hugtopia_logs | those crystal blues

[Once he's sitting up, he almost regrets it, but he stays in position for a handful of moments, quiet and silent, getting used to being vertical. This isn't his real body, so the vertigo and exhaustion aren't real; he reminds himself of that, trying to focus on his intention, instead. He doesn't want to lie around. He wants to sit next to her, look at her properly, while he can. God knows he'll likely be flat on his back plenty on the other side, especially since he promised to take it easy.

Okay... so. Here goes.]

I can't promise you that I won't blame myself a bit for this. If I'm not wrong, then I won't learn. You said you were proud of me for asking for help... but would you have felt the need to say it, if it wasn't so rare?

[He makes a lot of mistakes, but he believes wholeheartedly that he's right on this one. There's a lesson to be learned from this, and if he remembers nothing else, he ought to remember at least this.]

I'll... promise to try not to dwell on it, though. Whose fault it is doesn't matter that much- or it shouldn't, at least. I thought I was doing what was best for me, but it wasn't. The Astrals must've thought they were doing what's best for the world.

[Whether it is, or it isn't... well, that isn't really up to him. Maybe there could've been a point before his death where he faltered. Maybe one moment of hesitation could cost someone's life, someone important in another grand scheme of the gods. The future is unknown to him. The past is bound to be important. He doesn't have the energy to be angry right now.

(Maybe later. Maybe there'll come a time when he rages at his fate, where he wants to shout at Bahamut for dropping this unwanted burden on him, one more in an endless, heavy pile. Not now, though. He's tired.)]

...Then we share it, [ She's not going to let him put all the blame on himself for not considering the option of a secondary crystal sooner. ] whatever fault there is in not bringing up the option of sharing this crystal sooner.

[ There could be excuses, such as her not wanting to impose more, to give him time to think, to not try to push him in any direction. But at least speaking of the option a few times wouldn't have seemed too imposing, and what good does inaction to help do, when it results in him being harmed?

Since they both at fault, maybe he's right. Maybe they can both learn from this: to talk about things, to not let things fester until it's too late. (Or almost too late, in this case.) ]

Ugh... you're too stubborn, sometimes.

[He doesn't want her to take the blame any more than she wants him to. He'd asked her if he could think about it, and she respected that. It shouldn't be on her shoulders that he failed to follow through. And yeah, maybe she could have brought it up, but what if it'd felt too much like pressuring him into it? That didn't seem like her, either. The ball was in his court, but she threw it there.

He mulls over it a bit, finally exhaling and resting his head against hers, shaking it slightly.]

I don't wanna play this game. Can we just... say we learned our lesson and leave it at that? I don't blame you, you don't blame me... it's such a waste.

[ She sounds so defeated, and she can't bring herself to press the matter when he's still so tired. Pyra nods. They can learn from this, if nothing else. With matters like this, a little more communication may have helped. Or, it may not have. They'll never truly know, but going forward, it couldn't hurt to talk on life-or-death matters.

Her hand slips from his shoulder, and she takes his hands in hers. ]

I love you, you know. And-- [ She leans forward, tilting her head up to look at him meet his gaze. She squeezes his fingers. ] I like how you always do what you think is best.... Not what others think, but what is true in your heart.

[ Some of his choices she can worry over, but she'd rather worry than him have no autonomy. ]

[His eyes lift to meet hers, listening quietly as those words sink in. He smiles after a moment, small, but a more proper one compared to before.]

I love you, too. I'm... really glad I remember you.

[Her words wouldn't mean as much to him if he didn't recognize her for who she is, he wouldn't take them to heart and put his faith in them the same way. He wouldn't have even remotely close to this level of calm, if she wasn't here and he didn't know her face or what her crystal represented. This could have been truly horrible, and it still is, but... with her, he's able to bear it somehow.

It hits him then, sudden and frightful, and his expression shifts, shaken and grateful. His hand tightens around hers, dragging it up to his lips.]

I... if I'd forgotten you, forgotten us... I don't know what I'd do. I never want that, I...

Noct...

[ If he had forgotten her-- she doesn't want to think about it. It didn't happen, but that it didn't happen isn't assuaging the grief he's showing from just the possibility of it.

