fleuredelys

[fleuredelys]

Solatorobo: Red the Hunter - Drop of Light

[fleuredelys]

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂  𝐑𝐏  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  .  .  .  (  pt  2.  the  sound  of  your  name  )   Set  the  stage  for  whispered  confessions,  stolen  glances,  and  the  way�� a  name  can  linger  on  someone’s  lips  like  a  secret.     ✧  ˚₊  Themes:  yearning,  tension  &  the  weight  of  unspoken  words

✧     ›     𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓    &     𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

My  muse  murmurs  your  muse’s  name  in  their  sleep,  unaware  they’re  listening.

My  muse  hesitates  before  saying  your  muse’s  name,  like  they’re  afraid  of  what  it  means.

My  muse  asks  your  muse  to  say  their  name  again,  just  to  hear  how  it  sounds.

My  muse  lets  your  muse’s  name  slip  out  in  a  moment  of  exhaustion,  vulnerability,  or  drunken  honesty.

✧      ›      𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆    &     𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

My  muse  leans  in,  their  breath  warm  against  your  muse’s  ear  as  they  say  their  name—slowly.

My  muse  says  your  muse’s  name  like  a  warning,  but  there’s  something  softer  beneath  it.

My  muse  lingers  on�� your  muse’s  name,  their  voice  catching  before  they  can  say  anything  else.

My  muse  clenches  their  jaw  when  someone  else  says  your  muse’s  name—too  fondly.

My  muse  dares  your  muse  to  say  their  name  the  way  they  really  mean  it.

✧      ›      𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓    &    𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓

My  muse  spits  your  muse’s  name  like  it  hurts  to  say.

My  muse  almost  says  your  muse’s  name—before  stopping  themselves.

My  muse  chokes  on  your  muse’s  name  in  an  argument,  suddenly  unable  to  be  angry.

My  muse  whispers  your  muse’s  name  in  a  dark,  empty  room,  knowing  they  won’t  answer.

My  muse  says  your  muse’s  name  with  finality,  like  a  goodbye  they  never  wanted  to  say.

My  muse  grips  your  muse’s  face,  desperate.  “Say  my  name.  Just  once.”

✧      ›      𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒      &      𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆

My  muse  drags  out  your  muse’s  name,  like  they’re  savoring  it.

My  muse  laughs  when  your  muse  says  their  name—because  they  weren’t  expecting  it  to  sound  so  sweet.

My  muse  smirks  as  they  whisper  your  muse’s  name,  testing  their  reaction.

My  muse  playfully  refuses  to  call  your  muse  by  their  name,  just  to  see  them  pout.

My  muse  presses  their  lips  to  your  muse’s  ear  and  murmurs,  “Say  my  name  first.”

[fleuredelys]

That will be it as far as IC activity goes from me on this weekend! Starting from tomorrow, I want to experiment a little and see if I can survive throughout the day without the 1 hour nap I have during lunch break (which sometimes is less and I don't really feel anything after it rip) before going back to work so I can use it to deliver some IC content instead. If I manage to do that, then I will hopefully be writing in a more consistent way that I genuinely want to do ♥︎

[fleuredelys]

As someone revered as an object of sanctity, even Fleurdelys knows better than to trust lightly on the concept of miracles unless there is something that can justify its existence to begin with. If Khaslana doubts that his arrival to Rinascita is due to his own will, then there are very high odds that his presence isn't corporeal, but spiritual and with it... that this may be a dream. While it is still unknown how long exactly it has been since he remembered all of this, regardless of how long or short it was, she could never blame him. It's hard to bring up a truth like this, but it is even more heartbreaking still to find out that he hesitated and struggled to choose the timing when to tell her about this. ◜Khaslana, you...◞

...you fell in love, did you not?

