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[ He might not agree with Ezar's assessment of himself - but he can understand, at least, feeling like you'll never measure up to people from stories. After all, that was how G'raha himself had felt for the longest time - including about Summer.

The word 'disappointment' doesn't ping as familiar until Summer begins insisting she can still hear him. And it doesn't take long to remember what 'him' she's referring to as she grows brighter. Emet-Selch, telling her what a disappointment she turned out tob be, while he struggles to breath through his injuries on the ground.

There are so many things to address and he wants to help all of them, but he is only one person and cannot. Ezar's issues are deep rooted so he reaches out for Summer, for the moment, to address the light she's trying to contain

He knows she won't burst with it, become waxy and implacable, but there's an anxiety in the set of his ears all the same. He rests his hand on her back, offering silent comfort until she gathers herself again.

She asks for a story. It's nostalgically familiar, of her asking for little tales or for him to read to her back in the Ocular. It makes something fond and familiar surge up in him. ]

I never told you how my first attempt to secure Beq-Lugg's help went, did I?

[ His tails flick a bit and he looks to Ezar. ]

Beq-Lugg is a powerful mage, well versed in a manner of magics - but especially those of the soul. I sought their help in attempting to find a way to help transport Summer to me.

[ He is revealing a bit with that statement, but he looks back to Summer. ]

They are also fond of creating familiars - magical creatures that one can use to perform tasks, or to fight for you. The first time I attempted to entreat them for help, they did not answer. And so, in my youthful folly, I tried to enter their home to speak with them directly.

[ His smile goes lopsided. ]

No sooner had I opened the door then all manner of familiars were upon me. Suits of armor, but things like floating paintings and brooms and all manner of creature from their garden.

Most ceased when I backed away but the brooms - the brooms chased me all the way back to the docks of Sullen.

Edited 2022-06-25 20:33 (UTC)

[ Summer saying that he is not a disappointment sends a strange shock through Ezar, that feeling like his heart has squeezed in his chest, half hope and half horror. He wishes such a thing could be true, and knows leadenly that it is not, it's merely that he's too good at keeping his secrets. Yet it still feels traitorously good to hear, like he wishes he could roll in it until it sinks into his skin and somehow becomes true. Instead, he holds himself still but for his eyes widening... and it matters little, since what she says next banishes those thoughts anyway.

Ezar has no idea who this "him" was who said those things to Summer, but his opinion is clear: a low, teeth-bared growl, eyes narrowed, tail lashing before he calms himself at her request for stories. He will find out later who this person is, so if he ever meets them, he can remove some delicate portion of their anatomy for saying such a thing to someone that's his.

There isn't enough room in the bathroom for him to simply wrap his people in his wings as he'd like to, and it frustrates him. All he can do is lean down and stretch out one too-long arm so he can rest his hand on Summer's hair, ready to pull away if she finds it troubling.

Though G'raha's story, at least, is quite interesting. His eyebrows go up at the mention of magics of the soul, though he says nothing; any comment would be too revealing. And he does laugh at the thought of G'raha being chased around by a mage's strange familiars. ]

Where did you find such a person?

[ The only place name in it, "Sullen," isn't one he recognizes, but he has little doubt G'raha's more well-traveled than he, for all that he's sailed with the Crimson Fleet. They didn't do magics like that, not in his home village, and he's the only one who's survived it anyway. But he wonders, if there are other people who have gifts similar to the ones they so jealously guarded. Perhaps it doesn't make a difference here, but... he can't help but be curious. ]

Can offer my own silly story. Right after I joined the Crimson Fleet and was out on my first ship, chief told me I was to fetch her three fulms of gig line. Didn't know what gig line was, but you don't ask the chief questions, aye? I got run over the entire fuckin' ship asking where the gig line was and gettin' sent to this person or that person and then up to the crow's nest thrice before the chief found me again and told me it's the line your buttons make down the front of your uniform.

[ He grins. ]

And then she put me on watch for the rest of the run because she said I was so handy climbin' the mast and didn't whine about it, so I got the better end anyway.

[The stories are so absurd, one after another, that it's like the laughter shakes itself free from Summer's chest rather than her having any say over the way it escapes her.]

