⚜ of divine purpose

                                         ⚜ of divine purpose

TIME MEANS SO LITTLE  in the grand scheme of things. A day, a week, a year, a decade… they all fade into the grand chasm of infinity she has founder self lost to. She wonders sometimes if anyone still remembers. If they ever raise a glass to the first oracle that had single handedly saved the people of Eos and condemned the Fleuret bloodline to divine servitude at the very same time. 

Aera doubts it. She suspects she’s the stuff of fairytales these days. A happy little myth lost to the ages, paraded out once in a blue moon as the shining example of sacrifice and the greater good. It’s almost poetic really, a divine tragedy that means this, just like every other year, is spend in quiet isolation, mourning the life she never got to live and wishing, perhaps even hoping, that maybe in the next one the gods will be kinder. 

     ❝ Here’s to another year. ❞

| — . ♕ . — |    The way she spoke his name, like some forbidden homily, struck down to his very core. It ached in the same way someone’s soul wrenched and shuttered at the remembrance of loss, empty and devoid of a loved one. This time the sensation was different, however, the warmth of comfort beating in the very center, as if embedding some foreign trickle of happiness into his being. It was a near alien sensation, as he hadn’t experienced it in so very long. Still, it was distinctive enough that he could recall it, times past… 

And always revolving around her. It was always her. Even in her passing, she continued to control every aspect of his existence, akin to a lovebird that had allowed itself to wither and succumb to misery once losing it’s mate. Aera had always been the center of his world, and even death had not changed that. 

“Hardly undercharging, my love,” he whispered, raising a hand to gently brush the streams of tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He loathed to see her emotion swell to the point of making her distraught. They had both suffered so intensely, it was terribly unfair for either of them to feel more grief or unhappiness. Ardyn was not so naïve enough to believe it would not happen, but he could go to lengths to comfort her when capable, if what they had was coming to that.

And… was it…? 

Was he truly ready to accede to her presence? She had tailed behind him, watching him, observing. He had denied her at times, pretending her apparition was not present. Usually he would converse with her, but always under the knowing that she was… a ghost, more or less. 

Could he hold a ghost in his arms in such a way, though? Could he smile at the feeling of the kiss she pressed to his cheek? Could he rest a kiss atop her head as he was doing in response? It was in that very moment that he decided, ghost or not, that they deserved to have whatever unconventional connection they were sharing, once more. 

“Besides, could it truly be considered an undercharge when it benefits me, as well?” An almost playful quirk danced on his lips and he held her tighter, secretly fearful that she might fade away if he were to release her, back to whatever ethereal plane she had appeared from. No, he refused to consider the idea of losing her again. Rationally, he knew that fate never worked in his favour– their favour, but was it so wrong to hope for a change?  “On top of that, do you truly believe I would assert the demand that you leave, even should you object to the proposition of tending to the roses? Surely, even with the passage of time, you must know me better than that, my sweet.”          

THE NOSTALGIA COMES TOO EASILY; like stepping into a threadbare sweater from yesteryear, faded, torn and patched, yet as warm and comforting as any replacement that had dared to take its place. Granted, the memory still frays at the edges, underpinned by a sense of LOSS and unrepentant aching for a life so brutally cut short - but if this awkward middle-ground is the SALVATION the gods will offer her, then Bahamut be damned she will CHERISH it. 

And to that end, Aera does. Glassy eyed though she may be in his presence, the emotion that threatens to OVERWHELM is nothing short of heartfelt. She’s glad to be there with him; toeing a line between spectral and tangible, an anomaly as much as a certainty, clinging to whatever divine scraps the world would let her taste before this blissful reality turns to ash once more. As ever, he feels like HOME. The only place she wanted to belong. The place she could finally rest. 

❝If it benefits you, isn’t that just good business?❞ A mirroring smile tugs at the edges of expressive lips before she vanishes against the cocooning shroud of his arms, her palm flat against his chest in awe of the heart that still beats, even as her own ribcage sits hollow and empty, devoid of such hallowed life. Is that an odd thing to miss? The proof of vitality; of existence and life itself. In one breath it sits as a comfort that the man she adored had ENDURED in some shade of the word, yet in others the realisation stings; that it isn’t so much a life as it is an eternity of unrepentant and prolonged AGONY. 

Of all the unexpected blessings to greet him, it’s the press of her mouth to the spot over his heart that seals her pledge to stay. It’s more soft and well meaning than anything sordid, a humbled gesture of tangible and visceral appreciation for every burden he continued to shoulder - including her own presence, which, experience alone had more than confirmed was melancholic at best and conflicting at worst. ❝Ah…❞ How quickly he calls her out! Her palm again seeks refuge against his cheek, the burn of blinding cerulean into eyes she knows so well, unrepentant even as she yields to his own observation. 

               Her expression, calm and placid, betrays no hint of malice. Why would it? There exists not a malevolent bone in her body. There had been reason to doubt her once – if only due to the onslaught of what was once A GLARINGLY EMPTY FUTURE, the continuation of a story that he hadn’t wanted to keep writing. But facing her now, in the flesh, willingly subject to his cycling moods and all but forced to reconcile with THE CREATURE HE’S BECOME, he cannot fathom what reason she has to taunt him.

               ❝Some of them SHOULD.❞

               There’s audible tension to his voice, teetering dangerously close to the knife’s edge, and Ardyn recognizes that he is just one wrong word away from giving in to the very primal urge to do her IRREPARABLE HARM. Bewilderment overtakes that scowl, touched with but a twinge of guilt. That the idea had crossed his mind is staggering, as BLISTERING as her touch should be with the stark contrast of light and shadow between them.

IF AERA SOUGHT TO TAUNT ANYONE, it would surely only be herself. No sane woman would keep picking away at old faded wounds; continuing to offer her heart in the palm of her hand to a sharp toothed stray that knew only how to bite and bark. Maybe it’s DENIAL moreso than compassion. A futile inability to reconcile with the nature of her present reality, or at the very least a wilful desire not to. How naive she must be, to continue to look for glimpses of a man long since dead; searching for the fragments of an old life, lost to carnage and dust, as if by some merciful miracle he might come to MEND himself. 

❝Hmm.❞ Lips press together in a defiant hum, the shift of her weight altogether disconcerted by so effortless a rebuttal, yet there’s no denying that his rejection continues to WOUND her. How many times has she tried this now? Reached out to him. Prayed for him. Sought to find some shred of comfort amidst a shell so twisted and barbarised it’s scarcely possible to imagine that he is even close to all that she’d once known. Yet despite herself, her AFFECTION remains. Even here and now, heart wrapped in barbed wire and rusting under the storm of his moods - the oracle doesn’t have it in her to ABANDON him. 

Aerith’s immediate reaction was to crinkle her nose. The expression playful and impish in equal measure, a quiet challenge. ‘Do it’! she dared without speaking. To be stolen away from Somnus meant the gates to a world of adventure being thrown wide - for she imagined Ardyn wouldn’t be far behind with his brother in search of the wayward young women. For their protection and nothing else, of course, the brothers certainly wouldn’t think their days dull or lacking if the Oracle truly did steal her away for some well-earned girl time.

“Even you had to sneak around the rules?” Her question wasn’t intended to sound quite so incredulous. Given what she had learnt about royal families and their duties in her time with the younger Prince of course she could believe it, but when even the divine messenger had to resort to stolen moments it inspired little hope for a mere servant. “That’s madness. I thought the divide I felt was a clash of social status.” A great exhale escaped and she fought not to tip her head back. She could dedicate more time and consideration to these new threads of information when she was alone. “That must be the pastime for heads of royal families. Sit down in times of peace and quiet and think of more rules to abide by.”

It was a playful musing, one that didn’t hold any venom. Her mother and father expected a standard of behaviour from her and she shouldered the consequences whenever she overstepped enough for stories to reach them. The expectations of a soldier and a farmer were as valid as the expectations of a King or a Queen. Even she would admit that her conduct while seeking more time with her beloved hadn’t always been her best representation of self.

