Stars in the Dark - Chapter 35 - Nshi (2024)

Chapter Text

In this chapter: The Lady of Frost slips away

In no time at all had Moenbryda proven herself to not only be a well studied and extremely skilled scholar in her field— and a tremendous boon to their research into experimental aetherology— but also a bright ray of endlessly positive sunshine within the Rising Stones.

In mere hours had she already firmly ingratiated herself among the Scions, taking a trip around their headquarters and greeting everyone with a broad smile and hearty hellos. When Joker offered her a quick dinner and a coffee she took him up on it immediately, grabbing poor Urianger with a muscled arm locked tight around his head and dragging him with her to the kitchens.

Joker and Tataru took it upon themselves to prepare her his signature Leblanc special: Eorzean edition. Which was to say, his best approximation of Sojiro’s coffee-and-curry combo with the ingredients he had on hand.

The large Roegadyn woman ate with gusto, practically shoveling the meal into her mouth with contended vocalizations and a considerable lack of etiquette that left her meeker Elezen partner wincing. Urianger shot Joker a small apologetic grimace from where he was bowed under his hood, picking with far more restraint at his own serving.

“Prithee, do consider observing more decorum, mayhaps.” He muttered, delicately scooping slices of carrot and onion with his spoon.

Moenbryda gave a whinging reply that was muffled under the layers of half-chewed food stuffed in her cheeks. And Joker chuckled as he set the emptied curry pot in the sink.

“It’s fine— there’s no greater compliment for a cook than enthusiastic enjoyment, as far as I’m concerned.”

“There, you see!” Moenbryda retorted at Urianger after a great swallow, prodding his shoulder with her spoon. She washed her now spotless plate down with a hearty gulp of coffee. Her head shot up, a mustache of foam on her lip.

“Okay, I’m sold— this is the best coffee I’ve ever had. And here I thought the brews at the Last Stand had no contestant!”

“I’ll have to tell that to the man who taught me the recipe, when I see him again.” Joker responded with a most triumphant smirk, setting himself down next to her and Urianger with his own mug— it was likely they were all going to be up for a while, after all, “Though I’m surprised to hear Sharlayan has any decent cafes at all. The last person I spoke to about your culinary ideology implied you guys were more interested in nutrition over taste. Way more interested. Blasphemously so.” He added, face darkening at the thought of the atrocious Archon Loaf.

And Moenbryda threw her head back with a booming laugh, “Ah, whoever told you that would sadly be very correct! The proprietor, Dickon— he’s probably the only person on the whole damned island who provides anything close to what an outsider would consider palatable. ‘The final and only bastion of fine dining in all Sharlayan!’, he always says!” She added with a grandiose flair, “I’ll have to get you two in the same room sometime, you’d get along great.”

She put a large hand to the top of his head, ruffling his hair and drastically messing it up. Joker snorted, throwing her arm off and ducking away from her. Ah, so that’s how Alisaie felt when he did it… He was usually a tad taller than a lot of people he met back home, but in this world he regularly found himself drastically outsized. It was an odd feeling.

When she was finished, Moenbryda stood up with a clatter of cutlery, a fist punched into her palm.

“Right, I’m good and caffeinated now! To business!”

With Tataru offering to take over cleaning duty, the three of them met with the others in the solar. There, Minfilia updated their guest on the more pressing of their current problems— the lack of means to follow where Iceheart’s aetheryte had teleported her to.

Moenbryda’s face grew grim as she listened. She closed her eyes, frowning,

“I'm sorry but… if the second aetheryte's been destroyed, then that's that.” She said bluntly. There was a collective moment of tense disappointment from the others, eyes nervously looking to one another, before the Roegedayn woman spoke again, “Is what I would ordinarily say, but… The first aetheryte is definitely still there, right?”

She looked to Joker, who nodded. The Ishgardian forces that weren’t scouring the snow-capped mountains for an alternative route had been keeping a very tight watch on it, lest any other heretics try to make use of it to contact their leader.

And Moenbryda hummed, a hand to her chin, “In that case, there might be a way─ so long as the aetherial current is still flowing.”

Minfilia looked back up, face brightening with tentative hope, “Truly? How?”

“We use the current to recreate the beacon.” Moenbryda declared, raising her index fingers on both hands, “Aetherytes are a bit like lighthouses. We use them to reconstitute our physical forms when crossing the aetherial sea. Without them, we'd lose all sense of direction and our essence would dissipate. However, we don't rely solely on these beacons. There are currents of aether which flow between them─ currents which help guide us to our destination.”

She wobbled her large hands in the air to better illustrate her point, miming a wavy line, “Now, these currents will gradually dwindle away to nothing if an aetheryte is destroyed. But if even a sluggish flow remains, we could theoretically use it to direct a surge of concentrated aether towards the void left by the beacon and thereby fill it up again.”

“Like opening the floodgates to fill a dry riverbed.” Thancred observed from where he leaned against the wall, nodding, “Though, correct me if I'm wrong, would we not need a veritable reservoir of aether to accomplish this?”

Papalymo crossed his arms, “In concert, we might manage to channel a sufficient amount, yet that is not my chief concern. To direct the flow of so great a volume of aether with the requisite precision would be a nigh-impossible task in itself.”

“Indeed,” Y’shtola shared her own doubts, recalling their plot to enter Titan’s lair, “I barely succeeded in facilitating travel for Joker and myself to an unattuned beacon. That which you describe sounds considerably more difficult. “

“And dangerous!” Moenbryda added cheerfully, “Every person who has attempted to teleport in this fashion has died in the process.”

Oh.

“They, however, did not have white auracite at their disposal!”

With a bit of a flourish, Moenbryda reached into a pouch at her side and drew out a bundle of cloth. She pulled the coverings back, exposing a roughly cut hunk of pure white ore. Entirely opaque, it seemed rather unimpressive in the flat light of the solar.

Moenbryda, however, seemed quite proud of herself, “I’d been looking into this at Urianger’s behest. Took me an age to find such a sizable sample. A substance that can channel a veritable mountain of aether!” She set it upon Minfilia’s desk, causing the Scions to lean in around her.

“We had high hopes for it with regards to certain shadowy figures and their most troublesome souls— but I think it serves our purposes here as well.” She continued passionately, “Only downside is that, for all its great capacity, white auracite cannot retain aether for an extended period of time. We would need to infuse it immediately beforehand.”

“I see.” Minfilia tapped at the crystal lightly with a nail, producing a dull clink, “And with this enhanced volume of aether, you believe teleportation along the remnants of the aetherial stream will be possible?”

“Weeeell…” Moenbryda shuffled her broad shoulders, taking the auracite back into her hands, “I'd confidently give this plan better than even odds of success. But there is an undeniable chance of failure, which would result in… catastrophic aetheric dispersion and death, yes.”

She finished her explanation all at once in an awkward rush. Minfilia stiffened. She and the rest of the Scions looked to Joker, their expressions highly troubled.

Because it would be him making the so-tenuous jump through the aetherial stream, wouldn’t it? If Iceheart succeeded in summoning a Primal— and let’s face it, she had both the opportunity and resources— then he was the only one fit to enter her hidden chamber and not immediately end up tempered or killed. It was wholly undeniable that he was simply the most suited for taking down whatever creature her ritual called forth.

Most people would absolutely balk at being used as a guinea pig in such a highly experimental and extremely hypothetical method of teleportation. But Joker wasn’t most people— and, in fact, was quite an accomplished little guinea pig, if you asked Takemi.

So he simply grinned sharply, “I’ve been known to be something of a gambler.” He quipped, recalling a certain cognitive casino and a dangerous bet with his very life on the line. What else was new, really?

Minfilia didn’t look particularly soothed by his declaration. But in lieu of any other options she remained silent, hands folded nervously in her lap.

Moenbryda, however, looked downright ecstatic.

“That’s the spirit!” She cried, raising a triumphant fist, “Let’s roll the dice!”

After receiving a crushing hug from Moenbryda that almost swallowed him entirely, ("Look how tall you’ve gotten! Commander of your own company, too, I hear! Oh, your grandfather would be so proud!”), Alphinaud, still looking terribly out of place in the perpetual Coerthan snow, was filled in on the details of their new plan. He looked somewhat alarmed at the prospect, but agreed that, with little time and no other options, it was a risk they’d simply have to take.

With a finger to his linkpearl, Alphinaud gave orders to the Crystal Braves and Temple Knights, still searching fruitlessly through the western wastes in what was now the dark of night, to withdraw. Leaving the other Scions to take measurements on the output of the Snowcloak aetheryte — the better to ensure the most stable connection possible to the trace of the aetherial stream, and thus minimizing the chances that Joker’s very being would be scattered in unrecoverable fragments across the intangible lifeforce of the planet. Joy!

Lowering his hand from his ear, Alphinaud remained lingering at Joker’s side while he set about his own preparation: downing a large thermos full of extra and very black coffee he’d brought with him to attempt to prepare for a fight in the dead of night. Hopefully the high concentration of caffeine didn’t drastically alter his aether composition somehow and fatally throw off the Scions’ calculations… although that would be kinda funny.

Joker glanced to the side as he gulped down the remaining drops at the bottom. Though he was trying not to show it, the Elezen boy was looking at him… oddly. Joker frowned at him, tilting his head.

“What?”

“‘Tis nothing.” Alphinaud replied quickly, looking away, “Merely that I trust that... By which I mean to say…”

He broke off from his halting speech with a cough, hand to his mouth as his feet shuffled in the snow.

Awww, was that an awkward attempt to express concern for him? How uncharacteristically considerate, given now unintentionally self-absorbed the boy could often accidentally be. Joker smiled at him reassuringly.

“It's no more dangerous than what I usually do. Thanks though.” He added, deciding to go for it and give Alphinaud’s hair a mussin’. He didn’t seem like the kind who’d secretly enjoy it like his sister, but Moenbryda’s lording of her height over him had put him in the mood to bully someone shorter. As expected, Alphinaud’s face scrunched rather comically, pulling away with a slight whine of protest.

“T-that’s more than enough reassurance, please! I may be younger than you, but I am no child!”

“Yes, commander sir. Sorry, sir.” Joker snickered.

