[ Photos and doodles-- of course he would send those, and he could have probably sent her more, if his life hadn't been so busy and hectic. It also may have been safer if he didn't write much to Lunafreya, given their statuses and positions in their world's war between his kingdom and the empire. (Then again, she's not sure if it's even possible to intercept Messengers...)
This does make her wonder about the woman she had only a brief chance with whom to interact in Havenwell. ]
She... wasn't lonely, was she? If she had you with whom to correspond.
That... I don't think I could answer for her. I hope she wasn't. I hope I helped.
[He brushes a hand against his chest, wondering if some of the tightness he feels there is because of her- because the words ring true due to the memories, thoughts, and feelings from the crystal being fed into him, or if it's just wishful thinking. If he made Luna's life even a little bit more bearable, the way she did for him, he'd feel a lot better even about their long separation. Not about failing her, of course. He'd always regret that. But to know he helped... that means a lot.]
[ Pyra, too, would like to believe that he helped-- as she's already stated, but ultimately, she cannot answer for the oracle, either.
So when she sees Noctis' hand go to his chest, she encourages him, wondering if something is resonating with this fragmented set of a memory. ] ...What are you feeling?
[He's unsure for a long moment, trying to let his mind sort out the scrambled thoughts rushing through it, feeling such mixed emotions. As they settle, he does the same as before: pulls himself up onto the stone fragment, helping her up to join him. Once they're standing in the dusty old ruins, he takes a few steps into it rather than staying outside of the memory, and rests a hand against the stone of one of the statues.
In that moment, he feels it with such astonishing intensity that his breath catches.]
It's... conflicting. They were so lonely here, tired and sore all the time. The training was hard. And- they were hungry, too. [His lips quirk a little. A series of featureless phantoms appear in the ruins, one after another, silhouettes in white working through a variety of combat forms, meditating, exploring the ruins.] But they were happy too. Some of them loved the work, to be needed, to help people... they were healers, handpicked by the gods. They sang and danced, they traveled the world. They weren't free to do whatever they wanted, but...
[His hand drops, turning to watch the silhouettes move. When they stumbled and fell, they pushed themselves back to their feet and kept working, over and over. Elegant and poised, graceful, the picture of strength. But some cried, pleading for relief before forging ahead with renewed strength. They were human, like any other; they felt grief and frustration in their darker moments, and still they shined.]
It was their duty, and they never shied away from it. They were... proud, but not arrogant. [His breath hitches a little once more, overwhelmed, as he catches himself.] They loved the world so much...
[ The way he praises them- for loving the world, for being helpers, for fulfilling their duty-- is at odds with how he delivers that praise. He is solemn, morose, and the tone is incongruent with the words that celebrate the oracles of the past. What makes it so off?
...Perhaps, because they are like him. He helps others, he does his duty, he loves the world. And if they are (were) like him, then they were rarely if ever told to focus on themselves, that it is okay to express their pain or hardships. ]
It sounds as if they gave all they could to others. [ She begins, slowly, at first thinking that she could leave it at that. ]
That's inspiring, in a way. But also.... sad. What did they have left to give themselves?
[His fingers curl at that, twining together with hers. His voice is quiet when he responds.]
Nothing... that's what makes it so hard. They had to give and give until there was nothing left. It's what the god wants. It's what the world needs. It's why Luna... it's why I...
[He trails off at that, watching another shadow of an Oracle struggle, dropping to their knees, clutching something close to their chest. Long hair billows in an unseen wind, and when they fall, this time, they do not get up again. He recognizes the moment for what it is, even with the details missing, even though he'd been unconscious at the time. The memory is complete now, because the world itself had witnessed the fall of its last Oracle. Luna had held him that day, protecting him, until she died.
He watches the figure - no, the body - for a long moment, and his hand tightens as the final pieces slide into place, like the world's most unpleasant and unbreakable finger trap. His hands are tied now, and there's no going back. The soul of the star resonates with his own and he knows its intent, desperate and unwielding.]
I... get it. I know why they did this to me.
[And he can truly think of it that way now, can't he? Whoever "they" might be, ultimately. Bahamut, the rest of the Six, the Crystal itself. This wasn't a gift bestowed onto him, that it might help him later. There's no mystery to be solved on what he should use this information for. Like a chain around his neck, dragging him towards the gallows, a forced burden that took away even the illusion of choice. It's guilt.
He has no idea how he's meant to feel about this, but what he does feel is pretty wretched.]
[ Pyra watches as the silhouette falls on the ground, never rising again, and her hand twitches in Noctis’ as if she has an instinct to go to help the figure, but knows she cannot. What this memory shows is the past, facts that cannot be undone. The figure is lifeless in this memory.
Then Noctis speaks, breaking her from her thoughts. Pyra’s attention shifts from the memory to Noctis, watching his expression as if she might gleam the same realization to which he’s coming.
But she can’t. If there is a purpose to seeing— and feeling, experiencing these memories, surely it is because there some mystery, knowledge, or key information he must find within them, something that can help him save his world…. ]
[He wants to answer properly, truly he does. She deserves it for helping him through this, allowing him to drag her through one strange memory to another, enduring his confused journey and vague responses as he tries to sort through the sea of information of which he's still barely glossed the surface. But it's so... depressing. Trying to find the words for it in a way that doesn't make it sound miserable is making his head hurt and his heart ache.
