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I think you'll live. Just cherish the memory forever in your heart.

[He's trying (and failing) not to smirk over his victory.]

[ And should he ever vanish from this world before she does? That's just what she'll have to do. Softly, ]

You know I will.

[ Maybe they can recreate the memory within Elysium. That's a way around it--...

More playfully, ] Buuut, I know you're open to bribes.

What about a cake?

A cake for a recording of me playing the piano?

[It's... not a no.]

[ She nods, not intending to leave a bribe at just any cake. ] Three layers. Angel white, a glossy, mirror chocolate pour for the icing... and with a fluffy, chocolate-raspberry mousse filling in between.

[ She eyes him expectantly. Well?? Does she have a deal? ]

[....

Oh no.

Oh no, that actually sounds really good.]

You want to record it that badly?

I do.

[ ...Truthfully, it doesn't even need to be him playing piano. It could be anything. But one of her regrets with Somnus is that she has, perhaps, maybe three photos of him at most. While that ache has faded, she doesn't wish to relive that regret with Noctis, should he vanish before her. ]

I'll even add a spun sugar design of carbuncle on top.

Edited 2020-12-02 02:59 (UTC)

[Ugh...

Damn him for being so predictably and easily bribed. He really wants this cake now.]

...Fine... but the first condition still applies! And this is still assuming we can even find a piano.

[ If a piano doesn't exist, she'll commission one. Or make one herself! Suddenly, making one is ticked higher on her to-do list than a flying car. ]

Deal.

[ Aaaand she's taking the last bite of her breakfast. It's extra-satisfying. ]

I look forward to the concert.

Okay, but don't blame me if it doesn't live up to expectations.

[He can't even be mad. He's happy she's treating herself, even if it's a little unorthodox.

He pokes at his own plate, scooping up the last of the fruit. Weird as it is... overall, not bad for a mystery meal. He should save a piece for Ignis, maybe someone can figure out how to recreate it. Though that would mean explaining himself... hrngh...]

[ Rising from her seat, she takes her plate to bring to the sink. The rest of the meal remains within its pan upon the countertop, and her gaze lingers on it before she begins to clean. ]

Mm, Noct?

Are you doing anything for the rest of the morning?

[ If not, perhaps... they might sit together outside and talk about this. ]

[He stands with her, joining her at the counter and gathering the other dishes. He did the clueless cooking, it wouldn't be very courteous to leave the mess all over the counter. Especially with Ignis in the house now- poor guy might end up with his hand stuck in old batter just trying to find coffee when he's up.]

Not really. Got something you want to do?

[The way she's asking, he assumes he hasn't forgotten any plans they already had...]

Um, yes, I--

[ Their hands brush while washing the dishes together in the sink, but the touch is accentuated by her fingers grasping onto his palm, which she squeezes. ]

...Truthfully, I want to talk more about [ A pause. ] these memories of yours. If it's not too upsetting...

[Ah. That.

He exhales softly, reluctant, but he curls his fingers lightly around hers and doesn't object.]

Can't just ignore it, huh. [Wouldn't that be nice... albeit unhealthy, and he knows it.] I don't know what to say, though... I didn't get any answers, far as I can remember, and I haven't got anybody to ask.

[ Beneath the faucet, the water washes the soap off their hands. ] Then... let's work through it, together.

[ After giving his a squeeze, she takes her hand back, placing the dishes atop of a drying rack. ] I'll make some tea. [ With extra sugar, just for him. ] Meet me on the porch?

[Whether he wants it or not, he won't deny that this feels important. Running away... it really won't help anything. It's just going to get worse and worse, and he won't be prepared to deal with the inevitability of it. That's scarier than trying to unearth whatever truth this is.]

Yeah... yeah, okay. See you in a minute.

[He musters a smile for her - hoping she'll maybe worry less - and grabs his jacket and boots, heading out the back into the garden with some scraps from the fridge. May as well give the other household critters breakfast while he waits.]

[ She meets him on the step just outside their living room doors that lead into their yard. Taking a seat beside him, she presses one of the mugs into his hands whenever he's done feeding their assortment of pets. Steam steadily rises from the lip of the glass, aromatic, floral, and sweet, liquid comfort to anxious senses in a cup.

She raises the mug to her lips, taking her first sip as the thinks of where to begin...

Perhaps, she should begin to question the extent of which it's effected him. ]

Is this... happening more frequently? These memories, coming to you like this...

[He holds the mug between both hands, blowing softly on the tea as he considers the question. The ambiance is soothing; just a few short minutes and the break (alongside some animal TLC) has done him some good already, leaving him calmer and slightly more willing to talk.]

Not... frequently, I don't think. Not that I've noticed. I dunno if that's better or worse... it isn't something I want to get used to, if you get me. But if this is gonna be a thing then I can't ignore it forever.

[He doesn't want disturbing flashbacks to someone else's life to become the new normal; it was fine when it happened a month or two ago because it was universal, everyone was dealing with the same stuff. Instead it's almost like Era and her Echo, a version of "normal" that she's more used to but can feel, to others, kind of... unsettling, when it sinks in. Memories shared at random without permission from either party, a divinely issued 'power' from a crystal. Thinking about it like that, it's one more eerie similarity. One upside is that at least he doesn't have to look people in the eye after getting their memory.]

