carbungle | IC Contact

[Her words do get his attention, forcing him to listen not just to his own misgivings but her soft persistence. He's not used to being challenged on this, and it's a credit to how close he's allowed her with regards to his feelings that he does, after a long, pained pause, actually consider answering. Talk to me, she says, but say what? How the words of his Shield and his mortal enemy cut deeper than any soothing balm she's offered? There's no way to say something like that without it coming across as dismissive, like their opinion of him has more value than hers. And it's not that. Not at all. Just... maybe they were merely echoing things he'd already felt, and his own voice is louder than anyone else's. Still, he can't just deny her either. It's obvious that she doesn't believe the answer he'd given, and he doesn't want to fight against that truth, with how his resolve is already floundering.

He exhales, eyes shifting down between them, feeling her hand against him, and really tries.]

After Altissia... [Already his breath hitches, but- he tries again, he makes himself say it, finally-] After Luna... died... for a while, I fell apart. Ignis was recovering so we had some time, but even after we left the city, I... it's like I was on autopilot. We had to keep moving, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to talk to anyone or think about what happened, I figured as long as I was still working, it'd be enough even if my heart wasn't in it. Gladio... he got tired of it. I'm not as strong as him, and I- I know I'm not the king he wanted. I wasn't like Dad, I couldn't just pretend like the world hadn't ended...

[His fingers curl against her back. He'd never forgot those words. How could he? He knew Gladio meant them, knew what his Shield had been trying to do, and all his effort was wasted on one who refused to hear and accept it. He'd kept going, kept fighting, but he hadn't supported them when Ignis struggled, hadn't put the ring on and walked tall like his father had told him to, hadn't even fought back to prove the criticism wrong.]

I... was a coward, and he knew it. I'm sure he must've hated me for acting like a kid no one would coddle, instead of the king I was supposed to be. I don't- I don't want it to happen again. I don't want to make the people I love hate me by being this way.

[Better to tough it out and stay silent, isn't it? Even just the illusion of strength is better than not having it at all. He's not much good at faking it, but if he hides it, they won't have to know, they won't have to be disappointed by him.

Except... now she does. She knows how weak he really is.]

[ Pyra remains quiet and attentive throughout, not interrupting him as he speaks, only placing her hands soothingly, carefully upon the safe spots of his back, reassuring him to continue. She ears his breath hitch, she feels his chest tremble with a weakened-- ashamed? guilted?-- voice, and she feels his own hand tighten upon her. Pyra remains steady throughout.

To her, it sounds as if the time after Altissa had been far more stressful than anything he had encountered before. Emotions were high, all were vulnerable. Perhaps Gladio had been effected too, in however way he must have addressed Noctis to effect him so. She doubts that Gladio hates Noctis, and perhaps because of the need to push further, his method to push Noctis did help to their purpose. But it doesn't make it right. Now that Noctis has actually stopped, everything which he's pushed away has caught up with him, and the caveats of Gladio's hard-hitting encouragement are revealed to have left wounds. ] So... this is how...

[ She could cry for him. ] This is how you've been pushing on. [ Already her eyes are misting as he tumbles over his words, feeling the bite of disappointment or being called a coward all too keenly, the want to not have that happen again, the want to please others, to live up to their expectations even if it means straining oneself. While she can't relate to everything, the hurt in is voice is enough that it's all too easy to empathize.

Why does it feel as if he hasn't been truly able to mourn Luna or his father, even while here? Was he pushing that away, too? ]

If you being this way [ Sad, in her arms, confessing how he feels, ] makes you think you are weak... or is a reason for others to look down upon you....

I want to undo all of that.

[ Her hands still upon his back, staying there to hold him. ] I want to undo all of that. Because... it's not right. It's not fair to you. You have all the right to feel what you feel and say how you feel, you should have that right to feel safe doing so.

[Not right, not fair... those words shouldn't apply to him the way they do to normal people. He's just a royal or a Chosen in name alone here, but there are still people who expect it of him, aren't there? Whether here or on his world, he should be doing right by them. The stronger he is, the less cause they'll have to worry about home and the future. Crying, feeling sorry for himself- those are luxuries that the world can ill afford. Here at least he can help the world by holding her and being held, but will forming bad habits like this make things worse for everyone later?

"A king pushes onward always-"

"-never looking back-"

"You need to grow up and get over it-"

"While you dawdle, people are dying."

Their worlds still resonate, colliding and conflicting with what she's trying to offer him, and he doesn't know what to say. He is glad she isn't disappointed, or at least saying so. ...No, no, he does believe her. She's done nothing but support him, so the problem lies with him, where it belongs.]

