overstay, understand
"I would go because I felt like I had to - because there was nothing left here for me all."
Fi said nothing.
"Is that how you feel?"
"Master Mythra, it is...bold of you to assume that I feel at all."
But you have to. Don't you have to? If the Aegis can feel, then surely the Master Sword can feel. Surely it must be just as cursed.
Well, but it's a holy sword. It's an instrument of the goddess - that's the reason why it sings, even if Mythra fails to strum the harp.
Always. No faltering. So maybe it makes sense that you'd have to live that with no feelings.
And Mythra, now, as the one being left?
"I guess I don't feel anything either, because I understand why you're going. I'm...fine with it."
Fi peers into Mythra's eyes with that keen focus of absent eyes that should be so defiant, so narrowed of all ways, but isn't. Doesn't. Can't be. Won't.
Mythra fidgeted in place - what felt like jittery movements, anyway, but were just minute fractions of a beat. Always a magnifying lens on her every tic, because she was the one who always blew little moments into skyscrapers out of proportion.
Flew up too high. Terminal velocity. Pounds of steel and feathers.
Mythra stared back at Fi. "You're just going to sleep."
"I do not sleep."
Groan. "I'm not saying you snore. But you're going to be suspended. I've heard you call it sleep yourself."
"And someday I may return." Fi's empty sleeve on Mythra's personal proximity, an inquerulous admonition, almost makes her shiver. Must just be the fluttering of the passing-through wind, in an ancient temple where no air has ever stirred for millennia.
Maybe it would be better if Fi just admitted it. Is that really what she (Mythra) wants?
Say you're sorry. Say you'll miss me. Say it's not me, left waiting here, who's the crazy one.
"Farewell, Mythra."
"See you later, Fi."
Later...so long.