Sully cares too much at this point and she isn't sure how she feels about that. Down on herself, probably. She's always been the type to put work and duty on her mind before some guy. In fact, she's very weak to have her work thoughts be about wishing that she had deserted and the rest of her thoughts center around Libra's happiness. Sure, it's not the only thing on the forefront of her mind (she's got a kid out there, after all) but it's a frustrating mess and she can't figure it out.

As she gets her minimal shit together for the march ahead, she finds it all moot. Call her a pessimist or realist, but there are some of the heaviest battles she's ever fought before her and if she fails either she dies or the world does. As it turns out, having the world on your shoulders is so much weight that it's hard to think of anything else.

The fact that she is at all seems ridiculous.

She finishes packing before anyone else, bag on her shoulder, sword in its holster, Alm still gone, a short march through an endless desert ahead. She sits in the center of camp, on a log by a quenched firepit unneeded in the sweltering daytime. She's about to ask Robin if there's any cooling balms or salves that have been invented that she's missed out on until the only person with equally as little to pack takes a seat on the same log as her and her guts turn into dreadful pudding because she damned well knows who it is.

"Hey, Leebs."

Libra acknowledges her with the world's most awkward wave.

"Don't be so weird, dude," she responds bitterly. "The world's about to end and I'd like my partner to at least acknowledge me as his partner."

Libra doesn't say anything before he sighs. It's the kind of sigh that breaks loose like an escaped animal from a trap that wanted to stay closed. He still doesn't say anything, but he scoots near to her. Neither of the two smile or allow themselves to be affectionate, but they're not in smiley affectionate moods.

"What's up?" Sully asks lamely.

Libra still says nothing, and Sully's heart sinks into the ground and probably halfway to the core of the planet. The guy is acting strange. It's not Libra-strange either, or at least what she knows. Generally his strange is the exact type of strange that, bizarrely, she could figure out. Now it's just… generic strange that eludes her. It's impersonal, and it flops a regression of progress right in her lap like so much mess hall mush.

"You okay?"

Libra nods mechanically.

"Okay."

That's where it could end, but Sully looks at that idea with her mind's eye and doesn't like that. Sure, she's probably gonna die soon, but at the same time, she's probably gonna die soon, and she doesn't wanna come back as a ghost with unfinished business from when she was a chicken-shit while alive. No, if she goes, her bags will be well and truly packed.

"Look."

Libra turns to her as he's addressed. For the first time, Sully can sense heat emanating off of him. She can't tell if it's anger, passion, agony, or sorrow, but whatever it is, Libra has never let himself feel it around her. That should be a deterrent, but Sully has never played by the rules. In fact, this is the kind of Libra that's close to the one she needs.

"If I said anything rude or hurtful," she starts, "I promise, I'm very sorry about that. And I wanna be sure to do it right next time. I just...:" She runs her hand through her hair then grasps it in a frustrated clump. She needs a damned haircut.

"You didn't know," Libra responds, quiet enough that she nearly misses it.

"That's just it, Libra." Her response is calmer than she feared it would be, thank the Gods, but the fire's still there. "I mean, I'm not the get-over-it type. I may seem like it 'cause of how brash I am, but I know what it's like to still be emotional and hurt by events that happened a long-arse time ago. So are most of us. We're soldiers. In the offchance that we live through this shit, we're all gonna have scars. So we understand. I understand, I promise."

Libra nods again. It's as wooden as before, but more forcibly so. There's a distinct stench of panic in his movements.

"If we're gonna do this," she continues, trying to stay soft despite passion welling up in her chest, "you're gonna have to be vulnerable with me. And you're gonna have to come out of your comfort zone. And… it's gonna suck, but like…" With a bitter laugh, she adds "Hell, I'm doing it. I've made a mess of both of us being emotional. I'm always the angry one. Or the crying one. I don't wanna be the only one, you hear?"

Libra nods again like a damn puppet. Sully sighs. Of course her feeble attempt at a joke didn't fly at a time like this. She tries to be guarded at times like these, but Libra's made it impossible to stay guarded for too long. And that would probably be fine because Libra's very reassuring, but Sully notes a serious power imbalance in their relationship as it starts.

"I feel like I'm giving too much," she admits, because hell, she's admitted a lot to Libra- why stop now? "I feel like I am letting go of too much and you're letting me because you think that's what you're supposed to do. Priest is supposed to listen and heal and shit. And as weird as it is, I'm trying to be okay with giving too much, but… I guess what I need is for you to let me carry things for you. To trust me as much as I trust you. I don't like the idea of hurting you by accident. Because you would rather me step on your toes than tell me I shouldn't."