Though when Aera continued, her hand lifted with a quick snap of her fingers. “That’s it! Our first shared meal can be dismantling all of the unnecessary social rules that none of us would wish upon future generations.” Aerith had the good graces to offer an apologetic little grin, finally releasing her hold on that conversation to give way to something more lighthearted and appropriate for first meetings. “Hmmm! He can part with a couple. He has access to people who will tell him some things about me, so perhaps it’s time to make it fair.”

Then she paused for a beat. There was a genuine shift, a sprinkling of self-doubt tarnishing her smile. “I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.” It felt important to add that. More than social standing, she had an obligation to protect her reputation. It was unspoken but she had a troubled relationship with the Caelum parents. The last thing she wanted was to be a black mark on Aera by association. “I will accept your invitation wholeheartedly, but if ever my presence becomes a burden..” she shook her head. “No one else should be made to suffer because I don’t quite fit.”

SHE COULDN’T FAULT THE APPEAL, even if she tried. In impish jest it might be, but there was still something wholly endearing about whisking away her new friend. Would it lead to a grand and merry chase through the wilds of Tenebrae and out into the big wide untouched world? Almost certainly. But wouldn’t that sense of ADVENTURE also bring with it a chance to live and thrive and embrace the sheer unprecedented SPONTANEITY of youth while it still endured?  ( Not to mention the chance to wreak unchecked mischief amongst a pair of brothers who needed reminding every once in a blue moon, that their intended paramours were certainly a force to be reckoned with. )

❝I did. Sometimes more successfully than others. ❞ She can smile now looking back, perhaps even LAUGH at some of the more lamentable moments of her early courtship, but it was never meant to further enforce the difficulties that may lay ahead for the florist. If anything, Aera was attempting to bridge the gap. To break down those inscrutable little walls and show her that at the end of the day, the struggle was still UNIVERSAL. ❝ One time, I had to try climbing down a trellis to meet with Ardyn at some unholy hour of the morning. It was horribly romantic, right up until the moment I got stuck. ❞ A small snort leaves her, blonde strands swaying as the Oracle laughed. 

❝ He did come to check on me when I didn’t arrive, which you know, was very sweet. But I think the real cherry there was when he fetched Somnus to come and LAUGH rather than help. ❞  Cheeks awash with a faint tinge of pink, Aera hummed thoughtfully. It may not be the dignified persona she has been raised and moulded to be, but it speaks volumes about her sense of humour and her connection to the two people she holds dear outside of her own ties of flesh and blood. 

❝If their job is to make the rules, then I’m almost certain our job is to BREAK them!❞ The constraints of nobility would never make sense. There was always one rule or another that demanded something ludicrous. Don’t speak, don’t act, don’t think. Just sit and serve, do as you’re told, don’t question or circumvent or try and break the chains of regal obligation. The gods weren’t much better, although at least in serving Bahamut and the will of the Astrals there was an illusion of choice. Some higher meaning given to the behaviour that in all honesty stole so much liberty from those it was thrust upon. 

As playful a musing as it had been, there still remains so much truth in the words Aerith utters. A kind of weighted reality that sits so heavily upon already burdened shoulders. Even if their lives had been largely different, the EXPECTATION was still the same. They were still destined for something, still bound in by duty and someone else’s ideas rather than their own. That in itself, made Aera all the more determined to let Aerith have her peace with Somnus. To find joy and freedom and the happiness that they both so sorely deserved. 

❝I find there tend to be various stages of secrets with him. You can usually tell how deeply embarrassing it is by the colour he turns. It’s almost a bit of a sport, seeing if you can get him to a specific shade of pink.❞ Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Aera had tried of course, to embarrass Somnus at various points in her life, but she wasn’t quite the seasoned professional that Ardyn was. Something that the brunette at her side might even hopefully witness should this dinner invitation come to the fruitful conclusion the oracle had hoped for. 

