[He blinks at that, caught off guard for a moment, though perhaps he shouldn't be. It's not unusual for her to compliment him, but the emphasis in her expression makes him pause before he says something playfully dismissive, to give her words the weight they deserve.
Maybe he doesn't always have the best opinion of himself, finding his flaws too easy to pick apart and overthink, while at the same time trying to project more bravado than he perhaps deserves, depending on the situation. But despite it all, he... he likes himself, who he grew up to become, who he's still growing into being. He's not as full of regret as someone who'd lived a poor life might be, facing off against the cliff of his inevitable demise far too soon. He can think back on so many good things, accomplishments and victories and so many good memories. Life has been hard, and harsh, and cruel. But so much of it was beautiful, too.
He squeezes her hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.]
I'm really lucky... I've got so much good in my life. There's a lot of people we'd have to line up and thank if we wanted to give credit how 'perfect' I actually am. [His voice softens.] But yeah... I'm glad he did, too. I'm not mad anymore, at him, or myself.
[Hiding it, not hiding it... he can't say for sure what would be the right decision, not really. The alternate version exists only as a grim imagination, not a reality he'd had to live through. He can't imagine it being better, though. He'd had 20 years of blissful ignorance, and his father had had a chance to know him here without that gloom hanging over their heads. It's a blessing, and he'll take it. No regrets.]
[ Then she'd thank each and every one of them too, all who have contributed and interacted with him to help guide or influence the man he's become today.
...She's glad that it's been resolved, whatever frustration he had as a youth that carried over to adulthood, and she's equally glad that he's found understanding through it. That's not a task many can accomplish, no matter how many years have passed. This is just another thing for which to admire him. ]
Do you think your relationship has changed, now that he knows?
[ Noctis had seemed to be worried about that, before. ]
[He huffs a long exhale, brows furrowing. It is a good question, and one he's been kind of playing by ear since his father woke.]
I can't see how it wouldn't, but... I don't know how it'll go, yet. I mean, I don't think it'll be a bad thing, but will it be better? Worse? We should be more on the same page, I... think.
[Really, he hopes. But he can't speak for Regis, and they're still working through it. It'll probably take some time.]
[ It's something she'd be worried about, and she can understand if he'd be concerned, too. Not allowing another to know the truth is so much easier in many respects. She's guilty of that to a fault. Only Noctis knows what she must do in her own world, too.
But time will tell, and there's not much more she can do. ] Mm... Then let me know if there's anything-- listen, anything-- [ She repeats for emphasis, lifting a hand to his cheek, giving the side of his face a gentle guide to turn his to hers. ] I can do to help.
[He turns easily into her touch, lips curling into a quiet smile.]
I'm not sure how I would've managed to deal with all of this if it wasn't for you, you know.
[She's been supporting him this whole time, letting him talk through it, guiding him but not directing him towards his choices, patiently waiting for him to decide. And now here she is again, helping him sort out the aftermath. Who else would he go to, if not her? If anything, he's taking advantage of her offers to help with it already.]
[ She's glad she took he chance with a potentially more morose topic to speak with him, to see how he's doing, and she's come out reassured that... he's doing fine, overall, and she's grateful to help in any way she can. This conversation has given her more to think about, too.
Her fingers slide from his cheek to his shoulder, and she takes this opportunity to lean in and give him a tender kiss. When she pulls back, her gaze drifts from him to over his shoulder, looking at something at just beyond him.
Then she takes his hands and stands from the couch, giving them a tug. ] Want to dance?
[He'd almost turned at her attention beyond him, curious, but the question is a distraction that works well enough, and he sets aside his mug as he pushes himself to his feet with her.]
Sure sounds like you do.
[Well, he doesn't mind. They're just at home with no eyes on them, and he's gotten better about relaxing with this sort of thing. They danced at parties before! This is no big deal.]
Then... grab your coat, if you need it. [ Maybe he doesn't need it, what with his newfound protective warmth of his own and her to supply extra by his side.
She glances over his shoulder again, indicating to the outside. ]
Let's dance out there in the snow, like we did two years ago.
[He considers it for a moment, but opts to follow without an extra layer; if they end up too cold, they can just cuddle up or go back in. He does remember to get his boots on, though. No dancing in the snow in his socks.]
Do you still remember the dance?
[At this point it's been so long he's wondering if he remembers it. Though the context of that particular dance is a little different now, in light of their current relationship.]
