of no importance.

He's too far gone. Every day, it becomes more and more difficult to keep himself, and to wrangle the beast that is now Ike. He knows one day he won't exist, and his grip on himself is too loose to do anything about that. He's scared, but he can't show it.

He especially won't show this man.

"You know." The word is spat at him. The ice around Ike begins to break. "My family."

The thin thread of himself tries to hold the beast back. Realistically, if this man knows the Greil Mercenaries, surely he's an ally. Surely he's one of them. That doesn't calm Ike down.

cw: mild gore

"You're my responsibility." The sky knight says, bluntly. "So long as you're under my watch, I will see through your reformation with aplomb. The church entrusted me with that much. Therefore, I have no intention on handing you off to someone else, nor do I harbor any desire for dishonesty."

Tsubaki's tone carries an odd flatness to it; as if that much should be obvious. How silly that his partner had thought otherwise. There was no task impossible enough for Tsubaki to humor the idea of quitting.

"Which of the three do you think~?" Tsubaki echoes back, "You've spoken so much on my behalf already, so how about you answer this for me, too? Don't stop now-- Maybe if you dissect enough of me, you'll acquire second-hand knowledge what it means to be a perfect role-model~? Haha."

The more he pries, the more it seems that their hands are truly unable to separate. There is no amount of digging or scratching that will work, but he cannot give up so easily now — so he keeps trying regardless, glove wriggling its way into a crevice that will not expand.

When the mask comes off, when Zacharias finally peeks from behind it, such frown is wiped away and Darios gladly keeps gleaming violet gaze with his own. "Let's continue caring for each other," he says softly. He lingers in Zacharias' hold for a moment before sitting down at the edge of his bed.

Zacharias sets his mask aside on a nearby desk, shaking his head. "Such menial tasks can always wait." There are many of him out there — but there is only one Darios, who is glad to have him around. Such grace is not to be taken for granted, so he takes his spot next to Darios, hands reaching to latch on around his waist in an embrace.

"Let me just stay here." Then, he echoes, "Let us always continue caring for each other."

His hands trail upwards, sliding under the gap that Darios had created between mask and skin. Off the mask goes, and Zacharias' eyes gleam with warm admiration at his sole prince. There is no need for Darios' gaze to falter in such a manner; he will ensure that his own uncertainty becomes certain.

"I'm reminded of when we first met. When you were so impassioned that you'd have moved me out of the way yourself had you lacked the manners to wait." It is a memory he holds fondly now even as the look in Bruno's eyes, the manner of Bruno's words, told of a man who was too focused upon a single thing. "I don't want you to lose yourself in it," all the more with matters pertaining to home.

The sigh he lets out is concerned and silver eyes are filled with guilt. All this time he's been doing so? "So long as you've not been alone. You've been eating well between and taking proper breaks correct? If every time it requires you to say such an incantation, you should keep hydrated as well."

He holds Darios' wrists in his own hands, cradling them gently. Why was he expecting the worst — to be greeted with judgement and nails that pried for answers he wanted held close to his chest? Instead, he is greeted by understanding and care, and guilt that should not be present in such kind eyes.

For all the times Darios has cherished Zacharias' heart, it is still always a shock when it should no longer be. He has never had reason to be concerned, has he? "I have been eating and hydrating well," he manages, creaking the reassurance out. A tilt of his head, and a small kiss is pressed to one of Darios' palms.

"...I suppose it's less troublesome this way. It's difficult to think about things you know nothing about, yet we do now. I will take charge in looking into it." For quite obvious reasons.

A blush brushes across his cheeks. "If you say such things with your mask still on, this professor might get the wrong idea, Professor Bruno." It is a light jest. Masked or unmasked, Bruno or Zacharias, the words still pierce all the same.

( he thinks about removing his mask, so he is no longer professor in gentle company, )

—and then, at Darios' final question, suddenly uncertain. His smile holds — he plasters it as such — even if it wavers and droops, subtle. "I cannot say how these orbs have arrived as such. Perhaps it is due to random chance, but..."

