[ Standing in his living room, he secures the final clasp upon his newly repaired armor. While the metal of the dragonsteel does not match the obsidian black of his set, staining an almost mirror-white like a scar betraying a old wound, he'll find that it's is fully movable and functional.
Pyra's hand lingers upon the clasp of the shoulder attachment; how the man ever donned it in the town or woods without an attendant or page is a mystery to her. ] How does it feel? Too loose? Too tight?
Though never to the point of debilitating, the dent in the body had been discomforting at times. Testing his movement, Berkut flexes his arms and walks in a small crescent. He notes no discomfort in either shoulder, real or imagined. His head lowers in both approval and thought.
The mismatched appearance doesn't bother him. No one in Chroma will care enough to comment on it. On the other hand, Pyra really didn't have to bother, either. ]
[ Pneuma would have made him a new full set with a wave of her hand. AND HE WOULD MATCH.
...His words almost sound like-- it can't be praise, but it likens to something of approval, and that's more than enough for Pyra. A bit of warmth returns to her eyes. Any crumb of recognition, any words that are not spoken with disdain for her... she's grateful for them.
She clasps her hands in front of her. ] I-is it so... surprising? [ Did he doubt she would? ]
Pausing in the middle of his inspection, Berkut turns his head toward Pyra. What a pitiful sight she makes. It's a touch reminiscent of her old self, though, and a welcome change from the aloof aura she's been wearing of late.
Very little can truly surprise him now. Still, her skill set is impressive as always. ]
[ When he turns to look at her, she recalls how they had first met: Chroma had placed them in roles once more, and he had been in the rags of a peasant, while she wore a prince's suit.
Wearing armor suits him so much better.
She allows herself a small smile, since it sounds like he's impressed. It wouldn't be terrible if she took a little pride in her work, would it? ] Ah.... well, I couldn't make the metal completely match yours. [ She steps closer to him, her eyes going to the splash of dragonsteel across the shoulder's surface. ] I'm sorry it's not perfect, but I hope it's to your liking.
That isn't Pyra's fault. Nonetheless, it's difficult to muster up anything akin to excitement. His gaze lingers on her smile before he cranes his neck, turning his face away.
In spite of this, his tone is not cold. Rather, it's lukewarm when he offers his answer. ]
It'll do. No armor remains perfect with proper use.
[ Did she do a Good Thing, she did a Good Thing, she thinks. She seems happy, at last, even though the emotion is muted. ]
Your armor carried other bruises upon it. [ She speaks quietly. ] ...As if... [ A pause.
As if you've been fighting for a long time in it. ] ...For how long have you been riding into battle, Lord Berkut? [ He comes from a world with a war in it, she knows this. But for how long has it been going on, for how long has he seen the brutality of the front lines? ]
I partook in a number of skirmishes when I was younger, but it was only after reaching fourteen years of age that I was assigned to the frontlines.
[ Prior to, the battles he'd attended before and after were largely those created by the disgruntled citizenry. Back then, who wasn't? Three years of poor harvest had been enough to put everyone on edge, leading some to overstep their boundaries. ]
[ He's so young. Fighting, killing is has all he's ever known. For someone who is next in line to the throne, and the only successor... Rigel must truly value strength to put him on the front lines at such a young age. ]
You speak as though I've been doing this for thrice as long.
[ On the contrary, he thinks, he's only just started. He's still got decades ahead of him, and he'll fight every day of his life if need be once all of this is over—whatever this is. ]
I must prove myself if I'm to sit the throne. Rest . . . is for the weary.
[ Is battling and war the only way to prove himself, she wonders.
Except, she can't ask that now. Of course strength is the only way to prove anything. Instead, she asks: ] Then, will you rest once you have the throne? Or will you continue to... [ Need to prove himself. ] to fight.
It must be part instinct that she doesn't like the idea of them being apart, because the thought alone makes her pale. That, and the lessons that Addam had instilled in her is that they should be close. That is the way she knows it to be, the "right" way. ]
You... do not wish for me to return to your world with you?