[ When he rejoins her, her hand finds his; together, they make their way outside to an area that's spacious enough for the dance. How could she forget?
She imagines it's chilly for anyone else who would be out here with the snow falling softly around them, but that gives her all the more reason to remain close to him to provide him with warmth. ]
Let's see... One pair of hands remains like this-- [ She gives his palm a squeeze. ] And the other goes like this. [ She pulls herself in, lifting her hand to rest upon his shoulder. Pyra lifts her head, looking up at him. Back then, she hadn't felt at all shy to dance with him. She doesn't feel shy now, and since it's been so long, she feels excited to try it again with him. ]
[He starts out tentative at first - it's been what, two years now? hard to believe - but the repetition and practice of his youth comes back to him gradually, all muscle memory and more confidence in his ability to move with and touch her than he'd had back then. It takes less time for him to lift his gaze and focus on her, rather than their shifting feet, less time to smile and relax as they flow through each stage of the dance. Where once he was nervous and stumbling over directions, now his shoulders are lifted, his back straight, his hands gliding easily from one position to another against her. Where once he couldn't decide where to rest his eyes and darted them uncertainly around, now he watches her move, echoing her body language, her joy. Where once he was sad and quiet, carrying the heavy burden of a fallen kingdom, now he is settled into the path he's meant to take, living in his borrowed time as happily as he's able. Rather than a lesson, this feels more like a true representation of what the dance would be like, ceremonially and emotionally, between two bonded partners. They've come a long way, and even he recognizes it.
He spins her out towards each corner, his arms opening up to welcome her back each time before he sends her out once more. They turn, they circle, dancing to a tune heard only in their minds. When they reach the finale, he needs no permission from her this time: his hands touch her waist and raise her up, turning them about in a full circle, before he lowers her into the one-handed dip, the other raised up towards the sun. He poses, he waits, he breathes.
The disturbed snow at their feet paints the vague silhouette of a flower, with the two perfectly centered.]
[ Her motions fall right into line with his, following his lead wherever the next step of the dance takes them. Out with a spin, in to his arm, and out then in again, drawing a pattern in the snow with each of their steps. She's grinning by the second rotation, earrings swaying with the dance and crimson hair falling against her cheeks at the end of a turn.
Pyra remembers the dance, certainly, but between that first dance and now, she remembers all else she has gone through, all else he has gone through, all they have helped each other with together. This dance paints a sigil into the ground, but between the dancers themselves, it illustrates all the trust between them, the journey they've been through, and creates something beautiful of it. When he places his hands about her waist for the lip, her hands goes to his shoulders to assist, her eyes locking with his as he turns her in the air. She's giggling softy, happily by the time her feet find their balance on the ground, and from there it's finale with the dip, once more supported by him.
If it wouldn't upset their balance further, she would kiss him in this position, and she hopes the sentiment is there when her palm finds its way to his cheek and her gaze remains lost in his. She's breathless-- not from the dance itself, but from all that it's evoked. It occurs to her that a simple dance shouldn't be this overwhelming, but when it's with him, when a dance shared again from two years past means so much (that they're both still here, that they're together, that they had this memory and can repeat it again, as if building a tradition of their own)-- ]
N-Noct...
[ She has no words at the moment, not really. She has only the love in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch, the affection and warmth to share with her body and palm against him. She has so much of that adoration and love she wants to give him, but can't be given in a single moment. ]
Oh shit, [he utters, somewhat helplessly, grinning like a damned fool. They did it. They actually- it went great. The flower beneath them is a hot mess, nothing so neat as what it would look like on the grand marble of a Lucian ballroom, but he can see it and that's the true goal. He held her, he didn't fall. They remembered the steps. He didn't even slip in the snow and drop her! They'd been completely in sync the whole time, like they'd done it a hundred times before.
It's just... symbolic, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. There's no kingdom or citizenry to support, no walls to build. This tradition should be dead and gone. But to him, in this moment, it feels like a tremendous success, and one he truly can't find words for.
Carefully he pulls her back up to her feet, supporting her with both hands, and for a moment just quietly marvels at it all, at her, at this inconsequential yet at the same time monumental victory. He leans in to kiss her once, twice, both hasty and wild.]
[ She smiles into his kisses, and settled back on her feet, she's stable enough to give him one in return. With the dance over, she clasps her hands together behind his neck, idly swaying with him in the center of the flower-pattern they've drawn. ]
Is that so surprising?
