synthneon | echoes of truth | ❝ tales of loss and fire and flame. ❞

Entry tags:

echoes of truth | ❝ tales of loss and fire and flame. ❞

song of hope

BOOK 3.5: EVER HEAVENSWARD

Tales of loss and fire and faith
Every word on our hearts engraved
In the dark you will not stray
Forge ahead, till the end, we prayCODE BY TESSISAMESS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The desire to remain awake and aware while she goes about her business of bathing him, a notion that feels a little strange to him even in his current state, is very much present, but the combination of the warm water and his exhaustion is more than enough to lull him off to a state of being half-asleep. He dozes in the warm water as she continues her ministrations, his breathing becoming easier and less labored the more she works to clean him off.

If only he could reach out to her and speak to her while she works, because there is much that he wishes he could say, even though his state of comfortable dozing prevents it. And surely the primal would interrupt once more if he even made the attempt.

Instead, he remains still, lying in the water with his eyes closed and a far more relaxed expression than he has worn since this all started coming to his face. It isn't until she places her hands upon the back of his neck and then pauses as if waiting for him to stir that his eyes finally slide open.

For just a moment, they remain staring up at the ceiling, but gradually, they focus and they shift to look at her. Again, he does not have the chance to try and form words, because she is already moving to help him leave the tub, and his hands latch onto hers as he does his best to stand and step out of the bath.

He remains still as she wraps the towel around his waist and continues to dry him off. Once that is completed, she helps him yet again move to the bedroom, and with her assistance, he sits on the edge of the bed waiting for her to return from closing the curtains.

As she works on drying his hair, his eyes remain open, still fixed upon her, and although his mind and body both are telling him he must sleep now, he has one thing he must do first. ]

Alkaid...

[ His voice is hoarse from the lack of consistent use, but that is not what bothers him. He shakes his head lightly given the placement of her hands in his hair, and then he tries again. ]

Lantaa.

[ Her delicate hands squeeze his in return once he clutches onto them. There is a gentleness in her encouragements for him to move and do what he can. She does not expect him to make lengthy speeches or even move mountains. All she expects of him is the most that he is able to do. As she knows that he might remain as he is--in a similar state to the younger Ga Bu--or he will fully succumb to the influence of King Thordan. The decision is his to make and all she can do is show that she will not think less of him in either way. He will still always be Ser Aymeric de Borel of Ishgard to her.

Her thoughts continue to drift off in that fashion until he speaks her name. Then, all attention instantly focuses back on him. She looks down at his still glowing blue eyes with her own eyebrows raised. ]

Hm?

[ The hands atop his head have already stopped due to her spiraling thoughts, and the small tremor in them remains. Her head cants to the side just enough when he shakes his own head. Then, as just before in the cell, she freezes as he says her birth name. Her eyes widen once more and she does her utmost not to let her lower lip tremble again.

She's meant to be a Warrior of Light--a Champion and Hero of Eorzea. That does not mean she falls apart when the world seems to be at its worst. She does not crumble when those around her look to strength and to keep the world going. Even if it is her world that seems to be shrouded in an undertone of darkness ever since she returned from Norvrandt. He has seen enough of how much of a mess she remains inside of it. That is not what he needs at the moment. She needs to be a beacon of hope that it will all be right in the end; even if it is not the same as it once was.

Alkaid pulls her hands back from his hair with the towel in tow. She hides her fingers inside the folds of the towel. They begin to twist one another in her nervous habit. ]

...Yes?

[ Godsdamnit, her voice is far too soft and filled with worry to seem strong or anything else for that matter. She berates herself inwardly once more. Her shoulders square and she pulls her hiding hands closer to her in an attempt to seem taller and in more control than she certainly feels she is as she waits for his response. ]

[ Once again, he feels divided between what he wants for himself and what he ought to want as a son of Ishgard. He wants to bring to life what has so far only been a swiftly fading dream in his mind: namely having a life with her... with Lantaa, being able to converse with her and hold her as he once did. King Thordan might be trying to drown out all of his memories with her, but he cannot dislodge those core memories, the ones that his true self holds most dear. But even so, those memories war with other ones, ones planted in his mind by the primal.