Warm tears cascade down her cheeks as soon as that realization dawns on her, eyes shut close tight as she moves closer to him, hands balling on weak fists against his chest first as her face follows next. Low sobs emerge from roseate lips despite her great effort to keep down her weeping, but it's hard— it's so hard. ◜You are telling me all of this... because this is our goodbye, isn't it?◞ There is so much she wants to say, so much to show him in the event that they could've travelled together more, but even for the former it feels like they are on borrowed time. So she cries, face buried on his chest, a lament hers to shoulder of what ifs and what could have been if he was of this world, of their shared story that was just starting to take new shape with newfound love. ◜The road that lies ahead will be long and filled with trepidations. If only I— if only I could be there next to you to alleviate the burden on your shoulders... It's too unfair...◞

Exactly, for she would never dare to ask him to leave everything behind to stay with her. She who has a duty on her shoulders as the Holy Maiden knows that one's obligations come first and foremost, irregardless of their struggles or personal feelings. Doing that would be like a death sentence, like having a sun caged and ask it to stop shining. This is the path that Khaslana has chosen and if there is any expression of love she can give at this moment, is that of letting him go— no matter if that will break her heart into millions of pieces. If she could, she would go with him in a heartbeat, help him save his world. But she has a duty to fulfill too. Unless...

◜33 to 33...◞ She mumbles against his chest before she pushes herself just a bit so she can speak clearer. ◜Our counts stands on 33 to 33. Should fate rid us of our duties one day and our heart still yearns for the other's... the one who finds the other breaks the tie.◞ Lapis lazuli filled with tears meet sky blue eyes as she sniffs lowly, hand rising to wipe her tears away. ◜Should the day come when Rinascita no longer needs a god to thrive, I will not rest until I find a way to find you. Until then... please, keep me in your thoughts.◞

Khaslana doesn't blame her for having a hard time to understand the whole picture he presented to her through his story, filled with concepts she's unfamiliar with on top of the fact that he isn't too sure if he did the best job at explaining all of it in a way that makes sense. There is too much of it, some of it that he still has yet to understand completely before knowing how to proceed from this moment onward as the dawn of a new cycle begins in Amphoreus. His other hand rises to scratch slightly his cheek, a low chuckle escapes his lips at her question. "I wouldn't give myself that much credit. If everything in Amphoreus is as controlled as that Antikytheran, then it is possible that he has some manner of control over me as well and thus... not being physically here nor by conscious will. I would sooner hypothesize that this is something like a miracle."

Just like a dream.

His hand falls next to him when the second question comes, a solemn look in the face as he turns to look at the sphere of frequencies dancing in the sky alongside the moon and stars that little the nocturne dome. "I had no suspicions of anything until that event when we defeated the Tacet Discords in Egla Town." Which has been weeks ago now, a realisation that makes him want to continue with his explanation further on the spot and not allow any misunderstandings to form. "It wasn't immediate, just bits and pieces I would see in every dream that eventually amounted to my total recollection that happened throughout the weeks. I don't know what exactly triggered it, but I'm sure that there is something that did."

And that is the realisation that he found the hero that he and Cyrene used to dream about long before everything started to break apart.

"Even though I remembered gradually, I have to admit that I knew the truth for a while now. Knowing my promise to Cyrene and my duty with the world, I should have left sooner, but..." He didn't have the heart to leave, not yet. Not after realising that he fell in love with her— he was in denial. But he couldn't do this to her, to keep her hanging without knowing a thing with the strengthening bond they had for the past months, eventually culminating in love. It wouldn't be fair to her, for there must surely be other men out there good for her that will love her and will make her happy.

[fleuredelys]

☥ @caemthe asked: 🐶 + It took Lupa a while to finally get these as they're custom-made, but now that she has them in her power... "Ta da~!" The champion said as she grinned and lifted a hand to show two Ta Da echo figurines with the same color palette as her dear friend. One of them was smaller (Thyia), while the larger Ta Da wore a more solemn look (Fleur).

Cartethyia has spent sufficient time in Septimont to familiarize herself with the city the most, with every little store and establishment she could find and to make a reputation of her own by helping those who needed a helping hand but that did not dare to trouble others either by tradition matters or lack of courage for what doing that could do to their prestige within the society. Imagine the surprise in her eyes the moment she sees the two Ta Da echo figurines, recognition that they must be special glimmering within lapis lazuli depths out of her cognizance of the shape, form and color these figurines use to have.

Roseate lips part in awe as she reaches out to hold them gently in her hands, almost as if they would break if she exercised too much pressure. ◜Aww, look at them! They are so cute!◞ Her thumb grazes over the details of the smaller Ta Da, the corners of her lips immediately lifting in a warm smile when she looks at the bigger one next, taking in every detail from the color palette to the expression. Happiness bubbles within her at the realization that they were made right after her visage, both as she currently looks like and when she uses her Forte and thus acquiring the physical appearance of what in truth she should look like in the present days, after all the years that have passed since she confined herself in the Inverted Tower leading to her freedom.

