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synthneon2022-02-11 05:36 pm
dragonssung) wrote in synthneon2022-02-11 05:36 pm
Entry tags:
echoes of truth | ❝ tales of loss and fire and flame. ❞
Every word on our hearts engraved
In the dark you will not stray
Forge ahead, till the end, we pray
no subject
But his emotional barriers have been so badly damaged by this long struggle that he has very little control over himself and his feelings that threaten to spill out just like the tears that course down the sides of his face. Even as she guides him to rest his head in her lap, he cries out in his sleep, an action he never would have done had he still remained the stoic person he would have been had he not been struggling against the primal that still has a hold on him.
Although his sleep has become considerably less restful, it is still a form of rest, and even in his despair, he burrows his head further into her lap, clearly seeking out her presence and the comfort she gives him, in spite of her own distressed state.
A second quieter cry escapes him, but now his tension fades yet again as the harrowing dreams fade from his mind and exhaustion pulls him back under as well. He remains dimly aware of her presence with him, but he has not realized that she also has drifted off to sleep.
It is some time after they both have been claimed by slumber that Aymeric stirs. Tear tracks still can be seen on his face, but he does not remember ever shedding those tears. A sound that is closer to a distressed whine reaches his ears, and gradually, his eyes slide open. He moves again, stopping when he realizes that his head is still pillowed in her lap, and because of that and the position she fell into when sleep took her provides him with quite an interesting view.
But no thoughts along those lines enter his mind, and instead of moving or attempting to speak, he stills once more, but he remains awake, eyes all but focused on her and what he can see of her face. ]
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If the circumstances had been anything along the lines of normalcy? She may have smiled suggestively and shifted for his view. However, she is still buried under her own set of distressing dreams. Another small sound makes its way free and she curls her hands to her chest. Her head turns into the pillows beneath her. The shake in her hands only increases and she attempts to curl into herself. That proves difficult as his head is still in her lap.
The dreams continue as they have as horror after horror was encountered in the far away land. Creatures deformed and twisted, a people on the brink of destruction, and the fear in the back of her mind that nothing would be left of Eorzea when she and K'thsiru returned. They twist into memories of long stretched battlefields with the Empire. A weapon so powerful it could kill any without a trace...
The face of the person she loves the most on the star amongst those that litter the battlefield. Realizing that, as she stands there, she was too late to save him. After everything she and K'thisru had been through, after promising she would come home to him. After all those lives they had saved? She failed to save him, to come back to uphold her promise of being his wife. She falls to her knees beside him and shaking hands reaching to hold his face in her hands.
Then, a heartbroken cry breaks through in her dream and in the waking world. She cradles him in her dreams, apologizing again and again for not making it in time. Tears stream down her face as she presses her forehead to his. What sort of manner of Warrior of Light is she? She might save the world a thousand times over with her sister at her side, but she is incapable of saving the one she would spend her life with? Now, he lays in her arms, his soul long departed to the aetheric sea. Crying seems hardly enough to try and express the depths of how broken her heart is, but it is the only thing she can think to do. Other than hold him in her arms and continue her repeating apologies.
He cannot be dead. Not truly. Not after everything they've been through. Life cannot be that unfair or cruel.
In the waking world, she tries desperately to wake. She does not wish to be in a world where he nor her sister are not. Tears form in her eyes but they do not fall as the desperate attempts to leave her world of nightmares push through anything else. Her hands ball into fists and her face presses more into the pillows. ]
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He does not cry out again, but the distress and torment of his nightmare is plain to see in every tensed muscle and the stiffness that takes hold of his frame. The cry that bursts from her brings about an immediate reaction from him, and he jerks abruptly as if something has burned him.
Driven by the need to comfort her, he shifts, pressing a hand down upon the bed so that he might push himself from where he lies with his head in her lap into a seated position, and to his surprise, his body complies. It seems as though the combination of food and sleep, however brief and disturbed, has brought some of his strength back.
One hand moves to cover one of hers that has balled itself into a fist while the other goes to rest on her head, hoping that the touch will give her some comfort. But he is still not fully healed yet, and although he knows he can remain sitting up, he decides that he only wants to lie down beside her. The hand resting on her head does not move even as he shifts positions, moving to stretch himself out next to her, and once he has, then his arm moves to wrap itself lightly around her waist.
