author's note: This chapter has been a pain in my ass for weeks. I knew ahead of time that it would the hardest to write, and also the longest, and it certainly lived up to both of my expectations. Hopefully it's worth it for all of you, even though it is really, really, really long.
Since I've been doing a lot of writing in advance of this part, the rest of the fic should follow pretty quickly after this. Get ready!
islands in the sea
chapter four - indigo
Hubert wakes early the next morning, an hour after dawn by his estimate, to the sound of soft snoring at his back. He lies still on his side for nearly a minute, listening carefully as he slowly wakes, before reaching for the pair of glasses placed on the very edge of his mattress. When he shifts on the bed and rolls in the direction of the snoring, he has to stifle a gasp of surprise: Pascal is no longer on her bed, but has instead rolled onto his.
He freezes, on his back with his head turned to the side, his glasses still held in one hand, and wonders what in the world he can possibly do. The Amarcian lies curled on her side with a thin blanket tangled around her body - the same blanket she'd used to warm herself in front of the campfire, hours before - and an arm tucked beneath a pillow - his pillow. She's only inches away from him, and appears to be sleeping peacefully, apparently completely unaware of the fact that she's giving the man awake beside her heart palpitations.
Save the times he'd hidden in his mother's bed during storms as a child, Hubert has never slept (or even laid) this close to a woman before. He's been raised to abide by the belief that the sharing of a bed is reserved only for husband and wife, regardless of what such sharing may actually entail. He'd agreed to sleeping on a mattress by hers on the sand because he hadn't wanted them to be separated in the event of danger, but he certainly hadn't expected them to get any closer to one another than they already had. But now, as he hesitantly slides his glasses onto his face and gets a better look at the woman sleeping beside him... now they are very close. It's not as if they're touching, or that they've done anything even mildly inappropriate, but even so...
He thinks about moving, but his heart actually aches at the thought of getting out of bed and leaving her alone, so he stays. He doesn't realize he's watching her sleep until he catches himself reaching out with one hand to brush a lock of hair out of her face; he jerks his arm back and places it rigidly at his side again, frowning, irritated with himself for losing control. He doesn't want to leave her, but he shouldn't be here, beside her, not like this. It's wrong and it's tempting and she's oh so close, and he has to wonder if she'd rolled over next to him on purpose. She hadn't been quite herself, the evening before, had kept him awake late talking about nonsensical topics again, and he'd been worried about her being lonely. So he can't rule out the possibility that she'd woken up and decided to snuggle close, and...
He swallows, feeling his heart fluttering in his chest like some kind of caged bird, and closes his eyes to keep himself from looking at her, from wanting to touch her and stroke her hair and slip his arms around her and kiss her until his lips are bruised. He doesn't know or care what this means, if it means anything at all, because all it's doing is making his feeling of wanting even more severe, almost painful. After barely a day and a half on the island, he already doesn't think he can keep himself from wanting more from her than he should.
He loves her, without rhyme or reason, has spent more than two years loving her and wanting to do nothing but tell her the way he feels. But he has no courage, no desire to risk his heart, not when he doesn't know what she thinks of him. And his worst fear is that what she thinks will turn out to be nothing at all, that one day he'll watch her walk away with another man - that he'll never even have the chance to hold her close and tell her that he loves her, that he would give up everything for her if it meant she would be happy for even a moment.
It's against his better judgement that he rolls away from her, off of the mattress, and rises to his feet on the sand, but she only stirs and doesn't wake. He pauses, looking down at her sleeping soundly, and it actually hurts. And even when he gathers a change of clothes and trudges down the beach with the intention of taking a bath, the pain doesn't stop.
When he trudges back to their camp nearly half an hour later, having floated on his back in the ocean for quite some time trying to convince himself that he would be fine and that it didn't matter how either of them felt, Pascal is nowhere in sight. He's throwing his third set of clothing over the ropes and beginning to inspect the previously soaked shirt and pants from the evening before when the Amarcian comes bounding out of the ship, dressed in a tight striped tank top and denim shorts. "Hey hey!" she greets him, grinning broadly. "Where'd you get off to so early?"
"I was bathing."
"Ooh yeah, totally forgot about doing that." She plants her feet in the sand and puts her hands on her hips, giving him a look that he knows from experience means trouble. "Ready to go?"
"... go?"
"Yeah, go! You know, to the big island!"
He sighs, stepping back from the clotheslines. "Pascal, it is still very early in the morning. Not only do we need to eat some kind of breakfast before even beginning to think of traveling, we haven't fashioned any kind of paddle or oar to help move the raft, assuming it remains floating and is capable of getting us both there and back without certain death. And we haven't even considered the possibility of sharks or other dangerous sea life pouncing on us, or the other islands being populated by dangerous monsters - "
"Pessimist," she interrupts, still grinning.
" - and you haven't bathed!" he finishes, undeterred by her remark. "Not to mention that your sister may attempt to contact us while we are away, and I know full well that you haven't been checking the communication device very often at all."
"I just checked it. Seriously, like ten seconds ago." She folds her arms behind her head, looking up at him with an absolutely careless expression, and Hubert isn't sure if he envies her ability to ignore danger or wants to smack her upside the head for it. He mostly just wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she promises to listen to him, for once. "Look, Hu, I get that you're worried. And that's totally cool. But - "
"It is not cool," he interjects, scoffing, "at all. I am trying to be realistic. We are much safer staying on this island than we are venturing out in a boat. What if we are caught in a storm and drowned? What if we find the other island populated with monsters? What if - " He sees that her expression isn't changing at all, that she's not getting upset or smiling or laughing at him, that she's just standing there listening. "What if," he starts again, and forgets what he was planning to say. "... what?" he asks her, confused.
"Nothing. I'm just hearing you out, is all."
He gapes at her and makes an absolutely embarrassing noise. "Buh - ?"
"I get it, I said. You're worried. And I'm glad you're worried. I sure as heck don't take these things into consideration. You know that just as well as I do." She nods. "But sometimes you worry a little too much, y'know? And it keeps you from ever having any fun. Unless you take a chance every now and then, Hu, you're never going to be happy." She turns away from him, spinning to face the ocean. "Sometimes it really is better to risk everything than it is to sit around being scared all the time. Even if you get hurt... at least you went for it."
Hubert closes his mouth, opens it, and then closes it again. He knows she's talking about their trip, but it feels like she could be talking about something else, too - about the way he's feeling for her, and how scared he's been of acting -
"That's what I think, anyway." She looks over her shoulder at him, and her gaze is still level, her voice steady. "And that's why we make a good team, isn't it? You're always careful and smart and super prepared, and I come up with all the crazy ideas that usually work out but go running right into things without ever thinking twice. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be dead. But if it wasn't for me, you'd never have any fun."