“The others are waiting for us at the aetheryte.” Alphinaud huffed, his attempt at tenderness vanishing as he smoothed down his clothes with a touch of petulance, “After you, Scion.”

At the base of the quiet and still crystal that Iceheart had used to escape now lurked Moenbryda— bent down in the snow beside a lantern and bundled in a thick coat, grumbling as she took some final measurements with her aetherometer. Joker snuck up behind her. Pressed a second thermos he was carrying against her cheek. She started, then groaned with relief, latching onto it and hugging it to herself like a hot water bottle.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” She practically wept, “I can’t stand this bloody cold. You’ve saved my life!”

“Glad to be of service.” He grinned.

“Especially kind of you, since I’m, you know, risking yours and all.” Moenbryda added after taking a most satisfying swig, “I truly am sorry about that. But I can’t think of any other way that’s also quick.”

And Joker shrugged, “It’ll be fine. Not the first time I’ve risked my life on a mission.”

“Spoken like a true hero!” She cheered. He tried not to show his distaste for the word as Moenbryda stood up. She threw back the rest of her coffee in one great gulp, before turning to the others, “Right then! The rest of you gather round!”

The Scions did just that, peering into the chunk of auracite that Moenbryda again took into her hand. She bent down low, the better to allow the shorter among them (mainly Papalymo) access to its faceted surface. At her bidding, the others brought their own hands up. Joker watched on, a little dazzled, as streams of light flowed between each person’s fingertips and into the crystalline substance, imbuing their very lifeforce into its depths. Moenbryda held steady against a shiver as the auracite lit up, the white shining brightly.

“That should be enough!” She called out after a solid minute, voice somewhat strained. The rest of the Scions pulled back, the light flowing from their bodies petering out, faces pale and breathing labored, energy thoroughly spent from giving away so much of themselves.

Moenbryda wasted no time in raising the glowing auracite to the facets of aetheryte protruding from under the layers of ice. It resonated with the aether inside the stone with a keening hum, lighting up once more as the magic force jumped from one vessel to another. Until the shimmer faded entirely from the auracite and the crystal beneath the ice danced a vibrant blue-white.

Moenbryda let out a tired breath of triumphant laughter, “Hah! It worked…! I think.”

Not the most reassuring comment, but hey. She cleared her throat, turning to him, “Alright, Joker! Try attuning to the aetheryte now. Feel for the current and see if you can locate the beacon.”

Now it was his turn. Closing his eyes, Joker pressed a hand against the surface of the now quietly humming aetheryte.

He had to confess— he had never been the best at this. But ever since Lahabrea had (almost?) killed him, he’d found his natural affinity for feeling out the perpetual stream of energy that flowed through this world had increased by leaps and bounds. So it was with much more confidence than his first hesitant little attempt at aetheryte attunement that Joker reached outside of himself. Felt his way past his fingertips to the buzzing crystal underneath them, and then beyond. He followed the flow, letting it sweep his mind away. Sought out a bright spark at the very end of the dancing trail that the aether offered by his friends had laid out for him— a glittering path through the dark.

A source of light bloomed bright against his eyelids, a gentle thrum that pulled at his being just a little. He hummed aloud, “Yeah… yeah, I think I’ve got it.” He slowly opened his eyes, lingering phantom colors flickering against the white snow.

Alphinaud nodded, the act nearly tipping his heavy head forward, “We have done all we can, Joker.” He said, fighting back a yawn, “For now, let us withdraw. You must seek out the beacon we have created. If, by the grace of the Twelve, you arrive safely, you must stop Iceheart before she summons Shiva.”

The others offered similarly weary but genuine words of support. Including Yda, who attempted to give him an encouraging slap on the back that ended up being closer to a weak pawing, “G-good luck, Joker!” Came her warbled voice between a mighty yawn.

He gently nudged her, “Stop it, you’ll make me start yawning too.”

“I can’t—can’t help it!” She protested haltingly as she gave another one, “I can barely keep my eyes open!”

Joker shook his head, “You guys are so lucky I brought extra coffee with me.” He said, reaching for what was now a third thermos— It wasn’t excessive, it was thinking ahead!

“Oooh, gimme!” Yda grabbed it from him, twisting the top off and immediately downing a solid gulp’s worth. At her side did Papalymo and Y’shtola glare at her from half-lidded and jealous eyes.

Thancred chuckled weakly, giving Joker his signature firm pat on the shoulder, “I have no doubt you’ll be fine, Ren.” He said airily, “You have a knack for surviving things that should rightly end you. All the same— good luck, friend.”

“I, too, must offer you my sincerest well wishes.”

Joker heard the snow crunch behind him, a little surprised to see Aymeric himself had come all the way down here. Though his ceremonial armor seemed a touch out of place in the gloom of the frigid cave, he did not look the least bit daunted by his surroundings. Joker mused over his initial impression of him— his strong handshake grip, the way he carried himself so easily against the weight of his heavy gear. It seemed he was indeed a leader not afraid to take to the field.

Aymeric gave the Scions a warm smile, his second-in-command stoic as ever at his side.

“Ishgard faces an unprecedented threat. Yet in our hour of need, it is not her knights who stand poised to defend her.” The Lord Commander spoke, a hand on his heart and his head dipped in solemn gratitude, “Ren Amamiya, Warrior of Light, savior of Eorzea─ your deeds this day shall not be forgotten. Where others would flee, you choose to remain. Where others would falter, you rise to the challenge. Where others would use their gifts for selfish ends, you wield yours in service to a greater cause.”

He lifted his head, meeting Joker’s eyes firmly, “May Halone bless you with good fortune and see you safely home.”

And Joker gave his thanks, a little puzzled but grateful. Let the man shake his hand again, noting a genuine sparkle of admiration in his blue eyes.

Hmm. Maybe this guy was alright after all. Maybe.

Nodding, Joker turned back to the column of ice at the end of the cave. Fighting down any lingering doubt, he took a breath, touching his hand to the nearest crystal cluster that broke the frosted surface. He looked back over his shoulder at the many faces peering at him with concern.

As Moenbryda had said— time to roll the dice.

“Save some coffee for me, yeah?” He said, winking.

And Joker let himself go, allowing the aetherial flow to carry him away.

He tumbled so dizzyingly against splashes of color, tossed this way and that like a boat adrift in a stormy sea. With mentally gritted teeth (his real ones having been surely reduced to but specks of transient light), Joker held the core of himself steady. Lurched himself towards the direction of the brilliant beacon ahead— so aptly compared by Moenbryda to a lighthouse. It was simple in theory— the flood of aether that carried him flowed but one way. He just had to hold himself together…

Everything spun as Joker felt flat ground spread out suddenly beneath his feet. For a moment, bracing against a sudden rush of cold air, he thought his vision was still flooded with aether, watching streams of color undulated against a black expanse above him. But they remained even after he blinked— no, that was the open sky. And lighting up the dark of night was a show of dazzling coloured lights dancing among the stars. A beautiful aurora.

He lowered his gaze. Beneath the spectrum was a circular stage. An amphitheater, composed of stone and fringed with ringed tiers of seating. And arranged around them, almost like a captive audience, were clusters of shimmering crystals. The very same stolen from the Fortemps caravan and elsewhere, now placidly reflecting the rainbow lights from above on their glossy surfaces.

“You should never have come here, Warrior of Light.”

Iceheart’s long silver hair spilled down her bent shoulders and onto the cold floor. She was one one knee, a clenched hand to her forehead in the Eorzean style of prayer.

She let out a soft sigh from her painted lips. Drew herself slowly to her feet. The expression on her face as she turned to face him was disappointed, but unsurprised.

“I labor only to forge a lasting peace. A peace you would deny us out of ignorance and blind faith.”

Joker remained undaunted, poised for the fight he knew would be coming, as the heretic’s leader turned to face him fully. Her pale eyes were cold and hard as her brow furrowed slightly.

“…No matter. If it is our fate to be at odds, then it is mine to strike you down.” Her proud voice carried so strongly, echoing through the theater, “We whom gods and men have forsaken shall be the instruments of our own deliverance!”

And with that grand declaration did she spread her arms wide. A supplicating gesture, beseeching the waiting crystals.

They hummed brightly, casting a spectrum of speckled color across the stones as the lights arching in the sky blazed yet brighter. Joker felt the temperature plummet suddenly, followed by a crackling sound as a coating of frost spread thickly across the stone floor of the stage.

And Iceheart stood tall and proud and entirely unfazed at the center of it all, as the aether that flowed from the glowing crystals did not pool into the air as Joker had expected— but into her.

His eyes widened as the Elezen’s body became engulfed in pale blue light. As the keening screech of grating ice echoed, erupting in droves from between the stone tiles, growing and entangling with each other like vines. He watched, awed, while the ice slowly began to envelop the woman’s body from the bottom up, rising from the toes of her boots, to her legs, her torso…

“Partake of my flesh— fill this vessel with your light!” Icehear cried out, the creeping rime almost up to her neck now, “Walk amongst your brothers and sisters once more!”

She tipped as much of her head as she could to the sky, her singular free hand raised high above, as if beckoning the heavens. Her eyes lit up.

“O Saint Shiva, still the hatred within our hearts and bless us with eternal grace!”

And with that final proclamation was Iceheart swallowed entirely in her very namesake. Joker squinted as the pillars of entwined ice glowed brightly, entirely blanking out the sight of the woman held within.

There came the impression of a face. Of a multitude of uncanny eyes boring into him from all angles, entirely aglow with white and repeated in countless reflections that danced across the facets of the ice.

And then all at once did they shatter.

Joker brought his hands up to shield his face as shards of ice flew at him, cutting into his coat, nicking the skin.

And when he lowered them did he see the form given to the heretics’ Saint Shiva.

Much of her was still so very ‘Iceheart’— the same shape to the face, the pointed Elezen ears, the flowing silver hair. But her skin was now a pale blue, producing a strong contrast with her painted lips. She bore a ring of icicles upon her brow like a martyr’s crown. Her gown had been traded for tight-fitting armor, and a sheer silk cape that split into two streams, dancing with pinks and blues and purples as it waved out behind her in the wind, like the aurora in the sky above.

