[ 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. ]
[Which sounds sadder than it is, probably, but his tone is no more grieved by the words than he'd been feeling already. Easier to talk about a woman he lost but never knew than Luna.
His eyes do open and flit towards his father though, to make sure the man still lies sleeping. Regis doesn't yet know, and what a terrible thing that would be to wake up hearing, that your wife is gone so young.]
I saw photos, we have the same eyes. She had this look- like she was kind, but she could kick anybody's ass if she had to. I made up stories sometimes about her.
[ Is it safe to continue this topic, she wonders. He's lost not one but both parents, and while she has lost loved ones herself, the loss of a parent is not one she could ever know herself. The title she gives her Father is no more familial than a a rock calling a mountain their parent.
Kind but righteous to what she believed in. In other words, she was-- ] Just. It seems she was just.
Just... I like it. That's the name of that shield I got before the trip outside- the Shield of the Just. She was a queen, too.
[How fitting, that it should be one of his favourites. One of the few Royal Arms that gives life, instead of only taking it away. His mom, the first to give him life, would surely appreciate the connection.]
[ Aulea. It’s a lovely name, and repeating it in her mind doesn’t honor how melodically it resounds when he speaks it aloud. ]
I had wondered where you obtained that shield... [ The Just. So that had been the shield he had used outside the barrier— that solves that question. ] ...and from whom you got your eyes.
They’re very... beautiful, you know. [ Like Somnus’ of course. There’s no denying their likeness, their color, perhaps their shine. Yet for Pyra their likeness stops there. Her fingers lightly pat his head. ] When you look in the mirror, I hope you see her beauty in you.
[She really was a beautiful woman. And while he's not sure if his manly pride is keen on the descriptor (he gets enough of those sorts of jokes from Gladio, thanks) he's not so petty that he doesn't get her meaning. Pyra doesn't say that kind of thing as a snipe against him, she truly means it. She probably finds everyone beautiful in some way.]
...I always liked that thought, though. Like I got to carry a piece of her around with me. All I had to do was exist and people would remember her, even if I didn't.
[ If his mother was at all kind, then he's inherited that from her, too. He has a legacy of not only light, it seems, but of nobility and justness, dutifulness. She's see the same in Somnus.
Thinking of light in the context of righteousness remind her of something else-- and a brief pause of the fingers running through his hair might give away that she's become slightly distracted. However, she resumes not even a second later. ]
Now I'm curious of whatever stories you made of her. [ She smiles and huffs. ] Don't tell me-- she was a troublemaker like you. [ Not that he is a troublemaker, in her eyes, but she can't help the light ribbing. ]
[It's fine, Pyra, he knows he is. And those words make him scoff quietly, a tiny, bittersweet smile crossing his lips.]
I didn't need to make up that part... the way some people talked, you'd think she'd been single-handedly destroying royal society from the inside. Dad waited until his father died just to marry her. She made trouble everywhere she went. Very, um. Formative, for me.
[He actually sounds pretty proud of this- like, heck yeah! He's a troublemaker like Mom. Even if she's teasing, he carries no embarrassment for it.]
[ She had been teasing, but it turns out she was right! It's unexpected enough that it earns Noctis a small surprised oh from Pyra, before her smile resumes after a giggle.
She's only starting to get the feeling that between all the royalty she's met of Eos, Somnus is quite traditional in comparison. This somehow amuses her; how times must have changed after two millennia. ]
If I didn't know better, it almost sounds as if you're saying she was scandalous!
[It makes sense that he'd be traditional- as the Founder King, many traditions started with him, and he'd observed so many others come and go. But for the last king living in the modern age, Noctis has less attachments to those pointless formalities. A king should rule as needed, not based on only the past.
Not that it matters here- and not that he has to worry about being king, with his father alive again.]
She definitely earned herself a reputation, or so I've heard. The ones who actually matter didn't mind, though.
[ The ones who actually matter-- like his father, specifically. ]
Do you know what this tells me, Noct?
[ She leans forward, over him a bit to smile down at him as she jokes, ] That you don't just have a legacy of light to uphold, but being unconventional. Like both of your parents.
Unconventional... I think that's a legacy I could live with.
[Certainly one his parents would be proud of, at least. The idea of being a traditionalist after the way that he was raised just doesn't sit well with him.]
[ No reason that being unconventional and having a legacy can't go hand in hand! He could just go about his legacy in a different way. A kingly way that suits more of himself, than others before him. ]
Mm... from all that I've seen of you, [ She keeps her tone playfully light, but she leans back upon the palm of her hand. ] I think you're already well on your way to forging that legacy.