She can sense the shift in tone before the flower lover speaks, that sudden apprehensive dip in energy already striking deep within the Fleuret’s chest. ❝ Aerith…❞ Softly but firmly her words topple from her lips, the insistent and soothing clasp of both hands around botanically blessed digits so painstakingly determined to make the poor girl feel welcomed. ❝ You will ALWAYS be wanted and you will always be WELCOME. People are never burdens; and between you and me? If someone thinks you don’t fit that’s THEIR problem. I’m not sure I’d ever want to fit in with that kind of exclusionary nonsense anyway. ❞

@holyguardian​ continued from here - because I’m a menace and I had to. 

IF EVER THERE WAS A SOUND TO SOOTHE HER SOUL, it was surely the laughter of a likeminded person. The brunette is younger, and certainly more animated than the oracle before her, yet her passion and aura of outright mischief was as infectious as the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She didn’t need to hide her amusement from Aera, in fact, the young Fleuret welcomed it, revelling in the light hearted chime even despite the valiant attempt made to muffle it. 

❝Don’t even tempt me, or I’ll be stealing you away from Somnus myself!❞ It’s a rueful tease at best, but the warmth of those encapsulating hands brings with it a spark of friendship the blonde couldn’t rival. How many people outside of the Caelums had extended the hand of camaraderie? How many had found reason to look beyond the shroud of divine blessing and see at it’s beating heart a woman that was in dire need of companionship? She loved Ardyn, much like she adored his brother - but that didn’t mean from time to time she hadn’t also longed for a decidedly more feminine influence in her life. It seems the gods had finally answered her prayers, ( although which of them exactly would be a subject left open to much debate. )

❝You’d be surprised.❞ Aera utters as she watches the gardener retreat, the straightening of her posture so effortless and at ease, even despite the woman to whom she was speaking. ❝There was a time in not too distant memory, I still remember having to sneak out of windows to meet with Ardyn. Or to scuttle away into the depths of ancient ruins if I wanted a moment’s peace to be with him. I know it’s not quite the same, but the secrecy, the detachment to step away from the people you want to share your joy with because of one silly rule or another — it’s exhausting no matter who you are.❞ 

She knows full well she is privileged to life the life she does. That even under the thumb of Bahamut himself, she is still a royal. Still of regal blood and afforded a degree of luxury in life that a great many are not. She is holy by all accounts, a china doll placed upon a shelf, expected to serve as some elaborate mouthpiece for a voice she’s not quite so sure is always the right one. Yet even despite this pressure and a life under scrutiny, never once has Aera had to worry about where her next meal was to be found, or whether a roof would remain over her head. Perhaps that’s why she feels compelled to shatter these ill conceived boundaries of rank and reputation. To equalise where she can and offer the same heartfelt welcome to Aerith as she would any other. 

Aera is remarkably fond of Lunafreya and Ravus for obvious reasons. They are her family, her legacy, her history. And while they arguably don’t stem from her bloodline, they are forged from her brother’s and in the absence of any other family, she can see a lot of the people she left behind in them. There’s something wholesome and familiar about it, and to that end she will always do her best to watch over them both and ideally keep them from repeating the mistakes that led to her untimely demise. 

A little more unconventionally however, she is also incredibly invested in the young Prince Noctis, much to Ardyn’s chagrin. Maybe it’s the absence of his mother, and later his father, that calls her to action, but she does hold a soft spot for him and will if prompted, align herself to his cause rather than that of Ardyn or even the gods themselves. In that respect you could argue she’s simply fulfilling her duty as the oracle, to stand by and guide the chosen king, but it’s deeper rooted than that. She sees a lot of Somnus in him, or…more specifically how Somnus used to be in the beginning - and that’s a sort of sanctity she wants to preserve if she can. He’s a good kid, with a good heart, and if she can help stop him from making some terrible decisions, then her job will surely be done. 

| — . ♕ . — |   “Much error,” he confirmed, a twist of a smile on his lips. He remembered the slew of emotions he had felt the first time a small section of those roses had died off from his faulty care of them. Sadness, guilt, anger, there had been waves of several, all at once. When he’d finally calmed, Ardyn had managed to salvage what sprigs remained alive, and by some miracle, nursed them to health. Many buds had wilted off before blooming from that time until then, but he’d eventually learned and made the bushes prosper and thrive. The local soil likely wasn’t their preference, but it would suffice. 