Her inhuman glowing eyes fixed upon him, dark lips quirked in a smirk.

Joker breathed out in surprise, breath fogging in the cold air ahead of him.

Somehow, Iceheart had just done… something not unlike what he could do. Invoked the essence of a Primal into her body, her very form shape-shifting in the process. And what was more— she did not appear to be especially tempered, seeming to retain her own will.

Did she somehow possess a power like his? Some sort of… Eorzean equivalent to his Wild Card? Or was this again another instance of the nature of Primals being far more versatile than the Scions had initially surmised?

He supposed such speculation was irrelevant at the moment, cautious gaze trained upon the figure of the vengeful woman in trappings of furious ice, the tips of her heeled boots alighting feather-soft upon the frost coating the amphitheater stage as she lowered herself back to the earth.

Iceheart— Shiva — fixed him with an icy glare, her head tipped back to take him in with constrained contempt. And Joker silently drew a pair of daggers, crossing them over his arms. Carefully shifted his footing.

The heel of Shiva’s boot clacked loudly upon the ice. Her stomp sent a ripple through the frosted stone. And in its wake did great spires of ice erupt from the ground, spiraling into the air, tips jagged and deathly sharp. Joker threw himself forward, weaving through them as each spire burst forth, lunged directly for his body and attempting to impale him.

He ducked and leapt and twisted, advancing forward as he dodged each strike. Among the chaotic eruptions did one rupture through the stones at a low angle, aiming to spear through his legs. Just like when fighting Titan. Well, he was ready for that this time.

He instead leapt upon it, kicking off the flat side and using it as leverage to spring above the rest of the spikes, his knives pulled back as he made for Shiva’s neck.

There was the faintest scowl to her lips. She waved an arm. And the very air ahead of Joker suddenly solidified. A swirl of woven frost formed a barrier that he crashed against, repelling him back to the earth.

He caught himself easily enough, rolling and balancing himself upon his heels. But Shiva wasted no time in countering. Her sharp nails cut the air as she waved her hands, as if conducting the cold itself.

And a burst of frigid winds howled directly at him, sending his coattails flapping chaotically as he desperately shielded his face. He felt an icy rime begin to gather upon his extremities, his fingers stiffening, shoulders and knees creaking against a coating of ice.

The cold pierced easily through his coat as he was pushed further and further back by the howling winds, the soles of his boots skidding on the ice. He could already feel Arsène’s instinctive repulsion, the cold stinging so sharply against his latent affinities.

He pulled his central Persona further into the depths of himself, wincing against the bite of winter winds that continued to gnaw down to his bones. Well, if she wanted to play with Ice, then there was only one proper counter for that…

“Ifrit!” Joker called into himself, throwing his head back as his mask burned blue and melted down his face. He hunched forward as the azure flames poured down his body, lips pulled back, canines lengthening. Horns stretched from his head, spires from his spine, their glowing heat piercing through the ambient chill and billowing steam in their wake.

With an exhale of hot, hot breath, Joker manifested Zantetsuken into his palm. Allowed Ifrit’s aether to bleed into the steel, the form of the blade again twisting and curling to black, heated cracks running along its length. He held the handle tight in gnarled hands, angling the tip at the other Primal-possessed warrior.

Shiva’s persistent composure faltered a little at the sight. She grit her teeth in a slight grimace.

“Very well! Those who have taken up the sword shall perish by the sword!”

And she raised a delicate hand skyward as particles of icy aether danced to her palm. It undulated in the air, forming a growing length of ice that twisted into the shape of a long bade, the sharp edge gleaming.

Cold winds tossed the combatants’ hair and clothes as their eyes locked. And then the two lunged at each other, weapons meeting center-stage.

The resulting clash was almost musical, piercing shrieks and flying embers, again and again meeting blow-for-blow, blade against blade, magicked ice against heated steel. They pressed their equally determined faces in close, two pairs of glowing eyes glaring each other down from either side of their crossed swords.

Joker braced himself, digging his boots into the stones. His arms tensed as he offered more of himself for the Primal blade to drink. Ifrit’s flame blazed brighter, crackling along the edge of the steel. The ice beneath the supernatural edge sizzled as Zantetsuken at last tore through Shiva’s sword, blade shorn cleanly in two.

The tip that spun off sliced through flesh as it flew, cutting an awful gash in Shiva’s arm. She stumbled, dropping the said remains of her makeshift sword. The handle clattered to the ground, ice shattering to pieces.

A clawed fist flew at Shiva’s face before she could react. It struck her cheek hard, sending her to the floor. Her hair and cape spilled around her as she met the stones.

And Joker stood over her, the flame-infused Zantetsuken raised to this time properly take her head.

But Shiva did not seem particularly alarmed. With a composed, flat gaze, she lunged forward as he plunged his blade down.

The tip of Zentetsuken’s blade instead met the floor with a clang. Shiva rolled, snatching up a fallen shard of her sword and bringing it upwards — towards his neck. Joker barely dodged it, the sharp end driven deep into his shoulder instead. His sword arm spasmed, twitching fingers dropping his weapon.

Shiva drew herself back to her feet as a grimacing Joker gripped the fragment of ice with his other hand, roughly yanking it out of himself with a spray of blood. She lifted an arm languidly to the air, the motion almost serene. As if she aimed to caress the skies.

Then, making almost mocking eye contact with him as he shook his dark hair out of his face, she smiled.

And clicked her fingers.

The sound echoed, reverberating across the ice. A surging burst of frost rippled through the entire arena. It struck Joker in the chest, sending him flying back. He tumbled along the ground, Primal obsidian claws desperately gouging into the ice and scoring deep grooves as he scrambled and slid.

Shiva raised her hands yet higher, body trembling with the effort to pool her aether into form. The rippling deluge of ice magic strengthened further. It pierced through Ifrit’s being like thousands of tiny needles, rapidly dispelling Joker’s transformation in horrible waves of bitter cold with each pulse. The raised protruding spires began to fade from his back, their heat dying with them.

Joker staggered forward against the force, his de-clawed fingers numb and his joints growing stiffer by the second. He took a stumbling step forward on dragging legs that he could hardly feel as patches of hoarfrost snaked up them. It crackled and creaked and whined as it spread further and further, creeping up to his knees and elbows.

His already injured right arm in particular bore the brunt of it, the weeping wound allowing swifter entry into his body and freezing over so solidly. Until he could feel it no longer, dropping heavily to his side as a useless, immobile slab.

Cold, cold, so, so cold…

Joker hissed, breath strained from the numbing chill tearing into his lungs. His torso was wracked with tremors as he desperately dragged his heavy, frozen legs, grating terribly across the ground. Ilm by ilm, he hauled himself closer to where Shiva watched him placidly, hands still high in the air. He raised his remaining arm, fingers splaying, as he tried feverishly to grab at her.

But the conjured storm persisted, the ice hardening further and further. And Joker inevitably lost his balance. He tipped forward. Fell heavily to his knees, legs frozen completely to the floor, arm dangling like a lead weight.

He threw his head up desperately. Watched Shiva’s expression soften as she at last lowered her arms, halting her attack. She stepped towards his shivering form, heels clicking. Reached out a hand. Her sharp nails tenderly traced his cheek.

“Be at peace in this stillness, Warrior. Embrace the serenity…” She crooned as he flinched at her touch, “Renounce the hatreds that consume you…”

Unable to move the rest of his body, Joker snapped his mouth at her fingers, what little remained of Ifrit’s fangs nearly biting them off.

She drew back in alarm, blood dripping down her hand. And then her eyes narrowed as that wicked smile returned.

Shiva raised her leg. And then Joker felt the sharp heel of her boot dig into the top of his skull. With just the slightest smirk, she pressed down, grinding his face into the cold floor.

“...And scatter them like dust in the wind.” She finished with faux-serenity, head tilted with detached amusem*nt.

He hissed, teeth clenched tightly. Awkwardly forced his head up as far as he could against the pressure upon it, shoulders shaking with the struggle.

Snarling, Joker forced the more mobile of his so painfully stiff arms to his face. Let his fumbling, frozen fingers grip weakly at the edge of his mask. And with great effort did he wrench it off. His mask vanished in a flash of blue flame, pooling down his arm and twisting his limb to stone.

He slammed Titan’s mighty fist upon the earth as best he could. The reverberations splintered the ice beneath his hand. Razor shards flew through the air. Shiva was forced to step back with arms drawn protectively over her face from the sharp debris.

With her boot no longer forcing him down, Joker pushed himself upright, horribly lopsided as he dragged the great weight of a completely immobilized arm and two legs along the floor. He fought back a shiver of pain and cold and dread. The ice had claimed too much of them, fused deep into his skin. He couldn’t simply tear his way out, lest he shatter his remaining limbs entirely to pieces in the process.

But then again… maybe that was exactly what he wanted to do.

The aether that danced upon this stage of theirs… it was still volatile and plenty. He could make use of it, yes.

Not wishing to linger on the potential of how badly this could go wrong, he immediately followed through with his abrupt and very mad plan.

Shiva simply stared as Joker’s mouth curled into a wide grin that belied his pain. As he brought his free arm to his frozen one. Wrapped Titan’s stone fingers around the point where the skin met ice.

And pulled.

His frozen arm shore entirely away from the rest of him, crackling and screeching— a sound echoed by Joker’s cry of pain. Shiva gasped, mouth hanging wide open, as a shaking Joker let the severed limb drop to the floor, shattering apart on contact into small pieces.

Wrenching his trapped legs, Joker fell forward as his knees came free from the ice by separating entirely from what lay beneath it. He staggered, hair falling over his face and panting from the pain and effort to hold himself up with only jagged stumps.

And then he lifted his face to Shiva’s, eyes blazing yellow, cheeks pale, shaking and weak— but still grinning as he faced her with only a single arm attached to his torso.

His mask again burned bright as he dove deep, deep into his heart. As he called as much of the surrounding crystals’ aether to him as he could.

“Phoenix!” He screamed, voice woven with the cry of a bird. Let a twining swirl of both blue and gold fire completely engulf his entire being.

His back arched as a crimson feathered wing erupted from below his torn elbow, a matching pair unfurling from his spine. Talons grew from his severed legs. He drew himself up upon them, embers flickering, body blazing with flame and golden light.

So startled and appalled was she by her foe’s self-inflicted injuries that Shiva was taken completely off-guard. Leaving Joker and Phoenix to pounce. He sprung on their beastly feet, striking for her head. She stumbled back, desperately attempting to lift herself into the air on aetherial currents. Joker’s claws caught against just enough of her face to tear deep gashes. He felt her nose crunch under his talons. Surprisingly warm red blood flowed, splashing upon both his face and the ground.

And as Joker landed crouched upon the ground, feathers spilling crimson and bright among the blood, did the tip of his tongue trace at the droplets near his mouth.

Shiva was in the air again now, her cape flowing like streamers behind her. Joker tensed in anticipation as she lifted her beckoning arms again. Vivid blue aether pooled, forming more stalactites against the night sky. Anshe threw her arms down, retaliating with a fresh wave of projectiles.

Though the display was impressive, the icicles eerupted in the air ilms from Joker’s face as he leapt back, magic spent before they could quite pierce his flesh.

Joker swallowed hard. He could so keenly feel it call to him now, dancing in waves from her body with each increasingly labored attack. In the blood that trickled down her hand and face. The Primal’s aether, beginning to leak out from its host. To deplete.

He grinned fiercely. Iceheart was rapidly using up her borrowed power— Time to keep tiring her out.

The surrounding ice emitted a sharp ring as Joker gave a familiar draconic roar. The ground beneath his taloned feet vibrated. So deeply entwined with Phoenix was the essence of Bahamut that together they easily allowed the dreadwyrm’s aether to spill and swirl and merge with the great firebird’s. He felt a crown of horns circle his brow, a new set of fangs protruding even sharper than Ifrit’s.

A half-transformation not unlike what had occurred to Louisoix, the golden fringes of the Phoenix's crimson wings melting to a bright cyan.

With Bahamut’s power in the mix now, the three took to the dark skies, chasing after their quarry with feathered tails streaming behind them. Joker’s glowing eyes squinted against the snowstorm that attempted to beat down on them, Phoenix’s flames cutting through the chill.

Shiva twisted her lithe body in the air, an elegant motion that dodged his lunging strike, her split cape fluttering wildly. Together with his own Primals did Joker wheel through the skies, adjusting their angle and diving back. Shiva raised her arms defensively, catching his claws upon her arm guards.

Against the aurora did the two blaze in streams of starkly contrasting blue and red, twirling and twisting like comets as they chased each other down in a bizarre dance.

Forming herself a spear of ice, Shiva twirled in the air. Dove at him with the pointed edge angled for his stomach. Though it shredded his coat and grazed the skin, tearing a bloody gash, Joker caught it. Gripped the ice tight in Bahamut’s claws, fingers tightening until it shattered.

Winges flared, he let loose a blast of cyan light—- a sudden beam that struck her head-on.

Shiva gasped in pain. She hovered unsteadily for a moment, fighting to remain airborne with her magic, before suddenly plummeting. The human-turned-Primal dropped back to the earth with a loud crack, her transformed body striking the stones hard.

She merely lay for a moment, dazed, her silken cape spilling around her. Her glassy eyes widened as a bright orange light fell upon her paled face.

And Shiva frantically sprung back to her feet with a gasp, her hands splayed in front of her. With trembling arms did she just barely erect herself a new shield, frantically attempting to counter the ball of flame that fell upon her with her own aether.

Shiva hissed as the ice she’d woven to defend her body thawed rapidly against the intense heat. Not wishing to let up his assault, Joker followed through unrelentingly. Continued to pelt more and more attacks her way from conjured flame, a flurry of meteors streaking fiery tails raining upon the amphitheater.

Their impact shattered the stone tiles, leaving craters at Shiva’s feet. She desperately held out against the blazing assault, body curled protectively as she again tried to spread her shields wide enough to cover her from the constant barrage. But though she succeeded in halting the worst of the pounding blows from reaching her body, the fireballs were beginning to shatter through her weakening barriers faster than she could put them up.

And inevitably she faltered. One particularly intense blast blew clean through her defenses, shattering them like glass. She dropped to one knee as debris from the ice and cracked stone alike flew wildly. It struck Shiva’s body, clipping her forehead, tearing into her skin, a fresh wave of blood streaming from her injuries.

And as Joker watched her from above, red wings beating hard to just keep himself aloft, did he feel a sudden and oh so palpable wave of hunger.

Bahamut, his mighty being always so starved for more aether, writhed against his soul. The feeling burned a pit in his stomach, bringing with it a tumble of chaotic thoughts. That power Iceheart was using should be his.

Mine, mine, ours…!

They snapped their wings like the crack of a whip. The time was right—- Iceheart’s defenses were down, Shiva’s aether bleeding out. They would steal the Lady of Frost from her body.

Then They were streaking towards her, more of Bahamut’s draconic features shining through the transformation as spikes unfurled along their back, as slitted yellow eyes pierced into Shiva’s startled face.

“My brother…” Shiva whispered, staring into his feral irises as they grew larger before her eyes— looking beyond them. To the being that howled in the depths of his soul, “Why? Why do you side with them? With him?”

And the conglomerate entity they had become threw themselves at Iceheart as Shiva's frantic Primal aether flickered and thinned from her in waves. They wrapped their arms around her torso. She gasped, her white eyes wide and fearful. Thrashed in his hold, her features almost seeming to distort. Cerulean lights whirled ever more frantically as she desperately fought to tighten her hold on the heretic Saint’s spilling aether, to keep her form bound to her body.

But They held tighter. Reached deeper. Bahamut’s claws dug through her armor, into her flesh. And together they opened their mouth wide, bringing their shared fangs down on the side of her neck. Felt her stiffen then convulse beneath their jaws as they drank greedily of her very being.

Shiva threw her head back, howling, eyes wet with tears.

“Forgive them, my beloved…!”

And the surge of aether that rushed into him bloomed painfully against Joker’s forehead, like sharp spots of light that prickled and burned, so, so cold that they were hot again. He held tight against the bitter sting of ice and pain and loss and feeling—-

Sh e tak es a br ea t h .

Snow so ……...nst bare, red………. shivering and cold, cold, so, so cold. Everything is ………..end, out here ….. traces of her will soon be …..er footsteps sw………..

…..as the snow falls……..almost feels …….

The ic….. so cold…... bu……… crowing whispers of de……

………….pths of her heart, th………… oice scream…. to let it all g…….nder to oblivion…….does not come for her. No…………..

…….iserable world still has it……….

And if Death sti…….. en ……th she will……………

He returns to himself against searing bursts of colored light.

Primal power thoroughly and absolutely exhausted, the fire that sustained him abruptly dies out. The feathers encasing his temporary limbs fall away, revealing completely intact and very human hands and feet, gloves and boots and all. Limbs formed anew by the power of Rebirth.

Joker’s clawless grip slackens, falters, as blood dribbles from between his again rounded teeth.

With nothing to hold her up, it’s just Iceheart now that collapses to the floor beneath him, her white hair fanning out behind her. The miniscule slip of her irises visible behind fluttering eyelids are no longer aglow and a healthy warm blush from flowing blood has returned to her once blue skin.

And Joker drops limply to the ground beside her, fragments of memory dancing across his mind and so thoroughly scattering his overwhelmed senses. Both lying on their sides, they writhe in equal scattered jolts of pain. Joker hisses, a hand against his forehead, a sharp sting appropriately like the end of an icepick digging between his eyes.

After some time mentally floundering against the stabbing ache, he shudders, exhaling a breath that left no condensation in the cold air. Felt ice flow through his veins enough to prickle his restored limbs. But not enough to… to envelop him. To become one with him. There was a new presence swirling around that sharp point of pain in his head, certainly. But it was weak. Its voice fluttering and transient, like drifting flakes of snow that melted all too soon at contact with the blaze of his being.

It seemed he hadn’t fully absorbed the power of Shiva from her. Was his hold not strong enough? Or was the essence of the Primal simply too tightly bound to its summoner?

Regardless, he had forced her transformation to dissipate. And that would be enough for now.

Iceheart, also once again fully human, was similarly curled against the stones at his side. Her breath came in tandem with his own in ragged heaves. She slowly pulled her fingers away from her still bloodied face. Narrowed her pale eyes at him.

“Y-you…” She gasped, “You…”

Steadying herself with a gulping breath, she staggered first to her feet, hair falling over her face. Glared daggers at him from between the trailing strands, fists clenched tight. A cold fury.

“Fool... Blind, bloody fool.” She hissed, “You of all people should understand the suffering war begets. That no sacrifice is too great if it brings an end to the violence!”

“Mine is the righteous cause!” Iceheart swung out an arm, the act nearly unbalancing her shaking legs, “You fight in a war you do not understand— a pawn of liars and schemers. And they are no less ignorant than you! Following the creed of their fathers without question, never thinking to ask why… Trapped in a delusion of their own creation and blind to the truth!” She finished, nearly spitting.

Joker groaned as he pushed himself onto his knees. She stared down at him, her furious face growing sad.

“Warrior of Light… redemption is not beyond us.” Her voice softened, “We who walk before may lead those who walk after. Seek the Keeper of the Lake. See with eyes unclouded.”

She staggered back, a sudden gust of frigid wind catching her hair and billowing the strands of silver like a fluttering cape. A burst of snow blanked out Joker’s vision with white. He peered desperately through it as Iceheart tilted her head back to the slowly brightening sky, embracing the gale.

“Do… do not squander Mother's gift.” She murmured, hoarfrost catching upon her the tips of her fingers. And Joker, pushing himself to his tired feet, watched as she began to fade away to glittering specks of aether. Her being thinned down to ephemeral lights that danced with the snow on the wind, carried away upon the breeze as it faded to nothing.

“Hear... Feel... Think…”

And Joker, now upright, stared into the clear, wide dawn sky above him. Those words…

But Iceheart was gone again, the trace powers she still seemed to hold enough to spirit her away into the early morning sunlight as it began to spill in glittering beams upon the surrounding ice.

