theleadingman | avalon: inbox

I know, love.

[His voice drops a few notes, somber as he curls his touch against hers. It is different. He can only imagine how he might feel if Fran had been whisked away, or if perhaps the Captain had made his way here only to leave. The sting would be deep, even for him, and he's not half so empathic as the woman sitting before him.]

Part of them wished for it, I've no doubt, but I'm just as certain that they were quite happy to be here with you.

[He'll not risk her allowing herself to forget that.]

You have that effect on people, I've found.

I... Yeah. That might be true. It's probably true.

[Her gaze falls on his hand as it touches hers and her own eventually turns to take a more proper hold on his. She knows what he says is likely the case. If she had to choose between letting them go home and staying with her, she would have picked the former easily.

Doesn't make it hurt any less. It's harder, perhaps, not being able to say goodbye. She's not sure what to make of that. Drawing in a breath, Aerith shakes her head. Doesn't much matter now, really.]

I bet you do, too. I'm glad... that you're still here.

[More than glad. Relieved, really.]

But if you ever had the chance to go home, Balthier, I'd want you to take it. You know that, don't you?

[A faint smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, his own hold shifting to match hers, thumb now tracing along the edge of her wrist in a small but affectionate show of reassurance. Of course that's what she would want for him— even though he's not entirely certain he'd want it for himself. It's a rather complicated affair, all told.]

I know you would. That's who you are.

[She wants what's best for everyone around her. Sometimes, however, what's 'best' isn't always plain.]

I don't know that it would be so simple a choice for me. In many ways, I've gained as much as I've left behind— more, in fact.

[Of course, he's talking about her.]

And I'm quite selfish, you see. I'd want to take you with me.

[His touch is such a simple one, but the moment and the words he offers make it much more weighted. Aerith has, without a doubt, thought about what happens when a day comes that their distinct worlds will take them away from one another. She's thought about how to handle that and concluded she will only handle it when it comes up. To think on it, to dwell on it, unnecessary stressors.

She must enjoy every moment she can with him.

His words, reassuring that they are, leave her smiling just a touch. Until he should finish. When he does, for some moments, she's not sure she's even heard him right.]

I... I'm not sure that's even possible. I don't think we can do that. Not because I don't want to.

[She's the last of her kind. Doesn't she need to go back home to do what she's meant to do? Or can it be that should she never return that her world will simply remain in stasis forever? ...At least until she comes back.]

I know.

[His gaze darkens slightly as he lifts his own glass to his lips and takes a drink, his brows drawing downwards. It isn't a comment he'd made lightly, regardless of how easily it may have seemed to roll off his tongue, but he knows the situation is far more complicated than that, even if it weren't for all the unknown factors this place provides.]

Even so, it wouldn't make me want it any less.

[Of course he's exactly the sort that would want what he's unlikely to be able to have. His hand remains in hers, warm and unflinching as he takes another sip and sets his glass aside.]

I'm in no hurry to return to Ivalice. Should the opportunity arise, I don't know that I would take it.

[She takes him in for several long moments, just content to take her own glass into hand. Her gaze drops onto the contents and she watches as she swirls the liquid around casually. No. None of it is particularly simple. Every situation involving them is complicated. Any kind of a future is almost out of the question. It's a hard thing to talk about. A hard thing not to keep in consideration.

Eventually, she smiles, light as it may be.]

I know you mean it. It's a nice thought, isn't it. I don't think we get to choose when we go home, though. I think it just... happens. So tonight could be the last night that we have together. I could wake up tomorrow and you won't be here. Or, the reverse.

[She offers up a shrug.] I don't think people get asked. I think they just get taken home. Otherwise, Tifa and Nanaki would have said goodbye.

Choice rarely enters into the equation, regardless of where we are.

[There's a note of bitterness in his voice, resignation, because of course she's right. They'd had no choice in coming here, and should the time come when they meet their supposed goal in this place and are 'rewarded' with the opportunity to go home, he'd like to think that choice may play a part there— but it's optimism, something he's not as good at as he'd like to be. That scenario is unlikely enough in its own right; Tifa and Nanaki had been whisked away, as had Lightning before them, and a handful of other near-friends he'd met in this place.

He grimaces, looking down into the contents of his glass while leaving it untouched.]