...Why? [is his returning whisper, soft and shaken.] Why would I have that right? With so much depending on me, I... have to learn how to be a weapon. If I slack off or let myself believe otherwise, what if it carries through to Eos, or to the Crystal? If I fail, the world's over. I'll let everyone down even more that way...

[ Here, he unravels his fear and distraught with a soft whisper, and at first she can only hold him for a long, few moments of silence afterwards, pulling away just enough so that she can look at him.

He has it backwards, she thinks. Being a weapon, making it so that he only pushes on and never addresses those feelings, that is what will make him fail saving anyone. ]

You won't fail, Noct. You won't.... because it's your love for others that will push you on. [ The one thing that will undo her, what pushes her onward, is what will push him onward, too, to that same end. As tragic as it is, she feels this is true. ] That's... how it works. That's how unconditional love works.

[ That is not to disregard the temptation to stay or remain, to cling to a hope to remain, but she firmly believes that love works in this way for those like them, for whom it is necessary to help the world and the people they love: to sacrifice everything for those one truly loves. ]

So you can have that-- you can have love. [ She says to him, breathless. Her eyes are shining with a new mist to them. How she hates thinks about his fate, that one day he will leave, that one day he will be gone (even if he might appear back in Alleyn after), but she abhors even more that he feels that he must conceal his pain for it, to struggle and remain alone in it. ] You can save your world or this one. You can also feel everything you want to, joy or sadness or pain or frustration, you can tell it to others, and... it won't hinder your strength.

Noct, it's the opposite. Feeling things, letting yourself feel things.... makes you stronger than you are.

[He blinks rapidly, gazing up at her, dropping his eyes, then back again to repeat as he thinks her words over, torn between that long-ingrained belief and a desire to follow her determined reassurance. You can have love. He does want it... quietly, desperately. He wants to love, and be loved, and find happiness in the time he has left, openly and without shame, to grieve his losses, share mutual pain and comfort. But does it make him stronger? In trying to find love, to free Luna, he'd lost her, and losing her had made him push his friends away. But... blind hate is what caused him to lose Prompto, too. Fear and uncertainty meant losing his chance to make Ignis happy before he vanished.

Maybe there really is no guaranteed happiness to be found in a particular emotion. What if the problem is just... he's not strong, no matter what he feels. Not what she was going for, perhaps, but a path to the same end: if it doesn't matter, could he let himself feel more freely...?]

...But... what if I let myself feel too much? If- if I lose my resolve?

[If he loves too strongly, how will he ever let it go? His friends, his family, the life that he loves... how is he supposed to abandon all of that to fulfill his final duty? It won't matter here, but if these feelings carry through to whenever he goes back... that sort of weakness can't be allowed, surely.]

[ This is where they differ. Pyra will forever choose the world above herself, even as she longs to remain. It has never occurred to her that she could ever support her to want to. And as much as she loves Noctis and others here, that same feeling only drives her further to an end. For Noctis, it appears that he fears he feels the opposite. That love and those feelings might tempt him to stay-- to abandon his duty. That-- is that what he is saying?

Her expression turns to worry--

.....What if, he asks. What if.

--and her shoulders rise and fall with a quiet, solem breath. What if....? So be it. Noctis is not her, and this whole point is to let him feel how he feels, to think what he thinks, to come to his own conclusion, even should it be different from hers. ] --Then..... then let it. Let yourself feel anyways!

[ It comes out more emotional that she expects, desperate and pleading... blasphemous. The one thing she doesn't want for him is to lose that wonderful part of him that makes him him, his humanity, his feelings, his love, his care for others. Knowing how much he cares about the world and his family, she doubts he would choose ("choose") to save himself and sacrifice the world, if it came down to it, but that's beside the point.

She draws a breath to compose herself, unsteady and shaken at first, eyes wavering to the side and away from him, only to find their way back to meet his. They shine with her sorrow; illuminated by her crystal, they appear as starlight. When she speaks again, resolve grows within her voice. ] I.... I want you to follow your heart, more than any prophecy-- because I think your heart and the feelings there, rather than being a weapon, is the true power that can save everyone. Believe in that. [ Pyra's hands reach for his, clasping his between them. ] Believe that your heart and your feelings will save everyone.

[Let it. Let it? Feel it, feel this, this pain and longing that he's so full to bursting with, has very carefully managed ever since he woke up knowing his life is all but over. Feel the regret and resentment at all the borrowed time he's wasted not saying enough, not soon enough? The love churning beneath the surface, threatening to overthrow the blanket of duty and obligation that's kept him from sharing the parts of himself that feel unworthy of the crown he's meant to bear? Feel that, all of that?