She brings up the smaller Ta Da right next to her face as he facial expression changes to match that of the figurine. ◜We even look the same! Do we not?◞ Her smile only brightens with her remark as she brings the bigger figurine next to her face too, this time without trying to mirror its solemn expression— there is no need for that at this moment. ◜You should show me where you got these. I would love to see the craft of the talented person who made them.◞ And to request that they make a custom one for Lupa too, but that is something that should be kept as a little secret for now. Given the fact that Lupa is a renowned presence in Septimont due to her gladiator feats, it might be easier to find merchandise shaped to her likeness, but that is a prospect that won't deter her from getting her something special, too.

Something within her azure irises shines as she lowers the figurines to hold them close to her chest, a hint of pale pink dusts over porcelain cheeks as her smile changes into a more demure one. Cartethyia walks closer to Lupa thereafter and once she is close enough, she leans her face closer to whisper to her ear. ◜Thank you for your gift, Lupa. I will treasure it forever.◞ She presses her lips against her cheek in a brief kiss before she immediately retreats from her personal space, contentedness manifesting in a smile that reaches to her eyes. ◜Do you fancy a drink at Solis Tavern? My treat, of course.◞

[fleuredelys]

☥ @inibicion asked: Castorice sat beside her, close but not crowding, letting the hush between them settle like a soft blanket. She didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t ask her to speak - just stayed. "You don’t have to carry it all alone,” she said softly, voice almost part of the stillness. “Just let me be here with you, even if it’s only in silence.” a pause before she added, “I don’t mind the quiet,” Her eyes warm and steady. “Sometimes… that’s where peace begins.”

No one asked her to fight the battles of others who are capable of dealing with the misdoings of their dying world, this is a prospect that Cartethyia is highly aware of. To the Chrysos Heirs, she is a valuable ally whose selfishness led her to join a fight that is not hers to begin with nor it has nothing to do with her. For all they know, she could leave just as she's descended upon this world and nothing would happen. Except that the Holy Maiden isn't that way, specially not when the wrongs of Amphoreus and its malady are so strikingly similar to what she once faced. As soon as the realization dawned on her through the information she was able to gather on her own and what the aureate warriors explained to her, she felt with the moral obligation to stay and do everything in her power to help to the cause.

Alas, that isn't without its consequences on her.

Through the nature given since her conception to her, she subconsciously absorbs surrounding energies— including those born from the Black Tide. As a result, she is met with visible exhaustion and debilitation the more she fights, aftereffects that she always kept hidden behind closed doors so she wouldn't become one more hindrance to the Chrysos Heirs when they have so much on their plate already. Distorted whispers of the dark that had driven to madness some of the gods of this land plague her mind, only coming to a silent quietude under the presence of a singular soul filled with kindness despite the command over the realm of death that fate imposed on her.

Long lashes flutter to a close, a shaky exhale emerges from her nose in defeat at the notion that Castorice picked up on her struggles. She shouldn't be this surprised that she did, after all, their extended relationship would permit this kind of closeness for one to sense when the other is strained in any capacity. Sometimes peace begins from the quiet... she couldn't be more right about that, however cognizant or otherwise she may be of what she has been enduring the past couple of weeks. The next time Fleurdelys opens her eyes, gratitude and fondness glimmer within lapis lazuli depths in a smile that doesn't quite tug at her lips out of the tiredness she feels, but which manifests through the subtle crinkle at the corners of her eyes.

Cartethyia's gaze descends to her hands as she works on removing the glove that covers her right one, traces of corruption that should no longer be there covering its expanse back as it once was when she first arrived to Amphoreus and time allowed her to heal and purify from the dark erosion she experienced much to Leviathan's delight. If Castorice doesn't dare to reach out to hold her hand as they had numerous times when she found out that there is a soul out there that can withstand Death's touch, then so does she by placing her own with warm care atop her own in a gentle hold.

The quiescence that extends thereafter a conduit of what is expressed through an unwavering touch that heals more than one may think, lengthened until the Enlightened One finds peace at communicating her struggles to the demigoddess of Death, all byproduct of her own insistence to keep on fighting so that this world may see a brighter tomorrow one day— the world and the courageous warriors that had forsaken their lives to protect it.

