Nancy
Elira's Champion may have been known as witty and cunning in using her arts, in and out of combat, to seek justice for the people, but she wasn't exactly a great intellect. However, she had enough power and sway to gain entry into the Scholarium anyway. Many of the poor, cloistered scholars had only ever read about her or seen drawings, paintings of her. Seeing her in person was an *Entirely* Different experience, and she found it all too easy to convince them she *Needed* Access to their libraries. It wasn't entirely untrue. 

The fate of the Empire didn't depend on it, but reading was one of the few pleasures she afforded herself in her busy, hectic life. And she'd discovered that literary gems existed, out of her reach, locked behind the doors of the Scholarium. There was no gem she couldn't afford, one way or another, and she was determined to have these as well. She'd been a longtime fan and reader of the demigod Pride's works on strategy and the philosophy of being a warrior. While sometimes her emotions made her betray some of his philosophies, like showing wrath rather than mercy, might instead of humility, she still found them an important foothold for her to be able to return to and reflect on. So when she discovered from some stuffy scholar at a party that he'd written a few books of poetry, she felt a wild drive to find them, and that had led her here.

It would be accurate to say she raced to the section of the library where she was told they were located. She carried a small pack with her, and after grabbing the two books greedily, found a table by a window to sit and begin reading and copying. The library never let any of its books leave its doors, so if she wanted to reread these, she'd have to copy them all herself. She produced a large blank notebook, inkwell, and pen, getting to work quickly. She had nowhere particular to be but still didn't want to take too long; she wasn't good at taking things slowly or being still. 

The Desert Rose made quite the picture as she worked, wearing a blend of Rhakotian and Imperial fashion, a wrapped style robe of white with accessories of gold, only broken up by bright blue lapis lazuli on her various jewelry. The sunlight in her long, wild hair showed reddish undertones to the black, glinting off the gold chains draped there. As was her tendency, she was so absorbed in what was in front of her that she didn't much notice what was going on around her. For a moment, her pen slowed, until it stopped. The inherent emotions in Pride's poems quite struck her; as someone who tended to push them down, this was a far more pleasant way to interact with them. As she resumed writing, she could already tell this was something she would pick up again and again.
Flora
It isn't everyday when the demigod of war goes book hunting. So he'd like it to be thought anyway. In truth Pride is somewhat of a scholar in his own right, having tore through enough books during his downtime on war front or between stations to make any high brow scholar feel meek. That old urge, the desire to learn something new, tore at the demigods very bones until he made it up in his mind to explore the vast libraries of the Academia founded and ran by his old friend Merlin.

It didn't take long for the demigod to make his way to the academia, arriving by flight of his own, he'd let Ikabad have the day off. Once there the sword of Scipio made his way further within the library, perhaps he'd see if his old books and poems were still in stock.

"***Hmph...***" The demigod tapped a finger on his chin when he saw two books missing from his own collection. Looking around with keen eyes he was able to see small signs of movement, barely noticeable, but they were there. Moving through the winding walls of books Pride eventually found himself looking at a woman sitting by the window, garbed in fine jewelry and clothing, a woman of grace and elegance. Was she the one who took the books? With a practiced and perfected skill the demigod approached silently until his keen eyes could make out the pages- and his own poems.

"***Normally my poems are left alone while my writings on warfare and history are coveted. Nice to see someone has taken a liking to my more favored writing.***" The demigod of war spoke, breaking the silence abruptly.

Standing a few feet behind Amunet was a man of considerable height and physicality. White hair that sits like a lions mane, a powerful jaw and perfect skin, eyes like two golden saucers and the body of a warrior beyond compare.
Nancy
It wasn't often that others could sneak up on Amunet, so the voice from behind startled her, and she whipped around with a little irritation until his words sunk in. Her expression shifted first to awe then a broad smile of happy surprise. A soft giggle escaped her before speaking, **"I can't believe this! What are the chances?"** Standing and giving a slight curtsy, the perfect picture of grace, she continued, **"Don't get me wrong, I deeply cherish all your work. Especially your more philosophical musings on being a warrior. They're almost like a guidepost for me, I find them incredibly helpful."** With a soft laugh of disbelief, she introduced herself, **"I'm Baroness Amunet Hassan, proud Champion of Elira. What an incredible pleasure to meet you!"**

She sat back down, gesturing for the demigod to take the chair on the other side of the table, if he wished. Her voice was soft and melodic, her excitement suppressed and hidden with practiced ease. She found it generally easiest to present the most subdued version of herself; she hopes that wouldn't be necessary with Pride, but it would do till she got a feel for him. **"I'm not surprised it's your favored writing though."** Her fingers lightly traced the lines on the page, as if caressing, and her face was unreadable a moment before the smile graced her lips again, **"I can see you really pour your heart and soul into your poems. They're quite..."** She searched a moment for the word, **"Touching, very beautiful. I must admit I'm excited to dig into them."**

Regarding him with a quirked, curious brow, she wondered aloud, **"If I may, though, what brings you here? I don't exactly picture our demigod of war lounging around at the library. You're quite a scholar, I know, but..."** She wanted to put it delicately, "It doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy."** Her smile now was somewhat playful. What a treat! She'd long admired Pride and his work, and owned a copy of every book of his that could be bought. It was part of what irked her about the poetry books being so rare; she wanted a complete collection. A distant part of her mind was turning over how Pride was different from the other demigod she knew, but she wasn't about to let those feelings creep up and ruin this moment.
Flora
The demigod smiled and gave a warriors salute, a closed fist tapping against his chest armor. "***I am glad my works have been so helpful for you. It pleases me to learn that my works are still appreciated also, I'd figured they've have fallen to the wayside of literature.***" With a ever growing smile the demigod followed the introduction.

"***Pleased to meet you as-well, Champion Amunet. I am Pride, Son of Titanos. But, I take it that was easy to tell.***"

With a small nod of his head in thanks the sword of Scipio took a seat across from Amunet. While she remained selective in what she showed the demigod of herself- Pride had no such ability. With a wide smile the warrior was very pleased to converse about his writings.

"***My poems have always held a special place. To me it felt like the way a warrior could express himself correctly, through learned and mastered literary control. Any skilled warrior or seasoned leader must have decent writing capabilities to document supplies and reports- but, to be able to divulge your wisdom and heart in a way others can enjoy is a fine thing to do.***"

The demigod chuckled a little at Amunet' last remark. Indeed it would seem out of place for a demigod of war to venture to a library and read of his own volition. Apparently he's not fully changed everyone's mind about demigods of war yet. Maybe now that someone has read his poems they'll all slowly begin to realize it.

** **
With a slight chuckle the demigod replied. "***Indeed, it can seem strange to most when they learn I enjoy reading as well as writing.***" The demigod gestured to the books all around them with an open hand. "***I have read them all, most of them, anyway. To expand my mind as both warrior and leader. I am the child of war and thus I am mighty in battle- that much is true, but to expand the mind as well as the body is the true path of a warrior. So, here I am, no sword to draw but pages to turn. What of you? Reading for the enjoyment or searching for something?***"

The demigod smiled at his new found friend, enjoying the peaceful conversation and understanding that some people truly do enjoy his works. Perhaps he could copy down some of his unreleased work for her alone.
Nancy
With a disbelieving laugh, Amunet reassured the demigod as he sat across from her, **"How could the writing of our foremost expert on warfare fall to the wayside? I'm no career soldier, but I daresay our fighting forces would be quite lost without your guidance."** She spoke with conviction, nigh on brokering no argument, though she was careful to remain respectful. She nodded along to his thoughts on poetry writing. She quite agreed, it was such an elegant form of self-expression, and she even found herself somewhat envious of his ability to capture his feelings so beautifully in words. 

**"Fine, indeed. To commit your innermost self to paper in such a way, I find most brave. I can't say I could do the same."** She looked out the window thoughtfully for a moment, **"Though it would serve me much better, I think, if I could."** Her scarred right hand went to her chest, unconsciously, almost as if to keep her heart in place. **"I've spent too long carefully presenting myself to the world, only what I want seen, nothing more."** When her light blue eyes met his golden gaze, her eyes spoke softly of the tangle of emotions hidden under the cool, composed exterior.

