[He makes a sound, quiet, under his breath; amusement, perhaps, or acceptance. He can feel her stiffen next to him, but is unsure how to solve such a matter; he has hardly been a warm gust of wind himself, and even less now, on this world.] I can be patient.
[He could wait forever, if only there was the smallest thread of hope.
Slowly, tentatively, Dion places a hand on her arm. It is not much, considering the warmth of others -- Dion especially remembers Joshua's warm, tight embrace -- but he only wishes to provide anything for this woman, who deserves more, after she offered him so much.]
I should hope you find comfort beyond it. [Not because this Metia, here, is only a figment of magic, but... because more is needed. He knows well himself.] Have you more wishes for the future? We shall make them together. To strengthen them.
( Dion, with his upbringing and formal nature, is almost a comfort -- though she cannot put a name to why. Perhaps it is the fact that he understands the weight of words, accepts how little Jill finds herself saying and what more she means. It may make her wish for him -- to relax, to find his place in this world, to discover himself again -- more difficult. Yet she hopes that he will have all the time allowed for it.
But he asks for her wishes, and she can't help but smile at him. )
A few, yes. Would you prefer to keep our wishes to ourselves?
[Metia seems to wink in and out of existence as a cloud drifts in front of it, but its red light returns soon enough, shining just as brightly. That she asks the question at all means she has considered he will say little, and she is not wrong for thinking so. His first instinct is to agree. There is no need to say them out loud; it will give them no further power.
But as he stands here under Valisthea's sky, worlds upon worlds away from it, with no way to return -- and no way to ensure he would still live even if he did -- he wants to offer... something of himself.
Something unexpected. This is a second chance at a life he did not earn. If he remained the same man, having learned nothing, would it not be a waste?
He inhales, holding it, then quietly exhales. The flowers shift in the breeze, moving like the sea's waves.]
I left someone behind. [The words are unguarded, and his voice goes soft. Hardly above a whisper, as even saying them makes his throat tighten.] Someone very important to me. Once I had decided to go to Origin. [He stops here now, not so much seeking the right words as deciding which ones he will not say. I knew I would not return, he thinks. I was allowed my goodbye. It is not for his sake, but for hers, that he is silent on these thoughts, for surely she thought the same of Clive and Joshua. That any of them should return after facing a god was nothing less than impossibility.
Dion swallows, and takes another slow inhale, then exhale.] It is selfish to want him here, and I do not wish to condemn him to an unfamiliar world. I wish... [He does wish to see him, but that is even not the highest wish. What is more important to him, even if he should never seen Terence again:] I wish that he yet lives, and he lives well, for the rest of his days.
[This swallow is the heaviest of all, and it is only mere illusion that Metia's light seems to reflect on the moisture in his eyes, quickly blinked away.]
( That he speaks it aloud is something, and Jill lets him have his silence and space -- staring up at the moon and Metia as he speaks. Dion, for all his princely charm and composed exterior, is as much of a human with wants and desires, struggling with loss and his place in the world, as she and Clive.
For that she feels a kinship with him. It is hard to know your place in the world when you feel as if you have fallen short of an ideal. Of knowing your choices have ended in death. Not yours, no matter how much you wished for it, but other's. That guilt... it does not go away, not fully. But Jill has made as much peace with it as she can. Both in her heart, and at the tip of her sword.
Her domain is still, save for the sound of flowers and grass in the wind, the glow of the moon and the stars cool -- yet in its own way, accepting of whatever they wish to offer it. She's always enjoyed the night for its safety, the secrets she's offered it.
And she hopes Dion, too, can find some solace in it. )
Would you take umbrage if I offered the same wish to Metia? I'll confess that much of my own wishes have come true, or are beyond the power of it to grant.
( No matter how much Clive swears to return to her, she knows-- she knows that she will wait forever until he comes back, and even after. )
[He is as tight as a pulled bowstring, waiting for her... her answer, her reaction. He does not know if she will even mull over his words at all. He attempts to tell his heart it matters not; it is the act of having mentioned Terence at all that truly matters.
That he has settled on this wish in particular.
Dion shakes his head immediately.] No, not at all. [Was that not the point of sharing it?
He would do this for Terence. Truthfully, there was nothing he would not have done for him... except stop being Bahamut. Except stay, when he asked, when Dion knew he must go to Origin. For his father. (For himself.)] His name is Terence. [He offers a hand, if she wishes to clasp it as they make the wish.] I think... he would have thought highly of you. In some ways, you are alike. I cannot speak for Clive, but Terence was sometimes the only one who kept me... [Sane. He hesitates.] Who helped me do what needed to be done. I can imagine Clive thinks of you the same way. [He looks down from Metia to her.] He was my true strength. As I think you are, for Clive.
[This, he does not doubt. Not when he has seen them together. He has seen the light in Clive's eyes when he looks at her, as if life returns to his body at her mere presence.
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[He could wait forever, if only there was the smallest thread of hope.
Slowly, tentatively, Dion places a hand on her arm. It is not much, considering the warmth of others -- Dion especially remembers Joshua's warm, tight embrace -- but he only wishes to provide anything for this woman, who deserves more, after she offered him so much.]
I should hope you find comfort beyond it. [Not because this Metia, here, is only a figment of magic, but... because more is needed. He knows well himself.] Have you more wishes for the future? We shall make them together. To strengthen them.
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But he asks for her wishes, and she can't help but smile at him. )
A few, yes. Would you prefer to keep our wishes to ourselves?
( To give him the privacy of his own mind. )
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But as he stands here under Valisthea's sky, worlds upon worlds away from it, with no way to return -- and no way to ensure he would still live even if he did -- he wants to offer... something of himself.
Something unexpected. This is a second chance at a life he did not earn. If he remained the same man, having learned nothing, would it not be a waste?
He inhales, holding it, then quietly exhales. The flowers shift in the breeze, moving like the sea's waves.]
I left someone behind. [The words are unguarded, and his voice goes soft. Hardly above a whisper, as even saying them makes his throat tighten.] Someone very important to me. Once I had decided to go to Origin. [He stops here now, not so much seeking the right words as deciding which ones he will not say. I knew I would not return, he thinks. I was allowed my goodbye. It is not for his sake, but for hers, that he is silent on these thoughts, for surely she thought the same of Clive and Joshua. That any of them should return after facing a god was nothing less than impossibility.
Dion swallows, and takes another slow inhale, then exhale.] It is selfish to want him here, and I do not wish to condemn him to an unfamiliar world. I wish... [He does wish to see him, but that is even not the highest wish. What is more important to him, even if he should never seen Terence again:] I wish that he yet lives, and he lives well, for the rest of his days.
[This swallow is the heaviest of all, and it is only mere illusion that Metia's light seems to reflect on the moisture in his eyes, quickly blinked away.]
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For that she feels a kinship with him. It is hard to know your place in the world when you feel as if you have fallen short of an ideal. Of knowing your choices have ended in death. Not yours, no matter how much you wished for it, but other's. That guilt... it does not go away, not fully. But Jill has made as much peace with it as she can. Both in her heart, and at the tip of her sword.
Her domain is still, save for the sound of flowers and grass in the wind, the glow of the moon and the stars cool -- yet in its own way, accepting of whatever they wish to offer it. She's always enjoyed the night for its safety, the secrets she's offered it.
And she hopes Dion, too, can find some solace in it. )
Would you take umbrage if I offered the same wish to Metia? I'll confess that much of my own wishes have come true, or are beyond the power of it to grant.
( No matter how much Clive swears to return to her, she knows-- she knows that she will wait forever until he comes back, and even after. )
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That he has settled on this wish in particular.
Dion shakes his head immediately.] No, not at all. [Was that not the point of sharing it?
He would do this for Terence. Truthfully, there was nothing he would not have done for him... except stop being Bahamut. Except stay, when he asked, when Dion knew he must go to Origin. For his father. (For himself.)] His name is Terence. [He offers a hand, if she wishes to clasp it as they make the wish.] I think... he would have thought highly of you. In some ways, you are alike. I cannot speak for Clive, but Terence was sometimes the only one who kept me... [Sane. He hesitates.] Who helped me do what needed to be done. I can imagine Clive thinks of you the same way. [He looks down from Metia to her.] He was my true strength. As I think you are, for Clive.
[This, he does not doubt. Not when he has seen them together. He has seen the light in Clive's eyes when he looks at her, as if life returns to his body at her mere presence.
He knows well that feeling.]