Oh, I miss Beq Lugg. I think —

[And she almost says you would like, for Ezar's benefit, but then she catches herself. It's such a natural, habitual thing for her to do, drawing connections between one person she knows and another, linking them together like strands in a web. But no. No, she needs to be better about that, and so she catches herself long enough to switch tacks.]

I think they'd find all this business of Manna and Synchrony fascinating, don't you?

[She sniffles, then laughs again. Fumbles blindly for G'raha's hand and weaves their fingers together. Tips her head a little into Ezar's touch. Links them together like this, instead.]

In any case, I don't have any silly stories because I'm always serious about everything. Nothing ridiculous ever happens to me, not even a little bit.

[From her tone of voice, it sounds as though she's gently inviting them to tease and harass her about not participating in kind. Possibly soliciting it, even.]

[ G'raha should, rightly, answer Ezar's question about who Beq-Lugg is, and where they are from. But, perhaps allowing himself the wiggle room, he instead lets him tell the story, and takes the opportunity that Summer invites to dunk in her instead of elaborating on them.

It means he doesn't quite answer her about them finding it fascinating, but he's still moving in step with her - about how much they should explain, on the nature of souls and their sundering, to Ezar.

So his amusement is pushed through the synchrony bond the three of them now share again, instead. ]

Didn't you tell me you once "counseled a yeti couple" to try to figure out their 'marriage'? And it ended in both of them trying to run you off a cliff in Coerthas?

[ Ezar marks again on what is not said, what is avoided. Now doesn't seem to be the time to press the issue, however. But it does make him wonder, yet again, at what is so important, so star-shattering that they feel the need to conceal it from an insignificant dead man while they're all already on a different world--and it's not as if there's anyone he could tell even if he were so inclined. Whatever it is, it doesn't quite carry the same deeply personal air as his own closely-guarded secrets, or he'd be more willing to drop it.

But that's something for later.

He snorts at what G'raha has to offer up, which does indeed sound a lot like Summer. He has few of his own stories to offer in that regard, since he hasn't known her that long, though he drawls: ]

Aye, nothing ridiculous could ever happen to a silly numpty who goes tossing herself off buildings.

Hold, now, I followed you off the building — and the yeti were never going to make amends if someone didn't give them a first push!

[But G'raha's mirth is infectious, and leaches easily into her own, and though the feather-and-gold patterns etched into her skin don't fade, enough of the halo starts to seep away that she almost grows to look like a normal, albeit radiant, person again.]

No, fine, I've one. I once was accidentally crowned warleader of the Xaela tribes of the Azim Steppe. The word they use is khagan. Mostly it was just that I happened to be standing closest to the thing that declared the new khagan, and everyone else around me was too busy to claim it themselves.

[She huffs a soft laugh, under her breath.]

The former khagan was a ridiculous oaf by the name of Magnai who cared only for two things: supremacy over the Azim Steppe, and finding his 'Nhaama'. His tribe believes that they're the children of the sun, and that each of them have a...a soulmate, I suppose. The moon to their sun. Magnai calls the one destined for him "his Nhaama". He thinks that when he meets her, they'll lock eyes and something in their souls will resonate and they'll know instantly that they were made for each other.

[And now, her previous humor turns to outright giggling.]

Poor Magnai. He doesn't stand a chance, with the sorts of women he seems to cross paths with. But regardless — I recall the declaration, but I don't think anyone ever had me hand it over, so...for all I know, I might still be the khagan of the Azim Steppe.

[ G'raha laughs at both of their stories. He enjoys the thought of Ezar running around looking for this 'gig line' that doesn't exist; He has actually heard the story that Summer shares, because the fact that she was Khagan made it into the record books. ]

Magnai - is that the 'little sun' that was occasionally mentioned in your stories?

[ As for Ezar, he looks at him, ears flicking. ]

And somehow I find it hard to believe you were ever anything other than a seasoned sailor. Then again, one might be hard pressed to believe Summer was anything other than a powerful mage, or I a researcher...

[ But he looks back to Summer, tilting his head. ]

... You never told me you jumped off a building here though, dear heart.

[ The thought of Summer being a warleader of anything is a delightfully ridiculous one, and that story also gets a laugh out of Ezar. ]

Aye, I've also sorts of stories of the shit the other sailors done to me when I first signed on. 's fleet tradition.

[ Hmmm, did he maybe get Summer in trouble? Though it sounds like she's in a habit of jumping off buildings in general, which is deeply concerning. Oh well, too late. ]

Only a bloody fool if you try to go followin' a dragoon jumping off anything when you ain't a dragoon yourself. [ He offers G'raha a wry smile. ] Though amethyst let's you fly rather'n just dive, so I suspect she'll be doin' it a lot.

You don't have to be a dragoon to like jumping off things.

[Says the woman whose autobiography has an entire appendix of things she's jumped off before, indexed by height, location, and coolness factor.

But now Ezar's gone and spilled the beans about her early Amethyst activities (or lack thereof), and for all that she might try to play innocent, her ears and tail give her away. Mostly the latter, which goes a little stiff with alarm before flicking nervously, the lion tuft at the tip swaying in the air.]

Ummmm.

[Forget the golden glow to her skin; the pink flush in her cheeks is doing a fine job canceling it out. But quite distinctly, she won't lie, and doesn't; of course, that doesn't leave her much to say otherwise, so.]

I. Thought I had a better handle on my Amethyst magicks than...than it turns out I did. Um, at the time.

I know. I was the one who told her about amethyst's abilities.

[ He says that to Ezar, sounding a bit tired. And then he turns back to Summer. ]

My love.

[ He is still smiling though there's the tiniest crack in it - not anger but worry, the clear mark of someone who is used to fretting over someone else.

Her hand is already in his, so he takes his other hand to cover hers as he leans forwards, ears perked up. Will he be chiding or yelling at her? Nothing so overt. ]

I beg of you, please -

[ A deep breath. ]

- choose shorter buildings when testing your wings.

[ While Ezar might have thrown Summer to the proverbial wolves on this one, there are certain things he's certainly not going to give voice to... like how she'd needed to be rescued, how manna starved she'd been, and how she'd refused to call G'raha in favor of cornering him into synching with her. These things, he estimates, would only cause hurt for no good reason, and he's never been the sort to want to do such a thing, even at his most bitter. ]

Aye, but you best be a dragoon if you want to jump off so many buildings and live to tell about it. [ He grins. ] You'll not be wresting supremacy within the firmament from us. [ It's the one and only thing he's good at, the one thing he takes pride in, and he won't back away from it.

Hells, and in this case, he'll actually side with her. ]

Oh, leave off, G'raha. She's still in one piece and not flat as a pancake. I'll not let anything happen to her in my sky.

[ He grins. ]

Mayhap if she asks nice, I'll teach her to dive.

Our sky.

[So Summer mumbles under her breath, eyes averted and ears drooping, yet even when properly abashed still pathologically unable to let a chance for possessiveness go by without comment.

It doesn't miss her notice, however, the words Ezar chooses — the assertions he makes. I'll not let anything happen to her. And maybe it's just the dragon in him talking, greedy and particular the way he's been since he came over about having his things just so, just as he wants them, but...

But.

He wants to keep her, she decides eventually, more on impulse than out of any sort of rationale — a notion she'll have to go back over and bear out some other time. Whatever else he might think or say or feel compelled to do, something in him wants to be able to say that's mine and believe it. And that, of all things, is an impulse she understands.

But that's a thought for later.]

I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to worry. You know I know how to catch myself, it's just...it was different than using aether to do it. I didn't think it would be as different as it was. I'm sure I could've sorted it out for myself, just — Ezar got to me first.

[She lets out a slow breath of her own.]

But I won't be so careless again. I promise.

You have not had to consider the design of an entire city in the manner of "will she climb up on this, and how high can it be before it's dangerous".

[ This he directs to Ezar, his tails flicking back and forth in clear irritation. As absolutely grumpy as he sounds about it however, it's also clear through the synch that he's very fond of her, regardless of the affected tone.

Her statement, though, has him sighing softly and squeezing her hand again. ]

I know you know how to catch yourself - you were doing it before I met you and well after I left. I would not have you clip your wings for my worry, because I love you for your recklessness. [ His smile comes back, lopsided. ] I simply wish you would consider the height from which you fall when you are learning something.

I have no doubt you're quite set now to leap from any height now, and will keep finding taller and taller buildings to ascend from.

[ His ears flick a little bit, before he looks suddenly shy. ]

I suppose it's silly for me to chide you, when I have done my own dabbling in magics, some under situations where my control is not the finest.

