Colette first notices it when she is dressing one morning.
The patch of green blossoms over her left shoulder. It is barely the width of her finger and, at first, she thinks it to be a bruise. She brushes a nail against it, feeling the toughness of it, the miniscule cracks that cut through it disturbingly. It is not something she likes looking at.
If I just wash it, maybe it'll go away. So she takes a sponge, dips it in water and soap, and scrubs as hard as she can. The patch remains there, like a lone oasis in a desert. But it doesn't make her feel any better to think of it that way, because it still itches and makes her skin stiff.
"Colette?" someone calls from outside the inn door. "We'll be leaving soon. Are you ready?"
She quickly dons her overcoat, and brushes her long hair over her shoulders. Nothing could be seen, nothing could even be suspected. She keeps her eyes on the crystal bound with her neck, and the necklace that hangs over it - the necklace that Lloyd had given her.
"I'll be right out, Professor!" she responds. She takes a deep breath, and puts on her smile. Her friends have already gone through so much to save her. She doesn't need to worry them anymore.
She had many bruises from her falls back then, especially so in first grade. The young are always the clumsiest, and Colette was the poster child for it. Tripping over the last step of the stairway, or the tip of her shoe finding the one stone upturned in the grass – and so she would have a scrape on her knee, or a blue-black mark on her shoulder.
"Be more careful!" Lloyd would say, once stopping her from face-planting into the ground. His own steps were unsure, but with awkward arms he caught her from the side. Still, he grinned, as wide and bright as when they played tag among the trees.
Even then, he worried about her.
"What a useless girl!" Rodyle turns away from her in disgust, leaving her in her prison of glass. Colette grabs her shoulder, hoping to cover it up even more than her clothes could do.
But Rodyle didn't even need to be near to know what she hid. Could he see through her so easily? The thought of it sends waves of revulsion through her stomach.
"To be left with a sinful Chosen!" he shouts again, his voice pressing upon her mind like needles. "At the very least, you will be good bait."
It's the word that sinks into her chest, leaving her body like a husk, unmoved by the cries of dragons and the sharp wind that cut through the clouds all around her. Sinful? she thinks with growing horror. Her eyes gazes down towards her sleeve, feeling a coarseness rub against her clothes, the fibers catching onto something stiff, something painful, something wrong.
Is that… what I am?
This is not something she can continue to ignore.
"When we err, we must pray."
Her first pastor was a kind, gentle man, his eyes hidden within a sea of wrinkles. For her 7th birthday, he had given her a book – her first prayer book, etched with gold filigree on the cover, the pages scrawled in angelic writings by some dedicated scribe. She was still in the middle of her training, so she could only read a few fragments of the sentences here and there.
"When you err, keep these words in mind." He tapped at the book cover. "And confess to the Goddess for your mistakes. Only then will you be pure once more."
She promised him this. Yet whenever she prayed, Lloyd's face would light up her mind, even then. So she would forget to pray for her own redemption.
"Colette, is something wrong?"
Her smile is ready, lifting her face into place. The sky is bright, the others with them walking and talking amongst themselves as they headed towards the Earth temple's entrance. Lloyd walks near to catch up to her.
"Oh, nothing. I think I'm just tired from before."
The shape of his eyes, the way they pierce through her, is both a welcome intrusion as it is a frightening one. There are some things that he shouldn't be burdened with, not after all that he has already done for her. "You don't have to keep things hidden from us, you know."
"I know," she says, careful to not giggle or anything of the sort. "I have all my friends with me."
"That's right." Lloyd reaches for her hand. The heat from his glove presses against her skin, but she can't help the skipped beat in her chest. She is lucky that he hadn't reached for her other hand… the one that would soon be…
"So remember, you can tell us anything that's bothering you." He smiles, wide and bright. "Okay?"
Lloyd is so kind, too kind. And kind people always got hurt so very easily.
