[voicetest] it's this guy

[unsunderworld]

[To the surprise of absolutely no one.

Shadowbringers spoilers abound beyond this point.]

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[heart_of_the_wood]

Somehow the ringing has been silenced, the pain dulled to an ache instead of the mind-splitting rending. Tense muscles unwind and yet her limbs are still her own instead of becoming something horrifying and twisted. The anxious grinding of her teeth has eased to a soft sound that is almost self-soothing, almost purr-like as she finds the motion of his hands drawing up pleasant memories of different times, other places, how long had it been since anyone had done this for her? So busy breaking herself to pieces for others yet rarely allowed a moment like this.

His hands are reassuring in a way that shouldn't be, yet the stroke along her ears makes her sigh in something almost happy, edging towards contentment. A far cry from the broken sobbing that had rent her earlier. Cracking open an eye is enough to make her want to close them again, the Light still edging her vision in a way that's nauseating, so instead she cradles his hand in both her own, thumbs stroking his knuckles.

A part of her knows this won't last. Dreads it. Hates it. The need for rest, for comfort, for anything but more fighting is a desperate cry in the settling debris, knowing that in the end she'll drag herself forward until she's struck down. A part of her knowing that it wouldn't be the first time, and likely not the last. A horrible, terrible cycle they were trapped in, and the flickers of anxiety licked and nipped at her consciousness like ravenous beasts.

Breathe.

He'd always had a pleasant voice, theatrical mannerisms that had made them laugh once, but now she let them brush aside the jittering fears that gnawed at her with each stroke of his hand and his quiet words.

[unsunderworld]

He's quiet for a time, careful to run his hand over her ears in time with her still-evening-out breathing, to give her something to focus on and pace herself to.

"Easy, now," he says, voice still calming, gentle. "Flesh is of no consequence beyond the now. Listen to your aether and your soul; those are the things that matter."

The things that have changed so little - the things that even one of his kind cannot change. It matters not what flesh one of his fellows wears, for even the uplifted he would always recognize, by Zodiark's mark upon them if nothing else.

(The Lightwarden's aether is foreign, and would not follow her, if she took to existing as they do. One of many thoughts in his head that Zodiark binds to his tongue.)

[heart_of_the_wood]

The bone-grinding grip she'd had on his hand relaxes, still cradled close, mirroring the way he strokes her by how she rubs her thumbs along his knuckles. So tired. She's been tired for so long and it was seeping into her now that the pain was muted. Stifled. The weight of two worlds' sorrows set aside for a moment long enough to let her almost doze.

She's close to that place, the even motions of his hand soothing her into a stupor beyond the pain. Funny how she'd been so tense from discomfort she'd forgotten what it had been like not to have it.

"I remember making a behemoth pup." Her voice was distant, almost muffled. Still she dared not open her eyes for fear of the head-splitting haze of light. "I was so enchanted with it, I rushed off to show you. I almost remember the sound of your name. Like a dream just out of reach." Her words were almost half-asleep, but her brows creased slightly at that last thought.

The fact that she couldn't remember more, his name more slippery than a fresh fish, she could almost hear the sound of it and yet it escaped her time and time again. This bothered her deeply, but she couldn't say why.