[fleuredelys]

☥ @omorrow asked: 🐶 ( i have to )

It is not too often to be met with such excitement when appointing a moment to meet considering the nature behind their past hangouts, reason why Cartethyia was unsure of what to expect when Asuka insisted that they meet at the plaza and denying any details when asked— something that she didn't particularly mind, specially not when her messages radiated a contagious joy that the Holy Maiden couldn't help but mirror with her own. For this may also be indicative that this meeting stems from blissful reasons and not heavyhearted as sometimes their encounters were whenever the Starscourge was raised in conversation.

Cartethyia sits on a bench of the large plaza in Altissia, hands carefully folded on her lap as she waits for her arrival, only checking the hour by turning her left inner wrist to meet her eyes every now and then. She should be here briefly, as the established hour to meet is nigh.

When she lest expects it, a tiny little dog with long, white fur is placed on her lap from behind her, causing lapis lazuli eyes to widen with surprise moments before they rise to see the culprit: Asuka. A grin on her face that she would soon retaliate with some remark about how secretive she's been over their phone texts if it weren't because the puppy's little whines captures her attention instead. Cartethyia's disposition softens, her hands careful and meticulous as they softly pet the tiny puppy that starts to crawl on her as soon as he was showered with affection, searching for more.

A lighthearted giggle erupts from roseate lips as she scoops the puppy up in her arms, as if obeying to the little creature's demand. ◜Aww.◞ Feeling how soft the small dog is, Cartethyia can't help but rub her face against his fur a tad, marvelling in its quasi velvet-like softness. ◜Do I need to worry about how you got the puppy?◞ She chooses to tease rather than show her discontent for the previous secrecy, the edges of her lips curling in a smile as she looks towards Asuka again. ◜If I don't, then I will forgive you for hiding this from me.◞

Both the secret and the little puppy, that is.

[fleuredelys]

Piece by piece, the incomplete puzzle that left more questions than answers in its wake is coming to life, drawing a solemn picture that could only belong to someone who is on the path of a noble duty to protect one's own world. Everything Fleurdelys was questioning within the confines of her mind, starting from deity names she didn't find familiar to the message laid within dreams so gruesome that could be mistaken by nightmares pointed towards a prospect that she knew too little to contemplate, yet that crossed her mind: the presence of another world.

What Khaslana explains is convoluted at best, making it hard to understand to someone who is unfamiliar with the concepts of the world he lives in to follow— but she did her best. She truly did.

Frail fingers tighten their hold onto the white-haired's in silent support as he expresses fear for an event that had already happened, that has no reason to inspire any less fright even if it has been long enough since it befell. Judging by what he's saying, it is as if he was in some manner of cycle that was replaying events of a former life that he had already gone through, but in this world instead. What catches her attention the most is the existence of something similar to the plight that actively desolates Rinascita: the Black Tide. Both in name and in effects as per what she reminisces from what Khaslana had previously told her from his dreams.

It is at this moment that a single word comes to mind, one that was everything to Khaslana since the very beginning: worldbearing. The title he received from those tarot cards blessed by Oronyx, the expectations of a hero meant to carry everyone's hopes and wishes on his shoulders in a dying world only to find out... that everything he knew is false, his homeworld an experiment base for some cruel mastermind behind it all that manipulates everything with a scope of their design. To be fated with the duty of bearing a world only to find out that it is set to ruin no matter what he does is too cruel of a destiny. Far too cruel.

But even with this knowledge, there are some questions left unanswered that Cartethyia cannot make heads or tails of: if he is from another world, how is he here?

◜So in finding out that external sources are affecting your world, you turned your hope in outside forces in turn... is that how you came here? To find the strength you felt you were lacking to face the long journey ahead?◞ Difficult to believe in the notion of world traveling after finding no other case herself as it is, she doesn't doubt Khaslana's story. He has no reason to lie— not to her at least, not when it is crystal clear that sentiments of love were born in this chapter of his life. Nevertheless, that begs another question... ◜Since when did the clarity of your mind return?◞

Intertwining hands when there is so much left unsaid to explain in silence mirrors how they have always been in moments like this. Even when Cartethyia is afflicted by his sudden burst of emotion, when something is clearly happening that he hasn't found the strength to say yet, she is there with him. Waiting patiently, never once pressing or prodding. Khaslana brings her hand to his lips when the ride of sentiments subsides to press a grateful kiss before lowering it back down, this time close to his thigh rather than the roughness of the tree they're sitting upon. "My mind was like in a fog since I've came to Avinoleum. I didn't realise it back then, as every detail fell right in place with what it should have been like: I was to leave Aedes Elysiae to hone my swordsmanship skills, then return to my hometown and protect those I hold dear to me as a man. Except... there is but one difference: I was meant to go to Castrum Kremnos, not here."

With the plan that Cyrene and he crafted in order to protect Amphoreus from the clutches of Destruction as that Theoros predicted— no, wished upon our beloved world as if it were some playgrounds of an experiment too lofty to believe that it could come to fruition to begin with, he was bound to find many unknown variables. Confusion of the mind was one of them and even so he was able to remember... because of her. "In reality, I already went through this once: when I returned home, it was soon engulfed by what the fairies call the Black Tide with nothing that I could do to prevent it. My parents, my teacher and friends... as I was slaying those monsters that came with the tide, I realised that some of them transformed in the very same monsters that brought destruction to my homeland." His free hand rises to touch the spot of his heart, fingers digging into the clothes that cover his chest. "My heart still trembles at the very memory of it."

"Only Cyrene and I survived the catastrophe, so we embarked on a journey to continue honing ourselves. Our world was sickened with the Black Tide and we wanted to do something for it. We encountered many allies on our way, and also lost them, each of them brave until the very end doing their duty to protect the world we hold so dear. Until, once again, it was only Cyrene and I standing at the edge of the world. There, we found the architect of all the misdoings of our world and in all his arrogance that we were just part of his experiment told us a truth: Destruction is one of the paths that gazed upon our world, and so our world would meet its ends with it. But perhaps it was part of his arrogance that we came to the conclusion that there are more paths than just Destruction gazing upon our world, so Cyrene and I traced a plan: one of us would walk down the arduous path of Destruction, gathering the form of strength we know that would make a change in our world while the other would capture the gaze of another's. It is a risky one with no guarantee for success, for we are counting with the intervention of outside forces to our world."

[fleuredelys]

“Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight seemed to watch the stars above them.”

— Heinrich Heine, Donna Clara (from Poems and Ballads of Heinrich Heine, trans. Emma Lazarus)

[fleuredelys]

Kissing Khaslana feels like a cocoon that is reaching to its last phase of metamorphosis, right when the butterfly spreads its wings first and out of the protection that it has previously enveloped itself until its maturity reached its conclusion. It's like feeling the gentle zephyr ruffle the wings' feathers, feel the sun embrace her with its light and warmth. Fleurdelys' heart races with joy at the adrenaline and the glee that she is corresponded, feeling the albescent-haired's arms wrap tighter against her frame. Her own arms tighten their grip on him too, unwilling to let go nor to feel anything else that isn't him and the manifestation of their love.

Lapis lazuli irises quiver through aureate lashes when they open slightly, porcelain cheeks burning in scarlet colors when the other's intention to deepen the kiss is materialized— permission which she concedes in a heartbeat, plump lips parting for him at his command. Lithe fingers tremble and clench on his clothes at the warm sensation of his tongue running in her mouth, his taste both overwhelming and stimulating like an aphrodisiac. Ah, how she wished they could stay like this forever, thinking of nothing else than the two of them, basking in one another's warmth and protection.

But even Cartethyia, being the enabler of dreams as she is, knows that this is an unattainable dream to her.

And just as if destiny were mocking her is when she feels the first hint of warmth and humidity on the fingers that so tenderly caress the white-haired's face. Her eyes open with surprise, immediate concern eating at her as soon as the realization that her dear Khaslana is crying. Watching him press his face against the palm of her hand and trapping her hand in place so it doesn't move away as he kisses it should bring her comfort, but it does not. All there is is a growing worry at the sight of tears that don't cease to fall down and confusion that is liberated through tears of her own.

Why must you cry so, o' blazing sun? Has the weight of all those dreams finally caught up with you? Or is there... something else?