"Okay," she agrees with him, gripping his hand back. The strength is something she can feel. It is tangible, pure reality. "I promise I'll let you know."
The lies are natural. Just another thing for Lloyd to be disappointed in later. More and more, the failures of her own person would be so much, that not even Lloyd would be able to ignore them. She knows she is making things worse, but she can't let herself tell him.
I can't tell anyone about this… she thinks, her face a perfect mask of optimism. She does all she can to not grip Lloyd's hand too tight. I can't tell anyone about this body!
"Are you unable to sleep, Chosen?"
Kratos' voice had a timbre to it that was instantly recognizable – even before she would grow to know him. Yet she was sure that they had never met before this journey. Perhaps that was why she hadn't flinched when he appeared beside her, overlooking the barren dunes from this lone oasis.
"Ah.. no, I'm fine," she lied.
His face upturned to the night sky. If she didn't look at him directly, he seemed even more familiar this way. Was it the shape of his hair? The way the light caught it to make it darker?
"If you cannot sleep, you should count the stars." He paused. "Although, a human life is far too short to count them all..."
She clasped her hands, age-old recitations flitting away from her mind. Prayer had helped her at first, but without sleep, those soft promises held less weight than before.
"…That's a good idea. I'll try that."
Late at night, she can barely stop herself from coughing.
Sheena is with her, jumping from her own bed to rub a hand against Colette's back. "Hey! Do you need some water? Did you catch something?"
Her chest feels like it is on fire. It is difficult to breathe. The vivid image of her lungs crystallizing like her skin suddenly bring forth a terrible fear. This… this is what he meant. Even with Sheena's soothing voice, all she can hear is Rodyle's mocking tone. Because I didn't go through with it. To escape one death only to go through another. A punishment.
Sylvarant is still dying. She has every right to be punished.
"Colette?"
After a moment, her throat finally clears. She takes shuddering breaths, then turns to Sheena with a smile. "S-sorry about that. Maybe some water might help?"
"How cute! Is she a little puppy?"
The girl in strange clothes stared at Colette, her hands protectively holding the furry creature. She had only joined the group for a short time, keeping to herself. "Not exactly."
"I'm a boy!" A bell tinkled when the creature shook all over in distaste, its – no, his curly tails fanning out behind him. "And I'm much smarter than a puppy!"
Colette had held out her hand to him. "What's your name?"
Corrine told her straight away, much to Sheena's ire.
When she was rescued later on, she had seen those same bells hanging off of Sheena's wrist. She could never seem to find the right time to apologize.
Sometimes, she would even see Sheena whispering to them, holding the bells close when she thought no one was looking.
The guilt was overwhelming.
The strange mark is spreading, running from her shoulder to the length of the upper part of her arm. It is an ocean engulfing the land that is her body, slowly overtaking flesh to become hard crystal. It now hurt just to raise up her arm a certain way, making it difficult to throw her chakrams and affecting her aim.
Her clothes are modest, and her sleeves are long. She looks normal enough. But if her overcoat happened to slip down by more than a few inches…
She can barely look at herself in the mirror when she changes. And she only does so when it is pitch dark.
The greatest sins are those we hide. Her third pastor had told her this, when she was just reaching adolescence. Not just from the world, but from ourselves. They are treacherous secrets that the Goddess frowns upon. But when you give yourself to the Goddess, sins and all, one may be forgiven.
Yet she had rejected the Goddess, too cowardly to die. And now her sin was engulfing her.
It is to be expected, isn't it?
"Will you not be going to the baths, Colette?" Presea asks her, seeing Colette sitting on her bed in their chosen inn for the night.
She shakes her head. "I'm very tired. Go have fun without me!"
Lloyd had never been the praying type, but that was okay. More than okay.
As school children, he would sometimes stand outside the chapel, waiting for her to finish her lessons so that they could play with Genis later, or rush along the shore before worrisome adults chased them back to the safety of town.