[ She's conflicted of what this may mean for her, and it's written clearly within her expression. She has a duty to her world... but at the same time-- her world will be safer without her in it. That is the ugly truth. That, and she's tied to him. To honor what she's become, to honor the memory of Addam and all that he has taught her, everything that he had wanted for her... shouldn't she stay with him?
He gives her purpose. A purpose. He accepts her power. Isn't that-- isn't that enough. Isn't that what she's wanted? Isn't this what she's wanted? ]
...You have not yet obtained your goals in your world. You are not emperor. The peasant militia still rallies against Rigel.
Are you certain that you're not simply using me as an excuse to go somewhere else?
[ He sees her conflict as clear as day, and he knows. She would still skirt around herself and lay down pretty words to entice him onto another path. In retrospect, she's done this many a time. Noticing, however, had been a little more difficult.
How strange that, now that they're bonded, this should garner her his pity. Conflict, she mentioned on the day he took her for himself. What a confused creature she is. ]
My goals are mine to obtain. The Deliverance will be crushed under the heel of the Rigelian army, not the edge of an otherworldly blade.
[ Perhaps he can defeat Alm with Pyra and Mythra by his side. But what good will that do? Moreover, he can tell that her heart isn't in it. ]
Once the curse is lifted, return to your world. Resolve the conflict that plagues you so.
[ It's not so much as an excuse, she tells herself but dares not say aloud, but just another reason to attend to him instead.
This might be useless to think about anyway; they might have no choice in being split at the end of this ordeal. And then--... what then. She'd have lost another driver to time and fate, and left with nothing.
But something else bothers her. ]
...I... may be of another world, but us together-- am I not a part of Rigel, now, wielded by your hand?
[ He blinks slowly. He doesn't understand from where she's coming. Ever since the grimace crossed her face while he made his choice, he's found it harder than ever to understand. Her way of thinking has changed . . . or has she always been like this?
Nor can he ever imagine her being a part of the Empire without looking utterly out of place. ]
Rigel belongs to Duma, not the Architect. I cannot say that your presence would be well-received.
[ His armor-- armor that she had repaired for him-- had such scars upon its surface; but if any of those strikes had been angled just a bit differently, if any of those arrows had been launched with more power, the blows may have been fatal. If not from the actual wound, then by infection.
It's just another reason to stay with him, to protect him.
Another reason to... stave off the inevitable of returning to her world, and begging her father for nothingness.
She looks to him as if he might have answers to questions she hasn't even asked. ] Even should I bring victory and glory to the empire?
[ The weight of her expression is heavy. Unfortunately, he can barely begin to decipher its meaning. All he sees is the look of someone who's lost, and it's unclear in how much of that he's had a hand.
Strength reigns in Rigel. If she seizes enough glory, the people might not care about her dubious origins. However, that's not the point he wishes to make. ]
[ She hesitates once more, but the delay is less before she answers this time. She straightens up. ]
If I am to have a duty... you wish it for to be completely to you. Is that why you ask? [ He wants someone steadfast and strong, not someone whose allegiance is split across worlds.
She is not the first of her siblings to fuck off to another dimension, soo..... ]
No . . . I would rather that you attend to yours first.
[ Is it a thinly veiled attempt at discouraging her from following, or is it really an encouragement to do what she should? Maybe it's both. As someone who would never abandon his duty, he shouldn't encourage otherwise in others. ]
[ Attending to hers basically means... well, it’s a death sentence— either she will be used to destroy the world, or she will return to her father and beg for her own destruction. ]
Knowing what I’ve told you [ Of rending the word. ] ...you would still wish for me to return to my world?
Destroying the world, she said, is her privilege as an instrument of control. She resembles an executioner who keeps her blade sharpened, awaiting the day she must inevitably cleave her ward despite her wish to abstain from such violence. Her Father has entrusted her with a weighty task, and who is Berkut to take her away from it? ]
If it comes down to your sundering the land and there is nowhere left to go, you may find me. I shall bring you to Rigel Castle myself.