[ Jokingly, ] Has any other king made a video game before? [ DIDNT THINK SO. ]
I'm pretty sure any other king would consider that to be a waste of time. And then tell me as much, repeatedly.
[Though even Pyra herself had questioned him multiple times, while they worked on it- whether he should be doing something else, or spending time with different people. Sometimes there's no escaping what he should or shouldn't be prioritizing with his time.
Admittedly, that has yet to stop him from doing mostly what he pleases, but he'd be happier if people stopped trying to shove it down his throat.]
[ As she had leaned back, her gaze had lifted to the sleeping figure upon the temple-provided bed.
Ultimately... it had been his choice. And it is a sore spot for her-- should she have encouraged him more to train, should she have been more insistent on that? Should she have limited the amount of hours she had spent with him on that couch or the cafe, going over the intricacies and design of the game? But he had looked so happy as they had worked upon the video game together, and the gods here know how weak she is to others' happiness in the moment.
But his answer tugs at something sentimental within her. Closing her eyes, she lets out a soft sigh as if he's somehow said something that's brought her much relief. ] I'm... glad. That you don't think of it as a waste of time. I had been worried.
[He's not surprised by those words, though he wished she didn't think them. In a way, this feels familiar- not the same, but the comment reminds him of that one night on a motel roof with Prompto, listening to his fears and insecurities about not being good enough, about not belonging.
"Thanks for making time for this loser."
He hates the idea that his friends might think that- that some divine destiny or his title or even just his own sense of self-grandeur would cause someone to believe that he should be doing anything other than hanging out with them. Maybe there are days when that's partially true, that he should be doing something more important. But it's his call to make and no one else's. They shouldn't be ranking themselves as lesser, for any reason.]
Nothing we do together is wasted time. Try and remember that.
[ Now it sounds as if he is the one comforting her. That shouldn’t be, not right now. She hadn’t meant for him to be concerned about her own doubts.
Her fingers continue to brush tenderly over his forehead. Quietly: ]
I’m only... sad. That I couldn’t have supported you more. [ —more in the sense of his training. That, perhaps, this loss of Luna, knowing that she returns to her death, would have been a little bit easier for him. Not that she is keen on changing any future, but that maybe more training, more preparedness would have given him a little more hope; and that spending more time with Luna instead of her would have spared a little more guilt and self-blame.
But she is reassured by his words. ] But thank you, Noct... I agree.
Every moment with you is precious. [ Whether it’s training or video game building or otherwise. ]
[What more could she have done? What more could anyone have done, besides him? She'd even been the one to tell him not to take the people here for granted, to be honest with his feelings. He'd tried, he really had, but... it was hard. You can't rush these things.
Well, here he is, trying again, with those who are still left. All he can do is keep trying, as long as he's here. And... maybe, when he goes back... if he can save Luna, if he can at least see her again, he won't feel the need to hold back his heart.
He holds his hand up towards her, closing his eyes again.]
[ She takes the hand that he lifts to her, supporting it in her own. His hands are no more calloused than usual, but no softer either. He's been keeping up with his training. She imagines that there are no more scars upon him than what she had seen before. In the trial that awaits if he ever finds a way to him homeworld, she wonders if he'll have any more if he should return...
She watches him close his eyes. Perhaps he is about to sleep; it's likely he knows he, too, is about to drift into sleep, but he seems that he has no current complaints. In the moments that follow she is quiet, not disturbing him as he rests his eyes.
Then, softly, almost as if to test if sleep has finally take him or if he is merely on the cusp, she whispers: ]
...There is a... proverb in my world, that I wish to share with you.
[ If or if not he sleeps, if or if not he stirs or responds, she waits. ]
[ Her touch becomes slower over his forehead, the warmth of her fingertips not unlike the lazy descent of an afternoon tide. She had purposely waited for the exact moment he might be on the precipice of drifting off to sleep, for perhaps there would be a chance he might not remember these words, this secret. Perhaps he would think that this is some sort of dream. She won't know. A part of her wants him to hear. Another part does not. Thus in her hesitation, her stalling still, she will leave it be to chance whether he will recall these final words before his own dreams take him.
In a whisper that is no greater than a pindrop, she utters, ]
Iustorum autem [ Her fingers trail back to his forehead-- ] ...semita [ --then stroke to the side of his head-- ] ...quasi lux splendens... [ --and finally back to his bangs. ]
The path of the righteous is as the light of dawn. [ There is more to this proverb, but she ends it there.
