[ Mythra's eyes drop to the smile upon his lips, briefly, before raising her gaze. She wants to argue, she wants to remain that hypocrite. But if she doesn't say something now, then there will be no end to this. She needs to move forward.

How silly. In many ways she has been: forever striving towards that future in which she is no longer in it, fighting to restore this world by means of touch.... But in terms of grief, in terms of expressing herself? As of late, she's only been more closed. The memories she has witnessed of others have only served as a reminder of how much they have been hurt, and how she must listen to them, be there for them, or attempt to make the world a better place for them. Noctis comes to mind as well. There is not a day that goes by without her feeling simultaneously grateful to know him, devastated that he'll one day perish, and wondering what else she can do for him in the present.

The memory reminded her of that, of what she once lost, of what she owes to the world, to the good people within it, and what it means to truly protect them and ensure they have that chance of a future. She's not so much as shackled by her past as she is propelled by it to march one step after the next to an end.

Suddenly, everything seems so unbearably heavy.

Be brave. ]

The right reasons... [ She lets out a short exhale from her nose, echoing a laugh. ] I don't have to worry about dying by anything else. You all do.

[ She tears her gaze away from him, beginning to shift off of him.

Then, more softly: ] ...And I worry about that. A lot.