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The evening the night returned to them pales in comparison to the liveliness in the air of the Crystarium this eve.
A mix of cheers and laughter fill the air, along with the clattering of mugs and drink.
It was a night of celebration, now that the Warrior of Darkness had returned with their Exarch in tow.
Shortly after a quick healing of his injuries, the Exarch had ran past the night of celebration and headed straight to where he knew Panne would be—away from everything.
He greets the innkeeper at the Pendants and follows the familiar path to her room, one he had traversed many times now.
He lifts his knuckle to wrap on the door but stops an ilm before it—will she even want to see him?
They had shared a tearful embrace after they had defeated the Ascian, Emet-Selch, and the way she clawed desperately onto his form as she finally cried—twould be ingrained in the same way her nails dug into his skin.
But she had been silent on their way home, running off as soon as they got to the Crystarium.
He should give her the space she needs, but he needs to soothe the tension that’s grown between them with words unsaid.
He knocks once. Twice. Until a voice growls from the other side of the door.
“Go away.”
He ignores her warning and opens the door, closing it softly behind him.
Panne stands by the window with her back turned to him, still as G’raha slowly makes his way to the middle of the room.
She stops at the sound of his footsteps and twists her head ever so slightly to shoot him a glare with her remaining eye.
“I said piss off.” She growls once more.
“…I’m sorry, Panne.”
There’s the sound of her boots stomping towards him—and then he feels a crushing grip on the front of his robes as his back slams against the wall.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Did you even stop to consider that the people around you actually give a shit about you when trying to off yourself?!”
The look in her eye is fierce, dangerous as she digs her forearm into his throat—but there’s something else. Anguish.
“Or did you just want a big heroic death so all of us can honor your grave when it amounts to nothing! I’ll never understand people like you!”
His heart shatters despite knowing the pain her journey has brought. She was an injured animal, showing teeth at the hand extended to her as she nurses her wounds.
“I knew how much it would hurt you, and I’m sorry, ” He levels his gaze with hers, “but it was the only way to protect the ones I love. And I would do it as many times as it takes if it keeps me from losing you again.”
He feels the hands gripping his robes tremble beneath him.
“You’re an idiot.” Her voice quivers. “A fucking moron.”
He hadn’t realized how close she’s gotten. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, the slight metallic scent in the air from the injuries she likely hasn’t bothered to get attended to yet, mixed with something sweet. Something her.
One move, and he would do what’s haunted his most self-indulgent nightmares for years.
He’s not sure who leans in first, but he sighs as their noses brush against one another. He’s close enough to feel the ghost of her soft, plush lips on his—
—and then she shoves herself away from him.
“...you should head back to the party.” She mutters, stepping towards the door. Her hand grips the handle with crushing strength.
He’s pushed her past her limit.
The urge to call her name overtakes him—a vain attempt to fix what he’s damaged beyond repair. And he does, with a desperation that borders on insanity.
She freezes there.
“The tales of your heroics were not the only things that kept me going ever forward. It was the memories we shared, when we had unraveled the mysteries of the Crystal Tower, and I right at your side for every step—those memories are very dear to me. It was you, Panne, who gave me hope—in a world that seemed to have lost all of it.”
“…I’m not that same woman you knew from those times, G’raha.”
She swings the door open. “And it’s insane to think you’d get any hope from someone like me.”
He wants to convince her how wrong she is, but she’s already out the door—no longer in the mood for argument.
He pulls his hood back up and joins her soon after, he still has appearances to keep, after all.