[ His silence speaks for him in ways that words couldn't. The fear of loss is a feeling that many cannot even entertain to fathom, and right here, right now, he's staring it in face. She remains quiet, retracting her hand back to his shoulder as he brings out his communicator. When it lands upon a familiar name, her shoulders rise with a quick intake of air. ]
Oh... Noct.
[ One loss is terrible enough, and now, to be sitting on the cusp of another... What can she say to that? ]
I'm... so sorry. I'm... [ She tries again, for words, for sympathy, to reach for something to say to him to offer some platitude, a comfort in this moment. This isn't fair to him-- life never is, as a rule-- one leaving, and another falling asleep, leaving him like this. She shakes her head, for once having nothing to offer at present. Presumably, all who leave return to their worlds, but saying that won't be any comfort, because they are not here with him.
And if he wasn't here beside his father, she is certain he would be on his phone waiting and awake anyways, looing for his father's name to disappear from his contact list. ]
[He purses his lips tightly, dismissing his communicator again. The message delivered, he doesn't want to look at it any longer, to see the absence of her name, a manifestation of her absence in his life.]
...Same day. I went to find him, but...
[He'd gone to his father's side during his vigil over Cor, to talk with him about it. The man has been missing his wife since his arrival, and while he and Luna never married, living together had been domestic enough that the feeling had to be similar, so Regis would understand this ache. He never knew Aulea, but the stories about her helped him forget, sometimes.
Only Regis had already been asleep when he arrived.]
[ For him to lose a father to sleep and his fiancée to his home world in one day— she hopes all their their comfort was for him. Pyra’s hand remains upon his shoulder in a way she hopes is reassuring. She may not be family, but she will try to give what she can as someone who has the honor to be his friend.
As for Luna, however... She struggles with what to say, and a few more moments in silence pass as she waits. ] She was... [ Like falling snow, and as delicate as moonlight. In the brief time Pyra had known her, she had gotten to see how strong she was as a person. ] Kind.
[ It’s a shame that that kindness has gone from this world; but, she is certain that same kindness has inspired so many back in her own. Pyra draws a breath. There is only one right thing she might say, if he won’t allow this luxury himself: ]
Take— take all the time that you need.
[ He should take all the time he needs. However long he might need. Training— he’s been doing so to become stronger, to protect those he loves. He’s mentioned he needs to be strong for something upcoming in his world. But right now? Training can wait, especially if it means pulling him from his father’s side, or him not processing this loss of a loved one. ]
[Noctis can only nod at first, sniffing awkwardly and rubbing his brace hand under his nose; he's not exactly crying, but the signs are there that he's struggled with it for a while, has perhaps done it recently when none were watching.]
She's always been kind, ever since I met her. I could barely look at anyone back then, wouldn't talk... but she just smiled and took care of me. It was... the first time in forever that I felt like I mattered at all.
[It hadn't been too long before those days in Tenebrae that he'd been little more than a lonely brat, pretending he didn't care about anyone so it wouldn't hurt so much to be ignored by the one who should have loved him the most. But Luna... she gave him a place where he could feel safe and important, helped him to understand his duty and his future, limited in scope as it may have been at the time. Even after returning to Lucis, no matter what he was going through, the arrival of Umbra and their notebook always made him smile. As surely as his friends or his father, her support had been integral in forming him into the man he'd become, and he owed her so much. He'd tried to return the favour here, to support her and help her enjoy life outside of her duties, but... he doesn't know if it was enough. She's gone now, so it can't have been, right? He'd failed. Again, he'd failed her.
[ Out of respect for his hidden, or perhaps not so hidden, grief, she turns her head down as he swipes at his nose. Tired and mournful, he still remains at his father’s side. But it seems that speaking of Luna... helps. Somewhat. (It usually does, as she’s noticed.)
However.
How could a prince feel like he did not matter, even as a child? The royal life is not always as what it seems, yes, but this is surprising to hear. She won't dare voice this question, however, not when it might make the conversation sadder than it is. Besides, the point is that Luna-- Luna helped him. ]
You were... looking at the snow in quiet wonder, three months ago.