Failing that, he shifts closer and wraps his arms around her, drawing her in for a tight embrace, needing her warmth in this moment and, without shame or self-restraint, asking for the comfort she always offers so freely. This sucks. This sucks so much, and that's putting it very lightly. Did he need this realization? Maybe. Maybe he shouldn't have chased it. To know that... all this time, everything he did, everything he already lost and sacrificed... they never believed in him. They thought he needed this, too.
Or maybe he did need it, and he'd just been fooling himself all this time, thinking he was selfless enough to accept his fate without these subconscious thoughts around to bury his resistance. How would he ever know?]
It was... so I wouldn't run. So I wouldn't refuse. [He makes himself say it at last, and every word is a battle. He hates it, hates admitting it.] I wanted to fight it in the Crystal. I remember- I wanted to refuse. Aren't I alive, too? Don't I deserve a chance to live? [It's not fair. I won't do it. I refuse to do it. Isn't there another way? And then those memories came, and he could think of little else.] I didn't want to die. But I saw everyone on Eos... all of their lives. Everyone who died, who still lived. That's the price of my refusing.
[All of them will vanish. His arms tighten around her, and he buries his face, voice muffled.]
I wasn't strong enough. The crystal could tell, so it... made sure I wouldn't back down. They couldn't leave it to chance...
[ When he turns to hold her, her arms welcome him, one going to his shoulder and the other to the back of his head. Long fingers sift through the locks of his dark hair, her thumb drawing circles into his scalp in a way she hopes soothes him. She keeps him in his embrace, like this, allowing him the time to develop his answer...
...And what an answer it is.
Aren't I alive, too? Don't I deserve a chance to live?
But I saw everyone on Eos... all of their lives. Everyone who died, who still lived. That's the price of my refusing.
I wasn't strong enough. The crystal could tell, so it... made sure I wouldn't back down.
There is not mysterious 'answer' he must find within these memories, no key to finding another part of the prophecy which he must fulfill. The memories by which he is overwhelmed are meant to do just that: overwhelm and oppress, to bring him down by guilt. ] As if.... [ Her voice trembles, and she stops herself to breathe-- something she needn't do, but somehow she finds herself doing so, because she needs to pause. To collect herself. Why does she need to collect herself? A quick reflection into this strange, new feeling answers her: because she's insulted on his behalf, because she's in disbelief, because it isn't fair to him. She realizes then that the tremble in her voice hadn't been due to sorrow, but a kind of anger. ] As if your selflessness wasn't enough?!
[ Because the gods or his crystal didn't trust him, so they needed more insurance that the way to save their world would come to pass. She can understand that-- she could even see herself doing something similar, not trusting someone on a subject in order to save her world. She can understand that the world is that important. But every time she steps back to analyze such a justification from her position in her world, she's brought back to here, to the man in her arms, to the individual that suffers because of it, to the trust between man and god or crystal that is now broken-- and all the repercussions and suffering that brings. Because... the gods could not do better. They may have a plan to save their world, but they failed him in this.
(And, Architect, if she is to be like that in her world-- to be some sort of deity that doesn't trust those who she wishes to save, if it means it simply causes them more suffering-- suffering like how she sees Noctis suffer-- or if it means that those she claims to love and want to protect are hurt because of her....
Suddenly, desperately, she wants to do better than that, because she sees now such pain can never be justified, not to those she loves.)
Pyra gives his shoulder a small squeeze, the only warning he'll receive before she brings him into a proper embrace, her arms around his back, careful as always with his scars, to bring him to her more tightly. ] Noct...
[ Her head remains alongside his. ] I-- I understand, wanting to save one's world. But they were wrong to do this. You don't deserve this treatment.
[Her quiet outrage is a kindness and a comfort, strangely. A part of him feels like he's not allowed to get angry at this, after living such a priviledged life, demonstrating time and again how spoiled and sheltered he was, giving those around him such grief. Everyone had cause to complain about his behaviour, everyone struggled with caring for him, keeping him alive. After all that he put them through, the least he can do is die for them, surely.
"Witness his splendor and glory. All hail the Chosen King."
"Pull your head out of your ass already!"
"Those who died for you—do you ever wonder what went through their minds?"
"Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all."
Of course, of course. It's only fair. It's less than fair. His life is not worth more than- no, it's worth less than-
Her last words draw him out of the flurry of thoughts that swirl together with the memories in his mind, though he struggles to stop himself from focusing on them, when before he'd tried to draw them in, coax them to reveal themselves. Now he wants them to stop, but they're pushing back, their purpose finally brought to light. He needs to get out of here. To leave this world, to go home, fulfill his duty for Eos and its people.
...But.
Wrong, she says.
You don't deserve this, she says.
He shudders, clinging to her, and quietly wills her voice to override what's trying to drown his resistance.]
Why don't I? [he manages weakly.] I wanted to fight, I wanted to run away. I remember it now. It wasn't fair. I thought about what I'd lose, I was scared... that's not selfless. How could I not deserve a reminder of everything we'd lost? Everything we'd lose?
[Just him. If it was just him, it would be okay. The world would carry on. Choose, the crystal resonated within him, demanding his deference, and with those memories weighing on him, he had no choice at all. The fact that he'd even considered it to be a choice was proof that he deserved this.]
[ His questions only serve to flame the simmering upset within her, none of it at all directed at him.
He calls himself weak, but she's never seen him weak. He says he's wanted to run away, to live, as if anyone wanting to live is such a selfish request even in the face of self-sacrifice. When has he ever run away, anyway?! Perhaps put off some unpleasant conversations, but he's always done what others have asked of him, what was necessary. He's always fought for others. He's questioning his value, and if the goal of having these memories is to crush him utterly, then she's watching it happen in real time.
