"Lockon Stratos. It's not nice of you to keep doing this, if you hadn't noticed."
The ethereal figure turned slightly to fixate Tieria's form with one lazy green eye, the eyepatch still covering the space where his right one had been. Crippled, even in death.
"It's not my intention to offend," He replies, his voice that same, lazy drawl it had always been- but there was something different, something not quite of this world. "Only that you looked like you needed someone to talk to. Am I wrong?"
Crimson eyes narrowed slightly and averted their gaze away from the apparition standing next to the viewing deck window, choosing to look anywhere, anywhere but there. Tieria was convinced that these apparitions kept happening simply because of his inability to let go that passion that Allelujah had admonished him for; a feeling he had never known he had possessed, but was awakened when he had realized only too late that there were some things in the world that he didn't understand. Some people he didn't understand.
He had come to the conclusion, in a calm moment after he'd consoled himself of Lockon's death, that he had wanted to know more. Perhaps he could've gained some of the understanding that was now beyond him, lying just out of reach in a plane to where he was unable to follow, tempting him with the promise of what could've been. How he could've changed sooner.
But it was just that, now. Beyond him. Beyond even Veda.
And that was why Tieria was attempting, trying his goddamned best to ignore these visions, as it was his responsibility as a meister to be in control of his own faculties, wasn't it? Was it his own mental instability, or—
No. To humor that theory with a consideration would be to validate all the things he'd been trying so hard to keep the lid tight on. He'd read, once, that when suffering trauma or great emotional discomfort, it often did strange and unspeakable things to one's brain and psyche; and this was just it, this was just—
"Tieria."
I refuse. I refuse to look.
"Tieria—"
Go away—I'm not this weak--
"Ah--!"
The violet-haired meister wasn't sure what caused him to jump, startling his gaze upwards. Perhaps it was the feeling of the soft, brown curls brushing against his cheek, or perhaps it was the feeling of being pulled towards two, strong, tangible arms and enveloped in a warmth that he hadn't expected any sort of apparition or ghost to possess.
He felt fingers running up his back, up over his pilot suit jacket to come and rest on the nape of his neck, tugging him towards 'Lockon' gently, his head nestling in the white sheepskin of the vest that he'd grown so used to.
Tieria was frozen in place, frozen for so many reasons- this wasn't happening, just a horrible trick by his own cerebral cortex to take a jab at the fact that, despite how much he'd like to say so, he wasn't quite over the other's demi-
"Tieria," That voice again, rougher now, but whispering softly into his ear. A knee-jerk reaction, the crimson-eyed man tensed at the sensation of warm breath ghosting over his neck—how was this possible?—but he was merely pulled closer. "Stop thinking so much."
There were a few, long moments of silence that dragged out in the viewing deck after Lockon had spoken, and then Tieria decided to reply, his own gloved hands tentatively reaching out to bunch into the other's shirt as what seemed to be infuriatingly unstoppable tears started to well in his eyes.
He hated this.
He hated that this kept happening, that Lockon kept appearing to him—
… but at the same time, Tieria could never ignore him, no matter how haunted he felt.