"Why are you saying this?" he asks her, too dumbfounded to do anything but speak his mind. "You've never said anything like this - "
"I dunno. Maybe 'cause you were trying so hard to cheer me up last night? I kinda feel like I should return the favor. You seem totally irritated right now, so..." She looks back in the direction of the ocean again. "I know you already told me that you're just angry with the situation we're stuck in, and that it's not me that's upsetting you, but... I guess I still feel like I have to work extra hard to make you happy."
His chest starts to ache again. "Pascal..."
"... yeah. So, hey, if you don't want to go to the island, it's no big deal! It probably is going to be pretty dangerous, and - " Her voice starts to waver just slightly. " - and, I mean, I can go by myself. That way you don't have to worry me about dumping you into the water again, right?" She laughs, but the sound is forced and makes his pain even worse. "... right?"
"Pascal," he starts again, and walks to her, swallowing down the lump in his throat, "stop."
"Stop what, Hu? I'm just saying - "
"I will most certainly not allow you to make such a journey alone. If you are set on being torn apart by monsters or eaten by sharks, it is my duty to be right there with you." He stops when he arrives by her side, and reaches out to ruffle her hair without looking, pretending that he isn't blushing and that this still doesn't feel awkward and stupid. "I promised to protect you. You must allow me to do at least that."
She sounds shocked. "B - but - "
"And," he cuts her off, lifting his hand, "I am not upset with you. I have never been upset with you. Surely you must know that by now." He frowns, looking out at the ocean, still not brave enough to meet her eyes with his. "Furthermore, you are under no obligation to worry about my happiness. If we are to be journeying a mile across an unfamiliar sea to explore a potentially dangerous island, my feelings are the last thing you should be concerned with."
He waits after saying this, not daring to look at her or give any further indication of his thoughts. There's almost a full minute of silence before he hears her give a loud sigh, and when he glances to his side he sees her shaking her head. "You really know what to say in times like this, don't you?"
He clears his throat. "You did say that I seemed good at cheering you up."
"I dunno what to think of you sometimes, Hu." She laughs softly, and the tremor in her voice is already gone. "Are you sure you wanna go? I really don't mind heading over there by myself..."
"I am absolutely certain." He crosses his arms. "Your sister would murder me in cold blood if I returned with the report that I had allowed you to drown while crossing the ocean to explore Amarcian ruins."
She laughs again, and he finally allows himself a glance in her direction; her expression is shifting into a smile, and she lifts a hand to smooth her hair, her words coming steady now. "So you'd rather drown with me, huh?"
"Well," he starts, "I would at least make some attempt to save us first."
"Can you even swim?" she teases.
"That is beside the point!" He huffs and turns away, moving in the direction of the ship, listening to her burst into giggles behind him. "Let's get this over with."
"Aye aye, captain!" she returns, and then she giggles again, and Hubert tries his hardest to hide the smile on his mouth as she comes to help him gather their supplies, because it really is good to hear her laugh.
After retrieving their weapons and packaging a bag full of items for their trip - and eating a hasty breakfast of bananas, which Hubert begrudgingly accepts as a necessary sacrifice for him to make - Pascal drags their boat to the shore and they shove out into the water. They still don't have paddles or oars, but as the Amarcian demonstrates, they don't even need them: a wind arte cast carefully behind the boat sends them moving steadily north, in the direction of the large island.
The trip is surprisingly uneventful, even with Pascal leaning half-off the raft and her shotstaff almost touching the water. The boat holds and doesn't leak, doesn't even rock dangerously, and they cross the distance of about a mile in less than an hour's time. When they reach the safety of land and drag the boat ashore, to a patch of sand as far away from the water as possible, they are faced with a familiar sight: the middle of the island holds a dense cluster of tall trees, tangled vines, and lengthy stalks of bamboo. They both groan and complain at length, but it's obvious that they have no choice, and the only thing they can do is work to create a path.
By the time they cut their way through the maze of vines and bamboo and sight the ruins through the trees, another hour passes. At the end of it, Hubert is tired and sore, and Pascal is surely in the same state, but she seems to immediately catch a second wind when they emerge from the jungle and step into a small clearing. Before them is an obviously aged, run-down building of some kind - the Amarcian ruins, of course, that they've been working so hard to reach - and at the sight of them her eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh," she chirps, clapping her hands together, "look at that!"
For a moment they stand quietly together, looking at the ruins in front of them; Hubert allows his eyes to sweep from one side to the other, taking in the sight of broken columns that border some kind of door, elaborate decoration, and a high roof that appears broken in certain places. The earth around the building's foundation is cracked and dusty, lacking grass in patches, and he thinks he sees what might be a hole along one side. "This place is definitely old," he hears his companion observe. "Probably even older than the ruins underneath Wallbridge..."
"How are you able to tell?"
"Eh, it's kind of an educated guess, but those columns - " She points in their direction. " - and the other accents, too, aren't there for any reason other than for decoration. Most Amarcian builders and architects eventually abandoned the idea of doing anything that wasn't, like, absolutely necessary. But back when they were still being inspired by the designers in Windor, they did fancy stuff like that all the time." She nods. "But these are Amarcian, alright."
He cracks his knuckles, flexing his sore arms a few times. "The building appears to have endured a significant amount of damage," he comments, "at least on the outside. I fear the passage of time has not been kind on your ruins."
"Yeah, I see that..." She bites her lip. "Kinda worries me. We'll have to be careful when we go in, 'cause if the foundation's weak, the floor might drop out underneath us."
"Excellent." He exhales. "And we must still be concerned with the possibility of monsters."
"Well, none so far, right? But I guess... if there were any, they'd be hiding out somewhere safe, huh?" She laughs nervously. "Now that you mention it, I'm pretty glad I didn't come here alone."
"As am I." He checks the belt around his hips to ensure that both sides of his weapon are securely holstered in place, taking a glance at the staff on her back while he's at it, and then clears his throat. "Shall we proceed?"
They walk forward together in the direction of the door, taking care to step over cracks and avoid upturned rocks as they draw close. The door left between the elaborate columns is made of wood and half rotted away, and a mere push from Pascal results in the entire thing falling off its hinges and dropping in pieces to the floor. "Well that takes care of that," she says, laughing. "And here I was worried we'd have trouble getting in."
"Apparently not." They step over what remains of the door and enter the building. The first room is very large, and to Hubert appears to be some kind of lobby. The floor, though dusty and damaged, is made up of stone tiles pushed tight together, and there are several more ornamental columns in the corners and in various places on the open floor. There's a pile of wood and various rubble near the entrance - what might have once been a desk, he thinks - and a few half-broken chairs and what may have even been a table on the right side of the area. "Interesting," he murmurs, frowning slightly, and glances to the ceiling, which is spotted with holes of various sizes that allow sunlight to flood the room. "How long do you think this building has been here?"
