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. ]
[ This time, he stares at her for a much briefer moment before exhaling audibly. The strange one is her, not him. ]
You have much to learn if you think loyalty can be demanded.
[ And he leaves it at that. As for her duty to her father, that's for Pyra to figure out. The future of her world is no business of his, and he doubts the people living in it will take any catastrophic developments lying down. He's got his own share of gods to deal with in Valentia . . . ]
Pyra and Mythra... want so desperately to do something right. They also, despite knowing what they must to do ensure the safety in their world, want to exist. Despite the circumstances of being bound to Berkut, he accepts their power and gives them a purpose. It's scraps-- scraps of feeling like she's doing something good, that they are worth something to another. The only one who has told her to live for herself had broken her heart, the one that told her to look to the future had dismissed her.
Being tied to Berkut like this... is the only happiness she's known in a long while.
"Happiness". ]
...How am I to protect you, if I am not with you? [ Sure, he is more than capable of fending for himself. But her eyes drift to the repaired shoulder of his armor. Do such creatures exist in his world, where their power is far greater than that of a man's? ]
[ She sounds so sincere and desperate, as though she craves his validation. A weapon is meant to be wielded, after all. But the weapon of a god ought to have more self-esteem than this, and he notes her fixation on protecting rather than attacking.
What does he know, anyway? And what does the rest of the worlds think of a non-pious man wielding the Architect's daughter?
Berkut's hand comes up to touch his armored shoulder. Did she not repair this in order to protect him in the event that she isn't there? He needed the fix, so he'd allowed it. ]
I am Rigel's proudest son, as well as the heir to the imperial throne. If I cannot defend myself, I am unworthy of claiming to be either. My world may have its gods and Terrors, but extraordinary beings like you don't exist there . . . to my knowledge, anyway. [ His voice takes on a higher pitch of apathy. ] Your concern should lie in ensuring that your strength doesn't go to waste.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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? ]
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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.
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And you've never grown tired of it, have you.
Of fighting...
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[ 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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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[ It figures that love wouldn't have been enough for someone (something) like her. All that matters to her is following her wielder, huh. ]
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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.
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[ 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.
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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?
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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.
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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?
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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?
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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..... ]
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[ 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. ]
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Knowing what I’ve told you [ Of rending the word. ] ...you would still wish for me to return to my world?
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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. ]
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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. ]
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You have much to learn if you think loyalty can be demanded.
[ And he leaves it at that. As for her duty to her father, that's for Pyra to figure out. The future of her world is no business of his, and he doubts the people living in it will take any catastrophic developments lying down. He's got his own share of gods to deal with in Valentia . . . ]
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[ Her gaze lowers.
Pyra and Mythra... want so desperately to do something right. They also, despite knowing what they must to do ensure the safety in their world, want to exist. Despite the circumstances of being bound to Berkut, he accepts their power and gives them a purpose. It's scraps-- scraps of feeling like she's doing something good, that they are worth something to another. The only one who has told her to live for herself had broken her heart, the one that told her to look to the future had dismissed her.
Being tied to Berkut like this... is the only happiness she's known in a long while.
"Happiness". ]
...How am I to protect you, if I am not with you? [ Sure, he is more than capable of fending for himself. But her eyes drift to the repaired shoulder of his armor. Do such creatures exist in his world, where their power is far greater than that of a man's? ]
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What does he know, anyway? And what does the rest of the worlds think of a non-pious man wielding the Architect's daughter?
Berkut's hand comes up to touch his armored shoulder. Did she not repair this in order to protect him in the event that she isn't there? He needed the fix, so he'd allowed it. ]
I am Rigel's proudest son, as well as the heir to the imperial throne. If I cannot defend myself, I am unworthy of claiming to be either. My world may have its gods and Terrors, but extraordinary beings like you don't exist there . . . to my knowledge, anyway. [ His voice takes on a higher pitch of apathy. ] Your concern should lie in ensuring that your strength doesn't go to waste.
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