iustaegis | IC contact for hugtopia

[ As his hesitation turns over his words and his hand tenses, she gives his hand a squeeze, taking in his expression. She cannot read his mind, and she'd be naïve to guess as to why he had been given any of his world's memories in the first place, in such a overwhelming way. However, this is one of the few times he's actually asked anything of her, and she's happy that he's voicing a desire to try. The least she can do is ensure that he'll be safe.

If... if he is somehow supposed to absorb all of those memories anyway, why not do so piecemeal and at a pace he desires? She will make it safe for him. And in this world, they can always stop if a memory becomes too much. ]

Then the dishes can wait.

[ Pyra steps away, beginning to lead him back to their room. ]

I have to ask, though... Are you just curious?

[He follows her without hesitating, genuinely grateful for her kind nature. Whatever his answer ends up being, her support is exactly what he needs right now.]

Be easier if I was.

[If it was simple curiosity, he could be more at ease about it, take his time or opt not to try at all. Curiosity killed the cat and all, and these memories already nearly killed him once. That's plenty reason to never want to touch this part of himself ever again.]

I was just thinking- getting all those memories, it must've been for a reason, right? It feels weird that they'd do something that could kill their Chosen unless it had some kind of purpose. So... locking them up and forgetting about them... I dunno, it feels like running away, in a sense.

[ Her lips purse as she mulls over his theory, and eventually comes to the conclusion that there being a purpose to housing the memories is as good as any.

But the second half of what he says has her pause. ] Maybe it's a matter of semantics, but... I don't think you're 'running away'. [ Another pause, and at their doorway, she turns to look at him. ] Noct. Whatever those memories may hold, not having them flood you is protecting yourself-- and you deserve to protect yourself, too.

[ ... ] Although, I don't think it's a terrible idea to believe there could be something important in those memories. [ Something worth risking the life of their Chosen, at that, to have him house all that knowledge.

In the end, she's only able to speculate. ]

I was thinking about the not-following-up part more than the protecting-myself part. I'm fine with that. I can't die to save the world if I die having my head overloaded, or whatever.

[It feels a little strange to just come out and say it, but it's the truth. Like an overfilled water balloon, he'd been close to bursting. He'd seen the blood. People don't bleed like that unless there's something seriously wrong with them. And the rest is... well, it's the truth. Avoiding it is definitely running away.

He pauses, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he mulls over the rest of her words, then opens the door, nudging inside.]

Bahamut never told me anything, just the vague barebones. You'd think if I had ten years to kill in there he could at least explain everything properly...

[ She closes the door behind them, following him inside by the hand. ]

You don't think, maybe, he might tell you more? If it's ten years, and you're not yet a decade older.... [ She's grasping for some thread of hope, but her tone sounds as if she knows it's a weak one. From the sound of it, the "barebones" is all he's going to get.

Eventually, she settles upon the edge of the bed. Her other hand goes to her own crystal, and her head bows. ] It's--.... just so strange to me, how he doesn't seem to trust his own Chosen more.

[He shakes his head, dropping down onto the bed next to her and looking down at his lap. Strange that the glow of the crystal that meets him when he looks down is more comfort to him than his own crystal could ever be, now. The one moment where it might have at last given him relief - to fight the daemons, to save his friends, to liberate their home - was shattered when its magic clutched his wrist and forcibly dragged him within.]

Maybe, after what happened with Ardyn, the gods decided they didn't need trust, just obedience.

[That's assuming they'd trusted him to begin with. They'd given their family such great power, and doubled it up in Ardyn's case- not just the crystal's magic, but a healing power, though it was more twisted than the Oracle's. It hasn't helped. Or was all of that planned from the beginning, too? Was it easier if the worst of the scourge and their world's darkness was channeled through one man rather than spread out? Who even knows...]

Maybe it'll all come together when I've been in the crystal that long, but since I've been dragged here, what if that messes something up? Interrupts whatever it's doing? If there's something important that I'll need later... I should find out what it is. Just in case.

[ She looks at his profile. It's impossible not to marvel at the complexity that his expression holds, how sincere he is as he confesses his worries-- which she assumes to be are only a few of the great many he holds. Pyra's hold on his hand adjusts, weaving her fingers with his.

For his sake, she hopes that he finds an answer in these memories. ]

...Let's try with a memory, then. Or a few. But, Noct-- [ She leans in. ] Promise me you won't exert yourself, okay? [ His fears that his presence here may interfere with what's needed to save his world isn't unfounded. None here know what truly happens if and when they return, how much they may remember, or if they do at all. Perhaps this is the responsible thing to do on his part, for all they know. Either way, she won't invalidate his feelings, but she will support him. ] 'Just in case'. We'll get through a memory just in case, at a pace you want.

