[ When Honerva finishes speaking, she nods in silence.
Hopes is what she needs to retain, and it's hope that augments her selfish desire to say, when she fears that it would be best to distance herself....
It just never seems like enough. The one she loves is hurt by many things-- every month, every month, without pause or break or time for him to catch his breath or regain his bearings, and always with something pushing him back down to crumble... And she never wants to be a part of that pain or an extra source for it, unwittingly or not. If there is some way for her to give him a little happiness, she wants to. Happiness, joy, love and not pain, but it never seems like it's enough, even if she sorely wishes to believe. (And she feels awful for bringing up her upset at the wedding before.) She feels as if she is fighting against a terrible luck or fate that constantly makes him miserable. It must be exhausting for him...
Her expression knots into a wince, and she buckles slightly forward. ] Hope.
Hope is good. I'll follow it to the future. I promise.
[ As for the loved others might carry to herself. Quite suddenly, she's not so sure anymore-- or, no, she's sure they'll say it. But is it right for them to feel such ways, when she hurts them? ]
[ Gently, she gives her a small squeeze, rubbing her back still. ]
... It is okay to need reminders as well. Hope can sometimes feel... far off, in the moment. Especially at times like this, when the reminders all seem dark and so much more dangerous instead.
[ Pyra's way of making promises is solemn, but Honerva also knows how difficult it is, to maintain time and again, especially if something dips too low, the fear that comes and takes hold, but balance, as much of a contentious word it was, was applicable. To taking heart from the lighter moments that almost seem impossible to maintain genuinely, to be dragged down by the latter, and to hope the highs and lows aren't so extreme anymore, to feel that one outweighs the other. ]
[ She need only remind herself that what she's experiencing is nothing so terrible as the pain either Ardyn or Noctis must have endured, to say nothing of Noctis' near-death experience. If she has to overcome this, she needs to be stronger for them, to not show such weakness,.... and, once more, to not have something like this happen again (something she keeps on telling herself, but it keeps on happening). But if those weaknesses occur... --reminders. Yes. There are reminders to be strong for them again. ]
Thank you, Honerva. I feel better. [ She manages a meager, weak smile, but a smile to show that she is trying. ]
[ She doesn't quite believe her. No one with that much guilt is that easily reassured, and certainly not from someone like Honerva. She's known Pyra enough to know when she's suddenly agreeing to what is being said against her own wishes that it's only to keep someone off her back.
But there is little she can do for that. Honerva well knows in these sorts of times that she is not enough. ]
Perhaps in the coming days, when you can see them improve for yourself, the hope will feel real to you again.
[ Her smile remains. Trying, for now, is the best she can do at this point as Noctis recovers, and she needs to be as if she's fine, because she knows he, too, has a habit of pushing away how he feels. She doesn't want it to be like that, and in order to have him feel as if can be honest, she needs to be stronger. Holding hope is a part of that.
But no one, not even herself, ever said it was easy. It's a matter of being there and reassuring the other regardless, just as Pyra has done for Honerva before, and just as Honerva is doing for her for now. She need only push through the worst of it... and see where she washes up.
She leans her head upon Honerva's shoulder, repeating-- this time, with more meaning, ] Thank you, Honerva.
[ Pyra smiles gratefully to her. Honerva has seen through her-- she feels poorly, quite desperately so, in fact-- and what she does is offer further assistance should it happen again.
She's sorry it might happen again, when it shouldn't. But there are those here to at least hold her hand, and for that... she is grateful, too.
Pyra's eyes open, then close again as her vision mists, but her voice carries a bit more warmth to it. ] Thank you, Honerva.
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Hopes is what she needs to retain, and it's hope that augments her selfish desire to say, when she fears that it would be best to distance herself....
It just never seems like enough. The one she loves is hurt by many things-- every month, every month, without pause or break or time for him to catch his breath or regain his bearings, and always with something pushing him back down to crumble... And she never wants to be a part of that pain or an extra source for it, unwittingly or not. If there is some way for her to give him a little happiness, she wants to. Happiness, joy, love and not pain, but it never seems like it's enough, even if she sorely wishes to believe. (And she feels awful for bringing up her upset at the wedding before.) She feels as if she is fighting against a terrible luck or fate that constantly makes him miserable. It must be exhausting for him...
Her expression knots into a wince, and she buckles slightly forward. ] Hope.
Hope is good. I'll follow it to the future. I promise.
[ As for the loved others might carry to herself. Quite suddenly, she's not so sure anymore-- or, no, she's sure they'll say it. But is it right for them to feel such ways, when she hurts them? ]
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... It is okay to need reminders as well. Hope can sometimes feel... far off, in the moment. Especially at times like this, when the reminders all seem dark and so much more dangerous instead.
[ Pyra's way of making promises is solemn, but Honerva also knows how difficult it is, to maintain time and again, especially if something dips too low, the fear that comes and takes hold, but balance, as much of a contentious word it was, was applicable. To taking heart from the lighter moments that almost seem impossible to maintain genuinely, to be dragged down by the latter, and to hope the highs and lows aren't so extreme anymore, to feel that one outweighs the other. ]
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Thank you, Honerva. I feel better. [ She manages a meager, weak smile, but a smile to show that she is trying. ]
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But there is little she can do for that. Honerva well knows in these sorts of times that she is not enough. ]
Perhaps in the coming days, when you can see them improve for yourself, the hope will feel real to you again.
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But no one, not even herself, ever said it was easy. It's a matter of being there and reassuring the other regardless, just as Pyra has done for Honerva before, and just as Honerva is doing for her for now. She need only push through the worst of it... and see where she washes up.
She leans her head upon Honerva's shoulder, repeating-- this time, with more meaning, ] Thank you, Honerva.
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She'd been on the other side of it far too often of late. ]
... You're welcome, Pyra.
[ She says, with soft exhale, though she does not let go just yet, offering another gentle squeeze. ]
Should you... feel this poorly again, please... do contact me.
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She's sorry it might happen again, when it shouldn't. But there are those here to at least hold her hand, and for that... she is grateful, too.
Pyra's eyes open, then close again as her vision mists, but her voice carries a bit more warmth to it. ] Thank you, Honerva.