awashlogs | catch all for july

[ ....But what is she doing, again. More delaying, more diverting. More not-- giving credit to Tristan, when he came all this way, giving his time and patience, to listen to her. Maybe it's because she's been five hundred years alone that she has trouble opening up to others, maybe it's because she's only had herself and Mythra to converse for those five hundred years, that they do not know how to talk to others.

Her smile fades soon after. ]

....Tristan. I.... We [ For she speaks for both herself and Mythra here. ]

I love this world, and the people in it.

But I have also fallen in love with others, and it is... We need to stop. It is enough.

[ She’s a little right, and a little wrong, but he sees no point in correcting her right now. That they are both on the side of humanity is enough. That she still has doubts, that she still must close away a part of herself—that is a dark tower that must be overcome.

But that is also a place that a knight such as him might not be able to tread. Not alone, at least. ]

Why do you think so?

[ Another encouraging squeeze of her hand. ]

Do you find love…painful?

Wouldn't you know best?

[ ...There she goes again, trying to deflect. It comes out as naturally as smiling at this point.

She tries again: ]

I... ought to remind myself, that what I have here, what friendships I have made here-- is more than enough. That people are alive, is more than enough. That they can smile and be... happy and safe...

[ Mythra's words that day had been final. Enough. ] It is enough.

[ He places his free hand over his chest when she makes her first reply, smiling a little in spite of himself. Yes, he would know best, wouldn’t he? ]

Those are indeed worthy goals to aspire to, Pyra. But still you speak of others, and less so of yourself.

[ He sighs. ]

How sad…you are unhappy, despite all these wonderful things you wish for your friends.

[ He would know better than others, which is why she had sought his opinion and thoughts before this, veiled in benign curiosity and apologies so as to not potentially change what he would have said otherwise. That he has not moved on after all this time, that he is still basking in his sorrow is... tragic.

But she’s the same— she’s pitiful, wretched. She hadn’t moved on from all those years ago, her sorrow is still prominent, she still hurts people... and she has to acknowledge that she is hurt as well, even if admitting it seems selfish. Mythra created her to be better, but she had made her under grave stress and upon finally acknowledging the death of a loved one; she had picked up pieces of traits that she admired and thought would be good and thought that would be nice and thought that would be wonderful and thought would be resilient— and.... ]

It doesn’t take any effort at all to be happy for those you love. [ She’s sure many would feel the same. ]

It is... worth seeing others content and safe, [ Finally her optimism slips and breaks, her smile falls. She gives in, her expression unravels. ] while not knowing it ourselves.

[ And there it is, a conclusion to both of their conversations. He’s worn her down at last, it seems. She is finally agreeing with him that ah, how sad is a way of life, and she can’t even manage the energy to be hopeful for him.

...Finally admitting that, giving in to the hopelessness he has influenced is— she doesn’t even know why she’s tearing up. Maybe because being so hopeless doesn’t feel like herself, maybe because she wishes she could be happy, maybe because she doesn't feel she has a right to feel sad in the first place, when she never originally had emotions. Maybe because she knows better now. ]

[ That he has not moved on is entirely because he’s lost that part of himself which makes him human. It is the same for all Heroic Spirits, and he wonders if it is indeed the same for similar beings like her. Tools. And yet…not.

He sighs, rolling to his side to tug her into an embrace, burying his nose in her fiery hair, smelling the wind and the grass on it. Maybe even the stars. ]

How sad…

[ But what else can he say to cheer her up? It’s clear such words coming from him would ring hollow. And yet he knows that there is a crucial difference between them—one that makes him even less human than her.

Her life is only just beginning. ]

Pyra…for one such as you, you should not bear it alone. I know that as a being destined to fall into eternal despair I have no right to this, yet I offer it all the same: this space between my arms. My sympathy. My love.

[ His arms, his sympathy, his love— and for someone who believes she does not deserve these things, she is all the more grateful to him for offering any of it.

Yet she returns the embrace like she’s starved for knowing the comfort and sympathy of another, like she can imagine that she belongs, holding him close, head tucked beneath his chin, buried into his chest. His scar lies beneath her fingers that cling to his shirt, so deep, so ingrained in him, and still he can find the means to try to comfort her...

Her shoulders shudder as she draws a breath, but it’s too late to stop her tears.

Time passes, and when at last her silent sorrow seem to quiet, Elysium’s stars have all blinked out one by one. ] Th—...thank you.

[ Oddly enough, her mind feels a little clearer, her heart empty, her feelings calmed. There is no turning back the wheel of time, no undoing the hurt she has caused, the loss she has experienced, no effective means of ridding herself of emotions she had never meant to have. She can be grateful for knowing what she once had. But moving forward she can remain... she can try to remain distant and content with simply loving the world as it is.

Trying is all she can do. ]

catch all for july

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