[ Whether it's better or worse, she cannot say for the moment, but that it happens without him noticing and without prompting is one of the more unsavory parts to it.

She reaches for his hand, keeping her tea held in her other. ] I... presume you've never attempted to access specific memories yourself, have you? Or looking for one in particular, through whatever your crystal has granted you?

[He shows no resistance to her pull, winding his fingers around hers. The warmth is nice, one more source alongside the tea.]

I haven't tried. It's... different than the ring, I think. Like- the scale of it freaks me out. Whose memories are they? How many are there? With the ring, I can just be like, "Okay, King Votivus, it's your turn, what've you got to say?" But whatever's this is... it's a buried mess, and I don't know if it's an itch or an avalanche. If I go digging, what if I get too much? What if I can't stop it?

[He's still himself now. But if he drowns in the memories of others due to poking the proverbial bear, what could happen to his own memories...?]

[ She sees his point. It would be like casting a line into the deepest part of the ocean looking for one thing; he would loose the hook, the line, and the rod itself, and risk being pulling into the maelstrom.

"--what if I get too much? What if I can't stop it?" ]

How much is there? Of those memories. [ Not long ago, she had guessed aloud that it had been as if he received memories of those who came before. But perhaps-- or so she hopes-- she is wrong. Perhaps there is a limit?

A better question is how he might even know, if he's only been experiencing a trickle of them, but she wonders if he has some sort of feeling to its depths (or lack thereof). ]

[He purses his lips at that, his fingers tightening subtly around hers.]

I don't know. [The truth.] A lot. [The fear.

He ducks his head, his voice quieter as he continues.]

I don't know how to describe it except that it's... heavy. Like I'm just feeling the cracks in some huge wall, and if I just pull out the wrong brick the whole thing'll come down on me- not just a few bad memories but a lot of everything. You ever think about something and all you can feel is alarm bells going off in your head, that maybe it's a bad idea to go deeper?

[ At feeling his hand tighten upon hers, her fingers quickly interlace with his, securing their hold. She lets him speak, and the tension within both his touch and his tone is obvious. His metaphor strikes true; blindly pulling at one memory and the next, he means that it's only a matter of time before he's swallowed by it all.

She responds, ]

I can.

[ Digging deeper into who she is, the depths of her own memories-- before she had been herself (or they had been, as they are more than just two, a triumvirate unknown, and more--) is frightening. She feels as if she could lose herself-- or, no. Not quite. For her, it's different. She feels as if she were to lose herself, she would become who she is supposed to be. Just a crystal, just a third of the Trinity, who ought to be whole. The fear, she supposes, comes from the human part of her mourning the potential loss of a human self-- even when she can guess that if she is to fully return to not being human, there would be no mourning.

It hurts her head, but this isn't about her. ]

I know what you're feeling.

[ Or, something like it, she supposes. Close enough, and yet: ] I... had worried, before, when you mentioned being both human and crystal. [ At the time, his words has been a means to meet her in some sort of patchwork middle between them after a heated, tenuous talk. The comparison to her had served its purpose, but now... ] I'd rather you be all of yourself.

I'd rather you have all of your own memories to call your own, and not be lost in others'.

[ A way-- a way to secure his memories, or guide him back should he be lost in that ocean of them... Is there a way? Her brow furrows as she thinks. ]

[He's quiet for a long moment, thinking carefully on her words, on the implications behind them. Pyra is one of the few uniquely qualified to perhaps understand the gravity of what this could mean, and that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind is growing increasingly intense the more he considers exactly where these visions or thoughts or memories could have come from.

The biggest thing that changed was...]

...Pyra. [He takes a deep breath, looking up abruptly, though not at her.] Being alive for hundreds of years... you must've seen and experienced a lot. You're carrying a lot of memories just on your own, right?

[Even if she was locked away for so long, even if she didn't exist as herself until more recently, Mythra was there, she's controlled ancient artifices, her father is some kind of creator god-]

[ She looks up at him, still distracted by her thoughts of how to best go about trying to help him through this. Is it possible to even mitigate the severity of the memories he receives, or perhaps cap the deluge from overwhelming him? Like a sink, a shutter, or something else... ]

Er, yes.

[ She has something to say, but she feels as if he's about to continue to a point, so she waits for him to continue. ]

[Rather than continue, he looks away again, peering down at his tea quietly before taking a sip. Easy, easy. There's no need to fall into a panic yet, just because he's forming... suspicions. Nothing's confirmed. Maybe it's nothing, maybe he's wrong. He needs to think carefully, figure this out.

Closing his eyes to force away that dread for a moment, he backtracks.]

Do you think there's a way to... I don't know, reinforce it? The wall?

[Whatever it is that's holding these memories back, it's protecting him, isn't it? If a few trickle through once in a while, that's livable so long as the majority stay buried. He'd... be okay with that, he thinks. Hopes.]

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