The hug falters, Darios steps back and takes Bruno's hands, kneeling as he does. He is not fond of it, so his heritage is not so rosy. Of everything Bruno has told him - of everything Zacharias has said - never has he heard either voice falter so much. "It does," he says pressing a kiss to the backs of Bruno's hands.

"I certainly don't understand the extent of it. The far past of Aytolis is reminiscent of, they hold the shield that sealed the chaos dragon - the one who opened portals - where Gristonne held strong to the sword of that dragon. It is far from the same." Yet he imagines how the ones responsible must've felt.

Selfishly, he once wanted to go there, to where Bruno's home was wherever it might've been. "You are Zacharias. All that matters to me is that you are yourself." No matter what dangers may come - it's worth the risk.

"No. There is no need for you to forget, nor is there a need for you to apologize." He sets his jaw. "That, too, is part of who I am."

And even if there has yet to be an understanding of how this opening and closing works, how the dragons of Gristonne and Aytolis dictate what Embla and Askr can do — Bruno tilts his head off to the side.

Does he overestimate? Bruno does not believe so. The grace Darios has shown — and continues to show — him is more than he could ever expect. Even if this question is heavy in the way it strikes and catches his breath, he could not fault Darios for it. "I do. I can close these worlds off. I am... not fond of it, but it—"

And the words that follow snag; and suddenly, his chest constricts. But Darios asks, and Darios cannot continue pushing through his own insecurities for Bruno's questions without Bruno doing the same in return. "I, ah—" it catches again, so his shoulders crumple with another try, "There are... two main kingdoms within the continent of Zenith: Askr and Embla. Askran royals are capable of opening worlds, whereas Emblian ones... close them."

Is Darios glad about that or perhaps saddened. Giving voice to the way it makes him feel is difficult, yet it is for Bruno so he must at least try. Timid hands are taken into his own and, mask be damned, he pulls Bruno into a tight hug. "It doesn't scare me so much as... I wonder if there has been a shadow I've been living in or perhaps you knew some version of myself who holds as much grace as you give me credit for. That must mean... am I the only one? Lianna and Rowan... are they too?"

It is the truth; even if this truth is not clear, instead one that is only muddied and convoluted. "Or, you could be the only one. Or, there could also be another version of you in a different world — but rest assured that I, at least, have not met another Darios.

"...you've kept it on?" Thus it must be difficult. He wonders if violet eyes will give away too much when already he knows that they will. "It's... not an easy matter to speak on, but the more we hesitate and hide the more difficult it will be in the future."

"Thus... I'll ask you directly." Nerves have him pulling his gloves off and setting his crown to the side. "Have you ever met me? Not me," – as based on reactions there is some distinction – ",but this face and this person?"

At least the first question is easier than what else Darios could have asked in its place. He finds it within him to set his gloves aside in conjunction, to hold out an unsteady hand for Darios to take. "No," he answers. "I have not."

The moment lingers and though air itself conveys no sound, the sentiment carried between glances is grave. He's not quite sure it should receive voice even if it must.

When the silence is broken, so too is the tension in his chest. He shakes his head. "Ah, yes just. Give me a moment.... if you would, simply wait in my room and I'll join you once I have." Because Bruno already does far too much. Zacharias is an aide he's hardly worthy of. To ask for more... especially when he makes such a face, he cannot be so cruel.

Inside, he does not think he is capable of holding still; without the threat of other eyes watching, of other ears listening, thoughts of his mirror claw away until his throat is scratched raw. Just because Darios doesn't see anything reflected back toward him — he knows; he will insist — does not mean it is bad.

It is good, for the universe to spare Darios from such a possibility. His hand hovers over his mask, and then falls; it can stay on. Fate has been kind yet again for his love, as is deserved, even if Darios has yet to see it himself.

There is no interruption. Silver eyes watch as the orb seemingly fades and his stomach sinks further still.

"Zacharias..." From all that has just been told, been seen, what is he meant to make of it? For Bruno... it was quick, he needn't even touch the orb for that form to appear. Suddenly the hall feels incorrect to be within. "The heroes of your world come from such things?"

But Bruno is fast to correct: "All heroes of my world come from such things, but it is not always a hero that comes out of the orb." Because for him to consider himself a hero — how laughable, he thinks. He stands far from such lofty titles. "Sometimes villains; sometimes dragons and gods that seek destruction in a world that is not theirs. It is always a gamble."

