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He felt the safest by her flames. Not the place, not the state of mind, but the concept of its intended purpose, its existence, where Natlan rests her fate in her hands and no one else’s. It is here where he takes a sigh of relief, in the hidden dark, beneath the fullest moon, and finds the courage to gaze at a place beyond her silvery glow, a place not found, a place where he cannot return home.
Anguish takes hold of him but only momentarily, of familiar faces lost, of hearts burnt to ashes. Pain is a trinket he wears on his chest now, since he no longer bears the crest he once called home, for his service is now pledged elsewhere, with a new master to serve. Yet such were things he did not care enough to worry about, for his loyalty has stayed exactly where he left and Natlan is his home away from home, a memory too dear to be snuffed out in flames.
And he would see that it will not end this way. To redeem himself from the past he fled and the present that he may yet save. So what if his history will be erased and his roots will wither? A small cost to ensure the survival of what he once lost is one he would gladly pay.
Such is the man the Captain is, to see himself below the needs of others even if he is meant to lead. Even if it means to stand before the Pyro Archon, to risk dying by her hands, he would face it head on, fearless and resolute.
Which is why he is allowed by her flames, why he is welcomed into her abode. Again.
She wonders why she has no recollection of him from all those years ago, yet he does not want her to remember. To remember is to honor the pain that comes with it, and there is no glory in partaking so. He does not take too kindly for its impracticality, often why he finds himself stranded in the corridors of his own conflict.
Still, he rests his weary body by her flames. A familiar warmth that has lived on for 500 years.
“Will you still not tell me your name?”
Mavuika returns with a flask of wine and two glasses. She finds the perfect moment to slip away from the heroes’ party after noticing a certain Harbinger has gone missing, a keen instinct leads her back to her chamber.
The Captain looks away from the heavens, “There is little need to bring up the past. Like I said, my flesh is not what it once was 500 years ago.”
“And yet, you seem to mind it all the same by hiding it from me.” She lays the tray on the ground before she takes her place beside him, watching him as he looks away from her gaze.
“I assure you I am no one significant. Just another person trying to protect Natlan in his own ways.”
And that is what Mavuika finds admirable, “It is true that every warrior in Natlan lives to protect her. I too, am bound to my duty to protect my people and do whatever it takes to end the Abyss once and for all…”
And yet there’s a but, he senses. Staring as she pours a generous amount into both glasses before she offers it to him, more like shoving in fact. The Captain takes it nonetheless, feeling the flames warming up to him stronger, louder.
“But I am no different from my friends. You can’t blame my heart for wanting to cling onto a familiar soul from my time.”
And he knows. There is no one else to share the same experience other than her, her to him. She lives with the sacrifices she had to make, lost the faces that she once loved, and now they are but relics displaced in time, waiting to serve a purpose, to carry on for the ones they have lost for a future they had placed their faith in.
Isn’t this the reason why he has stayed alive for so long?
Isn’t this the reason why he left Natlan when she perished into those flames all those years ago?
Isn’t this… why he came back?
The heat burns through his fabric, through his mask. He salivates for a sip of wine, parched from the hungry look Mavuika throws at him. It is the same face he has missed for so long, yet afraid that sentimentality will cloud his judgement once more. He just wanted to be sure she is still her that's all. After all, that was the first thing she made him promise to do all those years ago.
Natlan is their promise, and he will honor her the way she wants it to be.
“I know you, don’t I?” She pushes him again, leaning so closely to his face that he could smell the sweet wine lifting off her skin.
“You’re drunk, Mavuika.”
“And yet you aren’t. This celebration… wears you thinly, does it?”
She’s right. It’s too early to celebrate. He knows what lurks beneath their land, he remembers the conversation they share intimately in bed every night all those centuries ago. They shared their thoughts, joined their bodies and minds, to plan for this day and its fruition. He’d get lost in her eyes and her in his warmth, but never would they lose sight of their promise, and all that it meant so long as either of them reached their final destination.
Which Mavuika intends to do, as she plans to leave him behind. Again.
“The celebration is a facade. I know what you intend to do.”
“Do you, Captain ?” She grins, now leaning into the delicious scent of his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulders.
“I know what rules are made of.”
She tenses for a moment, losing her smile even he imagines, but quickly dismisses his words with bold measure, “Then do you think I have what it takes to bend these rules?”
The Captain pauses briefly, hesitant only because he knows more than the average Natlanese, “You do. But you can’t unmake them.”
“And even so, you still won't tell me your name.”
“Mavuika…” And before he can stop her, she presses her lips over his, though still guarded by the thin veil that separates them from touching, feeling, wanting .
Just like how she’s always been; making the first move then, making the first move now. Without a shadow of a doubt he knows she’s the same soul she has always been, also why he knows he will get easily swept up in her flames again if he doesn’t distance himself.
“Then at least… show me who you once were.” Mavuika then wraps her arms around his neck and brings him to her chest, “I want to remember this night as I did 500 years ago.”
“You’re a cruel mistress.” He thinks, before he says it out loud. But he knew if he had loved her all those years ago then surely now…
“But you won’t let me leave without a kiss goodbye, would you now?” She teases, her fingers running through his silky black hair gently.
He should hate her for this. For not letting him come with her to the battlefront where he longed to end this immortality, for not letting him pay the price with his life so he could protect hers. Instead, all she does is try to abandon him twice after she has melted his frozen heart with her everlasting flames.
And it burns even till now, a piece of her forever etched and scarred deep inside him.
“No,” alas he caves, and wraps his arms around her waist, “I would not.”
She sighs softly, his gloved fingers prodding the dip of her exposed skin, feeling relaxed in his familiar touch, “I am cruel, aren’t I?”
And the Captain rests his cheek over the bed of her luscious hair, “Let me come with you.”
She doesn’t speak, but it doesn’t surprise him either. It is a plea at this point, and he would only beg once.
So a wry smile instead, while she glides her fingers along his masked skin, “This is in the way.”
He knows what she wants. And in the end, he’ll give it to her all the same. He slides his hands under and into the sides of her skin-tight leather, taunting its stretch until it gives and rolls off her shoulders, pulling a sharp gasp out from her quivering lips. And she offers up every little expression she has to give, all whilst he caresses her supple body with forlorn affection, a forgotten desire building up fast within him.
“Do as you please,” he grants her, and she pushes his cap off so quickly, hands reaching for the back of his mask eagerly, “ I was always yours to begin with .”
And Mavuika pulls his mask off to see a face unrecognisable—yet she kisses him with a burning passion unrivalled, to a clear voice that calls her name like it's home, for a longing that joins to her soul once more.