for love and its apologies

Chapter 01: i love you, i'm sorry -> mythraminoth
Chapter 02: i'm sorry, i'm in love with you -> minoade
Chapter 03: love means never having to say you're sorry -> addamythra

It's Minoth at his most defeated, his most sore of hope.

What is there left to say to someone - not just anyone - who outright refuses any positive attention she didn't deign to conjure herself?

I'm sorry for what it means, Mythra, truly, but there is nothing left but the truth, here.

Minoth's pride is of no use to him, when it comes to Mythra. She's the Aegis; all around must submit. No argument necessary. It's obvious to anyone with a shred of ceremony in their heart. And Minoth was born with a stageload of ceremony.

She looks away, frowns, fidgets. How could he heal this? How could a mere Blade, Flesh Eater, human, or any petty recombination of such?

How indignant Addam sounds, when he makes the proclamation.

Haven't you noticed, then? I do beg your pardon, but it is the fact. It is the only fact, in fact, that matters.

Minoth isn't the only one with any, or even too much, pride, around here. Addam finds that it cuts at him indeed to be brushed off as unserious, perhaps petty.

This type of smear, he's never faced before. This type of indignity, of being pushed back at, right in his face.

Perhaps it goes to show that he'd never cared so much about anything his father had to ask of him, after all. Not this much, certainly.

His father's love, though great and weighty and shielded more than it was ever wielded, pales and shrinks in comparison to the promise, the idea, of Minoth.

Not just a Blade. A companion at his side through everything, through every joke and every sin.

Mythra never likes to admit she's wrong, of course, but then...

But then, Addam will soon enough realize that he's not asking her to. All her apologies, he's given and taken within himself already. That absolution, that peerless level of trust...

Well, it's an idyll. It's more than a bit fantastical. But once he realizes that it's what he can give, fathoms out the bottomless depths, then they're a world away.

Mythra goes slack-jawed, when she begins to see this. A light ringed round the edge of the world, a flurry of hadrons imparting the strongest of subatomic interactions to be imprinted upon their two-in-one souls.

This is what they meant, when they told her that. You begin to join at each inflection point, bright spots burnings at the tips of your fingers where another encounter could lie.

Addam may not always understand her, but he doesn't have to to accept her. It's a weird (really, really weird) phasospectrum in between, all the time.