[ 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?]
[ 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. ]
[He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, closes it again.]
Maybe. I'm... not sure. But this feels too important to guess and be wrong, so... I want to try again.
[It isn't like him; he's too prone to rushing in, taking things at face value more often than not, accepting what he's been told without looking deeper. Strategy and analysis are what people like Ignis are good at. But the truth is, no one can do this for him. No one else spoke with Bahamut, no one else was given these memories. Pyra can safeguard them, help him access them, but the responsibility - of the memories, of the world, and of what he's meant to do with both - is on his shoulders.
Decision made, and instinctively recognizing that this place can offer them nothing more, he slides off the edge of the platform and back into the plane of wandering stars, offering his hand out to help her down so they can walk together again.]
[ Taking his hand, she moves off the edge they had been seated on to 'stand' within the gossamer matrix of his mindscape. In what fragmented set of memories they may find themselves in next, she cannot even begin to guess, but she keeps her attention on a star here, a star there, or a cloud of blue-green stardust in the distance. ]
...It really is beautiful. [ She comments. Her voice remains just above a whisper, as if anything louder may disturb the aurora of the realm. ]
Like nebulae.
[ Whether that nebulae is of dust just before stars form or of the dust that remains when stars die-- that, she cannot tell. Perhaps that is what this realm is meant to represent in some way, if the crystal of his realm is that grand and powerful: both the beginning and the end, something ancient and new. ]
[He glances around, trying to spot another fragment that might stand out in the same way as the one before. A few have appeared on the horizon, beginning to form, so he focuses on that direction and watches for a sign.]
Yeah... Bahamut called it the Heart of the Crystal, the soul of the star. I remember thinking it was super familiar from inside the armiger- it's the same scenery. I wonder if it's actually just the same space, since the power comes from the crystal. Or if it's, like... copied over into our soul or whatever. Maybe like separate rooms in the same house? [He tilts his head thoughtfully.] That'd make sense, since mine and Dad's or Ardyn's don't connect.
[ The soul of the star, her lips repeat, soundlessly, as she takes in their surroundings. This soul of his world is now a part of his-- or something like it, in which he's absorbed all of it. In its vastness, it wouldn't be difficult to wonder why how he could lose his sense of self to it. ]
Maybe... [ It's different how her crystal and her brothers' are, for they are all connected, and they can enter each other's as they will, even if there is some unspoken agreement that they each have a space that is theirs. ]
Even though they are connected to this crystal in some way, erm, in a way I imagine is them reaching to its power... they've never had the crystal itself imposing something on them. As it happened with you.
[He can't help his tired mumble, but it's far less bitter than it would have been a few years ago, when the wounds were still fresh. He and Ardyn have had many a conversation about being the opposing sides of the gods' war, the weight that accompanies such a title. One driven away from the Crystal's light, the other meant to subsume it entirely. He knows he's not meant to lose himself in it - and will at least still be himself until the end, back home - but he wishes it was more of a comfort to know that his link to their Crystal is more unique than most of their family.
On the flipside, he never had to endure centuries in some empty island prison, or inside a magic ring, so there are some perks attached with being the last of his line. It means a lot less waiting around for the inevitable.]
Kinda makes me wonder how long it's really been since I got dragged into the Crystal. It felt like no time at all, but if I've already absorbed so much of the star's memories, maybe it's been years and I don't even know it.
[ Once more, she looks at his profile as they wander in the realm of his starry soul. ]
Maybe. [ She can agree on the possibility, for all she can offer is speculation through what he's told her and what she already knows. And she knows that there is at least one visually "older" appearance of himself-- a few more creases by his eyes, perhaps, along with a weariness that hadn't been there before, along with some stubble on his chin.
He shows none of those changes. Either the crystal has kept him youthful in its realm, or it hasn't been that long. The latter is more troubling to think about: if it hasn't been too long for him in his crystal, it means he has so much longer and more to endure. ] I'd imagine that it would take the human mind years to process all of the memories of your world. It's so much, but.
[ Now she's a little closer as if inspecting his features. Nope-- there's not an extra crinkle in sight. ]
Not... really. Though I don't know if I'd even be able to tell. If the crystal's magic, and being inside the crystal is like being in the armiger, would I even have my real body until it tossed me out?
[He's never put a living, breathing thing in the armory. Food's gone bad after he pulled it out again, but is that because it rotted within the void or because time caught up with it once it was no longer converted into energy? It's a jarring thing to consider. It's not like he could eat there for ten years. Had he been hungry when he woke up here after regaining his memories? Would he be hungry back home?
Gods, it's such an inconsequential thing to worry about, comparatively, but the unknown of it all might drive him crazy.]
You're right about that. The forms we have here aren't exactly physical-- not literally. [ She wishes she could reassure him, but as far as she knows, the memories this crystal contains are only memories of the past, not visions of the future...