Libra doesn't nod this time. In fact, he heats up more. Sully steals a glance to her left and sees a deep, confused blush on his face. It's not the most ideal way the conversation could have ended, but hell, it's something. It's a reaction.

Finally, he says "I never have."

Sully looks at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"I will try," he says with intensity and terror that he tries to hide. "But it may take time."

Sully nods as woodenly as he did. "Are… are you sure we have much time left?"

Libra closes his eyes. He doesn't have the answer either. That's fine, probably. Not really, but sure. "I… am a man of faith," he explains, but for such a simple fact, he doesn't sound very believable. "Ultimately, I have faith that what needs to happen will happen."

Sully wants to groan. It's like day one with him all over again. A ton of non-answers and a really uncomfortable need to push her away.

"Even if you have to sacrifice your way there?" Libra doesn't respond. "You're braver than I am," she adds. "I just… hope we have time, you know? And if we don't… that you won't go down with a heavy conscience."

At that time, more people start to show up, so she knows her time is up. She falls into silence, tired already, so the march will surely be pleasant. Libra turns his head towards her, and as she feels his eyes on her neck, Sully cranes to make eye contact for the first time that day. Libra looks… demoralized. Scared. Ashamed. It guts Sully so much that she turns away. Libra should not be feeling these things. Still, as much as she hates to admit it, it is better than not feeling anything at all.

The march stops for a short while, so Libra prays. Libra has not prayed enough lately- not like he was before returning to Ylisse. Then again, he has always been bad at praying to Naga about himself. It's never been his strong suit to care about himself, to allow him to believe that his thoughts matter.

Some habits are hard to change.

It's easier to claim that praying for himself is to benefit someone else. Usually, it is a request to clear his heart before returning to his duties as an ideal priest. This time, it's to make him a better partner to the woman who was kind enough to steal his heart. It's never explicitly about himself.

He prays for peace. He prays for understanding. He prays for many things that don't feel like what he needs, and that he doesn't have a damn clue about what to do with. He just knows that they're the only things he knows he should ask for right now.

As he leans up, the others are still catching their breath, bent and gasping for air like it's draining through the atmosphere. The Shepherds have been weak lately and considering the magnitude of the battles ahead, that is not a good sign. Still, Robin always said a competent, slow army is better than a ragged, rushed one. He just disagrees that now is the time to be slowly anything, given the circumstances.

Maybe that's why Sully talks to him like she's pressed for time, but thinking like that makes him anxious. He needs time. Libra can never do anything overnight. The thought of doing so drives him out of his skin. He made so much progress with Sully as it was; how it is that she expects more eludes him. Still, as much as he is embittered at the idea, perhaps he is selfish for hoarding time that he struggles to use.

If only she knew how much he had given for her already.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and jumps, eliciting a startled "Fie!" from the person who did so. He looks behind him to see the Chon'sin Princess at his back, meeting him with weary, determined eyes. Now it's Libra's turn to be startled, bowing quickly before rising to his feet.

"At ease," she orders. "In this land, I am not royalty. I am a fellow Shepherd, and you are more than free to treat me as such."

Libra wants to point out that she would probably be the princess of Chon'sin in any land but deduces that she knows better than him.

"P- Say'ri," he says with a nod that may have been a curtailed bow that he caught too late. "I trust that, given the circumstances, you are doing well?"

Say'ri thinks for a second. Quietly, she admits "Surviving, at the very least."

"That's commendable," he promises, warming his smile.

"Yourself?"

Libra thinks of everything going on. Not just the immediate; in fact, if he stays numb enough he can let go of the fear of the world ending. It would be easier to claim his sorrows to be about the recent confrontation with Sully or even its unsettling aftermath, but Libra knows. He knows that it extends further back than all of that, than a life Sully or any of the Shepherds even know, than anyone knows or would suspect has been awakened in him.

"I suppose there is a lot on my heart," he admits. It's the least and most that he can say.

With impressive composure, Say'ri nods. "Aye." Before Libra has readied his next statement, he hears the sound of feet moving against sand and gravel around him. Say'ri helpfully adds "I'd inform you that it appears we march once more."

"Thank the Gods," Libra blurts. Then, he covers his mouth. "I mean-"

A sharp laugh sounds off next to him. "Aye," she agrees. "Can't be claimed that the world is in peril or some fancy."

Libra scratches the back of his neck with a guilty chuckle. "I admit… so."

"And fine be it to admit."

The two join the rest of the crowd, and Libra notices that Say'ri has not left his side by too far. She keeps a respectful distance, to his relief, but he is surprised and a little uneasy at the fact that she is there at all. Say'ri occasionally glances at him, and when she notices him catch her, she does not turn her gaze until she is good and ready. She is forceful in the way that he can only imagine one with authority and curiosity admits.