A pause as he turns back toward Darios, and at the sight, he lets go of his own hold behind his back. Something brews behind sunken eyes, more potent than what he had ever seen. He thinks, briefly, of reaching for the other's hands — but out here, in the clearing of grass? His own hands curl inwards instead, tense. It is only you in the worlds, and he knows that is for the better, no matter what Darios may think.

Just, just... how is he to convey as such?

"That's a possibility?" He would ask who it is Bruno has met, who it is he has not. What lands is he familiar with? What customs has he himself participated in?

It all turns to sand on his tongue. His eyes fall back to the orb and a nervous bead of sweat rolls along his back. "When you get close or touch the orb... what does it look like?"

As if to invite a demonstration, Darios steps back from the orb that's gained its iridescence back. A shift in personalities too? A small chuckles leaves him. Surely he must be joking. Even if Darios knows he is not. Even if he knows first hand that such things can occur, that such tears in time can pull the same face from different points...

No. He could not allow the other to be whisked to this world yet again. But Bruno's eyes dart over at Darios, sensing the despair rolling off of tensed shoulders — and suddenly, his own mouth goes dry as he stares back. "It... is," he manages, croaking out the words. "This, I am confident in, as I have met myself."

He takes his step up to the orb — as if taking on the mantle, forcing through his hesitance to show proof of his own word: that he has met himself. Sure enough, his own face appears in the orb, white suit and coattails trailing behind his figure, and Bruno cannot suppress the nausea that quickly follows.

Now, to demonstrate that he means it when he believes that one is better than too many: bile coats his tongue once more as pressure crushes his skull. Darios must find out about this eventually, but isn't it too soon? when will it ever be the right time?. Under his breath, he starts the incantation—

It was like, totally dirty here because of all the horses and shit. He didn't want to dirty his perfect white robes anyway. He was so pretty and perfect after all!

"Oh lil ol' me?" Izana laughs, covering his mouth with a sleeve over his hand, "I'm just here to watch the drama! If I wanted to gamble, that wouldn't exactly wouldn't be fair would it?"

He flips his hair casually, looking rather proud of himself.

No, such a man would not lead him to the main gambling ring. Merely an observer, and not a noble organizing the betting — so Bruno frowns, disappointment evident through the sharp downturn of his lips, although he is uncertain if it is because of his mission now falling flat or the fact that he is speaking to someone with the blood of a dragon.

Perhaps both, frankly. "I see." His voice is flat, arms crossing in front of his chest. If anything, if this visit becomes a waste — he might as well see how far this man's predictive powers take him. "This divine dragon you speak of... does it only grant you a vision of the future, at your command?"

The clearing of his throat, the shift in his demeanor – Bruno's next words have grey eyes alight with curiosity. If he's so accustomed to such a place, to people coming from unknown lands – Darios recalls their time in Elyos, the vault and the familiar faces carved into statues that towered above him. They may not be some such altar where Bruno hails, but to know it acted as such a place. A man with a breadth of knowledge far exceeding his own is placed a step further.

A timid smile crosses his lips and this time he turns completely to Bruno. "Of course you would say such a thing. I'm quite jealous. I wondered what it would be like if the heroes we hosted in Gristonne and Aytolis were to stay with us. The accommodations and all manner of way we'd have to adjust to people from entirely different histories to our own." The question of how the people of Zenith did it sits along his tongue.

But as does another. This one holding a far more anxiety inducing notion behind it.

His mouth closes. Lips pull into a thin line. No, not a simple question anymore; Darios probes for an answer that cannot be given here. Hesitant, he wrings his hands behind his back and nods. "Some. But I am not very... familiar with them." These bodies, after all, were merely tools. "But who appears in Zenith and through the orb is dependent on random chance. Some faces are more common than others, simply due to the prevalence of their worlds."

...That is all fluff. Hollow words to avoid the truth: that he has not met Darios, nor has he ever heard of Gristonne or Aytolis prior to his arrival here. But perhaps that is for the better — but how could he convey such a thought without the question of why quickly following behind?