In these artificially implanted memories, he sees himself being lead down another path by Thordan himself... not the imposing primal but the man who is his only remaining blood relation. This path takes him far from the woman that he loves but leads him to what Thordan claims is the only way to Ishgard's salvation.

Still, what remains of Aymeric's will fights to hold onto those precious memories of his time with Lantaa, and even as the tension shows itself in his posture and in the way the veins in his neck begin to stand out because of the continued internal battle, he still fights to respond to her. ]

I- I'm... [ I'm here. His mind fills in the sentence that he is struggling to give voice to, but that is not enough: he wants to say those words aloud that Lantaa might know he is still trying desperately to reach for her.

She might not expect any grand speeches from him, but he can barely manage to say two words to her, and that is more distressing to him than any wound.

But then, as if a burst of defiance that has been building up over time finally manages to break through, Aymeric's shoulders stiffen and he straightens up for one brief moment. ]

Lantaa, I'm here. [ In those words rings all the defiance and resolve that has been so thoroughly snuffed out by his enthrallment, but for these few seconds, he almost sounds like himself again and his eyes gleam with a light quite a bit different from the light of tempering.

Soon enough, exhaustion will pull him down again, and he will once again be ensnared, but for now, the small remnant of Ishgard's Lord Speaker is doing its best to reassert itself. ]

[ Eyebrows turn upwards at their corners as she sees his posture change. A quick sharp feeling of panic hits her at the sight of the strain he puts himself under. Her mouth opens to ask him not to push himself so much for her sake. She is far from deserving of it, nor should she be so important to pull from his recovery. Losing what little progress he has made only to rescind deeper into his enthrallment would be devastating for all of them. She would not have herself be the reason why the Lord Speaker lost his battle with the primal who takes the shape of the once hero of Ishgard.

Still, she waits with ears pressed down against her head, fingers twisting one another, and tail curling up against her body. He is trying so desperately to say what it is he wishes to that she cannot bring herself interrupt--even for his own health. Perhaps he will ask her to leave him to his fate and send her away. Or, perhaps King Thordan has found a way to coax Aymeric into his hold and plans to use one of the most precious things she has given him against her. Aymeric may even mean to share apologies that he can no longer fight as he wishes he would...

Her eyebrows lift in worry as he sits into a posture more like himself. She can see the all too familiar determined look of the Lord Speaker before her. Once he has spoken the words, however, is when her worried gaze finally turns into something else. Shock, relief, concern, and above all else--love. All the emotions collide into her expression at once. The towel is dropped and her hands reach out with only the slightest hesitation that she might cause him pain when it is the last thing she wishes.

Alkaid wraps her arms around him to pull him close. She holds onto him as she would if the circumstances were but normal for them. A long parting met with a reunion that both wish would be far more permanent. Her head tips down as she presses her nose into the top of his damp hair. The tail at her side uncurls to rest beside his own and her hold on him tightens.

A familiar sound leaves her, if his memories might serve him. One of relief and yet longing that came from her with their reunion in Gyr Abania. What can she say to him that will not cause the primal in his mind to clench his hold more? She has apologized so much already, begged him to stay, attempted to share how deeply she loves him. All of it is just words that seem to be on repeat and must surely lose their meanings now. ]

Stay. Please. I--[ Alkaid presses her nose further into his hair as her body begins to shake despite her screaming at it inside her mind not to. Tears press against her shut eyelids. How much longer will her time in Norvrandt haunt her? How many times must it whittle her down into a person he must surely not see as Lantaa? Even now, as he all but shouts that he is still fighting, she feels as if she might break apart. ]--I'm not certain how much of Lantaa will remain if you go so far away.

[ An incredible wave of shame washes over her as she finally admits to it. How much of who she is--the woman deep down under the adventurer and the Warrior of Light--can continue on after all of this? She is certain not much of 'Lantaa' would wish to remain on their star. Of course, she would always be that woman in some form as long as her sister walks along side her. Yet, she also knows, the things that drove her away from her clan and into the life she leads now would surely leave with Aymeric if he chooses to put an end to it. All that she would be is a Warrior of Light and some shade of a woman there long enough to make certain her sister and man she loves could find the happiness she couldn't.