My sky. [ He bares his teeth. ] 'til you've shown me otherwise.

[ Did he just challenge her? Yes. But he's a dragoon. He's not ceding that ground to anyone without good reason. It's one of the few things he does feel is his. The rest he does not feel the need to comment on, uninterested in taking credit for a rescue or anything like that.

Though when she promises to not be so reckless again, he does make his opinion on that known with a loud snort. If he's only known her this long and he knows such a thing is a lie, he'd certainly think G'raha would know better.

At G'raha's mention of designing an entire city, though, he does give voice to his continued annoyance in a very dry tone. ]

An entire city, aye? Or is that another important person thing that's not for the likes of me to know?

[ Because for all their previous insistence about not being that important and the rest of that bullshit, he can certainly tell when topics are being avoided as if he's not privileged to know the information. ]

...It's a story we would both have a hand in telling. Do you want to hear it?

[He all but implied that he does, just now, but — maybe she just wants to get Ezar to say it. To ask for it. To keep him included, as the person who sought out the tale, so that it's not just herself and G'raha reminiscing about old memories that Ezar isn't a part of.]

How Raha built a city for me so that I would come to love it, and do anything to protect it? Between the two of us, I think we can make it an entertaining one.

[She pauses.]

It...would lend a little clarity to why it frightens me to look like this. What was happening to me. I told you, remember? About my aether. It has to do with that as well.

It's not that we cannot tell you. It's that to tell the things we experienced to normal people usually upsets them.

[ But here, G'raha Tia with his too-long ears and many tails looks at Ezar, expression contemplative. ]

But you have seen anything other than normal before, have you not? Tis a tale with no clear villain or hero. If anything, it is one of being selfish.

[ He closes his eyes, for a moment. ]

There should be few secrets between us though, I think. If we are yours.

'course I want to hear these stories. [ He's grumbling, though it's about half for show. After Summer and G'raha both assiduously avoiding telling him such things before, he has to wonder what has changed.

Though the way she puts it, G'raha building an entire city for her... well, that's a lot of implication. Obviously he already knew they were mates and the like, but... well, damn.

His lips twitch to a humorless smile at G'raha saying such stories upset people. ]

Don't have much left to be scared or upset about.

[ It's something he's said to Summer several times, though not, he supposes, to G'raha. But, with nothing to go back to but, he supposes, the aetherial sea even if he were returned to Eorzea... what really matters anymore? What could G'raha even tell him that would be more upsetting than what the Calamity had done to his entire village in an instant? Than his own worthless death?

Fucking nothing, basically.

His ears flick back at the question, though. ]

"Normal" 's a funny word. Means a lot of different things.

[ Cautious, still. Always cautious. He's not sure what G'raha's asking, what the man knows. What has made him decide that there should be fewer secrets, what that even means.

But it's that last, that If we are yours, which leaves him speechless, staring at G'raha wide-eyed. The part of him that is dragon--quite a lot of him at the moment--smiles internally with smug, warm satisfaction. Damn right the both of you are.

But he is not wholly the dragon, and the part of him that is Ezar feels the same like a cold shock, alarm and fear and confusion and... hope, perhaps. What keeps him from simply fleeing the bathroom in a furtive instant is a combination of the dragon's weight and his own disbelief that surely, he cannot mean it like that, I am misunderstanding. Still, he draws his hand back from Summer like he's been burned before he freezes up entirely, fighting duel desires to curl in protectively on himself and curl around the both of them.

It's the dragon that choose the words; it's Ezar that turns them from firm statement to soft question. ]

You are?

[ In truth G'raha says it without thinking, the playfulness of the vulpine side spilling out as he speaks. But it is not a lie that he spoke it at all. Instead, he remembers too late how Ezar doesn't seem to want to be a part of any one or any thing - and his worry is struck true when Ezar draws back from the Synch.

He doesn't leave, though, and instead looks at them, G'raha thinking he looks almost wounded, before he speaks again. Though G'raha has been resting in the bath up until this point, he finally moves to step out, his movements careful and deliberate. ]

If you would have us.