Suddenly: "Your countenance is troubled."

"We are going through a lot," he defends sharply.

"Aye, I'd be remiss if I thought otherwise."

Libra's pace slows, and he gazes at his feet. Blast; he'd treated her as though she'd no idea when she absolutely did. "I apologize."

Say'ri turns away from him, eyes towards the sky. "'Tis no need to. I ken to possess a tendency to pry. Perhaps from an obsession to understand things, I suppose."

Libra sighs, and sighs again after a minute passes and he still feels the conversation resting on pause, the rope on his end. The army is in near lockstep, though with so many feet against the ground a few steps are out of sync, and Libra can see a few people go off the trail by just a few feet, as though on leashes. Say'ri is in lockstep with him and him alone, and gives him looks to prove it.

To sate her, he says "You needn't worry about me, Say'ri. The problems I have right now are rather small." The immediate ones, at least.

"And yet your heart still does grieve."

"I- ah…" Libra can't deny it, but if he could, he would.

Her eyes level out again. "Your nation need not be at turmoil, your kin not dead, for your heart to grieve," she claims. "Nor is it weak or selfish that it does regardless. All that matters is that it is sorrow that you experience."

"No matter how trivial?"

"Aye, no matter."

Libra continues marching, the whole time fighting against believing her words. He can't believe them. His problems have always been immaterial compared to the larger ones at hand. The past is the past, and the present is not too vexing. In fact, end of the world or not, things are probably better than they've ever been. At the same time, though… would it not be so nice to believe that? To let his heart grieve?

Clearly, his consternation is visible, as Say'ri looks at him and sighs affectionately. "Perhaps the easier question is, do you have someone who would let you grieve?"

Sully's last words fit so well that he gasps. Say'ri's gaze turns triumphant, smile screaming pay dirt. Lying is a sin- not that it stopped him before- so he admits "I do have a friend." Well, more than a friend- does Sully want their partnership known? Maybe it would be worth asking, had they time.

Judging by the way every ounce of Say'ri's grace vacates in favor of a snort, it's likely that she knows regardless. "Absolutely," she says incredulously. "A friend."

"Do you question it?"

"Out of courtesy," she responds with blunt teasing. "Else I daresay your friend may be a touch disappointed."

Libra gives a bitter laugh. "I'd hate for that to happen."

When Say'ri thinks, he notices, Say'ri thinks visibly. Right now, he's worried she'd absently run into the axe Vaike is lazily carrying in front of her blade-first, so lost is she in thought. "Mind your head," he says quietly.

Say'ri looks up to find herself inches from its blade. "Mercy!" she shouts. Vaike jolts and meets the gaze of the princess, who motions him out of the line. "Please, reposition that that before you decapitate an ally!"

Panicked, Vaike says "okay, okay! Chill!" He walks off to the side, pouting as though Say'ri was the unreasonable one.

"Fie!" Say'ri does look visibly annoyed, but the feathers that line her collar are no more ruffled than before, though she has lost her train of thought. Libra feels the spottiness of conversation in the air, like entering in and out of sound as it starts to slip away. He notices Say'ri's eyes follow the overhead path to pale green hair. As Libra follows her gaze, he notices a woman as tall as anyone else with hair as messy, patchy, and grand as grass on the ground, ponytailed together roughly with red ribbon.

"A friend can certainly help in times like these," she concludes, a little hazy.

"A friend or a friend?"

Say'ri cracks a tight lipped smirk.

"I believe turnabout is fair play, is it not?"

Respect turns her lips into a grin. "Aye." Looking again at her companion, she says "Mayhaps it is so, mayhaps it is not. A conclusion I have yet to reach myself. Still…" She smiles in a way that betrays a special sort of deference to her. "I cannot deny her ability to push me from my comfort zone." Her countenance slacks. "Though… I certainly had to allow myself to leave in the first place."

Libra ahhs to hide the genuine illumination that exposes him.

"No matter the pace… must have to light up the void someday, aye?"

Libra looks ahead at the green-haired woman that he can now discern as Tiki, and Say'ri's gaze follows. Libra steals a gaze at the princess, and she is surprisingly soft at that moment. It would make sense that, as Robin predicted, Tiki would illuminate things for him- though not what he expected, and through another altogether.

Fitting that the voice would have a voice to speak for her.

"She is not that tall," Say'ri muses playfully. "Perhaps another is carrying her once more." Indeed, Libra notices that the manakete's head is slumped downward. