![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
02: insert creative title here
[ There is no longer the warmth of someone beside her when she rises, no arm around her, no shoulder for her head to be tucked into, no quiet breath she can hear, no soft rhythm of a heartbeat she can feel beneath her palm, no trace of a magic and light that feels as if she's bathed in the stars. There is no greeting with soft, quiet eyes and and an even softer touch, careful, caring, no murmur of her name. No feeling of acceptance, no slow rise thereafter, no touch in return to correct a strand of her hair with warm fingers lingering upon her cheek.
Instead there is emptiness as deep and overwhelming as the sea, perplexing, disorienting, storming, and cold. She peers into its maelstrom and knows that she ought to be there beneath it all, surrounding her, sealing her. That is the tomb she had chosen for herself for centuries, after all, basking in the safety of emptiness thus keeping the world safe in turn. How can emptiness feel so heavy and crippling, as if she's never experienced it before? Has she learned nothing?
No, she has learned something. It is the same lesson she has learned before-- ]
For those of his family and Eos, and for those of you who knew him, Somnus is no longer in Havenwell. I may only hope that he has returned to his homeworld in peace.
Please, let's all work together more to restore this world, so that perhaps those of us who wish to return to our worlds may also have the opportunity to return.
[ --that she must do what is necessary to secure the future of her world. She must return to her world. To return where she must be, to return to the state she had originally been in, to return to her Father and beg him for peace at last. Somnus has returned to his world, thereby ensuring its future. She has not forgotten that she, too, has the very same duty. Her love and her loss, this hollowness, this numbness-- she knows, she knows, it is painful, guilty; she ought not harbor any of these feelings. Yet terribly against her nature as it may be to experience emotions at all, they have one use in their turmoil and admiration for the world and all those in it: that they are reminding her, inspiring her to do what must be done to ensure that the future of her world remains. ]
A: Falconing. Morning.
He's gone, little partner. We are sorry. [ It's only Horus to whom she murmurs, the falcon unwittingly left behind by man who owned it. Presently the raptor is perched upon her arm, and she carefully strokes along the side of its neck as it turns its head side to side, seemingly awaiting a command. With a slight lift of her hand it takes flight, and a few moments later she tosses up bait for it to take.
To anyone watching her, she appears at peace. She is smiling and calm, watching the bird glide throughout the dilapidated buildings of the city. It circles her, awaiting its next morsel, and she throws another treat-- farther this time, and it dives after it.
It does not seem as if she notices that you may be approaching her. This may be odd to those who know her well enough to have noticed how normally attentive she is to her surroundings. ]
B: Returning from the Labs, Evening
[ For those of her who have known her throughout these months, they may also know by now that she is not shy to engage in contact.
Nothing has changed on that front, and so when you happen to join her on one of the streets, she will greet you with a pleasant, serene smile. As is also typical. ] Oh, are you heading this same way...?
[ Have a hand offered to you, fingers outstretched. Should you take it, her grip is light. To those who have taken her hand often before, this may seem odd. ] Let's walk together.
Instead there is emptiness as deep and overwhelming as the sea, perplexing, disorienting, storming, and cold. She peers into its maelstrom and knows that she ought to be there beneath it all, surrounding her, sealing her. That is the tomb she had chosen for herself for centuries, after all, basking in the safety of emptiness thus keeping the world safe in turn. How can emptiness feel so heavy and crippling, as if she's never experienced it before? Has she learned nothing?
No, she has learned something. It is the same lesson she has learned before-- ]
For those of his family and Eos, and for those of you who knew him, Somnus is no longer in Havenwell. I may only hope that he has returned to his homeworld in peace.
Please, let's all work together more to restore this world, so that perhaps those of us who wish to return to our worlds may also have the opportunity to return.