[ After a moment he looks to Summer, who is sitting on the floor still, his head tilting a little bit. ]

No one is an object, or something to be controlled. But Summer and I care for each other. And once... she fought a man who would have killed me, and her, for touching me at all. And it is perhaps not untrue to say I fought time itself to save her.

[ He looks back to Ezar. ]

I did it because I cared about her. I did not even know if she loved me at all, but I knew I could not go on without her. Which is not to say you must welcome gestures as grand as that, but that... I know I care for you. That I already find myself worrying for you as I worry for her, when she leaps from towers.

So we could be yours. We do not have to be, but I would welcome it all the same.

Edited 2022-06-27 23:42 (UTC)

[Her instinct is, as ever, to chase after Ezar's hand when he draws it away — always, always seeking connection where she can get it — but she lets him have his space instead, and stays quiet while G'raha makes his gentle case.

She's not a better orator than he is. She's far from a better leader. But there are things she can add to what he says, she thinks — and if there's one thing that has always been true, it's that they're better when they work in tandem than either of them could be separately.]

What if I told you that I want to be wanted? I want to be surrounded by people so determined to keep me safe that I never have to feel afraid. I want to be more than an arm or a boot to someone — I want to be the air they breathe.

[It's her turn to glance up at G'raha, still from her place on the floor; as he stands near her, the nearest way of offering affection is to brush her hand up the outside of his thigh, and she does.]

And I want Raha to never be alone again. I want him to be so loved that he couldn't hope to forget it if he tried. I want him to have everything he could ever possibly dream of and more, because he can't help but give of himself and it's well past time he gets as good as he gives.

[Gradually, at length, she looks to Ezar.]

I think that's what you want, too. You want to make sure nothing ever hurts me. And you want to make Raha happy. But that's only what I think, and I'm not about to speak for you.

Now you know what I want. So. Will you tell us what you want?

[ It's so much, all at once. After death, after coming to this place, it's already been so much for him to have a friend, then more than one friend, then to have anyone outside his own head know anything about him, let alone several. It's so much, to go from those tentative, stumbling steps of trying to figure out how to connect with other people after a decade of complete self-isolation to having two people speak to him so. To go from nothing but exhausted, depressed numbness and constant fear to... this.

It's too much. Too many emotions to sort out or understand all at once. With a soft gasp he does fold in on himself, face pressed against his knees, arms wrapped protectively over his head, a ridiculously childish posture for a grown man, let alone one who's currently seven fulms tall and half dragon. He can feel himself shaking again, and he can't seem to stop it, another deeply embarrassing thing. Yet it is a sign of trust, however unwitting, that he reacts to feeling so disoriented and frightened not by lashing out in anger, which has always been his defensive habit, but by letting his fear be seen.

At least from the dark safety of hiding behind his own wings, he can attempt to speak. His voice is muffled, small, his adopted accent shattered and scattered from his control and he's so overwrought he doesn't even notice. ]

I don't know. I don't know what I want. [ He makes a small, despairing sound that might be a laugh turned on its side. ] I spent so much time trying not to want anything because it's--it's dangerous to want things.

I'm sorry. [ He's not even certain what he's apologizing for, but he feels he ought to again, for what he can only assume is another moment of disappointing others that he desperately wishes to not disappoint. ] I'm sorry. I don't want anything to ever hurt either of you and I want you to be happy--and I'm sorry.

[ Were they not all so dramatic, G'raha could have simply said that yes, they could be Ezar's. That perhaps they should try having a meal together, instead of promising tales of time undone and cities built. But he had not, and so this is his responsibility.

He moves first, careful, stepping into the small space Ezar has made with his wings. He still has Summer's hand on his thigh. This time, he gently places his hand nearby Ezar's foot.

He's careful, for now, not to touch him. He knows how overwhelming Synchrony can be and so he lets Ezar have the privacy of his thoughts and feelings, but leaves the offer of his hand if Ezar needs it. ]

Shh. It's okay.

[ He gives a soft laugh, his voice as even as he can make it. ]

There is nothing for you to apologize for. Not having an answer is certainly not one either.

Instead... I would be happy to find out if it is something you want? Something we can discover together. It need not be more complicated than that.

[ Since he is now the one between Ezar and Summer, he uses his other hand to reach down, curling his fingers into Summer's. ]

[How things come full circle. How it wasn't so long ago at all that she was the one coming apart, and he the one determined to hold her together.]

