hugtopia_logs | ♥ April (Lasai) Event Log

♥ April (Lasai) Event Log

a red cardinal perching on a thin branch with pink flowers

April (Lasai) Event Log
This Lasai marks one year since the outer walls moved, expanding Havenwell for the first time in centuries. The natives are commemorating this event in their own ways, watching the walls for any further changes just in case. With the turning warmer and spring sweeping through the city, it's natural for them and the offworlders to expect something new and exciting to happen. This year, however, it seems they should have been watching for something other than the walls...

❥ PROMPT I: Life Has Many Doors

an open door in a wall, with painted arrows and a lighted arrow-shaped sign all pointing to it

Whether closed, open, or slightly cracked ajar, mysterious doorways have begun to appear all across Havenwell. They could be in the entryway to your closet, in the middle of the street, or perhaps directly in your path for you to stumble unwittingly into, and they seem to have absolutely no compunction about appearing wherever and at whatever time.

If one crosses the threshold through the door whether through intent or by accident, they will find themselves in another place, at another time...

Beyond the doors lie moments in time--past incidents a character may regret, wish they could change, or an instance where they were completely happy. Or, even potential futures they worry may or may not come to pass. In order to leave and return to the present in Havenwell, one need only join hands with another and speak about their feelings; why they regret doing or not doing something, what they fear or anticipate about their future, or any such truth that might indicate why the specific moment is being shown to them beyond the doorway. To facilitate this, doorways may either link up to that of another Havenwell offworlder's, or lead into a sort of featureless limbo until the same door is used by another.

❥ PROMPT II: Hatoful Bombardment

With everyone preoccupied with the mysterious doors appearing and whisking people away, the shimmering of the barrier might go unnoticed. The color has been so strong lately that people might think it's oily sheen over the blue sky is even normal by now. Then, one day, that sheen is suddenly dotted with tiny ripples, like raindrops hitting water. Not many people may notice this phenomenon right away, but when hundreds upon hundreds of birds suddenly burst through these ripples? They definitely take notice. Flocks of birds swarm en masse through the barrier all at once and then the ripples harden and disappear. They seem confused and scatter throughout the city, bringing with it all sorts of trouble.

These birds are all different species, sizes, and colors - from recognizable ones like the rainbow chickens to strange ones with inky black feathers and bright iridescent eyes. They appear to be completely wild, completely natural birds, however, and act as birds do: fighting for territory, nesting, eating - and boy do they fight, nest, and eat! Offworlders and natives alike will have to deal with the nuisance of these birds chittering, chattering, and screaming at all hours of the day as they try to nest in the city, in the trees, and in the eaves and roofs of people's houses and businesses. They fight with the temple animals - especially Diacht's crows and Rawna's dragonlings - and hunt Ainea's mice. They hassle people's gardens and the botanical gardens looking for food, and make messes trying to eat the leftover replicator goo and any bits of food or chocolate still hanging around.

People are free to try and catch, kill, or eat these birds if they can, but their meat is usually tough and gamey, and soon the zoo and conservationists are overrun with specimens and refuse to take more. By the end of the month, as the event comes to a close, most of the birds that are still free will suddenly begin swarming back towards the barrier and...disappear back through it? ...huh.

❥ PROMPT III: A Feather A Day

an arrangement of small feathers in bright rainbow colors

One by-product of all these birds in town is an overabundance of feathers. Long, short, stubby, colorful, black, grey, white, spotted, striped, iridescent - there's so many different types that the natives are going absolutely gaga for them all! This is the first time in a long time that they've had so many natural materials to create things from that the costumers, tailors, artists and other creatives in town are clamouring for more, more, more! The feathers begin to make appearances as decorations for headpieces, capes, sashes, bags, digital pens, epaulettes, bracelets, necklaces, artwork - you name it and it has feathers in it! Some enterprising natives even try incorporating it into food before they realize that they're inedible. With this massive demand comes a big business opportunity for people willing to go out and gather up the feathers, clean them of any gunk, sort them, and bring them to the natives. So long as the feathers are in good, useable condition, native artisans will pay a nice sum of Dora for bags of them and will actively ask characters to sell feathers to them.

However, it seems some feathers carry more than just a Dora price tag. Being in proximity or possession of feathers can sometimes have...unexpected effects on the offworlders.