[Were the situation different, he might have smiled. He has no idea how he looks at her, but if it was anything like how he felt when he looked at her, he can imagine what an expression like that might have conveyed to those who saw it. Dare he dream that it's what she saw, too? She deserved to know how he felt, even if he struggled with how to say it aloud. He hoped she knew, before she vanished.
He thinks back to what Pyra had told him back then, what she's reminded him of multiple times since they met. He should have said more. There were so many things he'd wanted to tell her, so many things she must have wanted to say to him. How much time had they wasted on- on nothing? On sleeping or eating or just sitting together in silence, something he was comfortable with and that she never complained about but- what if it wasn't what she wanted?
What a fool he's been.]
I just... wanted to make her happy. She deserved it. She- she deserved so much, she's been giving and giving and giving her whole life. Why couldn't she have this? Just for a little while... why send her back, but not me? I don't get it.
[His life might've been twisted upside down that last summer back home, but her entire life has been a struggle, surely. Losing her mother to death and her brother to Niflheim, throwing herself into the Oracle duties constantly since she took up the mantle, travelling and healing. He played video games, attended a normal school, indulged in fishing trips, all while she was out there exhausting herself for the people who suffered in their world.
Didn't she earn her rest more than anyone? It isn't fair.]
[ Her touch upon his shoulder must be no more than a bandage upon a gaping wound. From the way he speaks of losing her, he's bleeding with this loss, more than... Hm. More than she would expect. It's as if he's lost her, completely, when she is only back in Eos.
She does not know the answers to his questions: why her, not him? What the gods choose to do with those they summon here baffles her as well. Some stay briefly, others stay for months. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, no matter to determine who fades and who does not. To demand answers of the gods, however, is an entitlement she will not indulge herself, although she sees no harm in others questioning them. ]
I'm sure you made her very happy, in her time here. [ She has no doubt in her mind that he did. He underestimates himself in this way, too: the way he is a light to others, not by any intention on is part, but simply by being. It's clear he wants to be where Luna is. ]
And, ...when you see in her your world... you'll do the same there. Make her happy. [ For surely he will see her then, surely. Or, by some fate, she will return to Havenwell to be with him again. Whether that be with memories or not, she cannot say, but she does not wish to give him a false hope. ]
[Those words should make him happy. They should, they're very kind, and he wants desperately to believe them. Instead he winces. Of course she doesn't know- how could she? Even he would not know, if Cor hadn't...
He takes a shuddering breath, his gaze carefully averted, still fixed on his father's face.]
Changing the future... can be dangerous. It can make things worse. I know you don't... like the idea. [His voice is so faint, barely audible.] Do you think there's any exceptions? If you knew, absolutely, that it would be better if you did something different?
[ She doesn't catch that wince, unfortunately, as she's looking away from him, but she hears the new carefulness in his tone. The words themselves cause her hand to slacken, slightly, with her touch, but she wills it to remain upon his shoulder.
He's asking because he wants to change something in his future? Or his fathers? Luna's? ] What do you mean?
[ More importantly, how would he know absolutely certainly what he would do would be better for his future, if he does not have the means to look into it himself. ]
[His hands clench together more tightly, knuckles going stark white; the ring presses into his skin like a branding mark.]
When I go back... I'll be in Altissia, for the trial of Leviathan. Luna's waiting for me there. But- something- I don't know what, something goes wrong, Cor told me she doesn't-
[The last words are choked out, far harder to acknowledge than her disappearance from this place. His hands unclasp only to lift and cover his face instead.]
I won't see her...
[He fails. He fails, and he loses her forever. And he's been trying and trying to think what he could do, how he could prevent it- he's been training and struggling to do better, be better, forced himself to wear the ring and learn magic that might save her. He's too weak, though, too slow. All that power and he's still scared that it isn't enough.
It all comes back to the one thought that keeps haunting him: there couldn't possibly be a future worse than the one without her in it.]
[ It's when he buries his face into his hands, hiding his expression from the world as if in defeat for things that haven't yet come to pass, that it clicks: Luna perishes. Wearing a ring as a symbol of his becoming king is one thing, but this is the reason why Noctis had asked her for her help for how to be brave. He needs this power to fight for Luna, to save her.
Months ago, gathering the small lights within his heart, he had focused over and over again upon protecting them all, all of them he could try to save. Some kept on slipping from his grasp, falling from his fingers, but he tried, he tried, until he was exhausted. He will never be satisfied, knowing that Luna's light may be forever out of his reach... No, she had been in his reach. She had been here with him. Now she is gone back to her own world, where she will expire. Whether or not he recalls what he's learned here, it will be as if he's experiencing her loss twice over.
It's... cruel, and what she said just now, in her ignorance, must have only driven that knife into him further. ] Noct...
[ She starts again, as if to apologize, but in the end she brings a blanket up with one hand to drape it over them both. His father will be obscured form his line of sight, but they are here beneath it. If he doesn't want the world to see his frustration or his tears, then they will be hidden by this cover. She doesn't know if this will comfort him, but she tries. She tries. She tires to work in ways that may make him feel safe to express himself. ]
I... That's what you've been training for. To become strong enough to change her future.
[He hunches down, almost resistant for a moment before he leans into it, clutching at the blanket's edge, his body trembling against her as he lets the tears fall. It's pathetic, isn't it? How all he can do is wait and hope for things to get better, stand by uselessly while instead it only gets worse for everyone else. Luna vanished, first Cor and now his father trapped in these strange comas- back home Ignis lost his sight and Prompto separated from them, Gladio absent from their group this whole time-
Who else is he going to fail to protect?]
...I wanted to. I tried... but I'm still too weak. It takes too long. I can't... I can't think of how...
[Just hearing that she'll die almost made him fall apart, that first time. The thought of asking for specifics had made him feel wretched, but no one else even knows. Their future selves were the only witnesses, so... it had to have been him. His failure.]
[ With the blanket suspended over them like a tent it's not so dark that she cannot make out his expression under the cover, and her crystals lend to a dim, constant light beside. But she doesn't need to see anything at all to know that he's...hurting, he's hurting and she doesn't know how to help him. Someone so strong, and with such power, now trembling from grief as if he's not enough.
Even now, he's struggling, thinking, frustrated with the great progress he has made and dismissing it as too little. Maybe it is too little, that he sees where he wants to be-- the wall of his father, the shadow Somnus casts, the rest of the kings-- and knows that he is not there. But he has gods, he has the ring now, and still it seems that it's not enough. She understands. Architect, she understands, and she only understood it when she was stolen down to the earth. Power: what good is it, if it cannot protect those one loves? It does not automatically grant control, and without that control over everything, it only feels more helpless.
She pulls him into her arms, careful of his back where the scars lie, and brings his head to her shoulder. One hand splays up the back of his head, tangling into his hair, and she-- holds him. That's all she does.
She wants to tell him it will be okay, she wants to reassure and comfort him... but she doesn't know. She can't agree with changing the future, not with so many uncertainties, not with any permission to glimpse into his, not without a want to, but to see him as upset as this-- that feeling of helplessness, she does not want him to ever experience it, ever again. He doesn't need that. ] It's.... not your fault.
Whatever happens, I'm sure. I'm sure, Noct, that it isn't your fault.
[He desperately wants to believe her; it's something he's been quietly telling himself when his thoughts grow too dark, when he remembers what awaits him whenever he goes back. It's not his fault. It's not something he did. It's just a mistake that needs fixing, some foe that he can defeat or shield her from, or retaliation from Leviathan that he can quell during the trial. It's not too late, he can still fix things. He needs Luna, and... the world needs its Oracle, too.
Does it help in the end, to think like that? He's still not sure. Whether it's something he does or something he fails to do, she still dies regardless. A death caused by inaction is still blood on his hands and guilt on his conscience. He can't dismiss that, not when it's someone so dear to his heart.
He doesn't argue, though, even if he can't agree with her words. He doesn't want to fight this, he just doesn't want to lose her at all. When Pyra pulls him in he does not resist, merely bends to lean against her, eyes clenched, silently allowing his grief to pour out. And if she doesn't move, he'll stay like that for a while, until he's run out of tears to shed and is too exhausted to even cry anymore.
He wishes it made him feel better, but in truth he just feels more pitiful. He's not strong enough, even for this.]
[ What she wouldn't have given for someone to have done the same, when she lost those she loved. To hold her and listen, to be there even if they neither would be able to understand her grief nor herself be able to voice her sorrow properly. But this feels different, this feels... as if what she is doing isn't enough for him. Why does it feel that way. In truth, suddenly she feels quite helpless herself in the face of his grief.