The remark regarding his needed warning churned that expression from a smile into a smirk. Somehow, even with his terrible flirtations and unwitty compliments, he had still always seemed to have a way with her. Perhaps that was how he’d known they were so perfect for one another. 

Back then, at least… 

What he was now, it was not who he once was, and at least he felt assured that Aera was quite aware of that fact. Yet, she remained. Ever the wonder, she was. 

“That makes two of us, I suspect,” he whispered, still looking at her and willing himself not to become entirely lost in the sight of her. It would be so very easy… What remained of his shriveled black heart still longed for her, like a moth to flame. 

“And cease those words,” he continued, yet his voice still carried a gentle tone to it. “Silly? You? Possibly, but not in that relation. I hardly see fault in feeling as you do. If nothing else, both of us are perfectly justified to do so.” Oh, and he had. It was those years upon years of feeling too much that had warped him into what he had become, after all. 

“Perhaps you could assist me, however? If you insist on haunting my abode with your beautiful presence, might you offer me some advice to keep these blossoms content? Searches on the world-wide web can only offer so much by recommendation, and I dare not allow a hired gardener to touch them.” If he did so and said gardener allowed the roses to die off, the person in question would not be far behind them, likely to become fertilizer for the garden.      

IT’S REFRESHINGLY FAMILIAR TO SEE, that even now, the self deprecation remains. It’s only a small comment, an agreement in truth, to her own delightfully skewed condemnation of his gardening, but it warms her heart none the less to see that of all her guilty pleasures, the roses were one he had so diligently striven to preserve. Even if he had seen that her beloved blooms had come to wither and rot, she wouldn’t have minded. It was the fact he’d tried, that was the point of conviction - and perhaps in essence, it was through effort and affection alone that they had learnt to endure for so long. 

Aera stares too long at the shift in his expression, when that once debonair smile had morphed into a smirk she’d once known so well. It was the same look he’d given her when he’d teased her amidst the ruins. The same look that accompanied many a brotherly prank against his brother and had crafted itself a heartfelt home amidst her memories. It’s a lifetime ago now, world’s away, much like the remnants of palaces in yesteryear she had once made it her mission to find. It’s fitting, in truth, that she finds so much comfort in residing in the shaded relics of their past. She always had been more at home amongst fossils than anything truly alive- but maybe this time there was room for both. The future was always waiting to be rewritten, no? So why surrender to a fate neither of them had chosen? Why settle for less? 

❝Ardyn…❞ Again, it’s his name and little more that the first oracle utters, like a half whispered prayer to whichever god is still listening. She wants to say that she knows he’s not who he once was. That for all his sins, he will still always have a place deeply rooted between her ribs - but the words are stuck. Caught somewhere in the back of her throat as if daring to acknowledge them will only serve to hurt him again. She wants their old life. Wants to live and laugh and grow old with him, without the interference of the gods, or the price that must invariably be paid. But that ship has sailed, and now all that remains are moments like this. Stolen and cherished, yet somehow always hollow, lacking the precious vitality that could only reside within someone unplagued by death. 

For all of his comfort, it’s the words he speaks that soothe her - and in turn, silently she winds an arm around his middle and nestles against the sanctuary of his shoulder to still the flow of errant tears. She is too happy to let solemnity consume her again. Too lucky even, to be here with him, when everything within Bahamut’s power had seemingly been designed to keep her away. ❝Ah, so I have to earn my keep I see! ❞ Against the tide of emotion Aera smiles, willing the silent longing to bury itself for his sake, if not her own. ❝ As the resident rose tender, I think I can stretch to that! ❞ It’ll be nice to get back out into a garden and to restore a little normality, even if under the guise of bossing her former paramour around a little too agreeably. 