"Without some testing I wouldn't be able to tell you, but we've gotta be looking at the thousand year mark." She steps forward a few paces, turning her head from side to side - and then suddenly freezes, spinning around to look at him. "Hu, come here! Quick!"
He obeys, blinking down at her. "What is - "
"Listen," she silences him, and he is still, lifting his head. He doesn't really hear anything, save what might be a soft gust of wind outside, but... but there is something off, something he can just barely hear, a steady sound somewhere within the building. "Maybe I'm losing it," Pascal starts, quietly, "but I think I hear running water."
"Impossible." He gapes at her. "We are inside a building on the middle of an island. There can't possibly be a source of water here - "
"Come on!" she cuts him off, and jogs in the direction of the back of the room. Hubert reminds himself, as he follows, that the word "impossible" just doesn't exist in Pascal's vocabulary, and the more he says it, the harder she will try to prove him wrong. When they reach the back of the room they find two elaborately decorated doors, one of which is open and appears to lead down a hallway to a room with even more doors. The other is closed, but the Amarcian slides it almost effortlessly aside and charges through it. "WHOA!" she yells, and when he follows, even he has to fight back the urge to shout. "How in the heck - ?" she continues, and turns wide eyes up at him. "Am I freaking dreaming right now?!"
"I don't think you are," he murmurs, and surveys the scene in front of them. The room isn't so much a room as it is some kind of indoor habitat. The tiles on the floor give way to green blades of grass, and although there's a ceiling it's made of some kind of grated material, allowing sunlight to pour in over everything. Several trees are clustered together on one side, and Hubert sees fruit on the grass by their trunks - and more hanging from some of the lower branches. But what gives them both pause is the fact that there is water running in this room: there's a tall metal contraption connected to a back wall made of stone, and a pipe at its bottom feeds water into a small creek that runs through the grass in a narrow "U" shape. The other end of the creek leads back to another large pipe, presumably taking the water back outside the building. "This is amazing," he observes.
"Look!" Pascal grabs his arm and tugs, pointing with her other hand, and that's when they notice the animals. There are long-eared rabbits of various colors behind the trees, some snoozing while others hop through the grass, and small birds are perched in the branches, fluttering their wings. "Holy cow," she breathes, "this is like some kind of mini ecosystem..."
"Have you ever seen anything like this?"
"No, but I..." She lets out a long breath. "I can't believe this! I read about this once, but I never thought I'd actually find it. Supposedly there was a test a really long time ago on water purification, and... I kinda think this is it." She gestures to the metal on the back wall. "One of my ancestors wrote about using evaporation, humidity, and a boiler to essentially remove salt from ocean water to make it suitable for drinking. That's how I knew how to do what I did back on our island, though it was on a way smaller scale. The thing is, this guy didn't want to test it on people, so he said he did it on animals, and..." She laughs, shaking her head. "... and wanted to see how long an environment could thrive around a source of purified water. Wow, I can't even believe that this is real..."
He watches the rabbits, lifting one hand to his chin. "Assuming that this door hasn't been opened in hundreds of years... this means that the environment within this building has thrived for a very long time."
"You can say that again." She moves slowly forward, to the edge of the creek, and squats down by the edge. He follows, watching her scoop up a palm of water and take a cautious sip - and then her eyes light up. "Oh wooooow..."
"No salt?"
"None. It's even cold." She laughs again, louder this time. "Give me a straw and I could drink this thing dry right now. This is awesome!"
"How in the world does this even work?" He settles down in the grass beside her, and she immediately reaches over to grab the bag off his shoulder, rummaging through it until she retrieves his notepad and pen, which he'd brought along on a whim. "Are you planning to draw it?" he asks.
"I have to. This kind of machine could make a bunch of places habitable, you know?" She tosses the bag into the grass behind them. "I knew how it was supposed to work on a small scale, but nobody's ever gotten it to function on the scale this guy talked about. So I have to figure it out."
He looks from her to the creek, swallowing. "... is the water safe to drink?"
"Yup! Well, supposed to be, anyway." She grins at him. "Go ahead. As soon as I get this thing on paper, I'm gonna take a couple big slurps of my own."
"If I die of poisoning," he announces, "I will curse you with my last breath."
"I'll be dying right along with you," she responds, giggling, and Hubert thinks he should say something in response to that, but he's too busy leaning over the water and trying to drink from his palms to come up with anything. They've only had a little fresh water since arriving on their island, and he thinks that even if he dies in a few hours, he'll be happy because he won't be so impossibly thirsty anymore.
They stay in the room with the creek for a long time. Pascal spends several minutes examining the purification contraption up close, sketching pieces in detail in the pad of paper in her hands and mumbling things aloud that make little to no sense to Hubert. He eventually goes to the trees and picks a few pieces of fruit - apples and oranges, mostly, because there are thankfully no banana plants here. He tries an apple and is surprised to find it ripe and juicy, and even Pascal eats one when she's finished drawing, saying she's tired of fish and bananas. They eat until they're full, then stuff as much fruit into their bag as they can, and neither of them feel guilty only because there's still so much left for the rabbits and birds.
The animals are apparently undisturbed by the presence of humans, not knowing to be scared of them; even when the Amarcian picks up a rabbit and scratches it between the ears, it doesn't appear bothered, and is even perhaps friendly with her, tucking its little head beneath her chin and dozing off to sleep. She laments not being able to have a pet - "Fourier's allergic to every kind of animal there is, except the ones she makes herself," she says - but puts the creature down without making a scene. When they go to leave, they decide to close the door behind them again, knowing that it would be better to keep the animals safe and continue the many generations of life that have undoubtedly existed in the room.
They go to the second door after that, making their way into the hallway that is connected to several other rooms. Like the lobby, the ceiling of the hall is cracked and spotted with holes, and sunlight gleams off the stones pushed together to form gleaming white tiles. Pascal announces almost immediately that this area is a considered a laboratory - and that she knows by the way it's constructed, and how the rooms are sealed off to prevent contamination - and goes barreling into the first room at full speed, eager to keep exploring. "If we've found all this so far," she tells Hubert, nodding at the pad of paper in her hands, "can you imagine what else might be in here?!"
It takes several hours to visit each section of the laboratory. In each room a new discovery is made, and most of them result in Pascal launching into a dizzying explanation of what she thinks they've found, or what the Amarcians may have been researching. Some of their findings don't seem new or unusual to her, but others throw her entirely for a loop; in one instance she actually throws herself on the floor, sprawls out on her stomach, and begins sketching an entire wall of pipes, pumps, and containment chambers. "I think," she announces, when Hubert asks her what she's found, "that this setup was supposed to function the exact same way as the machine attached to Forbrannir. But there's something really different about the way it's supposed to put off steam and hot water, and it's obviously not drawing energy from a valkines, but even so... maybe Fourier would want to see this."