Terrifyingly, at this point she doesn't know who or what he's forgotten. There's so many he's touched in his lives, friends, family, citizens of Lucis, and she hopes all of their faces and names are with him, all those lights. She's just one person, the one who happens to be in front of him right now. But when he wakes, he doesn't know if he'll even recognize one of those to whom he's sent a message of help. That is terrifying. ]

Come here. [ She brings him close, and like so many ties before, she tips her head towards his, allowing their foreheads to touch. Her hand remains in his. The other lifts to his cheek, keeping his head still, and she closes her eyes, and she inhales. ] Breathe...

[ It's a cycle of breaths, one, two. In, out, in a way that can be felt between them. One, two, a count, because sometimes turmoil can only be taken a day at a time, an hour at a time, a minute at a time, one breath at a time. He's taken one breath. He's taken another. He's getting through, one breath at a time.

She speaks softly. ] We're both here. I love you. You remember me. I love you. And any lapses for me or others... they'll come back. [ Her next words are even softer, for they are words meant for only him, not the field around him, not the tree above him, not the bell tolling in the distance; words he has heard before, filled with hope and the promise that this distress he feels won't be forever. ] I love you.

[He leans in with her, eyes closing, and quietly follows her lead through the breathing exercise. This isn't the first time they've done this, nor will it be the last, he fully believes. It comes easier to him now than it used to, though. Just breathe, just breathe, don't panic. Whatever comes, they'll deal with. Whatever memories are gone, they'll work around. He hopes - no, he's confident - she'll still love him when he's awake and they're able to determine how much of him is truly left. He... feels like himself. He's weak and slow, but still there somehow. And she's here, too.]

I love you, [he echoes, faint, but gradually growing less shaken.] I love you.

[He's not alone, and he's loved. That's the most important thing to remember, right now. The rest can wait.]

[ She's patient with him, quiet, allowing their I love you's to be interspaced by inhales and exhales and the tolls of the bell. When she opens her eyes, her eyes are shining with a fine mist, but she's smiling at him.

A small exercise like this isn't going to rid him of all of his worries in the coming days or weeks, but she hopes that, in this moment, it will make his pain more manageable. so long as he can remember he has a home here, so long as he can take every step towards recovery a breath at a time... She's certain he'll manage, that it will become easier to breathe, to remember, and to smile again. Her hope is more powerful than any guilt she feels. ]

Hey... You. [ She says, affectionate. ] One breath at a time. One job to rest.

If you feel you can't remember something, just tell me, okay? [ Her thumb brushes beneath his cheek. ] I'll help you. [ In case that hadn't been clear, her hand lowers from his cheek to his hand again, giving his knuckles a squeeze. ] It's absolutely no problem at all.

[He musters another smile at that, and this time it doesn't falter, despite his sheepish response.]

Wonder how I'll even know. Should I remember that I can't remember something? It sounds messy as hell.

[He's grateful, though, truly, and it shows in his expression and the softness of his smile. That fear won't go away with only this, and they both know it, but the fact that he can lean on her support is an immeasurable comfort. He wouldn't be able to even half-joke about this if she wasn't reassuring him. He suspects there will be problems if and when he happens to forget things, but he also doubts those problems will come from her. He just... has to do his best not to blame himself for it, or her by proxy. His frustrations or grief doesn't mean it's anyone's fault.

Something to work on. Nobody's perfect, that's for sure.]

It's likely that it'll be instinctual. [ Like a vague sense, a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, or déjà vu. If she has to guess, anyway. Worst case scenario, he'll be looking at something, some sort of picture or location or even a single word, and he'll feel emptiness, as if something is supposed to be there but isn't.

It's a similar feeling, sometimes, to when she thinks of what her true name is: something that should be, something that's important to the very core of her, something she knows is wonderful to her, but she can't reach it.

Pyra looses her grip on his hands. Now the he's smiling, she doesn't have to hold him so intensely. There's affection in her voice, similarly responding to his half-joking tone. ] I'll allow you "forgetting how to do the dishes" excuse for at least two weeks, though.

[His lips curve at that, allowing himself a broader smile. Slowly, it's getting easier. Even just temporarily, he wants this.]

A whole two weeks... even Iggy's never been that generous. I'll have to really think about what to do with my newfound freedom.

[Besides... rest. Because that'll definitely happen. He's starting to feel it again, leaning against her, but he wants to stay upright for as long as he's able, without his real body to slow him down.]