But she can turn to face him, bringing her free hand up to his cheek. ] But physical or not, older or not...
You're still you.
[ It's a call back to when she had first said something like this when his appearance had shifted to be ten year older. ]
[That gives him pause again, gazing quietly at her as those words sink in, until his shoulders slump and he leans in, bumping his forehead against hers. Just like always, she pulls him back to what's important. He's focusing on the wrong things, stressing about what shouldn't be the big issue. Right... physically, it doesn't matter. As long as he's still himself, that's enough. She'd said it before, but it means more now. He's in a better place to hear it and accept it than he was back then.]
I'm still me. [He breathes deep, then smiles faintly at her.] You're the best, you know that? You never falter.
[ That this causes him stress, that the ominous, overwhelming power and mystery of the crystal is no small source of anxiety for him is no secret. However, Noctis had said he wanted to do this, so what more can she do but show him support? The questions and worry he had been speaking of before-- of years passing by, of not being truly himself, of there being a purpose to receiving these memories-- she both wants him to voice them, to also feel comfortable in exploring them, as well. Fear can be navigated, but doing so takes patience and support. He had taught her that.
Her hand slides from his cheek, and the other still in his hand gives it a squeeze. ]
I've learned from the best. [ She smiles. And in case it isn't obvious: ] That's you, you know.
Okay, we're both the best. Mutual amazingness. I don't know how anyone stands us.
[Two people shouldn't be allowed to be so awesome and in such close proximity. ...Or is it four, now? Whatever, life is complicated enough as it is.
He gives her hand a light tug, quietly bracing himself for what comes next, but his steps are more sure now that she's coaxed some encouragment back into him. Like an energy drink, getting some of that adrenaline pumping with curiosity instead of dread. Or at least enough curiosity to accompany the dread, so he's not drowning in it. They approach the next stretch of stone, as the first signs of whatever awaits them begins to flicker into existence: no longer the Citadel, this vision appears more natural, bits of greenery emerging from the darkness.]
[ There it is, that quiet laugh. In the lonely expanse that is this "soul of the star", it's such a warm sound.
With approaching the next scape of memory, she keeps her hand in his. ] All of your family was blessed by this crystal, weren't they? But only you are allowed the memories of the world within it.
...Perhaps-- only you could do it, and the crystal was waiting for someone as strong as you this entire time.
I mean, that's the nice way of looking at it. The alternative is either Bahamut was waiting for somebody who looked like Somnus for the irony of it, or 114 is a super-unlucky number and that's just how many kings it took to accumulate enough power.
[The latter options probably are more likely - both vengefully thematic and a clinical, strength-based sort of logic that the gods appreciated more than sentiment - but they're not his favourite options. He'd love it to be her version.]
I shouldn't complain, either way. It's probably better than being just one more cog in the machine, or being stuck in the ring, or... I dunno. Handing this fate off to my kid, if I had one.
[If he were ever a dad, he'd want to be as good if not better than his own. That meant not letting them feel neglected or unloved- and certainly not going "actually, how about you be the one to die for the world instead". He's sure that if Regis had the choice to take his place and let his son be spared, he'd have done it. Noctis would do the same for his own child, if one had been allowed to exist.]
[ She can't exactly argue against any of his points, even if she'd like to insist that he's special and strong, and so she only nods. It was a poor thing to bring up. A crystal waiting for someone strong enough? Essentially she's calling the rest of his ancestors weak when they all (most likely) struggled and died for this same fate. ] Ah... You're right. I'm sorry, that was tactless to say.
Regis-- he was strong, too. Is strong. I'm sure he would have tried the same thing you're doing with these memories of the crystal, just as you're doing now, if it meant... [ Saving his son, she almost says, but stops herself. Even when speaking hypothetically, it seems in poor taste to bring up that Noctis will not have a child, either. ] If it meant helping the world.
[He leans in, bumping against her shoulder affectionately and squeezing her hand. He wasn't offended by her comment, recognizing it was meant as encouragement. It's not her fault their family history is so grim.]
You're right. I know he tried to find a way to save me... we talked about it a little, after he woke up. [After he remembered.] Is it weird that it... kinda made me feel better, even though he didn't find an answer? He tried to fight against fate, just for my sake. Could've risked the world.
[He knew his father loved him. Of course he did. And he didn't begrudge Regis for being forced to give up on that search, when the war stole too much of his time and he had to think like a king more than a father. It just... warmed his heart so much, knowing he was so loved.
"Irreplaceable." It rang all the more true, knowing what he knew now.]
[ Her smile is bittersweet, though. Pyra, like Noctis, will never know what it is like to have children. She can only imagine how terribly devastating the news that one's son will die would be-- worse, still, to be unable to find a way to save them or to focus more on the kingdom (or world) over that son.