(Had exploring this part of his soul been a mistake?)
She refuses to let these memories 'win' in that sort of way. ] Noct.... Listen, please, listen.
[ She pulls away from him, her hand withdrawing from his shoulder to go to his cheek, cupping and supporting his face so that he may look at her. ]
I know you-- and I adore your want to fight and protect others... but at the same time [ Her voice wavers, and she looks at him helplessly. ] am so, so frightened of it, too, because you always put others above yourself.
[ It's the same sort of love she has for her own world and the people in it. Of course she wants to live, too, to be with those she loves. Of course that same love drives her to protect them, and to sacrifice herself for it.
He wouldn't run away, because as much as he loves his friends, as much as he'd want to be with them-- she knows for certain that he would not want to see them suffer. The gods and crystal may have read his wants, but they completely misunderstood his love and want to protect others, and in their fear that their Chosen would not obey, they hurt him further. ]
You don't deserve this-- because they don't know how much you love your friends, your family, how much you would do for them, no matter what cost. They underestimated you, and...
Your gods, your crystal... They really don't know, do they? [ A short, breathless and wry half-laugh escapes her in disbelief. This is a lesson that he had taught her, too. As it turns out, gods and immortals anywhere can stand to learn something from him. ]
You are not selfish for wanting to live, for wanting to be with those you love.
[She asks, and he listens. She challenges his doubts, and he listens. Her words strike a chord, and he knows that on some level she must be right- he'd committed to sacrificing himself before his mind started to become overwhelmed by these memories, before he knew what Bahamut and the crystal had done to him to ensure he wouldn't turn away from it. He'd fought back when Cor had wanted him to find another way. He'd made that decision already. On the other hand, he hadn't remembered the truth of his own thoughts in the crystal itself until now, that he'd doubted, resisted in much the same way. Is it really that they didn't know? Or had they read deeper into his soul - the soul that had connected with theirs, been granted their power, been chosen by them as the last and saviour king - and known he needed an extra push?
He wants to believe her. He tries to. But as those overwhelming memories swirl deeper through his subconscious, grinding up against the forefront of his mind and vying for more of his attention than the woman before him, his eyes grow clouded, and he bows his head. He can't think... he can't focus. It feels like before, when the memories broke through his mental wall and nearly killed him. The ache of warning is there, and while she's protecting him from being truly overwhelmed in the same way, this close proximity is drawing them to him like a nest of hornets. She tells him he doesn't deserve this, and he thinks about a girl in Gralea who didn't deserve to be devoured when her mother turned into a daemon. She tells him he loves his family, and he thinks of a man coming home to his family in Lestallum with a grim diagnosis, who won't live through the starscourge now plaguing him because their useless king got the last Oracle killed. She tells him he's not selfish for wanting to live, and he thinks about a woman begging for her life as magitek troopers tear through her home with guns and blades, searching for the Crownsguard she'd sheltered. He feels their pain, their grief, their fear, and his own must pale before theirs, because there's so much. There's so much. Thousands of years, too much.
He takes a slow, shuddering breath, and his gaze drifts to the side as the ruins of Ralmuell crumble and disappear around them, leaving them once more alone in the void, only the echo of thousands of voices whispering around him. Our star. Our world. Our future. The blood price must be paid.
Enter into reflection.
He closes his eyes, then, and leans in to brush his head against hers, wishing for all the world that her voice would drown all the others out. This is reflection. Ten years of wandering through the thoughts and memories of their star and feeling the weight of every person who lived, so when the time came to make his choice, there'd be no choice at all. This... is an understanding he'd needed to come to, that much is true. But he's not ready to face it yet.]
Can... we go? Get out of here? I don't want to be here anymore.
[ In his silence, she worries for him, wondering what else might be going through his mind, if all of what she's said is being drowned out or negated by the power of his Crystal and the hold it has over him. A part of her crystal may be literally embedded into him, but that doesn't override how inherently intertwined he is with his own, the history they have together, and the future of the world they wish to save.
Then he takes that shuddering breath and leans forward, putting his forehead to hers once more, and begs for respite from the torture through which he's been put.
Her expression falls, and she draws a quick, frightened breath. Had they made a mistake, coming here?
Is this the crystal winning against him, or is this the crystal imposing its will onto him, to have him retreat? Is he truly not strong enough to endure, or is it simply a belief imposed on him that he's weak, that he can't--
Can we go?
Whatever the reason, she sees the misery and defeat clearly written upon his face. That's cause enough for them to leave, to stop his suffering. ]
Okay.... [ She replies, bringing her hand to his cheek. ] Okay.
[ They have an answer to why he has these memories, at least, as terrible as it is. Going forward from here-- she's not sure where it may lead; she hopes the damage's been done by the immense guilt that has been imposed onto his heart, the guilt of living, the guilt of surviving while others have not, will ease when he wakes. It is a strong force with which to contend, and for once, Pyra is unsure if she has an answer to the struggle when she had to contend with such guilt herself. What she is certain about is that he's been done wrong by the gods, that this turmoil is not what he deserves, and that she'll insist on that as many times as necessary.
They return to reality, awakening on their bed and resting side by side. Pyra pulls herself back from him, searching his expression before she leans in and kisses the top of his forehead, lingering there. ] You're still wonderful, you know that.