Fluff for You, Fluff for Me: Your character will randomly and optionally painlessly sprout feathers. They can sprout from anywhere on your character's body, and can be in addition to or replace parts of them. For example, you can have feathers sprout from your hair, or have your hair turn into feathers. You can have feathers pop out of your wrists or have your fingers turn into wingtips. Pulling the feathers out does sting a little, but new feathers will simply grow back in their place and even runs the risk of having more feathers grow in new places. The only way to rid yourself of these is to wait the effect out after dumping your gathered feathers, or physical contact with another person.
Light as a Bird: After gathering up your feathers, your character will begin to feel lighter and lighter until they begin to lift off the ground entirely! Characters who can fly may have no problem with this, but others might find it quite disturbing when they suddenly float off the ground. No matter how hard you try, or how much control you usually have over your flight, it seems that you cannot return to the ground until you either wait for the effect to end after you get rid of your gathered feathers or grab and hold onto another offworlder for a few minutes. The highest you seem to float is up to two stories in the air, and as the effect wanes you gradually get heavier and heavier until you sink back to the earth. When up in the air, characters usually, but not always, tend to bob around like a balloon as if they're stuck in a zero gravity environment.
I Gotta Tweet About This: After incurring this effect, a character's speech will gradually and randomly turn into birdsong, chirping, twittering, and tweets. It can be every word, every other word, just certain words, or any combination you like, but when your character speaks, what comes out of their mouth will be the call of a bird and not their normal voice. Characters are free to try and interpret their friends' songs to find meaning, and characters can have their bird song be from one bird or multiple if they wish. The tweeting will continue so long as you are in possession of the feathers, or until you are able to get some sustained physical contact.

These effects can happen at any time when the feathers are close to your character, and you can even stack them if you like! They will linger even after a character dumps the feathers for a few hours, but for no longer than 24 hours at a time after getting rid of your feathers, whether it's by selling, gifting, dumping, burning or other methods. If characters pick up new feathers after getting rid of their old ones, it's possible for the effects to continue or for new effects to happen. The type of feather your character picks up has no bearing on what effect they incur.

This event will run from April 15 to April 30th. Click on each prompt's title to see the text. If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the FAQ or to the Mod Question thread. You can also use the Havenwell Status page or the General Plotting Comment to give you other ideas for original prompts!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He follows along with it, shifting into a quiet, casual sway. Nothing formal (not that he's the best at it anyway) but his goal right now is to hold her close and give her what she's asking for, so he won't focus on the technicalities or the silence of the room.]

I'd guess that it's less a custom that you can't dance, and more that no one ever does. But who's gonna stop us here?

[This is... what, a dream? A vision? Some hallucination or virtual reality? He's king here, he's king at home. Whether he wanted it or not, this room belongs to him now, so he's allowed to make it his own.]

[ She's not so naive to believe that a single dance or a distraction will take away all the melancholy that hovers over him in this room, but she hopes she can facilitate a small piece of time that he can make his. And so, she adjusts to how he's swaying, moving slightly and slowly in a small turn along with him. ]

No one.

[ She smiles sweetly, answering his rhetorical question just because. ]

Epsecially because you're just so difficult to say 'no' to in the first place, anyway.

I should be the one saying that to you- you suggested it, after all.

[He has a hard time saying no to her, too. He'd never have started dancing in this room without her influence. Even now it does feel somewhat... would sacrilegious be the word for it? This is the location of what could be considered a divinely ordained event, and the crystal's right there. At the very least it's somewhat disrespectful to the dynasty. He can practically hear the entire council gossiping in the stands.

He doesn't care. He won't stop unless he's given very good reason to.]

[ She looks up at him, her expression fond. She's always liked how, in the times they've shared a few dances before, his bangs would also sway slightly with his movement, coming down just above his blue eyes. ]

Well, is there anything you want to do in this room? Specifically.

[ He sat on the throne. They're dancing now. Surely there's a bucket list of things he wants, but never had the chance to say or do in the throne room. ]

Ah... I don't know. [Slowly he spins her, drawing her back in quickly, like he can't bear being apart for too long in this morbid room.] Maybe make some ridiculous proclamation. A new law to get rid of a stupid custom I always hated as a kid.

[ When they return after the spin, his hands feel warm where they sit upon her body. She turns with him. ]

What about a law to give you cake every morning?

I like the sound of that. [Cake every day... he could have that already, as king. But a law for cake sounds like something that would make kids smile, and that's just the sort of king he'd rather be.] When I was little, I said I wanted a law where no one had to eat vegetables on August 30th.

[ August 30th-- his birthday. What a whimsical law that would be-- imaginary, a child's dream, but one that's fun to picture, just because. She chuckles softly. ] I think you'd be celebrated throughout all the land, if you made a law like that...

