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Shin-Ra's darling. Princess of the corporation. Thought to be a big player when she's the bird in the silver cage. Wings clipped, compressed by the metal bars when she tries to fly.
Escape.
Aerith's no SOLDIER 1st class. No strength to fight back, no option but to stay caged. Got no obvious sign to bind her to the company. She's got a pretty rope around her neck instead. Invisible. No less there.
Called princess when she's anything but; dog bound to a fate she doesn't want. Not like Tifa. Would rather live a life of her own creation.
But Aerith's here. Won't leave, and Tifa's relieved. Makes her one horrible kind of a human being but she can't change her feelings. Not after Aerith was—her first. First meeting, first person to accept a girl's dream to change the world. Uncommon for a woman to have the dream of joining SOLDIER. Aerith believed in her. From the very start. When she healed a broken girl with no home to go back to after her perilous journey down an unforgiving mountain.
Aerith's her beacon in the dark. Whether she wants to be or not. A role no one should put on another.
And yet.
Fingers dance over milky skin. Alabaster. Gentle.
Reverent.
Tifa cups Aerith's cheek. Thumb drawing idle patterns. Aerith's lashes flutter.
Somehow, she seems different. First time since Tifa's known her. Curled body standing straight, not content but something.
Aerith pushes her back until the hollow of Tifa's knees bump into the bed. Tifa lets herself be pushed, back hitting a soft blanket. Aerith climbs on top of her, knees bracketing Tifa's waist. Fingers crawl under her shirt. Not the usual first class uniform; especially made for her. Tank top, baggy cargo pants. The many pockets good for hiding knives. Gun holster around her thigh, sitting snug. Last resort; Tifa's a fist kinda gal. But Shin-Ra wants to make sure, her knuckles hurt, and Genesis' been a good teacher, despite primarily using a sword.
Aerith touches the hollow of Tifa's collarbone. Right where her dog tag lies. She fingers the chain. Slips her fingers under it. Pulls, until the back of the chain digs into Tifa's neck.
“Lockhart,” Aerith says. “A lock, a heart.”
Tifa exhales softly.
“Do you suppose it's mine?” Aerith wonders.
Aerith's smile isn't quite real, isn't quite fake; there's uncertainty to it. A question she believes to be answered in the negative.
Tifa clasps her wrist. Doesn't say yes. Feels the truth in her heart anyway. Kisses Aerith, a touch filled with a thousand words.
Aerith tastes of sweetness. Saccharine on the tip of her tongue. Devil's cake, velvet red. No passion. No hurry.
Just—
love
“Dû bist mîn, ih bin dîn,” Tifa murmurs. Right against Aerith's lips. The corner of Aerith's mouth curls up. Just slightly. Only a bit.
“Des solt dû gewis sîn,” Aerith continues. Finishes, “Dû bist beslozzenin mînem herzen. Verlorn ist das sluzzellîn: dû muost ouch immêr darinne sîn.”
Tifa's palm clasps Aerith's neck. The other fiddles with the dog tag.
Aerith plays with the chain of Tifa's dog tag. Slips it off. Tifa's heart beats wildly. Expectant. Aerith puts the dog tag on. Cool metal against her collarbone. She doesn't say it. Shows it instead, that single action louder than any confirmation.
Mine, Tifa thinks.
Yours, she feels.