"Interesting," Hubert comments in response, sits down beside her, and rummages around in their bag until he finds an orange. Though he'd expected to be impatient with her, somehow he's perfectly content resting on the dusty floor, peeling the skin off of a piece of fruit, and watching her draw. Perhaps, he thinks, he's learning to appreciate what she does - learning to appreciate the fact that these things make her immensely happy.
By the time they have visited every room of the lab, Pascal has filled up every single page of Hubert's pad of paper - front and back - with notes, drawings, and other scribbled thoughts, and run his pen practically dry of ink. He can't say he minds, however, because his companion is practically bursting with excitement. When they make their way up the hall to the lobby of the building again, she has his pen tucked behind her ear and the notepad under one arm, and is covered practically head to toe with dust and dirt. "This place," she announces, with an enormous grin, "is awesome."
"Have you learned anything about your ancestors?"
"Well, yes and no." She absently wipes dirt off her cheeks. "Nothing in here really told me why Amarcians built a lab on this island, or why they left, either. And although there's a ton of damage, there's really no indication of what might have caused it... or why there aren't any monsters. I at least thought we'd see those boars again..." She shrugs. "But I did learn a lot, and I mean a lot, about what kinds of experiments they were running. Gosh, to be a fly on the wall while they were trying to figure out that water purification system..."
"I am certain you would have fit right in, in a setting like this." He chuckles as she grins up at him, and they pause as they enter the lobby, coming back to the open room full of damaged tile and rubble. The sun is starting to go down, and the light coming in through the holes in the ceiling is noticeably dimmer. "Well," he begins, looking around, "we ought to return to our camp before the sun sets. Have we seen everything there is to see?"
"I think so, but - " She suddenly stops mid-sentence, and before he can ask her what's wrong, she speaks again, almost breathlessly. "Oh, wow. We're not done just yet..."
"What?"
"There's a door over there." She points to the right side of the room, at a wall that is mostly decayed - and when he squints, he can just make out the outline of what appears to be a door tucked away in a shadowy corner. There's a dull golden nameplate above the door, but whatever writing it once bore is long gone, lost to time and exposure to the elements. "I am not really liking this whole door thing. The ancient Amarcians almost never put doors on stuff. Normally it's just big open hallways. And it doesn't really look like it belongs there...?"
He frowns, reaching for the pad of paper and untying the bag on his shoulder. "Shall we investigate?" he asks, tucking the notepad inside the bag - and the pen, too, when she hands it to him, but not without wiping off the dirt on his pants first. "I suppose you won't want to leave until you know what's inside."
"I know it's getting late and stuff, but..." She laughs. "You're exactly right. I have to know what's in there."
"Of course," he sighs, shouldering the bag again. "I am not even sure why I asked."
"Pleeeease can we go look, Hu? Please? Pleeeeeeeease?"
"You don't have to beg." He sighs again, but he's too amused to be seriously agitated. "I live to serve your every whim, Pascal. If you wish to investigate this final door, by all means, we will go - but we are leaving immediately afterwards."
"Yay!" she cheers, and bolts for the corner. Hubert follows, making his best attempt to hide the smile that is trying to force its way onto his face (and mostly failing). By the time he reaches her, she's yanked the door open, and they both gape at what lies behind it: complete darkness. "Umm," she begins, nervously, "so that's not good."
"It appears this hallway is completely intact." He swallows, and when they exchange glances he can see that she appears fairly concerned. "Can you light our path?"
"I can try, but..." She tilts her head slightly, looking back at the hall. "I dunno why this area wouldn't be damaged. This is around where that hole was outside. But now that I'm thinking about it, the building is way bigger on the right side than we've actually seen so far, and..." She purses her lips. "This hallway might be reinforced, which means it's got some really important purpose. So I have to go inside."
"We will be careful." He nods. "Shall we?"
"Really careful," she murmurs, and then unstraps her staff from her back, holding it in front of her. She casts a simple arte, one that causes a small ball of fire to glow at the front of her weapon, and then nods up at him. "This should last for a minute or two before I have to do it again. Let's go."
They start to move slowly, creeping along through the path with the light in front of Pascal's staff to guide them. Though the construction of the hallway doesn't appear any different from the others, it is unlike the other halls in that it remains completely enclosed, and thus completely dark. The floor is cracked and gradually becomes more uneven as they walk along, and after a minute of silence the Amarcian makes a soft, worried humming noise. "So there are no doors in through here..."
"No, there are not."
"I'm a little afraid to ask what this leads to." In the dim light of the fire, Hubert can see her chewing on her bottom lip. "It's kinda ominous, isn't it? And the floor's getting kinda wonky and rough..."
"It is," he responds, taking a large step over a crack. "Have you ever seen anything like this in similar ruins?"
"No, not rea - " The flame in front of her staff suddenly extinguishes, and she yelps, apparently stumbling over her own two feet. He hears her go tumbling to the ground and immediately stops moving, but before he can ask if she's alright, she mumbles something and the fire starts burning again. "Ugh," she starts, looking up at him from the floor, "that wasn't fun."
"I can see that." He extends a hand to her and she accepts it, giving him a grateful nod as he helps pull her up off of the floor. When she stands, he expects her to drop his hand... but she doesn't, instead pressing her palm to his and gently nudging apart his fingers with her own. Hubert feels himself begin to blush and is suddenly glad for the dim light, but he doesn't dare pull away, because who is he to say no if Pascal decides to hold his hand? "A - are you hurt?" he asks, making a feeble attempt to pretend he's not at all affected by what she's doing.
"Nah," she returns, and moves her staff out in front of them again, her eyes meeting his for only an instant. "I just tripped when the light went out. I'm okay."
"Good," he says, and decides to start walking again, assuming that her intention is to hold his hand while they continue down the hallway. Pascal starts moving with him, and he decides almost immediately that he's right, but why - ? Still, he supposes he shouldn't question it, because he truly loves the feeling of her hand in his own, how it's small but not quite delicate, how her fingers are soft but strong from gripping her staff. He would give up almost anything to hold her hand like this on a regular basis, because it feels right to him - but everything feels right to him, of course, when it comes to Pascal.
By the time the fire goes out again, there's enough light in the hallway for the two of them to at least see where they are going. "Looks like there's a big room up there," she says, squinting, and slides her staff onto her back without looking. "Or maybe just a huge freakin' hole in the roof..."
"Or perhaps both."
"Yeah, maybe."
"I am quite surprised that you haven't charged at full speed up this hallway shouting about the amazing discovery you are on the cusp of making." He raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you frightened?"
