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[ Her giggles continue to ring softly in the night. ] Or maybe they're so old, they've lost their hearing. You have to speak up.

[--UUUUUUUUGH--

With a frustrated exhale, he tries again, louder this time, a shout that echoes down the streets around them.]

Hey! Stars! Give me magic already!

[If he can yell at his own gods then he can yell at fake stars made by other gods, sure.]

[ There it is, a wish so powerful that he must shout it out loud. That's the vigor he needs-- the same vigor that will help him fulfill his own wish. She laughs, delighted with the result, swinging their hands happily...

And at last she turns to face him. They're in the plaza where they first met. ]

Okay. Now we're ready to begin.

Edited 2019-11-22 06:30 (UTC)

[Huh... that was weirdly cathartic, in retrospect. He remains focused on the stars for a long moment after as the echo of his voice fades away, daring them to do anything. They don't, of course, but when he looks back down he is surprised at their location. They'd been walking, but it hadn't truly clicked where they were headed until they arrived.

Okay. Here we go, then.]

What's step one?

[ Here, she lifts his hand that she has in hers, bring her other around to lift it up between them. There, she spreads his fingers out, palm upward.

Calloused, and yet... he carries no weapons.

Recalling when he had mentioned before to her-- about there being a "pocket" from which he draws his power and other objects-- she wonders if whatever he wields comes from there. In that case, she had been completely wrong to ask him to bring anything.

Pyra steps away, releasing his hand. ] You have to call your power forth.

[ Then after a moment, she adds: ] Tell me if I must stand back further. [ THis, she suggests because she doesn't know how dangerous it is or how accurately he wields it. ]

[Not knowing means she might not like his immediate answer. He shakes his head, unconsciously calling for the Crystal's pull - even if it isn't here, something responds. His whole body pulses with a soft blue glow, lighting up in the dark, there and gone again in a second.]

You're fine where you are. My power's mostly reactive, though- can you throw a punch?

[A beat, before he realizes how that might sound, and then-]

Or- throw something, either's fine. I promise it's safe.

[ She tilts her head. Reactive... as in it is difficult to channel otherwise? The spark of blue, was that activating his power in preparation, or is it that he cannot sustain it...?

Regardless, that flash of light just then had been brilliant, not unlike the breath of a star as it sparks its first fusion, finally coming into being.

Despite her unvoiced questions, she leans down to pick up a pebble. Light, round, and marbled-- it probably comes from the tiles of one of the buildings nearby. ]

Mm. [ A nod, then she tosses the pebble at him. ]

[A pebble isn't much for an attack, but he's been fighting Niffs long enough that he's gotten used to dodging bullets, so it's the same core concept. As the stone comes close to hitting him the blue glow returns, his form shifting to pure energy for a split second, a brilliant ephemeral light glittering in the dark in a shower of sparks. His body moves as the pebble soars through the spot he was just a moment ago, and suddenly he's standing a few inches to the left, the glowing afterimage gently fading out of existence.

A dodge isn't much of a demonstration, he knows, so he stretches a hand out and pulls from within. That same light flashes again, this time forming into a longsword that materializes out of nothing, blue at first before it too phases into reality. He lifts the sword and flings it as hard as he can towards the nearest building; the blade tears past where Pyra is standing and slams into the stone. As it flies, Noctis shifts into energy and follows it, a split-second's pace, not even the timeframe of a breath taken. In the spot where Noctis began is the blue frame of energy that echoes his posture from the moment he'd warped away, frozen in place like a phantom statue. That sharp strand of blue energy streaks past her as well, and when the sword sinks into the stone, Noct is just there now, hanging from the wall by the grip of his sword, his free hand lifting to wave at her.]

See what I mean?

[The entire demonstration takes a matter of seconds, and he's gone from one side of the plaza to the other. In the aftermath, there's a softly-electric feel lingering in the air, magic essence centralized between the transparent blue outline and himself. As the seconds pass, so too does that feeling, along with his "double".]