But the fighting-for part? The shielding them so they know as little suffering or pain as possible? Or even dying for someone one loves, to save them-- that, she can understand. ]
That's unconditional love again, Noct. Of course he'd fight for you, for as long as he could have.
I guess we're all kind of alike in that way, in this family. [He smiles softly at her, a little sad, but surprisingly at ease with his words, too. He's seen it enough time to recognize it- in himself, in others. Maybe he doesn't have to like it, but he can acknowledge the love and sacrifice in this truth.] I'd fight for him, for you, for the guys. For anyone in my family. And I know you'd all fight for me too.
[They would, and they have. He has to acknowledge their sacrifice. That's part of reflection too, isn't it? "Many sacrificed all for the king, so much the king sacrifice himself for all." But Bahamut didn't have to tell him that one. He'd done it before- taken the hit for them, as they'd done so for him. This was just... a different kind of hit to take.
That thought resonates with him strangely, a flicker of deja vu. What's so familiar about that train of thought...?]
The world is worth fighting for, too, is something she doesn't have to say. They both know the sacrifice that's ahead of him, of what he'll have to give to protect others, in the same manner others would give to protect him if the roles were reversed. She's going to do the same thing in her world, because she loves her world and the people within it. Even still, it does warm her own "heart" that he's said, once again, that he'd fight for her.
...But she noticed how his expression becomes quieter. ] ...Noct?
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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.
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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.]
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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. ]
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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?]
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[ 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.
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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.]
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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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Maybe. I'm... not sure. But this feels too important to guess and be wrong, so... I want to try again.
[It isn't like him; he's too prone to rushing in, taking things at face value more often than not, accepting what he's been told without looking deeper. Strategy and analysis are what people like Ignis are good at. But the truth is, no one can do this for him. No one else spoke with Bahamut, no one else was given these memories. Pyra can safeguard them, help him access them, but the responsibility - of the memories, of the world, and of what he's meant to do with both - is on his shoulders.
Decision made, and instinctively recognizing that this place can offer them nothing more, he slides off the edge of the platform and back into the plane of wandering stars, offering his hand out to help her down so they can walk together again.]
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...It really is beautiful. [ She comments. Her voice remains just above a whisper, as if anything louder may disturb the aurora of the realm. ]
Like nebulae.
[ Whether that nebulae is of dust just before stars form or of the dust that remains when stars die-- that, she cannot tell. Perhaps that is what this realm is meant to represent in some way, if the crystal of his realm is that grand and powerful: both the beginning and the end, something ancient and new. ]
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Yeah... Bahamut called it the Heart of the Crystal, the soul of the star. I remember thinking it was super familiar from inside the armiger- it's the same scenery. I wonder if it's actually just the same space, since the power comes from the crystal. Or if it's, like... copied over into our soul or whatever. Maybe like separate rooms in the same house? [He tilts his head thoughtfully.] That'd make sense, since mine and Dad's or Ardyn's don't connect.
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Maybe... [ It's different how her crystal and her brothers' are, for they are all connected, and they can enter each other's as they will, even if there is some unspoken agreement that they each have a space that is theirs. ]
Even though they are connected to this crystal in some way, erm, in a way I imagine is them reaching to its power... they've never had the crystal itself imposing something on them. As it happened with you.
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[He can't help his tired mumble, but it's far less bitter than it would have been a few years ago, when the wounds were still fresh. He and Ardyn have had many a conversation about being the opposing sides of the gods' war, the weight that accompanies such a title. One driven away from the Crystal's light, the other meant to subsume it entirely. He knows he's not meant to lose himself in it - and will at least still be himself until the end, back home - but he wishes it was more of a comfort to know that his link to their Crystal is more unique than most of their family.
On the flipside, he never had to endure centuries in some empty island prison, or inside a magic ring, so there are some perks attached with being the last of his line. It means a lot less waiting around for the inevitable.]
Kinda makes me wonder how long it's really been since I got dragged into the Crystal. It felt like no time at all, but if I've already absorbed so much of the star's memories, maybe it's been years and I don't even know it.
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Maybe. [ She can agree on the possibility, for all she can offer is speculation through what he's told her and what she already knows. And she knows that there is at least one visually "older" appearance of himself-- a few more creases by his eyes, perhaps, along with a weariness that hadn't been there before, along with some stubble on his chin.
He shows none of those changes. Either the crystal has kept him youthful in its realm, or it hasn't been that long. The latter is more troubling to think about: if it hasn't been too long for him in his crystal, it means he has so much longer and more to endure. ] I'd imagine that it would take the human mind years to process all of the memories of your world. It's so much, but.
