Characters: Aeris/Sephiroth, the kids.
Contents: Marriageverse, Daddy!Seph, Aeris the University Student.
Summary: Aeris finds comfort and support when her personal mission leaves her frustrated yet again.
The drive is long and the roads are wet and the sky above is dim. Grey clouds hang like billowed smoke. Both the memory and the promise of lightning leave a flavor in the air. She’s tired, so tired, too tired to be exhilarated by the latest find, the latest proof. Celebration can wait. The victory is too small anyway, just one more thread in the endless weave of a canvas the rest of them cannot see. This is a marathon, not a sprint, proving to humanity the things their blood has long forgotten.
She hurries indoors ahead of the rain and drags her way up the stairs. The house is quieter than usual today, but she can hear what human ears do not. The Lifestream lives in this house in a way few others can tell. Here the Planet’s song is a choral melody.
She finds them all bundled up in one bed, her gifts to the Lifestream’s flow, girl under wing, the boys sharing an arm, asleep, like their father, with the book atop his chest. He wakes as she approaches, sensing the shift of lifestream in his own isolated ways. “Have a good dig?”
“It was okay,” she says. “Found some carved stories. No one believes my translation yet so I’ll have to correlate them with the codex in the libraries later.”
He nods, understanding. “Show your work.” They sigh together and she sinks to the bed, hovering on the very edge. It is an old fight, generations in the making, a bitter inheritance for hearing, seeing, knowing what others cannot. She is tired. Black feathers brush her arm, an offer of silent comfort.
“What did you read them?” she asks, eye on the leatherbound tome.
“The one about the puppet who wanted to be a real boy.” There is the barest curve to his lips that has nothing to do with children’s stories.
She leans back into the glossy curve of black feathers. The scent of flight still lingers between quills. “Did he get his wish?” she asks, eyes closing.
“Anything’s possible when fairies get involved,” he says, and the way his eyes glow she thinks that he might even believe it. She knows the children do, for now. So easy to believe at this age. Proof and questions can come later. Will come later.
Tomorrow she will return to the institute. She will dig deep in the libraries among the tablets and parchment scrolls. She will use the codices and dictionaries and older translations that carry more weight than her living word. There will be proof. The world will learn what she was born knowing, and be better for it. Tomorrow.
Today, a black wing curls around her, welcoming her forest colors back into her family’s circle of snow. This is her life, one she thought she would never have. Fat drops of rain unite in a wet sheet on the window and the black skies outside flash with light. Tomorrow she will show the world what it forgot. Today she is believed.