She continues to embrace him anyways, because-- Do you think there are any exceptions? --What a hypocrite she is. She won't help him. She can only hold him.
Pyra allows him to rest against her shoulder, holding him to her but not enough that he cannot move away from her or adjust if he so pleases. She wishes to facilitate, not to stifle. Only occasionally does her hand move against the back of his head, flatting out his hair in soft, smooth pats; another time, she repeats in a whisper: it's not your fault. And should he still be listening, she will also say: it hurts; I know, I know. I'm sorry.
When it seems that grief has passed, no matter how long it is, she loosens her embrace to draw somewhat away, moving to press her forehead against his. Just as when they had first met, she'll guide him, breathing with him, to usher in a calm. Her warmth is shared in their proximity beneath the blanket, but should he break away to meet her eyes, he'll see they're misting. ]
[It's automatic, tired and a little embarrassed that he let himself do that. She's been so kind and patient, and all he's managed to do is snot all over her shoulder, probably. Wiping at his eyes, he draws back and tugs up the blanket a few inches, intent on checking on his father, but before he gets that far he catches sight of her and pauses.]
Pyra...?
[Is she crying, too? He hadn't meant to drag anyone into misery with him.]
[ For her, it isn't about feeling awful; it's about feeling for him, or-- feeling at all. She'll take these emotions to whatever qualifies as her heart. (And to be sure, she is very empathetic.)
She's teared up, yes, but she doesn't seem bothered by it. It's not she who has lost anyone this day. It's not she who will have to face losing another in the future. ] ...You know it.
You know you're strong, still, alright?
[ She lifts her hand from his shoulder, up to his cheek. With a thumb she wipes over his skin, softly, as if she could say that she doesn't think any less of him for expressing his sadness in front of her. ]
[Strong... she says it with such confidence that any objection he might have dies in his throat, words he's not willing to voice. To deny it would be like calling her a liar, and that feels wrong, in light of all she's done.
Instead he lowers his eyes, swallowing hard, and raises one hand to press it over the fingers on his cheek, quietly holding on for a long moment.]
...I'll... keep trying. I'll try to live up to that.
[He's used to high expectations; she makes it sound as if he's already achieved them. Even for all he has yet to do, even for his failings, what he's just admitted will come in the future, she can still look at him and say that. He feels unworthy, but so, so grateful for it.
"I won't let you down."
"I know you won't."
Luna believed in him, too. He won't dishonour her by simply laying down and giving up.]
[ It's his touch of his hand over hers, securing the seal of her palm to his cheek, that gives her the confidence that he will get through this, whether that be staggering or sprinting into the next battle. ]
You won't be alone.
[ She might not be of his world, his family, or Luna, but she is here. She, and-- a number of others here, for him.
Then, she tugs at the blanket over them, offering a small smile. ] You can stay here, if you like. We can... talk about anything. Your father. Luna. Or not. Whatever you wish.
[He does nod this time, acknowledging the truth of it. He has so many people around him, supporting him- and even those who are gone or might leave him in the future still believe in him, he knows. He's never truly been alone. Even when he thought he was, Carbuncle was there the whole time. And... she's here. She came, at a moment's notice, all because he asked her. He was an asshole about it, too, but still she came.
He gives her hand a small squeeze, pondering her offer for a long moment. There's probably plenty that he could say, but he doesn't trust his voice, and too many of his stories about them are sad. Broken promises and shattered dreams, a long-distance friendship and longing over too many years apart. So much of what he'd hoped for, taken away by the Empire under false pretenses. The Tenebrae visit. The treaty. The wedding. Silly ideas about happy endings or holding on to what he loves, torn away from him. He'll fight for everything he has left, but... there's no guarantees yet.
Finally he closes his eyes, shaking his head. He can't.]
Not yet. Not... right now.
[Glancing over at her, his eyes faintly pleading, he whispers,]
Can you tell me something? Anything? Distract me...
[Just let him think about anything but what's threatening to slip between his fingers.]