Her fingers curl into his hair in an attempt to sooth herself and him. ]

I-I'm sorry, please, I shouldn't ask that of you... you, my brave knight, who carries the whole of the city he loves so dearly on his shoulders. You don't need my weight on top of that burden... you have enough you are fighting for... please, don't think of me poorly... forget I asked...

[ No matter the strain that settles in on him and causes his muscles to protest, Aymeric does not cease in his movements. She has remained patiently by his side throughout this entire ordeal thus far, and even when she begged him to stay with her, to not give up fighting, whether or not he was able to truly express it, her presence has given him hope.

So, it is quite clear in his mind that she does deserve whatever effort he can give, and more besides, no matter how much pain he winds up in because of it. Some things are worth sacrificing for, and whether he realizes it or not, he would make every sacrifice for her if that was needed.

When she pulls him close so that she might hold him, for just a moment, he stills, merely resting in her hold as the exhaustion that has been gradually rising sweeps over him once more. But he is not finished, not just yet. Although the effort causes his arms to shake and even though he cannot lift them very high, he manages to move his arms just enough so that they are resting on both sides of her hips.

Even the sound that she makes causes something to stir in the depths of his mind, and even though his thoughts are fettered by the enthrallment, a part of him recognizes it nonetheless, and he leans in somewhat awkwardly to press a light kiss to the only place he can reach given how they are positioned: the side of her neck.

It has taken some time for him to realize it, and he knows full well that his certainty may fade the moment the primal takes hold of him again, but he is resolved to keep fighting because of her and because he wishes to stay with her for the rest of their lives.

But how can he say it when he can barely speak? He shifts in her arms, nestling himself even closer to her as he tries to summon the willpower to speak just one more time.

As he rests in her arms, she might notice if she is looking closely enough that beneath the bruises decorating his skin, there is a roadmap of scars traveling across his torso and down his bared arms, marks leftover from his time as a Temple Knight waging war against the Dravanians.

Each one tells a different tale, but they are all part of the same story, and some are little more than thin white lines where claws or spines struck. Still others are larger and deeper, even though they are all fully healed by now.

Amidst the smaller scars, there is a larger one placed squarely in the center of his back, and it has not faded as much as the others. Instead, three slashes remain visible as if a dragon's claw lashed out and left deep scores on his back. The wounds have long since healed, of course, but the marks remain.

Finally, Aymeric moves once more, eyes briefly sliding shut as if responding to the feel of her fingers in his hair. But as before, they are quick to open again, and although he expended most of his strength in his desperate effort to speak to her, he still manages to tighten his hands around her hips with more strength in his grip than before.

As long as you wish for me to be... The words form in his mind, but then his voice takes over the rest. ]

I will be right here. [ Even if he has to fight off Thordan using every last bit of his strength, he has resolved to do as she has asked and stay with her.

I will not be leaving you. His eyes lock onto hers, not blinking or looking away, as if in hopes that she will somehow realize the resolve and certainty that has taken hold of him. ]

[ Part of her wishes to do nothing more than to collapse against him and cry. Yet, she cannot see the good it would do either of them. Not when he needs a pillar to keep him strong and steady. He has been that for her so many times--even if he was not present--that she feels she cannot be anything other than that. The idea is only further cemented in her mind as his hands raise to rest on her hips.

She nudges the side of his head at his kiss. It sends a familiar shiver up her spine. One that demands she return the notion by kissing him. The demand is countered by the fear that if she would, then he might be swept away by the primal that weeds itself further into his mind. Instead, she tilts her head to kiss where his ear meets the side of his head. Intimate enough, but only enough.

Her eyes open to properly take in the damage done to his body -- both old and new. She has felt the scars on his back before, but seeing them from her angle above causes her heart to sink. The best she can do for him is heal the new ones and hope to give comfort to those that still cause him pain. Although, she can hardly manage to do the first one, let alone the second.

With his grip tightening on her hips, she finally pulls back enough to look down at him. Her hands move to cradle his head as her braid with attached bow slips once more over her shoulder. Tears gather in her eyes at his declaration as she feels a surge of hope encompass her. Plenty of doubts attempt to gnaw at the sensation, but she ignores them and instead presses her forehead to his. She gently nudges his nose with hers, as if to ask what she might be able to do that will not cause him further pain. ]

And I will be here as well. No member of the Alliance or the Scions can take me away from you.

