adelphoi | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ never before has alisaie so deeply, keenly known what it is to feel bittersweet.

arriving on hydaelyn again, surrounded by the familiar walls of the rising stones, eorzea's peoples and lands safe, restored, full - is it not what she had dreamt of since first she awoke in that icy pod? since she looked out over a wide vista of stars and attempted to process the fact that her home was gone? mourning an entire world had been a monumental effort, and when the news had come that their homes could yet be salvaged she had never been more relieved.

that relief, of course, had been soon followed by a sweeping despair. they were to return home, and only home, the natha had a duty to fulfill, to see to it that everything was restored exactly as it was, no exception, no compromise. for the greater good, they had insisted, and alisaie's heart had broken clean in two. she had made so many connections, so many close friends, she had carved a life out for herself on el nysa and -

- and prompto. to lose him forever was an ache she could not bear. she had already lost so much, so many, and to lose him.. of course she fought. she railed and shouted herself hoarse, she petitioned the natha again and again, begged, but they would not be moved. and so she was home again, surrounded by familiar walls and familiar friends, but on her clothing she could still smell prompto's skin, the sensation of his last kiss clinging to her mouth like a ghost.

a week of stunned grieving was all she allowed herself, but alisaie would not be defeated. traveling to other worlds.. it is possible, she has seen it done. the ascians, the warriors of the first - all had traveled between the planes, and alisaie was entirely certain, with all of her heart, that his eos was one of the many echoes, the worlds connected to her own by the sundering of the mothercrystal. prompto was gone and yet he still somehow felt so very close, just out of reach of her touch, her voice, her heart.

the pregnancy, of course, had been.. entirely unexpected. the natha had rendered them sterile, but she can only assume that they had reversed it some time before their restoration of their homes, long enough for him to quicken within her womb and leave her with a soul to remember him by, a sweet child with her own dark eyes and prompto's fair hair, and smile, and laugh that breaks her heart to hear. but gods she loves him, this little sunshine boy who thrives on touch and love, who sleeps well and smiles often and gives her the extra drive she needs to work, to finish, to find the way to drive open the doorway between their worlds. it is unstable, and unable to linger for long, it is entirely possible that this is a one-way trip, that she will never be able to find her way back, and that is all that stalls her. prompto is her heart, her husband, the mother of her child - but hydaelyn is her home, her family is here, and the thought of leaving her brother behind forever, leaving urianger, and the scions..

gods, it is nearly enough to unmake her, to convince her to abandon her work.

but they remind her, all of them, that prompto too is her family, that their child deserves to know his father, that if she does not make this step she will never see him again. she will.. simply have to do it again, to find a way to keep the doorway open. and if she has not, at least she has said her goodbyes, she has made her peace, and decided what it is that she needs.

and so that is what brings her here at last, to eos, where the air is thick with darkness, where the aether is in upheaval. gods, this is the home he had returned to? this is where he has been? the atmosphere is heady and oppressive, the roads swarmed with terrible daemons. she had made the right decision.

finding him, however, was much more difficult. finding her way to a well lit station had been difficult enough in a foreign world, and she had learned quickly to arrange her hair to cover her ears, avoiding questions she does not have the time to answer. but soon enough she had learned of him, where he was, and how to arrive there - to a city called lestallum, the last great bastion against the doom hovering on the horizon.

alisaie's heart is pounding when she arrives before the worn wooden door, in a narrow staircase with yellow walls, the paint peeling and the light harsh. she's ruffled and dusty with travel, exhausted and anxious, smelling of sweat and chocobo but once she had arrived in the city she could not bring herself to wait another second before searching him out, finding him. hefting the sleeping child higher on her hip, alisaie presses a kiss to his pale blonde head, taking a deep, stilling breath.

and she knocks. ]

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[ It's been three years, two months, and sixteen days.

He knows, because he counts, each and every day that passes since his return to Eos. Three years, two months, and sixteen days, since the Natha had sent them back. When they'd first heard, it had seemed such an impossible joy, that their worlds could be restored from the Storm, that they could have their homes back. A miracle, they'd even hailed it, but such a gift could not come without a price. He'd been willing to give up almost anything to get his home back, to restore the land that he loved, as dark as it had become in his final moments there. Yet there was one price too high, one demand he would not give into. One final goodbye that would cost him the entirety of his heart.