[ When she looks at him like that, there's no way she can refuse, even if she wanted to. She'll do anything for him, including to try to take his mind off of the present with something else. She debates between a story or talking about the stars, as she finds easy enough to do. However, knowing that she can become quite technical with the latter, and that he's not too keen on science, she decides that a... story will be more suitable.
But first, it's time to become more comfortable. She moves, pivoting her body so that she's sitting alongside him again, so that he might lean against her if he chooses. Might as well become comfortable, she thinks, as she tugs the blanket down from their heads, letting it fall across their shoulders instead.
This also grants her some time to think. A story? A story. She does not know many, unfortunately, but she knows that he holds some interest in her world, so it'll have to be one from her own. ]
We call our continents Titans... but a long, long time ago, they were once referred to as Divine Beasts. [ She starts out slowly, her voice soft as if recounting an old folktale. ] The people worshiped them. Festivals in the spring, festivals in the summer, the fall, the winter... Whatever the Titans gave, they would honor in return.
Millennia ago, a great empire arose called Regideria, and among their kings was one named... Dagas. [ Here, a small smile forms upon her lips, as if she's recounting something amusing. This is a story told to children, one that is meant to be entertaining. ]
Dagas was an arrogant man. His definition of strength came in two brands only: the way in which he could swing his greataxe, and the swift manner by means he could crush unclaimed provinces beneath his foot. [ She continues as if crafting a caricature of him, making him pompous, prideful. ] It's said that he had a very, very boastful laugh, one that could shake the very mountains of the Titans or awaken just about anything from their slumber. Mice, insects, people... and even slumbering beasts.
"Ha, ha, ha!" [ Why, yes, she draws out the ha in a staggered, theatrical laugh. ] "There is no foe I cannot slay! Revere my strength!"
[ What would be come of Dagas? Tune in to the next part of the story. ]
[He moves with her as their positions are shuffled, and starts out shoulder to shoulder; as she speaks, though, he sinks lower and lower, tired both mentally and physically. He'd rather focus on her words than staying upright, and he's only got energy enough for one of those, so he ends up with his head on her shoulder instead. You'd almost think he dozed off, he's so quiet and still, but when she pauses he speaks up,]
That's a pretty good evil laugh. You should do voices in cartoons. [It's almost a joke! Consider him mostly distracted, even if one-half of his misery is still right in front of his eyes.] Let me guess, he wanted to fight the Titans, too?
[He exhales a huff, not a laugh but... well, it's something. His expression is intentionally neutral, the only way he knows how to control it right now. Better than grief, right?]
Yeah, I'm a bad listener. Ask... Iggy.
[Not his father, which had been his first impulse before he'd caught himself.]
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Oh... Noct.
[ One loss is terrible enough, and now, to be sitting on the cusp of another... What can she say to that? ]
I'm... so sorry. I'm... [ She tries again, for words, for sympathy, to reach for something to say to him to offer some platitude, a comfort in this moment. This isn't fair to him-- life never is, as a rule-- one leaving, and another falling asleep, leaving him like this. She shakes her head, for once having nothing to offer at present. Presumably, all who leave return to their worlds, but saying that won't be any comfort, because they are not here with him.
And if he wasn't here beside his father, she is certain he would be on his phone waiting and awake anyways, looing for his father's name to disappear from his contact list. ]
...Today, too?
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...Same day. I went to find him, but...
[He'd gone to his father's side during his vigil over Cor, to talk with him about it. The man has been missing his wife since his arrival, and while he and Luna never married, living together had been domestic enough that the feeling had to be similar, so Regis would understand this ache. He never knew Aulea, but the stories about her helped him forget, sometimes.
Only Regis had already been asleep when he arrived.]
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As for Luna, however... She struggles with what to say, and a few more moments in silence pass as she waits. ] She was... [ Like falling snow, and as delicate as moonlight. In the brief time Pyra had known her, she had gotten to see how strong she was as a person. ] Kind.
[ It’s a shame that that kindness has gone from this world; but, she is certain that same kindness has inspired so many back in her own. Pyra draws a breath. There is only one right thing she might say, if he won’t allow this luxury himself: ]
Take— take all the time that you need.