[ Truthfully, he wishes for little more than to allow sleep to claim him once more while resting in her embrace. But at the same time, he fears that, because who can say what might happen upon his awakening? It is just as likely that he will not be himself once again as it is that he might retain the progress he has made.

But even her small gestures of contact are enough to cause comfort to sweep over him. The little nudges she gives him and the kiss she places against his head is more than enough to ease him and bring relaxation once more.

Even the bruises do not seem to trouble him as much as they once had, perhaps because the bath has helped ease that tension as well. As always, when she moves to cradle his head, his eyes close almost as if this is an action the two of them have done many times before. The feel of her hands on him is gentle and comforting, and once again, the desire to drift off to sleep rises.

What he wishes that they could do is to fall asleep together, but what reason he still has a hold of tells him that doing so will only bring about the primal's rage. But even as their foreheads rest together, he reaches again with his hand, and this time, his fingers lightly close themselves around her braid, holding the strands of hair as carefully as he can manage.

As for what she might be able to do that will not cause him further hurt, he has no answer for that. To sleep alongside one another, of course, but what else? She cannot end his enthrallment, and that is the obstacle that still stands between them.

Perhaps the only thing he truly wishes for is that she remains with him, and that no one attempt to separate them from each other again. But perhaps wishing for that is selfish, and the devotion to duty that is so ingrained in him chastises him for even thinking that she might put aside her own duties to remain with him.

His shoulders sag, not because he is in pain, but because now the push and pull is between himself and his desires, and it is no easier to fight with himself than it was to wrestle with the primal. Finally, he just relinquishes the idea of trying to answer her and his head dips to one side, resting against her hand as he lets his need for sleep wash over him. ]

[ A small smile breaks through to her lips as he touches her braid. Fingertips brush along the curves of his face in return. She would like nothing more than to sleep at his side ad they would normally, but, certain things must be done for him. Even as he tilts his head to sleep, Alkaid is shaking her own. ]

Aymeric. [ A gentle call of his name to garner his attention. ] You need to be dressed for bed first. Then, you can sleep all you need.

[ She quickly grabs the clothes that have been provided to the room as a standard: a sleeping shirt and underwear. It does not take her long to help him into it, and only another moment is spared to pull the covers back for him to slip underneath them.

Alkaid then moves to sit on his other side, her legs tucked to her side. ]

Move to your side, my love. [ To which, if he needs her aid, she most certainly gives. A gentle kiss is given to the base of his ear once more. ] Sleep well. I will be here when you awaken.

[ Alkaid waits and gently rubbing his arm once more until he drifts off to sleep. Then, she lowers her head and her shoulders sink. She allows only a few tears to shed before brushing her cheeks against her shoulders to dry them. Her eyes close as she focuses on channeling what aether she has managed to store into his bruises and wounds at his back and chest. As always, she pulls the ambient aether around her, but only so much can be done before her own body demands she rests once more. He can at least rest easy now that the majority of his injuries to the back and some to the chest are healed. She then gently guides him to lay on his back and brushes his bangs way from his face.

She slips her shoes off and simply sits at the edge of the bed for a long passing moment. A glance is sent over her shoulder to him before she curls her legs underneath her and lays down beside him on top of the covers. Another moment passes before she gently nestles her back against his frame, curling up as she might if things were as they ought to be.

It takes even longer for her to fall into an unease sleep, still haunted by dreams of creatures with alabaster skin, only to be morphed into those wielding an unholy light led by Knights. She shifts in her sleep, but does not awaken until she hears a knock at a door.

Her eyes open and her head raises to look first at the window to see where the sun might be through the curtains. How long had she managed to sleep this time? ]

Edited 2022-03-11 22:04 (UTC)

[ The warmth of the bath has relaxed him so much that all thoughts of everything but drifting off into a deep sleep fled his mind. Even if he had been capable of thinking of it, it has not occurred to him that perhaps he should not sleep in the bed without clothes on. Fortunately for him, Alkaid has thought of it, but even so, a frown crosses his face as she moves him as needed to help dress him.

Still, before too long, she has him ready to sleep, and with her continued help, he slides beneath the covers. He does his best to move as he has been bid, rolling onto his side while still needing a little assistance from her as his strength has not returned in full. A sigh escapes him again when she kisses the base of his ear, and his exhaustion is so great that it takes very little time for sleep to claim him.