Joker swallowed. Head far too light and limbs far too heavy to dwell on things right now, he decided to focus his efforts elsewhere. Namely, tapping back into what remained of the aetherial current where the amphitheater's aetheryte had once been— and hopefully keeping his head on straight enough to not lose it in the Lifestream. He’d had enough of his body parts come off tonight, thanks…

With great, great effort did he manage to hold himself together enough to be safely whisked away on swirling incorporeality, until he was returned again to the tunnels under Snowcloak. Joker sluggishly stepped into solidity among the surrounding walls of ice, spying a familiarly large figure.

Moenbryda, evidently determined to stay and keep watch at the aetheryte, gasped as she saw him. She ran forward, arms outstretched.

“By the Twelve, you're alive!” She cried out, “I-I mean, of course you're alive! Why wouldn't you be?”

He gave a lopsided smirk as she gripped his shoulders, frantically looking him up and down.

“S-so, how are we after the teleport? Not missing any limbs, I see.” He gave a little bark of slightly hysterical laughter at that, which mildly alarmed her, “Ah, and, uh… cognitively? Faculties all in order? No… ghostly afterimages or anythi— Oh, you’re bleeding!” She suddenly interrupted herself with alarm, raising a hand to her bottom lip and miming wiping at something with her thumb.

Ah, right. Iceheart’s blood. Feeling vaguely disturbed with himself now that he had pulled his mind down from Bahamut’s feral frenzy, he swiped the bloodstain from his mouth.

“It’s… nothing. From the fight, not the teleport.” He said. Eager to move on, Joker turned back to the aetheryte.

“Iceheart got away. She summoned Shiva into her body and transformed herself. I was able to draw a lot of the Primal’s aether out of her, but not all of it. She might still be able to do it again, I don’t know.”

He looked back to Moenbryda, surprised to find her staring at him with wide and vaguely concerned eyes, a frown creasing her face.

“And… you're certain about that, are you ? …You’re sure you're not injured? Head trauma has been known to cause hallucinations, you see…”

“Hey!” Joker pointed an objecting finger at her, “I mean, yes, I did get a bit banged up. That’s part of the process. But it’s also besides the point, because I know what I saw!”

At least, he hoped he knew what he saw. Between the near-vampiric urge to bite down on Shiva’s jugular and, to a lesser extent, the Kupo Nut incident, Joker actually did have some cause for concern about the influence of Primals on his mind of late.

Moenbryda still seemed highly doubtful, but she decided to relent, her hands raised in surrender, “Look, if you say that's what you saw, I believe you. It's just that I've never heard of a Primal being summoned like that before.”

“It’s not that weird.” Joker grumbled, “I can do it too.”

And feeling a bit petty, he demonstrated by raising an arm, converting it again before the scholar’s astonished eyes into a fiery talon. He flexed the claws, licking embers flickering weakly against the chilled air. He’d have done a more dramatic demonstration to really hammer home his point, but it was the only part of him he was really up to shifting or priming or whatever right now.

But it certainly got the point across. Moenbryda stumbled back, gawking at his newly transfigured limb.

“Wha— Nobody told me that!” She squeaked, flapping her arms, “That might have been nice to know! Oh, Urianger is in for it when I get back…”

Together they trudged back through the heretics’ now thoroughly routed hideout, winding their way back through the frigid tunnels. Joker fought back a yawn (Thanks, Yda!), his head feeling so very foggy now that the animal adrenaline and wild hunger that had driven him towards the end of the fight had long faded.

Moenbrdya breathed out in relief at the slice of light creeping in from the narrow entrance up ahead. She squeezed her way through, and, after a flicker of noticeable hesitation, reached out a hand to help haul Joker over the frost-slick stones.

“So…” She hummed a little nervously as she pulled him along, “Any other shocking revelations about your good self that I should know before we continue working together?”

“Nothing big.” Joker shrugged, tired legs slipping a little as he stumbled through the crevice, “Just that I’m from another universe.”

And after a long pause did Moenbryda put her head into her hands, groaning loudly, “Sure! Yes! Why not?! Today’s been strange enough as it is!”

The moment they fully emerged from the tunnels under Snowcloak, blinking against the flurry of falling white, did an urgent voice ring out.

“Let me through! Let me through, godsdamnit!”

Oh— Haurchefant was here now. And barrelling towards them, half bowed under the weight of… wow, at least six fellow knights that were desperately trying to hold him back.

“Commander, sir, ‘tis too dangerous for you to advance further until we know for certain the Primal is—” Cried one, his desperate pleas interrupted as, with a renewed burst of strength, Haurchefaunt shucked him and his companions off. He rushed forwards until he came to a halt before Joker and Moenbryda, skidding on the ice and staring at him with eyes utterly agog.

And then Haurchfant lunged at him, grabbing tight to his shoulders and practically lifting him off his feet. Joker could only stare as the toes of his boots hovered above the ground. Head still swirling from the long night, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Urianger in Moenbryda’s bear hug.

“What were you thinking, Joker?!” The Elezen cried, voice pitched with genuine anxiety, “Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which might allow you to enter Iceheart's lair— knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva anyway...?”

He let go, setting a slightly wobbling Joker back on his feet, the snow crunching under him.

“And then─ and then─!” Haurchefant continued, waving his arms to the heavens in a show of exasperation as he began to pace, “Engaging the abomination in mortal combat?! By the Fury, 'tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages! Would that I had been there to fight by your side!”

He came to a stop, whirling on the spot and shoving an accusing finger at Joker’s chest, “Yet here I was forced to wait─ condemned to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable eternity! I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…!”

And Joker blinked, completely dumbfounded. He didn’t know the man was that concerned for him. The Scions aside, most people who sent him off into battle these days hadn’t been especially troubled by his possible death. And he didn’t really see why Haurchefant would care enough for him to buck that trend.

Yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty for causing him such distress. Joker ducked his head in meekly between his shoulders like a turtle withdrawing into its shell, a hand scratching at his neck.

“I… um. Sorry…”

And Haurchefant sighed, dropping his hand and slowly breaking into a gentle smile, “...But you are here now, and that is what truly matters. Let us move on. Ser Aymeric wished to have words with you and Master Alphinaud in private. They both awaits us at Camp Dragonhead. I shall accompany you there once you are fit to travel.”

He turned to his still somewhat baffled men, now calmly asking that they prepare an extra Chocobo for travel. They gave awkward salutes, scrambling to comply.

Moenbryda raised her eyebrows as a Fortemps knight flew past her, fumbling with the straps of a saddle.

“I’ll meet up with you at Mor Dhona when you’re done. I trust you’ll be fine in the company of that handsome lad of yours. I think he likes you, wonder-boy.” She added, winking at him. Joker let out a tired laugh, shaking his head.

And with Haurchefant helping him atop a freshly saddled Chocobo did the two make their way back to the camp, braced against the howling wind. Joker tried not to let his eyes drift closed as he gripped the reins tightly, the rocking motion of the giant bird’s thighs almost soothing to his exhausted body.

At least the cold didn’t feel quite so bad now.

“Iceheart used her own body as a vessel for a Primal's soul?” Minfilia gasped, hands upon her desk in shock.

Now among the much recovered other Scions, Joker, Alphinaud and Moenbryda had returned to the Rising Stones after a brief rendezvous with Lord Commander Aymeric. The man had been delighted at the word of their success in quelling the Primal threat— for now, at least— and was most eager to reaffirm a continued loose alliance between the Temple Knights and the Crystal Braves. Less pleasing, however, was the new facts that had come to light in Joker’s encounter with Iceheart…

Alphinaud nodded grimly at Minfilia’s exclamation. In the privacy of the intercessory, he and Aymeric had both agreed that it would be wiser to keep that little detail of the fight more hush-hush, given the potential for panic such a revelation could cause— especially among the Ishgardians, so frightfully zealous as they often were.

“But what matters most is that you were not too late to prevent further loss of life. An outcome worthy of celebration.” The charming Elezen man smiled, his fingers laced together over the meeting table, “I, for one, could not have wished for a better outcome. Shiva is no longer a threat, and the heretics have been routed. Aye, there is the matter of Iceheart's escape, but she cannot run forever. Whether it takes days, weeks, moons, or even years, my knights will find her.”

But Alphinaud had not been quite so content to leave matters there.

“Then the argument for preemptive action should be self-evident. Perchance now you will reconsider my proposal?”

Aymeric’s smile did not falter, but a sharp edge had ringed his next words.

“Ere we first met, a similar proposal was tabled─ but the Holy See decreed that we were to observe, and that military action should be taken only in self-defense. All things considered, it was not an unreasonable decision. Since the Calamity, Garuda has never shown any inclination to storm the Gates of Judgement.” He paused for a moment, eyes drifting to the ceiling, “...Which is precisely why this unprecedented crisis and its resolution may prompt a change in policy.”

Alphinaud blinked in surprise as Aymeric again met his eyes, smiling widening, “You who have faced these Primals before know well the threat they pose. Ishgard did not— until now. And there is naught like a brush with death to change a man's outlook.” He added with just a touch of sardonic laughter.

Haurchefant, again at their side, had beamed at Aymeric’s suggestion, “At the very least, this should silence any lingering objections to our arrangement with Revenant's Toll. The Holy See may even feel moved to grant us its formal endorsem*nt.”

“Indeed.” Aymeric nodded, “But regardless, I shall consider it a form of compensation— and a gesture of good faith— to withdraw my previous request to monitor the state of Midgardsormr. Your people are doubtless needed elsewhere.”

But Alphinaud and Joker shared a look, their minds both dwelling on Iceheart’s ominous parting words regarding the ‘Keeper of the Lake’. The younger Elezen responded with a firm shake of his head.

“That will not be necessary.” He replied, eyes still lingering upon Joker, “It seems we, too, have a vested interest in watching Dravania's movements.”

Within the solar, Minfilia slowly shook her head as she mulled over the many implications of this latest incident, lowering herself back into her seat, “To think there should be another besides Joker who could draw the essence of a Primal into her body thus,” She murmured, fingers tight upon the wood “And to transform herself.”