I've never been terribly fond of 'fate,' if it can be called that. Mankind should be free to choose our own paths in life.

[Should.]

[Maybe he's right about that. Each and every time Zack was going on a mission, he often said he'd come back. Never really a promise. Just something that was better than simply saying goodbye, even if either of them genuinely thought it would be a sombre farewell. In the end, the last time they saw one another, neither of them said a goodbye then either. But it's highly unlikely that either of them knew it would be the last time.

Balthier is likely onto something there. Aerith shakes her head slowly, not in disagreement, but simply in how unfortunate the circumstances were then. How unfortunate they were with Tifa and Nanaki. How unfortunate they can be going forward if they so choose it. If they so will it.]

Fate doesn't really seem like something any of us want to give into. This situation... the inability to say goodbye, to not know, I'm not sure that's fate at all. I think it's just... Random? Random, maybe. Without rhyme or reason. I know that doesn't sound great, but I can't think of another way it can go.

[She shakes her head slowly.]

[It's as cruel a fate as having one's future fixed in stone. Whether one knows what lies before them or the future holds possibilities both good and ill, the lack of choice makes both options prisons of differing design.

He wants to say that he'll defy fate without question, but it's not a promise that he or anyone else can make. He frowns into his drink, his brow furrowed.]

You're not wrong. All the more reason to make the most of what we have.

[He's spoken of such things before, often with a certain degree of optimism. He doesn't believe in the sentiment any less now, but their recent losses leave a bitter taste in his mouth.]

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I've never cared much for any situation where I did not have some degree of control.

Yeah. I guess you're right.

[Another case of things being beautiful because they don't last. Aerith has grown to dislike that thought process, though she's not sure she'd say it so openly to him. She wants to believe. She wants to have hope. It's simply so hard to hold onto. So hard to give credence to. The more she loses here, the less hope she has.

For once, it doesn't seem like anyone's at all inclined to try coercing her to changing how she views things. Even Balthier, who's been, up until this moment, quick to keep her more optimistic.]

That's not a surprise at all.

[Aerith drowns herself for a breath in her glass, grimacing once she's indulged. Shaking her head and piecing herself together, she releases a sigh.]

I guess all we can do now is keep moving forward. Until we can't do that anymore.

[He looks at her across the counter for a moment, his brows pulling downwards as he frowns, and as she drinks, he allows himself to release his hold on her hand– though only long enough to circle around the counter itself and join her on the other side, sliding both arms around her waist from behind and allowing his own drink to sit forgotten for the time being. His frown remains, but he leans forward to rest his chin against her shoulder, an offer of comfort and solidarity. For all his efforts to keep her optimistic, the truth is that he himself is a bit too much of a realist to keep that effort up now, when he, too, feels the loss so keenly, sees how deeply it has cut her.]

For whatever it may be worth, you won’t be moving forward alone.

[But he knows the heavy sorts of thoughts that weigh on her– and how long can he truly promise to be here? The promise that she won’t be alone is a conditional one, beyond his power to keep, and he hates the fact that this world may well make a liar out of him.]

Cold comfort, I’m sure, given the circumstances. We do what we must– an idea I fear both of us are far too well-acquainted with for our own good.

[The moment he begins to move around the counter to join her, Aerith sets her glass down. Instead of whatever else she may be expecting, which is likely some more reassuring words from him, he simply holds her. She realises in hindsight, that perhaps that may have been what she needed all along. Hugs are underrated, honestly. Sometimes it's the one things she genuinely needs. Sometimes it's something that a lot of people need and just don't get enough of.

She lets him linger, lifting her hands to rest over where he's situated his hold about her. It's a light touch, not inclined to turn him away or otherwise spurn his company. On the contrary, she needs him near. If only because she has no idea how long that will last. If it even will. More than ever, she has to be reminded of the finality of their relationship. All good things come to an end.]

Yeah. That's one way to put it. I'm sure that they're happy. Probably don't even know that we met here. It's better that way. I wouldn't want them to be sad, too.

[Maybe that's an infinite double standard. It's okay if Aerith hurts. It's not okay for those closest to her to.]

["Probably don't even know that we met here."

Those words make his blood come dangerously close to turning to ice in his very veins, even as he pulls himself against her warmth in a reassuring embrace, her hands settled lightly atop his. Were they, too, doomed to forget one another?