[ For her part in saving his life—not that he'll ever admit it—he will grant her that haven. ]
[ It seems like a compromise of sorts... if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to be completely fine with her potentially dooming her own world.
She stares at him for a moment longer. ]
How... strange... [ She murmurs, blinking as if she’s looking at a puzzle or sorts. ] You—... do not demand complete [ Adherence? Obedience? ] loyalty to you, but instead would want me to fulfill my duty to Father first.
[ It seems her bond with him makes her understand him a little better, but not completely. She recognizes her error then and there. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
some time around the event?? or after?? who knows, we'll see
[ Standing in his living room, he secures the final clasp upon his newly repaired armor. While the metal of the dragonsteel does not match the obsidian black of his set, staining an almost mirror-white like a scar betraying a old wound, he'll find that it's is fully movable and functional.
Pyra's hand lingers upon the clasp of the shoulder attachment; how the man ever donned it in the town or woods without an attendant or page is a mystery to her. ] How does it feel? Too loose? Too tight?
no subject
Though never to the point of debilitating, the dent in the body had been discomforting at times. Testing his movement, Berkut flexes his arms and walks in a small crescent. He notes no discomfort in either shoulder, real or imagined. His head lowers in both approval and thought.
The mismatched appearance doesn't bother him. No one in Chroma will care enough to comment on it. On the other hand, Pyra really didn't have to bother, either. ]
You actually went and did it.
no subject
Pneuma would have made him a new full set with a wave of her hand. AND HE WOULD MATCH....His words almost sound like-- it can't be praise, but it likens to something of approval, and that's more than enough for Pyra. A bit of warmth returns to her eyes. Any crumb of recognition, any words that are not spoken with disdain for her... she's grateful for them.
She clasps her hands in front of her. ] I-is it so... surprising? [ Did he doubt she would? ]
no subject
He doesn't want to be neon green!!Pausing in the middle of his inspection, Berkut turns his head toward Pyra. What a pitiful sight she makes. It's a touch reminiscent of her old self, though, and a welcome change from the aloof aura she's been wearing of late.
Very little can truly surprise him now. Still, her skill set is impressive as always. ]
Is there anything you can't do?
no subject
Wearing armor suits him so much better.
She allows herself a small smile, since it sounds like he's impressed. It wouldn't be terrible if she took a little pride in her work, would it? ] Ah.... well, I couldn't make the metal completely match yours. [ She steps closer to him, her eyes going to the splash of dragonsteel across the shoulder's surface. ] I'm sorry it's not perfect, but I hope it's to your liking.
no subject
That isn't Pyra's fault. Nonetheless, it's difficult to muster up anything akin to excitement. His gaze lingers on her smile before he cranes his neck, turning his face away.
In spite of this, his tone is not cold. Rather, it's lukewarm when he offers his answer. ]
It'll do. No armor remains perfect with proper use.
no subject
Your armor carried other bruises upon it. [ She speaks quietly. ] ...As if... [ A pause.
As if you've been fighting for a long time in it. ] ...For how long have you been riding into battle, Lord Berkut? [ He comes from a world with a war in it, she knows this. But for how long has it been going on, for how long has he seen the brutality of the front lines? ]
no subject
I partook in a number of skirmishes when I was younger, but it was only after reaching fourteen years of age that I was assigned to the frontlines.
[ Prior to, the battles he'd attended before and after were largely those created by the disgruntled citizenry. Back then, who wasn't? Three years of poor harvest had been enough to put everyone on edge, leading some to overstep their boundaries. ]
. . . Three years, at least.
no subject
And you've never grown tired of it, have you.
Of fighting...
no subject
[ On the contrary, he thinks, he's only just started. He's still got decades ahead of him, and he'll fight every day of his life if need be once all of this is over—whatever this is. ]
I must prove myself if I'm to sit the throne. Rest . . . is for the weary.
no subject
Except, she can't ask that now. Of course strength is the only way to prove anything. Instead, she asks: ] Then, will you rest once you have the throne? Or will you continue to... [ Need to prove himself. ] to fight.
no subject
A ruler who requires rest so soon after his coronation is hardly suited to rule.