He remains asleep even as she works on healing his injuries as best as she is able, and as she goes about her work, his breathing deepens and the lingering tension in his body fades, allowing him to finally relax.

But as time passes, even as they remain asleep, her back still nestled against him, he begins to dream as well. The images form and shift so fast that his mind can barely process them, but he dreams of his father urging him to follow him to Azys Lla, only to disappear the moment he finally reaches him. Interspersed with dreams of Thordan are dreams featuring Alkaid, and those are not any less distressing. In these dreams, he reaches out for her, calling for her, but she disappears just as Thordan did. And sometimes, he fails to reach her at all, arriving too late and finding her gone without a trace.

It is because of these dreams that chase themselves around his mind that the knock on the door does not register with Aymeric. It seems as though nothing is able to break through the sleep he desperately needs or the dreams that are playing themselves out.

He shifts slightly in his sleep when Alkaid moves, but beyond that, he remains still. He may be resting, and the sleep he has managed to get may very well help restore his strength, but even so, his mind has not relented enough to give him pleasant dreams.

His eyes remain closed as his sleep continues, but tears that he might have been able to hold back had he not been subjected to this long battle leak from beneath his closed eyelids. Whatever it is he is presently dreaming about is clearly causing no small amount of upset and a muted distressed sound escapes from him.

He rolls over while still remaining asleep, hands reaching out as if searching blindly for Alkaid and the comfort that she offers even though she is not far from him at all. ]

[ A loving kiss is placed to his forehead at his frown. She understands he simply wishes to rest. He has strained himself physically the last few hours with how weak he has become and his compiled injuries. Even further, she is certain he has put himself under considerable mental and emotional strain by attempting to take the stance against the primal as he has.

The sign of his breathing finally deepening is a relief to her, and one she shows by letting out a large exhale. Perhaps now with his injuries on his back taken care of he can begin to rest. She still has injuries on his chest to aid, and the damage done by his own on his arms against the cell doors, but it is certainly better than it had been the day before.

Her vision focuses on the early afternoon rays attempting to find their way through the heavy curtains. A hand raises to rub at her eyes. The realization that it had only been a handful of hours settles in. She had felt that her dreams went on for eternity and thus she had been asleep longer. Alkaid's gaze moves to the bedroom door and lingers for a long moment. Her ears twitch at the sound of yet another knock.

She supposes she must rise and face whoever knocks at the door to the ambassador quarters.

With a small sigh, Alkaid moves to push herself up. She finds her body heavy and demanding more rest to replenish the aether she has expended. Yet, she has every intention to ignore it and keep pushing forward. There is little else she might do in the position that she now finds herself in. It hardly matters how broken she still feels inside or how drained her body is. A Warrior of Light must keep pushing forward for all of their lives, hopes, and dreams.

That, however, is when her ears twitch at another sound they pick up.

Alkaid looks back over her shoulder at the sleeping Aymeric. Although she would hardly call it sleeping now. His arms stretched out towards her person and tears distinctly falling down his face. The sight causes her to pause, as she cannot recall ever seeing a time when he has cried. While she certainly has done plenty of it since her return from Norvrandt? He has ever kept it inside, even if at times he cannot keep his emotions inwardly. She turns so she might reach out and take his hand, but pauses once she hears the door to the quarters open.

A sense of panic fills her and one ear turns towards the door. While she knows none of the Storms could get past Estinien on guard? A sense of dread fills her that the Grand Company has arrived. Had they learned that Aymeric is truly tempered, and refuse to house him, as they do Ga Bu? Her head all but whips back to the door as she desperately strains to listen for unfamiliar footsteps. Alkaid pulls herself closer to Aymeric, not simply just so he can find her, but so she can protect him if need be. Her shaking hand rests on top of his as she leans even closer to the sleeping man at her side...

Then, she hears Estinien's calm voice. Another one follows, one higher and oh so familiar. Her eyes widen as her ears stand on end. She cannot make out the words they are saying through the heavy door, but it is clear that the person he speaks to is none other than Tataru.