Breathe, love.

[And so she echoes his own words back at him, trusting that he'll remember. Peace, and caring, and protectiveness, and warmth.]

Let it be an adventure, then. One you're accompanying us on. And like Raha says, we'll all find out together.

[It takes no thought at all to weave her fingers through G'raha's. It never has, not since she found him again, not since so many things have tried to take him away no matter how tightly she holds on.]

Let us tell you a story. And then, when it's done, we can all start writing the next.

[ Summer bids him to breathe and he does, pathetically grateful for one thing he can do that is simple and not so emotionally loaded. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and breathes like his was taught to do so many years ago, breathing the world in and himself out until his borders become less distinct and his distress seems small in comparison to the vast sea of life around him.

It isn't that it doesn't matter, but it's comforting to know that the world doesn't feel as easily, foolishly fragile as he does. It allows the tremors to work themselves from his shoulders and hands until he is still, and breathing, and not at peace, exactly, but no longer completely overwhelmed.

He relaxes slowly, one muscle at a time, until he lets his arms drop down, until he brushes his fingers hesitantly over G'raha's hand. Already so poorly controlled, the synch is instinctive, as is the soft outflow of aether, for once seeking rather than offering comfort. The dregs of his panic still flutter through him, but he is listening, breathing, attempting to simply be instead of tying himself in knots. ]

Sorry. [ He knows G'raha said not to apologize, but he still feels he ought to, from behind the shield of his knees. ] I don't know how...

[ He turns his head just enough to look at Summer, peering at her from under the mess that's become of his hair.

It had already felt like such an enormous step, to him, when they'd been on the island, when he'd sat with G'raha and Summer in that hut after willingly speaking even one of his lesser secrets to him. That he'd cried on Summer's shoulder. That he'd been bold enough to intrude on their sleep. In a way, it's good to have it affirmed that those things were welcome. To have it affirmed again, in what he picks up empathically by either connection, that this is no lie nor trick, that there is genuine affection (is that the right word for it?) of a sort he's not felt directed toward him before.

It's also fucking terrifying, like he edged one step forward into what he thought was a pond and suddenly found himself in water up to his cheekbones. And... mortifying, to find himself caught to off guard, so far behind, so ignorant of how to interact with others while he's still trying to even sort out if he should, if he could.

But an adventure, perhaps, as Summer said. A journey. He'd once wanted that, desperately, so much that he'd left his home behind for it, to everyone's detriment. Perhaps this sort of thing will end in a similarly soul-shattering disaster. But he still longs for it, still feels that secret heart urge him yes.

And every adventure starts with a single step, and that isn't so terrible, is it? ]

Please, just one step at a time. Please.

Edited 2022-06-28 04:38 (UTC)

One step at a time. I promise.

[ It is a promise to both Ezar and a reminder to himself that he should be more patient, that he should pick his words with more care. Lyna would shake her head at him to see him being so dramatic again, he knows she would.

The synch is, of course, easy to share his feelings with. He projects warmth and understanding, showing Ezar that he's not hurt at all by anything he's said. And there's a tinge of apology as well, for the fact that he did not pace himself.

He squeezes both their hands - Summer and Ezar's - again, his tails flicking behind him, much like his tail would when it is happy.

He lets Ezar have some time to breathe before he speaks again, his tone deceptively light again. ]

Would you still like to hear our story? I meant what I said - tis no maliciousness that kept it from you before.

[The mug of water he'd brought for her earlier is still around somewhere; it takes Summer a second to track down where she'd abandoned it, but when she does she retrieves it and eases herself up from the floor to go refill it with cold water from the kitchen sink tap. This, too, brings something full circle: he'd fetched it in to help soothe and calm her, and when she rejoins them she returns it to him, taking Ezar's free hand and pressing the mug against his palm, carefully guiding each of his clawed fingers to curl around it until he's got it snugly held.]

Or. If it's too much to make decisions right now, then you needn't. If you'd rather I decide for you, I will.

[She'd had to drop G'raha's hand in order to see to the water; now that she's back on her feet, she gravitates back to his side, this time leaning up against his shoulder by way of making contact. Present, but giving Ezar his space.]

Shall I? All you have to say is yes or no.

Edited 2022-06-28 16:29 (UTC)

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