Ardbert keeps humming softly, letting her take the time to settle. There's no need to rush her. Era's come to him for comfort; he knows she'll tell him why when she can find her words.
Her head hurts in the way that only a good cry ever seems to manage, leaving her feeling even more exhausted than she had earlier. She rubs her face into his shirt and takes a deep, sniffly inhale of his scent before angling her head so she can rest her cheekbone against his chest.
Eventually Era speaks quietly, voice raspy from her exertions.
She's cried herself out and takes comfort in his smell. Ardbert smiles a little. It'll be a long time before he can take things for granted, such as having a smell.
"Why?" Ardbert asks seriously. "What makes you think that?"
It takes her some time to figure out how to explain it. Fortunately she's speaking to Ardbert, and he will understand even if she struggles to find the words.
"At our wedding Pyra asked if Noct telling her they were family made us sisters." He knows full well what Era's answer would have been. "It made Pyra sad, and now Noct is sad because he wants his family to be whole."
She sniffs, tears welling up again. "He said it's okay to not trust her, but wants me to be patient and understanding with her." Again, Ardbert is well aware that Era has been, to the best of her ability. "I don't know why everyone likes her so much yet I can't seem to. I tried! But I just— I don't trust her, Ardbert."
Ardbert listens, brow furrowed, and quietly contemplates what he's just heard in his usual way. He massages around some of the scales on Era's upper back through her clothing, knowing where they all are by now. Eventually, all he can do is sigh.
"You're not the only one. She's so focused on others in a simple way that it's like she doesn't even exist. Pyra acts too nice and too selfless—" Ardbert smiles down at her weakly. "—and that's coming from a man who who gave his life, then soul, to save his world. But at least I made my thoughts, feelings, and opinions known!"
"It's like she hears your words but doesn't listen to them, or learn from them." Era sighs deeply, exhausted in far too many ways. Ardbert's touch is a welcome reassurance, helping to drain away some of her tension. "I don't understand how one can have so much to learn and yet remain so ignorant after a year. Noct says she's improved a lot, but that means little to me if he's the only one to see it!"
Her tail flicks irritably. "If she were in Eorzea she would have been enslaved or killed within a moon. There is no excuse for such childish naivety in what is supposed to be an adult. She is invasive, and offers nothing but a deaf ear and vapid words."
It frustrates her to no end.
"You are true and honest and real. You don't feel so... manufactured."
He knows if he provides sensation, then she will not need to provide it herself by picking at her scales as much. It helps sooth him as well.
Ardbert frowns. "Less than a moon—within bells in any major city. A grown woman who remains purposefully naive and only speaks or interact at others rather than make a true effort? An easy mark, unable to detect the slightest deception. Seven hells, I don't want to start caring for her for that alone. If we were anywhere but here... it'd only be a matter of time."
Whatever tension has fled from her comes back tenfold as the truth of his words sinks in. Era suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the scar on the palm of her hand where it presses against Ardbert's skin. She presses her face against his chest and lets out a quiet curse as she begins to shiver uncontrollably.
What Ardbert said had caught her off guard. It was something she had never considered before, and now that she has she can't stop thinking of when she was in that position. She can remember it so clearly. She can hear it. Smell it. Taste it. She tries to ground herself to reality by focusing on her husband, but it is like he is worlds away.
'Pretty little thing,' she remembers. A voice that felt like oil down her neck as she was yanked out of slumber by rough hands. She had thought she was safe in the corner she found, but there was no hiding from the cruelty of men—
°°°
She is terrified but tries to fight all the same, silent (no one will come if she screams. no one will care) and fierce.
But the man is twice her size and not at all phased by her struggles. He grabs her by the hair. There is pain in her neck and her scalp burns as he yanks her forward, causing her to stumble. Her toes barely touch the ground, even as she stretches her legs to try and gain solid footing.
Era doesn't like hurting people, but she also has no desire to become a slave. She has a duty to the Mothercrystal, even if she doesn't yet know how to fulfill it.
There is a knife at her throat and a deep voice telling her to stop fighting. He sounds amused, as though she is naught more than a kitten caught by the scruff, and it angers her. She feels it burn through her. A cold fire beneath her skin.
