carbungle | IC Contact

[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. ]

IC Contact | Hugtopia

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