[The relief that comes to him when they're back to reality is almost immediate; his body language shifts, shoulders losing an immense amount of tension, clarity returning to his eyes, the furrow in his brow easing out. He closes his eyes for a long moment as she kisses him, and when he opens them again with a shudder, he's back, and the painful buzzing in his head is fading away. He feels... very much like himself again, whereas he'd begun to lose fragments in there. Or- maybe not fragments. Maybe he'd only gotten lost in the sea of memories, forgetting where he ended and the rest of the world began. Their thoughts became his thoughts and vice-versa. The buzz of them had started out so quietly, but as they'd prolonged their exploration, the louder they'd become. He reached out to them and they came so readily, too much and too fast. He hadn't known how to control the flow of it, or maybe there was no way to do so at all. He's not sure, and it's yet another mystery unsolved.
Here again, though, all he can hear is her voice and the pounding of his heart, the sound of his own breath as he exhales, inhales, and regains control of his body, fights to relax. He's... here. He's himself. He's okay.]
I'm okay, [he manages out loud, his voice tremulous at first, so he swallows and tries again, stronger this time.] I'm okay. [He's wonderful. Is he? It's easier to believe her now. There's no extra voice - voices - whispering that he isn't so wonderful that he's allowed to keep living. That's nice.] I- ...I think that place... gets kinda intense, the longer I'm there.
[ She rolls on her side, moving close to cuddle against him. If only she could embrace each and every single one of those trembles out of him, to be whatever strength he needs in this moment until he can lift his head high again. ]
I'm glad you asked to stop.
[ Moments ago, she had thought that maybe he could have endured, that it had been the crystal that was making him believe he could not. Seeing how far more at ease he is while awake causes her to doubt that very same thought. If there is a means to last longer within that realm of the crystal's memories, he isn't going to know on his first try. And at the moment, she's too frightened of what irreparable harm the crystal may do to him to wonder further. ]
It was like watching those memories eat away at your will, right then and there. [ --And that's just it, she had only watched. She hadn't experienced those memories as he had. ] We... don't have to go back in there, if you don't want.
[He shifts with her to press up close, winding his arms around her and cuddling in. While he may not feel so lost anymore, her presence is an anchor, and he wants to hold onto that security for a while until he's steady again. He suspects it'll be good for her, too; that can't have been pleasant to watch, any more than it was to experience firsthand. A hug is the least he can do for worrying her yet again.]
Yeah... [He can't really deny it. That is what was happening, wasn't it? He hadn't been given much of a chance to push back against them. Any time he tried, they pushed back infinitely harder, and he'd been vastly outnumbered.] I'll... have to think about it. What I want to do. I mean- it started out okay, didn't it? It was almost a good thing. I just couldn't handle much after that.
[The first memory had been... not happy, exactly, but impactful in a way that was difficult to describe. He'd felt the echo of their past and his own, the ripple of emotions that he'd felt once, that his father had felt. Like the memory wanted to share with him that other generations had struggled and still loved each other dearly. He didn't regret seeing that.
On the other hand, he certainly hadn't needed to be reminded that the Oracles had suffered and struggled over the years, and he'd had no need or desire to watch Luna die, even as a vague silhouette. The emotions had been real enough. Her willing sacrifice, her grief at what she was giving up, so that he could live on and save their home... he'll carry those, if he must, for her sake. But he hadn't needed to know for him to be willing to return that gift for the world.]
[ It would have been such a boon, she's sure, to explore those memories for any other number of reasons: perhaps to see more of those he loves in their youth, such as his mother or father, or to see what Prompto, Ignis, or Gladio had been doing while he was confined to the Crystal. Or, on some desperate hope, that one memory somewhere might have something the gods had overlooked...
But she cannot say that, let alone suggest it not now, not while he's recovering. It must be his choice, anyway, for what he wishes to do with those memories. If it is too much, she would not call him wanting peace for himself as "running away" from it, either. He needs that peace. She only wants to facilitate what he wants. ] Mm-hm.
That first memory... It was sweet. But the rest-- [ She stops herself then, knowing that she's just repeating what he's saying. ]
....You don't deserve to be hurt by your crystal like that, if you choose to look for memories again.
[He won't commit to whether or not he wants to go back, not yet. It's too fresh, and he's struggling to justify it. There might be still some lingering curiosity later- if there's something worth the struggle, if there are more significant discoveries waiting to reveal themselves. As she'd said, the first memory was sweet, and it triggered within him something of a revelation about his own past. But the pain that followed after... was it worth it?]
...Me neither. [ She encourages, keeping her voice soft. If she could tell him to keep saying that he doesn't want to be hurt, maybe he'll start to believe that he doesn't deserve to be hurt, either. ]
Safe and healthy. You have a right to have those things, too, just as any other.
[He's quiet at that, his head tilting somewhat listlessly to the side as he ponders the implications of those words. They're not great.]
...It's weird, isn't it? Having to be told something like that. It's not normal.
[It isn't the first time, either, though the situation is different now. But there's something viscerally wrong about having to be told that someone does not have the right to hurt him- even if that someone is a god. When it comes to the divine, there isn't even a guarantee that this conclusion is the right one. In the eyes of many people, gods have the right to do whatever they want to anyone.]