[ His excitement is infectious as she takes in his expression. Architect, he's practically glowing with a grin like that. Anyone who says he's a poor dancer doesn't know him, and whenever he insists that he's not a good dancer, either, she'll be quick to remind him of how flawlessly he can. ]
[He wouldn't feel so exuberantly flustered if he'd expected it to go that well. She's always had an excellent memory (and with how he understands the crystal now, that part isn't a surprise) and meanwhile, he's lucky if he remembers to mend a loose button hours after being reminded. Phone alerts will spare him from missing important dates, but a dance practiced for a wedding that never happened years ago? That's a taller ask. Yet somehow it had all just... clicked.]
Maybe I've... been overthinking it this whole time.
[ It's easy to admire him, as if each expression he makes is a work of art. As for over-thinking things, usually she's the one guilty of it. This time, though, the dance had come without a second thought. ]
I've always thought you were a good dancer. [ They did this dance before, but they've also danced during the New Year's celebration two years ago, and other times. She continues to sway with him, guiding them into a comfortable, slow turn. ] Even when we spar, your movements have this fluidity to them. And you don't seem to over-think things in combat.
[He spins her out, the movements slow and relaxed compared to the whirlwind of movement that was the dance prior. He likes this too, the casual motions they can make up on a whim, over the structured process of a planned dance, even if that one was fun. He'd said as much before, at his dad's winter party.]
Fighting can be kinda like a dance, sure. It's not as strict most of the time, though. I can do what I want, when I want. [He tilts his head, looking thoughtful.] Though me and the guys have coordinated moves together, and those we had to work on and practice. So maybe it transfers over pretty naturally.
I'm lucky to have a partner that would teach me this particular dance. [ She voice is fonder now, her gaze thoughtful. ] It feels... special, somehow.
[ Perhaps because it forms-- or is supposed to form-- the Lucian crest, or maybe that it's supposed to mean something as to good luck. But she knows the real reason: it's because she was able to complete this dance with him. ]
Well, it is special in that way, technically. [He leans in while they're close, bumping his forehead gently to hers.] You're meant to dance it with your lover.
[Or soon-to-be, or newly wedded, or had-to-get-married-in-some-other-country-so-here's-the-ceremony-post-honeymoon- anyway.]
[ Before, he had only mentioned that there was some superstition based on how well the dance was performed. This angle gives the dance a more…— ] That… Instead if strictly ceremonial, that makes the dance more… romantic.
Now that he's said it, she allows herself to wonder what would it be like. (She shouldn't get too excited, and she cannot stop her blush. But if. If he was to choose her...)
Him, her, a wedding. Pyra cannot imagine herself as a bride, but she can imagine him as a groom, slimmed into a formal suit, elegant and handsome and just slightly nervous, but happy for whomever he's chosen as his bride. Could that be her?-- is a thought that shouldn't be crossing her mind, presumptuous as it is, given his past and how he was once engaged (and the fallout thereof).
Is this topic so easy for him to speak of? He is smiling, though... ]
It's... a very fitting dance for a wedding. Very elegant and-- you as the groom... You would have danced it perfectly.
[it's admittedly easier than it used to be. For so long the subject had made him anxious, and after Luna died, even the word wedding could cause him some distress, at times obvious, at other times more subtle and insidious. He'd had a hard time at some parts of Era's wedding, though he'd kept it mostly to himself and the end of it had been distracting enough that it became the last thing on his mind.
Here and now, a few years away from it and with plenty of family and friends around to support him and help him heal, the deepest wounds associated with weddings have mended well. It might always hurt a little in some ways he's not yet aware of, but the bittersweet feeling is far preferable to that stabbing ache it used to be. He can smile, he can enjoy this dance with her and not feel like his whole world has shattered.
He can think, unexpectedly and to his own surprise, of her in a beautiful dress, decorated in jewelry, waiting for a crown, surrounded by friends. Meeting him in the center of the room and taking his hand for-
-ah. That's… terrifying, but what a lovely image that is, at the same time.]
...You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing.
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Maybe he doesn't always have the best opinion of himself, finding his flaws too easy to pick apart and overthink, while at the same time trying to project more bravado than he perhaps deserves, depending on the situation. But despite it all, he... he likes himself, who he grew up to become, who he's still growing into being. He's not as full of regret as someone who'd lived a poor life might be, facing off against the cliff of his inevitable demise far too soon. He can think back on so many good things, accomplishments and victories and so many good memories. Life has been hard, and harsh, and cruel. But so much of it was beautiful, too.