He does not know how truly different she is, and she uses this to her advantage. She also knows he doesn't wish to kill her, because what worth would she have to him then? The scales of her throat protect her as she pushes her head forward, startling the man into pulling back. His grip on her loosens enough that she can touch the ground again. Emboldened, she lunges forward and grabs the knife from him blade-first. The metal cuts deep, slicking her palm with blood, but she is far too focused on sparing herself a worse fate.
The knife is now hers and she stabs the man assaulting her before he can reach out with those hands again. She stabs and stabs until he hunches over and backs away, then she slits his throat. A sickly gurgle rises up, blood bubbling from the line she carved in his neck. She watches the life drain from his eyes. She feels both relieved and sick.
He realizes immediately that his words have struck beyond their conversation and tightens arms around her as she seeks to sink into him for comfort. "Era—"
Just as his concern spikes, he feels the telltale headache that precedes the Echo, and he can only moan out an incoherent warning before it sweeps him away.
Ardbert is Era. She is small. The man holding her hair isn't. Era's past becomes Ardbert's present.
He can't even recognize the memory as the one she spoke of in his first hours of his second life until he's suddenly and entirely himself again. Ardbert takes a greedy gasp of air, eyes flashing open wide and staring at the ceiling. One arm stays tightly around Era as he brings the other up above him and watches it tremble. He can almost still feel the blade slicing into his palm and the wetness of his own blood....
She is too preoccupied with trying to regain control of herself, forcing herself to the present, to have noticed Ardbert's current state. By the time he lifts his hand she has curled herself up even more securely, and a throw pulled haphazardly over her shoulders in what had been a failed attempt to cover her head. Her breathing is panicked, coming in rapid little bursts where she has moved to hide her face in the crook of Ardbert's neck.
Era's wormed up closer to his head, her breath against his neck forming a steady sensation that he can focus on. It shouldn't be as quick or as strong as it is, and that shouldn't help as much as it does. But Ardbert uses being needed to find the strength to focus on his wife.
He wraps her in his arms again, blanket and all, and kisses her hair. They're both trembling, her panic far worse than his. Era's had more time to wind herself up, not to mention the memory being hers.
Ardbert knew the story; experiencing it was a far more terrifying matter. It only makes him understand all the stronger why she reacted so badly to his drunken-to-appear-harmless exploits. Gods, he had been such a fool.
Neither of them know of the power that lies within Pyra, so they can only picture her helpless. In Eorzea, and even in parts of the First, to be like Pyra without any power would be to invite your own death. Ardbert feels terrified and sick to his stomach in equal measure.
His arms are warm and comforting. They make her feel safe and she nearly cries with relief. Her breath catches, but resumes its rapid pacing, though with Ardbert dragging her back to reality she is able to focus on his breathing and try to match it with her own.
He hears and feels her breath shift, realizing her attempts to match his own. Ardbert quickens his to make it easier initially, then slows it down, breath by breath, giving her a path forward. There's no words, only the sounds of their breathing.
It takes a few long minutes, but eventually her breathing settles. By the time she has regained control she feels utterly exhausted, to such an extent she doesn't bother to keep her eyes open, and she just allows the entirety of her weight to settle against him like a ragdoll.
He's used to being a cushion, and part of him is always delighted someone so strong and deadly can use him as a bed without even making breathing difficult for him. But now isn't the time for those thoughts, and they only occur to him at the edges of his mind as a sort of soothing remembrance.
Ardbert sighs at the apology. "... You needn't apologize. I think we're even now. And even if we weren't...."
She rubs her face lazily into the crook of his neck. A residual shudder runs through her and her tail blindly seeks out one of Ardbert's arms, curling loosely over it.
"Aye." Ardbert figures that making her piece things together will be a needed distraction in of itself. "Gods... we've both been through our own special kinds of hells, haven't we?"
It's said seriously, not a lick of self-deprecating humor behind it.
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Eventually Era speaks quietly, voice raspy from her exertions.
"I'm a bad sister."
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"Why?" Ardbert asks seriously. "What makes you think that?"
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"At our wedding Pyra asked if Noct telling her they were family made us sisters." He knows full well what Era's answer would have been. "It made Pyra sad, and now Noct is sad because he wants his family to be whole."
She sniffs, tears welling up again. "He said it's okay to not trust her, but wants me to be patient and understanding with her." Again, Ardbert is well aware that Era has been, to the best of her ability. "I don't know why everyone likes her so much yet I can't seem to. I tried! But I just— I don't trust her, Ardbert."
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"You're not the only one. She's so focused on others in a simple way that it's like she doesn't even exist. Pyra acts too nice and too selfless—" Ardbert smiles down at her weakly. "—and that's coming from a man who who gave his life, then soul, to save his world. But at least I made my thoughts, feelings, and opinions known!"
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Her tail flicks irritably. "If she were in Eorzea she would have been enslaved or killed within a moon. There is no excuse for such childish naivety in what is supposed to be an adult. She is invasive, and offers nothing but a deaf ear and vapid words."
It frustrates her to no end.
"You are true and honest and real. You don't feel so... manufactured."
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Ardbert frowns. "Less than a moon—within bells in any major city. A grown woman who remains purposefully naive and only speaks or interact at others rather than make a true effort? An easy mark, unable to detect the slightest deception. Seven hells, I don't want to start caring for her for that alone. If we were anywhere but here... it'd only be a matter of time."
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What Ardbert said had caught her off guard. It was something she had never considered before, and now that she has she can't stop thinking of when she was in that position. She can remember it so clearly. She can hear it. Smell it. Taste it. She tries to ground herself to reality by focusing on her husband, but it is like he is worlds away.
'Pretty little thing,' she remembers. A voice that felt like oil down her neck as she was yanked out of slumber by rough hands. She had thought she was safe in the corner she found, but there was no hiding from the cruelty of men—
°°°
She is terrified but tries to fight all the same, silent (no one will come if she screams. no one will care) and fierce.
But the man is twice her size and not at all phased by her struggles. He grabs her by the hair. There is pain in her neck and her scalp burns as he yanks her forward, causing her to stumble. Her toes barely touch the ground, even as she stretches her legs to try and gain solid footing.
Era doesn't like hurting people, but she also has no desire to become a slave. She has a duty to the Mothercrystal, even if she doesn't yet know how to fulfill it.
There is a knife at her throat and a deep voice telling her to stop fighting. He sounds amused, as though she is naught more than a kitten caught by the scruff, and it angers her. She feels it burn through her. A cold fire beneath her skin.
He does not know how truly different she is, and she uses this to her advantage. She also knows he doesn't wish to kill her, because what worth would she have to him then? The scales of her throat protect her as she pushes her head forward, startling the man into pulling back. His grip on her loosens enough that she can touch the ground again. Emboldened, she lunges forward and grabs the knife from him blade-first. The metal cuts deep, slicking her palm with blood, but she is far too focused on sparing herself a worse fate.
The knife is now hers and she stabs the man assaulting her before he can reach out with those hands again. She stabs and stabs until he hunches over and backs away, then she slits his throat. A sickly gurgle rises up, blood bubbling from the line she carved in his neck. She watches the life drain from his eyes. She feels both relieved and sick.
It's Pearl Lane — no one will care.
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Just as his concern spikes, he feels the telltale headache that precedes the Echo, and he can only moan out an incoherent warning before it sweeps him away.
Ardbert is Era. She is small. The man holding her hair isn't. Era's past becomes Ardbert's present.
He can't even recognize the memory as the one she spoke of in his first hours of his second life until he's suddenly and entirely himself again. Ardbert takes a greedy gasp of air, eyes flashing open wide and staring at the ceiling. One arm stays tightly around Era as he brings the other up above him and watches it tremble. He can almost still feel the blade slicing into his palm and the wetness of his own blood....
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He wraps her in his arms again, blanket and all, and kisses her hair. They're both trembling, her panic far worse than his. Era's had more time to wind herself up, not to mention the memory being hers.
Ardbert knew the story; experiencing it was a far more terrifying matter. It only makes him understand all the stronger why she reacted so badly to his drunken-to-appear-harmless exploits. Gods, he had been such a fool.
Neither of them know of the power that lies within Pyra, so they can only picture her helpless. In Eorzea, and even in parts of the First, to be like Pyra without any power would be to invite your own death. Ardbert feels terrified and sick to his stomach in equal measure.
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"Sorry."
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Ardbert sighs at the apology. "... You needn't apologize. I think we're even now. And even if we weren't...."
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"...'Even'?"
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He shared what happened, but she still saw it later.
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Tentatively, Era asks: "...The Echo?"
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It's said seriously, not a lick of self-deprecating humor behind it.
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Or on top of him or under him.
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"...Like parenthood?"
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Soon NSFW
#soon
But they have to be sappy, first!
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nsfw achieved
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