[ There isn’t much Aerith can offer in response to that. She turns her head to Emily, letting go of the mask. Her fingers go cold, then, losing the warmth of skin, of body heat when she relinquishes her touch from it. The smile she offers Emily is gentle and waxes half-full, like a receding moon. There are a great deal of things on her mind— all of them losses. Then, after a pause full of implications and would-bes or have-beens, Aerith speaks. ]
no subject
Speaking from experience?
[ She knows Emily isn’t. ]