Pyra, um... you make it seem like it's no big deal, sharing like this, that you're glad to do it and all. It is, though. A... a big deal. I want you to know that. [He raises his hand, brushing it gently over her crystal this time, lingering over the missing fragment.] You're amazing... you're really, really amazing.

[ Saving him, helping him, and caring for him aren’t acts for which she seeks thanks, for they are something she gives freely, effortlessly. It costs her nothing to love him. This is just as love should be.

He says she’s amazing, and she’s both moved and conflicted by it. Is saving a loved one’s life truly amazing? Shouldn’t it simply be the standard? She had only done what she could, and only after they had spoken together about it. She’s relieved and optimistic that he is alive; simultaneously, it feels like a near-miss that feeds into the teeth of guilt.

His fingers brushing upon her crystal make her think further:

What about all of those who she didn’t save as a crystal, watching as time passed, as people lived and died? Of all of those who had prayed for comfort, salvation, help, and life to a power greater than them, that could save them, but only remained aloof, untouchable, merely observing, never answering? The Trinity had remained distant, allowing humanity to navigate its own course, allowing them freedom. Was it, in fact, cruel of them to not intervene, to not take action to help that which they created?

…Perhaps she’s thinking too much into this. The facts are these: she loves him, and so she had chosen to intervene. To help, to not merely be an observer but instead someone that answers a call for help. She gives that help freely. She would not choose otherwise. ]

Amazing? [ At long last, the complex expression she wears softens as she answers him, pensive. A quiet, shy smile tugs at the corner of her lips. ]

Funny, I think that about you every day.

[He watches her shifting expression, brows scrunching together as he tries to decipher it. It goes on long enough that he can't help feeling concerned, like he'd said something wrong. Does she not know she's amazing? It's true that he's not as verbal with compliments as she is, a flaw of his personality more than how he thinks of her (because he truly does think the world of her), but he can't recall her rejecting one before. And while she doesn't directly disagree, the uncertainty of her expression lingers in his mind.

He shrugs off her comment - a misdirect, he thinks - and holds on to that concern. If she's upset, it'd be easy for her to distract him with his own condition, but he's noticed, now.]

What's wrong?

[ ...Too obvious, is she? Or maybe he knows her tells. She smiles fondly at him, either way. Really, she knows he means well. ]

I was thinking of all the times I could have helped you or others, if only I-- [ Hadn't feared in harming others by using her abilities, for one. But long before that, as only a crystal, could have done something more for the world, if only she had some semblance of humanity within her.

Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head. ] ...If only I did.

I don't know if it's right to call me 'amazing' like that, for all the times I haven't helped. Helping a loved one should be the standard.

[How many times has he said something disparaging about himself, or criticized himself for not doing enough, not protecting or saving people when he should, and in return she'd quietly and kindly guided him back on the path of self care? More times than he can remember, he's certain. His mind may be muddled all to hell, but he knows she wouldn't stand for this if their roles were reversed. That's... too much responsibility. Too many lights for one person to carry. They'd talked about this before- about her reasons for not fighting, for not using her power. Not just because she didn't want to alter him this way without permission first, but because it was a danger to other people if she risked unsealing a part of herself that was buried for good reason. He didn't have to fully agree with it; the point was, he believed her. She'd done it thinking it was for the greater good, that more people would suffer than she could protect, if that power was misused. He had no right to judge or criticize her for doing what she felt was right. Back then, and... now, once she's changed her mind.

He lowers his hand from her crystal, winding it around her hand instead, and gives it a squeeze.]

Pyra... my memory's foggy, so help me out. I said something like that when I woke up from my long sleep in the temple. About... failing, not protecting people. You said some really encouraging stuff to me back then. Do you remember?

[ It's been over a year since then, but she does remember it. ]

I do. [ She nods, but her brow is lifted, as if she doesn't quite follow him. That is, until she thinks a bit harder on the memory, of what she said to him that day.

She had found him weary and mentally exhausted within her garden that day. He had thought he failed with protecting others. She had done her utmost to encourage him: that what he did was good, that he did what he could with the information and abilities and freedom (or lack thereof) at the time. That he was everything good within his heart.

What she said to him that day, that forgiveness for the self, that self-compassion-- he wants her to practice that for herself, too.