Light brows furrow as her other hand moves to cradle the other side of his face too, roseate lips pressing a kiss on his forehead meant to comfort and heal, to convey that she is there for him no matter what. ◜Let's sit somewhere.◞ She offers, feeling his head nodding in her hands as a quick response. Something tells her that there is more than meets the eye, that his lack of sleep tonight is due something bigger that she does not know yet. Whatever it is, she wants to be by his side— she truly wants. That's why even when they sit on the thick branch of a tree, her hand never leaves his even when silence makes itself manifest betwixt them, its continuation perpetuated out of her wish for him to collect his thoughts until he decides to speak.

Celestial eyes blink slow and amorous when her hand cups the side of his face, her touch soft like luxurious satin grazing his skin, healing like a balm. Inertia commands him to lean into her touch and he makes no act of resistance against the directive. His heart beats vigorously within his ribcage, its warmth spreading throughout his entire body like the birth of a star lighting its way in the dark universe. Seeing her above him as she remains in his embrace, looking so tenderly at him sparks a fire within that is a thousandfold stronger than anything he could imagine of her or dream of her when he came to terms with the fact that he fell in love with her.

Khaslana stays still for a brief moment as soon as he notices her face drawing closer to him, her long lashes closing with intent that impulses him to move and meet her halfway in a kiss that is long overdue. The kiss is slow and gentle, testing and prodding as a result of the inexperience he has and that the same might apply to her, judging by the hesitance to do too much, but there is nothing that could be too much coming from her.

Because he loves her.

One of his arms descends to her waist as the other rises to cradle the back of her head, to bring her closer, their kiss more intense as bravery burns bright the longer they explore and learn. His lips move in synchrony with hers, a slow waltz consisting of capturing her plush lip between his own and let it slide slowly. The taste of her mouth more prominent in his own. Khaslana takes the initiative to draw his tongue tentatively against one of her lips, a silent request to go further soon to bask in the delight of acceptance.

He truly loves her.

He wants to commit to memory every inch of her lips, of her mouth. To engrave the taste of her on his tongue as their frames mold together like pieces of a puzzle that only now becomes complete through their union. It is at this moment that a spark of sentimentality strikes at the thought that this will be their first and last time, that perhaps he shouldn't have robbed her of the joy of a first love— or a love at all that can be there for her. There is no denial that he extended his stay here because of her, because he has a hard time to let go.

Tears begin to stream down his face as their tender kiss comes to an end, one of his hands reaches out to keep hers in place while he turns his face to press another kiss to the palm of her hand. The weight of emotions he holds makes it hard to speak, thus he weeps instead, ride the heavy feelings that keep surging from within as the pinnacle of a moment too beautiful to be true in a dream that he will never have ever again. One in which he's become a knight and found the heroine of his and Cyrene's dreams, only to fall in love with her and that love be reciprocated.

But the time to awaken has come.

[fleuredelys]

Calcharo's playful retaliation is like a sharp blade to the shattered dignity Cartethyia tries her best to keep from crumbling, byproduct of her own realization at how inappropriate she must've sounded. Too much for what it is in reality, for she has no interest in ogling a man that she has just met in a state of undress— on the contrary, this is just to check his corroded condition and decide what may be the best course of action to take. She takes these requests not lightly, for the price to pay isn't the affected's alone but so is her own if she doesn't exercise caution. ◜As far as I am aware, you should be the one in the position of pleading. Should you not?◞ Despite the fact that she turns her head slightly, she makes no move to actually look at him uninvited, merely enough to show a hint of a smile. It is just a matter of perspective however one is to take his quip and she appreciates the humor even if what made them cross paths to begin with is everything but a laughing matter.

The Holy Maiden turns around when his consent is verbalized, an indescribable look in the eye as soon as the scars littering his chest greet her sight. ◜...◞ One step after another brings her closer to the white-haired man, lapis lazuli irises taking in every scar, each of them a story to be told from a previous chapter of his life. Cartethyia keeps herself at a prudent distance from him, for there is no necessity to make things even more uncomfortable than they must be for him to admit vulnerability and to show it to her as a means to ask for help where he could not mend the wrongs of his current state. ◜Look at you. I cannot even imagine the hardship you must've endured to be breathing here.◞ Breathing and alive, for that matter. While composed and solemn, her eyes mirror the same compassion that was laced with her voice as she walks around him to inspect everything that there is.