It's always struck her as peculiar, how the names of his world seem to share similarities to a dead language from the first version of her universe. Hearing their names brings her such quiet nostalgia, often times. It's part of the reason why she smiles why she greets them, why she says their names so often.
This proverb is written upon her. For the future, a reminder where she belongs. But she thinks-- she thinks this might apply to him, too. Whatever he does, however he does it-- it will be righteous so long as it brings about that dawn in the future for all to have. And while her own world is not shrouded in an eternal night, she, too, seeks a dawn where others might see it. ]
[He too finds it peculiar, but is too sleepy in this state to truly unpack it. Whether he remembers it or not later is a mixed bag, but for the moment, the words are... very curious. If the memory sticks he can ask her later.
He's quiet for a long moment again, half-dozing, but manages to rouse himself one last time at the last second to ask, softly,]
Will you be here?
[Maybe... it's okay to sleep, if he doesn't wake up alone again. Just for a little while.]
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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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[Which sounds sadder than it is, probably, but his tone is no more grieved by the words than he'd been feeling already. Easier to talk about a woman he lost but never knew than Luna.
His eyes do open and flit towards his father though, to make sure the man still lies sleeping. Regis doesn't yet know, and what a terrible thing that would be to wake up hearing, that your wife is gone so young.]
I saw photos, we have the same eyes. She had this look- like she was kind, but she could kick anybody's ass if she had to. I made up stories sometimes about her.
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Kind but righteous to what she believed in. In other words, she was-- ] Just. It seems she was just.
[ ... ]
What was her name?
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[How fitting, that it should be one of his favourites. One of the few Royal Arms that gives life, instead of only taking it away. His mom, the first to give him life, would surely appreciate the connection.]
Her name was Aulea.
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I had wondered where you obtained that shield... [ The Just. So that had been the shield he had used outside the barrier— that solves that question. ] ...and from whom you got your eyes.
They’re very... beautiful, you know. [ Like Somnus’ of course. There’s no denying their likeness, their color, perhaps their shine. Yet for Pyra their likeness stops there. Her fingers lightly pat his head. ] When you look in the mirror, I hope you see her beauty in you.
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[She really was a beautiful woman. And while he's not sure if his manly pride is keen on the descriptor (he gets enough of those sorts of jokes from Gladio, thanks) he's not so petty that he doesn't get her meaning. Pyra doesn't say that kind of thing as a snipe against him, she truly means it. She probably finds everyone beautiful in some way.]
...I always liked that thought, though. Like I got to carry a piece of her around with me. All I had to do was exist and people would remember her, even if I didn't.
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Thinking of light in the context of righteousness remind her of something else-- and a brief pause of the fingers running through his hair might give away that she's become slightly distracted. However, she resumes not even a second later. ]
Now I'm curious of whatever stories you made of her. [ She smiles and huffs. ] Don't tell me-- she was a troublemaker like you. [ Not that he is a troublemaker, in her eyes, but she can't help the light ribbing. ]
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I didn't need to make up that part... the way some people talked, you'd think she'd been single-handedly destroying royal society from the inside. Dad waited until his father died just to marry her. She made trouble everywhere she went. Very, um. Formative, for me.
[He actually sounds pretty proud of this- like, heck yeah! He's a troublemaker like Mom. Even if she's teasing, he carries no embarrassment for it.]
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She's only starting to get the feeling that between all the royalty she's met of Eos, Somnus is quite traditional in comparison. This somehow amuses her; how times must have changed after two millennia. ]
If I didn't know better, it almost sounds as if you're saying she was scandalous!
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Not that it matters here- and not that he has to worry about being king, with his father alive again.]
She definitely earned herself a reputation, or so I've heard. The ones who actually matter didn't mind, though.
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Do you know what this tells me, Noct?
[ She leans forward, over him a bit to smile down at him as she jokes, ] That you don't just have a legacy of light to uphold, but being unconventional. Like both of your parents.
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[Certainly one his parents would be proud of, at least. The idea of being a traditionalist after the way that he was raised just doesn't sit well with him.]
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Mm... from all that I've seen of you, [ She keeps her tone playfully light, but she leans back upon the palm of her hand. ] I think you're already well on your way to forging that legacy.