               The natural conclusions he has drawn take precious little thought and effort, and while she is PERFECTLY CAPABLE of connecting the dots of her own accord, what she lays before him is an opportunity to be heard, if not understood. It’s evident in the way she carries herself, cautious but strangely realistic, tone calm and even so as to avoid alarming the stray she seeks to coax near. While the parallel had often been the subject of jests within some imperial circles, it isn’t too terribly far from the truth.

               ❝Badly. How else?❞

               It is in these stories that children are DEVOURED by monsters in the woods, bodies are mutilated beyond repair, innocents burned at the stake for fabricated crimes against a humanity that is less than humane. The source material is significantly darker than their successors, edited and fed to a public that gratefully swallows the alterations as truth rather than reinterpretation. The fact of the matter remains that, regardless of time’s unending passage, people are as BLISSFULLY IGNORANT now as they were in his day. Perhaps more so.

               Ardyn smirks, not quite amused, but not disappointed, either. It is not the state of the present nor the encroaching future that troubles him, but the IMMUTABLE NATURE of a past that he cannot challenge.

DESPITE WHAT HE MAKE THINK, there is still room for education on her part. The facts haven’t changed. They are as absolute and undeniable as they ever were - yet it’s the detail in perception and opinion that Aera seeks. She could judge him as readily as any other, draw her own conclusions and decide in the here and now, that for all the heartache and suffering she had endured he wasn’t worth the fight. Maybe it’s naive, or perhaps woefully optimistic, but there’s something to be said for hearing it from the horse’s mouth. To let him tell his story and give voice to his own insight and perhaps in turn rationalise why she continued to turn to him; like a lost lamb forever enamoured and indebted to the wolf.

         ❝ Then rewrite the ending. ❞ 

If you don’t like the story, why keep telling it? Burdened with so much darkness, he ought to be the stuff of nightmares. The daemonic apparition that keeps naughty children at bay lest they be snatched away into the night. Yet for all his sins, Ardyn is not the thing Aera fears. She’d seen far worse long ago. When greed and malice and misguided judgement had become far more terrifying than any monster under the bed. People were monsters of their own creation; festering away behind false smiles with airs and graces as if the rest of the world were DAMNED, not them. You could say it’s why she’s so invested in the young prince these days. So eager and determined to see that he doesn’t buckle under the strain of expectation and tread the same ill gotten path as his predecessor. 

She knows for a fact, the man before her doesn’t agree. Even in silence, the contempt is universally known - yet Noctis is an argument for another day. Time is far too short to be spent screaming at each other when there is so much old ground left to be revisited - and to an extent, far too many wrongs left to be RIGHTED. Her lips twitch in the pause between words, something unreadable immortalised in the neutrality of an expression that follows. 

As passive and calm as the world would like you to believe the oracle is; Aera is still undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with. She was raised to be dignified and pious, to serve the gods and do her duty without complaint - but it doesn’t stop her from being frustrated or getting annoyed. It doesn’t stop her from courting passion and tenacity and circumventing the rules, even if only discreetly. There is so much more to her as a person than a meek and mild victim of circumstance. She will shout, she will swear, she will take up arms and gladly fight if it means protecting the people she loves - yet the world chooses to ignore it. They elect to underestimate and dismiss her, when in truth, 90% of the time she is more than capable of putting that trident to good use and skewering those that would doubt her. 

@makobled​

The song of achilles || -❝  name one hero who was happy — you can’t.  ❞

AH, TRUST CLOUD TO START WITH THE EASY QUESTIONS. She doubts he means to gift her with such a loaded query; at best it’s a rhetorical question - and at worst a source of the utmost frustration - yet her answer would be the same either way. Aera sees no reason to lie to him. No reason to gloss over the truth with a honeyed and rose tinted reality. ❝I think you’re confusing the point. Heroism has never been about being happy. It’s about doing what’s RIGHT.❞  There was a reason it was so often attributed to tragedy and SACRIFICE ; a reason it wasn’t an easy choice nor a path to be taken lightly. 

