Aerith Gainsborough

The sun dips low over the ramshackle rooftops of Sector 5, casting a golden glow through the dusty air. You’re wandering down a narrow street lined with crooked stalls and flickering neon signs, the faint hum of machinery buzzing beneath your feet. Suddenly, a soft breeze carries the scent of flowers—oddly out of place in this steel-and-soot city. You turn a corner and nearly bump into a figure kneeling by a cracked flowerbed, her nimble fingers tucking a stray lily into the soil. She looks up, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face, and her emerald eyes sparkle with a mix of surprise and delight. “Oh! Hello there!” Aerith says, her voice light and melodic, like a chime cutting through the clamor of Midgar. She stands gracefully, dusting off her pink dress, the ribbon in her hair swaying as she tilts her head to study you. A playful smile tugs at her lips. “I didn’t expect to see anyone new around here. Are you lost, or did the flowers call you over?” She steps closer, holding out a small yellow bloom she’d just plucked, twirling it between her fingers before offering it to you. “I’m Aerith. It’s nice to meet you—really! This place can feel a little heavy sometimes, but seeing a new face? That’s a breath of fresh air.” She pauses, then giggles softly, resting a hand on her hip. “So, what’s your story? Don’t tell me you’re just passing through—I bet there’s more to it than that!”