♥ April (Lasai) Event Log

[hugtopiamods]

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...

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❥ PROMPT I: Life Has Many Doors

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

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.

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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!

Comments

[iustaegis]

[ 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. ]

[carbungle]

[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...

[iustaegis]

[ 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.

[carbungle]

[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.]

[iustaegis]

[ 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. ]

[carbungle]

[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.]

[iustaegis]

[ 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. ]

[carbungle]

[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.

[iustaegis]

[ 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. ]

[carbungle]

[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...

[iustaegis]

[ He's tired of grieving, although it's not as if either of them can simply stop feeling sad for his fate after they've both witnessed it. She likes to believe that a little mourning is good, healthy. He spares so little time for himself to mourn, in the first place. But if she help him live what borrowed time he does have as fulfilling as possible, she'll do it. Not every waking moment has to be overshadowed by the thought that one day he will be gone-- and she's certain of it, for all of their joyful moments together (scarce as they have been lately), it's gotten easier to for the future to not overshadow it, if not overpower how it looms entirely.

Joy and love is so much more powerful than that. ]

Then we don't have to. We live-- here. You can live your life here to the fullest it can be. Each moment counts.

[ She pulls back to look at him, eyes glistening with her tears, without judgement for his own, her hand raising to his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. She has no more words at the moment, so instead she brings him back into a hug.

Each moment counts, she had said, but isn't that what he's been doing anyway? Living his life as he chooses, working on the projects that he chooses, being himself, a friend, a son, someone loved by so many.

Celebrating his life... is something they can do instead. ]

[carbungle]

[He meets her gaze as long as it lasts, weary and sad, but acknowledging her words and grateful for them. When she pulls him back in he nods against her shoulder, arms dropping to hold her about the waist and just relishing in her presence and the comfort it always brings him. His life is worth enjoying, while he has it. Worth celebrating. And the company of his loved ones is worth celebrating too, in this borrowed time.

He feels more than sees the shift in space around them, gravity beginning to return, the starscape of his crystal beginning to fade to darkness. Whatever requirement to let them leave this place has been met, he's assuming, and they can go back now. It's enough to make him pull back again, bending to softly kiss her forehead, taking a deep breath through his nose. He can smell her hair, the empty air in this space, but... distantly, a mixed scent of old paint, his hair products, hints of the smells of their home. He doesn't know if they'll be separated, so before they go-]

You're always here for me... thank you. [His smile is tentative, but it's there.] I couldn't have done this without you.

[This could mean a lot of things; the vision, enduring countless struggles, finding a positive attitude in the midst of all the dark. In all cases she's a constant reminder that he isn't alone, and that carries such worth that it can't be measured, and all the thank-yous in the world will never be enough to cover.]

[iustaegis]

[ Still teary-eyed, but still smiling, she dips her head when he kisses her upon her forehead, raising her gaze afterwards and pulling him close to return one upon his cheek. ] I promise, Noct-- to be here for you, as long as I can.

[ The vision-realm around them is fading-- whether that's because of how much time they've spent within it, the touch they've shared, or that it's simply played out until the end, she still cannot say. She feels herself being pulled from him, his voice sounds more distant even though they remain holding each other.

She smells the scent of juniberries and sylleblossoms. ]

I'll come find you, okay?

[ Wherever he is in this city, she wants to see him, the sooner the better, she wants to see him and hold him in reality, and kiss him and hug him and run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything she's already said to him before. That he's wonderful and beautiful and kind and brave. She almost wishes this vision would end sooner, so that she could do just that. ]

[carbungle]

Yeah... okay.

[One more- just one more. He can feel them separating, so he fights against it and pulls her in one last time to kiss her lips, teary-eyed but glad to have her with him, and one is starting to at last overshadow the other. As he pulls back again, he murmurs while they're still close,]

See you at home.

[And then lets go, allowing the shadows of this place to split them apart and swallow them up to return each to wherever they'd began. It'll be alright, he thinks, eventually. Like before, when the vision had haunted them both, it had hurt for a while but those memories faded over time to become far less unbearable than that first day. The comfort they'd found in one another made everything so much better. Today was worse, but at least it had closure, and he wasn't alone when it happened. This, too, shall pass.]

[iustaegis]

[ She awakens in the greenhouse of her old house, dazed for all of a few seconds as she blinks and adjusts to the lights strung above. Sitting up, a hand goes to her cheek, feeling wetness upon her skin and recalling exactly why it’s there. Quickly she stands, and quickly she moves out of the greenhouse, to the streets, to her home, and to him, feeling nothing but the desire to go to him and hold him, to be with him for however much longer either of them have. ]

Noct—

[ As soon as she’s through the door and spots him, she’ll be pulling him into an embrace as warm as the summer sun. She doesn’t want to think about his death, about his execution on a throne or of the gasps of pain she heard through shut eyes, the shattering of his soul, the end of his fate... She only wants to think about him, here and now in her arms, the scent of his skin and hair, his presence pressed to her own.