"Who do you talk to when you pray?" he once asked, wearing bright red. It had been a gift from his father, the big man with the hearty voice, loud enough to send Colette's ears thrumming with pleasantness.
"To the Goddess," she said matter-of-factly. Then, after a brief thought, she added, "And to myself sometimes."
He had looked over to her. "That sounds useful!"
Knowing that he waited for her, she would sometimes rush through the prayers so she could see him quicker. When she was feeling daring, she would skip them altogether.
From there, it only grew and grew.
The earth shakes, and the towers fall. But all she can do is clutch at her ruined shoulder, eyes biting through her.
She can't even feel the sting from Forcystus' weapon, only the wind that hits her exposed skin.
"It's… it's disgusting, isn't it?" Her voice squeaks out, barely able to leave her tightened throat. "It's… it's…"
"It's not at all."
Unlike her, Lloyd has never needed to lie.
"It's a bit gross looking, isn't it?" she said, gazing at the side of the bridge.
Zelos shrugged. "It certainly is grotesque. Although, knowing where Exspheres come from, I'm not sure it's appropriate to describe them that way.."
She rubbed at her arm in guilt. "You're right."
They have taken her back home.
Colette can barely sleep, even when she is back in her own soft bed that she had slept on for sixteen years. The windows let in the afternoon sun, and the bookcases are to her side, their shelves still filled with her prayer books and their angelic writings.
Her shoulder feels heavier.
She can hear the others downstairs. There is the faint warble of her grandmother's voice, and the strong tenor of Kratos' own. Then there would be someone else interrupting him, slightly higher-pitched, their throat pressed to the point of tension.
"…Can I see her?…"
Colette sinks beneath her covers, shutting her eyes, waiting and hoping for the day to end, for her friends to forget her and leave her to this mess that she has gotten herself into. She doesn't want to disappoint them anymore. She doesn't want to hurt Lloyd any more than she already has.
All I do is mess things up.
"You should let her rest," someone says. Kratos. She hears the shift of his belt, the shield strapped to his side that clinks against his sword. "Do you understand why she is like this?"
He knows Lloyd shouldn't get near me. Because of what I…
Sinful, reckless, useless, and a failure. She couldn't die when she needed to. And now, it seems she won't even live when others wanted her to. She knows she is not worth this much.
She must have fallen asleep just then, because her palm upon waking starts to ache, marking the necklace's imprints deep into her skin, holding it when she dreams. Her shoulder is numb, and her limbs feel all wrong and askew. Still, she is afraid to lift her head. She didn't want to think how much time must have passed.
Someone is sitting beside her bed.
"Colette? Are you awake?"
By the grace of the Church, and by her grandmother's kindness, Colette was allowed to visit Lloyd's house sometimes, even though it was never quite often. It was far, after all, skirting by the Desians to where the only other living beings known were a young boy, a dwarf, and some strange dog-creature. She recalled those moments seated on his balcony, watching the stars billow out from the dark, accompanied by Lloyd's loud voice that chased away the stillness.
Even so, Lloyd was never allowed into her own room ever since he was very young. "You have many precious things, Colette," her grandmother told her. "He might not mean to, but he could by some chance ruin them." Her father supported this decision. "Your room is only for you," he said, and nothing much more.
That's why she visited Lloyd's home as often as she could. It always felt less empty there.
She is not supposed to be in this room, and neither is Lloyd. But routine has now been thrown out the window many times, and though she huddles in her blankets, Lloyd talks to her back. This is mean and cruel (everything she has ever done has been cruel for him), but she lacks the courage to face him.
He has been talking to her for a while.
"Is it still so hard for you to trust me?"
It is sudden, what he says. Filled with disappointment, but lacking any anger. That cut through her chest viciously.
"I can't trust myself."
She can't remember when she turns to him, but then she notices his eyes and the way both his hands holds one of her own so tightly.
