17 ◦ [AUDIO]

[akingmuststand]

My, my -

[The voice that speaks should be easily recognisable to most people here. Schneizel speaks, as usual, without panic, without anger - just a small, perhaps bemused, smile and a hint of mild interest.]- it would be a gross exaggeration on my part to say that I had been gone for more than an hour, but it seems that such has not been the case

Comments

[voice | private // 97%]

[a_la_turk]

[ There's a sharp, sudden intake of breath as gloved fingers trip over keys in their hurry and activate the communication device prematurely. She knows that voice. She knows that voice and it's that firm recognition that shakes the remnants of a death-like sleep from her, that causes her to sit up suddenly and draw the device close enough to hear with greatest clarity -- ]

Schneizel...?

[ A light thump follows, as of someone's back falling against some hard surface, and then, silence. Silence for the sudden surge of emotion that so easily overwhelms her and robs her of her words, if only for a minute. Her decision is made, has been made since long before he issued that question. She's already moving from her bed, and audibly, at that, but it's the inflection of her voice that speaks and speaks volumes. It is a tell in and of itself. ]

I -- yes, of course! I --

[ Have much so much I want to say and I'm not even sure where to begin. She takes a slow, quiet breath, unable to help the smile spreading across her face. Joyful, painful, anxious, telling. Too telling for a Turk, but for a woman -- ]

Are you at the Temple?

[voice | private // 97%]

[akingmuststand]

[The nature of her response doesn't surprise him. There's little arrogance or pride in the knowledge that it's for him - nothing but a plain, simple sort of acceptance. But he does smile, and the expression is genuine.

It hasn't been long since he last spoke to her, on his side. Therefore it wasn't a case of missing her, or feeling lost. But there is a faint joy at being reunited with her for the fact that she is stalwart and trustworthy and someone he's very fond of.

So when he speaks, it's warm and rich, not quite so firm as before. There's a softness there that needn't be exaggerated.]

Now, that's far more reassuring than quiet. I will wait for you here.

[Which is, of course, a yes.]

[action]

[a_la_turk]

[ And a yes is all that she needs to invoke the familiar hum of her materia. The sound of what could only be a door opening or closing can be heard a split second before the feed is cut and Valeria is on her way, racing across the cold earth with her sights set upon the stone structure in the distance as though it, he might disappear at any moment.

But he could, he might. If not today, then someday. It is a reality none who set foot in Demeleier can escape. Things, circumstances change. People, they come and they go. Some return, some don't, and she knows. She knows regret. She feels it in her chest, a tightness that twists and turns and overwhelms the self, the will and drive and heart, the love of life. It takes, took. Took in the guise of a thin shield meant to repel, to deny, to protect. Born from the very same, it protected nothing. Would protect nothing were she to bear it again. It would, could breed only more of the same.

Regret. Sadness. Anger.

She inhales sharply, steadying herself, and stays the course at a run, never slowing. She knows. What it is, who it's for, and it isn't nothing. She could tell herself that it's nothing, but she won't, not anymore. She knows she might never get this opportunity again, that the clock is steadily ticktickticking away again; and yet, it seems to slow as she comes upon the Temple and lifts dark purple eyes to see... ]

[action] whoops posted without completing it >>

[akingmuststand]

[Schneizel standing before the stone steps, looking precisely as he did when he left to all extents and purposes, his movement unhurried, as if the circumstances were without complications, like being ripped once again from purpose, from duty, and what might be a pre-written fate.

Inspite of this, as if it was nothing, not even the faintest troubling dream, he smiles when his eyes meet hers, his gaze as she doubtlessly remembers it: cool, sharp, even distant. But not too far away. Not entirely out of reach. Not immune to the mirth that curves his lips. The surprise of her changed speed, her swift entrances, has long since dispersed through familiarity into something more bemused. It's something he equates with her intrinsically.

She is not to be measured in terms of value, of worth, of avarice - no human, no figure should be. She is precious, priceless, as every other, and yet he thinks fondly to himself that he would be a richer man indeed were she in Britannia.

But probably no less doomed, and such calamities - such well played, exquisitely placed calamities - were to be reined in and contained.

Inwardly digressing, he tilted his head, smile growing minutely in greeting. A small change, but one she'd surely seen enough of him to note.]

I'm glad to be reassured that your promptness has not suffered.