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WHO: Meteion and Estinien Wyrmblood
WHAT: In avoiding the Kenoma, a bird runs into another problem.
WHERE: Venera
WHEN: 26th of Soviseri.
WARNINGS: This will only end in tears, with Meteion a shard.

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The bird has been doing her best to keep a low profile ever since the events of the Sovereign's Moon had come to an end. She'd spoken to no one, though that had hurt. Hurt in ways that Meteion had not comprehended until now, when she was well and truly alone. There wasn't anyone she could trust any more. Not after the things she had done--but she also had no one to blame for that but herself. Meteion had made her choices now, like she had made them so long ago. Her sisters were no more, though, and despite the assurance she'd had from Cid that the Final Days had not been her fault...was that something the bird truly believed?

Not now. Not yet. She couldn't.

Meteion tugs the edge of her mantle further up over her head. She can't really hide her legs or tailfeathers--not without leaving a trail--so she keeps to the side streets, trusting in the fact that she is small and unobtrusive to hope that prying eyes simply pass over her.

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Estinien had spent the remaining time Meteion needed to hatch waiting with Hayame on the outskirts of the valley, fearful that prolonged contact with the shrine's energies may provide the spirit another opportunity to enchant him. Even so, he spends much of that time thinking about Meteion and about the confrontation that brought them to this place to begin with.

It had happened so quickly, and even now, he's not sure that the choice he made was just. Effective, perhaps - she had not escaped back to the Kenoma, and according to the entity, there was brightness in her future. Had it been cruel to put her through this, though? Was it unnecessary? It's hard to say.

He supposes Meteion is no stranger to cruelty to begin with, having experienced what she did as an empath in a sometimes brutal universe. Even so, he feels a difficult shred of guilty as he watches her linger, unusually silent. He owes it to her to say something, he thinks, though he isn't quite sure what.

"Meteion," he starts, breaking the silence. He's returned to a mostly human form, besides the three sets of angelic wings and generally snow-white colouring. His silvery gaze, still draconic, linger.

That shakes her from her thinking, and Meteion gives a start, looking up at the dragoon.

"Estinien?" The tone of her voice makes a question of his name, though her gaze is open and trusting. If she has any misgivings about what he did in Venera, she seems to have left it in the past.

She moves closer to him, then, and rests a hand on his arm, gentle. As odd as his transformations are to him, Meteion isn't judging. She's not certain they are good, but she trusts him.

Admittedly, it's the Innocence she's uncertain of, though she knows it at least means well.

The touch takes him aback, in particular, because of how gentle and earnest it is. Whatever he was expecting from her, it wasn't that, and for a man not particularly accustomed to casual touch it's enough to confuse him for a solid few moments.

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of everything. Something he really wonders how a being like this ended up becoming the Endsinger, or a Kenoma. It's a horrible thing to contemplate.

She doesn't seem upset with him at all, but he feels the need to say it anyway.

"I... apologize, Meteion. I had not realized the Kenoma had left you when I struck." He pauses for a moment, and then adds: "I feared that were I anything less than swift, that you may end up in the Regent's clutches once more."

Meteion shakes her head, then. She bore him no ill will, and he needed to know it. Her fingers tighten on his arm, but not enough to hurt.

"You don't need to, Estinien. We both weren't...in our right minds, I think, at that point. And even if that was not the case--you were doing what you thought was best, and you were protecting the Pleroma. I only want to do that, too. I feel like it was what needed to happen."

A hint of fear crosses her face, and her hand drops. "I do not want to be in the Regent's clutches. So if what you did then prevented it, it is all to the good. And I would bid you do it again."

Never mind that dissipation wasn't an incredibly comfortable sensation, and Meteion doubted it was a good thing if it happened too many times, but she meant what she said.

He's finding himself getting strangely emotional about all of this. It's not as if Meteion is someone who he's ever had a chance to know properly. As an enemy in Etheirys she was a mystery to him, besides the feelings she represented. He hadn't been able to meet her in her youth, like Himeka had. In Horos, he's only gotten to speak to her a few times.

And yet...

Even in the Kenoma, her heart had been true. He remembered her at his side in Venera when he had been too ill to know himself. He remembers speaking to her before all that, and being charmed by her compassion for something as foreign and antagonistic as a primal. He manages a small, wavering smile as he thinks of it.

Oh so tentatively, he reaches over to lay a hand over hers. While normally physical contact makes him nervous with anyone he isn't very familiar with, here he can't possibly read in any ulterior motives or misunderstanding. Much like her legacy, the Innocent, there is a simple grace to her.

"I will," he says softly. "As long as your heart craves the light, I will fight to keep it within its reach. To protect you from those that would claim you."

A bold declaration, perhaps, but he means it. Her having abandoned the darkness is deeply meaningful to him, especially in this time of turmoil and fear.

He cares so much. And if she were not herself, Meteion knows that this knowledge would be a mystery to her as it is so many others. Himeka knew Estinien well, and Meteion could feel his emotions and read his heart.

Even if it felt like she shouldn't, sometimes. Estinien was a private person...but she could simply not speak of his feelings to anyone else. Unless he bade her to.

"I need to do better. It isn't right that I rely on others to save me. I might not like the idea of fighting, and I know I'm not very strong, but..."

Meteion just shakes her head. She isn't in a hurry to become a combatant, but if there's no other choice...or if there are people she wants to at least defend...

The longer Estinien has worked with the other Pleroma, the more he has found himself internalizing his role as their protector. If they wouldn't fight, he would in their stead, he has often told himself. He would face what foes necessary, dirty his hands where he must... all the same, he is heartened to hear of her interest in self-improvement. It's a hopeful sentiment, isn't it?

Hope that one can be better, do better, and achieve greater things than they'd previously assigned themselves. He nods to her, his approval not out of judgment but out of encouragement.

"There is much you can do without ever drawing a blade," he says. "To heal, to protect, to soothe... they are noble paths. I am full glad to have you at our side, no matter what path you choose."

"I want to do these things. I'm not certain how to go about them, or where to start...but I am sure there are those willing to help me."

There had been a few in Achamoth willing to do so, but there had been more of a sense of...what could Meteion do in turn, for them. Not a sense of helping just because one could. (Well. Meteion herself was of that sort, but when she was in her right mind and not subjugated under her sisters' yoke, that was simply the way she was.)

"Soothing, I can definitely do." That elicits a small laugh from her, but it's a happy one. "I suppose that is where I have some skill already. Reaching out, giving calm, but not forcing it. Save if I'm going to be attacked, I suppose." It's a whirl of thoughts in Meteion's head, and that brings her to a bit of stream-of-consciousness thoughts in her speech, but even gaining more direction from without wouldn't be a bad thing. If anything, she's confident that Estinien would not steer her wrong.

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