"That's why we have everyone else, right?" Lloyd tries to joke, though his smile doesn't last. It still gets her to grip back his hands, to forget the infection that was slowly crawling down her arm. "I just… don't want you to keep dealing with things alone."
But what if it is what I deserve?
Colette doesn't say the thought out loud, for she has some sense about that at the very least. She instead grips the necklace again with her free hand, giving him a weak smile, but a smile all the same.
"I know I'm not alone when I wear this." The gentle weight of it on her neck, the symmetry carved into its design, is enough for comfort, even when she first saw the mark of green on her chest.
That only serves to make Lloyd look away, confusing her immensely.
"Kratos told me that it's not enough to stop this from happening. Probably even triggered it…" His thumb brushes against the creases in her palm. Something hollow leaves his throat, a sound that she can't identify. "It's… some birthday present I made. I can't even make a good necklace for you."
There was a reason she was meant to die before. Her continued existence only brings him more pain. I've been sick since the beginning…
She must have been crying, because Lloyd leaves his seat then to hug her close.
"You can't-"she starts, but hiccups. Her tears choke her, and her lungs hurt even more, for whatever terrible thing her body is housing. She feels his arms encircle her back, one hand much too near her shoulder, where a crystallized monstrosity is hiding beneath her clothes. "You can't think that about yourself. Please, Lloyd…" I can't take it.
His breath is shaking along with her. It is so rare to hear him make such a sound. "Then you need to do the same."
But doesn't he realize how terrible she is at promises?
His embraces have always been tight, always enough to make her lose her breath, if only for a short time. She had not been able to weep back then, underneath the Sylvarant sky, asking him to keep a secret. It had been too much to ask. No friend would do that to someone so kind and hurting as much as he had been.
Colette tries to hide her face within his jacket, bright red so that she will never miss him in the darkness. He is a beacon that she could always follow – but even a guide gets tired, even a guide needs time away from pain. Maybe her death will be a blessing. He won't have to worry about anything more again.
Yet he is warm and his heartbeat is a steady cadence that is able to slow the track of her tears. His hands rub against her back in soft circles, sending her thrills that filled the well of her guilt. She thinks she can feel his mouth press into her hair, too light to be a kiss. Or maybe she is just tired.
Then his fingers brush against her side, making her flinch. His touch was intense, plying through the fabric of her dress, pressing against that coating of crystal, hard and cracked and grotesque.
Seeing the movement, Lloyd pulls his hand away.
"Does it hurt when I…?"
She shakes her head. "No." I just don't want you to feel it. I don't want you to know anymore of how disgusting I am.
She hears someone coming up the stairs.
"Lloyd, that's enough for now."
Kratos' voice is always level, betraying little, even to her attuned hearing. Lloyd jumps to his feet, though his hands still clench, with his eyes always drifting back to her.
"There's a situation happening at the schoolhouse," Kratos continues. "I think it's prudent that you have a look."
Lloyd still looks unconvinced.
"I'll be okay," Colette tells him, rubbing her eyes. "I'm… feeling better. I'll see you real soon."
She smiles for him, weak and guilt-filled. Lloyd returns it in kind.
"Okay. Promise, right?"
She could try to not lie to him, for once.
"I promise."
"Is it that hard for you to trust me?"
I just didn't want anyone to worry.
"What's happening to you?"
I don't know.
"Why didn't you say anything?!"
This is just what it means to be an angel, isn't it?
In her effort to keep her secrets, she piled more and more responsibilities onto his shoulders. She had felt that weight on him when he embraced her, his legs trembling, his breath shaking.
It was the equivalent of trying to repair a glass vase, gathering the shards in her hands, and only cutting them on her fingers until there was blood staining the pieces. And by no choice, another pair of hands must take the pieces from her, only to get cut themselves.
Sin is always overwhelming. It reaches out from her and takes everyone with her until there is nothing left.
There is a way to save her, even now.
