fetteredcrystals | Post-Origin Waking

It's all right. He is all right.

Flames, when was the last time he had been reassured by anyone that he was fine? If anything, he had always been told the opposite. Too frail, too sickly, too unwell to ever be fine...but Jill reassures him he is and he is inclined to agree.

He will take sore over being dead any day. Gladly.

Out comes a laugh, a strained sound that is barely there. "I am blessed to see you." He is beyond glad. This shouldn't even be possible. The fingers at his right side twitch as he makes an attempt to reach for Torgal's fur. "And you as well, boy."

Thanks where thanks is due, after all.

But, as always, his mind turns to his brother. To Clive. If he had somehow survived then surely, surely Clive had as well. There was no way his brother was dead. That was a possibility Joshua would never, could never accept. Not after everything they had fought and suffered for. He had given the world his brother - it would be wrong for the world to not allow him to live in it.

"...Clive?" He knows Jill is expecting the question. It's their nature, after all, to ask after one another. "Is he all right too?"

As Torgal leans his big head down to nudge his face under Joshua's hand, Jill's expression falters. Clive. If any of them would have survived, she thought it would be him. Prince Dion looked ready for an end, a pale ghost haunting the edges of their conversations, yet speaking up loud and clear when it came to the mission that might kill them all. Joshua, frail as he is strong, body so often working against him. From a young age it always felt as if his time with them would be all too brief, but in the end, they seem to all be scrambling for just that: time, and time together. Time that was stolen.

"I don't know," is all she can say, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "We're looking. Gav, Otto... everyone. We'll find him."

Or what's left of him. She hates to think of it. After all this suffering, for Clive to lose his life... it's unfair. But they all know fairness means little.

"We'll find him," she repeats quietly.

Torgal is warm and his nose is cool and wet. The contrast is comforting to Joshua as he feels the weight of Jill's hand press against his shoulder. Slowly he processes the words she says to him, lips curling downward as the smile he wore fades away.

She doesn't know, but they're looking. Everyone is. He would too, once he could stand. There was no way that he would wash up on this shore alive only for his brother to have passed on.

No. It is a reality that Joshua refuses to accept. Clive would never die before him. It was unnatural and wrong. They would find him.

"Yes...you are right. We will."

There was no other option.

The loss of that smile feels like Origin falling from the sky all over again. Jill wishes she knew what to say, but she can only act as she knows Clive would want: to protect Joshua, no matter what. She has to keep hope alive for him.

"Let's sit you up," she says, because if anything is to happen, it won't be with him on the sand. "Do you think you can manage that with my help, Joshua?"

Joshua alive does threaten to give her hope, genuine hope, that Clive may be, too. But she has to focus on Joshua, alive and whole before her. She has to ignore the emotions in her chest and in her throat. For Clive, she can do this.

"Ah, I do..."

Hope. It is something they both need, something Joshua will fiercely cling to until he is absolutely certain it's to be snuffed out. Clive would be alive. Founder, he was sure of it. Nothing else would be acceptable.

As Jill helps him upright he groans, head suddenly light as he blinks once more to take the shoreline into focus. He is sandy and gritty and somewhat damp from the sea water still. The soreness he feels is beyond discomfort but it still pales in comparison to how it felt having Ultima inside of him.

"Thank you, Jill."

"Don't thank me just yet. I haven't gotten you to your feet," she manages to joke, albeit without a laugh or any sort of mirth that reaches her eyes. Slow and steady. She watches him for any signs of sudden discomfort, injuries discovered in a new position, but he seems decent.

Still, she puts an arm behind him to brace him and give him some support as she allows him time to adjust.

"This would be much easier if you were still smaller than me."

That growth spurt was diabolical.

He can't help but chuckle at her comment, grateful for the way she helps support his weight as he does his best to adjust and, after a moment, brace himself to get to his feet. He's wobbly, like a freshly hatched chocobo chick, and the weight of his body feels monumental...but Jill is there to help him. She is an anchor in the tumultuous sea he'd washed up out of.

She is home where there is none to be had, beyond hope that Rosaria and her people, in some fashion, survived too.

"Forgive me, Jill. I did not know my Father's breeding would result in gracing me with such long legs. Would that I could make myself smaller..."

It doesn't help that it's sand beneath their feet, either. Even wet, it shifts with their weight, but Jill has no problem bearing Joshua's.

"I would put you in my pocket and take you home, then. As it is... we'll manage like this until we can get you to Tarja."

Jill doesn't trust that he's entirely uninjured.

"Ha...what a cozy notion indeed." Joshua would happily take up purchase inside of one of her pockets if it were possible. Alas, he is far too big. He will simply have to walk, one step at a time.

"Ah...I imagine I will receive quite an earful when I see her again. I shall begin to mentally prepare myself for it."

"You'd best prepare to be honest with her about how you feel," she warns, slowly turning them to retrace her footsteps in the sand, as well as Torgal's pawprints. Their furry friend bounds ahead, leading the way.

"One thing at a time."

"I swear to you that I will be honest to Lady Tarja about how well I feel." He means it too. There was no reason to put on a strong face any longer if he needn't do so. He had just survived death, or something akin to it. He would take her nagging with as much grace as he could muster.

"But yes, you are right...one thing at a time." One foot before the other, as the two followed Torgal's lead.

Post-Origin Waking

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