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[ It’s Pyra to greet him at the door with a warm smile, only for that expression to turn to one of gentle puzzlement at the package, then to amusement. She has to wonder— did someone send him a package for his birthday? But the thought is dismissed once she steps closer and sees that it’s obviously one delivered from the temple. ] Need a little help?

[ Her tone is fond as she goes to the opposite side of the box, hands slipping beneath the bottom. ] On three....

[She gets a brief and grateful smile in return, and after the countdown they lift together and bring the box inside, pushing the coffee table aside to make space. It only takes a minute after that to get the box open to confirm his suspicion: sure enough, the Star of the Rogue, gleaming and sharp as the first time he'd seen it. Like the rest of the Arms, at first glance it looks legit, but like each time before he's still surprised to see one here.]

Thought so... it's one of the Royal Arms.

[ The weapon is unlike any throwing star she's seen before, and her eyes widen in both surprise and awe. ]

It's... beautiful. [ She notes quietly, extending her hand out as if to inspect it but stops herself. This weapon, like the shield he had called out, and Somnus' blade, ...must have belonged to a past king or queen. ]

The wreath of wings at its center is beautiful.

Yeah, the motif's especially good on it, I think, though they've all got at least one wing. This one's the Star of the Rogue.

[He crouches down, half-reaching for it, before he stops and glances around the room, gauging how much space they have.]

...You should probably stand back, it moves pretty fast.

[Wouldn't be good to get his girlfriend stabbed ~~again~~]

[ She stands back as told, folding her hands together.

He's going to throw that massive thing here? Pyra does not doubt his skills. Truly, he must be an expert even at this weapon... ]

[Not so much throw- yet. First, he needs to ensure that the Armiger will resonate with it the same way it did at home. Once she's a safe distance away, he holds his hand a few inches over the star and silently reaches out to it, calling its soul to his. And as it always did on Eos, it flashes a blinding white and lifts up into the air, nearly to the ceiling, twists itself around and lashes out to stab into his chest, disappearing inside with a gleaming blue light. In a split second the whole Armiger activates, and every Royal Arm he's acquired here apparates to spin around him in translucent crystalline form: Somnus' blade, the shield, the Wanderer's joined daggers, and now the star. It's normal in every way except one:

This time, he feels it. He feels it like a freight train.]

[There's a sharp sting of the blade carving its way inside, fleeting and bloodless, but this time it's joined by a memory, and he flinches instinctually as it sinks into his chest. He remembers what hasn't happened yet, his vision from her crystal, the destiny and doom that awaits him on Eos. He remembers the slow but certain death by blade, after blade, after blade, from the Wise to the Father, stabbing, stabbing without pause until his life is-

He staggers back a few steps, the Armiger shattering like glass around him as he grasps at the material of his shirt, over his heart where the star had struck him. Gods. Is that why? Is that- every time, were they training him on how to die, even with this?

He feels sick, suddenly.]

Noct--

[ Wondrous as it is to be able to witness him acquiring another weapon of his legacy (so that is how the Royal Arms transfer to him-- almost as if the spirit of the weapon is lifted from the iron itself), it does nothing to help the shock that follows. The phantom form of the star propels into him, and she startles in a step forward, a hand half reached out to him as if she could stop it from happening. She recalls the vision-- she doesn't know that this is the normal way in which he assimilates the Arms' power-- and his stagger back tells her that something is wrong.

She immediately goes to him, her hand over his that is clutching his chest, as if checking for a wound that's not there. Her eyes snap up to meet his in surprise, then down again to their touch. Her fingers curl over the back of his hand, and she bows her head. ]

Wh--....are you hurt? Are you alright? How are you still standing?

[ Isn't this the normal reaction to someone being stabbed with a phantom weapon... ]

No- [He manages the word in little more than a hoarse whisper, and he swallows hard to try and clear it.] N-no. It doesn't- it's always like that. I'm fine, just...

[His hand slowly and reluctantly releases its iron grip on his shirt, turning to hold on to her instead. It was just... a vision. Just a memory. It hasn't happened, it doesn't have to mean anything.]

I'm not... hurt. It surprised me, that's all.