Finally coming to a stop, he does just one more thing, pressing his front against her back, as he waits for a sign that her nightmare is lessening or that she is beginning to return to wakefulness. ]
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It takes several more moments for her mind to finally claw out of its slumbering state. Her eyes finally open to simply look at the wall that she faces at first. An ear turns towards Aymeric once she realizes his breathing indicates he is once again awake. There is only a strain to his breaths now as opposed to the laboring he suffered through the day before. Alkaid closes her eyes and turns her hand to slip her fingers between his. ]
...did I wake you? I'm sorry. [ Her voice is quiet, as if tired of fighting several battles all in a row. Fatigue has certainly set in as her mind cannot simply rest after all she has seen and done in Norvrandt. Even before then, the battles with the Empire.
She turns so she might face him. Except, her eyes never quite raise to meet his. They instead look down at their mismatched clothing. Ears lower to press against her head completely and her tail curls up around her. She knows she should not be this close to him. It could further cause an outrage of the primal influence in his mind and damage him further. Yet, all she wishes to do is lean into his hold as she might normally.
All the battles... the loss... the victories... she is so tired.
Her eyes close once more as her shoulders drop. Then, her forehead rests against his chest, despite her better judgement. ]
Did you sleep well? Were your dreams better?
[ Although she does know the answer to some degree. ]
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The smile he gives her is both like his usual smile but not quite at the same time. The primal in his mind is still present, of course, but for the moment, it is deciding to remain somewhat dormant, waiting and watching.
In a way, he feels somewhat as he had when he first awoke in the cell, only this time, there is no compelling need to escape. For one, there are no bars holding him in, only a room. The Warrior of Light still registers as a threat with King Thordan, but Aymeric still pushes back against those thoughts, still retaining the belief that she can be swayed into aligning with them and being of use, if only he is given the opportunity to be at his most persuasive. Being rendered weak and unresponsive only feels like a step backwards to him, and so whenever Thordan tries to reprimand him for still viewing Alkaid as an ally, he does his best to argue against that.
He shakes his head, part of him marveling in the fact that his head does not pound nor does his vision blur from completing that action. ]
Nay, I was already beginning to stir when I saw that your sleep had become disturbed. [ His tone softens when she turns so that she is facing him. ]
I slept as well as anyone could expect, but I think that I have been the focus of your worries for far too long. It is high time that someone worry about you. Your sleep did not seem restful nor easy.
[ He is certain she'll notice how he deflected the question concerning his dreams, but he means well by it. Whatever it is she saw in her dreams seemed every bit as distressing, if not even more than his were. ]
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Her gaze remains downwards with no inclination to meet his eyes. The hand that bares her engagement ring curls against her and she gently twists it by the back with her thumb. It is so very like him to deflect his own troubles in need of anothers. She, of course, is guilty of the very same thing. Except, she is aware he is the one in the right. She certainly does not receive the care she gives, but of her own insistence. She and her sister are the Warriors of Light of the Source. They should not need others to raise them up when they are the ones to carry the hopes of others.
If she is broken or fatigued makes little difference. They must push on for the sake of everyone else.
Her usually neat braid has become a mess--perhaps reflecting how she precieves herself on the inside. Her gaze shifts to the side and a gentle shake of her head is given. ]
I'm fine.
[ The tone of her voice implies she does not wish to convince him or herself. No, it is more a tone of resignation. A form of acceptance that how she is now is very well how she might always be.
She curls her shoulders slightly as the hand he holds laxes in his grip. ]
...once I've rested more, I'll finish tending to the rest of your injuries. But, before then, we should have dinner.
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The ring she wears does not go unnoticed, and something akin to a chime sounds in the back of his mind, as if trying to bring to mind the occasion when he gave that ring to her. That memory is still very much alive and present, of course, but it seems as though the primal does not wish for Aymeric to focus upon it as it slips away from the forefront of his thoughts almost as soon as it was formed. ]
But you aren't; I can clearly see that you are not well.
[ He shakes his head at her next words, an expression of determination, the best that he can manage, comes to his face. ]
I will be all right for the moment. Your attentions have seen to that. I think that it is high time you turn those attentions to yourself, if only for a time. Anything else can be delayed for a moment or two.
