meridio | (Awash & Hugtopia) IC contact

[ Her fingers leave his chest, but her other hand still remains in his. Finding her balance, she continues to gaze at him. ]

Not only that, but the way you use it and...

And the reason you use it.

[ For the world, for the future. His magical prowess and the source is incredible... but she cannot ask after it (not Somnus, at least). But even among those without power, it’s all about the ways and the hows in which they use it. ]

May I see your sword once more?

[ The reason is the future—something that mesmerizes Pyra so. He understands, in part. Power in the wrong hands is useless and wasteful, if not harmful.

Wordlessly, he steps back and summons his blade. He brings it up and lets go, allowing gravity to drop the tip toward the ground before he catches it by the hilt and holds it there, upright, for her viewing. ]

[ Enchanted by the way the blade reforms out of nothing but light into solid, masterfully crafted metal, she continues to stand in awe of it...

Questions form in her mind about the sword, and he'll see them dancing within her eyes, as if they are just ready to leap off of her tongue. How is it that he's wielding it with one hand? Who made it, why was it made? To just protect--? But it's gorgeous for a weapon, decorated, almost appearing as if it should only be used in ceremonies. Why is there only one wing at the handle, and what does it symbolize? Who taught him how to wield it-- let alone wield it alongside the power he also has? His parents, perhaps? Parents that wanted him to be able to protect himself, who held him while he was young and hoped the world for him--

A world's future that he now protects with this blade, ages-removed from whoever it is that raised him; and with this same blade, he has also protected himself and others... for over millennia.

No, she cannot ask these questions. Not when he does not enjoy reminiscing. Her curiosity should not override his comfort.

She steps forward, and then around to face him. Now he holds the blade between the two of them. Slowly, her hand lifts to rest upon the broad-side of the sword, feeling the difference of its cool metal surface to the warmth of her own. Past its silver edge, gleaming in the morning light, her eyes briefly meet his before turning her attention to the weapon. Actions speak louder than words. This is true for him: for while he succinctly uses his own, he has helped this world already through touch. How does she convey her gratefulness in the same method?

She cannot thank the weapon itself, for it is inanimate and bound to his hand. The blade is a symbol of might, power, the grace with which he wields it all, an extension of him, a symbol of him, if not him, himself. Yet, she cannot say 'thank you' aloud again to him, either. That would not be enough.

Actions speak louder than words; she should try to communicate as he does.

Leaning in, she presses her lips to the blade's surface. Only after a second or two does she pull away, the corners of her mouth curling softly into a grateful smile. Her eyes, too, shine with appreciation as she looks at him. ]

[ He thinks that she might inspect the blade until her curiosity is sated, but she proves him wrong when she leans in and leaves a kiss. Transfixed by this display, he can only blink. The look she gives him brings him back to the moment.

She loves life. This blade, which he dismisses by releasing the hilt, exists to guard the future where that life may thrive. She must mean to convey her thanks to its wielder. In acknowledge of this, he nods after a pause; this, however, has ever been his duty for him.

Walking around to orient himself toward the direction of the townhouse, he looks to her. She needs her rest, so they should start moving. ]

[ Just a blink from him, just a pause, and just a nod as the greatsword dissipates into light and back into him. She believes he understands.

...But he's urging for them to continue. Ever-moving forward, this one. With a nod, her fingers shift in her grasp with his. She takes a step alongside him, then another, and soon they begin to walk hand-in-hand. She'll remain silent as they walk to their townhouse. Before they enter, however, she says one more thing. ]

He has your eyes, you know. [ Noctis does. (And his face.)

And if their eyes catch just right within the morning light, it's as if their color shines the same hue as their divine power. ]

Your legacy [ What they had talked about the first week here, at that. ] ...is realized in his goodness. [ She laughs softly, jokingly, although it is tired. ] Maybe your own goodness had passed down to him through all those generations...?

[ Time to enter the townhouse. ]

[ The door opens with authentication from his communicator. Somnus thinks as they enter. He smothered his goodness the day he threw morality to the wind and began his fiery crusade in order to give his people the future; Noctis, however, holds onto his virtue. Noctis will walk tall, while Somnus walks with his head down.

Inside, he makes for the door that was claimed by Pyra. It's a mystery if she requires sleep, but he expects that she desires rest regardless. ]

Our visages may be the same, but his virtue is his own.

[ He should look in a mirror to see his own charity, then. But she is too tired to continue her playful tone to say such a thing.

Instead at the threshold of her doorway, her hand releases his to settle upon his chest. Once again, her palm rests over his heart. ] Then, two unique goodnesses... that developed separately through time. [ Independent from their genes, their similar faces, the color of their eyes, their divine magic. Doesn't that make it even more incredible that such goodness exists, so far apart in ages?

She wish she could explain the phenomenon that that is to him, but it seems that exhaustion prevents her from doing more. How he had noticed that tiredness before, she doesn't know, but she's oddly grateful for it nonetheless. She's vulnerable, yes, but... also safe with him. ]

Maybe one day... we, together with you, will see the sunrise.

[ With these as her parting words, she breaks from him at last. The door closes shut a few seconds later. ]

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