"Kratos told us to research some ancient records. About the Kharlan War, I think?"
Anyone can see Raine's eyes racing at Lloyd's words, at the way she crosses her arms, her mind trekking across vast plains of knowledge. "Regal, I recall you saying there being archives back in Syback regarding Mithos and his history."
It is amazing to see everyone already discussing, collaborating, and confirming their decision to find the path for Colette's salvation. It makes her heart wrench and her eyes nearly tear up again. It also overwhelms her, chilling her skin. They have to go through so much trouble for me.
In her selfishness, she asks Lloyd if she would be able to stay by his side. He promises her that she would.
Lloyd always kept his promises.
But doesn't it get tiring?
In the inn at Sybak, after they found the book for what they needed, she wanted some time to herself. The city is not as bustling as Meltokio, and there aren't many shops around, but the streetlamps are pretty, and the sky still shows her the stars. Even though they were not the same stars that Lloyd and her would gaze at, with its separate patterns, and its foreign expanse.
"Can't sleep?"
She had heard Lloyd leave the inn not long after she did. It still doesn't make her stop from reaching the part of the University Town, where the river clashes with the sea. She seats herself on its edge, feet meters away from the water. Lloyd then sits with her, close by, his presence a comfort.
She doesn't answer him right away, keeping her gaze on the stars. "This is a nice place, isn't it?" Her hands stay clasped together over her knees. "I think Professor Sage likes it here. There's so many books for her to read."
"Colette."
The note in his voice make her turn, but he is already so close to her. His hand reaches out, but she shrinks back, her body tense, her mind guilt-filled once more.
There is a hurt in Lloyd's eyes, and then a shyness she can't really recognize. "Do you… not want me to touch you?"
It would be easier if she just says yes. Quick and direct, then the hurt for him won't last. But she can't bring herself to say that, so instead, "I'm afraid you'll hate me."
It takes Lloyd a moment more to try again, to place his hand over her curled ones, to unlink her fingers so he can intertwine them with his own. "I already told you I wouldn't. Not ever."
"I've been nothing but trouble for you."
"No, you haven't."
"I've made you go through so much."
"Colette. That's enough."
She doesn't want to cry again, but her shoulder is getting worse. She has seen the disease eat up her arm, almost reaching her wrist. Soon she will need to wear gloves just to be passed as normal. Lloyd is holding onto that hand now. If he even so much as lifts that sleeve, he will see it again.
She shakes. "I'm not worth this-"
His kiss is bruising and rough, his hands reaching out to grip her sides. She doesn't have the will nor the want to move away. She sinks into him, closing her eyes, her mind painting an array of stars for her.
They remain close, unable to say much else. His lips brush against her cheek, her neck, and just over her collar bone. She doesn't want him to discover much else, and when she shakes again, he stops, though he keeps his arms around her. The water sloshes against the walls, the lights above them hum, attracting moths that swish around the glow.
"I'm afraid," she whispers, still unable to look at him.
He kisses her forehead, and his shaky breath tells her that he is close to weeping himself. "Not of me. Please."
She can try to make this promise, too.
"Colette," Raine had asked her before they left Iselia. "Are you afraid?"
She had already packed her things, her room looking even emptier than before. Her letter was safely within the possession of her father, and her grandmother's advice was tucked away in her heart. Her hand reached up to her neck, saddened that she would have to make Lloyd break his promise.
"It's what I'm born to do. So…" She turned to her teacher, smile at the ready, her giggle light and airy. "Let's try not to worry!"
Even Raine looked less than convinced, but that was fine. She promised to take her to the Tower. That was all that mattered.
The items they need for her cure are not easy to acquire. But no one speaks about giving up. No one speaks about leaving her body to fester in the mess she had made. No one would ever think that of her.
The disease has spread to her right hand finally, but only to the side of it, just underscoring her palm. If she clenches her fist, it will stay hidden. It is hard to though. Even a soft flex of her hand sends her slivers of pain.