It is... [ And she does wonder just where that conditioning of his came from. She can't imagine Regis telling him something like that, that he simply had to endure all this pain for the future. But with the weight of the crown, and with Noctis seeing his father do exactly that all for his kingdom and Noctis... Perhaps it didn't need to said. Noctis witnessed the principle of giving oneself up for others, and not complaining, firsthand. ]
I wish you could believe it, too, that you shouldn't need to suffer for others in-- that sort of way. [ She gets it, but this is taking it to an extreme. ] It's awful.... It's terrible.
I... [He wants to object, truly he does. But it would be dishonest, and she deserves more from him.] I don't disbelieve it. I guess that's the problem. I start to feel like I should do better for myself, but something happens to remind me, or someone else is getting hurt and it feels like my fault, and... it's really easy to go back to that.
[Old habits die hard, after all. He can't stand to disappoint people or cause them pain, and it's as easy in the moment to take whatever pain he can onto himself as it is hard to handle the consequences of his choice to do so afterwards. A vicious cycle much easier to ignore than to try and overcome. But he has tried. He's gotten better. ...He hopes he's gotten better.
This is... not one of the better moments, though. He'll admit that.]
[ Her hand moves through his hair, parting the thicker locks of his hair and gently raking over his scalp with her nails. Having been with him for so long, and having seen his more vulnerable moments, she won't suggest that he's not doing enough. She's seen how hard that belief of himself is, that he must put others first.
While it does make him selfless, that same belief harms him. ]
There's a balance, I'm sure... For anything else. But for this? It's not your fault at all.
[ Which is why it's particularly upsetting and... angering... to her. ]
[Balance... no wonder he's struggling with it. He's never been very good at that sort of thing. His life tends to wobble between 0 to 100 with little in between. This place is still the most normal he's ever been, and that's saying a lot. Especially considering the weirdness they'd just experienced, walking through the soulspace of his (and her?) crystal.
Maybe this is where best to start, though, while she's supporting him and here to set him straight if he wavers. So after a moment of hesitation, he says quietly, cautiously,]
It's not my fault. [-And waits for something to happen, for the memories to rush in or the headache to come or something, magical or otherwise, to punish him for rebelling against that persistent self-deprecation the crystal seems to have manifested in him.
And when nothing happens, he tries again, more firmly,] It's not my fault.
It's not your fault. [ She echoes, placing another kiss on the side of his cheek.
She's gladly listen to him say it as many times as he needs. The crystal imposing memories on him, the gods and crystal deciding that it is necessary for such a force to overwhelm him, to-- to manipulate him... it is infuriating. None of that is his fault, especially since he's only done all as has been asked of him.
Just because he still lives, and has lived in relative comfort, doesn't mean that he should have the weight of others' tragedy push him to suffer. He can empathize enough with others' suffering, but turning that into guilt to coax him is where the line is crossed. ]
You know... I wonder. [ When some moments have passed, she dares to speak again. ] For the memories you have seen in the past, of those who passed... [ She thinks of the silhouette of the oracle collapsing. ] Would they want their memory of them to... be used in a way that causes you this pain?
[ Her tone is doubtful, but gentle, attempting to encourage him to explore the manipulation behind it-- and the insult it is, to use such tragic memories of others to do so. ]
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This does make her wonder about the woman she had only a brief chance with whom to interact in Havenwell. ]
She... wasn't lonely, was she? If she had you with whom to correspond.
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[He brushes a hand against his chest, wondering if some of the tightness he feels there is because of her- because the words ring true due to the memories, thoughts, and feelings from the crystal being fed into him, or if it's just wishful thinking. If he made Luna's life even a little bit more bearable, the way she did for him, he'd feel a lot better even about their long separation. Not about failing her, of course. He'd always regret that. But to know he helped... that means a lot.]
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So when she sees Noctis' hand go to his chest, she encourages him, wondering if something is resonating with this fragmented set of a memory. ] ...What are you feeling?
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[He's unsure for a long moment, trying to let his mind sort out the scrambled thoughts rushing through it, feeling such mixed emotions. As they settle, he does the same as before: pulls himself up onto the stone fragment, helping her up to join him. Once they're standing in the dusty old ruins, he takes a few steps into it rather than staying outside of the memory, and rests a hand against the stone of one of the statues.
In that moment, he feels it with such astonishing intensity that his breath catches.]
It's... conflicting. They were so lonely here, tired and sore all the time. The training was hard. And- they were hungry, too. [His lips quirk a little. A series of featureless phantoms appear in the ruins, one after another, silhouettes in white working through a variety of combat forms, meditating, exploring the ruins.] But they were happy too. Some of them loved the work, to be needed, to help people... they were healers, handpicked by the gods. They sang and danced, they traveled the world. They weren't free to do whatever they wanted, but...
[His hand drops, turning to watch the silhouettes move. When they stumbled and fell, they pushed themselves back to their feet and kept working, over and over. Elegant and poised, graceful, the picture of strength. But some cried, pleading for relief before forging ahead with renewed strength. They were human, like any other; they felt grief and frustration in their darker moments, and still they shined.]
It was their duty, and they never shied away from it. They were... proud, but not arrogant. [His breath hitches a little once more, overwhelmed, as he catches himself.] They loved the world so much...
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...Perhaps, because they are like him. He helps others, he does his duty, he loves the world. And if they are (were) like him, then they were rarely if ever told to focus on themselves, that it is okay to express their pain or hardships. ]
It sounds as if they gave all they could to others. [ She begins, slowly, at first thinking that she could leave it at that. ]
That's inspiring, in a way. But also.... sad. What did they have left to give themselves?