[He glances up to meet her eyes as she shifts closer, surprised initially, though he knows he shouldn't be. Of course her concern would be for him rather than the expectations on his shoulders. She's always been kinder to him than he is to himself.

After a second or two, he musters a smile, shaking his head again.]

I promise. Or- I'll try not to, at least. I don't really know what to expect. Even so, I... I wanna give it a shot.

[He owes the world - and to some extent, himself - at least that much.]

We can start with one. We'll see what happens after that.

One, it is. [ Pyra brings his hand up to her lips, giving his knuckles a kiss. Whatever happens, she's here to support him. Offering another smile in a way she hopes is reassuring, she then guides that same hand to her chest, allowing him to touch the crystal there. Similarly, she reaches with her other hand to his chest, moving beneath his shirt so she may rest her palm upon his crystal. ]

And now... let's focus. [ The crystal is his, tied to his soul; therefore the memories sealed inside will not be within her own mindscape, but his own. Eyes sliding shut, she summons forth the basis of her power, golden and gentle, to create a bridge between her and him, linking them further and reaching out to the crystalline blue of his own. Together, they will enter the recesses of his mind, coming into form.

Whatever location or void in which he may place them, soon they'll be standing before a representation of how he believes the vault that houses his crystal's memories to look like. ]

[It's a different experience, her venturing into his crystal rather than the reverse, though it's similarly disorienting and sudden. One moment he's in their room, the next he's effortlessly drawn into an endless sea of undulating shades of blue, peppered with stars and shining lights. It strongly resembles the interior of his magic armory, or the core of the Crystal itself when he'd met Bahamut, and for a moment he feels disappointed that it's just this again, this miserable emptiness that brought him so much grief back home, as well as nearly killed him twice here... but then he starts to notice the fragments of colour and architecture cutting through the otherwise stagnant realm.

The first one he sees looks almost like an island, fragmented and crumbling at the edges, but there's such an obvious familiarity to the architecture that he feels immediately drawn to it. Arcs of obsidian stone and polished marble, accents of gold marking out nostalgic shapes and patterns. It's unmistakably Lucian. It's still distant, segments drawing together as if forming as he focuses on it, but he suspects it'll become fully recognizable soon.

His voice is quiet as he speaks, finally breaking the uneasy silence that the visual had formed in him.]

It... looks like home. I feel like I should've expected that, but- [He really hadn't.]

[ Broken and fragmented the architecture may be, the obsidian stone and gold is no less beautiful as more of it comes together. She recognizes the motifs, too, having been privy to a few of his visions of the throne room of his world.

She takes his hand. ]

Let's move closer.

[ She's not sure what she expected-- a library, perhaps, or some easy metaphor through which he can browse memories. Fragments of memories, on the other hand, make sense as well, for he had been effected when his crystal's memories flooded him. Perhaps these are the conceptual scars of the event. ]

[His fingers curl easily around hers, and he walks alongside her as they walk towards the construct as it slowly assembles itself into something more familiar. A part of him had expected the throne room, because it's happened enough that it feels predestined at this point. Somehow though, those sweeping stairs never appear, nor does the golden accented throne or the enormous windows. Instead he sees... a room. Ornate and beautifully stylized, admittedly, with gleaming marble walls, expensive carved furniture, but nonetheless just a fancy room in the Citadel. There's a canopy bed, a curved desk, a few side tables with books, flowers, and a teapot peppered around the room. It's empty, but the illusion of warm sunlight filters in through the large windows. It's also very familiar.

Noctis pauses at the edge, hesitating, then touches the edge of the construct, testing its stability, then hefts himself up to sit on the edge, holding his other hand out to her to help her up as well.]

I... think we found my old room.

[ With his help, she sits upon the ledge next to him. ]

Your... room?

[ Pyra takes a few moments to gather the scenery in, imagining just how life might have been for a younger Noctis in this very same room. Spacious and ornate, it's certainly fit for a prince, but it has an air of loneliness to it. Having lived with him for so long, it doesn't seem quite him. That, or this is another part of him she hasn't had the privilege to meet until now. ]

It's beautiful... Exactly what I'd picture for a prince.

It wasn't exactly like this. Some of the colours are different.

[He points towards the bed, the sheets a faded peach.]

Mine were blue. Maybe this is from a different generation. The furniture looks similar, though... must've lasted decades.

[It makes sense. He remembers them being fancy and well made, which meant they were built to last. A few of them even had old magic scars.]

[ She follows the point of his finger towards the bed, and then her eyes widen. ]

Oh...! You think-- this might already be a memory from the crystal?

Maybe.