Tataru? Why is she here? Had the Scions asked her and Krile to oversee herself and Aymeric? Was there a sense of distrust between them all because she had refused to act as a Scion and instead as a wife? Her ears fold against her head and her hand squeezes Aymeric's firmly.

After a few more moments the voices sound farther away and the sound of the door closing echoes. Alkaid remains where she is, shaking from the adrenaline that has shocked her exhausted state, practically clutching onto the blanket below her and the hand in hers. Her breathing returns to normal only for her head to slip back and her lip to tremble as tears find their way down her cheeks once more.

Gods, the stress of it all... ]

[ Perhaps it is because Alkaid's ministrations have slowly begun encouraging his aether to move, no matter how hard the primal tries to keep a firm grip on both him and the substance; of course, his aether is still very much stagnant, but at least a shift has started.

Or perhaps what happens next is a phenomenon unrelated to the movement of his aether, but the fact remains that even the smallest of movements that Alkaid makes stirs up a response in Aymeric as well, even though he remains asleep. He continues reaching for her, shifting his position on the bed as if trying to get closer to her once more. The swirling images from his dreams continue, each one ending the same way: with Alkaid disappearing from view.

This could all be his mind's way of pushing back against the primal's refusal to even consider letting the Warrior of Light in, or it could be the primal further trying to pull Aymeric away from those subconscious desires.

His breathing remains deep and even, but his sleeping form tenses and contracts as if responding to Alkaid's own stress and apprehension because of whatever is transpiring outside the room.

Then, an image bursts unbidden into Aymeric's churning dreams, and this one is so distressing that a fresh wave of tears flows from his eyes. He may be fighting back against the primal, but this is not a one-sided fight. Instead of trying and failing to find Alkaid before she vanishes, this time, he finds her, but it is still far too late to save her. Something or someone has taken her life, and although Aymeric tries desperately to reach out to her, she is beyond recalling or restoring.

Aymeric's distress only rises because of the horrors he is being forced to see, but that is not the only thing that compels him to reach for Alkaid, to pull himself even closer to her. It is not the smoothest of efforts, but the arms that reached desperately for her now lower to circle around her waist as best as they can. Her continued stress is stirring up a reaction in Aymeric as well, and he only wishes to comfort her and perhaps find a small amount of comfort for himself too. ]

[ The weight around her hips garners her attention away from her own distress. Alkaid swallows her emotions and forces herself to calm down as much as possible. Her free hand, still shaking to an extreme amount, raises to rest on the top of his head. The other moves from his hand to his arm. Both move together in order to soothe him. Hopefully, he can recognize that he has certainly found her. ]

... ssh, hush now, Aymeric. I'm right here. [ She leans back against the headboard to situate herself better. Then, she guides his head to rest against her lap. ] I said no one will take me away, and I plan to keep that promise.

[ She is certain that eventually the Scions will return to inform her of the latest advances with the cure to tempering. No doubt lingers in her mind that some of them perhaps are still very cross with her. Her decision has not changed and nor will it. Aymeric is still in need of her as at least a healer.

The hand from his arm lifts to gently brush away the tears slipping down his face. Then, she sighs, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling as some of the afternoon sun rays spread across the room once they find their way through the heavy curtains. Her fingers continue to brush through his hair and eventually settle at the hair at the nape of his neck. She absentmindedly toys with the strands as her thoughts change to what might happen when they do cure him.

Will he still wish to be married to her? How might they go about restoring Ishgard? They still need to find where King Thordan and his Knights Twelve are. That is, presuming that King Thordan has his knights. Should she ask Aymeric of it? That, she supposes, will be left to the state that he is in when he awakens. He might be as he has been... or return to the strong minded man who sees only Thordan's will.

Her thoughts continue to swirl and twist around one another even once her eyes close and her head dips to her shoulder. The hand in his hair only stills once sleep fully claims her yet again and she falls into a slumber. The quality of her sleep does not change and nor do the images that haunt her mind. Instead, she shifts uncomfortably in her sleep, even to the point where she eventually lays on her side with his head still against her lap. The sight is almost akin to a cat curling at the head of the sleeping owner of the bed.

