[The start of the process is old hat by now; they've done it enough times that he calms easily and settles into a breathing pattern with her, allowing his power to gently mesh with hers. It does feel different, of course, as she eases him into this new path towards a deeper concentration than he's ever experienced, and when it fully sinks in he inhales a little louder, startled. The intensity of it is unexpected, and for a minute at least he's lost in it, focused purely on not letting himself get overwhelmed. The breeze, the barrier, the daily chatter of the temple around them- none of it matters. He's here to listen, and as he focuses, as he reaches out to the power within the Ring of the Lucii and his own magic stretches out to meet her in the middle, he listens, and--
--the cacophony of voices is so instant and so loud that he grimaces, his fingers going tense around her hands, and he ducks his head as if it might help.]
Easy, easy, [he mumbles, almost too quiet to be heard, though even his voice sounds too loud in his own ears.] I hear you. I'm trying.
[He forces himself to relax and tries again, extending a metaphorical hand towards the myriad of souls all speaking at once in a singular and deafening whisper.
With her eyes closed, it might be difficult for Pyra to visually notice it at first- there is a silver sheen to his magic this time, gently pulsing in stages between bright and dim, sourcing from a ring on the middle finger of his right hand that wasn't there before. Still blue, and still very much his own, but... different. What she may not see, she will definitely feel. Not just with their fingers entwined, hers brushing against cold metal where only skin should be, but with the distinctly different nature of the third power twisting its way between their normal infusion.
This magic is several things that Noct's normally is not: it is old, it is dead, and it is polished in a way that only an artifact made by someone of immense skill and power can be, touched and crafted by something otherworldly- divine, even. Where his power is stuttered and unrefined, strong but still tethered by lack of training and the lingering scars within his body, the ring is perfect, complete. It knows precisely what it is and what it needs to do.
What it needs is to be heard, and Noctis is listening.]
no subject
--the cacophony of voices is so instant and so loud that he grimaces, his fingers going tense around her hands, and he ducks his head as if it might help.]
Easy, easy, [he mumbles, almost too quiet to be heard, though even his voice sounds too loud in his own ears.] I hear you. I'm trying.
[He forces himself to relax and tries again, extending a metaphorical hand towards the myriad of souls all speaking at once in a singular and deafening whisper.
With her eyes closed, it might be difficult for Pyra to visually notice it at first- there is a silver sheen to his magic this time, gently pulsing in stages between bright and dim, sourcing from a ring on the middle finger of his right hand that wasn't there before. Still blue, and still very much his own, but... different. What she may not see, she will definitely feel. Not just with their fingers entwined, hers brushing against cold metal where only skin should be, but with the distinctly different nature of the third power twisting its way between their normal infusion.
This magic is several things that Noct's normally is not: it is old, it is dead, and it is polished in a way that only an artifact made by someone of immense skill and power can be, touched and crafted by something otherworldly- divine, even. Where his power is stuttered and unrefined, strong but still tethered by lack of training and the lingering scars within his body, the ring is perfect, complete. It knows precisely what it is and what it needs to do.
What it needs is to be heard, and Noctis is listening.]