[He watches the space of the room for a long moment, waiting for something to happen. It feels... oddly peaceful, in a way that it really hadn't been when he lived here. Always too quiet and lonely, and whenever someone came to see him it was Highness this, Highness that, bowing and showing deference to a child in a way he'd hated. He hadn't done anything to deserve all of that except been born.

He shifts position, facing into the room instead with knees half-propped in front of him, his brows furrowing.]

The crystal must've had a million memories like this. Just... long stretches where nothing happened, where no one did anything, the world just existed. When we were traveling around Lucis, there were so many places totally untouched by anyone. It's not like the room stopped existing while no one was in it.

[ In other words, if they continue to sit here and wait for something to happen, they may be waiting a while.

Pyra studies his thoughtful profile, then gives his hand a squeeze. ] You mentioned this was your old room, but different-- someone else's. [ Either a previous prince or princess. ] Do any of the decorations strike you as... theirs?

[Her question is a distraction from the grim thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, and he quietly welcomes it.]

Uh... let's see.

[He leans forward a bit, searching for any particular details that might ping him. At first it's just a basic aesthetic, nothing too interesting, until a curious set of extrusions from the wall adjacent to the bed catches his attention, and he points it out, somewhat uncertain with his words, but the thought coming to mind otherwise unprompted.]

That over there... there was a prince who had trouble learning how to use the armory, like I did. He got a weapon on his sixteenth birthday- uh, it's a traditional thing- but he couldn't use it the way he was supposed to. I think there was a problem with... a council? No, it was some nobles back then...

[His brows furrow, grimacing as he tries to push too hard for it. It's like the memory is right there, but the more he chases it the more it slips through his fingers. It's frustrating. This is what he's supposed to do, isn't it?]

[ She allows him a moment or two to attempt to figure it out for himself-- to give him the benefit of the doubt that he can on his own-- but when it's clear that frustration is setting in to cause his brow to furrow, she guesses that a little help might, well, help him.

Only problem: Pyra herself is not too sure how to help him, either, because she knows so little of his world's history.

...But she can offer him a little more of her own power in order to help obtain that clarity of mind. ] Take your time... [ Pyra starts to say, looking at him patiently. She breathes in, relaxing beside him, and then summons some of her power to reach out to him, manifesting a golden bridge of soft, heatless light between them. Like all the times before, it may help him streamline his thoughts, should he welcome it-- or so she hopes. ] You got this.

[He pauses at her words, resistant at first - stubborn as ever and needing not to be a disappointment - before he catches himself and relaxes, closing his eyes as her presence and power warms him straight to the soul and soothes his nerves, bit by bit. Rather than chasing thoughts that had eluded him, he breathes in, out, and waits for it to come to him, like a butterfly alighting at the fringes of his mind. Details begin to form, and at last he can picture it.]

They were nobles. The prince was feeling discouraged, thinking he wouldn't be worthy of the Crystal when his time came. They talked about how the king should have another child, put aside the powerless one and try again. Poor kid.

[He can't help feeling sympathy for his predecessor. He'd walked that path, heard the criticisms. After his injury, re-learning how to walk, failing again and again to do things that his father could have done at half his age. But his father never caved to their requests, sometimes demands. He never gave up on Noctis. And this king...

He opens his eyes and looks up, and there's a teenage boy sitting on the bed, clad in robes not quite modern, but not as old-fashioned as Somnus. His dark hair hangs in his eyes, hiding his expression.

A tall man in elegant, flowing robes (and a slanted cape!) is standing where the wall extrusions are, setting a thin, rapier-type blade of beautiful craftsmanship into place. "There now," he says, sounding pleased. A curved crown of intersecting metal is tucked behind one ear. "Right within reach, should you ever need it. Scabbards are admittedly rare in our family, but the Warrior King used one, and he was without peer, so the stories say."

The boy mumbled something, and when the king prompted him to repeat, his voice is harsh. "I'm no warrior."

"Come now-"

"I'm not!" he shouts. "You know I'm not. What kind of prince can't even summon his sword? I'm sixteen now- I should be warping! Casting spells! But I can't- I'm useless!"

They bicker back and forth for a handful of moments, clearly an old argument of rehashed points. The son, tired of failure, of being told that success will come with time and practice when he's seen no evidence that it's true. The father, exhausted and heartsick by his child's self-doubt, wishing for his success if only so that some of the pressure might be lifted off his young shoulders. There is anger, guilt, heartbreak, until finally the prince snaps,

"Just do what they keep saying, okay!? Throw me away, have another kid! I'm defective- you can replace me, everyone wants that!"

There is a pause, a pained silence, broken at last by the king's shaken breath and striding footsteps. He closes the distance and grasps his son by the shoulders.

