crystalline dreamer.

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          “ ah . . . ”   allowing tataru to have her way with him upon his waking back on the source had seemed an inevitable conclusion to his journey as   crystal exarch   , yet , now , as he feels the warmth on his cheeks   &&   the near - frantic twitch of his ears , he wonders if he should have fought a little harder against the clips that keep his vision clear of stray strands of red .    this isn’t the   first time   he’s been invited along for one of the   warrior of light’s   adventures , yet , there’s still that   flicker   of flustered excitement that arrives with the thought that   his hero   thinks of him as an equal , despite all the subterfuge   &&   tricks .   he can’t help , nor does he want to , the twist of a smile that curls along his lips   &&   eyes with such unfettered   delight   as he responds ,   “ yes , of course !   i think i can put aside my research for a bit . ”

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      interest :   piqued .   he’s read every piece of literature of importance to the warrior of light ; even the most casual of notes in regards to them became a tether for him to cling to in the days , weeks , years , decades that came to be his eternal existence   (   &&   prison )   on the first .   he’s read nothing on the young man that hovers at the gates of   mor dhona ,   &&   yet , he feels as if there’s something special , something extraordinary about the youth .   &&   perhaps , had the warrior of light been there to contain the historian - turned exarch - turned adventurer   &&   scion , he wouldn’t have approached the young man that exuded the same light   &&   strength of his beloved hero with such careless ease , nor would he speak with such frankness ---   &&   never mind the twinkle of curiosity that smolders in those crimson eyes of allag ,   “ ah , well met !   you appear to be a little , uh , how shall i say ---   lost ? ”

introducing g’raha tia , former crystal exarch , && newest member of the scions of the seventh dawn   /   no icons or graphics   /   independent && private   /   discord available upon request   /   21+ only

introducing g’raha tia , former crystal exarch , && newest member of the scions of the seventh dawn   /   no icons or graphics   /   independent && private   /   discord available upon request   /   21+ only

If there's any moment she's glad she's developed her culinarian skills, it's now - with Archon Bread fresh out of the oven, warm slices already placed upon a plate for G'raha's consumption. She's a bit timid in it, admittedly - but he'd liked it on the First, so she'd figured he might enjoy it still now. "Here you go!" / from stella & @dawnled​ (i forgot i wouldn’t know who to link this to since stella doesn’t have her own account oopsides)

     to be back on the source feels surreal, like something out of one of his endless dreams from those decades spent asleep in the crystal tower. it’s not a feeling he can shake easily, this strange feeling of being out of time, out of sorts, out of place ---   but he’ll take it over the despair of believing himself stuck on the first or the resignation of believing his death the only way to save the warrior of light.

     && she arrives, as if called by his melancholy thoughts, as he’s rotating a still stiff shoulder in its socket && adjusting the clothes provided so joyously by tataru for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time. despite having only been asleep in this version of reality for months or years, he’s still sore ---   except that soreness reaches into body && heart && mind, all, settles there with the knowledge that his friends && allies believe him dead, a crystal statue upon a crystal tower.

     it’s for the best, he tells himself again && again. he had to die to not abandon everyone && he had to die to protect the savior of worlds. he had to.

     ‘here you go!’

     && her voice silences the cacophony within his heart, his mind. eyes of crimson, royal eyes   ---   a residue of a connection made out of a necessity, a sacrifice promised for the sake of protecting the world (&& it’s no wonder the warrior of light so often sulks at him, when he’s reminded over && over again of his own lack of belief in his own self-worth, as he throws himself to the fire at any chance given)   ---   meet stella’s, before dipping to the plate held between her precious, so precious, hands.

     “oh!” 

     surprise blisters bright in his heart at the realization the warrior of light ---   no, not simply the warrior of light, but his friend as she so often insists && reminds him   --- made him the signature dish of his youth. his cheeks warm bright with his surprise && the subsequent flustered bloom within his chest. it’s a pressure there, pulsing in time with his heart && yet, meek with the disbelief that she might think of him first, of all people. && still, she stands there before him, smiling so warmly, so shyly, her own cheeks blooming with roses && her eyes so full of hope.

     how could he ever deny her?

     “th- thank you. it looks wonderful.” 

     he’s not lying; he promised himself he wouldn’t lie to her anymore. he’s no longer the crystal exarch; his actions no longer need to be draped in subterfuge && secret plans made on his own. they’re partners && friends now. friends don’t lie to friends. it’s a concept he’s still, unfortunately, getting used to.

     g’raha tia glances from the plate held towards him, to the woman holding it in a silent question for permission to take one of the offered slices. && oh, she’s smiling, that bright smile that sets stars free in her eyes, && his heart pulses loud in his ears ---   the very same ears that flick && twitch animatedly with every little noise, every brush of cloth, every distant laugh ---   before he finally reaches out with a timidity that wouldn’t suit the crystal exarch, but certainly suits the newest scion of the seventh dawn.

     the slice of bread feels && tastes exactly as he remembered it ---   heavy && difficult to chew && pungent in all the best ways. it reminds him of his youth, of a home he hasn’t visited in hundreds of years ---

     “it is perfect.”

     && in the ultimate act of bravery, he leans over to brush a fumbling kiss to her cheek ---    it’s the scariest moment of his long, impossibly long, life; truly, he thinks, he’d rather face his death again, than to face stella, warrior of light && darkness, savior of multiple worlds, after such a presumptuous act. he feels the heat radiating from his cheeks down, down, down to his neck && collarbones; his ears flick back against his head with the tightening of his chest && throat && those blessed-cursed eyes of his focus on a spot over stella’s shoulders, as if the act will somehow help calm the sizzling, fried synapses of his brain.

"What does the Crystarium look like?"

          from   @dawnled​​   ;

      the crystarium. 

   there’s a pang in his chest; he reaches unconsciously for that spot above his heart && his eyelids lower, lashes hiding away that momentary ache that comes from missing friends.

   still, that smile remains. it’s a little bittersweet, that earnest expression of fondness that so often accompanies his sadness. 

         ---   ah, right!

   && just like that, g’raha tia drags himself from his introspection with a bewildered flourish of activity. his tail flicks with his sudden agitation &&, despite the smile, there’s something flustered in the way his ears tilt back sharply. fingers brush through his bangs, not quite nervously, but with the sort of tic that borders on it.

   “the crystarium?”

   curiosity casts a simple radiance in those ruby eyes that speak of age && wisdom ---   eyes that are as out of place, a creeping shadow of a time not so long ago, as they perfectly matched with the boyish energy of the newly made scion. his lips part with a question of his own for this adventurer that carries an aetherial pulse unlike that of the first or the source.

   but they’ve only just met && just as this young man named, riku, has secrets, so too, does he.

   “it is beautiful.”

   simple, lacking in his usual eloquence ---   but his mind’s drifted back to that place he called home for so, so long. his prison && their sanctuary; a fair trade, if he says so himself. he thinks of the twinkling, glittering spires, the crystalline canopies, the temperate weather that allows the merchants to stay outside all year long; && then, he thinks of the people.

   “it’s not the buildings or the towers that makes it so wonderful. those are just things... but the people are special. they’re tenacious. i’ve never seen them give up. not once. && they’re kind. without their hearts && their love && their joy, the cystarium would be no different than any other place.”

   the scion speaks with the pride of a father; there’s a subtle warmth in his eyes, a nostalgia from which he speaks with, && his smile holds none of that enigma that served him so well as the crystal exarch. genuine love, a delicate thing, clasped between his hands, && all for the people he entrusted the first to.

   his prison... but his home, too.