[voicetest] it's this guy

[unsunderworld]

[To the surprise of absolutely no one.

Shadowbringers spoilers abound beyond this point.]

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[astralera]

In some ways she is feeling a bit better, which is a great relief. The movement of her tail slows against his hip — or what she believes passes for one. The anatomy of this form of his is questionable, and though there is idle curiosity about it now that he isn't using it to attack her it isn't something she would ever inquire about.

Era hums in response; tired, content. There is still a great deal of pain, yet pain is such a fixture in her life she hardly spares it any thought beyond assuring it won't kill her. Breathing in the last of the fruit gifted to her, she licks her lips and fingers and permits herself to settle wholly against her companion. Her shoulders droop along with the lids of her eyes, body preparing to convalesce now that she has sufficient enough aether reserves to keep her alive while she sleeps.

"Apologies for..." For what? She cannot find the words with her tired mind, like trying to cup water with spread fingers.

{Inconviencenuisanceburden} her aether pulses weakly, having no such lingual limitations. It is still distinctly hers in feel, though it is tinged with darkness as Hades' is slowly absorbed and aetherially realigned.

[unsunderworld]

It is the edge of the tongue she has forgotten how to speak, and the feeling of his aether in response is {confusionexcitementsatisfaction}, even before he speaks, voice low and murmuring even beyond the norm for the language he currently has no option but to speak.

"Think no such thing. You are a challenge in many ways, yes, but not in this." He will not spare her when he thinks she hasn't lived up to the admittedly high standards that he carries like an albatross, but he will not permit her to think anything less of herself for his decisions, either. "My willingness to expend a great amount of aether for those I value, few as those things now are, is in some ways near the root of the whole of our predicament."

Which is the closest his tempering will allow him to come to regretting it, to asking if things could have been different. He offered of himself freely once, to a god of salvation, to a hungry primal, and a hungry hero consumes and places demands on him far less.

[astralera]

For all that Era is aware now that she is a person, for better or worse, and thus allowed to share her burdens, to stumble, to fall, and seek help to lift her back up to her feet, it is still difficult to forgive herself her perceived failings. To have allowed herself to be so injured in the first place, and then to allow herself to give in to a gnawing hunger so primal and deep and horrific...

Most of all she feels shame, and it is etched in every line of her now, though the tired curve of her body pressed against him camouflages most of it. She lets out a small, hummed note as he speaks again, tilting her head to the focal point of his 'voice' so that it might better reverberate through her horns.

"I'd've done similar," Era murmurs. From what she knows of the circumstances... She would never have agreed to sacrificing so many others, but...

If what she has been led to believe is correct, technically she did do something similar, in that time before time.

She shoves those thoughts aside, instead using a fragment of aether to express the {lovelovelovelovelove} and {protect} that she feels for her people. Even when they disappoint her so, she cannot help but to love them to an extent that is almost painful. And while Emet-Selch, the Architect, may not be of her people, he is still one of hers now. Someone to protect and love however she can, especially when he is the only one she can rely on where it counts the most.

Hopefully it suffices where words would not, because what words can one express the true lengths they would go to in order to save one's people?

It doesn't occur to her that straining her soul to the point of it fragmenting into corrupted slivers, losing all sense of form and self, and fighting so fiercely against it — refusing and defying reality with all of her being — was likely explanation enough for Hades.

Era shifts and sighs, long and exhausted, now teetering on the edges of consciousness. She shivers briefly, tucking her chin deeper into the warm fabrics he created for her. Inhales a scent that eases the homesickness that grips her heart. She exhales slowly; another sigh. Goes boneless without a care.

Her tongue is as lead in her mouth for how little energy remains in her, but she has a deep, desperate need for an answer to one final question:

"Will you stay?"