In their travels, Lloyd rarely leaves her side. His hands always reach for her own, speaking of something desperate. She would try to let him hold her left hand, keeping her right far away. But once back at Altessa's, before they would attempt to go to Heimdall, he takes her outside of the house while the group converses with the dwarf.
"Let me see your hand."
The familiarity of that is almost too much, this echo of concern and fear. She lets him lift up her palm. Nothing changes in his eyes when he upturns her hand, watching the sunlight play off her now crystallized skin.
But he can see what little time they had left.
"It's… really gross, isn't it?" she says, trying to make light of it. But the words hurt too much when they leave her. "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. "You don't need to keep hiding. It's too much." He raises his eyes to her, bright, and on the verge of tears. "You don't need to."
She can't imagine doing anything else though.
Seeing how she can't answer, how locked in her voice was, he leans forward to kiss her again, softer this time, deep but quick because the voices of their friends were gathering. He doesn't say anything else to her after that, but he keeps hold of her hand when they go back to the others, ignoring a stray stare here or there.
Lloyd never seems to care about that. His need for her is anxious and clinging. He will never be able to let go of her.
There's nothing she can do to save him from more pain.
Once, she had tried teaching Lloyd her prayers. She had taken the book with the gold filigree cover, setting it on her lap as they sat together in his room. It was in second-grade, and one of the first times she had ever visited his large house, with his large father, and his large dog. "This is Psalm 5!" she had declared cheerily. "It's about asking the Goddess to help forgive yourself."
Lloyd's eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the pages. "Hm, if you say so!" He shrugged. "Seems like a lot of work though just to say sorry."
"Well, it gets easier when you keep repeating it a lot. I have it memorized now!"
"Cool, like my Dwarven Vows!" Lloyd said, now fully understanding the importance. "But, um, does it mean you keep doing bad things then?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said that's about forgiveness," he pointed at the page, though not exactly at the right section. "So you're asking the Goddess to keep forgiving you. Do you get in trouble a lot or something?"
She looked at the page, then back to him, blinking owlishly. She thought back to her pastors. "It's because we're human. So we keep making mistakes."
He scratched at his head. "Even if you don't mean to make them?"
"Yeah. You have to, umm… always be better."
"Oh, okay." Still, he looked at her. "But what mistakes did you ever make?"
To this day, she can't remember what she said to him.
Once they retrieve the Mana Leaf Herb, they all leave Heimdall in higher spirits. Colette can no longer deny the hope on the horizon. It is enough to quell the guilt inside her for just a little bit longer. And perhaps there is something addicting in the way Lloyd refuses to ever be too far from her. The chances for kisses are few, but every night he would hug her before they leave for bed. Her side may ache more and more, but she no longer flinches when he reaches for her.
In Meltokio, everyone decides to recuperate before their journey to the Tower. And while Zelos' mansion may have been large, there were only a few bedrooms available, leaving plenty to having to crash on the couch, however opulent it was.
It was unspoken that Colette would have one of the rooms of her own. "Whatever's comfortable for you," Raine tells her, pulling Colette's sleeve back down. No one else saw to the extent of her disease than her professor had. It was thanks to her healing arts that any progression had finally slowed, no longer eating up an inch of Colette's flesh each day.
Still, she sees the way Raine's brows furrow when she looks over the marks, the wrinkle in her frown, the brief half-second of hesitance when she reaches for Colette's arms to mutter another salving spell for her.
Colette doesn't blame her.
But late that night, sleep keeps avoiding her. She thinks about counting the stars to help pass the time, like she used to. There is a window to the side – even a balcony. She makes to rise but her chest grips her. Sharp claws that go through her lungs, a burning brand that sears her heart over and over. With a muffled cry, she leans over herself, bringing her knees up to her chest to minimize the pain that keeps pounding within her. Maybe it's over.