In his darker moments of despair, he'd wondered if this wasn't how it was always meant to be. It had always been beyond wonderful that he, of all people, had been able to find love, that he'd found her. Alisaie. That she'd loved him, with her fiery conviction, her fierce loyalty and unbridled passion, her laughter and her tears and her wonderful mind. It had always seemed too good to be true, an impossible thing he could never hope to hold onto forever. But that did not mean he'd gone quietly - no. Impossible as it was, unworthy of it as he might have felt, he fought, too. He fought for this thing that had made him better, that had healed him and built him up and made him feel, more than anything else in his life, like he was worth something real. He'd begged and pleaded, he'd refused to accept it, blindly believed that somehow things could work out and they could go home together. That this life after death that they'd found with each other wouldn't have to end. But the Natha, in the supposed infinite wisdom, had severed them, all the same, spared them the choice of having to choose which world to return to. All things in their proper place, except even then that isn't entirely what they got, because when they'd been pulled apart from their last embrace, their final kiss, their mingled tears, all the words he desperately needed to say clogging his throat, he'd left his heart with her.

And then...he was back in Eos. It's funny, isn't it? He had changed so completely since he had left this place, but Eos hadn't. It still needed the Crownsguard, even as the world died around them. Noctis had still disappeared. The sun had still vanished. Daemons still ransacked the land. The people still cowered in darkness, still cursed their king that had abandoned them in their most desperate hour. There are no Elezens here. No Eorzea. There is only the Starscourge, the remnants of the world Eos had once been, and her people, fighting desperately to hang on in hopes of a brighter future. Combating the daemons keeps him busy, gives him a much-needed job to do. He lets his work occupy him, lets it drown out everything else, because when it does not, the grief is almost unbearable.

And yet, despite their distance, he'd never stopped hoping, as foolishly futile as it was. But while he'd always had such a remarkable propensity for hope, this wasn't the good, uplifting kind of hope that warms like a flame and kept him going at the worst of times. It was a kind of hope built on habit, on an unwillingness to let her go despite the impossibility facing them. If he ever bothered to talk about it with anyone - and isn't that just such a disservice? that he could never find the words to describe her, to tell the story of the woman he loves, his wife, lost to him a world away - he's sure they'd tell him to move on, to accept the inevitability that he would never see her again. And yet, he can not. He is unable to accept that as his reality, and so he sees her, a shadow. A braid whipping around corners, the sound of her low, warm laugh on the wind, her warmth pressed against him when he sleeps alone on the road. Unlike her, he doesn't have the magical means to hope that he could travel to Eorzea to find her, but in some ways, perhaps that's a mercy, because the choice between finding her and abandoning the Crownsguard would tear him apart. But all the same, it leaves his hope unfounded, because with things as bleak as they are, how could he ever think he might see her again? He won't. He won't.

...Some nights, if it weren't for the wrinkled photographs that were already fading all too quickly, the ones that he'd hold to his heart so tightly as if they could fill the hole there, that reminded him of what love was and why he needed to keep fighting for this world, he might have thought it all a dream. What would she say, if she could see him now? How miserable he is, in these quiet moments by himself? Hadn't he once promised her he would be happy for the rest of his life, just because he'd met her? What an amazing joke that was. He owed her memory better than this gripping despair, and yet...he can't find it within himself to be happy. Maybe in fleeting moments, but not truly.

It's been three years, two months, and sixteen days. Since he'd taken his last photograph. Since he'd left his heart with her.

Prompto hasn't been in Lestallum more than two days, and he plans to depart the next morning. A nasty patch of naga have cropped up near Cauthess, and he's overstayed his welcome, in any case. The knock at his door is unexpected, and immediately has him on edge. He doesn't receive visitors, because he doesn't keep close contacts, save for Ignis and Gladio, and even with them, their communications could be few and far between. For as much as Lestallum was the last bastion against the Starscourge, it didn't welcome him, and it certainly wasn't home. A necessary stop from time to time, to trade information and gather supplies, an occasional rendezvous point with the others. The Lucians besmirched their king, and his retainers weren't any more popular. Prompto would never belong here. But then again, he'd never really felt like he'd belonged much of anywhere, save for one, very special place.