[ She continues dance slowly with him, swaying occasionally, turning with him, sometimes slowly spinning out, then coming back to him, her arms draping back over his shoulders. She smiles at him again.

Would that he had the chance to make any laws during his reign. He probably could have been a wonderful ruler, she thinks-- he certainly has the foundations of one, even if he may not see it himself. Firm in his beliefs, wanting to do good, uplifting others when it counts, leading, inspiring...

She asks, carefully: ] ....Did you... have other ideas like that?

Such as... what you envisioned for Lucis.

Mm... I dunno. I didn't have any grand plans, at least not in detail.

[Her caution is fair, and it is met with a similar tone; thinking about what-ifs can be whimsical, but also a little tragic, at the same time. None of this will ever happen, and he'd spent more time worrying about failing to meet expectations following his father's death, rather than pondering specific policy changes.]

I'd have wanted to be out of the city, fighting the Nifs or helping out like my dad did before he took the crown. I was never any good at the policy stuff, Ignis handled all of that way better than me. Wonder if Insomnia would've minded being ruled by a steward instead?

[It would be a sight to see. Ignis probably would never sit the throne - too much of a stickler for rules - but he could take a desk on the lower level and deal with it all just as effectively as any king. Noct could be outside the walls causing all the chaos he could muster knowing his home was in good hands.]

[ A steward and a king, leading together... It could have worked. No ruler of which she knows of her own world had ever been alone, and he wouldn't have been less of a king, she believes, for letting another handling policy.

All hypothetical, though. All a dream that will be unrealized.

She brings one hand forward over his shoulder, back up to his neck, then to the side of his cheek, turning his head to face hers. ] For what it's worth, Noct...

I think that you would have made a wonderful king. You... have to ability to inspire, that so very few have.

So you've said.

[It isn't the first time, and it likely won't be the last. Pyra's among the top believers in his capabilities, which is a blessing even on days he struggles to believe in himself.

Still, he offers up a steady smile, looking back at her with grateful affection. It's easy to believe in her belief in him, if that makes any sense.]

So what should I inspire you to do, huh?

[ The affection in his eyes is met with a warmer look from her own. She still smiles at him still, her thumb brushing over his cheek. ] To be brave... But I think, you already do that.

[ She almost adds-- to be brave, even when on one's own. This doesn't just apply to when they're not in each other's presence, but it is something either of them might have to contend with, should either of them leave before the other. They've already talked about it at length, but she supposes that if, in his world, he inspires his "brothers" as much as he inspires her, they, too, will be brave... even when he is gone.

...And that's... wonderful. Sad, but wonderful. That's far more of a legacy than any mural, tomb, or flowers laid down in his honor. He might bring the dawn back to his world, but far more powerful than that light is the inspiration he will bring. She's sure of it. ]

I think... that's your legacy. Your inspiration you give others.

My legacy, huh...

[He glances around the throne room, taking note of how empty it is, how quiet and grim this room has become in the time since he left it. He'd never have wanted this for his home, and his father certainly wouldn't have, either. Destruction and death... this doesn't belong in the refined halls of the Citadel, where so many have led good and noble lives sacrificing time and energy for the people who loved them.

He closes his eyes for a long moment. A legacy... of inspiration. He likes that, truly. Inspiration can last so much longer than the human lifespan, it can stretch across countries and generations. The gods inspired praise and admiration for the sacrifices they made centuries ago for the people of their star. The Cosmogony inspired people to believe in legends and fairy tales. The Oracle inspired people to be kind and giving to those in need, and to hope for the future.

If the King of Light can leave the world inspired by the sun, even in death... that would be a pretty amazing legacy.]

I hope so... I hope you're right. I wanna be known for something good.

[ She's seen it, time and time again, how values and ideals survive the people who make them, lasting far longer than any cathedrals, castles, and cities they've built. She's sure of it-- that beyond the light he brings, beyond whatever the future might say of him-- he'll inspire others. How there was once a king, a prince, a young man who persevered through anything thrown at him, who struggled but overcame, who fought for the people he loved, who was a good friend, who helped those in need...

Architect, but he could have been a wonderful king like that, if he had wanted-- and if what he had said before is any indication, he'd also have the wisdom to know in which areas he was lacking to rely on a friend, while he focused his own strengths elsewhere. But she cannot focus on what could or would have been, but for the future that comes after it and the courage he'll give everyone who inherits the world with light after him.

How could anyone not love this man?