"There is only one of you, understand? There will only ever be one of you." His tone is firm, but kind, pleading for his son to hear him. "You are without equal, and one day you'll see it. They'll all see it. Let us never speak of 'replacement' again." With the gentlest hands, he wipes the once-hidden tears from beneath his child's eyes. "My son is irreplaceable."

The vision freezes, at that moment, and Noctis blinks, those same tears mirrored on his own cheeks.] Oh, [he whispers, dumbfounded.]

[ As the scene plays out, Pyra remains quiet by Noctis' side. The way in which the youth expresses his frustration and self-blame for being inadequate hurts to hear from someone so young. The gentle way in which the father attempts to assuage his doubts comes from his heart. Irresplacable, he says.

It's a picture of unconditional love. She hopes, in years to come, that love would have been enough for that young prince.

At Noctis' small breath, she turns her head to see the tears upon his cheeks. Smiling sympathetically, she reaches up to mirror the past king's touch, bringing her hand to Noctis' face to wipe away at one of the wet trails....

But of course. The way in which this archive of memories of the crystal works isn't just some library-cinema of the past. Because Eos' crystal is a part of Noctis, he may feel the emotions of those within. Perhaps he feels this particular memory's feelings more acutely than he will others, for the subject matter. ]

That's right. Irreplaceable.

[ She says this to Noctis. She wishes she could say it to the young prince of the memory, too, if only to reinforce what his father had said. ]

[For a moment he can't speak, hunching over a little and pressing a hand to his heart, as if it hurts, or it's pounding too fast it's threatening to burst out of his chest. But this isn't real- they're inside the crystal, this isn't his body, it's his soul, and in a way that makes it worse and better all at once. He can feel it, every aspect of that memory. The thoughts and words woven into each second that passed, each argument exchanged. As if one argument was a hundred they'd had before, the heaviness of those emotions flowed through him. He can feel them. He can-]

I felt it, [he whispers, trembling a little.] Every thought. "Worthless. Waste of time. Precious. Loved." They were fighting, but they both wanted the best for the other, I... [He closes his eyes again, breathing deep, in and out, until enough seconds pass that his heart settles and he can look at her, a quiet wonder in his eyes.] I could feel... my father. The memories connected, in the crystal. Dad always- he wanted- he felt this, too. [His voice drops back to a whisper.] Irreplaceable.

[Is this why he was pulled to this memory? Is that what he's meant to understand?]

Oh, Noct...

[ She listens to him, she holds him, one arm over his shoulders, giving him a small nudge to lean against her shoulder. How unfair it is that whenever he's physically hurt, she can feel it, but with this she cannot. All she can do is empathize... and keep him in her arms. ]

Because you are. [ Irreplaceable. What that king felt for his son, what Regis feels for Noctis, what Pyra herself feels for him, too-- ] That's what you call unconditional love.

[ Her voice is gentler, and she strokes her fingers through his hair in a way she hopes is soothing, repetitive. ] Regardless of what you do, what kingship or magic power you have or even the prophecy. [ Succeeding, failing, or whatever either of those definitions may mean in his mind, it doesn't matter. He could be the best king or the worst! He could fulfill his world's prophecy, or not! And he'd be loved. She'd still love him, and there's no changing that truth.

She smiles against the side of his head, placing a kiss into his hair. ] Irreplacable.

[He leans against her readily, listening to her words and the soothing nature of her presence. He sits like that in silence as he gathers his thoughts, his arm curling around her back to hold her in return, endlessly grateful for her company and tilting his head into her gentle touch. He's not sure he could have done this without her, and he's so glad he doesn't have to know.

At some point the bedroom fades from sight, taking with it the father and son, leaving them on a stone fragment in the blue starscape sea. It's only then that he finds his voice again.]

Those feelings... there are countless people across all of Eos' history that must have felt like that. Worrying they weren't enough... worrying about their children. Each and every one of those souls are irreplaceable. They lived, and they died... they felt all kinds of things. I... think I'm starting to understand.

[He's not confident with it yet; he's still figuring it out. This moment has set some of the pieces into place, bringing back memories of what he must have felt inside the Crystal. Approaching it is terrifying still, but... it's less scary than before, and as long as he's not alone, he'll follow where it leads.]

....Oh? [ She asks, drawing back just enough to look at him. Her expression is open, but encouraging him to voice his thoughts, if only it'd help him work through this. As for herself, Pyra doesn't quite follow. The clarity he's receiving from these memories and the feelings he feels through them, she doesn't comprehend.

She shakes her head, attempting to think of a better way to help him. She can't just ask what is it that you're beginning to understand, when he doesn't know the answer yet himself. ]

Or... would another memory help?

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[ Pyra ♢ Mythra ♢ Pneuma
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