[ He's surprised-- she's surprised, too! Relieved, but still surprised. His hand adjusts to hold her own, and she looks back up at him carefully, as if trying to discern for any attempt on his part to brush this off. If this is supposedly always how he acquires an Arm, then his surprise and being shaken must come from one thing. ]

When I... saw that sword fly towards you-- [ Her brow knits, her shoulders tensing together. It had felt as if there was nothing she could do. Pyra isn't fast enough to block a weapon homing at that speed-- not so unexpectedly, anyway. But Mythra, had she been awakened.... Ah, no. Best to not pursue that thought. Mythra ought to remain sealed, she reminds herself.

Inhaling, then exhaling, she meets his eyes. ] I was scared for you. Do they have be acquired like... just like that? [ A ghost-stabbing, as it were. ]

...Yeah. I- ...me too.

[It was scary, something it hadn't really been since the first few times while he was getting used to it. Who wouldn't be startled by a blade suddenly flying at their vitals? But after a while it just became something else to get used to. Like the headaches, like the covenants, like the steady downward spiral his life had become... swords flying at him became pretty commonplace compared to everything else.

Now, though...]

I don't know if they have to, that's just how it's always happened. The swords do it themselves, I think. The only one that never did that was Dad's.

[He doesn't know if it's because his father's soul was trying to be kind at Noct's lowest moment, or because his powers had been messed up at the time. He'd prefer to think the former; the other kings wouldn't have known or cared about him enough to be gentle. He hesitates, then adds cautiously,]

It felt like... that vision.

[ —The vision of the future, his fate upon the throne.

Pyra glances away, biting softly upon her bottom lip. Yes, she recalls it too, vividly: the brutal sacrifice through which he must to sit while all the kings and queens to the past held vigil. How could she not? She witnessed it. She had been the one to give him that vision.

Worry and guilt suddenly cross her expression. ]

It... is foreshadowing. Isn’t it.

[ Her hand lifts from his chest, palm gently pressing to his cheek. A knot between her brows conveys her earnestness. ]

Everything hurts you.... even when it’s meant to help. [ Maybe it’s not even intentional, maybe that’s the way such power works in his world. The silver lining that he can help others with more power only goes so far. ]

I’m sorry.

[Foreshadowing... such a nice and academic way of phrasing it. It really does feel more like they'd been training him on the steps of his sacrifice, and there's little comfort to be found in that. What use is there to cause him pain any step of the way, when he'd been raised for this and couldn't turn away from it even if he wanted to? It just seems so needless...

Still, he doesn't like that his fate is causing her grief again, so he reaches his hand up to curl around her fingers, gently shaking his head.]

It's... okay. [Or it's close enough that he can bury it, anyway.] I'm used to that by now. Just need some time to adjust to this too.

[ She doesn't like this, how he's supposed to push through it every single time-- and he truly does seem to have terrible circumstances, or terrible luck, or terrible everything when it comes to many things happening here in Havenwell... as well as his own home. It's bleak, it's awful. She doesn't believe him, that he's okay. ]

Thirteen you said..... will the rest appear here for you, too?

[ Is he going to have a flashback (or forward) to that vision every single time, she wonders... ] ...And is there anything I can do to help?

...I don't know. [To both questions, honestly. He wishes he had a better answer for her.] There isn't much to do. I have to collect the Arms- if they show up here, it would be bad if I just shut them away in a closet somewhere. I don't even know if I can do that.

[He didn't have to touch the Royal Arms to activate them- he'd only ever reached out in their direction and they'd been drawn towards him like magnets, like they were meant to be together. Even with the unpleasantness of that memory, he doubts he could bear the thought of not collecting them if they were here.]

It's bad for a few seconds, but the payoff is worth it. I'm stronger like this, and that's good, isn't it? Maybe they're showing up for a reason.

[ Her thumb brushes over his palm as she holds his hand. ] That's... I agree. The more power you have, the more you might be able to help others.

[ Should he be able to use it effectively, anyway, which she doesn't doubt.