It was bad enough that they didn't have control over who came and went, that they would be denied the chance to say goodbye when that time did come. He hadn't given much thought to the fact that if other people's stories were to be believed, they wouldn't remember one another at all if they parted ways. He hadn't wanted to give it thought.

He grits his teeth for a moment, remaining unseen behind her, and turns his head to press a chaste kiss against her temple.]

You're always worried about other people.

[An observation, rather than a criticism.]

I can't imagine anyone ever forgetting you, regardless. Even if they don't quite remember meeting here... I have no doubt you left your mark, love.

[He draws himself all the closer to her and blissfully unaware of the thoughts fluttering through his pretty head, Aerith assumes it is merely his means of comforting her. What he follows up with is comfort in its own way. That no matter what happens, she remains herself. She still approaches situations in the same way, with the same mentality.

She always worries about others. What they want. What they deserve. So rarely does she ever think of herself. Maybe that's just the way it is, however. She can't imagine being any other way, and she suspects anyone who knows her would feel quite the same.]

Maybe. It doesn't really matter if I've left my mark or not.

[Which is true. It doesn't matter. Not really. Whether they remember or not, that's not a concern. Not in the broad spectrum of things. What really does matter is that those they meet, those they cross paths with, that they individuals find happiness. In some way. Doesn't have to be this world. Doesn't even have to be the next one. Just needs to be sometime.]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring any of this to you. I'm sure you've got your mind other places, too.

[He lets out a soft, breathless laugh just above her ear, humorless, and gently shakes his head before he takes a moment to bury his nose and lips into soft, chestnut hair. He does not pull away, does not allow any more space to come between them, but remains precisely where he is, his embrace secure, the touch of his hands to her own just as much for his own comfort as it might be for hers.]

I believe I came here by choice, did I not?

[They both have a lot on their minds right now, given all that's gone on.]

I miss them, too— and given there's nothing simple about the situation as it stands, feelings regarding it are going to be complex no matter which angle one approaches from.

[And it's fine to feel all of it, something he has to remind himself of, inclined as he is to tuck such things away, unseen.]

I came here to be with you. This is simply a part of that.

[She hears it. The subtle rumble of his voice in his laughter. A little hollow, if she was going to describe it. With all of the reasons for why it ought to be. For those moments, she simply savours the feeling. What it's like to be held in such a way. What it means for them together. How much it means to have him there when she needs him.

Not that she couldn't handle things on her own. She could. There's no doubting that Aerith is an extraordinarily strong woman. It's simply nice to have his companionship. Something to support her if she should need it. When she should need it. She can't do everything alone, after all.]

You just came here to be with me? [It encourages her to loose a small laugh as well. A bit shaky and uncertain. Touched by the sentiment. Not really surprised, considering all she and Balthier have been through together by this point.] You could've been doing something important. I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I know I'll be okay in time. What're we going to do about Clover? I guess... I can keep her. Probably make the house not feel so empty.

[Right now, Clover's little mewls are the only things keeping Aerith from going absolutely bonkers, she's sure.]

There is nothing more important to me than this.

[It's the sort of candor he would never offer anyone else, not so freely; the number of people he trusts enough to be so open with is quite small, and in this place, Aerith now has something of a monopoly on his trust— well-earned, at that. He squeezes her hand gently, leaving it tucked against her stomach, nodding his approval before he carefully props his chin atop her head.]

I think she would be happiest with you. Tifa would be glad to know she was in such excellent hands, as well.

[He sees no reason to uproot the poor thing.]

Besides, she's very good company. I'm fond of her, myself.

[Is that true...? She has no reason not to believe him. Aerith doubts he often says things like that, if he ever does. He's not a man who says things he doesn't genuinely mean. And he isn't a man who really speaks much about his feelings.

She squeezes his hand back in return. It's acknowledgement of his presence. Appreciation, unspoken though it may be, of his devotion to her. Of the way he cares so deeply about her feelings and how she's handling this situation. She's sure she could be facing it better. She's also sure that she could be facing it considerably worse.

Her thoughts turn over onto Clover and she nods slowly.]

That's your way of saying we're keeping her, I take it.

Unless you're terribly opposed, of course, but I can't imagine that.