Still, even if he might be met by the drunk complainer of the evening who managed to track down where he's staying tonight, Prompto shuffles to answer it. He doesn't bother to summon his weapon - daemons don't knock - and besides, he can hazard a guess as to what this might be about.

His voice carries through the door, before he even starts to unlock it and pull it open. ]

Vex, you're killin' me! If this is you askin' me about your whole propaganda gig, I already told you ten times, I -

[ The words shrivel and die on his tongue as time freezes around him, an eternity contained in that moment his eyes meet hers. His knees give, and he catches himself on the door frame before he can collapse in a heap before the her, before this impossibility.

N-no. No. This...can't be right. This can't be real. He's fallen asleep upstairs, and he's dreaming, as he so often does, of her coming to him. But as much as it hurts, as much as his chest squeezes and his breath stalls painfully in his throat, he makes no move to rouse himself from his impossible dream. To end this. Because these moments are the only ones in which they are still allowed to be together. This time, she has a child with her, though this one is far more vivid than the ones that usually appear in his dreams. A cruel touch of his subconscious that fills his eyes with tears, that taunts him so clearly with what could have been. And yet, he will not look away. He will not allow himself to wake.

He's forgotten how to breathe, how to move, but somehow, he manages to reach out, his hand trembling, to caress her cheek, fingertips glancing over her skin.

He'd forgotten how soft and warm she is. ]

[ before he even opens the door her heart is strangled. she can hear his voice, muffled and sharp though it is through the door, familiar as an old dream, a phantom, a memory. is she ready for this? will she be able to handle it? will she be able to keep on her feet?

mayhaps she should have allowed destiny to run its course. they were from different worlds, the time they had together was a blessing, but unnatural. they should never have existed in the same world, this may have been a mistake, trying to salvage something that should no longer be, to breathe life into a thing long dead.

but when she sees him, when that door opens and his eyes find hers, beautiful clear blue that she could never forget - she knows that she is wrong. this was not a mistake, it could never be a mistake, and even if it feels as if the ground is dropping out from beneath her she still cannot regret, she cannot imagine anything better, or more natural and right than the brush of his fingers against her face. alisaie has never put much stock in destiny, after all.

alisaie's breath rushes from her lungs in a gust, her eyes flickering closed as she turns her face against his palm. it feels a little rougher, a little more callused than she remembers but still warm, still the same shape of the hands that had held and touched her what feels like a lifetime ago.

it is only the weight of the child against her that keeps her on her feet, sturdy and holding tightly to him, but she's trembling lightly, hot tears pricking her eyes, her entire chest tightening like a fist has closed around it. she has no idea what to say, and truthfully, mayhaps there isn't anything at all to say, no need for words to sully the moment.

so she nuzzles gently into his palm, reveling in the scent of his skin that is still somehow the same, exactly as she remembers it, and it rouses all that warm memory, every touch and smile and laugh, every wonderful thing they experienced together. ]

Prompto..

[ she whispers at last, her tears rolling soft and silently over his fingers, before at last she cracks her eyes open again to find his. gods, she is so tired.. ]

[ She may have the child to keep her on her feet, but the same can't be said for him, and as she turns her head to nuzzle against his palm, her warm tears spilling over his fingers, her wonderful voice saying his name in a way he hasn't heard in so, so long, his knees fold, and he sinks to the doorstep in front of her.

It all feels...so very real. Her warmth, her sweet voice, the sight and the smell and the feel of her, that it gives his hear the barest of hopes that maybe, beyond the realm of possibility, she really is here. Maybe it's more then the ghost he stubbornly refuses to give up. Maybe it's what he's been waiting for since the moment the separated, what he'd been too afraid to believe would ever truly come to pass.

And yet, here she is. On his doorstep, in Lestallum, in Eos, three years, two months, and sixteen days later, and a warmth seeps into his chest that he hasn't felt in so very, very long.

His arms come up to wind around her, to pull her near desperately and cling to her like his very life depends on it, and it very well may, from how this moment seems as if it could make or break him. He pulls her close, brow pressed near her navel, near the leg and tiny foot of the small, warm bundle she carries on her hip. He can't begin to comprehend it, when he can barely comprehend her presence here, but that warmth feels like one he has known his entire life. Like one he wants to hold close and protect and love unconditionally, no matter the consequence.

