This world is vastly different from Lloyd's own, but the stars are the same, which is a welcomed surprise. It makes sense, honestly - this Aselia shares a lot of the same towns, cities, and general geography of his own, but... It's weird. Lloyd knows better than to think that maybe the stars he's staring at are anything more than a reflection of the stars on his Aselia, but. The comfort that the familiarity brings him, that leads him to think that maybe his Colette, his Genis, his Raine, they're all staring at the same stars, waiting for Sheena and him to return home - it's large enough to help him push down at the growing, stubborn sense of unease and anxiousness that settle themselves in his gut. Lloyd shouldn't be here, not with the ghosts that linger in his mind, not with him being so weak as to break so quickly and violently whenever faced with something he's not ready for.
Sleep escapes him, just as he knew it would, and honestly, he's not upset about it. Lloyd knows that had he been able to sleep, had his over-clocked mind taken the chance to rest, he would have had nightmare after nightmare. This entire day has been shrouded in episodic flashbacks and feelings he refuses to truly give the time of day, and he knows that with days like this, he's usually prone to waking up with a yell. The last thing Lloyd wants is to wake everyone up, to show them how broken he is, so he takes the involuntary reprieve not sleeping allows him and stares up at the sky, fighting off half-thoughts and memories with stories of heroes burned into the night.
He thinks of a lot. Thinks about his actions today, of the words he shared with Anna and Malos. Of losing his composure, of embarrassing Zelos and crossing several lines by accident. Thinks about how he ditched Sheena to deal with the fallout of his break-down and swears he'll be better about that. Lloyd fidgets, trying to stay quiet, though the rush of his mind makes it impossible for him to find a comfy position. So he stands, quiet as a mouse because Sheena is definitely sleeping quite nearby, and tip-toes away, careful to keep silent as he reaches for his swords, watching out for any tree branches he might snap.
There's a smaller clearing only about twenty feet from the campfire. Lloyd settles himself up against a boulder jutting out from the hillside and puts his arms behind his head, looking back up at the sky with a sigh. He wishes he had his carving tools here, something he could use to distract his hands. Lloyd's not in the mood for training, not when the memories that haunt him are of the fighting kind, and he just misses creating things for a change. Misses tinkering, misses making jewelry and small wooden gifts. Instead, he keeps silent, keeps focusing on the stars that twinkle, the moon that dimly lights the forest with peaceful white light. There's the constellation Efreet, with Celsius facing against it in a dueling dance. Sylph, to the right, a connect-the-dots picture of playful vitality. As the list grows, and Lloyd recognizes more and more, the world once again fades to his own. But it's blurry, fuzzy, the gentle touch of a man unknown to him guiding his chubby hand, pointing at the sky.
They say all heroes become stars, one day. Says the man, with a low timbre and a fond smile.
Lloyd blinks and the image fades, and for as much as he claws his mind for it again, for any possible continuation of that memory, of a time when Kratos was there and happy to be with him, it's gone. Letting out a defeated sigh, Lloyd pulls his arms out from behind his head, staring at the stone that's settled in his left hand, glinting bright blue against the moonlight. He doesn't know what to think about Kratos anymore, doesn't really know what to think about anything anymore. The past two days have challenged him in a way comparable by only a few others in his life, and he doesn't know if that's going to stop anytime soon. Gently, Lloyd places his right palm over the sphere, blinks, and looks back up at the sky.
He's overwhelmed. Confused, tired, and upset. But there's a beat of hope that keeps coming up from beneath the cracks. This could be a second chance to prove his worth to reflections of people who should have never met him.
A noise. Lloyd swings his head to the side, already reaching for his swords, but a bright orange glow coats the trees of the direction the noise came from, so Lloyd forces himself to look relaxed. His heart beats hard in his chest, tense and more than a little nervous, because why the hell is Zelos coming to talk to him, and how is Lloyd going to get through this without slipping up, without embarrassing himself further?
Lloyd takes a deep breath, counts to three. "Zelos?"
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Sleep escapes him, just as he knew it would, and honestly, he's not upset about it. Lloyd knows that had he been able to sleep, had his over-clocked mind taken the chance to rest, he would have had nightmare after nightmare. This entire day has been shrouded in episodic flashbacks and feelings he refuses to truly give the time of day, and he knows that with days like this, he's usually prone to waking up with a yell. The last thing Lloyd wants is to wake everyone up, to show them how broken he is, so he takes the involuntary reprieve not sleeping allows him and stares up at the sky, fighting off half-thoughts and memories with stories of heroes burned into the night.
He thinks of a lot. Thinks about his actions today, of the words he shared with Anna and Malos. Of losing his composure, of embarrassing Zelos and crossing several lines by accident. Thinks about how he ditched Sheena to deal with the fallout of his break-down and swears he'll be better about that. Lloyd fidgets, trying to stay quiet, though the rush of his mind makes it impossible for him to find a comfy position. So he stands, quiet as a mouse because Sheena is definitely sleeping quite nearby, and tip-toes away, careful to keep silent as he reaches for his swords, watching out for any tree branches he might snap.
There's a smaller clearing only about twenty feet from the campfire. Lloyd settles himself up against a boulder jutting out from the hillside and puts his arms behind his head, looking back up at the sky with a sigh. He wishes he had his carving tools here, something he could use to distract his hands. Lloyd's not in the mood for training, not when the memories that haunt him are of the fighting kind, and he just misses creating things for a change. Misses tinkering, misses making jewelry and small wooden gifts. Instead, he keeps silent, keeps focusing on the stars that twinkle, the moon that dimly lights the forest with peaceful white light. There's the constellation Efreet, with Celsius facing against it in a dueling dance. Sylph, to the right, a connect-the-dots picture of playful vitality. As the list grows, and Lloyd recognizes more and more, the world once again fades to his own. But it's blurry, fuzzy, the gentle touch of a man unknown to him guiding his chubby hand, pointing at the sky.
They say all heroes become stars, one day. Says the man, with a low timbre and a fond smile.
Lloyd blinks and the image fades, and for as much as he claws his mind for it again, for any possible continuation of that memory, of a time when Kratos was there and happy to be with him, it's gone. Letting out a defeated sigh, Lloyd pulls his arms out from behind his head, staring at the stone that's settled in his left hand, glinting bright blue against the moonlight. He doesn't know what to think about Kratos anymore, doesn't really know what to think about anything anymore. The past two days have challenged him in a way comparable by only a few others in his life, and he doesn't know if that's going to stop anytime soon. Gently, Lloyd places his right palm over the sphere, blinks, and looks back up at the sky.
He's overwhelmed. Confused, tired, and upset. But there's a beat of hope that keeps coming up from beneath the cracks. This could be a second chance to prove his worth to reflections of people who should have never met him.
A noise. Lloyd swings his head to the side, already reaching for his swords, but a bright orange glow coats the trees of the direction the noise came from, so Lloyd forces himself to look relaxed. His heart beats hard in his chest, tense and more than a little nervous, because why the hell is Zelos coming to talk to him, and how is Lloyd going to get through this without slipping up, without embarrassing himself further?
Lloyd takes a deep breath, counts to three. "Zelos?"