“It’s bloody bizarre, is what it is.” Moenbryda huffed, rolling her shoulders, “I’ve never heard of such a thing. And certainly no-one mentioned that we already had a case sample of the very same! Made a fool of myself arguing with the man who apparently gobbles gods like grapes from the market about whether or not he’d hallucinated everything.”

“My sincere apologies, Moenbryda.” Minfilia said with a repentant grimace, “‘Tis merely that Joker’s abilities are… anomalous.”

“And otherworldly, apparently.” Moenbryda shot back, jutting a thumb at him. He shrugged at her side, “He filled me in on that much. I should’ve liked to know I was in the presence of a bonafide dimension-hopper before I almost went and got him killed.”

“Yes… It’s a fact we do not flaunt about for fear of attracting too much unmanageable attention Joker’s way. His situation is complex enough as it is.” Minfilia added, turning her apologetic smile to him now, “Which is precisely why Iceheart’s actions are still such a surprise even to us. Given your casual acceptance of your power, Joker, and your highly assured talk of your ‘Personas’, I had dismissed your capacity to draw in the aether of Primals as a simple fact of your existence. Something unique to you and maybe others of your world… And something not achievable by those of ours.”

“But evidently that isn’t entirely the case.” Thancred added, a hand to his chin as he mused over the day’s revelations, “There’s no quibbling over the definition now — like the Moogles’ king before Shiva, and Joker’s most remarkable sword from the Shroud, it’s clear that what we can consider to qualify as a ‘Primal’ is far broader than just a god.”

Papalymo nodded, “Indeed. Of more concern is the implication that Iceheart retained her will even after she was possessed. It was nothing akin to Zantetsuken, who transmutes its hosts into the form of ‘Odin’ as part of its tempering process. We are talking about a mortal besides our Ren here capable of freely wielding the power of a Primal. How can that be?”

The Scions’ eyes flickered towards him, various stages of curiosity and confusion on their faces. Joker squirmed a little under the scrutiny.

“I wish I could tell you.” He shrugged, “It surprised me too.”

Yda’s puzzled frown deepened under the visor of her mask, “Well, Joker’s kind of an oddity— no offense!” She added quickly, waving her hands, “But Iceheart’s not from another world or anything, right? It can't possibly be that easy for her… There must be some sort of sacrifice required. Or maybe she and Joker really are just special?”

‘Special’… A consistent phrase in Joker’s life ever since that day he had first awakened to Arsène. Morgana had used it when he’d sensed something in him from the very moment they had first met. Whatever it was that drew him into the Velvet Room and enabled his Wild Card power.

And, of course, it was also a word spat so fiercely from Akechi’s lips when he’d raged at him from across the engine room of Shido’s Palace, fingers dragging painfully down his face as he’d struggled to contain his utter fury.

“But you… you’re just some criminal trash living in an attic! So how… How does someone like you have things I don’t?! How can such a worthless piece of trash be more special than me?!”

Joker idly flexed his hand, a familiar discomfort welling up inside him. He didn’t know. He never knew. He just did what he always did and simply rolled with his power, whatever shape it happened to take— both in his world and this one. Cultivated it to help aid his friends of both the Phantom Thief and Scion variety, without much care for its origin or affect upon himself.

Whatever Akechi might think, special powers and privileges were never something he actively sought out. Things just tended to… happen to him.

It was Urianger that spoke up next, tapping a finger to his temple, “What qualities this woman possesseth, I know not, but full sure am I that she was groomed for this role. Few are privy to the secrets of summoning, and but a single party standeth to profit from their dissemination.”

Right. The Ascians. Again with the Ascians…

“Well, I wouldn't presume to comment on how the lass came to know about summoning,” Moenbrdya replied with a shrug, “But I will say that what she summoned was a Primal. The readings I picked up were the same, or near as damn it… So strange as it all sounds, it's really no different from what you've faced before.”

A valid and comforting point, actually. Regardless of what this new development meant overall, the simple fact was: if it tried to apotheosize to godhood, then Joker would kill it. That much had been firmly established by now.

Y'shtola nodded her own agreement, her spirits also somewhat raised by the conclusion, “Then mayhap it is time that we look to future matters. Namely, it seems we now have confirmation on the varsity of white auracite as a vessel for extreme amounts of aether.”

“Oh indeed.” Moenbryda placed her hands upon her hips, grinning, “I said as much, didn’t I? All this certainly explains where Urianger got his sudden burst of inspiration for holding an Ascian soul in a vessel— watching you draw in a Primal’s aether.” She said, quirking a smirk at both Joker and the Elezen in question— who ducked his head further under his cowl.

Papalymo, however, still seemed highly doubtful, “Alas, your vaunted auracite still leaves something to be desired in the area of stability. The stone can only store aether for a short while before expelling its contents. “

“In addition to auracite's inherent limitations, we must needs be wary of our enemy's strength.” Urianger agreed glumly, “Though 'tis our belief that an Ascian soul may be permanently undone if smitten by a sufficiently concentrated burst of pure aether, we must remember that our foe draweth upon a near-infinite wellspring of power. Even should we succeed in entrapping one such as Lahabrea, the stone will surely not long contain his wrath.”

“Meaning we can't say for sure how concentrated the burst needs to be…” Concluded Moenbryda, eyes raised to the ceiling, “Without knowing how much aether an Ascian soul is composed of, we're basically just guessing.”

“However, we are not without prior experience.” Urianger added, turning to Joker, “Our sole clue lieth in thy struggle with Lahabrea.”

A hopeful glow graced Minfilia’s features as she considered Urianger’s meaning, “Yes… During that encounter, Hydaelyn bid you forge what She called 'a blade of Light', a weapon which took the form of a luminous stream of energy. And one which you used again, to a lesser extent, against the Cloud of Darkness within the Void itself.”

Joker gave a cautious nod. Of course, the very transient one he had conjured with G’raha’s assistance had been brief and ephemeral, and only enough to scatter the aether of a creature already horrifically weak to Light. Certainly not comparable to the blade he had needed to take down Lahabrea.

“Based on your description, we believe the 'blade' with which you vanquished your foe was composed of aether. Admittedly, both victories proved fleeting, as the Cloud was immortal within her realm, whilst Lahabrea was able to flee into the space that lies between worlds.”

“Yeah.” Joker confirmed again with a grumble. That reminder took the wind all too quickly out of his sails.

Minfilia gave him a soothing smile, “The fact remains, however, that Hydaelyn surely placed the means to destroy the Ascians in your hands for a reason. We must take heart in that.”

“Quite so, my lady.” Urianger was quick to concur, “And as Joker has since proved— he has the means to forge his own blade, given there be enough aether available for him to properly utilize. But to create one equal to that which Hydaelyn did benevolently bestow upon Her champion…”

“…Will require a truly prodigious quantity of aether.” Papalymo finished flatly, “From whence will it come, pray tell?”

Moenbryda looked surprised at the question, “Wonder-boy here doesn’t get enough from dining on Primals? You’d think that would provide quite a bit of power…”

It was Y’shtola that offered an explanation, unfolding her arms, “I’m afraid not. Having taken my own measurement of Joker’s abilities, I can say that though he certainly takes the aether of conquered Primals into his being— and not an insubstantial amount— the cumulative effect upon his person in terms of the total density of his soul, while still detectable, is not anywhere near what we would require.”

She waved an elucidating hand at him. He shrunk a little from the many academically curious eyes that the gesture prompted to focus on him.

“Curiously, whenever our friend here makes use of his ‘Personas’, as he calls them, the output of aether that is released is also surprisingly minimal, considering. Certainly in no way comparable to that of the source Primals he consumed, and very incongruous to the amount of havoc he is capable of wreaking with them. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that Ren… converts the stored aether to another form? A fascinating anomaly.” She added, tapping at her chin, “But likely not one fit for this particular purpose.”

Once again feeling a little like a guinea pig on an examination table, Joker found himself thinking that Y’shtola and Takemi working together would be quite a force to reckon with indeed.

Moenbryda slumped at the news, “Well that’s no good, then! So his power can be used to make the blade, but not to provide the requisite aether itself. In that sense I guess he’s not too different from a chunk of auracite, hm? Got my hopes up for nothing…”

And Joker gave a little indignant gasp, feeling vaguely offended at that comparison. He certainly had much more brilliance and luster than that hunk of dull stone, thank you!

Desperate to find a solution, Yda rapped her knuckles against her forehead, audibly thinking with a low hum, “Ummm... Oh! What if we had two pieces of white auracite? One to trap the Ascian, and the other to store the aether for the blade!”

“Nice try, but it's as I said: the stone won't hold aether for any length of time.” Moenbryda answered with a rueful smile, “We'd still need to collect the stuff there and then, sorry to say. Which again brings us back to our first problem.”

And in the corner, Thancred, with no solutions generated for all his contemplative silence, let out a defeated sigh, “And therein lies the rub: finding the materials to create this ‘blade’ whenever and wherever we choose.”

“Yes… 'Twould seem more research is in order.” Y’shtola concluded. She gave a brief stretch, her tail flicking, “But after such a long night I dearly require some proper rest. Fret not— afterwards, I shall peruse the tomes for a possible solution.”

“Well said!” Papalymo pumped a little fist and turned to his younger partner, “Meanwhile, we shall re-examine our previous encounters. Be ready to pack your things, Yda. We'll be going back to Gridania!”

“Yes sir!” She trilled back at him, giving a faux-salute, “Although I would at least like some more coffee first, if that’s alright…”

“Glad to see you’re all not too put out by the setback.” Moenbryda laughed, “I think I’ll linger here awhile longer. Perform a few more tests on the auracite. But before we get to any of that.” She said, straightening up and clapping her hands together, “I need a drink!”

Urianger turned to face her, frowning deeply, “The hour remains well before noon, Moenbryda.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been up all night! Time is an illusion!” Moenbryda countered, rounding on Joker and grabbing him roughly by the collar, “Come with me, you miraculous aether-sponge, you! You could probably use one too.”