She also doesn't doubt that there might still be some straggling beasts in the areas the barrier had expanded to. Even still, there might be another day where the barrier might shatter again like before. This power is his birthright, one he can use to defend. ] You think that... the deities are giving you weapons like this to prepare for something?

Don't know that either.

[His expression looks torn between doubt and concern.]

I've stopped trying to predict why gods do anything, either home or here. Maybe they recognize what we're doing and are trying to reward me, but the method isn't perfect. Maybe they're giving back what they stole when they brought me here.

[There's a handful of options, and not all of them are great, but not all are bad, either.]

Either way, not like I can say no. If I need them, I'll have them. If I don't, then it's no harm done.

[ A good thing, she thinks, to never conclude on an assumption of the powers-that-be. Such folly had led to ruin in her own world, when they had made such assumptions. Noctis provides a more casual attitude regarding the practicality of the gift.

So, she nods. ] ...Alright. [ She forms a smile for him, but it's not as grand as it may have been when she first greeted him at the door. ]

Noct... may I ask you something?

[He glances sidelong at her, his brow quirked.]

You don't have to ask me that every time- just say it. You can ask me anything.

[He can't guarantee a decent answer every time, but he won't begrudge her questions.]

[ There may come a time, she fears, that he does not wish to talk. Or a time in which he feels like he doesn't want to answer questions. This is why she is careful. ]

That vision... That future... is it worth knowing?

[A heavy question, and one he has to consider for a long moment. One that deserves consideration. He frowns, his brows furrowed. The concept of "worth" is a little too flexible to give a blanket answer. What had he traded away, and what for? His own peace of mind for a slice of the future? Any hope that he could live to see the end of this journey had been taken away by the Draconian. Her vision had only let him see the method of his demise. So what was that worth?]

Things... have changed a lot since that day, haven't they? [He glances down at their hands.] I made some decisions that I don't know if I could've without the right push.

[ When he glances down, her fingers shift to interlace with his, and she brings their held hands between them.

If he had made a decision to be with her because of that awful vision... ] I wish it could have been a gentler push.

No... it's not just that. [He shakes his head, a little frustrated with himself; he's bad at explaining himself on a good day, nevermind when he's feeling so conflicted and screwed up from acquiring the Arm again. But she'd asked, and... it's important that she know.] Like I said, I already knew. It'd been a different worry to carry- I'd been told I had to die, but how? Would I get there, would it be enough to bring the sun back? How could my life be worth that much? I wasn't given the chance to consider any of it, or ask questions. It was the same as it always goes with the Astrals. Just accept their word and don't question anything. Don't look for answers when you know they won't come.

[He hesitates, his gaze still lowered, then lifts their joined hands so he can press his lips briefly against the back of her palm, raising his eyes to seek hers.] You... you gave me a lot, that day. An answer for myself was one of them, something Bahamut wouldn't offer. And you let me choose to be selfish, to... to do something I wanted to. [To kiss her, to let her kiss him.] Any vision that helps me realize I shouldn't waste time on wanting and not acting... that's worth it, to me.

[ She listens in silence as he explains himself. The more he talks, the firmer he seems to become with his answer, as if he's determined to have her understand and accept it. That firmness in his tone, accompanied by the tender kiss upon her hand, is what's needed for her to accept that he means it. That it is worth it. It's terrible that he was hurt, and he cannot help his reaction to the reminder of the vision, but even so... he doesn't wish to "waste time", to not act.

She remains saddened, yes, that he must suffer at all, but.. It's moments like these where she's in awe of him, to turn something so harrowing into what can only be described as a power of the spirit, noble and profound.

And, privately, she realizes that it's this trait of his that has made him quite attractive to her. ] O...okay. [ She replies after a moment, quiet.

Then, as if finding her voice again: ] ....I.... understand. [ She feels the same way with her own circumstances. ] And I love this part about you.

[Her response helps him smile again, tentative and hopeful.]

That's... that's good. [He exhales, briefly closing his eyes in relief.] I thought- I didn't want you to believe it was your fault, or that I chose this for the wrong reason, or- I don't know. I'm not good at this. But I want you to know that this is my choice, now and back then. If I didn't mess that part up, then that's what matters. [A beat, and then-] I think. Right?

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