Angel Engine Y

Egil feels all too keenly that he has not loved, ardently and with the whole of his self, since Arglas. He has loved Lady Meyneth with consummate devotion, has held his sister in the highest untold esteem, but he has not loved for the sake of love, for the sake of passion, for the sake of joy, in a way that need not be defended - in a way that does not attack - in a very, very long time.

Oh, Arglas... Such philosophy and tender companionship. No one, Egil must admit, will ever replace, ever recreate, the place his dear partner holds in his core. All the good of Bionis had been in Arglas. All of Arglas remains in Egil, but buried so deep...

There is Shulk, he will admit, and that...that is developing. A friendship, perhaps a kinship.

A friendship, perhaps a kinship, with Fiora. And how could this be possible? An impertinent, highly feminine Homs damsel whose transformation into a Face he had ordered, but not overseen.

All the other Faces had been men. Those were the soldiers who had died in Sword Valley, the ones whose corpses remained intact enough to be used.

Metal Face had utterly destroyed Fiora's body, her organs. Vanea had built them anew.

Egil is not insulted on the part of his sister. Rather, he is astonished that Fiora still takes his notice, even now. That she, who performs her role so well, so perfectly in the traditions of Homs culture (Machina have it not, yet Egil still finds the dichotomy and the pole-crossing thereof resonates), could be so...appealing to him. Intriguing. Even, attractive.

He drives himself to shame with the thoughts. Why, to be so obsessed with her? Why, to let someone he abused in the name of his goddess continue to suffer his undue attentions?

And then, the next time he sees her, Fiora is not quite so feminine as she had been. Not so...womanly.

(How disgusting. Womanly? Only if you want to be. Adjust for your assimilation, Egil.)

"Fionn," he intones, offering Egil his hand. "It's a pleasure meeting you again, Egil!"

Oh, so he's a scamp, is he? But Egil reminds himself that Fionn was just so, before. Now, after the regeneration and the regeneration that has followed that, even ongoing, he's charming in an alternate light. Strong in a...strapping way. Hadn't Fiora been strapping?

Fiora had been a piece of Colony 9 that fit to all its façade, browns and reds and gentle greens. Face Nemesis had not been Fiora.

Neither had Face Nemesis been Fionn.

Fionn draws Egil's attention to the center and pins it there. A binder and baggy pants of a bright, fetching orange minimize the curves, surrept them away. The short hair stays, spiky and tufted as ever, though it fades down to a dirty brown-blonde (say, bronde?) up at the roots. Bleach...Machina all have gray hair, and don't toy with it. But Fionn has, here and there and back again.

What beguiles him? Is it the transformation, or the soul that had been there all along?

"Likewise a pleasure, Fionn." Egil takes the firm hand for shake, or clasp, or something else entirely. "As ever." But surely not...all the same. "I must apologize - I had not known of your transition."

How horrible it must have been, trapped inside that body that couldn't bind. Not so modular as a standard Machina's.

Fionn laughs, the same middle-range jagged bubble. "That's alright! I hadn't known myself, until just recently."

"Around the time of your restoration?" Egil hopes to confirm.

"About then, yeah. I think having the Mechon body helped me to realize, actually."

Remarkably, this is all open conversation, to Fionn. Though the Machina are free with their discussions of sexuality, gender and romance, Egil himself would consider this all much more private. He always has. It's why he feels so invasive in his current thoughts and fixation.

It is...disquieting. To be faced with such feelings again, after so long. To know that he is utterly compelled in his thoughts, words, deeds, all to Fionn. To see that such a simple change, a shade of degrees, has changed so much. No height. No weight. Just a cut of jaw, a jut of chin.

And he can never tell. No, never. He will carry this fascination to his grave, that which has eluded him for so long (and well that it has, for him to meet Fionn and share in his newfound euphoria).

"It is a wonderful look on you," is all Egil says. But Fionn laughs that throaty, knowing laugh, and Egil knows he has been betrayed.

"Did Egil seem...different to you, today, Shulk?"

That's a funny thing for Fionn to be saying, isn't it? Shulk quirks a corner of lip.

"I think he's just happy for you."

"Just..." Fionn nods. "Yeah! Must be."