"No, it's not like that, I'm just..." She shakes her head. "This isn't like any kind of Amarcian passageway I've been through. It's kinda like it was meant to be kept a secret, and lemme tell ya, the ancient Amarcians just did not keep secrets."
"At all?"
"At all. Even today we're raised not to lie to anybody for any reason. I mean, it's not like we all follow it to a T, but it's just one of those things that gets drilled into our heads... y'know?"
"I see." The natural light becomes brighter as they keep moving, and eventually they're able to see an open door at the end of their path, one that leads into an evidently well-lit room of some kind. The expression on Pascal's face seems to indicate that she is nervous, but she continues to keep her pace by his side, her hand still wrapped around his. When they arrive at the door, they step through it together, and they both draw in loud breaths at the sight of the room before them. "What," Hubert begins, gaping, "in the world..."
This area of the building has evidently been heavily damaged. There is only a small strip of floor beyond the door that remains intact, and even it is potentially unstable, lined tiles that are cracked, broken, or even missing. After the floor there is a steep slope of dirt that leads down to a wide ring of murky, brownish water, and it's what the water surrounds that causes their shock. In the center stands a tall, glittering mound of something that looks like crystal. Its surface is smooth, but there are jagged ends and points at the top that seem to indicate a break of some kind; the mound is a rich indigo color, but it seems dull in the low light of the late afternoon. The ceiling above the center of the room has been ripped away in a nearly perfect circle, and Hubert sees what he thinks are fragments of the roof scattered around on the dirt slope and on the edge of the water. "Wooooooow," Pascal breathes, after a pause, her eyes wider than Hubert thinks he's ever seen them, "get a load of this!"
"What is this place?" He takes a tentative step closer, glancing down at his feet to ensure that he's not going to go tumbling down the slope into the water, and Pascal's grip on his hand tightens as she follows. "This... thing... looks familiar. If it was taller, and not... broken, I'd say it looks like - "
"A valkines cryas," she finishes for him, breathlessly, and practically squeals. "Ohmigosh, Hu, it does! It looks just like a valkines!"
"But how is that even possible?"
"Honestly, I don't know." They walk forward together to the edge of the slope, and when the Amarcian turns her head up to look at the glittering, gleaming mound in front of them, Hubert sees her eyes light up. "Okay," she begins, and he can tell from the very first word that she's going to launch into a spectacular kind of scientific theory, "so we know that the eleth on Ephinea is supplied by the three valkines, right? And the valkines are positioned pretty much exactly where they need to be to both keep the balance of eleth throughout the entire planet, and provide energy and cryas for all three nations. As far as we know, the valkines all came into existence, like, eons ago, and aside from the time that Richard got all possessed and crazy-like, they've been totally resistant and reliable, even when attacked. Buuuut..." She lifts a finger. "What if there was another valkines?"
"What would be the purpose of such a thing?" He raises an eyebrow at her. "Theoretically, wouldn't a fourth valkines cryas throw off the planet's balance of eleth?"
"Exactly! There's no need for a fourth valkines, especially one so close to Duplemar. But if something were to happen to one of the existing valkines that would damage it beyond repair, so that eleth could never ever flow back into it, and the balance were to be completely thrown off..."
"You're thinking about the possibility of a replacement valkines cryas?"
"Bingo." She nods. "Say Lambda went nutso again and somehow zapped all the energy out of Duplemar, or blew it up, or... something. There'd be no more water eleth, and everybody in Strahta would eventually have no choice but to move, and then there'd be a ton of overpopulation in Windor and Fendel, and everybody would be super miserable. But if there was a replacement..."
He frowns. "I understand your reasoning, certainly. But how on earth would such a thing even function? The existing valkines are hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and the circumstances in which they were created... aren't they largely unknown to us? The guardian dragons played some role, certainly, but..."
"Yeah. That's the big unknown." She hums to her self, tapping one foot as she looks up and down. "I'd have to study it to be certain, but... this thing could have been an artificial valkines cryas that my ancestors tried to create. If they were thinking about a potential disaster, or if there was a disaster we don't know about in the past, they may have tried to re-create Duplemar - or one of the other valkines - as some sort of... backup plan."
"Yet something appears to have gone wrong over the course of their experiment."
"Mmm, yeah, seems like it."
"Could there still be eleth gathering here?" He gazes up at the opening in the ceiling, at the slowly darkening sky overhead. "Assuming this ever functioned, of course."
"I dunno. I doubt it." She tilts her head to one side. "Honestly, these islands are probably drawing all their life from Duplemar. They're not that far away, after all. But if there was eleth gathering here that wasn't properly enclosed in a valkines... Well, we've only been like a mile from it since crash-landing, so all that exposure would have probably made the both of us show signs of an eleth high, like when we were back in the Zhonecage."
"I see."
"But I don't think either of us have been acting funny or doing things we wouldn't normally do, so - " She suddenly stops mid-sentence, and Hubert sucks in a breath, and they turn in unison to look down at where their hands are still clasped together. They abruptly yank their hands away from one another, and Pascal visibly blushes, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. "Umm... sorry... maybe I'm wrong..."
"S - sorry. I should have - stopped - " He folds his arms together across his chest, feeling heat creeping into his face. He had completely forgotten about holding her hand, somehow, as if it had become natural for him. "... perhaps there is an excess of eleth here, after all."
"Hehe..." She giggles. "That or you just wanted to hold my hand."
"Y - you are the one who grabbed my hand!"
She giggles again, winking at him, and he can do nothing but groan. "Aaaanyway," she starts again, and turns her attention back to the mound before them, "this could be a really amazing discovery, y'know? I've never, ever seen or heard about anything like this before. There's tons and tons of info in the archive back at the enclave, and I haven't had the chance to go through all of it, of course, but I would have thought that some kind of, like... valkines creation project... would be in one of those super old books."
"Unless it wasn't documented - "
"Everything was documented, Hu." She shakes her head at him. "My ancestors were friggin' meticulous. There's books over a thousand years old in the archive! I mean, granted, they're in some weird old language that only the Overseer and Poisson can read, but they wrote everything down."
He frowns. "Then perhaps it was some sort of hidden project. If we've already established that these are Amarcian ruins, isn't it possible that there could have been a group of dissenters or scientists who sought to experiment in secret, after their ideas were rejected by the masses?"
She considers this for a moment, and then she blinks a few times. "Y'know, weirdly enough... you could be right. They weren't supposed to keep secrets, but there's definitely documented history of the ancient Amarcians getting into pointless squabbles over stuff like this. Like, did you know that the technology used in our communicators could have been around almost three hundred years earlier if it wasn't for one scientist getting told he was bonkers for coming up with the idea?"
"Hm. So there are things even your people think impossible."