Shaking her head and smiling, she somewhat corrected her previous statement, **"It's not that I don't see you as a reader, you're clearly incredibly intelligent. Maybe I just wanted to see a bit of myself in you, struggling to slow down and be still for too long. It's far easier to picture you cracking a book in a tent on the edge of a battlefield than in a peaceful place like this."** She twirled the pen in her hand, her right still pressed to her chest but beginning to fiddle with a necklace. Pride's musings then subsequent question made her realize part of why she had felt so desperate to find his poetry. 

Deciding that someone she considered a personal hero was probably safe to open up to, at least a little, she dropped her schooled expression and let her worry and sadness color her features, looking away as she spoke. **"Well, both, kind of. Reading is one of the few things I** ***Can*** **Slow down for. And I find myself uncertain of what I need... Or want... To do next."** Sitting the pen down, she began twirling a strand of hair around her fingers, **"So much has changed in my life recently. And I've been,"** She heaved a heavy sigh, **"Reluctant to sort through the feelings. I think finding out you wrote poetry felt like a beacon in the darkness. Your words were such good guides before, I think I hoped they could be again."** She laughed weakly, **"I find myself surrounded by people, but none of them helpful. In matters like this, I am alone."** She was embarrassed to feel the tears welling up, **"By my own choice though, by my own mistakes..."** She met his eyes then, before another nervous laugh, wiping her eyes, **"My apologies, I didn't mean to burden you with my troubles. I'm sure you have much bigger things to tend to."** She picked her pen back up and continued copying, willing her masked expression to return; but now that she'd cracked the shell and let herself be vulnerable, she was finding it difficult to put it back together again.
Flora
A genuine laugh escaped the demigod thanks to Amunet' kindness, it was comforting to hear that someone found his writings to still hold some weight and relevance within the modern day. "***You're much too kind, thank you my friend.***" He could tell how much conviction filled her voice so he did not dare argue, instead he just took the compliment and let the champion speak her mind.

"***It's a skill that takes practice; however, once you've done it enough times it flows like having a one sided conversation.***" Pride remarked as he shifted in his seat in order to pull a roll of parchment from his beltline. "***I know the feeling all too well Amunet. Putting on the best show we can for those around us is a... A hard thing to do.***" When their gaze met eachothers Pride's own golden eyes spoke of a powerful slew of emotions just beneath the surface of his warm and kind exterior.

** **
"***You'd be surprised how alike we are in that regard.***" The demigod of war unrolled the parchment and slid it to Amunet with a smile. On the parchment is, in fairly terrible handwriting, a date- ***0 AoM 554***- and what looks like various scribbles and half baked poems. "***I have been writing and reading since the time where demigods strode these lands in our dozens. I have had a very long time to learn how to slow down and be still when necessary.***"

The demigod found himself growing a little concerned, worried even, for Amunet when he saw her sadness and worry began to take hold of her aura as she looked away. It always hurt him in some small way when he saw good people, the good and kind people of these lands, hurting in such ways. Even as the champions eyes began to well with tears Pride did not falter in his gaze of concern and care. He could tell that she had exposed a part of herself and was fighting to both contain it and also put it back together- he knows that struggle all too well.

The demigod was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the scratch of Amunet's pen and the slight rustle of parchment. It's not often that Pride finds himself searching for words, usually he's able to belt out various engrained wisdoms within his mind but this is... Different, and he wants to come at this not from a place of duty but from a place of care.

** **
"***Do you know what my purpose is, Amunet?***" Pride asked as he raised his right hand, turning his palm to the ceiling above. "***To destroy?***" A spark of golden flames began to generate above the palm of the demigods hand; slowly morphing and shifting until a miniature sun slowly spun suspended in the air- warm, and providing a gentle orange light. "***To wage war?***" The mini sun vanished as quickly as it arrived and was replaced with an ornate steel dagger with a wonderful mix of jade and opal stones along its blade. "***I once asked myself this question everyday for nearly two hundred years...***"

With a flick of his wrist the knife vanished with a small flash of white light.