Tears flow freely and seep into her clothing, his whole being trembling with the weight of this reunion they stand on the precipice of. Yet the sobs that wrack him are not grief-filled ones that have occupied him so frequently over these long years. They're something cleaner, purer, born of love and hope and a long forgotten happiness and warmth. ]

Don't wake me up. Please, gods, don't wake me up.

[ Let him dream, and lose himself to this dream forever. ]

[ prompto sinks down before her and it is as a knife twisting in her heart, a reminder of the time lost between them, the ache in her breast every night spent alone in her bed, every morning she woke and rolled to the side to hold to someone who was not there.

but he is here now, she is here, worn and exhausted from three years nonstop work, from the energy it took to come to this world, to scour it for him. it is done now, and every hard, painful, frustrating second was worth it.

for a long while, alisaie simply allows them both to experience this moment, to stand in the pregnant silence with only the sound of their hiccuped breaths to fill the space. her free hand winds carefully into his hair, still as soft as she'd remembered, and alisaie closes her eyes, feeling his arms around her, feeling his presence.

but her knees are weak and her arms ache from carrying the boy, and so alisaie soon sinks carefully down onto her knees as well, shifting the toddler in her arms, at which point he finally stirs, blinking blearily. it's been a tiring journey for the little monster as well, but he can sleep through only so much movement; twisting in her grasp, one of his small hands reaches to grasp curiously at prompto's collar. alisaie hiccups a soft laugh, dipping her head to touch her brow to prompto's. ]

'Tis no dream, dearheart. I am here. We all are here.

[ exhaling hard, her mouth curves into a tremulous smile, her eyes dropping to the groggy babe between them, her voice rough and tight with fatigue and emotion both. ]

This is Louisoix. Your.. your son.

[ gods, but does it feel good to say those words aloud. ]

[ She tells him it is no dream, and gods, he wants so badly for that to be true. For her to really be here, warm and trembling, still fitting just so in his arms, would be nothing short of a miracle. A moment to turn back the tide of grief that had oppressed him for their long years apart. For all he'd been unable to accept their distance, a quiet part of his heart had accepted that they would never see each other again. But that part of him had been wrong, so wonderfully wrong, and he couldn't weep long enough to express his gratitude for that fact.

At last she's kneeling down with him, shifting the child in her arms between them, and Prompto's eyes snap to him as his tiny fingers work their way around his collar. He can see it in his wonderful, perfect face before she tells him. He'd always had a keen sense for features, and he has memorized hers intimately, ingrained into his memory. The boy has her dark eyes, her small, curved nose. But he has a shock of pale, blonde hair, and a smile to match his own. He sees the proof there, right in front of him, but this too must be impossible. No matter how badly they'd wanted it, the Natha had made them sterile, and while they had had each other, the family the longed to build together was out of their reach. Then again, he's already witnessed one miracle tonight; why not another?

And then she says those wonderful, wonderful words to him, and he sucks in a shuddering breath that wracks his whole body.

This boy. His...son. His Louisoix.

A sob breaks him again and a raw, joyful grin splits his face as he draws back a hand to smooth it over the toddler's hair. Where it had been absent only minutes before, love and affection pour out of Prompto in gushing waves, and he laughs, really, truly laughs for what feels like the first time in a lifetime.

At some point, he'll ask how. He'll want to hear it all, the fullness of what had happened to her after they'd been sent their separate ways. He'll want to know every moment of it, her pregnancy, the birth, the firsts - and oh, how that glancing thought aches, that he was not there for so many important and precious things. But for now, he holds them, and presses a soft kiss to Louisoix's forehead. ]

Hi, Louisois. I-It's - it's me. Y-your - y - your - dad.

[ He's a father. ]

[ it is a tender, heartbreaking moment, the two of them curled toward each other at the top of this dingy, poorly-lit stairwell, together as they should be, a family at last.

of course prompto's reaction is no surprise, and to see that joyous grin split his face is almost too much for her heart to bear. it is what they had always wanted, the family they had longed to build, the children they had ached for but were never allowed to have. though a part of her heart will ever remain in hydaelyn, alisaie feels more full and complete than she has in years, like the shards of something broken within her are finally gathering themselves back together again.

da, the boy echoes matter-of-factly, tugging at prompto's collar, clearly interested in the texture of the fabric, his small freckled nose wrinkling. everything here is so very different from what he's used to. with a tearful laugh, she props him up a little more fully on her lap. he is still rather 'young' for his age, over two years old but still small, not quite so far along cognitively due to his elezen blood - he will live longer than the average hyur, and therefore age more slowly. but in this case it is perhaps a blessing, prompto will not miss every important milestone. ]

You can.. hold him, if you like.

[ His hands are aching to hold the boy before Alisaie suggests it, and he's all too eager to scoop Louisoix up in his arms and hold him tightly against him, warm and soft and impossible as his little miracle is. Prompto holds him so very tenderly, one hand cradling the back of his head like he's the most precious thing he's ever held in his hands, because he is.

He can't help the way his tears still fall and his shoulders bounce, but his sobs are silent now, instead replaced by the gentlest words he can find, to usher all the things he's never been able to say to his son now. He may be too young to understand most of it, but it's not the words so much as the way he says them that matters the most. ]

I love you, and I'm so, so sorry I haven't been there, but we're together now. We all are. I'm going to make it up to you. I promise, my s-sweet, beautiful boy...daddy's here now.

[ And he's never letting go of them again.

His eyes flicker up to meet Alisaie's once more. They should...get out of the doorway. It's not tremendously safe, and their reunion had pushed aside his better judgment for a time. But gods, he has so much to say, so much to do, that even a thing as simple as moving inside the house seems as if it would take too much time away from this moment. ]

I-I never...I never stopped...

[ Never stopped hoping for this impossible moment to come. ]

[ the boy does't fuss, doesn't draw back in fear, only raises his little arms with a gurgling laugh. from the first, he has loved to be held, and alisaie had been so terrified in the beginning - what could she know about motherhood? of course they'd talked about it before, they had wanted children, but to be faced with is so suddenly had been petrifying. her relationship with her parents had been strained at best, and she had been so afraid that she could not possibly be enough, that she is not warm enough, that she is too distant, too stony to ever be able to give him the love he requires.

but she had not been alone. louisoix was brought into a world full of people ready to love him, alphinaud and urianger ever by her side, and the scions all, every one of them delighted and happy to work with him, to hold him and kiss him and love him. he had been blessed with family, both of them had, and so he is quite used to being held by many hands, he is warm and trusting and sweet just like his father. but still it fills her heart to bursting to see them together, to watch prompto hold him close.

it's like a dream. surreal in its perfection.

when prompto's eyes meet hers again they are tearful and red, but her smile is genuine, weary, relieved, content. she reaches to gently brush the hair from his eyes, her knuckles skating down the curve of his cheek, the ring she still wears catching in the light. ]

I know.

[ it was all the more reason she had worked. prompto, for his many talents, could not have found the way to breach the gap, it had been up to her to find him again, but even still their hearts were ever connected across time and space, between planes. nothing could keep them apart forever. ]

[ He leans into her touch, following the drag of her fingers across his skin with the tilt of his head, unwilling to relinquish that contact once it's regained. She still wears her ring, and his chest tightens at the sight of it. He still wears his, too, of course. Doing otherwise would have felt like a betrayal, a lie, even if it earned him questions or the odd look. Where was the wife that he pined for?

But she is right here with him now, their child in his arms, and he could want for nothing more in the world in that moment.

Still clutching Louisoix close with one strong arm, he lifts his hand to curl around hers, to keep her fingers pressed to his cheek. ]

I love you, I love you -

[ And he'll say it to her for every day he was unable to, pressing a warm kiss to her palm. ]

[ those words - how long has it been since she has heard them in his voice? how long has she been waiting for them, aching for them? a warm fist closes around her heart. ]

I love you, too.

[ she whispers, leaning in at last to rub her nose alongside his, to dip in and find his mouth with hers, kissing him soft but sure and gods it feels the same as she remembers. the texture of his lips, the scent of his skin, the feel of him so near.. like a memory made manifest. her fingertips dip into his hair, her stinging eyes closed -

- at least until a tiny fist closes around her braid and tugs, and she's breaking into a laugh against his mouth. ]

Mayhaps we should.. move inside.

[ It all comes back so quickly. The shape of her mouth, the way her lips move against him, her smell and her taste and gods he'd thought he remembered how good this was, but he was so, so very wrong. Her kiss is so much more than he could have ever hoped to hold in memory alone. He's eager for it, hungry to lose himself in it, but practicality calls in the form of the child snug between them, and his lips tug into a smile.

He's smiled more in these past few minutes that he has for the past three years combined. ]

Mayhaps we should. [ Much as he hates the idea of moving even a fraction of an inch away from her, this really isn't the place they should be doing this, and so after another moment of just breathing her in, Prompto draws himself up onto his feet once more, arm snug around Louisoix still as he winds the other around Alisaie's shoulders. Abandoning contact entirely is asking far too much right now.

There's so much he wants to ask, but he holds off for now, until the door clicks shut behind them and they're all warm and safe together inside this place that suddenly feels far more like home than anything has for a very long time. ]

[ of course it comes as no surprise that prompto cannot help but keep his hands on her. this was premeditated on her part, but for him it must have been as shocking as a blow to the head, and she cannot blame him for worrying that it is all a dream, that it may evaporate at any time. his touch is ever and always welcome.

much as her legs and feet ache, it still feels good to close that door behind them, to have a space for themselves, private and quiet and alonem though worn as the fixtures are, it does not look lived in. it looks occupied, but it lacks the homey touch, it does not have his signature. she has no idea if this is where he lives, or where he's simply staying - she knows nothing about his existence here, but for now that does not matter. they're together, at long last. all three of them.

but first thing's first, alisaie shrugs off the heavy bag she's been carrying and sets it onto the nearest available surface with a soft sigh of relief, reaching to rub the back of her neck. tough as she is, she's not very large, and carrying a child and a bag packed with things to keep that child (and herself) alive for a long journey via chocobo is not terribly comfortable.

still, she can't keep the smile off of her face, discomfort or no. ]

I'm surprised he is not fussing, he's surely hungry.

[ unsurprisingly, this child is a bottomless pit of food consumption. ]

[ That earns another unlikely laugh from him, hand working for a moment along her shoulders as she sets her heavy load down. She's right in her assessment of this place - it's only a stop between journeys, not a residence, and he's stayed in dozens of different ones over the years. It didn't feel right to settle anywhere, to put down roots. It probably wouldn't have even if the world weren't in ruin. However, as he ushers her towards the small living room, he finds himself wishing he had a homier space to invite them into. To be together as a family.

But this place will have to do for now, and Prompto bounces Louisoix in his arms and lavishes eskimo kisses on him. Unsurprisingly, he's immediately taken to fatherhood, to doting upon this child he always dreamed of. The attention earns Prompto a tinkling laugh, and the sound alone is enough to renew the tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.

He loves this boy. He loves his wife. He loves this moment, the quiet reality of it, confirming to him that perhaps this really isn't a dream. ]

Attaboy, Louie... [ The child grabs for his nose, and Prompto kisses his tiny wrist, and then his small, pointed ears. ]

Can we feed him? Together?

[ He wants to do anything and everything together with her. ]

[ it's lovely to watch, to see him lavish the boy with kisses and praise, already loving him so completely, so fully, though it has yet been even a bell since they have met. but of course, it comes as no surprise. prompto is the warmest person she has ever known, with a heart so full of love it's a wonder he can still carry it - he was meant for this, for family, for loving others, a trait it seems he has passed on to his son, to her everlasting relief. the world needs more like them, sunny smiles and gentle hearts. ]

Of course you can.

[ u wanna breastfeed him prompto?? good luck..

but no, she's opening up her bag to pull out a few things - a small glass sippy cup, and several little jars of food. most are filled with half-smashed fruit and vegetables, some carrot sticks and diced rolanberries, but she lifts another that looks like smushed spaghetti. because it is. ]

This is his favorite.

[ His heart squeezes again as Alisaie starts to unpack her bag. Though he'd always known her capable of it, Prompto has never seen her in this role of a mother before. Yet she's so attuned to her child's needs and habits, prepared food for him for this journey that brought them to Prompto's door. How long had they been traveling? How had she found him, the nomad that he is these days? Had she looked long for him?

But he asks none of those questions. Not yet. Instead, he takes the jar of smushed spaghetti from Alisaie, Louisoix already clapping his hands together at the sight of it. Okay, apparently it really is his favorite. Prompto picks up a tiny spoon as well before taking one of Alisaie's hands and tugging her over towards the beat-up couch with him.

Then he sits, food in one hand as he balances the boy on his lap, patting the spot next to him as he does so. As he settles down, a sigh rolls out of him, deep and tremulous. ]

I don't even know where to start.

[ With feeding Louisoix, or catching up on everything he's missed out on. ]

[ she's quick to grab a little rag, and the sippy-cup half filled with watered down juice before prompto wrangles her right over to the sofa. and then they're sitting, and it's quiet save for louie's babbling, and it's as if all the weight of it is finally settling over them, pressing them down. ]

I know.

[ where even to begin? there's been so much time lost between them, so many poignant events that the prospect of unloading them all seems exhausting, impossible. three years she has spent away working and searching, raising a child. three years he has spent here, in this dying world, alone. there are a thousand conversations that must happen, things they must tell one another, things that warrant explaining.

but for right now.. for right now this is all that matters. being together, sharing the same space after so long, remembering what it is like to experience one another. it's all coming back so quickly, so easily, and while they feel.. out of rhythm, in a way, she is not uncomfortable, she could never be uncomfortable with him, no matter how many years may pass, no matter what might come between them. they will find their equilibrium again. but now, family.

sitting forward, she carefully unscrews the jar and dips in the spoon, leaving it for prompto to lift whenever he's ready, but louisoix is already reaching for it impatiently, babbling pasa, pasa! ]

Just start here. [ a beat, and a smile. ] It will be messy.

[ It will be messy.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his gaze flickering back down to the child on his lap as Prompto finally gives into his demands, lifting the spoon into Louisoix's open mouth. It's such a simple thing, but it's the first time he's done this, the first time he's fed his child that has been unknown to him for years. There's such a simple pleasure in providing this basic necessity, that Prompto works in silence for a few moments, trailing spoonfuls of mushed spaghetti into the toddler's mouth, wiping up the dribbles as they inevitably come.

It's a few moments before he realizes he's started to weep again. His life has been so bereft of good things for so long that now he can scarcely handle so many of them coming at once.

His watery gaze turns up to find Alisaie's eyes again. ]

I-I should have been there for you. I should have been there for him.

[ No matter how impossible that might have been, it doesn't make it any less true. He should have been there. ]

[ alisaie watches in silence as prompto works, and of course he takes to it easily, naturally. you might think feeding a toddler is simple, but it isn't always, especially if they're being fussy and stubborn, but louisoix is a good eater, will happily inhale almost anything in front of him. almost. his little hands are reaching out, grabbing for the spoon, and alisaie is about to tell him that prompto could hand the spoon over to him, but then he's talking.

her eyes flicker up toward his face, her heart breaking at the sight of them, and the words that follow. briefly, she closes her eyes, exhaling softly, before she's leaning into him, and lifting a hand to brush it gently to his face. ]

That's enough.

[ her voice is gentle, but there's a firmness in it as well, that will brook no argument. ]

It could not be helped, and that is no fault of yours. We are together now, and we will not leave you. I am.. sorry that I could not find you more quickly, that you could not be there when you wanted to be, but I will not allow you to carry that blame.

[ There's that touch of hers again, that touch that seems to drive all else away. He leans into it again, so wholly distracted by her that Louisoix is able to easily pull the spoon from his hand. As she always has, she makes it so easy for him to believe the best parts of himself, to believe that he was really doing the best he could.

But if he isn't at fault, she certain isn't, either. ]

Then you can't, either. [ He leans close, to nuzzle against her cheek, against those features which are mapped perfectly in his mind still. He longs to kiss her, to kiss her until they're both numb and breathless and can forget they were ever apart for so long, but he doesn't want to rush this. It's been so long since they've been close. He wants to savor every moment of it, every sensation, stretching out the affection between them like dormant limb. ]

You left home.

[ It's not a question, but it is. It could have been no simple feat to get here, to cross the barrier between worlds even if they were adjacent. What had she sacrificed to make this journey?

Was he really worth the price? ]

Yes, I did.

[ he leans into her touch, and warmth rushes to her chest again, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth, while her free hand moves to louisoix's back to keep him from tumbling away with that spoon. a shame for prompto's lap, though, it's surely going to be spattered with lots of spaghetti now that the boy is digging into it for himself, clumsily. ]

It was a difficult choice, but Hydaelyn is.. in good hands. I am not needed there.

[ though it still aches. the wound is fresh, the memory of her loved ones still clear, but she smiles nonetheless, dropping her hand to cover one of his own. ]

But we are family. You deserved to know your son, and he you. I have no regrets.

[ She says she has no regrets, and he believes her. But still...on Nysa, they'd fought so hard to get their worlds back, to have their homes restored. Prompto had known intimately how much Alisaie missed her world, her brother, the Scions, and as much as it had torn him apart to let her go there without him, he'd at least taken solace in the fact that she would be home once more.

That she would give all of that up for him, for him to meet Louisoix, for them to be together again...is a sacrifice he could never be worthy of. But she had made her choice, and even if he wanted to plead with her to go back, to take their son to a world that had to be better than this one, it would make no difference.

Besides, now that he has her at his side once more, the last thing he wants to do is let her go again. ]

So...you're going to stay?

[ It's not safe here. It absolutely isn't. They shouldn't stay. But gods, he so desperately wants them do. ]

[ the look on his face breaks her heart all over again. ]

Yes, I am going to stay.

[ of course she doesn't mention that she may very well not have a way back, that this is the end of the line, that she is not sure eos would have the magic or technology available for her to ever return home. she had said her goodbyes.

but gods, the last thing she wants right now is to mourn the loss of her home; after working so hard to arrive here she wants only to celebrate instead what she has regained. she wants to look into his face again, to watch him smile and hear his laugh, to feel his arms around her, to wake up beside him. ]

It seems you may need all the help you can get, anyroad.

[ eos is.. an absolute mess. ]

[ She's going to stay.

A fresh, shuddering breath slips out of him as he closes his eyes, letting those words occupy every space in his mind until they are all he can think about. She's going to stay with him. Both of them are. Every lonely night, every time he'd reached out in bed for someone who wasn't there, every tear he'd shed as he clung to memories he feared would fade - they all pale in the light of this revelation, of this new future that has completely changed his life in a instant.

A breathless laugh escapes him then, a smile on his lips once more, even with the tears that still fall. They're tears of unbridled joy, of a hope he hasn't felt in years, of love, true, real, love, that bound them together across universes. ]

You can say that again.

[ One arm still around Louisoix (who is going to town on that spaghetti and making a grand mess), Prompto lifts his free hand to her face, to glide his thumb over her cheek, to press his brow to hers. ]

It...won't be easy. Living here.

[ Though he's sure that won't deter her. ]

Edited 2017-12-03 06:27 (UTC)

Of course it won't, but it was not easy living there, either.

[ in true mmo fashion there was, of course, always a threat to be dealt with. primals and factions, the garlean empire's constant hovering promise of conquest, and of course the ascians above all, and their dark god zodiark, orchestrating it all.

it gives her.. something of an idea of what might be going on here, to be perfectly honest, but that is a conversation for another time. for now, the three of them occupying this space, the the promise of its continued occupation, is all that matters. nuzzling her nose to his own, she smiles. ]

I am a survivor, you know that, you cannot deter me with danger.

[ and then - splat - a spoonful of mushed spaghetti flung toward them and a peal of laughter just after. what a little jerk.. ]

I had a feelin' you might say something like that.

[ And it's so good to know that no matter how much time has passed, she is still the woman he fell in love with, the woman he married. He's about to kiss her again, then, the brief warmth they'd shared earlier sweet upon his memory, but SOMEONE apparently doesn't appreciate mom and dad getting too schmoopy in front of him.

The spaghetti hits Prompto squarely in the jaw, and he draws back with a laugh of his own to turn his attention back to Lousioix. ]

Oh, so that's how you wanna play it, huh? Huh? [ BRING IT, SON. Prompto delicately sets the jar of spaghetti aside...before launching into a full-on tickle-attack. Having a kid apparently will spare Alisaie from them. ]

time to die ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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