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When they first met, he wasn’t sure what to think.
This was Ishgard’s bravest.
Their boldest.
Their mightiest.
Their most formidable.
Yet such a man was a slave to his own hatred and rage,
Spurred on by vengeance with no other name.
Deep inside the bloodlust of the Azure Dragoon, Lunix sensed something familiar.
Something he quite well knew.
Passion with nowhere left to call home
Aside from the depths of wanting to make another atone.
Passion that once had faces and names,
It now burns a loss under the dragon’s flame.
Passion masked with apathy and harsh words
To conceal a different kind of hurt.
The Viera didn’t discover desire, it plagued his thoughts first.
A different sort of feeling unearthed.
He wanted the Elezen’s fire, even if it took him alive.
He craved the way the sky lit many shades under those watchful eyes.
If that passion set the whole of Ishgard alight, was it really such a bad way to die?
But it wouldn’t be worth the price.
Those eyes have seen enough loss.
He doesn’t need the solitude of being the cause.
So he’d save the Dragoon from himself,
bring out the passion buried within seven hells,
Restore it to its truest form,
so his Estinien would no longer be forlorn.
But he should have known the other doesn’t bear debt well.
So alas, in his time of need, he was saved as well.
And maybe, just maybe, a secret or two would spill from between their lips in the dark.
Strings of words spoken with the knowledge that from the room it wouldn’t part.
Who knew trust could become an art?