She can't even react when someone knocks on her door, and even less when they open said door. She remembers Sheena, her face pale as Colette heaved out her breath. Every time she had rubbed her back, the small bell would ring, soft and lonely. Did she-
Lloyd walks into her room quickly. Has he been waiting? Sitting outside her door, in case she needed anything?
"Colette? Hey!" He reaches out for her, as he always does, bringing her body near. It stills her shaking, the pain receding. "Let me get the Professor. Maybe she can-"
"No, she's seen enough of me." Let her sleep without seeing something disgusting. She takes a deep breath, afraid of how she sounds. "And… I'm feeling better anyway. I don't want to bother her."
She doesn't lie about that. She can feel the warmth of Lloyd's hands against her, ungloved now. Their touch wards off the burn pulsing with her heart.
But Lloyd's face visibly struggles. Sometimes, she wonders if he can still hear her thoughts, like back at the final seal, before Remiel would take her away. "Colette, she's not tired of you. None of us are."
"I…" Colette directs her eyes to the pillow. The silence is thick, but her mind continually shouts her down, reminding her of this pain, this pain of hurting everyone around you. "I just don't want her to have to see… this again." She can barely gesture to herself.
Lloyd, standing by her bed, keeps his hands on her. One angles down to brush her arm, to press against the material of her clothes.
"Is that why you won't let me see you?"
The weight of his words settles on her mind, but gently so, not enough to make her knees buckle. "You see me," she protests.
She feels him sit down next to her on the bed, refusing to release her hand. "Please, Colette."
Maybe she is scared her life will end before they can get the Mana Fragment. Maybe she is scared that the cure won't work, that she will soon become this crystal statue that can no longer breathe.
"Why… do you want to see any of it?" She can't name it, as if to deny it will make it stop existing.
"Because I love you."
He says it like it is something so obvious, a fact that she should know. And she does, she does know. Why else did she write that letter for him, to urge him to stay away and live freely without her? But Lloyd is stubborn, and that is another thing that she loves about him in return.
"But I'm disgusting," she whispers as a final defense.
His fingers interlock with hers. "I already told you that you're not."
A pastor told her this. She forgot which.
"A Chosen must be pure in heart, mind, and body. You give yourself for the world and only the world. Free of want, free of sin, free of corruption. And the greatest sins are those we hide. The Goddess abhors such deception." He had smiled at her then, wrinkles creasing his cheek. They all had these wrinkles. They were always old, gentle men with voices soft and hands spotted and shaking. "Do you understand, child?"
Colette had only been twelve, but she had nodded all the same.
Because she had not been fully willing to give herself, the crystal was rejecting her. Because she had accepted Lloyd's gift, her body retaliated, determined to end in self-destruction. Because she had denied it from herself, she was dying. "If you wish to live, Chosen One," Kratos had said to her as he left Sybak, back in their first days in Tethe'alla. "You must remove that worthless necklace."
She had denied to do so, no matter that it was a 'foolish sentiment.' Nothing for Lloyd was foolish.
But hiding. That was a habit hard to break.
Even when Lloyd helps her out of her clothes, she can't help but cover up her chest, huddling in on herself. No, here is where the worst of the disease is, engulfing her left breast and shoulder, where spots of it speckle down her stomach. Suddenly, she can't do this. She wants to cover up the markings, the discolorations, the sheer ugliness of it. "Please don't look…"
Lloyd says nothing, but she feels his eyes take in the patterns that take her flesh. Ugly like warped glass, just as sharp and uncomfortable. And yet, she also feels him unearth her hands from her skin. His touch is so warm, and she melts before him. His fingertips brush against its hardness, sometimes caught against the miniscule cracks.
"I'm not…" she starts to say before a sob takes her voice. Lips press against her chin, and his hands continue to slide up her torso, to caress her side, to move past her navel to feel the duality that her skin offered.