[ He should take all the time he needs. However long he might need. Training— he’s been doing so to become stronger, to protect those he loves. He’s mentioned he needs to be strong for something upcoming in his world. But right now? Training can wait, especially if it means pulling him from his father’s side, or him not processing this loss of a loved one. ]
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She's always been kind, ever since I met her. I could barely look at anyone back then, wouldn't talk... but she just smiled and took care of me. It was... the first time in forever that I felt like I mattered at all.
[It hadn't been too long before those days in Tenebrae that he'd been little more than a lonely brat, pretending he didn't care about anyone so it wouldn't hurt so much to be ignored by the one who should have loved him the most. But Luna... she gave him a place where he could feel safe and important, helped him to understand his duty and his future, limited in scope as it may have been at the time. Even after returning to Lucis, no matter what he was going through, the arrival of Umbra and their notebook always made him smile. As surely as his friends or his father, her support had been integral in forming him into the man he'd become, and he owed her so much. He'd tried to return the favour here, to support her and help her enjoy life outside of her duties, but... he doesn't know if it was enough. She's gone now, so it can't have been, right? He'd failed. Again, he'd failed her.
Just like he will in the future.]
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However.
How could a prince feel like he did not matter, even as a child? The royal life is not always as what it seems, yes, but this is surprising to hear. She won't dare voice this question, however, not when it might make the conversation sadder than it is. Besides, the point is that Luna-- Luna helped him. ]
You were... looking at the snow in quiet wonder, three months ago.
That's how you look at her.
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He thinks back to what Pyra had told him back then, what she's reminded him of multiple times since they met. He should have said more. There were so many things he'd wanted to tell her, so many things she must have wanted to say to him. How much time had they wasted on- on nothing? On sleeping or eating or just sitting together in silence, something he was comfortable with and that she never complained about but- what if it wasn't what she wanted?
What a fool he's been.]
I just... wanted to make her happy. She deserved it. She- she deserved so much, she's been giving and giving and giving her whole life. Why couldn't she have this? Just for a little while... why send her back, but not me? I don't get it.
[His life might've been twisted upside down that last summer back home, but her entire life has been a struggle, surely. Losing her mother to death and her brother to Niflheim, throwing herself into the Oracle duties constantly since she took up the mantle, travelling and healing. He played video games, attended a normal school, indulged in fishing trips, all while she was out there exhausting herself for the people who suffered in their world.
Didn't she earn her rest more than anyone? It isn't fair.]
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She does not know the answers to his questions: why her, not him? What the gods choose to do with those they summon here baffles her as well. Some stay briefly, others stay for months. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, no matter to determine who fades and who does not. To demand answers of the gods, however, is an entitlement she will not indulge herself, although she sees no harm in others questioning them. ]
I'm sure you made her very happy, in her time here. [ She has no doubt in her mind that he did. He underestimates himself in this way, too: the way he is a light to others, not by any intention on is part, but simply by being. It's clear he wants to be where Luna is. ]
And, ...when you see in her your world... you'll do the same there. Make her happy. [ For surely he will see her then, surely. Or, by some fate, she will return to Havenwell to be with him again. Whether that be with memories or not, she cannot say, but she does not wish to give him a false hope. ]
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He takes a shuddering breath, his gaze carefully averted, still fixed on his father's face.]
Changing the future... can be dangerous. It can make things worse. I know you don't... like the idea. [His voice is so faint, barely audible.] Do you think there's any exceptions? If you knew, absolutely, that it would be better if you did something different?
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He's asking because he wants to change something in his future? Or his fathers? Luna's? ] What do you mean?
[ More importantly, how would he know absolutely certainly what he would do would be better for his future, if he does not have the means to look into it himself. ]
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When I go back... I'll be in Altissia, for the trial of Leviathan. Luna's waiting for me there. But- something- I don't know what, something goes wrong, Cor told me she doesn't-
[The last words are choked out, far harder to acknowledge than her disappearance from this place. His hands unclasp only to lift and cover his face instead.]
I won't see her...
[He fails. He fails, and he loses her forever. And he's been trying and trying to think what he could do, how he could prevent it- he's been training and struggling to do better, be better, forced himself to wear the ring and learn magic that might save her. He's too weak, though, too slow. All that power and he's still scared that it isn't enough.
It all comes back to the one thought that keeps haunting him: there couldn't possibly be a future worse than the one without her in it.]
