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[daemonized]

ARDYN IZUNIA

Ardyn Izunia. Professor of law. Lord of law. Liege of law. The one grading your papers. Leave a message.

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( old contact post here )

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[daemonized]

[He holds her tight against him, fingers gently kneading into her back. Everything about the gesture is a reminder that he’s solid and he’s here. Even if the universe lurches and spins and memories swirl around them, laughing the whole while, she has him. They have each other, the two of them an unmoving anchor point in a life that keeps pivoting around them at baleful angles.]

I don’t know. And it isn’t fair.

[Words that are useless in their consolation, he knows. But he cannot tell her this will be the last of the unpleasant dreams, when so much is still left unanswered.]

But I’m here for you when such dreams visit and take their toll. Here to listen if you wish to speak about it, or just to hold you if you do not. Anything you need of me. What can I do for you now?

[He’ll be consolation, distraction, someone to vent to. Whatever she needs, he will give every part of himself to make her happy. To stave off the pain in moments like these.]

[erythristic]

Just...be here.

[remind her that she was alive now, that her heart still beat and that her memories and dreams were not the now. Ardyn was real. this house, full of love, sanctuary in the midst of this storm of reality. this was her life. it had to be. the more that this city wanted to drag them back to who they were, the more desperate she feels to cling onto what she has.]

Tell me it's not real. Only a nightmare.

[they know it's not, but it would be nice to hear.]

[daemonized]

[Sometimes the illusion of hearing something comforting is worth the lie, and Ardyn will easily give her what she requests. He can speak the words, as if they are some grand illuminating truth, bolstered by his own lingering desire that they were true. That it all was just a fleeting nightmare, something that the sun would chase away each and every morning.

He tilts his head down, only slightly, just enough to murmur the words into scarlet hair.]

None of it is real. Just a shadow of a person you don’t know, visiting your thoughts at night. A transient specter to be chased away at daybreak.

[And to be defeated, forgotten, in the midst of what was real — their lives here, their friends, the ones which they would call family. The small pleasures that they could reach out and grasp, though they sat in the eerie midst of the eye of a storm.]

And when you wake, I will always be here, waiting for you.