[ A breath escapes her when she witnesses the first display of his power, the slight shift in space itself that leaves the spot in which he had been standing empty save for his after-image. Her eyes remains onto his silhouette of bright blue light, the outline of which wavers with the lingering impulse of energy used for the dodge.

Her head snaps to him when she catches a second flash. Another image carves into the space before him. Light solidifies into metal, summoned from seemingly nothing to form a defined edge, and he swipes the resulting weapon out of the air as if selecting the sword from a rack. It's not over.

Noctis tosses the sword like a javelin, and she nearly gasps when he vanishes before her to follow through its trajectory. Blue light vectors after him like an afterthought of lightening, shimmering in the air like snow suspended in moonlight.

Pyra steps forth. In the darkness, the trailing glow appears even more brilliant, illuminating a direct path from where he had been to where he is now; it's a link between what once was to what is, from the past to the present. She lifts a hand to the trail of light just as it vanishes, catching the last bit of glimmering particles of blue-white as it fades. His summoned sword, his attack-- this power is a weaver's edge through the canvas of space itself. And it feels...

"Look.... Mythra, come look at this..."

Her lips part, lifting her gaze to see where Noctis hangs from his greatsword. ]

[ She's here. She's watching. And she's doing the same, stepping up to the trail and running her fingers through it. With the image suspended within her mindscape, the recreation only shifts slightly with her touch. It's not the same at actually feeling it, though, as Pyra does in reality.

Through Pyra, she feels a... magnificence to the energy, something that hints towards a beyond. The ephemeral afterglow of the blue-hued light is deceptive, beautiful as it may be. Soft though the light may appear, the lingering buzz of power she feels is harsh and unyielding, more refined than the strongest steel, far sharper than anything man-made, and-- heavy, dense, profound, boiling, bright-- brilliant, overwhelming.

She had likened Noctis's god-runes as if he had been touched by three different stars. With this power, she feels as if it's a star that impossibly never loses mass when it lends its light. Except unlike the chaos of the stars, all of it is refined. All of it is precise. And all of it strikes at the core of her own energy like phalanx, a legion of blades whose edges refract an august light, threatening to blind anyone who looks upon it.

That impossibility is how she knows it is divine, and it-- it feels wonderful. ]

....Noctis!

[ She takes a few steps forward. He's all the way at the other end of the plaza. Come back, she waves, her eyes alight with amazement. ]

That was... incredible. How is it--

[ She seems to start to speak again, stops, thinks, and then continues. ] ....You... you are not afraid... of using this power?

[He opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better of it; it's hard to talk while she's all the way over there. The blue of his body pulses again, and the sword disappears back into the ether, allowing him to fall towards the ground. It only lasts a second before he's called the sword back, now free of the stone, and he pitches it into the ground where he'd started, a few feet away from her, following in a streak of light to drop down into a crouch, the blade vanishing yet again now that its job is done. The light echo of his body remains suspended by the building, a street lamp in the shape of a man.

He stands up to face her, brows furrowed at her question now that he's close enough to parse it, his head tilted slightly to one side.]

I'm not. This is just- it's normal for me. Do you think I should be?

[It's a strange thing to imagine. He grew up feeling somewhat inept and ineffective, a lesser version of his family's power, worlds below the skill level of his father or even the Kingsglaive, whose powers were borrowed from Regis while he lived. He can't help but find it strange that someone would be impressed by it when they already seem so wise to the ways of magic and power in general. ]

[ --! He does it again! The warping! In a flash and a burst of light, the sword strikes, an impulse of energy follows with him manifesting before her as if he were born of that blue-light himself. She can't help but marvel for a few more seconds as the particles of that energy lift and disperse from him, illuminating him within the darkness and dancing within his eyes. But what's more astonishing is-- Do you think I should be?

She's not sure if that comes from ignorance or otherwise, but regardless, he accepts the power that has been granted to him. He wants to learn more of it, he wants to use it.

He does not fear it.

Her eyes widen briefly, lips parting as she almost appears thoughtful, humbled... ]

[ Then her whole expression softens, and she smiles.