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Nothing... that's what makes it so hard. They had to give and give until there was nothing left. It's what the god wants. It's what the world needs. It's why Luna... it's why I...
[He trails off at that, watching another shadow of an Oracle struggle, dropping to their knees, clutching something close to their chest. Long hair billows in an unseen wind, and when they fall, this time, they do not get up again. He recognizes the moment for what it is, even with the details missing, even though he'd been unconscious at the time. The memory is complete now, because the world itself had witnessed the fall of its last Oracle. Luna had held him that day, protecting him, until she died.
He watches the figure - no, the body - for a long moment, and his hand tightens as the final pieces slide into place, like the world's most unpleasant and unbreakable finger trap. His hands are tied now, and there's no going back. The soul of the star resonates with his own and he knows its intent, desperate and unwielding.]
I... get it. I know why they did this to me.
[And he can truly think of it that way now, can't he? Whoever "they" might be, ultimately. Bahamut, the rest of the Six, the Crystal itself. This wasn't a gift bestowed onto him, that it might help him later. There's no mystery to be solved on what he should use this information for. Like a chain around his neck, dragging him towards the gallows, a forced burden that took away even the illusion of choice. It's guilt.
He has no idea how he's meant to feel about this, but what he does feel is pretty wretched.]
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Then Noctis speaks, breaking her from her thoughts. Pyra’s attention shifts from the memory to Noctis, watching his expression as if she might gleam the same realization to which he’s coming.
But she can’t. If there is a purpose to seeing— and feeling, experiencing these memories, surely it is because there some mystery, knowledge, or key information he must find within them, something that can help him save his world…. ]
What is it? Noct…
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Failing that, he shifts closer and wraps his arms around her, drawing her in for a tight embrace, needing her warmth in this moment and, without shame or self-restraint, asking for the comfort she always offers so freely. This sucks. This sucks so much, and that's putting it very lightly. Did he need this realization? Maybe. Maybe he shouldn't have chased it. To know that... all this time, everything he did, everything he already lost and sacrificed... they never believed in him. They thought he needed this, too.
Or maybe he did need it, and he'd just been fooling himself all this time, thinking he was selfless enough to accept his fate without these subconscious thoughts around to bury his resistance. How would he ever know?]
It was... so I wouldn't run. So I wouldn't refuse. [He makes himself say it at last, and every word is a battle. He hates it, hates admitting it.] I wanted to fight it in the Crystal. I remember- I wanted to refuse. Aren't I alive, too? Don't I deserve a chance to live? [It's not fair. I won't do it. I refuse to do it. Isn't there another way? And then those memories came, and he could think of little else.] I didn't want to die. But I saw everyone on Eos... all of their lives. Everyone who died, who still lived. That's the price of my refusing.
[All of them will vanish. His arms tighten around her, and he buries his face, voice muffled.]
I wasn't strong enough. The crystal could tell, so it... made sure I wouldn't back down. They couldn't leave it to chance...
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...And what an answer it is.
Aren't I alive, too? Don't I deserve a chance to live?
But I saw everyone on Eos... all of their lives. Everyone who died, who still lived. That's the price of my refusing.
I wasn't strong enough. The crystal could tell, so it... made sure I wouldn't back down.
There is not mysterious 'answer' he must find within these memories, no key to finding another part of the prophecy which he must fulfill. The memories by which he is overwhelmed are meant to do just that: overwhelm and oppress, to bring him down by guilt. ] As if.... [ Her voice trembles, and she stops herself to breathe-- something she needn't do, but somehow she finds herself doing so, because she needs to pause. To collect herself. Why does she need to collect herself? A quick reflection into this strange, new feeling answers her: because she's insulted on his behalf, because she's in disbelief, because it isn't fair to him. She realizes then that the tremble in her voice hadn't been due to sorrow, but a kind of anger. ] As if your selflessness wasn't enough?!
[ Because the gods or his crystal didn't trust him, so they needed more insurance that the way to save their world would come to pass. She can understand that-- she could even see herself doing something similar, not trusting someone on a subject in order to save her world. She can understand that the world is that important. But every time she steps back to analyze such a justification from her position in her world, she's brought back to here, to the man in her arms, to the individual that suffers because of it, to the trust between man and god or crystal that is now broken-- and all the repercussions and suffering that brings. Because... the gods could not do better. They may have a plan to save their world, but they failed him in this.
(And, Architect, if she is to be like that in her world-- to be some sort of deity that doesn't trust those who she wishes to save, if it means it simply causes them more suffering-- suffering like how she sees Noctis suffer-- or if it means that those she claims to love and want to protect are hurt because of her....
Suddenly, desperately, she wants to do better than that, because she sees now such pain can never be justified, not to those she loves.)
Pyra gives his shoulder a small squeeze, the only warning he'll receive before she brings him into a proper embrace, her arms around his back, careful as always with his scars, to bring him to her more tightly. ] Noct...
[ Her head remains alongside his. ] I-- I understand, wanting to save one's world. But they were wrong to do this. You don't deserve this treatment.
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"Witness his splendor and glory. All hail the Chosen King."
"Pull your head out of your ass already!"
"Those who died for you—do you ever wonder what went through their minds?"
"Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all."
Of course, of course. It's only fair. It's less than fair. His life is not worth more than- no, it's worth less than-
Her last words draw him out of the flurry of thoughts that swirl together with the memories in his mind, though he struggles to stop himself from focusing on them, when before he'd tried to draw them in, coax them to reveal themselves. Now he wants them to stop, but they're pushing back, their purpose finally brought to light. He needs to get out of here. To leave this world, to go home, fulfill his duty for Eos and its people.