[ An idea occurs to him then, and his gaze shifts over to the door and to the dragoon who surely must still be stationed outside. Unless, of course, Estinien also retreated for a rest.
Perhaps if he can rise from the bed and cross over to the door, he might be able to enlist Estinien's aid in ensuring that Alkaid take a brief reprieve. It is not even that he wishes to be rid of her; he clearly wants her to remain with him, but he would have to be blind to not notice how unwell she appears. That, in his mind, is unacceptable. If she refuses him, he has one more tactic that he might use to convince her, but he is waiting to see what her response will be. ]
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... What does it matter if I'm not? [ Tears well in her eyes, but as she has this whole affair, she refuses to let them fall in front of him. While wounds on her body and even her soul have been healed after the affair in Norvrandt? It would seem the emotional and mental horrors will linger yet. She is still broken, and more than once has she thought that Aymeric deserves someone who is not in the state she is in. ] There is apparently no way to fix what is damaged... what is broken. Meaning it hardly matters if I am "fine", because it can't be healed.
[ Perhaps it can and she simply has yet to find how she might stop having the nightmares. There might be a remedy in the world--somewhere--but any soldier who has seen enough horrors of war has the wounds she has. Alkaid looks away as an expression of shame crosses her eyes. She had fought so hard for the First; to save it and the Source. She fought and pushed through in order to come home to Aymeric so they might finally be wed; the war with the Empire be damned.
What was given to her as her reward? Nightmares and fears that she cannot seem to shake no matter how hard she tries. And now, she may very well lose the very reason she held onto through all of it. Her other hand pulls from his to cover the one that wears the engagement ring. The tips of her fingers brush back and forth over the jewels.
She was supposed to come home. Instead, she feels all she can give Aymeric now is a shadow of herself when he deserves so much more.
Estinien is indeed on the other side of the door that leads into the suite. The room beyond the bedroom remains empty, save for what Tataru brought earlier. ]
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[ He shakes his head and he lowers his hands from her face as they clench into fists. ] How is it that you are so determined to give me aid, but you cannot spare a moment to do the same for yourself?
[ For just a moment, the remnant of Aymeric that remains chooses to speak up. ]
Do you not believe that I will do whatever I must to ensure that everything that ails you, whether of the mind or the body, ceases to do so?
[ If anything, his resolve to help her however he can also helps ground him in turn, even if it is a fragile hold. ]
Can you not find it in you to trust in that, and to be confident in it?
[ Perhaps he ought not to question her so, but he finds that he is unable to hold back those words. ]
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[ Her eyes widen as his hands move away from her. That part of her that struggles so much all that she saw on the First practically screams at the idea he has pulled away from her. What if she has finally upset him enough that he might not wish to be with her? Would it be enough to steer him in to the hold of King Thordan?
Her hands begin to shake uncontrollably as she timidly reaches back out for his. Fingers brush along the back of his hands in a way to ask if she might hold onto them again. She has done her utmost to keep herself together as best she can throughout this whole affair. Even when his stagnating aether towards a particular element causes such a deep panic and fear inside her. Not that this is anything similar to the sin eaters, but, it is too far for comfort in her mind.
If at all possible, her ears flatten further against her head as her eyes close to keep the tears that threaten to shed at bay. Alkaid tucks her head down to hide her shame and what she feels is disgrace. ]
...you deserve so much more--better than me... [ Alkaid wishes she might curl into a ball underneath the covers and hide from him as she speaks. Instead, her head dips further as her shoulders begin to shake the same as her hands are. ] I fought so hard to come home to you--just as I promised I would... so much pain, and sorrow, and hopelessness... a-and I always feared that when I came home, the Empire would have taken you away, w-when I couldn't be there to save you...
...instead it was me--I'm the one who is broken; who came home different.
[ She has answered any question he may ever ask of the First and the state of the reflection. Not that she expects him to remember it through the haze the primal has placed upon his mind. He most certainly has no idea of what she speaks of or why it has troubled her so. He would have no recollections of the nights she curled up in blankets endlessly awake out of fear of nightmares, or waking because of them. She had thought herself improving--bettering--overcoming it all. She feels as if she truly was not improving and merely lying to herself because Aymeric had been there to help ease the pain of it all.
