There she rests upon the edge of the fountain, a hand idly trailing ripples through the surface under an unfocused gaze. How strange - this castle was what so many knew to be her “true” home, yet it could not feel more like anything but. Fate’s cruel hand had returned her to the prison of her childhood, and what a conundrum it had placed in her path: to fight alongside the hero who she knows in her heart is destined to save this world alongside her at the expense of losing the family she had come to love, perhaps forever. And after a betrayal like this, perhaps she would not be missed.
She was prepared, or so she told herself, to save this world by any means necessary, to face Ryōma, or Hinoka, or Takumi, or even dear Sakura in combat for the greater good. Anything to bring resolution to the lost souls of her homeland. Anything to allow her mother to find peace in the afterlife.
But her heart felt oh, so heavy.
And when the very hero who’d come to occupy her thoughts so often of the late sets foot in the courtyard, her gaze does not shift for a thoughtful moment, two, three—- ` So rare is a moment of peace amidst the chaos of this war. ` She shifts to offer a silent greeting and pats the ledge next to her in invitation.
` Won’t you sit with me? `
never had the royal stone of castles appealed to her much, too uninviting, restricted. at times, the darkness, the icy touch of cement unsettled her ; there, she would cling to the infrequent tiles of carpet, leaping for the safety of her uncovered soles. memories faded, atrophied from use as more pressing matters in the present drew her gaze, but the times in the fortress were not all terrible - at least, from what she could remember through the coloration of nostalgia.
❝ yes, of course. i’ve been meaning to speak with you, actually. ❞ the last word a mere accent, frivolous, and she was sure that the songstress knew so as well. be it their shared experiences, sheltered and weaponized, or the chained pain linking the two down this fire - stricken path, there was a sanctuary of warmth, care she found a home within.
however, when one’s home lived in the midst of a rib - cage, pillared by bones instead of concrete, there was the ever - present fear of losing one’s home.
❝ you seem so distant. er, more so than usual. ❞ despite the misstep, her own words trail off into sea foam, brimming at the mouth of a shoreline. for her talents in song and dance, with a grace as deadly, lethal as her lance, only her sight truly incited a spark of fear from within. azura, a living oracle, carrying stained glass lungs, held a future that one could shy away from for only so long. ❝ is there something the matter? ❞