The dance slows naturally, and soon they're left swaying in the hall together. Her voice lowers, and this time, her words do not echo. This is only for him. ]

You're good in all the best ways, Noct. [ Even without sacrifice. ]

That so... [It's not a question. He doesn't need her to say it to know that she believes it. He lifts his head to press his lips against her forehead, soft and grateful.] It's because I've had all the best people supporting me.

[He opens his mouth to say more, but whatever it may have been dies on his lips as the doors at the front of the throne room open noisily, and footsteps cut through the otherwise silent hall. Noctis stiffens against Pyra immediately, his hands clenching against her, staring into the dark as those steps grow closer and closer. It doesn't take long for a figure to emerge from the shadows: the older Noctis he'd faced in a mirror last year, bearded, weary, clad in a suit caked in dirt, blood, and rain. He shows no indication of seeing them, even with the noise that escapes his younger counterpart's throat. He's headed right for the throne and does not stop as he passes the pair.

Noctis can only stare.]

Wh... what is this...? I thought...

[It was empty, it was empty and nothing happened, they were safe and happy. Why is he here now?]

[ She holds his gaze, her own expression adoring as he pulls back from the forehead-kiss and appears about to say something else. When instead she hears heavy doors open behind them and turns to see his older self walk into the throne room, that expression fades. His older self looks even wearier than she remembers him to have been, as if he's just stepped out from a battle. Why is he alone? she thinks at first, but she already knows the reason. Pyra's head whips back to Noctis, worry lifting her brows as he remains transfixed upon the other version of himself.

What is this? He whispers. It's not just a throne room, then, but a vision of the future. Perhaps the very one they've seen before. Suddenly, she feels a flash of anger, frustration-- so unlike her, but instant-- after all they've done, after everything he's already gone through, how cruel it is for him to have to see it again? But that feeling fades as soon as she focuses back on him.

She keeps her voice calm. ] Noct....

Noct.

[ Her hand falls from his shoulder to grasp his hand, she steps forward, turning to face him, partially obstructing his view as his older self ascends the steps. ] What do you want to do?

[ Agency. Autonomy. Anything. Does he want to watch this again, or does he want to turn away? She won't judge him either way, all she wants to do for him right here and right now is support him. ]

[Noctis doesn't answer at first, staring past her to continue watching his older self rise up the steps. The click of his shoes echo in the room, resonating through his heart. Like a countdown clock, ticking in his ear. He knows what's going to happen when he reaches the top- when he sits on the throne. To crown the King of Light is the calling of the Crystal-

He doesn't want to. Should he? He's terrified, which feels absurd, when examined at a distance. He's seen this. The vision showed him, Bahamut told him. Knowing and seeing it happen shouldn't... it shouldn't be...

His hand tightens against hers.]

What else would we be here for...?

[That's the logical standpoint, right- he shouldn't let himself be carried away by his tumbling emotions. If he looks away, he'll hear it. If he blocks it out, will this room just force it upon him over and over until he bears witness to whatever it wants from him? This place can be so kind, but... also so cruel. Better to cooperate than them both suffer it more than once. Even if-

I don't want to, he wants to say, so badly. His gaze shifts to her, desperate and half-panicked. Should I? I don't want to.

The king reaches his throne, hand brushing over the cold metal of the arm.]

...I'm home. I walked tall...

[ It's true-- she doesn't know what the criteria is to leave this realm, other than perhaps remaining engaged in touch, which they're already doing. Still, it's reasonable to assume that his assumption is correct, that these pocket realms want such visions to be beheld, to--

In that moment, she catches his expression, softly pleading, desperate, vulnerable unlike she's never seen him before, as if seeking permission for something. (No-- she's seen him once like it before. Once, when he had been trembling, unable to breathe in her arms.)

"And though it took me a while... I'm ready now."

Enough.

He's already seen his death through the vision she had given him the year prior. Nothing this vision shows will be new, nothing that he hadn't already known or felt the foreshadowing ripples of by the Arms colliding into him. It'd would be torture to witness it again. Once is enough, it's enough-- ]

Noct...

[ She pulls him closer, a hand carefully going to his upper back, the other to the back of his head, fingers sifting through his hair. Gently, she guides his forehead down to his shoulder, pivoting so that it's his back to the throne and the events that are destined to occur.

From beyond the top of his head, the king now sits upon the throne, bidding his gratefulness and love to those who have helped him on his journey as an apparition of his father manifests beside him.

