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“I thought I’d find you here.”
The cool breeze of the Crystarium chilled her back, her quiet pride swelling at the sight of the night sky. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who stood a few malms away from her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of the First’s foreign grass, taking it all in reverence to her own accomplishments.
As she had (hoped) expected, G’raha took his steps to stand beside her, his eyes following the direction of her gaze. As she sat at the ledge of the hanger’s railings, Phyllis gestured to have the miqo’te join her.
“Times like these, I find everything worth fighting for was never wasted,” she began. “A quiet repose after a day’s work, rather than engage with the festivities.”
Her friend sat quietly beside her, feeling the weight of his gaze at her profile.
He’s here. He’s alive, awake and well.
Her heart quietly fluttered at his presence, a small giddiness that demanded for the warmth of his skin. It was hard to believe she had never felt this way for him in their days when NOAH was still in its expeditionary days. At the time, though she was saddened of his decision to slumber within the Crystal Tower, she found it easy to accept his fate; keeping faith that he’ll be alright in the moment of his wake. To think, after a forceful pluck away from her world, a tantamount of emotionally exhausting tasks; she never knew she could feel so easily attached to anyone like him.
“I’ve always known, you know,” Phyllis smirked. “That the mysterious Crystal Exarch was none other than a miqo’te- no, rather, mystel named G’raha Tia.”
His ears flickered. “H-How did you know?”
She tilted her head at him. “Do you remember G’raha, before we had properly met? I’ve always said you would’ve made for a very honest thief.”
“Even with the glamours I’ve used-?”
“You mayhap fooled the Scions, but to me, it was the most logical conclusion,” she stared out into the stars once more, thinking back on her own mind-process at that time. “Who else but the blood of Allag is able to control the Crystal Tower? Who else other than my slumbering friend would know how the Tower functions? You, who had the means to summon any hero to become your champion. Of all people, you’d choose me to carry out the task, albeit in the most inconvenient of methods.”
She patted the back of his shoulder.
“I’ve always suspected it felt too personal,” she added. “Your vendetta to save me from an ill-fated end, I mean. Though I never would have guessed Urianger was no more than your spokesperson; I’ve always felt that no matter how ominous you appeared to be, I’ve always known you had the best of intentions.”
Her friend hung his head, his ears flopped at the realisation. “-And how long have you suspected it?”
The elezen smiled, “Well, certainly I had my reservations on our first meeting. But after the smallest of gestures and your sense of familiarity with me was enough to give it away.”
“In what sense?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That small habit of making a game out of the most arduous of tasks being one of them. Really, G’raha. If I had not known of you beforehand, I would’ve continued to doubt your intentions. But to easily fall prey to the temptations of familiar, friendly affections, I dare say you are one terrible actor.”
He made an uncomfortable chuckle. “And all this time, I thought I had played my part so well. If you’ve already known, then I must’ve looked terribly foolish to try playing you for a fool.”
Phyllis shrugged as her smile mellowed.
“…I was waiting, you know. Waited for you to tell me when it was safe for you to speak the truth. In my experience, secrets kept from me are born from well-intentions. The moment I knew, I choose to keep my faith; believing your motives were for the benefit of all until the time was ever ripe.”
Had he fulfilled his objective in taking all that poisoned light in her stead, she’d find another reason to loathe her own existence. If he had died so she may live-
The mere thought alone made her heart pang with a familiar pain.
‘A smile suits a hero.’
Her vision blurred for a moment, feeling the sting of tears slowly welling up. With a deep breath she swallowed the melancholy, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before she’d let herself succumb to that harrowing sorrow.
She forced a smile. “But that’s all in past tense. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
Phyllis couldn’t bear admit she had partly loathed him for it. That selfish act of self-sacrifice in exchange for her life. But even she knew if their roles were reversed, she would pay any price to save him from that fate. And thus, she chose to keep all those darkened thoughts to herself.
As the night festivities slowly died down, a small, reposed silence fell between them. Her eyelids closed once more, humming a quiet tune that the bards of the Source would play on the festivities of the Rising. Her thoughts then turned to those whom she had saved, the lives who were lost and the foes whom she fell with her own hands. Emet-Selch’s words lingered in the corner of her mind as she watched the people below slowly retire to their respective places.
Her mind grew more sombre and melancholic, reminded of the last time Fray had ever manifested from her inherited soul crystal.
Ardbert.
Fray.
Emet-Selch.
‘Remember us.’
For each of them, their lives were forfeit by her hands, one way or another. For every soul taken, she made an oath to never forget the lives they had lived; as their entities bear numerous reflections upon herself.
With these hands, I alone-
“Mayhap… I owe you an apology.” G’raha’s voice interjected her thoughts.
“…What is there to forgive?”
“Please Phyllis, if you could indulge this old soul for a moment, I merely wish to get this off my chest.” He drew in a deep breath, eyeing her with determination. “I’m sorry that I had to deceive you, had all of your friends’ souls trapped here in the First. Even more so for what I did to you on Mt. Gulg. I bear no excuses. Nor would I expect forgiveness in all of this.”
A part of her wished to let the matter slide, the other part of her still bore the hurt of almost losing a precious friend once more. By his mere apology alone brought back all the hurt; that marred memory now fresh in her mind. How his attempt of self-sacrifice melded two wounds together.
‘-a smile better suits a hero…’
The air felt thicker as she felt a lump of grief grow in her throat.
“…That’s not fair, G’raha,” she said quietly.
“-Phyllis?”
Must I always be… someone worth dying for?
She stood up and turned her back on him. It took every ounce of her remaining strength not to let her quivering lips to speak.
Don’t cry.
“I…” her voice died out.
By the rustling of his robes, she could tell he was now standing behind her.
She didn’t want to show him this. Didn’t want to crush this image he had of her. The people pleaser that she was, she didn’t want to disappoint him in this harrowing display of being upset over a memory that had happened so long ago.
He took one step closer. Ever closer that she could almost imagine him a breadth away from her.
“…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I… didn’t think to consider your feelings when I said that.”
She shook her head, unable to face him.
Even now, his kindness feels like daggers.
To think she would have lost him too, if the Ascian had not spared him for his own goals.
“It’s not your fault,” her voice now a hoarse whisper. “I’m just… glad you’re alive.”
Every nerve of her began to shudder in an unfounded grief. Her heart ached as the memory replayed itself in her mind’s eye. Tears now flooded her vision like an untamed storm as her mouth tumbled out words before she could think.
“Don’t make me… a cause for sacrifices. I’m sick of it. All of it.”
Stop talking, me.
“I can’t. I cannot. I can’t bear the thought of it…”
Hypocrite. You know you’d do the same as him.
“-I’m not worth anyone’s lives at all.”
Stop talking, Phyllis.
She buried her face into her hands, her long limbs threatening to crumple down and curl into a ball. Her mind churned from loathing herself to being upset over that lingering memory. The mind raced into a conflict of emotions she swore she had kept at bay.
This isn’t like you at all, Phyllis Ebris.
A small, trepid step moved towards her. Followed by the warmth of a hand on her broad shoulder. With a comforting grip, G’raha turned her to his direction, her face still hiding behind her tear-wet hands.
“Phyllis,” he said.
She dared not show him her crying face.
“Phyllis Ebris,” he said again, this time a little more assertive. “It was selfish of me, to leave such a scar in your memories. Whatever ills I may have left you, I promise, I’ll do what I can to make up for it.”
She wanted to say it wasn’t his fault. But the hurt that came with his deed only served to mirror her own recklessness. That by her own lack of self-preservation only served a terrible example for others to follow in suite.
I did this. She concluded. If I had not been as willing to risk my life, he would not have done the same.
She slowly lifted her head, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. G’raha stood there, his Allagan eyes looked desperate to put her at ease. When their gazes met, he smiled pleadingly.
This poor, lovable fool. Even now, he’d force himself to smile for me.
Moved by the will of her own heart, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her chest. She felt his frame stifle for a moment, only to then wrap his arms around her waist. With her a head taller than him, she pressed her cheek on the side of his head; her galloping heart now steady at the feel of his warmth. In her arms, he returned her embrace, his flesh hand stroking her back as though she were made of glass. She expected her friend to say something, only to feel him lean ever so slightly against her taller frame.
No words came out from neither of them, as neither were willing to make a rift between them. Instead, G’raha continued to stroke her back, easing her tensions with every touch. In turn, she cradled the back of his head, closed her eyes and sighed at his touch. His half-crystalized body felt like embracing a heavy-plated warrior, rigid in his reach just as his body was lacking in warmth. Upon remembering his wounds, she retreated from him, albeit in an awkward way then quickly glanced over his face and body for any signs of further cuts.
“You were bleeding not too long ago,” she exclaimed. “Are you even at the right state to be walking?”
“Um, Phyllis?”
“What happened to your injuries? Is the Crystal Tower capable of regenerating your wounds closed?”
“-Rest assured I-”
“Even with Haedelyn’s blessing, putting up a fight against an ascian is no easy feat, let alone to withstand their dubious means,” she then paused, then eyed him solemnly. “G’raha, please be honest with me. Are you alright?”
He blinked in mild surprise, then nodded with a smile, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “I’ve never been better.”
At that moment, a nerve struck; rather, her heart stopped for a moment. Beneath this perfectly, imperfect night, a sweet, familiar pang ebbed at her chest, paired with one impulsive thought:
I love this man.
And with it, her face flushed at the realisation.
…oh no.