[ 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.]
[ Oh, phew, looks like he's still interested, even if he's already called the plot point. That's all she needs to continue! ] At the time, though, Dagas’ pride was absurd! How could he dare challenge a Titan? The people worshiped them, all those millennia ago. Declaring that he could fight one of the Great Continents was the equivalent to saying he could challenge the Architect himself!
[ A pause. ]
Well. Maybe in your world that is not so absurd... seeing as you went though the Astrals’ trials. But in ours, Dagas was seen as pompous and reckless.
[ Aaaaanooother pause. ]
O-oh, not that I’m saying you’re reckless, either! [ Then again, she recalls how ready he was to fight a monster when they left the barrier. Where was she going with this... Right. Ahem. Anyway. ]
The story goes that he never ended up fighting the Titans; it would be like challenging a mountainside and expecting it to accept a duel in return. However, his boastful laughter did end up waking an awful, fell beast within the continent... to which he lost his life. [ Her shoulders rise and fall against his, in what could be a shrug. ] And so ends the tragic tale of Dagas. [ Lesson of the story: don't be too prideful! ]
[ She nods at that, changing her tone to be more dramatically wistful and musing. ] To this day, they say that none have slain the beast, and that it still roams Temperantia's back....
[ And it seems that... Noctis won't be laughing any time in the near future.
Her lips purse in a pause before she speaks again. Even speaking of that much of her world is quite a bit, which makes her effectively a poor story-teller. She left a good bit out of that story. The continent Dagas' kingdom was on is now a charred wasteland, courtesy herself. ]
[ She waits for his eyes to close, and he'll feel her hands go about his shoulder to pull him towards her, pivoting his torso, lowering him...
So that his head is now in her lap. There. Better. This is the first thing she had ever asked him-- all the way back when they first met. He had been too shy then to accept, even if he had been dozing upon the bench just before. She had thought, then, how peaceful this place must have been, to have a youth sleeping so soundly out in the open, in broad daylight.
Now, that same young man appears even more tired than he had ever been back then, yet refuses to sleep even in the safest, most peaceful portions of the temples. He either needs a distraction or rest; doing this might give one, the other, or both. Her voice comes softly, ] You do not need to sleep... But I do think you need some rest. [ Even if it's just resting his head down! ]
[He could definitely fall asleep like this, whether she allowed it or not. It's weird, though... or rather, it's not weird. The position, that is. Months ago he'd be sitting up and objecting, mumbling excuses, making stupid assumptions about her intent. Now he knows it's just... Pyra. Being Pyra. And being kind, of course, her concern for him obvious even if she hadn't spoken it aloud. Ultimately a harmless act done not to get anything out of it except the satisfaction of helping someone, or helping the gods.
He sighs faintly, resigning himself to his (not unhappy) fate, and closes his eyes.]
[ With him settled upon her lap, she lifts a hand, dusting her fingertips along his forehead. The motion scarcely brushes aside his long bangs. ]
You have.
...In more ways than one.
[ With touch, sure, but also with his magic, his power, with this, with trusting a piece of that magic to her.
Without the one he loves here, and a father on the cusp of fading from this world, she imagines it may seem as if all is falling apart. However, he’s been making himself stronger this entire time. Perhaps... his growth will help. Perhaps.
[ As if she'd tell him not to be sad, much less that he should think he shouldn't be. Her hand continues to comb along his bangs, in a way she hopes might be soothing.
Yet he surprises her. He doesn't do something like this with anyone? She doubts it, somehow. Surely he rested his head on Luna's lap, or shared his power with her. Knowing how much he cares for her, she would find it surprising that if he did not offer Luna the same so that she might be able to protect herself. ]
Mm, that's right. You used to be so... shy. [ She speaks fondly, as if recounting a memory. ] Just with holding hands. [ Her hand pauses over the top of his head, lifting up one strand of his soft hair between her thumb and index finger, as if raising a curtain to look at him. ] But that's only one way in which you grew.
[With the curtain of his bangs pulled away, she can see that his eyes closed, his brow is furrowed and lips pursed, still wrestling between feeling the stress and letting himself relax against her.]
Would be nice if I could actually grow. I'd like to gain a few inches by the time Gladio shows up.
[If he ever does. Sometimes it's easier to assume and just wait for something good to happen than to resign himself to living without. It's how he intends to endure Luna's absence, or at least pretend to, for the foreseeable future.
He stirs a little as she brushes her hand through his hair.]
[ What else feels good to him, besides idly running her fingers just barely of his forehead and bangs? Sleep, most likely.... but she isn't intending to tempt him off to sleep, just rest. So, she continues to speak with him.
...And she knows that he knows she meant her words in a way that isn't physical for his growth. His response earns a small chuckle that comes out more like a sigh. ] I should be saying that, myself.
Your hair doesn't feel as spikey as it appears. [ Saying so, she lets the strands fall from her fingers to his forehead, only to repeat the process. Her touch starts midline before brushing to the side of his head. It's repetitive, like the chorus to a lullaby. ]
[ Her fingers pause over his forehead briefly, and then she resumes a pattern of soft, fond and warm strokes through his hair, now trailing toward what access she has of the crown of his head.
