@thevvolf liked for a starter!
☆ Soft droplets of dew fell from the leaves, springing plants to life once more as the morning’s sun kissed horizon. The sun rays made dance of shadows along pews. Stained glass was dusty, windowsills old. But where wood panels were old there lay the flourishing garden left behind. She bent down, knees brushed against the floorboards. Dark brown worker gloves were removed one finger at a time, wet soil adorned the palms and she knew it was pointless to remain clean with this kind of task. Tifa spent most of the time pulling weeds threatening to overtake. Surprising how resilient they seem to be under such dry soils such as in these lands.
The ruins were a few years old by this point. But if she closed her eyes there could still be seen the shantytown surrounding this church. Pipes and shingles for roofs, damp blankets and trash cans for furniture. Slums were never beautiful. But they were an acquired taste. A taste still resonating in some way inside here. People still took refuge at this church from time to time, but numbers dwindled when the seasons changed. Summer was almost upon them.
A creak of the door echoed through the sector 5 church. In confidence, she had assumed it to be a friend. “You’re late.” She called out. But in turning to face them, a stranger was what greeted. Carmine orbs went wide. Tifa stopped in her tracks.
“Oh. Sorry, I. I wasn’t expecting visitors in here.”
