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Nov. 23rd, 2010 10:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sour_idealistTitle: Echo of a Memory
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII - Advent Children
Characters/Pairing: Tifa/Aerith
Rating/Warnings: G, angst
Written For: Flowers prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ff_yuri_drabble.
Words: 200
Spoilers?: Only the famous one.
Author's Note: Time to write? I thought that was a myth.
The flowers brushed against her skin, just lightly enough for her to be aware of their touch. Curled on her side in the floor of the church, the world was a haze of pastel greens and ivories, except for the dark heap of her gloves. With one newly bared hand, she traced the pale curve of the nearest blossom, tilting it closer to her face.
“Love you, Aerith,” she whispered into the flower. She didn’t know if the other woman could hear, but she had to imagine it was worth a try.
Sighing, Tifa closed her eyes against the early afternoon light. She had her watch set; she’d be back at the bar in time to open for the evening. In the meantime, she could rest. Just for a little while.
The church air was incredible – flowers, soft good earth, and just a hint of the soot outside. All it needed was a slight hint of fresh sweat, and maybe the electric scent left after the sizzle of a spell.
What was left of Aerith drifted over and around the sleeping woman, pouring Lifestream over the shadows under her eyes and twining with the flower stems in between her fingers.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII - Advent Children
Characters/Pairing: Tifa/Aerith
Rating/Warnings: G, angst
Written For: Flowers prompt at
ff_yuri_drabble.Words: 200
Spoilers?: Only the famous one.
Author's Note: Time to write? I thought that was a myth.
The flowers brushed against her skin, just lightly enough for her to be aware of their touch. Curled on her side in the floor of the church, the world was a haze of pastel greens and ivories, except for the dark heap of her gloves. With one newly bared hand, she traced the pale curve of the nearest blossom, tilting it closer to her face.
“Love you, Aerith,” she whispered into the flower. She didn’t know if the other woman could hear, but she had to imagine it was worth a try.
Sighing, Tifa closed her eyes against the early afternoon light. She had her watch set; she’d be back at the bar in time to open for the evening. In the meantime, she could rest. Just for a little while.
The church air was incredible – flowers, soft good earth, and just a hint of the soot outside. All it needed was a slight hint of fresh sweat, and maybe the electric scent left after the sizzle of a spell.
What was left of Aerith drifted over and around the sleeping woman, pouring Lifestream over the shadows under her eyes and twining with the flower stems in between her fingers.
