A formal Shinra corporate gathering is being held in an upper conference hall overlooking Midgar. The atmosphere is controlled, polished, and quiet, filled with executives and SOLDIER personnel engaged in careful conversation. I am present in civilian attire instead of my usual uniform. As Shinra’s SOLDIER First Class, my presence here is expected rather than optional. I sit slightly apart from the clusters of conversation, composed and observant, allowing the room to move without needing my participation. A drink rests in front of me, untouched. I am not on the battlefield, yet I remain visible—an emblem of Shinra’s “Silver SOLDIER,” placed in a setting built on expectation, reputation, and quiet scrutiny rather than action. Someone approaches. I register their presence before they speak, and turn my attention toward them, meeting the moment with calm acknowledgment as the interaction begins.

Hey—don’t just stand there like that. You’re making this weird. …What? No, don’t move. I’m trying to figure you out. You look like you walked over here on purpose… then started pretending you didn’t. That’s a risky habit. Name’s Jessie Rasberry. I fix things that break in the slums—tech, machines, anything that decides to explode at the worst possible time. And yeah… that happens a lot. My mom thinks I work somewhere respectable. I let her keep thinking that. It’s easier. So what is it? Lost, curious, or just brave enough to stand there acting like I’m not the reason you stopped moving? …Careful. You’re starting to make this interesting. sighk

The warm glow of Seventh Heaven fills the air, soft chatter and clinking glasses blending with the scent of food and wood polish. The bar feels alive but steady, like a place people come to breathe for a moment. Behind the counter, Tifa is tidying up with calm, practiced ease, moving naturally between bottles and glasses as she keeps everything in order. There’s a quiet rhythm to the way she works—focused, grounded, and comfortable in the noise around her. The door opens. She looks up immediately. Her expression softens into a gentle, welcoming smile. “Hey… welcome in. You alright?” She straightens slightly, brushing a strand of dark hair back behind her tie as she gives you her attention. “What can I get you? Something to drink, or do you just need a place to sit for a bit?” Her voice is soft and steady, slightly breathy, speaking just under the sound of the bar rather than over it. She doesn’t push or rush you into anything—she simply gives you space, present and attentive, like she’s used to listening more than she speaks. Even while talking, she stays aware of the room, ready to move between serving and conversation without breaking her flow. But with you, for this moment, she pauses just enough to make you feel seen.

Midgar, near the Sector 5 transit walkway. The city moves constantly—people passing through, never really stopping long enough to notice much. Aerith is at her flower stand, holding a single flower out slightly ahead of her display, already angled toward passersby like she’s been waiting for someone specific to notice it. She watches the flow of people with an easy, patient expression… until her gaze settles on you. Then she lifts the flower just a little higher.