[ Now she's a little closer as if inspecting his features. Nope-- there's not an extra crinkle in sight. ]
Do you feel older?
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[He's never put a living, breathing thing in the armory. Food's gone bad after he pulled it out again, but is that because it rotted within the void or because time caught up with it once it was no longer converted into energy? It's a jarring thing to consider. It's not like he could eat there for ten years. Had he been hungry when he woke up here after regaining his memories? Would he be hungry back home?
Gods, it's such an inconsequential thing to worry about, comparatively, but the unknown of it all might drive him crazy.]
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But she can turn to face him, bringing her free hand up to his cheek. ] But physical or not, older or not...
You're still you.
[ It's a call back to when she had first said something like this when his appearance had shifted to be ten year older. ]
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I'm still me. [He breathes deep, then smiles faintly at her.] You're the best, you know that? You never falter.
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Her hand slides from his cheek, and the other still in his hand gives it a squeeze. ]
I've learned from the best. [ She smiles. And in case it isn't obvious: ] That's you, you know.
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Okay, we're both the best. Mutual amazingness. I don't know how anyone stands us.
[Two people shouldn't be allowed to be so awesome and in such close proximity. ...Or is it four, now? Whatever, life is complicated enough as it is.
He gives her hand a light tug, quietly bracing himself for what comes next, but his steps are more sure now that she's coaxed some encouragment back into him. Like an energy drink, getting some of that adrenaline pumping with curiosity instead of dread. Or at least enough curiosity to accompany the dread, so he's not drowning in it. They approach the next stretch of stone, as the first signs of whatever awaits them begins to flicker into existence: no longer the Citadel, this vision appears more natural, bits of greenery emerging from the darkness.]
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With approaching the next scape of memory, she keeps her hand in his. ] All of your family was blessed by this crystal, weren't they? But only you are allowed the memories of the world within it.
...Perhaps-- only you could do it, and the crystal was waiting for someone as strong as you this entire time.
[ ....Or maybe she's projecting a bit (a lot). ]
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[The latter options probably are more likely - both vengefully thematic and a clinical, strength-based sort of logic that the gods appreciated more than sentiment - but they're not his favourite options. He'd love it to be her version.]
I shouldn't complain, either way. It's probably better than being just one more cog in the machine, or being stuck in the ring, or... I dunno. Handing this fate off to my kid, if I had one.
[If he were ever a dad, he'd want to be as good if not better than his own. That meant not letting them feel neglected or unloved- and certainly not going "actually, how about you be the one to die for the world instead". He's sure that if Regis had the choice to take his place and let his son be spared, he'd have done it. Noctis would do the same for his own child, if one had been allowed to exist.]
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Regis-- he was strong, too. Is strong. I'm sure he would have tried the same thing you're doing with these memories of the crystal, just as you're doing now, if it meant... [ Saving his son, she almost says, but stops herself. Even when speaking hypothetically, it seems in poor taste to bring up that Noctis will not have a child, either. ] If it meant helping the world.
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You're right. I know he tried to find a way to save me... we talked about it a little, after he woke up. [After he remembered.] Is it weird that it... kinda made me feel better, even though he didn't find an answer? He tried to fight against fate, just for my sake. Could've risked the world.
[He knew his father loved him. Of course he did. And he didn't begrudge Regis for being forced to give up on that search, when the war stole too much of his time and he had to think like a king more than a father. It just... warmed his heart so much, knowing he was so loved.
"Irreplaceable." It rang all the more true, knowing what he knew now.]
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[ Her smile is bittersweet, though. Pyra, like Noctis, will never know what it is like to have children. She can only imagine how terribly devastating the news that one's son will die would be-- worse, still, to be unable to find a way to save them or to focus more on the kingdom (or world) over that son.
But the fighting-for part? The shielding them so they know as little suffering or pain as possible? Or even dying for someone one loves, to save them-- that, she can understand. ]
That's unconditional love again, Noct. Of course he'd fight for you, for as long as he could have.
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[They would, and they have. He has to acknowledge their sacrifice. That's part of reflection too, isn't it? "Many sacrificed all for the king, so much the king sacrifice himself for all." But Bahamut didn't have to tell him that one. He'd done it before- taken the hit for them, as they'd done so for him. This was just... a different kind of hit to take.
That thought resonates with him strangely, a flicker of deja vu. What's so familiar about that train of thought...?]
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[ She affirms, giving his hand another squeeze.
The world is worth fighting for, too, is something she doesn't have to say. They both know the sacrifice that's ahead of him, of what he'll have to give to protect others, in the same manner others would give to protect him if the roles were reversed. She's going to do the same thing in her world, because she loves her world and the people within it. Even still, it does warm her own "heart" that he's said, once again, that he'd fight for her.
...But she noticed how his expression becomes quieter. ] ...Noct?
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