[A/N: alright so I haven't played IV yet, or actually finished Duodecim, but I love the dynamic between Kain and Cecil, and I just had to explore it! I don't have much of an idea of how to characterize either of the two, so please bear with me, and tell me what I'm doing wrong/what I did well/what I could do to improve or just generally give me tips for writing them, because I'm nervous... I also kind of screwed with the plot of Duodecim, so, uh, yeah. There's that. *fiddles thumbs* ...hope you like it.]
Two figures stood quietly conversing as the starlight glimmered down on Lunar Subterrane. The first spoke in the monotonous murmur, while the second spoke with rich fervor. Regardless of whatever sort of conversation the two were engaged in, it was obvious that the first figure was without a specific resolve. A deep, moon-violet mask shielded his gaze.
"It isn't going to end, is it..." Cecil asked flatly, dropping the somewhat cheery tone he'd worn so well a minute before.
"It isn't." Kain confirmed. He folded his arms. Cecil let out a sigh.
"I thought as much. Where-where are they even coming from? Those damned manikins. If not for them, surely we would be able to beat those Chaos fiends into the ground!" Anger flooded Cecil's features, and Kain was mildly surprised. Cecil's emotions were not easily tampered with. You'd have to do something downright wicked to coax any sort of genuine anger out of the kind-hearted knight.
"You don't know for sure if we'd be able to win this war; even without the meddling of those abominations." Kain calmed smoothly. Cecil gripped the hilt of his longsword till his knuckles shone white as the moon.
"You're... right." Gently, he released his grip and drew in a deep breath. "No point getting cross over matters that can't be helped..." Cecil smiled bitterly. Kain's expression remained stoic, but inside his mind was whirring.
"One of the other warriors might have found some clue as to where the manikins are coming from; or maybe even how to stop them. We should rendezvous at Sanctuary." Cecil was staring upward towards the sky.
"Yeah... but, Kain?" Cecil turned his eyes from the star-peppered sky to the dragoon beside him.
Kain said nothing, but returned the gaze
"Do you think we'll make it home?" the childlike, sadly hopeless way in which Cecil asked the question shook Kain to the bone, and for a moment, all he could see of the warrior beside him was a child, lost and scared and alone. Kain stiffened.
"I wish I knew."