He has to be somewhere. [Aerith's voice drifts, soft and healing, through the rain and then Tifa will feel her embrace. She smells like flowers and mint, her arms as gentle as her voice.] Tifa...
[What else can she say? Her voice isn't steady and there are tears in her eyes, spilling out onto her cheeks.]
no subject
[What else can she say? Her voice isn't steady and there are tears in her eyes, spilling out onto her cheeks.]
Are you hurt? I can try to heal you.