Pyra lowers her head, bringing his hand up from her crystal to press a kiss to his knuckles. His memory is fuzzy, but at least he remembers what she said that day, too. That means he still carries those words with him. Not all is lost. ] Noct...

You shouldn't have to hear only your own words for this sort of thing. Just... you say it so much better than me.

[His hand shifts, touching her cheek while she's bent close to it, then lightly tugging her chin up.]

I'll try, anyway. [She deserves it. She deserves so much more.] I didn't say you're amazing just because you saved me. You've always been amazing, but this sort of thing reminds me that it's true. You... you saved me before, without any powers. You saved me that day, and way too many days after, just by being with me. You're saving me now, with or without the crystal.

[He leans in, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. He's no good at big, sweeping gestures or heavy proclamations, but he can do little things. He can put the effort in. It's not difficult to think of ways in which she's wonderful... he just has to say them out loud.]

You know me. I get depressed easy. Shitty things are always happening... at home or here, doesn't matter, the world's got it in for me. But every time, you're right here to pick me up and remind me that everything doesn't suck, that I deserve better, that I'm still... good. And you do that not because you're trying to save me or win glory or whatever. You did this on day one, before you knew anything about me, my power, my destiny... that's who you are. You saved me from me. And I know I'm not the only one. That's why... you're amazing. For all the times you have helped people, and all the times I know you will, going forward.

[ Her own words repeated back to herself wouldn't have the same effect, and he starts calling her amazing all over again, he's already doing better than how she could have reassured herself. Those words alone with a kiss upon her forehead would have been enough, too, but no, he continues.

By the time he's done speaking, she's smiling at him, comforted, but also tearfully-- for two reasons. The first is that of course she's emotional, he knows this by now. The second is that this? This is how she knows that for all the memories have caused him pain and pushed some of his own away, he's still him. He's able to be kind when it counts most, when others need it most. ]

N-noct....

[ Architect, she wouldn't know what she would do, if those memories had left him so hollow that his compassion, that his goodness were crushed beneath the weight of the world. She's grateful for that, just as much as she's grateful for his words.

The world could have lost someone beautiful today, truly in heart and soul, and it would have been less beautiful itself because of it. ]

Thank you, Noct. [ She whispers, leaning into his touch, unable to help a small, breathless laugh. ] ...You know I'm supposed to be comforting you, don't you?

[ There's so much more she wants to say to him, to comfort him, to ask him, to go over with him. She doesn't know where to start, what she should leave for another day. But at least she can show how grateful she is to him. Pyra closes her eyes, moving to embrace him. ] I'm so thankful that you're here. I'm so thankful that you're alive.

[He melts into the embrace, grateful for it and plenty of other things, besides. He's glad that his efforts weren't a total flop. Giving big speeches doesn't come anywhere near as naturally to him, and it's honestly kind of exhausting to do it, though he wouldn't say as much- that's on him, not her. (Seriously, how did his dad do public speaking for as long as he did? How does anyone have the energy for it?) He's happy she found comfort in his words, though; he meant all of them.]

I like being here. [In Elysium, in Havenwell. Alive.] I wish you'd stop saying that, though. All that... who's supposed to be comforting who. It's not your job, and I don't wanna ignore when you're upset just because I am. [He huffs a quiet laugh to her shoulder.] If that was the rule you'd never get to speak up.

[Mr. Always Depressed over here busy hogging the comfort spotlight... and he can't recall a specific instance of her saying that, but it's a gut feeling he can't shake. Maybe that will be how his memory goes sometimes, because of all this, or maybe he's only struggling in the moment. Difficult to tell for sure yet. Regardless, he won't ignore that feeling here and now.]

I--...I know, I know. [ She takes a tremulous breath, still holding him. Pyra turns her head so that she kiss the shell of his ear, and then she tucks her chin over his shoulder, sighing.

Whatever comes next, she knows this: there are now more important values to her than remaining secretive and hiding in fear. In dire circumstances like this, there are times where her abilities can help others, can save lives-- especially of those she loves. That's a big change already.

But. Even though she knows he'll make time for her, comparing her uncertainty with this to the trauma he just went though seems... unbalanced at best and frivolous at worst (although she knows he'd never think it). So, regaining some of her composure, she pulls back from the embrace to look at him once more, searching his face, then allowing her gaze to drop to the crystal upon his chest.