Now, King Thordan has been summoned, and enslaved her knight and she can do little more than help care for him and beg him not to stop fighting.
Tears finally start to cascade down her cheeks despite how much she screams within herself not to. ]
I'm sorry, [ Alkaid turns her cheek into the blanket in an attempt to stop the tears and put herself back together. ] I'm sorry--you deserve better and I...
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His shoulders shake just as hers are, as emotions boil up in response to her own desperate and emotion-filled words. How can he tell her that the only person he wants or will ever want is her? The primal in his mind moves angrily at that thought, but even the grip of King Thordan is not enough to dislodge that from Aymeric's mind.
It does not matter to him, to his true self, that Alkaid has returned from her struggles a changed person. It does not, nor will it, matter that she came back with some terrible scars from everything she lived through. What he would do if only he could is pull her into his arms for a hug that he intends to never end. If she needs him and his comfort, he wants to be right there to give it to her.
It does not matter to him if the cost of what he is about to do is his strength or his ability to speak to her. Neither does it matter of King Thordan turns on him once and for all. What little he has managed to retain of himself is speaking loud and clear, and there is only one thing he can do if his words aren't enough to tell her how much he still loves her.
He leans in, not needing to move very far given how close to him she still is, and he lightly presses a kiss onto her lips. Either she will recoil or she will sink into the kiss, as he hopes, but he knows that her upset is deep enough that she may very well not respond to the kiss at all. ]
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There is no doubt in her mind that he still loves her and wishes to care for her. Even as the primal's influence tries to pull him away and stagnate his aether? He has made it clear as he can--multiple times--that he intends to fight to remain with those he cares for. It is not him she doubts, nor their bond , but herself and how capable she might be to meet any of his needs or wants beyond being what his tempered self first saw her as: a useful healer.
She does not simply sink into the kiss, but puts herself entirely into the motion. That side that speaks of logic and clarity reminds her yet again that the primal may lash out and do more harm to him; harm that she would be directly responsible for. Yet, the need to be loved and comforted by him pushes past the logic and the guilt. Her eyes remain closed even as she presses her lips to his and presses her body against him. The hands still tremble in his hold.
It is a rare occurance, but through the notion, she asks for his aid for her ownself. She knows that deep down, she is still the same woman he fell in love with. The same soul with wide eyes to wander the world and heal any and all of any ailments. The woman who simple cares so much she rose to be the Warrior of Light with her sister. She just seems so far away after everything...
Alkaid tilts her head only slightly to deepen the kiss. ]
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If he were himself, he would want such a reversal, because the small part of him that remains him only wants to be restored to how he should be, not forced to continue existing in this diminished way.
But even so, he has just enough strength left to try and hold on, to keep fighting. And against the odds, the kiss that he and Alkaid are sharing only spurs on his desire to continue the fight. Knowing that she will be there at the end of all this gives him hope and a reason to keep up the fight.
The primal is quick to counter that, sensing how Aymeric's conviction seems to be rising, and not in a direction that it wants. Do you know that she will be there waiting for you? Perhaps she will come to decide that this is not a fight worth continuing, or perhaps she will become too tired and weak to continue. You could come to the end of it all and find no one there waiting for you.... only me.
It takes a monumental effort, but Aymeric pushes aside those thoughts, doing his best to refuse to even heed them. Alkaid will be there waiting for him, he is certain of it, even if he cannot voice that certainty aloud. She will have gone on the journey with him, and when it finally comes to a resolution, he is certain she will be there.
For now, he presses against her, one hand moving to circle around her back and draw her in even closer. If this helps and is even slightly comforting, then he will continue. And there is more he would like to do in that vein, if he can resist the primal long enough. ]
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She melts into his hold, body forming to his almost perfectly. Minus the fact that she is smaller than him by a fair amount. Their kiss ends, but she tilts her head to press her nose against his cheek lovingly. She mumbles another apology for the state she is in.
While she is certainly fatigued, there is no need to worry of being too weak to continue. The stretch against the Ascians in the First had been so much physically harder than this trial. Besides, she is certain someone will give her a final push if needed, given what he promised.