Pyra keeps her hand upon his head, her thumb drawing tender circles into his scalp. If she can, she'll guide him to the ground with her, kneeling, supporting. ] Remember, in this world, [ She speaks gently, her voice close to his ear as the phantom-monarchs are summoned by the king. ] you don't have to do anything you don't want to.

[ There is no Prophecy here, there is no Crystal, no Bahamut. One day he might be forced to walk those steps on his own, but today isn't that day. The future should stay where it is at; his mind doesn't need to be there, doesn't need to be reminded of it again, as if it's already in his past....

The kings ready their glaives. ]

Breathe with me.

[He should fight it, he thinks, but he does not. He should face his destiny, not run away from the terrible fate he's being forced to experience once again. This serves a purpose, surely. That's the lesson. He's here for a reason.

Or maybe the truth is simply that his destiny is to experience a series of endless trials before he dies.

Regardless, regardless of what the truth is, he'd rather believe her words: that he doesn't have to, that this world and his own are two different stories, and what he chooses here doesn't have to reflect badly on him in Eos. She'd told him once before that she didn't want to be the selfish choice, that choosing to be with someone wasn't meant to be selfish. Could that same logic not apply here? To be someone other than the king with his head in the guillotine, primed for sacrifice. To be just a man like any other, not avoiding death but indulging in life until it comes to whatever end is meant for him. Living to die isn't really living. This is why his father didn't share the truth with him, he strongly suspects- so he wouldn't have to struggle with this for his whole life. He wants to focus on life, not death.

So, as the kings of yore charge in for the kill one after another, he buries his face against her and he does not watch. As cries of pain and gasping breaths echo through the chamber, he clings tightly to her and tries to focus on her hand soothing his hair. As a dying king quietly pleads for his father to end it, he breathes with her, praying it will still his pounding heart. And when it's over, and the room falls into silence, he lets the tears fall but he does not sob, nor does he break. He doesn't look at the body on the throne, because he doesn't need to. And he doesn't want to, so... he doesn't have to.

It doesn't feel good. But it doesn't feel worse, either, and that's a victory flag he'll fly. His arms around her tighten, grateful, uncertain, relieved. It's over... they made it. He's so focused on that fact (or hope, or desperate belief) that he doesn't notice as brilliant light flares outward from the Crystal in all directions, the ground falls away from them, and they sink into an endless blue dreamscape.]

[ She holds him throughout the ordeal, each audible wince and gasp of pain his future self emits upon the throne causing her to cringe. Would that she could also hold him, too. It's enough to make her look away, embracing the younger Noctis in her arms and holding him close, running her hand through his hair in what she hopes to be soothing, whispering that he's here, reminding him to breathe. She inhales, she exhales with him.

The one she loves will die. The one she loves will save the world. She can neither grieve for him more than she has already done, nor feel such joy and relief for his world, knowing that it will be saved. However, the latter does not overturn the former feeling, and she only holds him all the more tightly for it.

But it's then that the realm is engulfed in light, causing her to squint then shut her eyes, and she feels the ground give way beneath them before the very next feeling is that of weightlessness. Opening her eyes, she lifts her chin off his shoulder, blinking as she takes in the surreal, nebulaeic surroundings. ] Where is...

[ Is this part of the vision, too?

She wants to continue to hold Noctis, so she does. But she also doesn't know where they are now, or if this is a different realm from the door she had entered. Whatever it is, it's beyond this vision and the one she had shown him a year prior.

Wherever it is, it's grand, beautiful, and infinite-- beautiful because of its infinity. ]

[Her question makes him lift his head tentatively and at last notice them drifting through the strange blue starscape. His eyes widen at once, turning slowly in the air as he holds her, getting a look at their surroundings.]

This is... the heart of the Crystal. This is where I went when it swallowed me... where I met Bahamut. Why here...?

[his words trail off as he notices they're not alone, and once more his breath catches as a figure floats up out of the darkness: Ardyn Izunia, distinct from his Havenwell self by the clothes he wears and the coldness in his smirk. Across from him, Noctis' older self drops into view, and a scene begins to unfold. The Usurper is faced briefly against the Chosen King and his comrades, and his true form is revealed, face daemonic and smeared with black ichor. He is wounded by the magic of Lunafreya's interference, just as he'd been in Altissia ten years prior, and then, calling upon the ring's power...