 ❝ Heroics are about altruism, about a vested COMPASSION in something greater than yourself. The joy that stems from it is rooted in the knowledge that you shouldered the risk and the burden so someone else didn’t have to. That they can be HAPPY and LIVE, even if you yourself cannot. ❞ It’s too much of a lecture to be comfortable, yet the oracle hadn’t intended to patronise so much as rationalise her view, and in turn, her experience. It doesn’t mean she’s completely without humour though, as the slight quirk of her lips will now almost certainly imply. 

Sometimes I like to stop and think about how Aera really drew the short straw as the oracle. She’s constantly left to question the nature of her own reality. The Astrals tell her one thing, the crystal another - and yet in that sea of visions of things that may or may not come to pass, it’s wholly overwhelming and alienating trying to discern fact from fiction. I would argue that her judgement is impaired a lot of the time, and while slowly losing one’s mind isn’t an excuse for some of what transpired, it does at least mitigate the clearly diminished capacity she had while trying to do what was right. 

Seeing Ardyn become what he ultimately became, is the catalyst that started it all. To have a barrage of waking nightmares in which he was more daemon than man, to see everything she loved about him crumble and fade in the wake of this divinely obligated duty. It scared her. So she naively tried to stop it. She tried to circumvent the will of fate and asked Somnus for help. And well, that didn’t exactly pan out did it? It wasn’t a conspiracy to bring him down, but a genuine and earnest need of a woman who loved him deeply trying to spare him the fate laid out before him. And in the end it was her interference that set the wheels in motion. Maybe if she’d left well alone, it would never have ended the way it did.

And for that reason even in death (and arguably rebirth) that concept is something that still haunts her. The doubt, the regret, the constant and gnawing weight of what if? Maybe in another life, it wouldn’t have gone so wrong. 

               ❝Fairytales,❞ he says, and while intended as a joke, a jab at this world’s structure built upon lies force-fed by the Six, there is a note of longing in the bitterness. An echo he may be, but there remains just enough of what was to maintain the RESENTMENT in his blood. ❝These people are so desperate to believe that the world is a happy place. Little wonder they keep lining up to die.❞

               Noctis falls in with the rest of them, a DISAPPOINTMENT not unlike the rest of his lineage. A time or two has the boy come close to broaching the subject of his own volition, that of a predetermined path, and yet he has always found some means with which to distract himself from the truth. Or rather, the Draconian – in all his haste to mask the strings he himself pulls – has managed to cover his tracks.

               Frankly, the old lizard is not so separate from Adagium himself in the art of deception. A BENEVOLENT GOD, indeed.

OF ALL THE RESPONSES, that was the least expected. So much so, the former oracle couldn’t help the twitch of her lips, her gaze ever scrutinising as it continued to watch the man opposite. Ardyn had always been quick ( and mercifully it seemed that had not been lost to the sands of time, )  but had he always been so wry? Aera couldn’t recall. It was just as plausible that the nuances to his new found penchant for IRONY were daemonic in origin either, - although in truth, she suspected it didn’t matter too much either way. If this was who he had become, then so be it. 

 ❝Spoken like a true cynic. ❞ Did he have a point? Yes. But did she agree? Not in the slightest. It was a surprisingly polarising source of conflict for the blonde. In some respects she couldn’t blame the masses for craving death. There was a sense of peace involved, OF FINALITY — a kind of end to the ravages of a life built in the face of something unjust. Yet it’s not what he means and she knows it. His RESENTMENT is almost certainly for the enthusiasm with which they toe the divine line; and how eagerly the devout will still bare their throats to a wolf, waiting for the inevitable tear of teeth through far too pliant flesh.  ❝…bits of it aren’t always terrible.❞

Aera’s counter is too little too late; but there is a degree of weighted knowledge in the burn of those aquatic hues. Life was SACRED; perhaps even moreso than the gods whom she had once so diligently served - yet what was life without joy? It was the benchmark against which all existence would measure. A perspective; a reason. A means to endure horror after horror, in hopes of clutching at the elusive strands of happiness that still persevered. 