[ --that she must do what is necessary to secure the future of her world. She must return to her world. To return where she must be, to return to the state she had originally been in, to return to her Father and beg him for peace at last. Somnus has returned to his world, thereby ensuring its future. She has not forgotten that she, too, has the very same duty. Her love and her loss, this hollowness, this numbness-- she knows, she knows, it is painful, guilty; she ought not harbor any of these feelings. Yet terribly against her nature as it may be to experience emotions at all, they have one use in their turmoil and admiration for the world and all those in it: that they are reminding her, inspiring her to do what must be done to ensure that the future of her world remains. ]
A: Falconing. Morning.
He's gone, little partner. We are sorry. [ It's only Horus to whom she murmurs, the falcon unwittingly left behind by man who owned it. Presently the raptor is perched upon her arm, and she carefully strokes along the side of its neck as it turns its head side to side, seemingly awaiting a command. With a slight lift of her hand it takes flight, and a few moments later she tosses up bait for it to take.
To anyone watching her, she appears at peace. She is smiling and calm, watching the bird glide throughout the dilapidated buildings of the city. It circles her, awaiting its next morsel, and she throws another treat-- farther this time, and it dives after it.
It does not seem as if she notices that you may be approaching her. This may be odd to those who know her well enough to have noticed how normally attentive she is to her surroundings. ]
B: Returning from the Labs, Evening
[ For those of her who have known her throughout these months, they may also know by now that she is not shy to engage in contact.
Nothing has changed on that front, and so when you happen to join her on one of the streets, she will greet you with a pleasant, serene smile. As is also typical. ] Oh, are you heading this same way...?
[ Have a hand offered to you, fingers outstretched. Should you take it, her grip is light. To those who have taken her hand often before, this may seem odd. ] Let's walk together.
no subject
This topic is too self-pitying. It’s not her. ]
What... message would you be giving him?
no subject
Can we come to some kind of arrangement where you at least pretend to answer a question before you throw it back at me? Even if said answer is just, "mind your own business, Noctis"?
no subject
Looking away from him, her shoulders sag slightly when she exhales. She’s listless...
And she’s being disrespectful to him, always dodging his inquires. Out of all the times and reasons she hasn’t answered him before, this question of delivering a message is of lesser significance to deny— which it might not matter, as it’s likely he won’t remember that which occurs here. This is a thought exercise at best and nothing more, one that she even won’t let herself entertain....
Yet she’s tired. And he’s insistent. He only wants to help her. He is helping, even if she does not realize it. ]
You... [ It’s a delay. It seems she’s formulating some sort of response. ]
You’re very stubborn.
no subject
[He'll wait. Dodging the question is still an option, of course- and halfway expected more often than not. He'd just rather she be honest about it at this point.]
no subject
[ Her gaze falls, then her eyes close. Bittersweet is too ordinary a word to describe the complexity of what she feels, of gratitude and sorrow and more, much less all else of what she wants to say to him. But it captures the innocent essence of it, what can be seen upon her smile on the surface.
Yet her hand in his betrays her. It trembles, then stops, and her gaze opens. ]
May your soul find peace.
no subject
The trembling of her hand is plenty telling, and as she finishes speaking he tugs her arm closer, wrapping his free hand around their joined ones. His expression is serious- sad, but firm.]
I promise. Even if I forget, I promise. They'll all be free soon, and then he can rest.
[Somnus had said as much, and Noctis believed it. When the prophecy is finished, and he's done his job, the kings and queens of Lucis can end their vigil, their duty fulfilled. ]
no subject
Do not souls all want freedom, rest? She supposes they do. They must. To keep them beyond their allotted time is a cruelty. In Noctis' world, though, there is a chance that the soul of someone she cares deeply about may find peace. It lies in the actions of Noctis, in what he does whenever he may return to his world. In her world, the soul she keeps of another will only be released upon her own discretion-- Her vision blurs, and a few blinks do nothing to relieve the mist in her eyes. She's cruel, what she is doing. She knows this.
