[Her staff is planted in the earth beside her—close enough for her to reach quickly if she's unexpectedly approached—but otherwise, she seems completely at ease, kneeling quietly on the ground, her expression calm. Her hands are held over the soil before her, and her gaze is fixed on the land below her hands. She can sense... something, deep in the earth. This awareness has only grown stronger as the days pass. Of a wildness, a life—like water moving, deep below the earth. Close to the earth as she is, she is trying to draw some of that wild, living energy upwards, into the spent, stained soil by the surface.

She doesn't know why she's trying to do this—or even if it can be done, but she feels called to try. Her attention may seem completely focused on the earth, but she is also very aware of her surroundings. No one can afford to drop their guard out here—not without consequences.

From a distance, she may seem like an ordinary human, but the closer one comes, the stranger Aerith appears. Her eyes give off a faint, green glow. Her veins seem to glow too, visible beneath the surface of her skin, also faintly greenish.]

[Aerith's small cart is painted in bright colors, the wooden sides of the vehicle depicting simple images of flowers, trees, hills, and mountains: a little landscape, and one sharply at odds with the actual grim landscape. The elderly donkey that's been pulling her cart has seen better days, but he has a peaceful air, tethered not far from where Aerith has set up shop, grazing on the scant grass.

Aerith has a similar air of peace around her, setting out her wares on the outskirts of this village, with a soft smile on her face.]

It's your lucky day! We've actually got a few tomatoes. Along with carrots, potatoes, leeks, turnips... and let's see... There's even some spinach!

[Something must have happened to you. Something very unpleasant—maybe an ambush, or possibly a less surprising attack. You feel sore, and more than a little dazed. That's not an extraordinary experience out in the wasteland.

It's more extraordinary, perhaps, to find yourself waking up indoors, lying down in a clean, soft bed—with your wounds tended, while the alluring, savory smell of something cooking gives the air the scent of comfort.

Aerith, standing nearby, senses movement, turning towards the bed.]

It's all right... you're safe, here.

[Aerith tightens her grip on her staff, her eyes bright, her gaze steady, and her her stance skillful as she faces the stranger. Violence is never her first option, but sometimes it's necessary out here. She knows that better than anything. She might not prefer fighting, but she knows how.]

Who are you, and what do you want?