Chapter Text
He appears to the boy in a dream. Or, rather, where his busy mind and lack of consciousness had brought him. Alvis stands beside him as he blearily looks around their surroundings, and the seer knows that Shulk will only see what he wishes him to see.
They stand on familiar, yet unexplored, ground: the Bionis’ horn. Not quite on the tip, or near the edge for that matter (he does not wish to frighten the heir half to death), but still far enough out that looking over the side of the stretched land mass would surely give one a terrible sense of vertigo. The sky is dark on account of swirling clouds above; the altitude surrounds them with mist, but they would be able to make out who it was they were speaking with.
When the blond comes to, his posture stiffens from the shock, until a single sweeping gaze matches his shining blue eyes with his company’s metallic silver. Shulk sidesteps away, wide stare breaking from Alvis’ form for only a moment to glance downwards at the rocky ground. Ever the cautious one.
“Where—Alvis? What’s going on?” the Homs asks, taking another step back.
“Considering the amount of time that has passed since our last meeting,” entity replies coolly, unable to resist a growing smile, “I imagined your response a bit differently.”
A bewildered look follows. “No one has seen you in months – I haven’t seen you in months. After… after Zanza, and the creation of the new world, you disappeared.” The offense that tinged his expression fades after a moment. “I thought you died. Everyone did. I mean, if you even can.”
“The persistence of the universe is a peculiar concept, Shulk. Millennia of perpetuating one order only to have it reborn…” he trails off, his gaze holding steady, “It can leave one’s consciousness weary, in layman’s terms.”
“So you’ve been… resting? This entire time?”
“Not quite.”
The blond’s lips purse into a line, and his brows draw together in thought. In confusion. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I am offering an invitation,” Alvis pauses, watching the way the boy’s features shift in curiosity, “The Bionis is dying. Though all life has since left it, and its body lay prone amongst the waters of your renewed seas, it still lives, however barely.” Simper widens at the dampened horror slowly crawling up Shulk’s face. “Do not fear; the soul of the Bionis has long since vacated. His era is over. Though what is left of the Titan still bleeds Ether into the depths below.
“I ask that you join me in a journey to observe its corpse. There are many places you have yet to see with your own eyes, and I believe it would be a shame for the opportunity to go to waste.”
Realization floods the Homs’ features, and something sparks behind his searching focus. Alvis already knows what he is going to ask. “Can my friends come, too?”
“Unfortunately,” entity replies easily, his stare unwavering, “my intentions are for it to be a journey for you. What with all you have been through, and the insight you have attained thus far--”
“No,” Shulk interrupts, shaking his head, “I can’t go without my friends. It wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“I can understand why you would be unwilling to travel without them. However there are certain things I do not believe those who have not experienced divinity would find much use for.”
This quiets the boy for a few seconds, his brow creasing as the metaphorical gears begin to turn. “I..I didn’t change my mind, Alvis.”
“This is not about that.”
“Then what is it about? Why do you want to do this? Why now?”
“You will see.”
Alvis can feel the way the heir’s fingers curl into fists, as if they were his own hands. A side effect from dwelling within one’s subconscious. Frustration is there, and it is at war with an unbearable thirst for knowledge. He wanted to know – needed to. There were so many things he had yet to see, and this would be an opportunity like none other. In his brief bout of godhood, he felt the universe breathe in time with him, felt the world come together as one, though he could never understand. Not in that short amount of time. It had only been a glimpse, and he needed more. The seer knew this better than anyone else.
It was selfish. Horribly so. He had responsibilities to the colonies and to the people. He couldn’t afford wasting time on some road trip with the Monado. Thoughts trail to Fiora, still resting in the regeneration chamber provided by Melia, with help from Linada. It would be a long time before he could see her face again. See her smile in the pretty way she always did when she looked at him. All his hard work was for her, not just the people of the renewed colonies. A warm feeling swells in his chest – she’d want him to go, wouldn’t she? He wished she was here. She would understand.
Blue eyes close for a moment and he inhales, eventually replying with a determined, yet exasperated tone. “Okay.”
--
“So, wait, wait, wait, HEY!” a large hand snatches the piece of clothing from Shulk’s grasp. The blond sighs and looks up to his friend. Reyn towers above him, his arms folded across his chest in defiance. “You’re tellin’ me you’re just gonna disappear? With him? For, what, seven years?”
“It’s not going to be that long, Reyn, and you know it,” he extends an arm in an attempt to wrangle his shirt back, “Give me my stuff – I need to get to the docks before it gets dark.”
“I can’t believe he was around this entire bloody time,” he grumbles before his expression fades into the expectant, “Wh…What if you’re not back when she wakes up, eh? What then?”
There is a twist in Shulk’s gut, and he swallows. “I’ll be back in time. Linada said the chamber would take at least a few months and I’m not gonna be gone that long. It’ll probably be a week at most! Now give me--”
“So you’re just going and you’re leaving me to explain to everyone where you’ve gone.”
“I wrote a letter for Dunban for when he gets back with the Machina, and a letter for Melia and Riki,” the Homs turns away, instead packing other items inside his bag rather than wait for his friend to return what he stole, “You hang out with Sharla all the time; it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Al- Monado knows what he’s doing.” Shulk glares down at his things, uncertain of who he is trying to reassure anymore.
“Yeah, sure. I still don’t trust ‘im.”
“Even after he saved all of us.”
“Oy, we saved us. He just… did the technical stuff.”
Tucking a third water bottle into a side pocket, he finally begins zipping up his only luggage. Nothing too large or heavy, just something for what he thought he might need. Clothes, fresh water, basic travel items. Though he was unsure how useful such mundane things would be when in the company of Alvis. The seer did say just to bring what he thought best. Vague, but that was to be expected.