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Months ago, gathering the small lights within his heart, he had focused over and over again upon protecting them all, all of them he could try to save. Some kept on slipping from his grasp, falling from his fingers, but he tried, he tried, until he was exhausted. He will never be satisfied, knowing that Luna's light may be forever out of his reach... No, she had been in his reach. She had been here with him. Now she is gone back to her own world, where she will expire. Whether or not he recalls what he's learned here, it will be as if he's experiencing her loss twice over.
It's... cruel, and what she said just now, in her ignorance, must have only driven that knife into him further. ] Noct...
[ She starts again, as if to apologize, but in the end she brings a blanket up with one hand to drape it over them both. His father will be obscured form his line of sight, but they are here beneath it. If he doesn't want the world to see his frustration or his tears, then they will be hidden by this cover. She doesn't know if this will comfort him, but she tries. She tries. She tires to work in ways that may make him feel safe to express himself. ]
I... That's what you've been training for. To become strong enough to change her future.
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Who else is he going to fail to protect?]
...I wanted to. I tried... but I'm still too weak. It takes too long. I can't... I can't think of how...
[Just hearing that she'll die almost made him fall apart, that first time. The thought of asking for specifics had made him feel wretched, but no one else even knows. Their future selves were the only witnesses, so... it had to have been him. His failure.]
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Even now, he's struggling, thinking, frustrated with the great progress he has made and dismissing it as too little. Maybe it is too little, that he sees where he wants to be-- the wall of his father, the shadow Somnus casts, the rest of the kings-- and knows that he is not there. But he has gods, he has the ring now, and still it seems that it's not enough. She understands. Architect, she understands, and she only understood it when she was stolen down to the earth. Power: what good is it, if it cannot protect those one loves? It does not automatically grant control, and without that control over everything, it only feels more helpless.
She pulls him into her arms, careful of his back where the scars lie, and brings his head to her shoulder. One hand splays up the back of his head, tangling into his hair, and she-- holds him. That's all she does.
She wants to tell him it will be okay, she wants to reassure and comfort him... but she doesn't know. She can't agree with changing the future, not with so many uncertainties, not with any permission to glimpse into his, not without a want to, but to see him as upset as this-- that feeling of helplessness, she does not want him to ever experience it, ever again. He doesn't need that. ] It's.... not your fault.
Whatever happens, I'm sure. I'm sure, Noct, that it isn't your fault.
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Does it help in the end, to think like that? He's still not sure. Whether it's something he does or something he fails to do, she still dies regardless. A death caused by inaction is still blood on his hands and guilt on his conscience. He can't dismiss that, not when it's someone so dear to his heart.
He doesn't argue, though, even if he can't agree with her words. He doesn't want to fight this, he just doesn't want to lose her at all. When Pyra pulls him in he does not resist, merely bends to lean against her, eyes clenched, silently allowing his grief to pour out. And if she doesn't move, he'll stay like that for a while, until he's run out of tears to shed and is too exhausted to even cry anymore.
He wishes it made him feel better, but in truth he just feels more pitiful. He's not strong enough, even for this.]
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She continues to embrace him anyways, because-- Do you think there are any exceptions? --What a hypocrite she is. She won't help him. She can only hold him.
Pyra allows him to rest against her shoulder, holding him to her but not enough that he cannot move away from her or adjust if he so pleases. She wishes to facilitate, not to stifle. Only occasionally does her hand move against the back of his head, flatting out his hair in soft, smooth pats; another time, she repeats in a whisper: it's not your fault. And should he still be listening, she will also say: it hurts; I know, I know. I'm sorry.
When it seems that grief has passed, no matter how long it is, she loosens her embrace to draw somewhat away, moving to press her forehead against his. Just as when they had first met, she'll guide him, breathing with him, to usher in a calm. Her warmth is shared in their proximity beneath the blanket, but should he break away to meet her eyes, he'll see they're misting. ]
...Ah. Noct?
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[It's automatic, tired and a little embarrassed that he let himself do that. She's been so kind and patient, and all he's managed to do is snot all over her shoulder, probably. Wiping at his eyes, he draws back and tugs up the blanket a few inches, intent on checking on his father, but before he gets that far he catches sight of her and pauses.]
Pyra...?