"Yeah. But lucky for the current batch of Amarcians, I don't think anything is impossible." She smiles up at him. "Seriously, you could be right. Oh! And you know what?" Her expression brightens. "It makes total sense! If they needed somewhere hidden to run their experiments, and they knew about these islands, they could have come here. They would have had to get here by boat, probably, but if there were a ton of Amarcians in Strahta back then, they might not have been missed. They could have even been living here! Or if this was an official lab, I mean - heck, they could have been hiding in plain sight through that weird door, working on an artificial valkines right under the nose of other Amarcians!"
"The history of our world is truly mystifying." He exhales. "I must ask... do you have any theories regarding the current... state... of this area? There is a considerable amount of damage."
"Hmm, good question. I'd bet it's something like what almost happened to Forbrannir. You know how we were all worried about the valkines being pushed for energy and almost going POW and exploding and stuff?" She gestures to the mound in front of them. "I honestly don't know a thing about how this would have been constructed, I mean... without sampling this, I really can't even confirm that it is - was - an artificial valkines cryas. But, okay, assuming it was once up and running, or close to it... if my ancestors pushed it a little too far, it could have blown up right in their faces. Literally."
"And it would have damaged the laboratory and the rest of the island in this matter?"
"Not out of the question. I don't know what type of eleth would have been here, if there even was eleth, or a type... oh, hey, what if they were able to produce artificial eleth? Holy crap!" Hubert sees her eyes begin to practically sparkle again. "Ohmigosh, what if that's what this was for?! If we could replicate their experiments, we might be able to power the world in a whole new way! People in Fendel would never ever have to worry about not having heat, and - and - " She squeals, spinning around, and he watches, amused, as she begins to do some horribly uncoordinated kind of dance. "This is aweeeeeeesome! I am so glad we came in here!"
"I am glad for you." He chuckles softly, still watching her. "However, for the time being, I think we have seen all there is to see on this island. I still worry about the stability of this room, and of the rest of the area. It is getting late, so I think it would be best for us - " He abruptly reaches out and grabs her by one arm, just barely saving her from taking the plunge down the embankment into the muddy water. "I think," he starts again, and watches her grin sheepishly as she regains her footing, "that it would be best for us to make our way back to camp."
"Aw, but Hu..."
"We can return. After we're rescued." He pulls her easily to safety, releasing her arm only when he's certain that she's not going to go dancing away again. "I am certain that Mr. Paradine will want to study these islands further, and your people will certainly have some interest in your findings as well. If you would like to return, I am sure it can be arranged."
"You're probably right." She smiles up at him. "You're gonna come with me, though, right?"
"Of course," he agrees, and she laughs and smiles and spins away, and it's only later, when they're dragging the boat back to the shore, that Hubert realizes the significance of what he's said: it's the first time in two years that Pascal's asked him to do something with her that he hasn't initially rejected out of fear. Somehow he thinks he's learning to have fun, to appreciate her company, and...
And, he thinks, as he catches a glimpse of her smiling to herself, he's falling in love with her all over again. It had hurt him in the morning, his impossible, one-sided love, but right now it feels wonderful, and he wouldn't trade this kind of feeling for anything else in the world.
By the time they return back to their camp, the sun has set and they are both exhausted - and somewhat damp, thanks to the raft springing a leak only minutes before their arrival. They drag the boat to the sand and start a fire, but neither of them have the energy to fish or cook, so they settle for eating fruit and using the fire for warmth and light. Pascal checks their water source and comes up with a full cup to share between them, and although it's warm and doesn't compare to the creek in the lab, it's still good to have something to drink.
When he finishes eating, Hubert piles their fruit peels on a plate, but Pascal's still munching away on a banana when she starts to speak. "Today was wild," she says.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," he chides her, and she swallows, grinning at him. "But... yes. I am quite surprised by just how much we found in those ruins. We will both have much to report upon our return."
"You really wanna get back home, don't you?"
"I would like to take a proper bath," he remarks, chuckling, "and be able to sleep indoors."
"Yeah, yeah, I getcha, but... hey, this isn't too bad, is it?" She tosses her banana peel aside, curling her legs up in front of her until her knees are nearly at her chin. "We may be miles away from civilization, but we've got food, at least enough water to live on, and shelter. Our boat can be patched, meaning we can go explore the other islands if we want, and we've got our weapons so we can defend ourselves if we're attacked. The only thing we really have to worry about is like, one of us getting sick with some kind of jungle fever and keeling over and dying, or getting into a big huge argument that turns us against each other." She laughs. "And I don't see that happening, do you?"
"Not quite." He reaches for the discarded peel and places it on top of the plate, nudging it carefully to one side. "Although I may feel the need to scold you if you continue to litter."
She laughs again, shaking her head. "Sorry. Totally a bad habit of mine. You should see my room right now, I mean... heck, the last time Fourier was inside, she practically fainted. It's not even so much that it's messy, it's just that the Overseer let me borrow a couple things from the archive, and I was trying to brush up on my ancient languages, and then I got distracted by some research on water eleth, so... yeah, there are books, like, everywhere."
"There are worse things with which to make a mess." He lifts his arm, examining the bruise on his wrist from the first day's boar attack; the mark appears to be slowly turning yellow around the edges of the otherwise purple blotch, and doesn't seem to ache as much as before. "Take my brother, for example. His office in Lhant is an utter disaster. During my last visit, he attempted to claim that he left a window open, and that all of his neatly stacked paperwork was blown around the room, but I clearly recall the state of his desk as a child. Someone so disorganized and careless has no business being a lord."
"Aw, you're so harsh on Asbel! I know it's 'cause you love him, though."
"Hrmph. I fail to see how these observations are a reflection of how I feel about my brother."
"If you didn't care about him at all, you wouldn't say a word." She smiles, drumming her fingers along the tops of her bare knees. "You're way too easy to read. You talk about how messy Asbel is because you want him to get better as a lord, and you nitpick at his weak spots because you know he's way too clueless to pick up on them himself. And it's not just Asbel, either, though you're a little different with everyone. Take Sophie, for example." She nods confidently. "Sophie's your childhood friend and all that, and she's totally cute, so it's not like you could ever criticize her. But when you saw her doing something weird during our fights, you'd always make a big deal about covering her, and then you'd teach her later how not to keep her back so open, or what kind of attacks to use. You wanted to be her teacher."
Hubert feels a strange sort of combined pleasure and irritation at her remarks. He'd never thought himself so easy to figure out - nor had he suspected that Pascal, of all people, would be the one to understand his motives and feelings. Though perhaps, he thinks, she's just getting lucky - after all, she has done some dabbling in psychology, surely -
"Am I wrong?" she asks, grinning up at him. "'cause I know I'm not."
"I can't say that you are, but you haven't told me anything that I don't already know." He frowns. "Though I suppose that this was not your goal in the first place - "
"Fine!" she interrupts him, and her grin spreads until it's wide and absolutely mischievous. "Want to know how I think you see me?"