In any case, I do not see why this should concern you. We will have long parted ways by then. Don't trouble yourself.
no subject
It must be part instinct that she doesn't like the idea of them being apart, because the thought alone makes her pale. That, and the lessons that Addam had instilled in her is that they should be close. That is the way she knows it to be, the "right" way. ]
You... do not wish for me to return to your world with you?
no subject
[ It figures that love wouldn't have been enough for someone (something) like her. All that matters to her is following her wielder, huh. ]
no subject
He gives her purpose. A purpose. He accepts her power. Isn't that-- isn't that enough. Isn't that what she's wanted? Isn't this what she's wanted? ]
...You have not yet obtained your goals in your world. You are not emperor. The peasant militia still rallies against Rigel.
Our power will see them through.
no subject
[ He sees her conflict as clear as day, and he knows. She would still skirt around herself and lay down pretty words to entice him onto another path. In retrospect, she's done this many a time. Noticing, however, had been a little more difficult.
How strange that, now that they're bonded, this should garner her his pity. Conflict, she mentioned on the day he took her for himself. What a confused creature she is. ]
My goals are mine to obtain. The Deliverance will be crushed under the heel of the Rigelian army, not the edge of an otherworldly blade.
[ Perhaps he can defeat Alm with Pyra and Mythra by his side. But what good will that do? Moreover, he can tell that her heart isn't in it. ]
Once the curse is lifted, return to your world. Resolve the conflict that plagues you so.
no subject
This might be useless to think about anyway; they might have no choice in being split at the end of this ordeal. And then--... what then. She'd have lost another driver to time and fate, and left with nothing.
But something else bothers her. ]
...I... may be of another world, but us together-- am I not a part of Rigel, now, wielded by your hand?
no subject
Nor can he ever imagine her being a part of the Empire without looking utterly out of place. ]
Rigel belongs to Duma, not the Architect. I cannot say that your presence would be well-received.
no subject
It's just another reason to stay with him, to protect him.
Another reason to... stave off the inevitable of returning to her world, and begging her father for nothingness.
She looks to him as if he might have answers to questions she hasn't even asked. ] Even should I bring victory and glory to the empire?
no subject
Strength reigns in Rigel. If she seizes enough glory, the people might not care about her dubious origins. However, that's not the point he wishes to make. ]
What of your duty to your world?
no subject
If I am to have a duty... you wish it for to be completely to you. Is that why you ask? [ He wants someone steadfast and strong, not someone whose allegiance is split across worlds.
She is not the first of her siblings to fuck off to another dimension, soo..... ]
no subject
[ Is it a thinly veiled attempt at discouraging her from following, or is it really an encouragement to do what she should? Maybe it's both. As someone who would never abandon his duty, he shouldn't encourage otherwise in others. ]
no subject
Knowing what I’ve told you [ Of rending the word. ] ...you would still wish for me to return to my world?
no subject
Destroying the world, she said, is her privilege as an instrument of control. She resembles an executioner who keeps her blade sharpened, awaiting the day she must inevitably cleave her ward despite her wish to abstain from such violence. Her Father has entrusted her with a weighty task, and who is Berkut to take her away from it? ]
If it comes down to your sundering the land and there is nowhere left to go, you may find me. I shall bring you to Rigel Castle myself.
[ For her part in saving his life—not that he'll ever admit it—he will grant her that haven. ]
no subject
She stares at him for a moment longer. ]
How... strange... [ She murmurs, blinking as if she’s looking at a puzzle or sorts. ] You—... do not demand complete [ Adherence? Obedience? ] loyalty to you, but instead would want me to fulfill my duty to Father first.
[ It seems her bond with him makes her understand him a little better, but not completely. She recognizes her error then and there. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(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)