[ Jokingly, ] Has any other king made a video game before? [ DIDNT THINK SO. ]
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[Though even Pyra herself had questioned him multiple times, while they worked on it- whether he should be doing something else, or spending time with different people. Sometimes there's no escaping what he should or shouldn't be prioritizing with his time.
Admittedly, that has yet to stop him from doing mostly what he pleases, but he'd be happier if people stopped trying to shove it down his throat.]
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Ultimately... it had been his choice. And it is a sore spot for her-- should she have encouraged him more to train, should she have been more insistent on that? Should she have limited the amount of hours she had spent with him on that couch or the cafe, going over the intricacies and design of the game? But he had looked so happy as they had worked upon the video game together, and the gods here know how weak she is to others' happiness in the moment.
But his answer tugs at something sentimental within her. Closing her eyes, she lets out a soft sigh as if he's somehow said something that's brought her much relief. ] I'm... glad. That you don't think of it as a waste of time. I had been worried.
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[He's not surprised by those words, though he wished she didn't think them. In a way, this feels familiar- not the same, but the comment reminds him of that one night on a motel roof with Prompto, listening to his fears and insecurities about not being good enough, about not belonging.
"Thanks for making time for this loser."
He hates the idea that his friends might think that- that some divine destiny or his title or even just his own sense of self-grandeur would cause someone to believe that he should be doing anything other than hanging out with them. Maybe there are days when that's partially true, that he should be doing something more important. But it's his call to make and no one else's. They shouldn't be ranking themselves as lesser, for any reason.]
Nothing we do together is wasted time. Try and remember that.
[Friends are important, too.]
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Her fingers continue to brush tenderly over his forehead. Quietly: ]
I’m only... sad. That I couldn’t have supported you more. [ —more in the sense of his training. That, perhaps, this loss of Luna, knowing that she returns to her death, would have been a little bit easier for him. Not that she is keen on changing any future, but that maybe more training, more preparedness would have given him a little more hope; and that spending more time with Luna instead of her would have spared a little more guilt and self-blame.
But she is reassured by his words. ] But thank you, Noct... I agree.
Every moment with you is precious. [ Whether it’s training or video game building or otherwise. ]
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[What more could she have done? What more could anyone have done, besides him? She'd even been the one to tell him not to take the people here for granted, to be honest with his feelings. He'd tried, he really had, but... it was hard. You can't rush these things.
Well, here he is, trying again, with those who are still left. All he can do is keep trying, as long as he's here. And... maybe, when he goes back... if he can save Luna, if he can at least see her again, he won't feel the need to hold back his heart.
He holds his hand up towards her, closing his eyes again.]
Here's to... many more moments.
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She watches him close his eyes. Perhaps he is about to sleep; it's likely he knows he, too, is about to drift into sleep, but he seems that he has no current complaints. In the moments that follow she is quiet, not disturbing him as he rests his eyes.
Then, softly, almost as if to test if sleep has finally take him or if he is merely on the cusp, she whispers: ]
...There is a... proverb in my world, that I wish to share with you.
[ If or if not he sleeps, if or if not he stirs or responds, she waits. ]
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Mm...?
[He's listening! Totally! But maybe some of those qualms about sleeping are beginning to falter, so act fast.]
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In a whisper that is no greater than a pindrop, she utters, ]
Iustorum autem [ Her fingers trail back to his forehead-- ] ...semita [ --then stroke to the side of his head-- ] ...quasi lux splendens... [ --and finally back to his bangs. ]
The path of the righteous is as the light of dawn. [ There is more to this proverb, but she ends it there.
It's always struck her as peculiar, how the names of his world seem to share similarities to a dead language from the first version of her universe. Hearing their names brings her such quiet nostalgia, often times. It's part of the reason why she smiles why she greets them, why she says their names so often.
This proverb is written upon her. For the future, a reminder where she belongs. But she thinks-- she thinks this might apply to him, too. Whatever he does, however he does it-- it will be righteous so long as it brings about that dawn in the future for all to have. And while her own world is not shrouded in an eternal night, she, too, seeks a dawn where others might see it. ]
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[He too finds it peculiar, but is too sleepy in this state to truly unpack it. Whether he remembers it or not later is a mixed bag, but for the moment, the words are... very curious. If the memory sticks he can ask her later.
He's quiet for a long moment again, half-dozing, but manages to rouse himself one last time at the last second to ask, softly,]
Will you be here?
[Maybe... it's okay to sleep, if he doesn't wake up alone again. Just for a little while.]
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[ An affirmation. She will. ]
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