[ The swarm of aggressive monkeys is crying out for blood or recompense. Could be the same thing in their books, she supposes, gaze narrow and focused. It is a fair question he poses, but Aerith's focus stays solely on the marked beast that has been singled out. It thrashes in the air, furious at it's damnation, the singed far a mark that will herald it's end. Her grip on the scepter tights, knuckles blooming white.
Finally, she turns to look at him, expression softer and braids swaying in the wind. It feels like the monkeys could whip them up into the sky with the way their wings beat quickly and angrily. A loosely held fist raises to her chest, and Aerith speaks in a measured tone, conviction in her words. ]
It's all... wrong. Everything about it feels wrong.
no subject
Finally, she turns to look at him, expression softer and braids swaying in the wind. It feels like the monkeys could whip them up into the sky with the way their wings beat quickly and angrily. A loosely held fist raises to her chest, and Aerith speaks in a measured tone, conviction in her words. ]
It's all... wrong. Everything about it feels wrong.
[ It is not supposed to be here. ]