He squeezes her hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.]
I'm really lucky... I've got so much good in my life. There's a lot of people we'd have to line up and thank if we wanted to give credit how 'perfect' I actually am. [His voice softens.] But yeah... I'm glad he did, too. I'm not mad anymore, at him, or myself.
[Hiding it, not hiding it... he can't say for sure what would be the right decision, not really. The alternate version exists only as a grim imagination, not a reality he'd had to live through. He can't imagine it being better, though. He'd had 20 years of blissful ignorance, and his father had had a chance to know him here without that gloom hanging over their heads. It's a blessing, and he'll take it. No regrets.]
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...She's glad that it's been resolved, whatever frustration he had as a youth that carried over to adulthood, and she's equally glad that he's found understanding through it. That's not a task many can accomplish, no matter how many years have passed. This is just another thing for which to admire him. ]
Do you think your relationship has changed, now that he knows?
[ Noctis had seemed to be worried about that, before. ]
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[He huffs a long exhale, brows furrowing. It is a good question, and one he's been kind of playing by ear since his father woke.]
I can't see how it wouldn't, but... I don't know how it'll go, yet. I mean, I don't think it'll be a bad thing, but will it be better? Worse? We should be more on the same page, I... think.
[Really, he hopes. But he can't speak for Regis, and they're still working through it. It'll probably take some time.]
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But time will tell, and there's not much more she can do. ] Mm... Then let me know if there's anything-- listen, anything-- [ She repeats for emphasis, lifting a hand to his cheek, giving the side of his face a gentle guide to turn his to hers. ] I can do to help.
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[He turns easily into her touch, lips curling into a quiet smile.]
I'm not sure how I would've managed to deal with all of this if it wasn't for you, you know.
[She's been supporting him this whole time, letting him talk through it, guiding him but not directing him towards his choices, patiently waiting for him to decide. And now here she is again, helping him sort out the aftermath. Who else would he go to, if not her? If anything, he's taking advantage of her offers to help with it already.]
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Her fingers slide from his cheek to his shoulder, and she takes this opportunity to lean in and give him a tender kiss. When she pulls back, her gaze drifts from him to over his shoulder, looking at something at just beyond him.
Then she takes his hands and stands from the couch, giving them a tug. ] Want to dance?
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Sure sounds like you do.
[Well, he doesn't mind. They're just at home with no eyes on them, and he's gotten better about relaxing with this sort of thing. They danced at parties before! This is no big deal.]
It's been a while, huh?
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She glances over his shoulder again, indicating to the outside. ]
Let's dance out there in the snow, like we did two years ago.
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Do you still remember the dance?
[At this point it's been so long he's wondering if he remembers it. Though the context of that particular dance is a little different now, in light of their current relationship.]
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She imagines it's chilly for anyone else who would be out here with the snow falling softly around them, but that gives her all the more reason to remain close to him to provide him with warmth. ]
Let's see... One pair of hands remains like this-- [ She gives his palm a squeeze. ] And the other goes like this. [ She pulls herself in, lifting her hand to rest upon his shoulder. Pyra lifts her head, looking up at him. Back then, she hadn't felt at all shy to dance with him. She doesn't feel shy now, and since it's been so long, she feels excited to try it again with him. ]
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He spins her out towards each corner, his arms opening up to welcome her back each time before he sends her out once more. They turn, they circle, dancing to a tune heard only in their minds. When they reach the finale, he needs no permission from her this time: his hands touch her waist and raise her up, turning them about in a full circle, before he lowers her into the one-handed dip, the other raised up towards the sun. He poses, he waits, he breathes.
The disturbed snow at their feet paints the vague silhouette of a flower, with the two perfectly centered.]
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Pyra remembers the dance, certainly, but between that first dance and now, she remembers all else she has gone through, all else he has gone through, all they have helped each other with together. This dance paints a sigil into the ground, but between the dancers themselves, it illustrates all the trust between them, the journey they've been through, and creates something beautiful of it. When he places his hands about her waist for the lip, her hands goes to his shoulders to assist, her eyes locking with his as he turns her in the air. She's giggling softy, happily by the time her feet find their balance on the ground, and from there it's finale with the dip, once more supported by him.