She is cold still, not having taken refuge in blankets since they moved to the new room. Not that it bothers her much. Ishgard is always colder. ]
We need to get dinner at some point. [ Meaning that she is certainly going to eat and he need not worry of that. ] I'll have Estinien get something for us. What do you want?
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He takes hold of one of the blankets on the bed, and making use of his more or less restored strength, he places it around her shoulders, even making sure that it is wrapped around as much of her frame as he can manage.
And knowing that she might have come to expect this reaction from him but being unable to hold back that part of him that looks to the needs of others first, he shakes his head. ]
Rice and soup is not enough, is it? [ For her, he means. ] You should ask Estinien to bring you something that you wish to eat.
[ He won't turn down food if it's brought for him, but he wishes to see her care for herself first. ]
Once you've eaten, then I will as well. [ Even if all that is brought for him is more of the same, he intends to do as he has said. And he resolutely does what he can to ignore the ripples of anger coming from the primal who clearly disapproves of this direction he has chosen to take. ]
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There are several things that spring to mind. Though, she imagines their taste and density may not matter so much to him in his tempered state. It feels like another slight stab to her already raw feeling heart. One of the things she had wanted him to experience by traveling with her was the different food of the world. Yet, even that has been taken from them. Not only are they finally together in a foreign city-state... he is not even allowed to enjoy it.
He certainly mirrors her own words in this instance. It brings a small-half smile to her face.
She presses her nose to his cheek once more an d notes the blanket pulled around her. There is an urge to simply stay in bed with him underneath the blankets. Maybe there will be time for that once he has been cured. ]
Do you need help getting out of bed?
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Instead, he does not care overly much about what it is she brings him or much of anything beyond being able to return to Ishgard in order to do what it is the primal wishes. He is not driven by such a mindless desire to follow Thordan, but the need to see the state of Ishgard with his own eyes is strong. ]
So, call Estinien. Ask him to bring you food. I know you need it.
[ In response to her question, he shakes his head. He does not wish to leave the bed or to even sit up, as the bed is rather comfortable, but he will have to move at some point. Still, there is some reluctance in his movements and lingering weakness as well. Pressing a hand down on the bed, he pushes himself up as best as he can. He cannot swing both legs over the side of the bed, but he can move them one at a time until he has turned so that he is sitting up with his back to her. But he turns his head back over his shoulder to continue maintaining eye contact with her. ]
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Now, she only feels cold on the outside and the inside.
Her eyes finally raise as he moves off the bed. She blinks as he turns to look back at her with almost an air of expectation. Slowly, she rolls to her other side and forces herself up off the bed. Within a few steps she is at the door to the greater room, and turns to see if he might need help moving to it.
Although, she has the feeling he will rebuke her aid again. ]
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None of this internal struggle shows on his face, of course, but the slight heaviness that has fallen upon his shoulders is the only sign that more is going on below the surface and beneath his impassive expression.
When she moves over to the door, he pushes himself up from the bed with only the slightest bit of hesitation, as if a part of him expects that he might not be able to remain standing. When nothing happens, he takes a tentative step forward, followed by another, until he is standing next to her again.
To him, it feels like a step in the right direction, as he remembers quite clearly being unable to move on his own. And that is as distasteful a thought as being unable to do whatever he has to for his people and his home.
Now that they are both at the door, he turns to look at her again, as if waiting for her to move. A thought springs to mind then, that he might find an opportunity to make an escape, but the more rational part of his mind is telling him to wait. He would not get far before Estinien or someone else came looking for him, and even though he has grown stronger, he would not be able to outrun them.
Instead, he asks: ] What do you intend to do now? After you have eaten, that is.
[ He still is not too concerned with his needs, but he supposes she won't stand for her eating and him refraining. ]
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[ In a way, she feels as if it is a cycle they seem to repeat. She will frame herself and what she will do by the way he defines it thanks to the primal influence, and then he will seemingly break. That is not what she had intended at all. She only wishes to do what she might need to in order to not only heal him, but stay at his side. Although, she cannot brush aside the sinking feeling that perhaps she is no longer useful in his primal hazed mind.