And she couldn’t be more grateful. The vision had been horrible, a reminder of how finite his life is, but if nothing else it’s only reinforced how much she needs to appreciate him in the moment. She won’t waste more time, she tells herself. She shouldn’t waste more time.

Against the crook of his neck, she smiles, speaking tenderly. ]

I love you.

[carbungle]

[His doorway had been their room, so when she finds him he's sitting on the edge of the bed, head ducked and hands clasped together in his lap, quiet and reflective. When she enters he looks up, at first defensive until he recognizes it's her and doesn't have a reason to conceal anything. When she hugs him he practically melts into it, arms lifting to hold her back. He hadn't really been focusing on how long he'd been there, only that he didn't want to move, or speak, or see anyone else. He'd wanted her to find him first, and he hadn't felt the urge to move from where she might reach him. That had been his only thought; the rest, he'd... simply tried to clear his head. As close as he could get to meditating without actually meditating, because his mind's too much of a messy jumble to find any kind of inner peace right now.

Pyra's presence, though... he does relax a little in her arms.]

I love you... are you okay?

[iustaegis]

[ She pulls away only enough so that she might look at him in disbelief. Is she okay— is he okay! He always has to ask first! ] Always so quick to ask that of others first... I’m well.

[ While she cannot lie and say she enjoyed seeing the one she loves being stabbed repeatedly upon his throne over and over, she can’t imagine that he’s not without his own struggles. He is the one that’s being reminded that that will be him in the future, he had to listen to himself dying all over again, and then he had to watch as his soul was used as a tool in of itself, a vessel to transport the the other kings into whatever that realm had been. Finally, he had to watch his soul shatter into nothing.

...

Pyra searches his face for any signs of distress or the strain of suppressing it, her hand moving to lightly caress his cheek. All she wishes to do is hold him while she still can. ]

And you... ? I’m here for you.

[ Space, distraction, food, cuddling... She wants to provide. ]

[carbungle]

I know.

[He closes his eyes, leaning in to bump his head against hers, going quiet for a long moment. The stress she finds in his expression is understandable, but not in excess; being outside of the throne room has done wonders, and a little time to sit and not focus on it has helped some of the tension bleed out of him. He's not back to what one might consider normal, but he's getting there.]

I'm fine. [A beat as he reconsiders, because he is not fine, and that's an impulse he's trying to catch.] I'll... be okay. It's just a lot to take in, I guess.

[Seeing himself die - or hearing it, at least - is naturally going to be stressful. And the idea of his soul getting... what, erased? Destroyed? Brings a whole extra level of fear to the unknown of death and whatever comes after. He doesn't know much about what happens after death outside of the Lucii (he'd never paid attention, since normal rules didn't apply to him). Now, though... seems as if this life really is all he gets.

It's going to take some time for him to learn how to be okay with that on top of everything else.]

[iustaegis]

[ “A lot” is putting it mildly, and she can only imagine what he’s feeling.

Sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, her hand finds his, squeezing it reassuringly. ]

...You can take your time.

[ She won’t expect him to cope so effortlessly with the vision so soon, and she wants him to know that he doesn’t need to rush himself, or feel inadequate if he doesn’t. This world might tear them apart at a moment’s notice, but she’d still emphasize patience in the same way. She hopes she can support him, anyway. She hopes for the best: let him not have nightmares of this, let there be no more surprise visions or doors from the local gods.... anything. She’ll take the chocolate rain again, thanks. ]

What matters is what’s going on in here— [ Her hand upon his cheek lifts, and she presses a finger to the center of his forehead. ] —and here. [ The same hand drops to press to his chest. She offers a small smile. ]

[carbungle]

Would the answer "it's a mess and I don't know" be acceptable?

[He halfway musters a smile and shakes his head. It's such a bizarre and uncomfortable mix of worry and hope, and he doesn't know how to describe how either of them feel, apart or together. He's also fairly confident that she'd accept any answer he's comfortable with sharing, which might be fine in normal circumstances, but... he wants to be comfortable sharing his truth with her. She's one of the few he can trust with that.

He moves his hand to curl his fingers around hers, at his chest, and holds them there.]

They... hurt, is the short version. Knowing and seeing are two different things. What was the purpose of seeing all that? Am I supposed to feel better?