Similarly as she saw on his chest, many more scars cover his back: one larger than the next, another deeper than the previous ones. All of them of various lengths and sizes, some of them shallow while others alarmingly deep to not to entertain the possibility that he could have had some organ perforated— she hopes he was lucky enough not to, or that at least it is superficial enough that allows some manner of restoration with the passage of time. Nevertheless, none of it is indicative enough to tell that he struggles with the dark erosion of the Waveworn at all, let alone in a significant way that pushed him to seek help. Thus she completes the circle before him where she was when she approached him first, arms crossing below her chest as her eyes peer into his icy blues. ◜None of these scars show any visible signs of corruption. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you are completely fine. But my sentience warns me of what my eyes try to deceive me to believe.◞

If there are any good news Calcharo can take from this is that Fleurdelys was never one to remain with what's shown on the surface, but one to delve further until she finds a solution. ◜It is possible that the spread of your erosion stems from the use of your Forte?◞ She didn't ignore the Tacet Mark that occupies the expanse of his forehead horizontally when she first laid her gaze upon his face moments before and as a Resonator herself too, she knows the effects that using one's Forte can bring— only generally. For each and every Resonator is a world on its own, each one of them sensitive to a particular set of frequencies that another isn't and vice versa.

MOST THINGS THAT CAME Calcharo’s way could be handled, but this…well, it was out of his hands. This…affliction��had not been shared with anyone else, and though he still could fight in a way that made it seem as if nothing was different about his prowess with a blade, he was actually inwardly struggling. It had to be dealt with as soon as possible, and so he forsook pride for survival’s sake. He had not dragged himself through blood and mud, fighting each and every day of his life to this point, just to give up and accept his circumstance. He was truly grateful that Fulvia had taken a chance with him, pointing Cartethyia in his direction and leaving it to her as to whether she would aid him or not. After all, with his reputation, she could have turned him away.

     He wouldn’t have blamed her.

     ❝She seems reliable. You were right to place your trust in her.❞ She reminded him of Aalto in a sense – both careful about how they went about their business, only allowing certain things when they had enough information to make an informed choice. But that wasn’t important right now, was it? When those eyes opened once more, those bright, oceanic blues meeting with his cold, icy stare, it was then that he could tell that Cartethyia’s decision was made long before she had granted him an answer. Relief washed over him again, shoulders that had been subtly tense, no longer so. ❝Very well. Lead the way.❞

+++ ---

The hotel that the ‘Holy Maiden’ had chosen to stay was one that was beautiful on the outside as much as it was within. A sweet aroma lingered in the air, everything immaculate in its presentation. One would have been hard-pressed to find even the slightest hint of dust upon a single item at the front entrance. Neither he, nor Cartethyia, were given any mind as they both went further within, soon coming to a stop in front of what he could only assume was her room. As soon as he was permitted to enter, his eyes quickly moved about the room out of habit, searching for various points of entry, as well as taking into account the layout. The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts was that soft click to the door as it closed, as well as the words that passed Cartethyia’s lips. Turning to fully look upon her, brows rose just a fraction, a flicker of surprise. ❝Not even a hint of a please?❞ Was that a jest that slipped from him? Rare as it was, in an instance like this one, he couldn’t help the slight sarcasm that mingled with his question.

     Well...he best get to it.

     Making his way towards one of the room’s chairs, he lifted his hand to begin stripping, pausing only to see if Cartethyia’s gaze was elsewhere. He wouldn’t have been bothered under her stare, yet he was uncertain as to whether she wanted to watch him, well…strip. Her focus was glued firmly outside the window, a fact that did amuse him slightly as he began to do as she had asked. Gauntlets were removed, and everything else that he had upon his person save for his pants as he leaned forward a little, arms resting upon his thighs. ❝You can turn around now.❞ His chest and back were littered with countless scars, an unpleasant sight to bear witness to depending on the company. Though, then again, outside of when he used his forte, one wasn’t really privy of seeing him so…vulnerable and exposed to begin with.

[fleuredelys]

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. Previously I've been mulling over what could possibly be of so much interest in Phrolova about Cartethyia that makes her wish to unveil the mysteries of the world behind some "concept" which, out of a lack of context and knowledge of what was bound to happen in the Fabricatorium of the Deep, I attributed to her power. Which could be part of it despite what she is able to do, grand as it is in a world governed by the laws of sound. However, knowing everything that she was behind of for hundreds of years there is another variable that is stronger than the last.