This is the first she’s heard him speak of his mother. ]
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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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[Her pause makes him regret speaking up, though, and interrupting her story, so he finally looks back at her, uncertain, expectant. Keep going?]
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[ A pause. ]
Well. Maybe in your world that is not so absurd... seeing as you went though the Astrals’ trials. But in ours, Dagas was seen as pompous and reckless.
[ Aaaaanooother pause. ]
O-oh, not that I’m saying you’re reckless, either! [ Then again, she recalls how ready he was to fight a monster when they left the barrier. Where was she going with this... Right. Ahem. Anyway. ]
The story goes that he never ended up fighting the Titans; it would be like challenging a mountainside and expecting it to accept a duel in return. However, his boastful laughter did end up waking an awful, fell beast within the continent... to which he lost his life. [ Her shoulders rise and fall against his, in what could be a shrug. ] And so ends the tragic tale of Dagas. [ Lesson of the story: don't be too prideful! ]
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It's fine, you can call it like you see it.
[He's reckless sometimes! It happens. Part of being young, or something like that. This isn't the worst way he's ever had it implied to him.]
Sounds like the beast got the last, um, laugh.
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[ S P O O K Y. ]
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Don't laugh too loudly wherever that is, in other words.
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Her lips purse in a pause before she speaks again. Even speaking of that much of her world is quite a bit, which makes her effectively a poor story-teller. She left a good bit out of that story. The continent Dagas' kingdom was on is now a charred wasteland, courtesy herself. ]
Noct.
I have an idea, but you must close your eyes.
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[Not the weirdest thing Pyra's ever asked of him. He closes his eyes for a moment, then reopens one-]
Don't let me fall asleep.
[Okay, closing for real now.]
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So that his head is now in her lap. There. Better. This is the first thing she had ever asked him-- all the way back when they first met. He had been too shy then to accept, even if he had been dozing upon the bench just before. She had thought, then, how peaceful this place must have been, to have a youth sleeping so soundly out in the open, in broad daylight.
Now, that same young man appears even more tired than he had ever been back then, yet refuses to sleep even in the safest, most peaceful portions of the temples. He either needs a distraction or rest; doing this might give one, the other, or both. Her voice comes softly, ] You do not need to sleep... But I do think you need some rest. [ Even if it's just resting his head down! ]
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[He could definitely fall asleep like this, whether she allowed it or not. It's weird, though... or rather, it's not weird. The position, that is. Months ago he'd be sitting up and objecting, mumbling excuses, making stupid assumptions about her intent. Now he knows it's just... Pyra. Being Pyra. And being kind, of course, her concern for him obvious even if she hadn't spoken it aloud. Ultimately a harmless act done not to get anything out of it except the satisfaction of helping someone, or helping the gods.
He sighs faintly, resigning himself to his (not unhappy) fate, and closes his eyes.]
Come a long way, huh?
[He hasn't forgotten that day, either.]
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You have.
...In more ways than one.
[ With touch, sure, but also with his magic, his power, with this, with trusting a piece of that magic to her.
Without the one he loves here, and a father on the cusp of fading from this world, she imagines it may seem as if all is falling apart. However, he’s been making himself stronger this entire time. Perhaps... his growth will help. Perhaps.
She continues, gently teasing in her tone: ]
I can list them all, if you like.
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[Add on a new one... King of Sadsacks.]
I think I can guess without the reminder. I meant both of us, though. Like...
[He gestures somewhat unhelpfully- to her, to him, to the both of them sitting like this.]
Don't really do this kind of thing with anybody. Or share my power. Yet here we are.
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Yet he surprises her. He doesn't do something like this with anyone? She doubts it, somehow. Surely he rested his head on Luna's lap, or shared his power with her. Knowing how much he cares for her, she would find it surprising that if he did not offer Luna the same so that she might be able to protect herself. ]
Mm, that's right. You used to be so... shy. [ She speaks fondly, as if recounting a memory. ] Just with holding hands. [ Her hand pauses over the top of his head, lifting up one strand of his soft hair between her thumb and index finger, as if raising a curtain to look at him. ] But that's only one way in which you grew.
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Would be nice if I could actually grow. I'd like to gain a few inches by the time Gladio shows up.
[If he ever does. Sometimes it's easier to assume and just wait for something good to happen than to resign himself to living without. It's how he intends to endure Luna's absence, or at least pretend to, for the foreseeable future.
He stirs a little as she brushes her hand through his hair.]
...Feels nice.
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...And she knows that he knows she meant her words in a way that isn't physical for his growth. His response earns a small chuckle that comes out more like a sigh. ] I should be saying that, myself.
Your hair doesn't feel as spikey as it appears. [ Saying so, she lets the strands fall from her fingers to his forehead, only to repeat the process. Her touch starts midline before brushing to the side of his head. It's repetitive, like the chorus to a lullaby. ]
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[His voice is sleepy, on the brink of dozing off, but talking helps so he fights it.]
People used to say I look like my mom. Her hair looked pretty soft.
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This is the first she’s heard him speak of his mother. ]
What was she like...?
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