Alkaid opens the door and steps out into the sitting room of the quarters. She stops at the table between the couches, seeing the brown wrapped package waiting on the table. Her head tilts and she removes the letter attached to the yarn. She gently flips it over, eyes scrawling over the print that is quite clearly Tataru's.
Something for Ser Aymeric.
She looks back down at the package. A moment passes before she takes it into her hands, fingers brushing against the paper. Tataru has an adoration for Ishgard, just as Alphinaud. The Lalafell clearly worries for the state of Aymeric and the city-state that gave them refuge when none other would. Not for the first time, Alkaid wonders if perhaps she has acted too selfishly and disregarded the feelings of the other Scions. She holds the package to her chest before moving towards the door to the room.
Her hand reaches out to open it, but it opens seemingly on it's own. For the first time since she woke up this morning, her ears lift up from her head in surprise. Estinien enters the room and closes the door behind him. ]
Your footsteps are rather distinct, Alkaid, despite your attempt to hide them. [ Estinien offers an air of humor that she wishes she might be able to return. Then, his ice-steel eyes move to see Aymeric moving about on his own. ] And it would seem our sleeping Lord Speaker is up and about on his feet.
I know it's late, but, he needs to eat. [ Alkaid's tail stills and curls around her as Estinien turns his gaze back to her. The silent correction of "we" is already in her expression. She squeezes the package closer to her chest. ] A-and please thank Tataru for the gift for me...
I am certain she would need no thanks, but, I will be certain they are passed along. Given his lordship has graced us with his presence? You can have no doubt that something hearty will be brought.
[ The dragoon half turns, sending one narrowed glance towards Aymeric once more. The door closes behind him as he leaves them once more. The echo seems to ring in her ears and she remains standing where she is for a moment. Finally, Alkaid turns and walks back to Aymeric and where he has seated himself.
She holds the package out for him to take, eyes adverted away from him. ]
Tataru brought this for you. She made it herself.
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[ He crosses his arms in front of him as he gives her a surveying glance. ] I suppose that I must express thanks, because I would not be standing right now if not for you.
[ His impassive expression conceals the swirling uncertainty inside him; he is unsure what he ought to do now, aside from attempt to return to Ishgard to see to affairs there. He could continue try to sway the Warrior of Light to his side, or he could abandon the idea entirely. At the root of it all is the notion that he will have to return to his homeland one way or another, but what gives him pause is the threat that Estinien represents.
And, whether he likes to admit it or not, he is certain that an escape attempt would only upset Alkaid further. Why is it that you care? Thordan chooses this moment to interject with that question. It is not a wrong one either, and Aymeric has no good answer for it.
He manages to pull himself from his thoughts long enough to see Alkaid opening the door, and of course he follows. His expression turns questioning as he sees the package on the table, but he pays it no mind. It must be something she requested, or provisions. Nothing that concerns him.
But then he hears the door begin to open and Estinien himself steps inside. Aymeric's posture stiffens and his head rises just slightly as he turns to look at the dragoon.
He listens to the exchange, not particulary riveted by it, but his attention focuses once again when Estinien levels a glance in his direction before he leaves. Accursed dragoon and his equally cursed lance. Thordan's disdain is clear, even though a part of Aymeric believes that Estinien could be a valuable asset as well.
Aymeric's thoughts are once again interrupted by Alkaid's approach, and he looks up to see the package in her hands. ]
Why would she do such a thing? [ Of course he has a vague recollection of Tataru, but in the haze brought on by the primal, he cannot imagine why she would bother giving him anything, much less thinking about him. ]
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[ Her gaze drops as he crosses her arms. What point remains to show how much her heart hurts? It certainly would matter little in his current state. With his tone and how he speaks? It already feels as if how he held her was hours ago, not merely mintues. Tears fill her eyes again and she oushes past them and the door. ]
I do not need thanks, Aymeric. Everything I do for you is because of the simple fact that I love you.
[ She pays no attention to the looks between the two Elezens. Her own mind is twisting into thoughts of wondering if she can truly help Aymeric in the state he is in. She still intends not to abandon him, as deep down, her knight is fighting desperately to stay afloat from the primal's influence. Yet, she also cannot deny that how he speaks to her--so distant and cold--leaves a mark on her heart. A heart so raw that truly anything could leave a bruise or wound upon it.