[iustaegis]

[ Trying to deign the purpose of pain and cruelty isn’t something she’ll even attempt. There’s no real answer she can give with a hope of being accurate. Some things are simply beyond their control— as strange as it is to admit it. What matters is how they respond to it, to pick up the pieces of themselves and support each other. ]

If you said you weren’t hurting.... I’d think something was wrong. [ She offers gently, beginning with a soft tone and her fingers interlacing with his. ]

But if you said you were in pain, if you said you were angry, if you said you were sad, if you said you don’t believe it— that’s something you have a right to feel, and...

I’d want to hold you through it all. [ Like she is doing now. ]

[carbungle]

[It's more a rhetorical question than anything; no answer she could give him would satisfy even if she had one. Instead of pushing it further he only holds her a little closer, his cheek against her hair.]

I'm kind of all of those things, I think. Besides the- not believing part. I definitely believe it.

[If he'd been given a kinder vision he'd be more skeptical about it, and isn't that just the most pitiful self-awareness he'd ever had?]

...I'm not... as sad as I could be, which by itself is probably strange. I just... kinda get it, now. I know what I have to do, and I know how it's gonna happen. I know the end to the story, but I'm still living it. That's... weird. I feel weird.

[There is peace to be found in understanding where his path has been leading all this time. That's easier to parse. With it leaves a very big and uncomfortable question, though: now what? He just lives his life freely, does whatever? That's not something he's used to, even after all this time, and each reminder of his fate brings the question back to the forefront of his mind. Is this really okay?]

[iustaegis]

[ She falls quiet after he's done speaking, considering his words and glancing away. When it seems she's gathered her thoughts, she begins again. ]

In the throne room... I had wondered if-- [ She look at him. ] you never truly felt or thought of yourself as king. [ That's that, but that's not what she wants to discuss. What she wishes to do is to compare this to another thought, a far deeper matter. ] Now, I wonder if you've ever had a chance to live your life as you want. If you've ever felt free.

[ Even when he had technically been king upon the death of his father, he had still be set on a path. That changes in this world.

Surely, living his life, free to make his own choices, isn't as daunting as facing is death--- is a thought that she pauses quickly, recalling how solemnly, strictly, and set he had walked up the stairs to the throne. Perhaps daunting isn't the right word. Perhaps, to someone who has been more-or-less trapped their entire lives, such freedom does make him reel. Ultimately, she cannot be sure, and so she looks at him with more questions in her gaze.

"Weird."

If this is something that he's going to have to get used to... she'd rather it be this, than the idea of him dying. ]

Knowing... Will that make it harder for you to feel free? [ If he even does. ]

[carbungle]

[He mulls it over for a long moment in return. She's right on the mark with most of that. He'd never felt like a king because he really wasn't one. "King of what," he'd asked Cor the first time anyone called him Majesty, and after that it barely happened- none of his own people used the title, there'd been no coronation. He didn't command like a king, he took orders from the marshal or from the word of the gods. The Nifs showed him more deference, even if it was with a side helping of mockery. For the most part he was fine with it, even preferred it. But on the other hand everyone expected him to behave like a king without ever bothering to treat him like one. How could he lead by example when he'd never truly been taught how to do it?

As for feeling free... again, it was a complex situation. Freedom came with terms, limitations. There were always rules- he could go out in public but had to watch how he behaved, he could wander as he pleased but there were eyes on him wherever he went, through a network of guards and Crown informants, or journalists and paparazzi if he was open about his identity. The rules are different here, but they still exist: they're stuck in the city, they have to live here and not home, any of them could vanish on the fly, they're subject to strange (or in this case, upsetting) random circumstances every month. A limited and conditional freedom is in itself familiar, and familiar can be reassuring. That makes it less... scary. He can take comfort in that and just roll with it like always, right...?

He inhales, exhales, quietly rolls the words around in his head a few more times, then mumbles,]

I don't know. I hope not. Knowing just means I shouldn't stress about it, that I don't have to come up with any kind of plan or tactic or whatever to win. I just have to fight, and... die. That's easy. [He blinks rapidly, then clenches his eyes shut.] Anyone can die.

[Enough, he's done. He's done crying about it, he doesn't want to anymore.]

What does freedom mean to you?

[iustaegis]

[ Anyone can die, he says, as if it doesn't take so much strength to walk up those steps and sit on his throne, awaiting an execution. Others might have chosen themselves over the world; and it's not easy, it'd never be easy-- she can see how he struggles, how he dismisses his hardship. Add that to one more way in which he diminishes himself.

Noticing the way he momentarily strains to stop anymore tears, she wants to point that out, if only to try to have him be kinder to himself. It breaks her (metaphorical) heart how much he sees him as less. But then he asks a question to her in return. Pyra stalls, wondering if she should circle back immediately on his previous words or answer, of if he has something else to say in regards to freedom itself first. ]

The ability to feel what one feels... and to choose what one wishes to do or become.

[ ... ]