It's not clear how long it takes Noel to find her, in this place where time has stopped. He's not surprised that she's not all the same; having been trapped in darkness in an endless stretch of time without being able to feel. He's not surprised that when he pulls her back to the living, feeling is all she wants to do.
Serah allows enough time for Noel to walk her through everything that's happened since she's been gone, and when he gets to how much he missed her she decides that's enough talking.
He glances at her pendant and starts to ask a question for her sake, but she presses her mouth against his and whispers, no chapels here.
She pushes his back against the throne of Etro, and as he's making full use of his hands she wraps hers around his neck to pull off her gloves, so by the time he's pushing into her she's pushing her bare hands against crystal, bracing herself against him as nicks and cuts form on her hands and blood runs down the throne; her sister watches them, emotionless.
Here is the only church, where they plead to any gods left alive to take pity on them.
After it's over Noel takes her hands in his and brushes his fingertips over her palms, cleaning up all traces of blood and closing the open cuts with gentle touches. This close she takes a moment to appreciate his scent; earth and dirt and the only thing mortal left in an immortal world.
If they've spent days or weeks or months or years together it's unclear. It makes everything feel like one long dream where everything is sterile and chaotic. A dream like she's falling; only she never wakes up and her body is in constant motion even though she knows she's standing still and it makes her sick. It's scary in a way that reminds Serah of what it's like to be dead, and bile forms in her throat when she thinks that maybe she still is. Needing reassurance, she takes off her gloves and flexes her hands, staring at the cuts and small scars on her palms as a reminder that she can still bleed. When Noel sees her doing this he likes to remind her in other ways, rubbing his thumb against her wrist, kisses planted at her neck, attention to the inside of her thighs when he's bold and he gets the chance; all the places her blood pumps thickest.
In turn she digs her nails into his flesh, drags her teeth against all his angles and bites down hard to remind herself he's still solid and real. When he's this close she can smell the earth again and it calms her down. She can still breathe, and even if she's mimicking the motions of being alive, it's a damn good imitation.
But this isn't a world for the living – it's a world for the dead and the gods who look over them, and the shape of the world as it is now sometimes makes Serah so dizzy not even Noel can ground her. He grabs her when she sways while the world twists and bends and unhinges and fits back together the way he fits back into her, but when it's all said and done neither one of them is sure which way they were facing.
