[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.]
[He barely hears it; her tone is enough to reassure him, and seconds later he's out, breath evening out in sleep. Whatever else happens, at least for the moment, she's given him exactly what he needs.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
Mm...?
[He's listening! Totally! But maybe some of those qualms about sleeping are beginning to falter, so act fast.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[ An affirmation. She will. ]
no subject
no subject
She will wait until he wakes, and when he does, only then will she leave for him to resume his watch until he's relieved. ]