From here on, every reflection he'll see will be with this crystal upon his chest. He's always had magic within him, always had a unique glow within his eyes, but the gem there is far more overt. No doubt, that will take some getting used to. She hopes that he won't think of himself as any less than he was, just because he has a part of her with him. She hopes that seeing it won't bring more harm to him...

Ah. That's another worry, then. After a moment, she speaks it aloud: ]

You know... this doesn't mean your my chosen, okay? You're not mine in that way. [ In a possessive way, in a way a god might use a mortal to further their plans, whether that's by being their champions or being their weapons, their pawns. She knows he's expressed trouble with this before, so she adds: ] You're not a tool.

[He sets free a quiet, surprised noise at that, brows furrowing as he looks back at her.]

I've... never once thought that about you. Not now, not ever. [His lips quirk into a fresh smile.] Any of the others could tell you I'm a lot of work when it comes to that sort of thing.

[He has no intention of becoming a tool, even if... his destiny is essentially to just be a means to an end. A conduit, he'd said in the past, which in retrospect is just a fancier way of calling himself a tool for the gods to use. Still, he's sentient. He has a will of his own, and thanks to her, his mind belongs to him, too. As far as he can tell her crystal isn't meddling with his head or changing how he feels, and he trusts her too much to suspect that might change. The only risk of that is if something weird happens in this world to make her behave differently, and they've all been guilty of that by now.]

[ In the future, she'll give a part of her crystal to another... to essentially use them, without telling them the true reason for it, even if she will be saving their life. In this present, she's doing the opposite. She's giving her crystal freely to him to save him, to protect him; not for some grander plan, but solely because she wants to, because she cares about him.

She won't know the significance of this change until she returns to her world, but for now? She's relieved that he hadn't even thought this exchange would be making a tool out of him. So careful she is to reveal what she is, for all of how deities and powers-that-be are thought of, whether good or bad, that she doesn't want to be perceived as just another one who uses someone.

And she's afraid of this because... she still doesn't understand the point of his gods bestowing all of these memories to him, making him suffer like so, and it pains her that this-- another crystal, one from an entirely different world-- must step in to correct the lack of a failsafe. It shouldn't have come to this, he shouldn't have to question his own memories or who he is or how he'll be in the future. ]

Okay.... Okay. I had been worried that you'd be worried, and-- [ She shakes her head and brings her hand to his chest, her palm over his heart rather than over the crystal. Clearly, her worry on that isn't necessary, and she responds with a smile. Sometimes she worries too much. ] I just want you to know that you're still you.

Still me...

[He glances down at her hand, noting its position as he considers those words more carefully. He hadn't only been worried about losing himself- he'd worried about forgetting what made him into himself. By forgetting something like that, he'd lose all sense of what's normal in his behaviour, his personality, how he speaks and what he says. It would be like becoming a different person, a mishmash of the world's history compressed into a single new personality, or maybe even multiple if he couldn't keep himself consistent. It's terrifying. He'd been terrified.

To hear her say that... it means a great deal. When he speaks with others - his family, his friends - he'll be able to gauge (hopefully) what sort of changes might exist, if anything is noticeably different. Right now she's able to reassure him, because she's come to know him so well. It's another gift from her that he'll accept gladly. He hadn't known he was so keen for that reassurance until he heard it out loud.

With a heavy exhale he leans in, half-slumping against her, his hand clutching hers against his heart. Still him, still him. They didn't change him. Again, that fear can be put to rest for a while.]

Promise... you'll tell me, if I'm ever not?

I promise.

[ Promises to him are far too easy to make. When she first arrived in this world, she probably would have thought that dangerous.

She's glad that mentality has since changed.

Her fingers tap against his chest. ] Still you, and... [ Affectionately, with a breath, ] You know, this whole conversation, I've been thinking that you are definitely still you, if it helps at all.

[ She opens her eyes. ] I think that's a good start.

[He huffs a quiet laugh, finally relenting to his tired urge and shifts back down again, resting with his head in her lap so he can look up at her without expending so much energy. She didn't seem to mind indulging him before, so he'll stay this way for a while.]

Hmm... what gave me away? My princely charm is that unmistakable?

[It does help, actually. And if she's keeping watch for it, he'll try not to worry as much about it.]

those crystal blues

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