[Is she crying, too? He hadn't meant to drag anyone into misery with him.]
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She's teared up, yes, but she doesn't seem bothered by it. It's not she who has lost anyone this day. It's not she who will have to face losing another in the future. ] ...You know it.
You know you're strong, still, alright?
[ She lifts her hand from his shoulder, up to his cheek. With a thumb she wipes over his skin, softly, as if she could say that she doesn't think any less of him for expressing his sadness in front of her. ]
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Instead he lowers his eyes, swallowing hard, and raises one hand to press it over the fingers on his cheek, quietly holding on for a long moment.]
...I'll... keep trying. I'll try to live up to that.
[He's used to high expectations; she makes it sound as if he's already achieved them. Even for all he has yet to do, even for his failings, what he's just admitted will come in the future, she can still look at him and say that. He feels unworthy, but so, so grateful for it.
"I won't let you down."
"I know you won't."
Luna believed in him, too. He won't dishonour her by simply laying down and giving up.]
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You won't be alone.
[ She might not be of his world, his family, or Luna, but she is here. She, and-- a number of others here, for him.
Then, she tugs at the blanket over them, offering a small smile. ] You can stay here, if you like. We can... talk about anything. Your father. Luna. Or not. Whatever you wish.
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He gives her hand a small squeeze, pondering her offer for a long moment. There's probably plenty that he could say, but he doesn't trust his voice, and too many of his stories about them are sad. Broken promises and shattered dreams, a long-distance friendship and longing over too many years apart. So much of what he'd hoped for, taken away by the Empire under false pretenses. The Tenebrae visit. The treaty. The wedding. Silly ideas about happy endings or holding on to what he loves, torn away from him. He'll fight for everything he has left, but... there's no guarantees yet.
Finally he closes his eyes, shaking his head. He can't.]
Not yet. Not... right now.
[Glancing over at her, his eyes faintly pleading, he whispers,]
Can you tell me something? Anything? Distract me...
[Just let him think about anything but what's threatening to slip between his fingers.]
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But first, it's time to become more comfortable. She moves, pivoting her body so that she's sitting alongside him again, so that he might lean against her if he chooses. Might as well become comfortable, she thinks, as she tugs the blanket down from their heads, letting it fall across their shoulders instead.
This also grants her some time to think. A story? A story. She does not know many, unfortunately, but she knows that he holds some interest in her world, so it'll have to be one from her own. ]
We call our continents Titans... but a long, long time ago, they were once referred to as Divine Beasts. [ She starts out slowly, her voice soft as if recounting an old folktale. ] The people worshiped them. Festivals in the spring, festivals in the summer, the fall, the winter... Whatever the Titans gave, they would honor in return.
Millennia ago, a great empire arose called Regideria, and among their kings was one named... Dagas. [ Here, a small smile forms upon her lips, as if she's recounting something amusing. This is a story told to children, one that is meant to be entertaining. ]
Dagas was an arrogant man. His definition of strength came in two brands only: the way in which he could swing his greataxe, and the swift manner by means he could crush unclaimed provinces beneath his foot. [ She continues as if crafting a caricature of him, making him pompous, prideful. ] It's said that he had a very, very boastful laugh, one that could shake the very mountains of the Titans or awaken just about anything from their slumber. Mice, insects, people... and even slumbering beasts.
"Ha, ha, ha!" [ Why, yes, she draws out the ha in a staggered, theatrical laugh. ] "There is no foe I cannot slay! Revere my strength!"
[ What would be come of Dagas? Tune in to the next part of the story. ]
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That's a pretty good evil laugh. You should do voices in cartoons. [It's almost a joke! Consider him mostly distracted, even if one-half of his misery is still right in front of his eyes.] Let me guess, he wanted to fight the Titans, too?
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Oh, ...how did you guess! [ She shifts her head, angling so that she might glimpse some of his face.
While she does pout a bit, she doesn't seem at all upset, however. ]
Noct, that was supposed to be the bizarre and comedic twist to this story.
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Yeah, I'm a bad listener. Ask... Iggy.
[Not his father, which had been his first impulse before he'd caught himself.]
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[ One look at his neutral expression tells her that he’s still in need of a distraction, but is it worth finishing this story? ]
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