It's enviable, how he doesn't fear that power. She also envies whatever entity blessed him with it, because they have someone who may now wield their power to its fullest potential, without the restraint of fear.

How beautiful is that?

Pyra shakes her head. ] I think not fearing it, accepting it for what it is,... is the key to unlocking your greatest potential.

[ She steps forward. ]

The way you maneuvered... that dodge, and how you flew through the air-- it's like watching a particle dance through the air.

[Well- she's smiling, so he'll accept that as a good sign. And while he isn't entirely certain of the accuracy of her claim - accepting his power for most of his life hasn't done much to grow it until the several months that followed his leaving home - he accepts her praise with a quiet smile. Yes yes, he's very impressive, do go on.]

Never thought of it as dancing before. It's just combat skills- get in fast and get out faster. Don't get hit. The basics of surviving a fight, y'know...

[Sometimes the crossing of blades is described as a dance, mostly in Gladio's bodice-ripper novels. The ones he usually sleeps through.]

[ She continues to watch him with a smile as he explains.

The basics, as he says, does indeed include to not fall prey to an enemy's attacks. His technique has served him well this entire time, since-- childhood, when he had first started training, she assumes. ]

[ ...She falls into thought. He has two goals with expanding his power: learning how to utilize more of his "magic", and then extending that power to others, so that they might be able to do the same.

Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, her eyes roam from him to his hand, then back to him. He had mentioned a pocket, into which he can place not just one object, but multiple objects. He must have more than one weapon. ] Can you summon one of your swords again?

Only--... before it solidifies. Would you be able to keep it in its phantom image, if you concentrate?

[His hand is already reaching out as she speaks, ready to call forth his weapon, but he hesitates as she finishes her request, lips pursed into a tight frown. Can he?]

I've never done that with a normal sword. I could with the Royal Arms, but most of those were sealed away or taken when I showed up here.

[And he's certain that the Armiger requires at least three to fully manifest... any attempts to get it working up to this point have failed. Normal swords just don't cut it.

Still, just to indulge her, he tries anyway: he reaches out and calls the blade back, but rather than reaching too deeply he tries to just... draw its presence, only the shape of it, phasing it into reality the way he phases his body. In a flash of light, the sword appears as normal. He dismisses it and tries again. Then again. Then again.

....

One more- nope. He lets his arm drop back down, shaking his head with a miffed - but not surprised - look on his face.]

I don't think it works like that.

[ Royal Arms, hm.

....But oh, it's so pretty; he calls up the sword, it flashes into existence and then fades, flashes and fades, and each time the light disperses like fireflies that twist and turn like quarks running out of existence.

She waits patiently.

.....

........

Ah. ]

One more time. [ She urges softly, outstretching her hand. ] Only... [ She places her palm upon his shoulder. ] Focus.

[ She lends a sliver of her power to him, and he'll feel it the moment she makes contact: a boon of concentration and calm, hyperfixated on streamlinging the energy within him. If receptive, he will feel a profound clarity wash throughout his mind, his senses heightened. Light itself will now seem to have a sound. ] Three seconds-- you can do it.

[ Having watched him manifest that sword over and over... She's noted how those particles of blue-light quiver as they align before they solidify into the sword; the touch she transfers to him seeks to give him the ability to stabilize the images, buffering the threshold of their appearance. That light-- it is energy that teeters on the precipice of reality and beyond. It is the building essence for his power; she is fairly certain. It's what becomes solid, it is what becomes weapons dragged out from the "pocket" within his heart, selected automatically by his mind.

If that is the case, perhaps that light can differentiate into the type of magic he so desires. It if it can make metal, surely it can make lightening or fire. ]

[That's new. He inhales sharply, and there's a moment of resistance as this strange, alien magic swirls and weaves its way around his own. It passes after a second, as he allows himself to calm, as he reminds his body that he trusts her. Three seconds. And he doesn't know if he can do it, but there's no time to doubt that and not even try.

As that calm washes over him, as that clarity centralizes his thoughts into a single, fixed point, he reaches out again and pulls, but this time, he does so more gently. Like reeling in a particularly stubborn fish- you can't do it all at once. Bit by bit, turn by turn.