...But.
Wrong, she says.
You don't deserve this, she says.
He shudders, clinging to her, and quietly wills her voice to override what's trying to drown his resistance.]
Why don't I? [he manages weakly.] I wanted to fight, I wanted to run away. I remember it now. It wasn't fair. I thought about what I'd lose, I was scared... that's not selfless. How could I not deserve a reminder of everything we'd lost? Everything we'd lose?
[Just him. If it was just him, it would be okay. The world would carry on. Choose, the crystal resonated within him, demanding his deference, and with those memories weighing on him, he had no choice at all. The fact that he'd even considered it to be a choice was proof that he deserved this.]
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He calls himself weak, but she's never seen him weak. He says he's wanted to run away, to live, as if anyone wanting to live is such a selfish request even in the face of self-sacrifice. When has he ever run away, anyway?! Perhaps put off some unpleasant conversations, but he's always done what others have asked of him, what was necessary. He's always fought for others. He's questioning his value, and if the goal of having these memories is to crush him utterly, then she's watching it happen in real time.
(Had exploring this part of his soul been a mistake?)
She refuses to let these memories 'win' in that sort of way. ] Noct.... Listen, please, listen.
[ She pulls away from him, her hand withdrawing from his shoulder to go to his cheek, cupping and supporting his face so that he may look at her. ]
I know you-- and I adore your want to fight and protect others... but at the same time [ Her voice wavers, and she looks at him helplessly. ] am so, so frightened of it, too, because you always put others above yourself.
[ It's the same sort of love she has for her own world and the people in it. Of course she wants to live, too, to be with those she loves. Of course that same love drives her to protect them, and to sacrifice herself for it.
He wouldn't run away, because as much as he loves his friends, as much as he'd want to be with them-- she knows for certain that he would not want to see them suffer. The gods and crystal may have read his wants, but they completely misunderstood his love and want to protect others, and in their fear that their Chosen would not obey, they hurt him further. ]
You don't deserve this-- because they don't know how much you love your friends, your family, how much you would do for them, no matter what cost. They underestimated you, and...
Your gods, your crystal... They really don't know, do they? [ A short, breathless and wry half-laugh escapes her in disbelief. This is a lesson that he had taught her, too. As it turns out, gods and immortals anywhere can stand to learn something from him. ]
You are not selfish for wanting to live, for wanting to be with those you love.
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He wants to believe her. He tries to. But as those overwhelming memories swirl deeper through his subconscious, grinding up against the forefront of his mind and vying for more of his attention than the woman before him, his eyes grow clouded, and he bows his head. He can't think... he can't focus. It feels like before, when the memories broke through his mental wall and nearly killed him. The ache of warning is there, and while she's protecting him from being truly overwhelmed in the same way, this close proximity is drawing them to him like a nest of hornets. She tells him he doesn't deserve this, and he thinks about a girl in Gralea who didn't deserve to be devoured when her mother turned into a daemon. She tells him he loves his family, and he thinks of a man coming home to his family in Lestallum with a grim diagnosis, who won't live through the starscourge now plaguing him because their useless king got the last Oracle killed. She tells him he's not selfish for wanting to live, and he thinks about a woman begging for her life as magitek troopers tear through her home with guns and blades, searching for the Crownsguard she'd sheltered. He feels their pain, their grief, their fear, and his own must pale before theirs, because there's so much. There's so much. Thousands of years, too much.
He takes a slow, shuddering breath, and his gaze drifts to the side as the ruins of Ralmuell crumble and disappear around them, leaving them once more alone in the void, only the echo of thousands of voices whispering around him. Our star. Our world. Our future. The blood price must be paid.
Enter into reflection.
He closes his eyes, then, and leans in to brush his head against hers, wishing for all the world that her voice would drown all the others out. This is reflection. Ten years of wandering through the thoughts and memories of their star and feeling the weight of every person who lived, so when the time came to make his choice, there'd be no choice at all. This... is an understanding he'd needed to come to, that much is true. But he's not ready to face it yet.]
Can... we go? Get out of here? I don't want to be here anymore.
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Then he takes that shuddering breath and leans forward, putting his forehead to hers once more, and begs for respite from the torture through which he's been put.
Her expression falls, and she draws a quick, frightened breath. Had they made a mistake, coming here?
Is this the crystal winning against him, or is this the crystal imposing its will onto him, to have him retreat? Is he truly not strong enough to endure, or is it simply a belief imposed on him that he's weak, that he can't--
Can we go?
Whatever the reason, she sees the misery and defeat clearly written upon his face. That's cause enough for them to leave, to stop his suffering. ]
Okay.... [ She replies, bringing her hand to his cheek. ] Okay.
[ They have an answer to why he has these memories, at least, as terrible as it is. Going forward from here-- she's not sure where it may lead; she hopes the damage's been done by the immense guilt that has been imposed onto his heart, the guilt of living, the guilt of surviving while others have not, will ease when he wakes. It is a strong force with which to contend, and for once, Pyra is unsure if she has an answer to the struggle when she had to contend with such guilt herself. What she is certain about is that he's been done wrong by the gods, that this turmoil is not what he deserves, and that she'll insist on that as many times as necessary.