"*Who* ***Am I? What do*** *I* ***Want?***" Sitting up straight Pride gestured with a jab of his thumb towards the window beside them. "***I learned that what lies out there, the realms, and all those that live within them- you included-***" He pointed at Amunet with a small smile. "***- so, never apologize for speaking to me about how you feel. It is my job to be here to help, by divine right I am meant to serve.***"

** **
The demigod smiled as he sat back in his chair, almost content with what he said before his eyes widened. "***I know what'll help you-***" Pride held out his right hand and with a flash of white light another scroll of parchment landed in his palm. Handing it out to Amunet the demigod grinned. "***You'll appreciate this more than anyone I think.***"

Within the parchment is a poem dated, *0 AoM 557*, that looks like it was written after a battle- blood speckled a corner of the parchment and some dirt and ash mingled together on one slightly burnt corner.

"*In the quiet aftermath of war's fierce tide,

A warrior stands, unsure where to abide,

No battles left to fight, no foes in sight,

His purpose wavers in the fading light,

Yet in the hearts of those he holds most dear,

A new cause beckons, drawing him near

To safeguard kin and friends, his sacred vow,

He'll wield his strength to protect them now

Though swords may rest, his spirit shall remain,

Guardian of peace, in sunshine or rain

For in defending loved ones, he finds his call,

A warrior's duty, standing tall*"
Nancy
Amunet found she was somewhat surprised to see so much emotion mirrored back to her in the demigod's eyes. It shouldn't have surprised her; how could he write such poems without a deep emotional well to pull from? But all the same, she realized perhaps she had put him on a bit of a pedestal before, as if he were fully a god, and thus either didn't have to deal with emotions or have so few problems as to cause any severe ones. Yet she knew that wasn't true. Her two meetings with Elira and, of course, Kairos told her otherwise. She just couldn't help hoping there were some beings out there that weren't plagued by emotions; they seemed so troublesome so often.

Sitting and watching him speak rather placidly but with obvious interest, she wanted to soak it all up like a sponge. Though the pain lingered on the edges, she was feeling quite encouraged by the demigod. Her eyes lit up, any pretense dropped, as he slid the first piece of parchment over. She hesitated, briefly, in reaching for it, as if it were some great relic she might break. She took hold of it gently, eyes scanning the bits and pieces of things he'd tried to put together before. It did somewhat inspire her and make her hopeful that perhaps this would be a useful pursuit for her as well. It wasn't one she was exactly excited to undertake, but she knew she needed some kind of outlet for all these feelings, lest they consume her or come out in the *Wrong* Way, again.

This was especially driven home to her after revealing even just a little emotion to Pride. More than she intended to release burst forth, and now the tide was pushing so harshly against her hastily erected defenses. She was trying to focus on just copying, breathing, anything to calm herself. Showing Pride a bit of herself was one thing, but she didn't intend to lose it entirely; that would embarrass her beyond belief. Only her family and Kairos had ever seen her in such a state. And though she had experimented lately with making a friend and enjoyed it, she wasn't prepared for this level of intimacy yet.

Pride's question brought her out of herself with a small jerk of surprise. She slowly raised her gaze to meet his again, struggling to keep her features smooth, the tears still glassy in her eyes despite her best efforts. Not trusting her voice to answer him, she only shook her head in the negative. A bit of awe overtook her face watching his magic, a nice reprieve from the flood. But upon taking hold of the second piece of parchment, her eyes widened as they scanned, and she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over. Dropping the parchment she covered her face with both hands, doing her damnedest to cry silently and hating every small whimper or gasp of breath that escaped her.

These moments always felt like such a betrayal, her feelings commandeering her body, and she could do nothing to stop it. But the betrayal–no, she knew it now for what it was, the loss of control–didn't stop there, as she lowered her hands, sniffling, meeting Pride's gaze and words tumbling out of her, **"I ruined** ***Everything*** **. What is** ***Wrong*** **With me?! I let my feelings so consume me these last four years that I haven't been there like I should have for my son, and now he isn't the same. I could've been there for my mother more after my father died, but no, I had to stay** ***Busy*** **And stay away. Just to try to avoid** ***This*** **. I basically told the only man who's ever really loved me to get lost, and he was** ***So*** **Good with Sassan..."** Her face crumpled, and her next words were muffled by her hiding behind her hands again, **"He was right, and I just spat in his face and left... Oh Elira, no..."**
Curtis
Ah hell, my b. *Never* Realized I forgot. There was some fire to put out right after I posted this, oops.
Flora
The son of Titanos held a warm and kind smile as he watched the champion before him, he could see the glass within her eyes near to breaking- he'd seen it happen to many folk before her and he knows he would after. As such he didn't draw attention to it, he just waited calmly, waiting for the opportunity to console and encourage as and if needed.