And Noctis is benevolent, to want to bring that cruelty cursed upon his family to an end. If only someone would deliver the same to her in her world.
She's sorry, she's sorry. But it's necessary for the future. ] ...Thank you. [ The breath she draws next is shaky as she attempts to compose herself. ] Let's, ah. Let's... return Horus to his mews. [ The mews in their yard, which is full of sylleblossoms. It seems that she'll be thinking of someone, too, when she sees them. ]
no subject
[He rises to his feet, holding his arm up so Horus can reposition himself on his arm again, a more stable place to perch when they walk. He's still holding her hand, but he doesn't pull her up with him; instead he waits, keeping near, prepared to help her up when she's ready.
As she said: forward. The only way to go. But hopefully, not alone.]
no subject
Most of her existence, she (rather, they) have been alone. Alone and away from humanity. It's a miracle that she's able to hold anyone's hand-- no. She reworks this thought: it is a miracle that someone like him exists and is willing to lend her his hand. That anyone here would. It's a miracle that she's not alone.
Onward means that she's moving forward in the hopes that one day, she too might leave all behind and find peace. For the sake of all of these miracles, blinding like Somnus, dazzling like Noctis, and so, so many others. They are lights that shine, but unlike how Noctis might hold onto his own lights, she should not touch them at all. Yet here she is.
This does not make her any less appreciative of what he has to offer, and so she walks with him, hand in hand. Onward means giving into the indulgence of holding these miracles' hands. Onward means forfeiting to the pain that might come with abandoning it, when the day comes that oblivion may take her to save her world. ]
...Mm, Noct? [ She speaks as they approach her residence. Always it begins with this, an mm, Noct, as if seeking permission to speak. ]
no subject
He'd kept it quiet and in the back of his mind as they walked, and that all-too familiar query catches his attention, drawing him back to the present. He glances sidelong at her, quietly curious; he's long since given up trying to predict what her next words might be when she calls his name like that.]
Mm, Pyra?
[Doesn't mean he can't play a little. She's smiling, even if it's small or sad or tired. He wants to help her hold it if it's real, or make it so if it isn't. Bit by bit, things can get better.]
no subject
They're just at the front of the house. She steps forward, raising her eyes to meet his as her fingers curl into his touch. ]
Thank you. [ She had said this earlier. She repeats it again, only this time with another reason. ] Thank you... for having been such a good friend.
[ There. So even if she leaves by the next day herself, he'll at least have heard that, if it means anything at all to him. A day will come when that happens, eventually. If it is tomorrow, then he should at least know how wonderful he is, too. There will be no one to deliver messages to her if she leaves, and none to give them to others on her behalf. This is it, all they have here, the present forever being overtaken by the future. ]
no subject
Yeah, you too. I like the job, think I'll stick with it a while.
[This place is transient, unpredictable; they both understand that well, having lost people, having woken up to an empty bed after falling asleep contented, happy. That wound doesn't closer over easily, and is prone to ugly scabbing. For a while, though, she's here. And he's here. That's enough.]
no subject
[ And although it is something of a joke, she considers-- perhaps there is some truth to it. "Thank you", gratitude, perhaps it's not enough. Perhaps she's not giving enough to him. But what could she give him in appreciation that would be enough? What would he even want from her?
She opens the door. If he decides this is where their conversation ends, she will take Horus. If not, he's welcomed to be led inside by her. ]
no subject
[The casualness is a blessing, but he won't push it. He'd also had no intention of staying beyond the door, since now he has gears turning in the brain and needs to act on that before he chickens out, so he passes Horus over and releases her hand, lifting his instead for a wave.]
I gotta confirm something real quick, but I'll check in with you later, okay? And tomorrow. You know... I'll be around.
no subject
She delivers the same, taking Horus upon her forearm. The falcon climbs onto her arm, and she appears not at all bothered to support the animal without some sort of protection over her skin. ]
Take care, Noct.