Hope is the greatest gift.
She watched with a sense of peacefulness as the great cats ran along the bottom of a rocky canyon, their red fur a vibrant contrast to the barren landscape. As soon as the eldest of the three came to the end of the box canyon, he cleared the wall in a few quick bounds. Reaching the top, he called out to her and all life, in a voice full of the joy of the living and the sorrow of those who remember. Below the cats was a scene of peace: a city covered in life and full of green. Similar to, but very different from when this city had been been full of life and powered by ruinous green.
Pain shot through one of Gaia's old wounds, awakening her from her dream. She was tired, covered in scars and wounds that refused to heal. A dream is all it had been and all it would ever be. To be without pain, at peace. If only such a dream could be real.
Gaia looked for one of the few things that made her feel better, her GOLD WEAPON. There, out in the wastes, it sped along delivering packages, promises and hope in the form of little bottles filled with water. The Cetra child had done a truly wonderful thing healing as best she could, but some wounds cut so very deep.
Perhaps she could deliver hope to herself. But her GOLD WEAPON, though strong, was as damaged as she was. He would need help to pull off such a delivery if she did not want him to break in the process. It would take much of her already nearly-spent energy to delivering all the things that would enable the WEAPON to accomplish her dream, especially considering the size of some those items. It would be better, easier, to send it all in one small package. If she had had a physical face, Gaia would smile. She felt the best she had in quite a long time. Truly, hope was the greatest gift of all. If no one could give it to her, she would send it to herself.