Noctis' eyes widen further, understanding dawning in them. The blades of the kings, emerging from his back, tearing forth like glowing silver wings, bringing with them the old kings once freed. That's what he died for: to carry them with the ring into this place. Killing Ardyn in the physical world meant nothing, as he only came back sooner or later, something he'd witnessed on the train in Ghorovas Rift when he broke the chancellor into pieces and he returned within minutes, revealing himself as a far greater threat than Noctis could ever have anticipated. This, though- this was a true death, the death of his soul. There'd be no coming back when the combined power of the ring and one hundred and fourteen kings decimate his soul in the beyond. This feels... finite. He can't imagine a way for him to threaten the world after watching his older self order his ancestors forward, eyes and flesh ablaze with fire, screaming out a desperate rage he must have been holding all those years. Izunia is utterly destroyed, leaving only crystalline ashes that scatter and vanish into nothing. His older self staggers, exhales, and falls into the same fate.

It's finally over...

...Oh.

Noctis stares, unable to breathe. Oh, that...

Finite. That was the right word for it. He's just- gone, utterly. The Lucis Caelums Ardyn and Noctis, first and last of their line, and the ring of the Lucii which carried the soul of every other... gone.

He doesn't... know how to feel, so all he can do is stare at the empty void where he fell.]

[ She can only watch in silence, just as he does, as his world's prophecy comes to and end by pain, magic, and light that shatters-- his soul that does the same, breaking apart into nothing, gone and indistinguishable from the matrix that surrounds them.

It's finally over.

A year ago she had noted how he looked... tired as his older self, and she hears both exhaustion and relief in the tone that she can't help but think how grossly she must have underestimated that tiredness. From this vision she sees that even in his final moments conscious, he's put on another trial, fighting against his pain, made to be in pain because that's how his world's magic works, no rest, not until the end. He gives so much, she's also said to him. Now she knows that he'll give everything, the entirety of his existence, his soul.

She's rendered silent afterward.

This world is beautiful because you're in it-- is something she's once told him, and now... The galactic realm in which they are in is beautiful, and she believes that the world of Eos must be reaching its dawn by now-- also beautiful. But both realms are now without him.

Something wet stains the side of her cheek.

Without another word, she turns and pulls him into a fierce, desperate embrace. ]

[His answer is a harsh exhale and an equally desperate hug, arms clutching around her and burrowing once again to her shoulder. She's crying too; he caught a glimpse of it before he was pulled in, and he can't blame her. This can't be any easier for her to watch, such a grim and unkind reminder of the price that saving the world asks from him- and her, too. The idea that he'll most likely be successful is no small consolation - the dying gasp of it's finally over speaks to the relief he'll feel in that moment - but the idea of being erased so utterly is ironic, considering that's part of what lost Ardyn to history and made him what he is now. At least there's no chance of either of them coming back, though, all things considered. Again, a consolation. This one... smaller.

His hand slides up her back to weave fingers through her hair, trying to offer her the same comfort she'd given him while he holds her. He doesn't want people to cry for him... he doesn't even want to cry for himself. He can't ignore it when it's happening, though, and that it probably will happen in reality. Right now all he can do is offer whatever soothing he can in the aftermath.]

I'm here... I'm still here. It's- it's good, right? By then we both want peace... it... it makes sense. [The words feel weaky and pithy somehow, so he adds again, more quietly,] ...I'm here.

[ Someone stronger than her might have been able to hold back their tears, and while she isn't a sobbing mess, his shoulder will be damp. Feeling him trying to comfort her makes her feel guilty. What is she doing, him comforting her, when it had been his-- she doesn't know what to call it-- absolute end?

An apology almost escapes her lips, but instead, she hugs him tighter. ]

I... I'm glad... You, the both of you should have that peace.

[ But to have it brought about in such a way...

He won't be here forever. Neither will Ardyn. The time they have here is for them, what they won't have in their world. Until then, this fate doesn't have to be their present. ]

You're here. I love that you're here.

[ He can have that peace here, too. ]

[He can feel those tears, and while there is some guilt to be had from that, there's also... relief, to an extent. That he isn't alone in his grief, she can share that she isn't infallible when he's in pain so she remains the strong one. They can share this, together, like so many other things.

He doesn't speak again at first, just silently holds her, clinging to her body as tightly as her words, shoulders shuddering, and he cries with her. It feels wretched, but it feels good to get it out. Like the vision he'd received before from her crystal, there is some value to be taken from knowing. It cements even further the belief that every moment in this world needs to count, because it's all he has. In that world and in the next, he has no time.

Here, he has time. And he has his family, his friends. He has her. That... can be enough.]

I'm tired... I'm so tired of grieving when I'm still alive...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject