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The first thing you notice about him is his voice. Enthusiastic, warm, full of joy and life. Coerthas has been a constant frustration, filled with prim, dull voices and constant rejections. Not so with him. His welcome is immediate and sincere, his voice full of, you think, all the emotions the other Ishgardians must have lost. His lilting accent rings in your ears, and you find yourself warming to this strange Ishgardian.
You notice his arms next. You could say that he talks with his hands. You could say that, but you might as well then go on to say that Garuda’s lair was just a touch breezy. He does not speak with hands alone, but with his entire arms. With wide, sweeping gestures which encompass all of him. Some corner of your mind pictures a dog, tail wagging so hard the entire body can do naught but follow, and you smile. Exuberance such as his was never meant to be contained, and you are glad he does not bother to try.
His lips are the next to catch your eye. His smile, to be more specific. Wide and honest, a light all of its own making. His is not the tight, polite smiles of his fellow Ishgardians. Their smiles hardly warrant the word. His is the very definition of a smile, the truest, simplest, purest expression of joy. It is warm and welcoming, a smile which invites you to smile, an invitation you find you cannot well refuse. It is a smile which cannot be contained in lips alone, but instead reaches upwards, bringing a light to his eyes.
Those, you notice, are a most striking shade of blue. Lit by the joy of his smile as a perfect blue sky is lit by the sun. You feel as if you could drown in the blue of those eyes. You find your gaze trailing to them again and again, delighted when his gaze meets yours. In his eyes is always a friendly greeting, a welcome more inviting than the blazing fires of his hearth, and, you think, just the right touch of mischief.
You notice his voice first. Sharp, biting, edged with alarm, bordering on panic. It is not the joyous voice of his which you have grown so used to, which fills you with joy to hear. Not so this time. His voice now is a jolt, it fills you with dread, stops your next step short. You wheel about, searching for him.
You turn in time to see his arms brace against the impact of the spear. He is straining to ward off the missile of aether, arms tense to the point of shaking. His entire self is focused on the task, all of his energy given over to holding his arms steady. It is not enough. You don’t want to admit it, you are terrified to admit it, but your eyes betray you, and you see it to be true. Bit by bit, second by second, he is being overwhelmed. He will fail.
His lips are tinged in blood, a dark moistness across skin growing paler with each passing breath. Your knees slam into the ground as you drop next to his fallen form. You do not feel the pain. You are too busy watching his face. He is smiling, but this is not his smile. Tight with pain and softened by sadness, his lips turn up with but the barest hint of relief. Even now he invites you to smile. You cannot well refuse.
You meet his gaze, but the smile has not reached his eyes, cannot reach his eyes. You see in those blue depths a turmoil of emotions, of all the words you both had left to say. You wish you could say them now, that he could. Yet before the words can even begin to form, you see the light fade from that perfect blue sky, and his eyes close one last time.