Gemini Loop

Rex is off cracking open a treasure chest below the gnarled path, bending so far over his belts hitch up to his jacket and that tiny Titan - Gramps, he's calling it? - has nearly fallen out. Various boring, predictable, half-cock frantic sounds come from both of them. He really is exactly like she'd pegged him for, and not a cent duller or sharper.

Pyra, though? ...not so much.

Jin and Malos had referred to the Aegis as a "she", yeah, but not...not like this.

The way Nia had heard it, it'd have been the same as, oh, referring to the C.S.E.V. Maelstrom. Big boat, sure, a woman you respected and cherished and whatnot, and plenty powerful, but not beautiful, and nimble, and strong.

Standing just a couple peds away, finger worrying behind her ear, emerald earring dangling to and fro. Lips parting and pursing, back and forth, but not so much that you'd notice. Nia does, though.

"You handle that sword pretty well," she says, offhand, belying everything she's thinking, been thinking since the explosion and the jump and the crash. The way she tosses it up, pulls flames down out of the air, elbows come tucked in so secure and so right, and her legs hold her steady...

Aha. Yep. Pretty well. Fighting form. All that.

"O-oh, you think so?"

And of course Pyra doesn't sound half so self-assured as Nia thinks she looks, as she's so desperately imagined her.

Flame Nova. That's something new. And what was the other one...Prominence Revolt? New, again. And important. That much was for damn sure.

"I guess I should be. It was made for me, after all." (She doesn't say it's what she was made to do, because of course that's not true.)

There's a rushing noise in Nia's ears as she fights the urge to lay her hand to her chest just like Pyra's doing right now.

"It's different when you're holding your own Blade weapon. Dromarch must have told you that."

Must have. Sure.

"You're skilled with his Twin Rings, but they are still his. I...guess it's easy to imagine that anything I do automatically looks more fluid."

Of course Nia doesn't know how catastrophically difficult it is, in truth, for the one who's being imagined. She can tell there's a certain sort of sadness that Pyra has, but she'd just as easily mistake it for maturity - Pyra hiding what she's got behind a far more serene mask than a sassy cat who can't keep from flashing her fangs.

She's hearing it for herself, instead. How her pretending to be Dromarch's Driver is just that, and no more. Rex is clumsy because he's clumsy, that's no bearing on anything that means much. And sure, her Arts are named so pretty-like, butterflies and jaguars and halos and all sorts of beautifully natural things, but she's not one.

Her jumpsuit suddenly feels far too old, drab like mustard.

"Pyra..."

"Yes?"

Oh, but why would she go and do a stupid thing like that? She can't just...can't just say that.

Can't just reveal who she is, out loud.

Not even to the Aegis. No, especially not to the Aegis.

Then Rex comes back, pockets bulging even more than usual before he can tuck into his pack that Dromarch's been so dutifully guarding.

"Everything alright? Pyra?"

He only nods at Nia - maybe that's a gentleman's flair. Something Gramps taught him, surely.

Or maybe he's afraid of her, because her mask is ugly and cracked and scarred.

How long before it breaks?

Rex offers Pyra a piece of charred sharkmeat. She takes it, and looks distinctly like the person she's enjoying it for isn't herself.