As she began to read his works and then shed tears the demigod of war just smiled and waited, calm and serene, not wanting to disrupt the thoughts and emotions of his new found friend. Even when Amunet looked up at him with teary eyes and began to divulge her feelings Pride did nothing but smile and listen. Once the champion was done then the demigod acted, leaning forwards and reaching out a hand he laid it on his friends shoulder and gave her a gentle pat- not making it known that he began to use his aura of inspiration to begin to help Amunet rally her feelings together.

"***We*** *All* ***Make mistakes Amunet. We all have regrets, past actions we wish we could change or rectify, the sad truth of it is that we cannot change our past...***" With a small smile the demigod blinked his eyes, a singular tear, like golden nectar, rolled down his right cheek. "***But we*** *Can* ***Change our futures. We can work to become better, to improve on who we were last year, last night or five minutes ago. Improvement is never out of reach, never. The first step it to acknowledge where you have misstepped and wish to change, you've already begun that journey. Now I'll show you the way forwards; however, it's up to you to take the first step.***" 

Standing up and holding out his right hand to Amunet the child of war nodded his head to his side, indicating he wanted her to come with him.

"***I'd like to show you something, humor me, aye?***"
Nancy
Feeling the hand on her shoulder, Amunet lowered her hands, a raw and vulnerable expression on her face. His words were certainly soothing, though she still felt a bit overwhelmed and lost. How on earth could she pick up what she'd broken into a million pieces? And even if she could, would it be forgiven? Could she forgive herself? The dread of 'what's done is done' was somewhat mitigated by the demigod's show of emotion; he clearly had significant regrets too. And it made her feel less alone. She couldn't expect to do better than the divine. 

Improvement and growth had been the by words of her youth; perhaps she had forgotten that. It was never too late to grow, and she began to realize she had assumed herself done with that long before it was actually true... If it would ever be true. Nodding at his words after drinking them all in, she wiped her eyes and spoke softly, **"I certainly want to change the future. I can't keep going on like this. I'm no good to anybody if I'm broken."** With a slight chuckle, she added, **"I'm not good at admitting my faults. Trying to be and acting like I was perfect has gotten me so far..."** Her eyes turned distant a moment before a small smile returned, **"But that's probably part of how I got in this mess. I** ***Do*** **Want to be better."**

Amunet rose with the demigod, the sorrow fading and being replaced by the usual playfulness of a good mood, **"Of course I'll humor you."** She took his hand gently. **"I'm running out of things to lose."**
Flora
"***I know how you feel, more so than you might thin-...Well, you can probably assume a lot, my name*** *Is* ***Pride after all. My entire life I've portrayed myself as perfect and even at times believed myself to be. It wasn't until it all came crashing down did I then realize how wrong I was to lie to myself to everyone around me.***" He spoke from a place deep within his heart, a part of him he'd dealt with since the very day he was born and each day he lived throughout his thrice millennia long life. Pride, vanity, hubris and ego- factors he once thought of as his birthright.

When the champion said she wanted to be better the demigod of war nodded his head, understanding and approving of what she said, and even if nothing was said in reply- it felt like the world became a little bit brighter and a tad bit warmer.

"***Hm.***" A small hum both understanding and approving, the demigod led the champion through a vast array of corridors within the Magos Academia. They walked for a few minutes, passing by various students of the school- all of whom gawked at the pair of divine beauty and strength- and even a small gnome cloaked in red robes whose mischievous and knowing eyes glittered like stars.