It's... not the answer he'd expected, and for that reason above all others, the tears finally escape his stubborn eyes. With a shuddering gasp he ducks his head against her shoulder, his own trembling helplessly, fingers clutched around her like a lifeline.]

I don't want to die, [is the soft, choked whisper he utters, finally. Knowing it goes against the gods, the prophecy, the future of the world, all the expectations his family has had on him for his entire life. Feeling it, anyways.] I don't want it. I want to go back and wake up and fight alongside everyone, I want to see the dawn and rebuild the world, I want to stay with them...

[With Ignis, with Prompto, with Gladio. The people he loves. With Cor and the Crownsguard, with everyone at Caem and Hammerhead, Lestallum, all the people who've helped him and touched his life. Is the only way to thank them truly by dying? Is that the best gift he can offer the world? He'd be a lousy king, he knows, he knows, but he'd try, if he had the chance. He'd try so hard to make them proud.

And she's right, of course she's right. In that unspoken understanding, the belief she urges him to embrace, he too knows what choice he'd make, if it was him or them, if it was him or the world. There'd be no choice.

But it's not what he wants. And- if it's not pathetic, or whining, or running away- if he's allowed to feel it, here, where there are no expectations- if he's allowed to grieve for himself and everyone he's lost and will lose in the future... then, let him grieve.]

[ While one hand wraps about his back, the other raises and lifts up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his fine hair to support his collapse into her, his forehead against her shoulder. She accepts this of him, both his warmth and his grief, his sorrow and his mourning for others... as well as himself.

And, solemnly, she can't help but smile as her own shoulders relax in some relief. It is relief that comes not at his fate, not at knowing how sad he is, how helpless he might feel in this moment, but that he's allowing himself to feel this way instead of thinking it must all be abandoned in the past, the perilous trail he's made thus far. ] ...I know. [ She whispers softly, tenderly patting his upper back right between his shoulder blades. ] I know...

[ She didn't know how much pain he had been in, but she knows how this feels. When they had first met, she had asked if he had never truly mourned for his father. He hadn't, for there was no time. So too had there been no time for him to mourn for himself, and it's taken her this long to realize that.

Her cheeks are wet, and her vision remains blurred with the same tears as before. ] I know... [ She repeats for a third time, closing her eyes slowly, her hold on him tightening as tears roll over her face, marking his shirt. She, too, wants him to live. To remain, to stay, to have all of those things, to love and be loved, to be with those he loves, for him to smile and see that dawn he wants to see, what he had called beautiful. Architect, if she could give all of that to him... ]

...And I'm glad you've said it.

[He's not sure if he's glad, not yet. He can't tell what the ripples of this conversation will be, how it might affect her, affect him- affect them, as they are together. It's difficult to see beyond the next few minutes, as the future is a very frightful thing, particularly these past few months. He'd much rather focus on the now: the sound of her voice, the feel of her fingers sifting gently through his hair, the warmth of her body as he curls up against her, arms around her to hold her close. This is a luxury, one he's rarely permitted and even more rarely indulges in, but it occurs to him, crying here like this, with her kind comfort there to soothe his aching heart and his grief, that it's been Pyra doing this for him each time. She's been the one he turns to, who coaxed truths out of him when so few could, who pulled down his carefully constructed walls of dismissal and indifference and let him be himself, let him hurt and laugh and love and show it, encouraged it, even. She's been there, this whole time, to help him find himself.

He stays like that for a while, quiet and trembling, hating his own weakness but loving her all the more for allowing it. Finally, though, he lifts his head just enough to unmuffle his voice - and it's still weak and shaken, half-choked from a closed-up throat - and whispers,]

I don't want you to die, either.

[She, who's done so much for him. She, who knows and understands his fate, who accepts her own just as readily. She, who can't easily say what she wants, either. He can want this for her, too]

[ She holds onto him steadily, steadying, as he expresses his grief, not saying a word until most of his shudders have subsided. Her eyes crack open by a sliver as he addresses her, and her chest retracts with a exhaled breath. This again...?--

--Is what she's about to say, but she realizes that he's only saying it because he wants to say it. And because he wants it, he feels it, she supposes... she has to accept this, too, no matter how wrong it feels to have him shift his sorrow to her when he's obviously still in pain. It speaks to his selflessness that even at his most vulnerable he's thinking of others (of her of all people). She can't help but smile in disbelief, even as tears well anew. He truly is too... good.