"You're still you," he whispers, then kisses her fully on her mouth. She gasps and clings back to him.
At first, her skin still feels inflamed, and sometimes it is hard to breathe, but Lloyd's hands work better than Raine's spells. Her shivers become symptoms of both pleasure and thrill instead of fear. His mouth travels over her, and he always brings her near his own bare chest, never shying away from her body. No pause, no second left to be spared. The moon outside is so bright, lighting up the room so that nothing can be left as the imagining of a shadow. And still he keeps her close.
Still, he keeps her close.
She craved the times when Lloyd would catch her in a lie.
"Hey," he said after school, turning in his seat to face her. "Tell me what's wrong."
Colette had frozen in her seat. The backdrop of the other children leaving the classroom were too soft, too unreal compared to his voice.
"Oh? Nothing's wrong," then finished with a soft laugh.
"No, see, you keep doing that." He placed his chin atop crossed arms, practically laying on her desk. "You always do that weird giggle when you're trying to hide something."
She didn't even know she did that.
"Just… um…" She fiddled with her hands, watching their paleness play against the dark oak of her desk. "I'm fine, just… I don't feel like going to the Chapel today…"
She never expected the grin to form on his face, ecstatic and hopeful and so surreal. "So you wanna skip out on them?"
"O-oh?"
"Yeah, we should sneak out together somewhere." He nodded, already deciding. "There's this fair happening outside of town. Let's go there!"
"Ah, but…" she fidgeted, but she already knew she was fronting. Her lessons taught her that appearances were always so important, always so vital. "I think they're expecting me."
"Just say you're helping me with homework for, uh… charity! Yeah!"
She was already forming plans as to what treats they would buy at the fair. "I have to keep it a secret from them."
Lloyd tilted his head at her, still smiling. "It's not really a secret if I know about it too, remember?"
She may not have told him all her secrets, but it was a start. And every time she told him something, she felt like she dodged another mistake.
"Yeah," she whispered, breathless in her excitement. "I remember."
Zelos' balcony is not like the one at Dirk's home, this one seemingly carved from marble instead of carefully arranged with wooden floorboards. But still, it is a place for her and Lloyd to sit with each other afterwards, watching the stars of another world billow out from the dark. They are wrapped in blankets, keeping the warmth of each other enclosed.
She still can't bring herself to look down at her body. It is an affliction she wants to be rid of as soon as possible. But time is paused now, or it felt like it was, as Lloyd's hands stay on her, traveling over her different landscapes.
It was more purifying than a prayer, more freeing than a sermon. She no longer feels so tainted, and could swear she feels the waves of her sickness receding. A jolt here or there still happens, but it did not send her to despair.
"I still get to stay by your side?" she asks him once again, needing a voice to fill the air.
His embraces will always be tight, and those are the only times that she is okay with losing her breath. "I've never wanted you to leave it in the first place."
His love is redemption itself, and to deny that would be the greatest sin, she reasons.
So she doesn't.
.
.
.
"I keep secrets," she said to him, hiding her face in her book, suddenly shy and embarrassed. "And… I shouldn't keep secrets. That's what they say."
Lloyd poked her cheek teasingly. "What secrets?" he said with a grin. "Come on, you gotta tell me now!"
"They're dumb secrets," she whispered. Lloyd had to lean close to hear her.
"If it's wrong to keep a secret to yourself, then sharing it should be a good thing, right?"
She blinked. Was that how it worked?
Lloyd nodded, already knowing what she thought. "Yeah, just tell me! …And I promise I won't tell anyone else. Cross my heart and hope to die!"
She shook her head. She didn't like that promise. "Not that. How about, uh, cross your heart and… hope to eat tomatoes!"
Lloyd made a face, one that sent her giggling. "Ahh, fine! Just tell me!"
"Okay," she said, then took a moment to herself, closing her eyes, speaking words within her chest. "Okay… okay."
So she told him.