"***Here we are.***" A door was before them, simple and made of dark oak, and with a push it opened the pair entered. "***The hall of remembrance, both the memory and history of the... The...***"

The child of titanos grew silent for a moment, his eyes that burned with sunlight dimming and the glimmer of his aura becoming duller. This place must mean a great deal to Pride, either that or a painful memory.

** **
"***The Silver Lion Knights. My once most trusted men and brothers in arms.***"

Before them laid a grand hall, rows and rows of armor stands all holding esoteric suits of armor that seemed crafted by the Gods themselves. Each suit was unique, an artifact of an ancient time and an ancient warrior. Behind the thousands of suits of armor were massive shelves of books, tapestries, scrolls and other writings or works of art that detail the fable history of the order. If Amunet knows her history, or is as enraptured by Prides writings as she claims, she would recognize the name of the order of knights. During the ancient days of the demigods these knights served under Pride himself, his vanguard, and the most famed knights of that age.

"***I knew them all by name... I knew everything about them.***" Pride spoke once again, his voice somber yet the faint ghost of a smile crossed his face. "***I knew all of their families, I spoke with them all as if they were my own kin. I trained them, guided them and cultivated them into the finest soldiers ever to be seen. They were my brothers and sisters in arms... And now they are lost to time and history.***"

The warrior of old sighed a slow breath. "***And do you know what I think most of when I look across this room?***" The demigod of war turned to Amunet, golden tears now leaving lines of shame down his face. "***How much I wish they could be here with me now.***"

His gaze turned away, looking back towards the suits of ornate history, and his tears flowed freely for the first time in nearly three millennia.

"***I do not wish for you to experience my pain, this pain.***"
Nancy
Amunet couldn't help a little deja vu, of sorts, listening to Pride speak. It reminded her so much of the early days with Kairos, them talking about the weight and responsibility of being representatives of the gods. How the people had to be able to look up to you, but simultaneously couldn't get too close. The struggle of maintaining the delicate balance of being approachable enough but maintaining that heroic distance people wanted in their saviors. Being seen as without fault, when they both knew that they had plenty. While it didn't make the ache in her heart subside, she did like knowing there was one more person in the world who understood these unique struggles so well. Looking at Pride's kind, caring face, she felt a companionship she had been missing for so long; one that she was now realizing she *Needed*, when she had just thought it was a luxury, not required.

The Champion followed the demigod through the Academy's storied halls. She looked around with open curiosity, all too practiced at ignoring being gawked at. Though she did notice the gnome, giving him a warm smile as they passed. Upon pushing open the doors, she began to attempt to make sense of what was before her when she was distracted by Pride's hesitation. She turned to look at him, her caring concern plainly visible on her face. It was well past the point that she felt she needed to hide anything from him; there would be no more masks today. It was a little scary, but more so freeing. It'd been too many years since she was able to just... Be, let herself feel and show it without filter or restraint. She placed a hand lightly on his upper back, a touch of encouragement in what seemed to be a difficult moment for him.
** **

The Desert Flower's light blue eyes widened, with both the dimming of his aura and the knowledge of where they were. A soft **"Wow..."** Was all that escaped her as it was now her turn to gawk, with new meaning, at the relics before her. Listening to Pride further explain, the Champion stayed silent, feeling the intense gravity of the moment, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. Her heart went out to him, she couldn't imagine losing so many people that meant so much. And likely, especially when your life spanned millenia, in what felt like a short span of time. She wanted to protest that the Order wasn't forgotten, it was well-celebrated in their histories... But she knew that wasn't what he meant. It was their names, their likes and dislikes, the minutiae of their daily lives; *Who* They were, not *What* They were, which now only lived in Pride's memory, and nowhere else.

