying. Not now at least. There was still a significant amount to atone for, to move around, replace. Rebuild. It wasn’t him with his name on it, of course, but it was still his place to do something. 

“Well. That look in your eyes seems to tell me you’ve made it here for less-than-pleasant reasons. Can I do something to help you, sir?” His voice still held the confident lilt it always had - a habit that died hard. It was just a quieter form of confidence. One more controlled, more somber. That was what leaked into his expression at any point in time.