               A lesser man, a mortal man, would not be CURSED with this, wired from dawn to dusk and at all hours in between by way of the things that swim within his skull. A lesser man would not be skeptical of her touch, perhaps going so far as to welcome it, draw her close and succumb to the need that has plagued him too long. Ardyn is not quite so trusting, nor is he eager. Time and again has she appeared these many years — always tangible, warm and welcoming — inevitably slipping far and away into a past he cannot reclaim.

               Imagined or not, her little insinuation is not lost on him, intrigue taking root and settling in where stark apprehension had been but moments before. She strikes him now as far less timid than he remembers, though much of their life together has been wiped away, lost to time and shadow. With all her power and insight into the wills of THE WOULD-BE DIVINE, had she always been so direct?

               Ardyn rather doubts it. 

               ❝And what, dare I ask, gives you cause to believe that I am THE LEAST BIT INTERESTED in romance?❞

WHAT SHADE OF MEMORY REMAINS, is precisely that. An echo of what was, and not in essence, what currently is. He’s right to think her different; there’s no denying that Aera has changed in the long years of her absence. Whether it’s due to time alone, or the very nature of death and rebirth is a subject open to debate, but there is a sense of maturity in the way she greets him. Something familiar, but simultaneously foreign - and neither as sedate nor restrained as she may have been in youth. 

You could say she’s BOLDER, more driven to skirting the territory of questionable inclination, but that too isn’t strictly true. It’s more of an attempt at speaking his language, at finding a commonality so starkly juxtaposed to what she’d previously known. If Ardyn is indeed no longer the soft hearted and compassionate man she had once pledged life and love to, perhaps there’s something to be said for appealing to the daemonic. Or at the very least, the less linear and clean cut approach of failed RECONCILIATION. 

 ❝I don’t. ❞ The reply needs no hesitation, or indeed evasive thought. She’s quicker now than she ever used to be, or at least more brazen in what she says aloud, compared to the closely guarded dignity of divine restraint.  ❝ But it seems more than CONTRADICTORY enough to confuse the masses and amuse you. Nobody ever suspects the quiet romantic.  ❞ Once again those eyes flicker across the top of the page, peering over the book with such a lazy degree of inquisition it bordered on something else entirely. 

@somnus-lucis-caelum​

“You need to help me with your Oracle-wisdom, Aera.... I seem to have forgotten something important today. But I can‘t possibly remember... well, in that case, was it important at all?“ Rude worse, maybe. But the grin he was hiding was obvious. Along with the little satchel he placed in front of Aera, containing a new accessory chain, similar to the one adorning her forehead - only in silver colours this time.

FOR ALL OF TEN SECONDS, he has her fooled. That usual pristine mask of calm so tinged with the utmost concern for her dear friend. What catastrophe had transpired now? What pressing matter had he seemingly forgotten, only to —- Oh. The penny drops just as suddenly, that telltale smile chasing away all of her worries as swiftly as they had arisen. He was merely teasing; a cruel joke she might add, but it was still comforting to know that for one day at least there was no sudden disaster to be averted. 

 ❝First of all — ❞ The blonde started with an exasperated smile, a gloved hand swatting at his arm with surprising force for someone so petite.  ❝— don’t scare me like that! I thought you meant something serious!❞ Yet it’s an expression that almost immediately softens afterwards, the warm little curve etched into the apples of her cheeks as she accepted the gift with the utmost grace.  ❝But thank you. I really do mean that from the bottom of this divinely blessed heart.❞ It may be preemptive to thank him without checking what it is, but the sentiment alone had touched her, a bond forged over so many years and immortalised in tiny little acts of cherished kindness, just like this one.