And Joker gave the others a defeated shrug as he allowed himself to be dragged through the solar’s doorway. Yep, there was definitely a trend to Urianger’s friends…

With Joker’s unresisting legs trailing out behind her, Moenbryda waved a cheerful hand to F’lahminn, but recently arrived at her place behind the small bar adjacent to the Rising Stone’s lounge. The Miqo’te woman blinked at Moenbryda’s boisterous request for “enough wine to get us good and properly hammered”, looking doubtfully over their stock for a moment. Then she shrugged and simply handed over a small crate’s worth of bottles that she’d evidently concluded would be wiser to just give to Moenbrdya in its entirety.

Which did indeed seem to be the correct decision. Moenbryda hefted Joker up from the floor, dropping him onto a stool by the counter before throwing herself into the seat next to him. And within seconds was there a bottle of wine in her hand that she simply began to drink straight from.

After a long, long swig that consumed over a good half of it, she plunged her hand into the crate, producing another one. Tipped it offeringly at him, eyebrow raised. Joker, reminded painfully of his outing with Slafyrsyn, hesitated for just a moment. Then he snatched it up, biting off the cork and joining her in downing a sizeable gulp.

Moenbryda gave him an approving thumbs-up before slumping in her stool with a heavy sigh. She tilted her wine bottle, letting the remaining liquid at the bottom slosh around.

”I think I see now why Urianger kept your whole ‘situation’ a bit of a secret from me.” She said suddenly. At his quizzical look, she yanked him closer, pulling the collar of his coat back and peering down the back of his shirt.

His tired brain floundered for a moment before he realized— the very same thing that was a point of awkwardness between him and all of the other Scions.

“Louisoix’s sigil.” Moenbryda confirmed, voice growing huskier with suppressed emotion. She swallowed thickly, “I was a pupil of his too. He was a great man.” After a brief pause, Moenbryda tipped her head back, blowing air from between her lips and fluttering a loose strand of hair, “I suppose Urianger was trying to spare my feelings. Which is nice, of course! But I’d rather he’d just told me.”

Joker gave a vague hum, still not sure what he could possibly say about all that. Even if he’d had no say in it, he couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for what had happened to the man on the day of the Seventh Umbral Calamity— Like Louisoix had traded his life for Ren’s.

What a sh*tty deal that had been, huh?

Blind, bloody fool.

Joker took another solid swig of wine. He lowered the bottle between his legs, staring into the depths of the red and wishing its effects would kick in faster.

After several minutes of drinking in solemn silence, Moenbryda very soon halfway through a second bottle, Joker felt compelled to speak at last.

“Sorry I’m comparable to a hunk of stone.” He blurted out suddenly in a slightly scatterbrained attempt to encapsulate all of his thoughts.

Moenbryda looked up at him, confused. And then she snorted.

“Oh you! I didn’t mean anything bad by that. You’re still a little miracle.” She reached to ruffle his hair again, her inebriation-impacted co-ordination causing her to overshoot a little and nearly knocking him off his stool. Joker whined, desperately clutching his wine bottle to keep it from spilling.

And when Moenbryda had plonked her third very empty bottle on the counter with a loud rattle did she stand up sharply enough to unbalance her own stool.

“Y’know what? We’re both thinking too much— just like someone else I know. And just like with him, I know the cure for that. C’mere, you!”

And Joker broke into a high-pitch squeal as Moenbryda wrapped him in a very solid headlock, her knuckles grinding into the top of his skull with enough friction that he feared his hair might catch on fire.

“You and I are going to go for a walk!”

“No! I’m tired and grumpy and trying to drunkenly brood!” Joker shouted back, desperately looking around as best he could with his head pinned under a solid bicep. He spied a glimpse of a certain hooded figure slinking around the dimly-lit corner, seeming quietly relieved that the role of Moenbryda’s target for friendly physical abuse had transferred to someone else for now.

“Uriagner!” Joker called pleadingly, legs kicking, “Urianger, you utter bastard! Save me!”

“My apologies, dear friend.” The Elezen intoned gravely, head bowed under his cowl and gaze turned firmly to the nearest bookshelf, “For mine ears have spontaneously become deafened and I did not at all register thy words.”

And Joker hurled every authentic Eorzean curse he’d memorized the scholar’s way as he was dragged, the heels of his boots grinding against the tiles, out the door.

“I am going to start biting! I’ve warned you! I can grow fangs and I will take a chunk out of your beautifully muscular arm!”

The sight of grass wobbled into view, the ground beneath their feet slowly stabilizing as the distortion of the Metaverse slowly faded, soon replaced by utter mundanity. The distant sounds of chatting vacationers and Tokyo traffic met their ears as the Phantom Thieves collectively rematerialized into the real world.

It was early evening now, a strong slip of orange-hued sunlight still beaming through the tall buildings on the horizon thanks to the extended daylight of summer. Ample time for everyone to take the trains they needed to get wherever it was they would be going after this. Not that Futaba was sure where that would be for all of them. They had probably discussed it already, but she hadn’t really been up to taking it in.

All she knew was that the very moment she came home, she was one-hundred percent throwing herself up the stairs and onto her computer chair. Futaba could already envision herself, face pressed against the glow of the screen in the dark as her fingers flew furiously over the keyboard, analyzing all of the data she had gathered today. She’d do it all night if she had to. Or until she straight up just passed out right there at her desk. Just like old times.

Because there was no way in hell she was just going to simply skip merrily off to bed while Ren was still missing.

A familiar tinny voice greeted them before the Thieves could finish blinking in the low light. Sophia, calling to them from the microphone of Ichinose’s phone.

Ichinose’s hands pressed against the bench as she shot up, peering into the faces of the group as they awkwardly gathered their bearings before her. Likely searching for a familiar puff of curly dark hair. A notable and still continued absence.

Futaba looked down, biting her lip. The ever-present background noise of constant anxious thought that was just a sad little fact of her life flared up into a chaotic tangle— a nervous stream of wild words and images that she had to fight to not let consume her whole mind. She had been doing so much better these days, but the haywire nature of her brain was something that would always persist to some degree even after stealing her Heart.

Ordinarily she would cope better. Use one of the methods that she knew at least kept the worst of it at bay. But the stress of Ren’s fate over the past three days… it kept threatening to tear through the mental walls she tried to put up.

And so, even though she was probably the one most qualified to respond to the duo on a technical level, Futaba simply kept her eyes trained on her shoes, her fingers looping and weaving over each other like knitting needles behind her back.

It was Makoto who took the initiative, as she had been doing so often lately.

“We… We haven’t found Ren yet.” She said, the tension clear in her voice despite her efforts to remain calm. Ichinose’s face tightened. From where the phone sat upright on the park table came Sophia’s soft gasp of dread.

“But we’ve made progress!” Ann leapt in, desperate to put a positive spin on things, “We’ve mapped out a bunch of the… the Palace or whatever it is. And we know a way to advance through it now. Right?”

She turned to the others for confirmation, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, exactly! We’ll find him next time, I swear.” Ryuji added next, smiling as broadly as he could manage at the image of Sophia displayed on the screen. The AI girl’s eyes were wide and shining with suppressed anxiety, a perfect display of complex human emotions courtesy of her creator and her experiences with the Thieves that had expanded her personality.

Sophia’s gaze dropped in an unnecessary but still so human act of quiet doubt, “So it is a Palace, then… Or something a lot like it.”

“Some kind of elaborate cognitive distortion, yes.” Makoto added— again speaking up where Futaba probably should. A little squirm of guilt mixed with the persistent buzz of fretful thoughts that danced around her mind, “But we can’t say much about it just yet. There’s still a lot of information we’re missing.”

Ichinose breathed out. Took her phone in her hands, holding the screen up to continue to allow Sophia a proper view, “Very well. I suppose that means we should head back for the day. You lot should get some rest. Sophia and I will analyze any data you want to send over.”

Futaba felt the woman look in her direction. Sensing that she was expected to respond but not at all feeling up to it, Futaba gave a vague nod, eyes still fixed on the ground.

She distantly heard Ichinose begin to speak over the phone. Likely making arrangements to stay in Tokyo a bit longer than the two had originally planned to. And then they were walking. Futaba felt Haru slide up beside her— and Inari behind. She heard her former senpai gently encourage her to follow along with a soft murmur.

Futaba watched Yusuke’s shadow bob across the cement walkways with each step, occasionally falling over her own. It had been a while since they’d met in person— she’d almost forgotten how tall he was. His long shadow all stretched like this kind of made it look like she had her own freaky spiritual guardian entity looming behind her. Like something from a Shounen anime. Sort of a Neo Featherman Ultra thing, where the cast had their own individual daemon partners they could summon. A lot like their Personas. That was a good series. So, so much discourse on the internet when the trailer first dropped, since it broke the traditional Phoenix Ranger formula, but now it was a cult classic. Idiots— she always liked it. Maybe she should watch it again. If she had to compare Inari to any of the cast, it would totally be Feather Pheasant. Same kind of vibes, same kinda blue. Though if we wanted to be less clichè then an equally accurate comparison could also be made to—

She blinked, suddenly gasping among the press of a crowd at the edge of a platform. Whoa, whoa, hey— when had they gotten to the train station? Futbaba felt her friends close in a little tighter around her, a physical barrier between her body and the rest of the world as far too many strangers swarmed around her, scattering her already chaotic thoughts and making her head spin.

Futaba belatedly registered Akechi’s absence from their numbers. Seemed he took his leave first, intent on heading in a different direction to the rest of them. She wasn’t sure where he was planning on staying, and didn't especially care— he could figure that out for himself. But it was a little startling to have him just vanish like that without her noticing. So much for being the navigator…

She took a deep breath when the train doors opened. Awkwardly squirmed her way past the wave of bodies that pressed forward into the carriage, desperately seeking shelter. With so many bodies almost like hot pokers threatening to make contact with her skin, Futaba felt her brain begin to overheat. Her chest fluttered painfully as her mind, now thoroughly untethered, spun around the very thoughts that had circled ceaselessly in the background since that awful moment Lavenza had spoken those words.

(He wasn’t dead. Lavenza said so. Though apparently he had been? She didn’t understand. Maybe the girl had misunderstood what she sensed. Maybe Ren just got… really hurt? Though, god, that was an awful thought too. Where the hell even was he? How much danger was he in? What would happen if they couldn’t get to him?)