[It's not his home, and not his decision to make, after all, but he thinks that not only would it be what Tifa wanted, but that it might bring Aerith some semblance of peace. It's not the same as having her beloved friend back— but he thinks both Aerith and Clover would be happiest if the kitten stayed, in the long run.]

I can't think of anywhere she'd rather be. She's made herself quite comfortable, by now. It would be a shame to upset all that.

No. Of course not.

[When she thinks of Clover, she considers how confused the kitten must be. Not knowing where Tifa is. It's disorienting enough when it comes to being without another person, but... for a cat, it must be doubly so. What is she supposed to think when her mother mysteriously vanishes?

Aerith wears a frown for a moment or two before she nods, as if she's confirming it for herself, though it's very likely that she's already made the decision before even having this conversation. In the end, she doesn't need Balthier's input. She would have done things with or without it, after all.]

Yeah. She should stay. She's probably really confused. Maybe a little scared. I want to help with that, if I can. Besides, I know she likes you too, so right now, my two favourite people are here.

[That's right. Clover is now a person.]

[Clover certainly is a person— she'll receive no argument from him on that point. He nods his agreement; he doubts she truly needed his input, but her remark regarding being one of her favorite people sets something alight in his heart, as her affections so often do.

'You fill my heart with fire,' she'd once told him, and he feels much the same.]

I can think of no one better to offer her comfort.

[Aerith's kindness and compassion are precisely what Clover needs at this time. He smiles softly, turning his head to press another kiss against her temple.]

As for me, I'll stay as long as you'll allow. I dislike the idea of you in that house alone— I would much rather be there with you.

[His flat is seeing less and less use, as it stands.]

[Her head tips as she considers where she ought to move Clover. Can't keep her in Tifa's old room. It's so empty without Tifa there and admittedly, every time she walks in, her heart feels heavy and her chest grows tight. And for some of those moments that she's in there, Aerith wonders if she might cry. It would be better to move the kitten into her own room.

Maybe Clover will sleep with her. That... that would be nice.

Balthier's words hit her ears and as he presses that kiss to her temple, she feels her eyebrows knit together.]

What about Fran? You can't just leave her on her own. She hasn't been here long, Balthier.

[The question would likely seem a natural one to just about anyone who didn't understand the relationship he and his partner shared intimately— which was just about anyone and everyone outside of the two of them. He laughs briefly, a soft and almost derisive sound that he murmurs against her temple, though his amusement is genuine.]

She has not, no, and I fear she already tires of being in such close quarters with me. Sharing a flat, it turns out, is quite different from sharing a ship and living out of inns. Even knowing one another as long as we have, I think a few new quirks have come to light. Fran likes the quiet— I believe she quite enjoys the nights she gets to herself.

[It's not as though he hasn't had a fair few overnight visits that have kept him out of her hair, after all.]

Besides, spending time with you hardly means abandoning my partner.

[...There's probably more space apart on a ship than there is a flat. It doesn't sound so crazy when he's explaining that Fran might very well appreciate having her own space. His voice rumbles up against her temple and she draws in a long breath, holding it for just a few moments more before she releases it.

...She wonders... if they've talked about her. Maybe. Probably. But what has Balthier said? She can only guess. Fran is someone with whom he can truly be himself. It is very likely that he's decently honest with her. In his way, he suspects.]

What makes you think you wouldn't have issues living here with me? I'm sure you'd want your own space. The house isn't that big.

[Generous, yes. Big for one person and a kitten, yes. But he has his schematics for his airship. He will need space... She wants to give him that space.]

I want you here if that's what you want, but I'm not going to force it either. I don't want you doing it because you feel sorry for me.

Who’s to say I won’t be the troublesome one?

[For as much as he loves to lean into his leading man persona, he’s not unaware of the fact that he can be difficult at times, even surprisingly thorny on occasions if rubbed the wrong way. Perhaps he’s putting her on a bit of a pedestal, but it’s difficult to imagine ever finding himself tiring of her company— in some part because of the constant reminders this place has offered that their time is precious. Everyone’s is.]

I seem to remember touching on a few nerves when I was your patient.

[Many of those were Tifa’s, but their friendship hadn’t suffered for it. It does, in this moment, occur to him that they are suddenly discussing a very serious step forward— but he’s been plain enough with his feelings, with her and with himself. It’s not so alarming, is it?]

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