「Not human, yet possessing a will whole as any mortal's. A creation molded by Divinity... how I envy her. If only I could unearth the universal truth behind her success, then perhaps the echoes from the other shore would sing even sweeter.」

This is referred to the fact that having died, she was able to resuscitate on her own body and maintain her sense of self with it, untainted. Not only that, that Leviathan through Imperator's powers was able to shape Cartethyia the way she was shaped to begin with, a will whole as a mortal's in a human's body despite not being naturally human due to her conception, predetermined in a way by Imperator's prophecy of the one who would become the Blessed Maiden and put an end to the second Dark Tide.

While there is more to it than just the incident that had befallen in the Inverted Tower, Cartethyia's success behind her resurrection is due to a mix of variables that were harmonized with one another to make it possible:

What a human soul leaves behind upon their death is a series of reverberations that can either disperse or distort and, were the latter happen, they would turn into Tacet Discords and thus they would no longer be human. In Cartethyia's case, in the part that Fleurdelys split from herself containing everything she wouldn't bear to lose to be precise, her reverberations neither dispersed or distorted. This is because she used the last of her after overclocking to not allow that warm light to fade and thus she became Rover's strength to topple Fleurdelys in battle, saved within their Tacet Mark.

Which leads to the second variable, since we have the reverberations, there is a need for a vessel where to insert them in. Given the fact that Fleurdelys' body was her true body and unlike Cartethyia's echo-like one it did not fade away, the vessel that would host Cartethyia's reverberations and ultimately Fleurdelys' too was already there, there would be no need to resort to extreme measures like the ones Phrolova had to come to terms with so long as those dear to her would continue to live on despite the discrepancies in character of each of the villager.

On the third variable, there is the need for a conduit which serves as a direct parallel between Imperator and Phrolova. With Phrolova's ability to harmonize frequencies and manipulate them to her will, this is a task she continuously performed to keep the villagers' reverberations as close to their former selves as possible, albeit in a more unsavory way. To be able to resurrect fully as herself, there was the need for a force to lead her reverberations back into her body, which is precisely what Imperator did at Rover's command but also out of a sense of gratitude for Cartethyia and everything she did and endured for the past decades, specially for helping them escape Leviathan's clutches.

While that could be the end of it, there is a fourth which is Leviathan Itself, and that is that Cartethyia's was Its creation through Imperator's influence and power, but mainly out of Leviathan's will— who is a Immortal Divinity. This adds another layer of depth to Cartethyia's mortality (more like lack of thereof) which, either independent on its own or in combination with the previous variable as per Imperator's intervention, cause the impossibility of Cartethyia's death and immediate resuscitation were she to fall in combat.

[fleuredelys]

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈. Following the topic of sentience, this time it concerns one's ability to know when someone is thinking about them (potentially stronger feelings being aimed at them through their thoughts rather than anything) following the premise of gods being aware of people's prayers and wishes, but also curses. Fenrico via his extended symbiosis (more like parasitism from Leviathan's end, but it is fair to call it symbiosis as he benefitted from this despite being misguided) was able to sense them equally, and so was Cartethyia able to hear people's prayers of people long after she disappeared and Imperator became inactive in people's lives for 20 years. This sentience isn't limited to have a host who can listen to these strong sentiments of the people on behalf of the divinity they serve (although its origins did begin as such), but as it matures with time, it is that same person the recipient of those thoughts as if they were a divinity on their own right.

[fleuredelys]

𝐗𝐗𝐈. Cartethyia is shown to be able to sense Leviathan's remnants from the Black Shores to the coast of Septimont (plus the layered addition that it happens at the seabed), which makes a total of 12,236m in in-game distance. Keeping this in consideration and that her sentience doesn't solely extend to Leviathan but also to sense Imperator, her sentience can be described as making out of the limits of space nothing so long as she had an extended and meaningful interaction with any entity of a spiritual kind.

[fleuredelys]

Fire Emblem: Three Houses - Between Heaven and Earth

[fleuredelys]

I'm well-rested from going to work this morning and I plan to make it everyone's problem.

[fleuredelys]

“You just keep pushing. You just keep pushing. I made every mistake that could be made. But I just kept pushing.”

— Rene Descartes (via fyp-philosophy)