Even as she slumbers and the all too familiar monsters haunt her dreams? A whine comes from her as she shakes. Perhaps the might not notice or even be aware of it. Yet, it is a semi-often occurrence in her sleep patterns since her return from Norvrandt. ]

[ Somehow, even though it goes against everything that Thordan wishes, and it further tests the limits of Aymeric's already vulnerable state, the only thing he wishes to do in this moment is to ease some of Alkaid's fears. The way his arms latch onto her is every bit for her benefit as it is for him, perhaps even moreso.

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. ]

[ She gently squeezes his arm as he cries out. It truly breaks her heart to hear. The fact she cannot aid him through whatever torments him seems like one more failure in her mind. She knows she cannot remove the dreams he must be having, but she wonders if she helps him at all through these moments. Her body leans towards him more as he presses into her lap. Hopefully, for now, he can find some comfort from her presence if naught else.

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. ]

Edited (she wanted more details) 2022-03-13 18:48 (UTC)

[ Perhaps it is because some part of him is deathly afraid of losing her, of having the images his mind is forcing him to see turn into reality. Although he may not fully realize it through the haze of enthrallment, his world brightened considerably the day she came into it. If she were to leave him either of her own accord or because something ripped them apart, he would never be the same again. His world would darken without her light, and although he might find a way to recover, the loss would certainly be a difficult mountain to climb, if he managed to at all.

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. ]

[ His touch causes her ears to lower in relaxed state; as they usually might when he strokes them. Her expression eases as well, moving from distress to simply sorrow. Even as her consciousness struggles to wake, she is always aware of his presence. The hand in his relaxes and her fingers move as if attempting to find where his might be to find their normal resting place between them.

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. ]

[ Feeling somewhat encouraged by her response, Aymeric continues to stroke her ears even as she stirs and her eyes open.

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. ]

[ Her ears remain pressed to her head even with his fingers moving across them. A deep part of her longs for him to touch her, hold her, shield her from all that is happening. She has to remind herself over and over that he is in no position to do that. He is barely himself and still injured. If she were to move as she would normally, than certainly King Thordan would strike at him and undo what progress to his recovery has already been made.

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.

Edited 2022-03-16 03:30 (UTC)

[ He may not be wholly himself, and he certainly is not fully recovered even though he feels considerably stronger now, but he has retained enough of himself to be concerned for her. With one hand, he reaches for her face, fingers coming to rest beneath her chin in a request that she allow him to lift her face to look at him. If she refuses or pulls away, he won't insist, of course.

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. ]

[ Her chin tilts at his request, eyes finally raising to look at his glowing blue ones. Until now, she had been able to keep the longing for him unseen. Her fatigue has rendered her unable to do so now and he can plainly see it. A small part of her knows that he will most likely try to use it to win her over to his side. While she wishes she could lie to herself and believe that she might be able to curl against him? She knows that his tempered state would skew everything to the agenda that drives King Thordan. ]

... 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. ]

What does it matter? [ In spite of himself, and certainly in spite of what the primal might say or think, a ripple of something akin to frustration courses through him. He is not angry with her, but all he really wishes is for her to be well and to care for herself. Even the primal's influence cannot drown that out. ] Are you so quick to give up?

[ 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. ]

N-no, that's...

[ 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...

[ His hands do come back to join with hers, almost as though he never pulled them away. But the words that he had so freely spoken just moments ago seem to have fled, replaced by something that is not an entirely unresponsive state but rather one that is so conflicted by his internal struggle that the power of speech is momentarily suppressed.

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. ]

[ Her hands curl into his hold as she would if he could hold her. She knows more than anything that she must rest and care for herself so t hat she might tend to the rest of his wounds. Rest, bathe, eat--just as she has helped him do. Yet, the fear of King Thordan taking him away or her inability keep him stable as he is practically paralyzes her in doing so. Just as it her nightmares truly keep her from sleeping as she might need.

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. ]

Edited 2022-03-18 16:43 (UTC)

[ If only he could be rid of the primal's influence once and for all. Never mind that such a notion is impossible for him to fathom in his present state. It is a strange sort of conundrum that most likely will not see resolution, at least not in any way he would be able to see. That reversal is possible is not a thought that has entered his mind, or at least, his mind that has been so clouded over by King Thordan's hold.

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. ]

echoes of truth | ❝ tales of loss and fire and flame. ❞

BOOK 3.5: EVER HEAVENSWARD

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

/rolls this up