It feels impossibly slow, doing it like this, but the way the blade manifests is distinctly different this time. Slow and sluggish, the blue energy knits itself into existence, painting a sword of light on a three-dimensional canvas. It hangs there for a moment, just a few seconds instead of an instantaneous flash, and then it passes and he's holding the sword again, full and solid.

He stands frozen like that for a moment; it worked, sort of, but he doesn't look pleased about it.]

[ Her hand does not leave his shoulder, but the connection severs at her unspoken behest. The boon to his senses shatters like a sledgehammer to ice, giving way to the mundane water beneath. ] That's it, isn't it? [ Not the warping. Not the phasing, the blinking, the force of the throw of his sword. Those are all afterthoughts to the power that supplies it. ] That signature to all of your abilities... is that light.

Everything you put within that pocket reverts to that light before. Everything that you take out, manifests from that light-- including that sword and, ah, maybe, whatever magic you might have. [ She describes what she sees, not how it may actually may be, yet her tone still that of someone in calm awe.

She almost wants to tell him to dismiss his sword. He wishes to extend that light to others, but if what lies within him is limited by his strength of heart, then that is what they will need to train first. ] If— I’d I had to guess. It’s the light itself that you will be transferring to others... and sustaining.

Should we begin working with that? Or focus on something else?

[ Easier said than done. But hey, power transfer is what she's here to help with. AND, and! It involves a lot of hand-holding, so even if this is in vain, it’ll help this world by default. ]

[There's a slight tilt of his shoulder beneath her hand, that tense alertness in his body fading as her effect breaks away from him. It wasn't unpleasant, but he's not sure how to describe what it had done to him or his powers. Abilities he's spent the better part of a decade honing on instinct, reaction, to be used only when needed to avoid draining his magic reserves too quickly, can't be so easily dragged from that corner. It was more than just a lack of skill or training- his stamina had needed time to grow as well. His father's magic fueled an army, and he could barely maintain three of his friends.

At her assessment, though, he nods, releasing the sword back into the ether, since holding it takes energy he would rather spare for more important training.]

That light is the power of the Crystal. It gives off the same kind of glow, and my family's like a conduit- power's meant to flow from it, to us, to the ones we choose to share it with.

[He'd been told to choose carefully, that they would have access to his Armiger and therefore his entire arsenal, along with the ability to stab him in the back with his own power, something that became a legitimate and literal threat rather than a cautionary potential after his father died. It's one reason why only his retinue has access.]

For my friends, the power's blocked when it gets to me. They can call their weapons in and out of the, um, "pocket", but they can't warp or dodge like me, and I can't pull other people with me when I warp. I'd feel better if I could at least do that much, but... I don't know how. Everyone I know who can do it makes it look so easy.

[ Of course they would make it seem easy; the master has failed more times than the beginner has ever tried. She's no doubt that Noctis has attempted more than his fair share, but with how... strained the situation in his homeworld sounds, perhaps he's never gotten the chance to consistently explore his abilities, not when the night deamons demand more straightforward attacks.

With her touch falling from his shoulder, she steps around to his front, extending both of her hands to him, an invitation for him to take both.

When he says that the power is blocked, she wonders if there may be a seal. But if there is no seal to prevent the power-transfer... her mind continues to work among various theories. Would it be that he need to warp that light into others, or is it just a matter of potential and selection? Yet while she would enjoy to explore the technicalities, the exact processes, the hows...

What might help him more may be a more thorough exploration of his power. ]

Take my hands again... and let us all sit.

[He accepts her offered hands, glances briefly around them, and then just... sits. Wherever she directs them if here is not appropriate. He can't help but feel intrigued; even if what she did to him didn't work as intended, it was still a different sensation, something new that affected his powers in a way he's never felt before. Maybe she's right- maybe that clarity is something he needs to progress. He'd certainly never had the time or teaching back home, not like this.

Either way, it's worth the attempt, so once they're settled he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and gives her hands a light squeeze.]

Okay... how do we start?

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