"No," he retorts, immediately, and starts to get up, "absolutely not. You will be one hundred percent wrong - "
"Hey, sit down!"
"No." He scoffs at her as he bends to pick up the plate of fruit peels. "I am tired, and I am going to sleep. If you have any particularly thrilling observations about my thought process, I beg you to save them until the morning."
"Aw, geez, you're no fun."
"This is not the first time you have told me this," he replies, and trudges off in the direction of the ship. When he emerges he sees the Amarcian still curled up at the fire, but her chin's resting on her knees now, and although Hubert is tired and wants nothing more than to sleep, he thinks he ought to at least check on her. "As far as having fun is concerned," he begins when he reaches her again, placing his hands on his hips, "I will leave that up to you. You regularly have enough of it for both of us."
She sighs. "I guess, but... it's really hard for me to enjoy myself if you're being a total grump."
"I wish you would not call me such a thing."
"Oh yeah? I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true!" She wrinkles her nose up at him. "Just when I think you're about to loosen up and say or do something totally awesome and unexpected, it's like you remember that your life is all about being dull and boring and uck."
"My life is dull?" He stares down at her. "I hardly think the time that we have spent on this island is dull. And our journeys around the planet and to Fodra were anything but. But - "
"But the rest of it? The part that involves you sitting at a desk in a stuffy office approving wardrobe changes and not fighting monsters?"
"... I will admit that you are correct with regards to my current position." He gives a sigh of his own before deciding he can hold off on sleeping just a little while longer, and when he sinks down into the sand beside her again, she gives him an approving nod. "But," he continues, "you already knew as much. What I take offense to, Pascal, is the implication that I want my life to be this way."
"Well, it kinda seems like it, doesn't it? You're such a no-nonsense guy." She taps one finger against her knee. "And every time I drop by to try and shake things up a bit, you freak out like it's the end of the world. It's like breaking your routine might kill you."
He chuckles, unable to keep himself from his next comment. "If it's you that is breaking my routine, it might actually kill me."
"Aw, shaddup," she retorts, and swats at him, but a sunny smile has appeared on her face and Hubert is glad to see it. "I've kept you alive this long, haven't I? Honestly, if you would keep me around a little more, I might make things a whole heck of a lot better for you."
"... how so?"
"Well, okay, it's like this. We balance each other out. It's a ying and yang type thing." She nods at him. "You're a total party pooper and I'm a wild and crazy party all on my own. If we're separated, you never have any fun and I have so much fun I get into trouble. But when we're together, I drag you out of your shell and you make me calm down. Together, we just sort of... work, yeah?"
Hubert really doesn't want to admit it, but she's right. She's spot-on and her accuracy is almost deadly in the way it makes his heart start to ache. He knows full well that they work, that they balance each other out, but in his mind that balance just doesn't reach far enough; his side is still heavy and lopsided with love, and he sees none of that on her end - "I agree," he manages, before his thoughts render him completely speechless. "But I - "
"Oh, you know," she interjects suddenly, and her amber eyes light up, "there's this Amarcian belief about, like, personality types and birth months and stuff. You know how some people in Windor think that blood type determines your personality?"
"I have heard of such a thing, yes."
"Amarcians believe something totally different. We're raised to believe that there are three main personalities, and they're all linked to eleth. People supposedly have a little bit more of a certain type of eleth in them - though that part is totally bogus, if you ask me - and that is what determines their base personality. So I definitely have a fire personality, because I'm spontaneous and easygoing but sometimes I get nutso and go out of control and don't realize I'm upsetting my friends. And a lot of people - apparently most people - have wind personalities, which means they're usually calm and relaxed but can be too quick to act and sometimes don't think things through. But you - " She points a finger at him. " - have a water personality, to a freakin' T. You always plan before you act, and you value order and a routine over everything else. But sometimes you can get totally caught up in your own thoughts, and you get really overwhelmed by them."
He sighs. "These statements are so vague that they could apply to anyone."
"I know that. And there's a lot more that goes into it, too, if you dig into the birth months, but it's all sorta hokey-pokey nonsense." She laughs. "The point is, Amarcians who are looking for a mate are supposed to ask people their eleth types. Two of the same element usually works pretty well, and wind with fire or water can be a little volatile but doesn't cause long-lasting problems. But fire and water..." She smiles. "... is like an opposites attract type thing. Most times it doesn't work out, 'cause the personalities are waaay too different. But if you get two people together who want to make it work, their personalities will perfectly balance each other out, and they're supposed to be able to live together in harmony for decades. The problem is just getting over the initial craziness."
"I see."
"Soooo, if you kept me around more - "
"Wait," he interrupts her, and it's as if his brain has only just now absorbed what she has been rambling on about, "what, exactly, are you trying to say?"
"Hmm, I dunno. I was just making an observation." She relaxes her body, stretching her legs out in front of her, and lifts her arms to stretch them high above her head. "The other day, Fourier was talking about how I'm not getting any younger and I should be thinking about finding a husband or something. That's, like, the last thing on my mind right now. I'm not happy being holed up in my room alone all the time, but I don't think it's any better for me to waltz around the enclave looking for somebody who will make good looking babies with me. Ugh." She rolls her eyes. "But that's when I was thinking about personality types, and honestly, if I was going to marry anybody - if I was forced, I mean..." She pauses, and Hubert's breath catches in his throat when he realizes he knows what she's going to say, what she's been trying to tell him for the last few minutes, in a way that is so perfectly and completely Pascal. "... nah," she murmurs, glancing away, "I'm not gonna say it. You'll just get mad - "
"You would want to marry me?" he asks, and his voice cracks on the last word and he winces. He is twenty now, not some prepubescent boy, and yet he cannot break himself of doing such a ridiculous thing when he is nervous. "Pascal, I - for you to say such a thing - I am not mad, I - er - "
"It's stupid, I know." She laughs nervously. "And it would never work. Arranged marriages are dumb, especially because there usually aren't any feelings involved. But if I had to pick somebody, it'd be you."
"Why?" he manages, even though he's having trouble breathing.
She avoids his gaze, staring down at the sand, and he's beginning to wonder if asking for more detail was a bad idea when she speaks, softly, her hands twining together in her lap. "Because, Hu," she begins, "you're the only person I know who really cares about me. You act like you hate me, sometimes, and I know I cause trouble for you, but when I'm with you... I never feel lonely, and I know you're going to do everything you possibly can to keep me safe and make me happy. I'd never be able to get that out of some kind of forced marriage."
"I don't hate you."