It's not fair that the world must lose him. ]

Y-you know... this is supposed to be about you.

[He exhales a breath, balanced perfectly between a laugh and a sob.]

It isn't just me or you. Not anymore. That's how it's supposed to work, right?

[He's no expert on this sort of thing, but there's good reason for couples to be referred to as partners. To accept her support, he should be offering his own in return. Besides, it is still about him- what he wants, how he expresses those wants. She asked for it.]

[ He can want what he wants, he can say what he wants. She's already said the same to him before-- that she wants him to live-- but he had understood her thing, as he probably does now, that stating aloud what one wants is different from actually acting upon it, not when there is so much at risk.

Better to direct this focus back to the present, then. ]

We'll live together... for as long as we can, is that it?

...Yeah. As long as we can.

[It's all that he's allowed to ask for, he knows. All she is. There are no promises here, no guarantees. Any morning one of them could wake up alone again, could find an empty bed or even an empty house. That's how this place works. In many ways that's how life works. Just for a little while, though... he'd like to hold on to this, as long as he's able. No more taking this slice of happiness for granted.]

[ And this is what she adores about him, the quiet resolve to grasp at what he has, to hold it to him, all of it, as much as he can, no matter what or how many lights fall from his hold. If she is ever included among those lights, she'll count herself as blessed.

And, truly, she does feel incredibly fortunate, despite that she shouldn't be here. To fall for someone like him, to hold him, to be there for him, to have encouraged him to speak and express and cry what he feels about his fate (and her own)... she's wanted that for him. He doesn't need to hide his frustration any more or grief. He does not need to feel that it might make him seem weak. In her eyes, it's quite the opposite. Because he can do both, because he can state his wants and love others so freely, yet continue to be grateful for what he has and to move forward-- very few are able to do that. So very, very few. This is what makes him strong (among many other things).

Still.

It does not make it fair to him, that he must... ] Mm, Noct?

[He blinks up at her, quietly and cautiously curious, though he doesn't speak, asking only with his eyes. He's stopped trying to guess what she might say next when she says his name like that, and whatever it is, he'll accept it to some degree. He certainly owes her that much.]

I love you.

[ She says simply, plainly, looking at him as she holds him. At his best or at his most vulnerable, she continues to love him. She’ll continue to love him, no matter what he decides or what he does. ]

I love loving you.

[ She had told him before, she had never felt as if she’s only just begun living. Feelings, emotions are a part of that. She’s never felt more human until her time here. She cherished it all, especially him. ]

And I love how much you love others, too. [ To laugh with them, to cry for them, to feel sadness and pain and joy... he’s astonishingly beautiful for it. ]

If you and your family are looking for a way to change the future or past... you know my stance. But know that regardless of what you decide, I’ll still love you, okay?

[When she's finished speaking, he leans in and kisses her. How could he not? Through his grief, her words warm him more than he could ever say, a soft and steady support that comes without conditions- even, as she said, if he decides to fight his fate. And coming from her, that means so much more.

He won't fight it. He knows that already, and he hopes she knows it, too. Unless some guarantee comes about that will protect the world and still let him live, unless the result is better than what the gods have dictated for him and he knows it would be so, he won't fight it. A world that lives on is still better, even without him in it. But even if the outcome doesn't change, it still matters that she'd support him, love him. He hopes that when he dies, he'll remember he was loved.

So he kisses her, because nothing he could say would be better than loving her back and letting it be known.]

[ Her hands cup either side of his face as he kisses her, and she answers with as much emotion as she can to match his, a marriage of passion and grief. Pyra channels her sorrow for him, her love for him, her hope and her wants she would not dare speak into the kiss, her lips upon his, and wraps her love all around him. It's as easy to kiss him and hold him as it is to love him, his warmth and his body so near and soft and warm against hers. This is how she knows him, how she's come to accept him, this wonderful, dazzling person against her. Not only a king, not only a savior, but a star unto himself, the brightest she's seen. And when he's gone-- and when she returns home-- she'll hope to remember him. She'll hope to design her own constellation after him, anything, anything by which the world may remember him by, this incredible man...

Her cheeks are wet from her fallen tears, but so are his. And so she leaves his lips to kiss along his skin and the rest of his face, one quick succession of pecks after the other, tasting the salt upon his skin as if she could lift every single sorrow from him in the process. She can't-- she knows-- she can't... but she's doing her best, doing so as if she could, her hands moving past his ears to sift through his hair. ]

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