They return to reality, awakening on their bed and resting side by side. Pyra pulls herself back from him, searching his expression before she leans in and kisses the top of his forehead, lingering there. ] You're still wonderful, you know that.
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Here again, though, all he can hear is her voice and the pounding of his heart, the sound of his own breath as he exhales, inhales, and regains control of his body, fights to relax. He's... here. He's himself. He's okay.]
I'm okay, [he manages out loud, his voice tremulous at first, so he swallows and tries again, stronger this time.] I'm okay. [He's wonderful. Is he? It's easier to believe her now. There's no extra voice - voices - whispering that he isn't so wonderful that he's allowed to keep living. That's nice.] I- ...I think that place... gets kinda intense, the longer I'm there.
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I'm glad you asked to stop.
[ Moments ago, she had thought that maybe he could have endured, that it had been the crystal that was making him believe he could not. Seeing how far more at ease he is while awake causes her to doubt that very same thought. If there is a means to last longer within that realm of the crystal's memories, he isn't going to know on his first try. And at the moment, she's too frightened of what irreparable harm the crystal may do to him to wonder further. ]
It was like watching those memories eat away at your will, right then and there. [ --And that's just it, she had only watched. She hadn't experienced those memories as he had. ] We... don't have to go back in there, if you don't want.
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Yeah... [He can't really deny it. That is what was happening, wasn't it? He hadn't been given much of a chance to push back against them. Any time he tried, they pushed back infinitely harder, and he'd been vastly outnumbered.] I'll... have to think about it. What I want to do. I mean- it started out okay, didn't it? It was almost a good thing. I just couldn't handle much after that.
[The first memory had been... not happy, exactly, but impactful in a way that was difficult to describe. He'd felt the echo of their past and his own, the ripple of emotions that he'd felt once, that his father had felt. Like the memory wanted to share with him that other generations had struggled and still loved each other dearly. He didn't regret seeing that.
On the other hand, he certainly hadn't needed to be reminded that the Oracles had suffered and struggled over the years, and he'd had no need or desire to watch Luna die, even as a vague silhouette. The emotions had been real enough. Her willing sacrifice, her grief at what she was giving up, so that he could live on and save their home... he'll carry those, if he must, for her sake. But he hadn't needed to know for him to be willing to return that gift for the world.]
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But she cannot say that, let alone suggest it not now, not while he's recovering. It must be his choice, anyway, for what he wishes to do with those memories. If it is too much, she would not call him wanting peace for himself as "running away" from it, either. He needs that peace. She only wants to facilitate what he wants. ] Mm-hm.
That first memory... It was sweet. But the rest-- [ She stops herself then, knowing that she's just repeating what he's saying. ]
....You don't deserve to be hurt by your crystal like that, if you choose to look for memories again.
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[He won't commit to whether or not he wants to go back, not yet. It's too fresh, and he's struggling to justify it. There might be still some lingering curiosity later- if there's something worth the struggle, if there are more significant discoveries waiting to reveal themselves. As she'd said, the first memory was sweet, and it triggered within him something of a revelation about his own past. But the pain that followed after... was it worth it?]
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Safe and healthy. You have a right to have those things, too, just as any other.
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...It's weird, isn't it? Having to be told something like that. It's not normal.
[It isn't the first time, either, though the situation is different now. But there's something viscerally wrong about having to be told that someone does not have the right to hurt him- even if that someone is a god. When it comes to the divine, there isn't even a guarantee that this conclusion is the right one. In the eyes of many people, gods have the right to do whatever they want to anyone.]
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I wish you could believe it, too, that you shouldn't need to suffer for others in-- that sort of way. [ She gets it, but this is taking it to an extreme. ] It's awful.... It's terrible.
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[Old habits die hard, after all. He can't stand to disappoint people or cause them pain, and it's as easy in the moment to take whatever pain he can onto himself as it is hard to handle the consequences of his choice to do so afterwards. A vicious cycle much easier to ignore than to try and overcome. But he has tried. He's gotten better. ...He hopes he's gotten better.
This is... not one of the better moments, though. He'll admit that.]
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While it does make him selfless, that same belief harms him. ]
There's a balance, I'm sure... For anything else. But for this? It's not your fault at all.
[ Which is why it's particularly upsetting and... angering... to her. ]
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Maybe this is where best to start, though, while she's supporting him and here to set him straight if he wavers. So after a moment of hesitation, he says quietly, cautiously,]
It's not my fault. [-And waits for something to happen, for the memories to rush in or the headache to come or something, magical or otherwise, to punish him for rebelling against that persistent self-deprecation the crystal seems to have manifested in him.
And when nothing happens, he tries again, more firmly,] It's not my fault.
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She's gladly listen to him say it as many times as he needs. The crystal imposing memories on him, the gods and crystal deciding that it is necessary for such a force to overwhelm him, to-- to manipulate him... it is infuriating. None of that is his fault, especially since he's only done all as has been asked of him.
Just because he still lives, and has lived in relative comfort, doesn't mean that he should have the weight of others' tragedy push him to suffer. He can empathize enough with others' suffering, but turning that into guilt to coax him is where the line is crossed. ]
You know... I wonder. [ When some moments have passed, she dares to speak again. ] For the memories you have seen in the past, of those who passed... [ She thinks of the silhouette of the oracle collapsing. ] Would they want their memory of them to... be used in a way that causes you this pain?
[ Her tone is doubtful, but gentle, attempting to encourage him to explore the manipulation behind it-- and the insult it is, to use such tragic memories of others to do so. ]
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