"I know, but - "
"I don't," he repeats, and raises his voice this time, "hate you. And if you were to be forced into a marriage against your will, I would certainly do my part to break it up, because - " He sees her eyes widen but forces himself through the rest of the sentence, trying his hardest to be careful with his words. " - because I know you would do the same for me. If my hand were to be forced against my will, you would certainly not be content with that, would you? I can see it now, you bursting into the chapel and shouting nonsense at my bride-to-be."
She giggles quietly. "You got it. I'd probably go the extra mile and dress up like some weird kinda superhero, and come in riding a horse, and then I would kidnap you."
He enjoys this mental image perhaps a bit more than he should. "I would pretend to resist, of course."
"Yeah, yeah, but I'd throw you over the saddle and scream at everybody to never look for you again, and then we'd ride off into the sunset and change our identities completely, and start over in some little town in the country or something." She giggles again, lifting her head to smile at him, and the absurdity of the story is enough to make him smile in return. "Actually, that's a perfect plan. Let's agree to it, okay? So if either one of us gets forced into some kind of silly arranged marriage, the other will show up on horseback in full costume - "
"Pascal," he interrupts, holding back laughter, because this whole thing really is absurd, "I can't agree to such a thing."
"Then I guess we'll just have to marry each other so it never happens!"
"You really are one of a kind," he murmurs, shaking his head, and she gives him a smile so bright and breathtaking that his heart skips at least two beats. Their conversation stops there, just for a moment, and it's long enough for him to yawn and remember again that he is tired enough to sleep. But he hears her moving beside him, and when he glances to his side he sees her scooting closer in the sand, so close that they're nearly touching. "A - aren't you tired?" he asks.
She shrugs. "A little. But I like this too much to go to sleep."
"Like - what?"
"Talking to you. You're starting to loosen up." She leans over, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and it's a struggle for him not to jump ten feet into the air, considering how surprised he still is by the sudden sensation of her skin against his own. "Who knows," she starts, and her voice is soft and unusually sweet, "stranger things have happened. One day we really might just end up together. Honestly... in another life we'd probably be married by now, and have a kid or two... y'know?"
He flushes and sputters and tries not to fall backwards into the sand, because the mere implication that he would really marry her, much less have children with her - well, it isn't unpleasant, but is this something, he wonders, that she actually wants? "P - Pascal," he starts, stuttering, "w - why would you say s - such a thing - ?"
"We'd be good together. I really think so." She yawns. "And right now, I kinda like being this close to you, pretending like we're some sort of couple, but..." She laughs softly. "You're tired of me saying stuff like this, aren't you?"
He opens his mouth, then closes it, because he isn't at all sure what to say. He turns his head, carefully, looking down at her, and the faraway look in her eyes strikes at his heart in a way he doesn't quite recognize. He doesn't know what she is thinking or feeling, or what he is even thinking or feeling. Somehow he thinks that there really may be more to this than he knows - that maybe the little pecks on the cheek that she has given him, or the warm hugs and touches of her hands to his, have actually meant something, all along, and that he has been too stupid to see it. But he can't be sure, because it's Pascal, someone who is this way with everyone she considers a friend. He wants so desperately to believe that what she feels for him is different, is special, but he can't. He's just too scared - he simply can't.
"Pascal," he starts again, quietly, and begins to move his shoulder out from beneath her cheek, "I am not tired of you saying those things, but we cannot simply decide to - "
"Can you just..." He almost doesn't recognize her voice, when she interrupts him, and the sound of it strikes at his heart again, this time painfully. "... maybe, for a little while, just... let me sit here, like this?"
"What?" he breathes, stunned. "Why - ?"
"I dunno. I just... kinda... want this, right now." She sounds hurt, as if she's actually going to cry, and Hubert isn't going to dare move now. No matter what she does or doesn't feel, he can't hear her be sad, can't possibly see tears in those gorgeous eyes of hers. No, no, no, absolutely not. "I'm thinking too hard about stuff," she murmurs, "and it's making me a little... hmm, wobbly, I guess. I don't really feel like myself right now, so... just... lend me your shoulder for a bit, okay?"
Hubert presses his lips tight together, thinking, and then he hears her sigh and there's no way he can say anything but yes. She is his biggest weakness and he can't deny her anything, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for him. "If that is what you want," he responds, and lifts one unsteady hand to gently stroke her hair, "I'll... I'll stay right here."
"For as long as I want?"
"For as long as you want," he agrees, and when she tucks her head into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder he can't help but shiver with a nervous kind of delight; despite the gravity of the situation and the very real possibility that she is upset, he craves this feeling, this contact, the way her arm is brushing his and her hair is tickling his cheek. "Forever, if that is your wish," he murmurs, maybe a little too distracted by the situation to think about his words. "I will be by your side as long as you need me."
"Would you really say yes to that, Hu?" Her fingers brush against his palm, and then she's turning his other hand over in hers, playing with his fingers, and when she speaks again Hubert starts holding his breath. "If I asked you to stay with me forever... would you really be willing to do something like that? You keep saying you're going to protect me, and stay with me, and I believe you, I do, but... how long is that going to last?"
He hesitates, reminding himself to breathe, and when he finally speaks his words are so soft he doesn't think she'll be able to hear. "I - I am a man of my word, Pascal. If you need me - "
"If I said I needed you to be with me forever, right here, if I wanted you to live with me on this island and - and - " Her grip on his hand tightens. "If I said I wanted that, Hu, would you? Would you really give it all up for me?"
He knows the answer to that question, of course. He's known it for months, for years. There isn't a thing on Ephinea that he wouldn't sacrifice for Pascal's sake. And as scared as he is - he is scared to death, right now - he's heard something familiar in her voice, something new, something different. If she were to turn to him and ask him to be hers, to promise her forever, he would. Of course he would. And if it meant living out the rest of his life on an island in the middle of the sea, he would even agree to that. As long as it meant that he could keep loving her, falling in love with her over and over again like he is right now, he would do it unquestioningly.
His lips tremble and his hands start to shake but he answers her because he has to, because he can't lie to her anymore, because he's past the point of being able to pretend. "Everything," he says, "and anything."
There's silence between them, and Pascal's fingers are still on Hubert's palm, and for what feels like forever all he can hear is the crackling of the fire before them and the soft roar of ocean waves nearby. He swallows, trying to breathe normally so he can still the beating of his racing heart, and he's just starting to wonder if he's done something stupid when the Amarcian lifts her head, looks up at him, and smiles. "Thanks," she murmurs, and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're the best."
He's not sure what to say in response to that, so he doesn't say anything at all. But it doesn't seem to matter, because she isn't expecting anything: she places her head on his shoulder again, and he softly strokes her hair with his fingers, and they sit together for a long time like this. It's frightening but it's so wonderful that he eventually forgets to be scared, and when Pascal dozes off beside him, it's only then that Hubert is brave enough to say the words aloud that he's been thinking all day, all week, perhaps for all his life.
I love you, Pascal.