She heard the others speak softly among themselves. Ryuji shuffled to let her scooch past him, allowing her to take the seat nearest to the wall so there would be no-one else to sit next to her except for Inari on the other side. Futaba cradled her laptop bag against her chest as Ryuji and Sumire stood in front of her, their bodies physically shielding her from any stray gazes from other passengers.

God did she appreciate this little bit of sanctuary. She’d have to thank them properly later. But her mouth couldn’t form words right now. Instead her brain was full of—

(What was he doing right now? Was he alone? Was he scared? He was tough, sure, but anyone would be frightened if they were suddenly trapped in the furthest depths of a bizarre mindspace, regardless of their proficiency at combat. Even the team leaders in red have their weaknesses.)

Futaba at last lifted her heavy head at the sight of Ichinose, her phone (and Sophia) in hand, getting off a couple of stops before them in order to make for a hotel she'd booked. Futaba barely observed as they left with soft parting words and tight smiles, again giving just the vaguest nod in their direction.

(He knew they were coming for him, right? He knew that, surely. They wouldn’t leave him! Well, they had left him, but not… not like that. No, no, never, never. They were coming back. Makoto was right, it’s what Ren would do if he was here. He was good at making tough calls like that. Like a true leader. Like Feather Hawk. Red gloves and all— which was kinda funny. But that meant they needed to play this smart, especially if it was so dangerous even their strongest member was struggling. But, god, he had to know they were trying to get to him, he had to… Right?)

And then there was a gradual slowing and then a stop and lurching forward and chaos and voices and crushing bodies so, so tight and close and suffocating until she was walking again, trailing once more at Haru’s heels and watching the shadows of her friends spill along the ground, but one thought now looping constantly in her head with each step she forced herself to take.

(please don’t hate me i’m trying to save you this time please please please please)

Futaba heard the beautifully familiar sound of the bell above Leblanc's door, her spiraling senses at last soothed a little. Sojiro’s head shot up when they entered, the cafe’s front counter that he stood behind looking conspicuously spotless.

“Oh.” Was all he said. If Ren’s continued absence among them hadn’t spelled it out, their glum faces certainly did.

Haru was the first to offer something in the way of a recap this time, although she wasn’t sure of the specifics, as Futaba instead crawled into the nearest booth table. She hunched her knees to her chin, fingers gripping the strap of her laptop bag. There was a flash of black fur as Morgana emerged from Sumire’s bag, bright blue eyes blinking into her face.

Body stiff as stone, she absently registered the passing of a good few minutes. Tuning in enough to catch the tail-end of their conversation with Sojiro, she realized the others were again confirming their lodgings for the night. Haru and Makoto were considering whether they could afford another night in a Tokyo hotel (well— Haru definitely could, but it’s not like Makoto would accept her charity). Meanwhile Ryuji and the rest were still set on using the camper. Debating if they could free up some extra space if they moved things around a bit. And as for Futaba…

“Hey, kiddo.” Sojiro’s voice, though kept extra-gentle, still managed to startle her. She blinked up at him as he bent over the table, absently fidgeting with the cafe’s keys between his fingers. Eyes soft with sympathy, he cleared his throat, “I’ll be closing up soon. Are you good to walk back with me…?”

And Futaba hesitated for a moment, before speaking for the first time since leaving the Metaverse.

“Actually I… I think I’m gonna stay here tonight. In—in Ren’s room. Y’know?” Her strained voice came slightly cracked. She gestured up the stairs, to the conspicuous darkness of the attic that lay at the top.

“The others will just be in the camper. It’s cool, right?” She added quickly at Sojiro’s surprised expression, “I mean, I’ve got my laptop, so I can go over the data we gathered from here. And, uh…”

She twisted her fingers again, fighting for a decent justification— truthful or not. Either way, nothing was coming to her, any words she might say next lodged firmly in her throat.

It was Sumire that offered an explanation: “You want to make sure there’s someone here to greet Ren-senpai if he does come back, right?”

“Y-yeah, exactly!” Ohhh, bless that Bless-using girl for thinking of an excuse for her.

Sojiro looked uncomfortable, like any concerned parent would be. Morgana, perched upon the table and licking at his paws, decided to join Sumire in backing her up.

“I’ll stay with her. She won’t be alone.”

Even after Sumire had translated on Morgana’s behalf did Sojiro understandably remain skeptical— a cat, even a magic talking one, was hardly a good substitute for a proper guardian. But Futaba, too, was an adult now— barely, but still. Legalities. And after some pointed reminding that she had several friends packed into an just RV outside if she really needed anything, it was with a great and weary sigh that Sojiro reluctantly allowed it.

“Just… Don’t stay up too late, alright?” He murmured, shuffling his keys to his other hand and petting at her head, “Remember: human hours.”

She forced a chuckle at that, at least. God, she hated worrying the poor man with the more unhealthy of her eccentricities, after all the awful stress she’d already caused him two years prior when she hadn’t even been able to leave her room…

It took some cajoling to get the other remaining Thieves out of her hair, but eventually they all shuffled off to prepare to sleep in the camper. Mentally promising that she’d properly clean herself up come morning, Futaba crept up the creaking stairs to the attic, Morgana following silently in her wake.

It somehow felt so… invasive, being here without Ren. Not to mention that with no lights turned on the simple attic bedroom that he had grown so fond of, despite everything, was so conspicuously dark and quiet— the warm traces that lingered from recent human habitation already starting to fade. But she was here now, and it was too late to change her mind at this point.

Her eyes jumped to the only source of light. The goofy glow-in-the-dark stickers shaped like cartoon stars that Ren and Inari had picked up at the planetarium for some reason. Frickin’ goofball had stuck them all over the ceiling rafters in a rather adorable approximation of the night sky that you couldn’t even really see this far into the city.

She’d asked him about them once, when they’d been huddled close to his crappy second-hand CRT TV, squinting to make out the details on 8-bit games with a display that kept jumping whenever anyone in the cafe below so much as stepped too hard.

“I feel like I kind of miss the stars?” He’d replied with an absent shrug, eyes still fixed on the retro sidescroller he was sucking real bad at, “And they were a gift from Yusuke, so of course I’m using them.”

Futaba’s heart gave a fresh sad lurch as she hauled her large laptop from her bag. She did her best to throw herself onto the lounge by the wall without shaking the room and rattling the many, many, many bizarre knick-knacks Ren had picked up from all kinds of places since he’d first come to Tokyo. Some of them she could understand, like the crane game figurines. She was into collecting those too. But many were just the most bizarre assortment of random crap— a decorative ramen bowl, a poster of an idol Ann liked that Ren hadn’t even known the name of, a promotional display featuring that weird-ass bear thing from the Junes department store... Even that super tacky “I <3 Tokyo” shirt that Futaba herself had gotten him as a gag. All things other people had casually gifted him without much thought that the corny fool took to treasuring like his most prized possessions.

The soft patter of paw pads met her ears. Futaba looked up from the glow of her screen, squinting at Morgana’s eyes in the dark.

“Where do you plan on sleeping?” He asked her.

And she pat at the cushion beneath her, “I’ll just hunker right here on the couch. I’ve done it before.” She added at Morgana’s doubtful look, recalling a time where she’d been forced to crash at Leblanc after a different non-stop data analysis session in their hideout that had completely conked her out.

Ever aiming for some kind of pseudo-chivalry, Morgana immediately protested, “But it’s not right for a lady!” Futaba snorted at that– a completely inelegant sound that she believed refuted his argument quite nicely.

His cat ears drooped as he continued, “And… I know for sure that Ren wouldn’t mind if you borrowed his bed.”

Futaba looked away. She, too, was sure he wouldn’t. If you so much as smiled at him once then the guy would probably give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. Way too quick to dole out affection benefits that absolutely should’ve been saved for a higher friendship level, Ren was. Practically had ‘take a lethal blow for you’ unlocked at rank one. She never knew why that was, but from the way he’d all but been dropped at Sojiro’s doorstep the moment his totally unjust probation had started… Well, she could take a pretty solid guess.

She shook her head, “Yeah. But it’s… it’s really okay. And I can totally sleep just fine on a couch. My spine is more than used to the abuse, I assure you! I am an absolute pro at shrimping at a computer desk!”

“That’s not something you should be proud of!” Morgana shouted back at her as she cackled with her hands on her hip, deciding to give up and let her bait him into a new topic of conversation, “And you need to get some proper rest.”

Futaba glowered harder at her screen, fingers already tapping away as she hopped between at least seven open applications, “I’m fine, kitty. This is my jam.”

She didn’t dare look up as he continued, “You know I hate to agree with Akechi, but he wasn’t wrong about one thing… You’re our navigator. We need you in top form for the rest of this investigation. Alright?”

Futaba at last lifted her head. The sharp jump from bright screen to gloomy darkness left her entirely blind for a moment. Then she let out a weary sigh. Damn, she hated it when other people were right about her bad habits.

“Yeah, alright.” She replied quietly, closing the lid of her laptop, “I’ll be good. Geez.”

After setting her dearest baby aside— which at the moment felt a little like being asked to pull off her own arm— Morgana directed her to where she could borrow a spare bedsheet and pillow. After they two haphazardly spread a blanket across the lounge and assembled something close to a proper sleeping space, the cat-like creature showed his feline-adjacent prowess by jumping smoothly from the floor and onto Ren’s bed. His big blue eyes stared down at the cold mattress for a moment, seeming a little lost. Then, after half-heartedly pawing at the sheets, he gently curled himself into a small ball.

Futaba took her glasses off, letting the shapes of the dark attic blur drastically. Set them aside on the table, before crawling again onto the couch. With the summer heat the leather was a bit sticky on her skin, but nothing too bad. Not for one night, anyway.

(But would it be just one more night? She couldn’t say. And didn’t want to think about it right now.)

She looked to the blurry patch of fuzz that was Morgana. He looked so small— just a spot of black on the white and far-too-flat bedsheets. Barely took up any space at all. God, was that a lonely sight, with no human-shaped lump to snuggle on top of.

Gulping down a sudden heat in her throat, Futaba rolled over. She kept her face pressed firmly into the back of the couch, eyes away from the near-empty bed in the corner.