When their gazes met, Pride would've seen streams of tears down Amunet's face as well. Tears of both empathy for him and her own melancholy musings. She found herself reaching for his arm, both to reassure him and to find some way to ground herself in this moment against the tide of feelings. It wasn't as violent as before, in the library, but was certainly still just as strong. Part of her wondered, if things could be fixed with Kairos, would he feel like this one day? She knew she would be longer lived than the average human; her slowed aging spoke of that much. But she was still just as mortal as any other. Would he weep so, too, when she was gone and no more than a memory? She spoke in a small voice, not befitting a Champion, a hero, a noble of her station, but she found that she couldn't be brought to care. **"I think, maybe, you've saved me from going too far down this path. I think... I had begun to, but this is a stark wake-up call."** Releasing his arm, she slowly walked over to the nearest suit of armor, regarding it a moment before turning to face him again. 
** **

Swallowing thickly, she continued, **"It all lies with Kairos."** She smiled a weak smile, shaking her head, before resuming with a half-hearted laugh of disbelief, **"I had thought if I was meant to repair things with him, Elira would make it so. But maybe I'm putting too much impetus for action in Her hands, when I need to be taking action myself, as She has empowered me to do."** A sigh and a resolute nod saw her tears slow, and she wiped her eyes. **"My son's unhappiness is rather all wrapped up in** ***His*** **Loss of Kairos... They were nearly like father and son. Sassan blames me for taking that away, something he never had and always wanted. If I find Kairos, if..."** She hesitated, the resolve in her voice wavering, **"If he'll forgive me, I think it might fix everything. I've too long relied on myself."** She took steps closer to Pride again, taking one of his hands firmly in her own, a grasp of gratitude. **"Thank you for showing me that. I probably wouldn't have taken it so well coming from anyone else."**
Flora
The demigod of war, son of Titanos and former Imperator of Scipio could not bring himself to speak further for the moment. He forced himself to stay silent, to hold back the tidal wave of emotion that nearly broke over the vast walls and damns he had built within his heart- the things that kept him sane, kept his grief and loss from overcoming him. He could only stand there in silence even as Amunet reached for his arm to confide in him, he could not bare to speak yet. There was something within his eyes that betrayed him however, a deep and vast ocean of memories and emotions that were held within the dimmed gold of his eyes. Eyes that had seen nearly four millennia pass by, eyes that had seen millions of faces, eyes that had wept thousands of times in silence and solace- the eyes of one fitting of the demigod born of sorrow.

"*Tha*- **Ahem.**" His voice broke when he tried to reply, clearing his throat with a hand placed over his mouth Pride did his best to smile, even if it was a shallow thing. "***That is good, I am glad to hear I was able to help you.***"

The demigod listened to the sorrows and regrets of his newfound ally, finding himself understanding the pain that regret for inaction can bring- he'd suffered from that for so long himself, Alekhya and Noctis always lingered within his mind. The regret he suffered when he thought of them, how he'd wished he could have done something- how he *Should* Have.

** **
"***Kairos is a wise man.***" His voice suddenly carried with it the pride he usually spoke with, even if it was layered with the sadness of his words. "***Wiser than I am, much wiser. He will listen to you, I know he will. The loss of a father, even only a figure of one, can weigh heavy on the heart of a boy without one. I know your sons pain all too well and I know the suffering it can bring if it goes unanswered... But, I have*** *Faith.*" 

The demigod of war strode towards Amunet as a flash of white light appeared in his hand, the hilt of an ornate sword now firmly within his grasp. Once close to the champion he held the blade up, turned it on its side, and offered her its hilt.

"***Faith in the hearts and minds of those who I know to be good. You and Kairos, to name a few, are those I have found faith within. People who can bring about an era of change, of goodness and of peace, an era where my craft of war will become obsolete and useless for that is my greatest desire.***" Pride gave a smile, warm and radiant, as he extended his arm a little more.

** **
"***Take this blade with you on your journey, seek out Kairos and reforge your bonds, only then may you return this weapon to me. Until that day-***" White magic, holy and binding, began to envelop the blade and swirl from the forearm of the demigod."***- this blade will act as a beacon and an ally that shall not leave you. You need only raise its tip to the sky and call out my name with conviction in your heart... A fraction of my power will be granted to you in that moment and you will become protected by my own will.***" 

There was no room for argument within the tone of Pride, not an angry or forceful tone, but one of true kindness and commitment to someone he calls a friend. Even as Amunet took his hand and spoke to him again the demigods smile did not waver, finally finding reason to once again feel pride in someone else. 

"***It is my duty, a duty to protect and cherish the people of this realm and do what I can to aid them. I'd be a sorry protector and friend if I didn't try my best.***"