Turning back towards Reyn, Shulk scans his face. His best friend stares back, and there is a twinge of worry buried beneath his boisterous confusion and frustration. Reyn was never very good with expressing how he actually felt. Perhaps time alone with Sharla would get him to open up more. Pursing his lips, Shulk places his hands on his waist. “I’ll only be gone a couple days. A week at most. If I’m out longer than that, I’ll give him a piece of my mind just for you.”
A very distinct, very recognizable pout. “I hope that means you’ll sock him in the nose.”
Smiling, the blond chuckles. “Yeah. Extra hard.”
“I mean it, Shulk. I don’t… I don’t trust him. It. Whatever,” dark eyes avert to examine the floorboards, “I don’t care what he did for us or the world. The guy’s shady. I don’t want him to take you away, y’know?”
This time, Shulk frowns, recalling the dozens of late night talks they had had since the recreation of their world. He had done his best to explain what it’d been like to be a god, but he never felt like his explanations were enough. There was always this unexplainable sensation he couldn’t come up with words to describe, and yet Reyn seemed as fascinated as ever. Fascinated, and terrified. He had come very close to losing his closest friend that day, and it seemed to be a difficult memory to let go of, considering his overprotective qualities. Though he had become more resolute in his attitude for the future, old habits died hard.
“I’m not going anywhere, Reyn. I promise I won’t let anyone take me away.”
“How do you know?” his tone is more urgent, “This is the Monado we’re talking about. Unlimited power? Sound familiar?”
“He knows I don’t want that life. He has to obey me,” he couldn’t think of any better way to put it, and while his tone was more confident, his words fell flat, as he was not. He had no idea what was in store for him – it was all blind trust in Alvis. Trust in a true neutral of a being, who had no morals or conscience… Shulk shook his head, long strands of flaxen hair falling in front of his eyes as he searches for his friend’s gaze. “I will be alright, Reyn. I swear. Cross my heart.”
It is a few reluctant seconds before the taller Homs hands him his extra shirt back. “Fine. A week? I’m marking the calendar for when I go hunting for you myself.”
A grin slowly returns and the smaller tosses the garment to the side before holding out his arms, welcoming the other into an embrace. His friend accepts, however Shulk can only tolerate being lifted and squeezed for so long before he is sputtering for release from Reyn’s iron like hold.
“Oh, and when you see him, punch him anyway, first thing,” Reyn says as they begin to finally part ways, “For good measure. Tell ‘im it’s from me.” He proceeds to deliver a hard blow into his opposite palm as an example, before waving goodbye. The look of worry seems to trickle back into his features as Shulk turns away, heading for the entrance of the colony, towards the docks.
--
“Hello.”
Shulk nearly jumps out of his skin at the greeting. His nerves were so on edge from his farewells with Reyn that he was sure he would have leapt right off the edge of the dock should Alvis have been any louder. Blinking, he turns towards the smaller Homs, a strange sense of amazement sweeping over him for a moment. He hadn’t been in Alvis’ presence – or rather, the Monado’s physical form’s presence – in some time. The last time he was, he had been put in the awkward position of ignoring his feigned treachery. He didn’t appear any different: same long, pale hair, sharp metallic eyes and placid features. Same clothing as well. All indigo and violet hues that complimented his dark complexion. They stood at nearly the same height, and yet he seemed so much smaller than Shulk. Smaller than anything; he was inconspicuous like that, the Homs thought.
Now they stand together, ready to set off on a trip. Just the two of them. Shulk wouldn’t describe Alvis as the best for casual conversation or small talk, so he was certainly unsure how such an endeavor would go, but that did not stop a flittering, eager feeling from rising within his stomach. He almost wants to reach out and touch the man, just to make sure it was real.
“Hi—I mean, hello. Alvis,” Shulk clears his throat and summons his friendliest smile, one to spite the nervousness slowly tainting hopeful expression, “…Do you still want me to call you Alvis? Or would you prefer Monado..?”
“Which do you prefer?”
The blond opens his mouth, then shuts it, the question catching him off guard. “Er… well, I was asking you?”
“Whichever is easiest for you, Shulk.”
A pause. Chewing his lip, the Homs nods. “I’ll just stick with Alvis.” Monado seemed dehumanizing anyway.
Alvis nods in return, and turns his attention out to the sea – to the large mass of land far off in the distance. The colony’s officials had deemed it too dangerous to investigate for now, due to the enormous accumulation of Ether content oozing out from the Titan’s body. I’d give it a few decades before we see one inch of that thing. Shulk recalls speaking with Dunban on the subject.
He sighs. Dunban will be furious when he finds out where he’s gone.
Shrugging off the thought, he tucks his hands into his front pockets. He’d abandoned his usual outerwear in favor of a larger, dark blue coat and pants to match, both garments embroidered with the complicated designs of Colony Nine. Bright eyes trail over the outline of the impossibly large, crumbled corpse, a calm silence easily settling between them before Shulk finally speaks up once more.
“How are we getting there?” he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I don’t suppose Melia let you borrow one of their aircrafts..?” A blatant joke. If there was one person who hated Alvis more than Reyn, it was Melia. He wonders if Alvis had made any contact with her. Did he even care to?
“No,” Alvis answers plainly, one hand raising to brush silvery hair behind an ear, “I have a much quicker mode of transportation in mind. Though it may be a bit startling.”
Shulk’s brow knits, and he looks down towards the seer. He’s smiling, but barely. “Startling?”
“Take my hand.”
Looking down, the other already has his hand out, palm turned towards the dimming Ether above. Swallowing, he reaches out, finally clasping their hands together. He hardly has time to find it odd how quickly Alvis laces their fingers together before he has lost his footing, along with all sense of body, and self.