If it wouldn't upset their balance further, she would kiss him in this position, and she hopes the sentiment is there when her palm finds its way to his cheek and her gaze remains lost in his. She's breathless-- not from the dance itself, but from all that it's evoked. It occurs to her that a simple dance shouldn't be this overwhelming, but when it's with him, when a dance shared again from two years past means so much (that they're both still here, that they're together, that they had this memory and can repeat it again, as if building a tradition of their own)-- ]
N-Noct...
[ She has no words at the moment, not really. She has only the love in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch, the affection and warmth to share with her body and palm against him. She has so much of that adoration and love she wants to give him, but can't be given in a single moment. ]
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It's just... symbolic, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. There's no kingdom or citizenry to support, no walls to build. This tradition should be dead and gone. But to him, in this moment, it feels like a tremendous success, and one he truly can't find words for.
Carefully he pulls her back up to her feet, supporting her with both hands, and for a moment just quietly marvels at it all, at her, at this inconsequential yet at the same time monumental victory. He leans in to kiss her once, twice, both hasty and wild.]
Oh man. Oh man! Did we seriously just do that?
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Is that so surprising?
[ His excitement is infectious as she takes in his expression. Architect, he's practically glowing with a grin like that. Anyone who says he's a poor dancer doesn't know him, and whenever he insists that he's not a good dancer, either, she'll be quick to remind him of how flawlessly he can. ]
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[He wouldn't feel so exuberantly flustered if he'd expected it to go that well. She's always had an excellent memory (and with how he understands the crystal now, that part isn't a surprise) and meanwhile, he's lucky if he remembers to mend a loose button hours after being reminded. Phone alerts will spare him from missing important dates, but a dance practiced for a wedding that never happened years ago? That's a taller ask. Yet somehow it had all just... clicked.]
Maybe I've... been overthinking it this whole time.
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I've always thought you were a good dancer. [ They did this dance before, but they've also danced during the New Year's celebration two years ago, and other times. She continues to sway with him, guiding them into a comfortable, slow turn. ] Even when we spar, your movements have this fluidity to them. And you don't seem to over-think things in combat.
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Fighting can be kinda like a dance, sure. It's not as strict most of the time, though. I can do what I want, when I want. [He tilts his head, looking thoughtful.] Though me and the guys have coordinated moves together, and those we had to work on and practice. So maybe it transfers over pretty naturally.
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And this dance...? I'd think that even if it is tradition, each who dance to it put their own flair to the flower we dance.
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Hmm... well, you're a lot more enthusiastic about it than my practice partners. I think that in and of itself is a big flair.
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[ Perhaps because it forms-- or is supposed to form-- the Lucian crest, or maybe that it's supposed to mean something as to good luck. But she knows the real reason: it's because she was able to complete this dance with him. ]
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[Or soon-to-be, or newly wedded, or had-to-get-married-in-some-other-country-so-here's-the-ceremony-post-honeymoon- anyway.]
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[ Before, he had only mentioned that there was some superstition based on how well the dance was performed. This angle gives the dance a more…— ] That… Instead if strictly ceremonial, that makes the dance more… romantic.
More than I thought it would be.
[ A blush forms across her cheeks. ]
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It's... it can be a wedding dance. For the new king and queen.
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Now that he's said it, she allows herself to wonder what would it be like. (She shouldn't get too excited, and she cannot stop her blush. But if. If he was to choose her...)
Him, her, a wedding. Pyra cannot imagine herself as a bride, but she can imagine him as a groom, slimmed into a formal suit, elegant and handsome and just slightly nervous, but happy for whomever he's chosen as his bride. Could that be her?-- is a thought that shouldn't be crossing her mind, presumptuous as it is, given his past and how he was once engaged (and the fallout thereof).
Is this topic so easy for him to speak of? He is smiling, though... ]
It's... a very fitting dance for a wedding. Very elegant and-- you as the groom... You would have danced it perfectly.
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Here and now, a few years away from it and with plenty of family and friends around to support him and help him heal, the deepest wounds associated with weddings have mended well. It might always hurt a little in some ways he's not yet aware of, but the bittersweet feeling is far preferable to that stabbing ache it used to be. He can smile, he can enjoy this dance with her and not feel like his whole world has shattered.
He can think, unexpectedly and to his own surprise, of her in a beautiful dress, decorated in jewelry, waiting for a crown, surrounded by friends. Meeting him in the center of the room and taking his hand for-
-ah. That's… terrifying, but what a lovely image that is, at the same time.]
...You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing.
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