Her gaze raises slightly as he asks his question. ]
Ishgard took us in when none others would. She and Alphinaud will always have a fondness for the city, her people, and you. She cannot fight nor wield magick... so creating things is all she can do.
[ Inside the package is a handmade sleeping gown. It is clearly made of cloth from Corethas, and handstitched with the emblem of Ishgard on the brest. Alkaid's eyes widen at the sight of it and tearse fill her eyes. A piece of home for the Lord Speaker while he is held so far away from home.
Her hands reach out to cover his. She truly has no idea if the gift will matter to him or not. ]
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But even now, he is still there doing his best to hold on and not give up. She hasn't given up on him, and that is a more powerful drive than even Thordan could have expected.
His gaze lands upon hers once more, and his mind begins to twist with thoughts of its own. He tries desperately to push those thoughts away, but it seems that some part of him is determined to take control again.
It takes a moment, and if she is watching, she might see a struggle playing out before her. His mouth opens as if he wants to speak, but then a tension takes hold of his shoulders and he takes an abrupt step back from her. Next, he shakes his head as if attempting to dislodge something from him, and without announcement or even a second's pause, he all but exclaims: ]
I'm- I am so very sorry that I've put you through all this.
[ It's a strangely lucid statement for him to make, when he is clearly fighting with himself and the primal's influence, but it seems that he still has some lingering reserves of strength left.
He takes a step forward again, and his hands reach out as well, both for her hands and for the package alike.
No sooner do his fingers brush against the package and the cloth inside than something seems to happen. Almost simultaneously, a great weight seems to fall from his shoulders and he is about to straighten up, but before he can, an even greater weight crashes down upon his mind, wordless retribution from the primal intended to prevent Tataru's gift and all the meaning that it holds from taking root in him.
Because nothing else has a greater effect on him than reminders of Ishgard, or so it seems. And of course, part of him regrets that he has not responded so to Alkaid's efforts, but they are still no less meaningful.
Even so, the primal senses danger and a threat, and so it attempts to overwhelm Aymeric's mind and senses once more. His hands that were moving to take the package drop to his sides, but this time, his gaze remains locked on the woman who has stood with him this whole time.
There is a pleading look in his eyes, as if he is wordlessly asking her for help once more, even though he regrets placing more burdens upon her, but whether the primal likes it or not, she does give him the strength to keep pushing back. ]
no subject
His words almost make her feel as if a lightning bolt has gone through her. There is a sense of urgency and a fear of losing him entirely if she does not respond. The package is placed on the couch and her hands quickly reach to grab his. Her fingers curl around his and a firm squeeze is given to them. ]
I would rather be here and endure any pain. I will not stand for you feeling as if you have been abandoned to this fate--that Ishgard has been abandoned. You are my husband-to-be, and Ishgard is my home, and I will bleed out if necessary to keep both.
[ Without direction or even the hesitance that gripped her before, Alkaid moves him to sit down on the couch once more. She stands between his legs, wrapping her arms around him, and guiding his head to rest on her shoulder. There is little else she can do other than heal his wounds, encourage his aether to flow, and remind him of her presence. She has no idea if that is truly going to be enough as he continues to be tempered... but what else can she do?
Her ear lifts as she hears the door open. Estinien enters once more, directing a member of the Storm to place the dinners on the table. A look is shared between Alkaid and Estinien. The dragoon of course questions the change of circumstance, but Alkaid shakes her head. It seems Aymeric will continue to move back and forth between the driven man to return to Thordan, and the more exhausted one that fights against such a notion. Her hand raises to gently brush through his hair and Estinien closes his eyes. Once dinner is set, the dragoon ushers the Storm member from the room and leaves the two to themselves once more.
Alkaid presses a kiss to the top of Aymeric's head. Her poor knight. She has the feeling--the sinking feeling--that he will be forced to chose between the adoration of his father's memory or Ishgard as she stands now. While she is certain that, in his right mind, he would chose the path that would continue Ishgard forward? The primal has most certainly warped those memories and placed him in a state similar to that of before the Dragonsong War ended. Her fingers continue to brush through his hair and down the back of his neck before circling upwards once more. ]
I promise, my brave knight. We will go home. Once this matter is settled and you are better? We will return to Ishgard. We will help everyone there rebuild, and, if you still wish, we will finally be married. [ Alkaid tilts her head against his, hiding her face in his hair. ] Even if I must do it alone? I will free Ishgard and her people so all might decide what life to pursue.
[ The arm still wrapped around him squeezes him tightly as the resolve burns inside her. Lantaa still feels broken and lost, but, she cannot let that cloud what others might need. Ishgard needs its Saviors once more, and she will do whatever it requires of her. After all, she has already been scared and bruised, changed permanently in some ways in her time in the First.
King Thordan and his Knights of Twelve will not take her home and her mate away.
Eventually, she does pull back enough to be able to gather their dinner. She carefully sets it together on one tray and sits beside him, showing that she does intend to eat her meal along side him. In a way, she has already lost track of how long Aymeric has been like this, and knows it may yet be many more days before she hears from the Scions. She will push forward and do whatever Aymeric requires of her--be it an aid to eat, company, or even someone to verbally spar with. Whatever it is he will need to keep him fighting until they have the cure. ]
no subject
He has to fight to speak, because that is the last thing the primal wants, but his resolve burns just as much as Lantaa's does, and after a few seconds of struggling, he manages to seize control of his voice. ]
Please- You must... You must live. [ He fears if she loses too much of herself in the process of trying to help him, even if she does not literally bleed out for him or for the city, the outcome will be very bleak indeed. He does not doubt the strength that K'thisru possesses, but both of the sisters are needed, and if both were lost, then Ishgard might be lost as well.
He dimly recalls her expressing a distaste for how all of Eorzea is concerned with protecting them whenever possible, but he still cannot help but feel that the two sisters are far more important than just one man. ] You are needed... Ishgard needs you.
[ He would give his all for the city he loves so much, but as she has thought to herself, she and K'thisru are Ishgard's saviors, and so they must both live.
Once they are seated and his head is resting on her shoulder, his body sags as exhaustion pulls at him again. He must continue to fight, but he is so tired and the primal seems all but unmoving. Still, water can wear away stone, and a part of Aymeric calls out to him to keep pushing back, to keep fighting that maybe the primal's influence will wear away, a little at a time. Never mind that no one who has been tempered has been able to free themselves by willpower alone, but however tired he is, he does not wish to give up.
He does not register Estinien's presence, nor that of the Storm representative, doing little more than lying in her hold until both men have taken their leave.
Alkaid's kiss and her fingers running through his hair calm him, as they always have, but the churning turmoil in his heart does not lessen. A choice must be made, but does he have the strength to make it? Will the primal's influence overtake him and take the choice from him?
Even as she tries to soothe him, he begins to shake, his emotions and desires threatening to overwhelm him in the absence of his customary implacable emotional shields that have so thoroughly been destroyed during this long fight.
Home... He hears her making promises that they will go home when this is all over, and his need to be home in Ishgard where everything is familiar and where his heart truly resides nearly drowns him in its intensity. Even as she goes on to talk about helping Ishgard's people rebuild, and even mentions their marriage, his longing for his home only grows.
When she pulls away to bring over their dinner, he stiffens, but she is still there with him, not having left or having been forcibly removed a second time. Still, in the absence of that determined man whose only thought was how best to escape so that he might answer Thordan's call, it is all Aymeric can do to remain seated. Feeding himself seems to once again be a task he cannot manage.
The thought has been present in his mind, but he has been unable to properly verbalize it until now: how long will I be able to maintain this current state? And even if I am able to, what will the outcome be? Will I be Thordan's thrall until my time runs out?
He vaguely recalls mentions of a cure from a time that seems so long ago now, but he cannot tell if that cure is even functional, or if he will be able to hold on until it is ready. Another thought not of his own making but rather, the primal's, springs to mind: Why prolong your struggle in hopes of something that is not meant for you? Why not take the easier path and let your fight finally end?
At those words, his hands clench, and his head abruptly snaps up, mouth falling open into a wordless protest. No.
Even though he can barely move and his ability to speak waxes and wanes, he has found enough of the last vestiges of his strength to defy the primal's tempting words. ]
/rolls this up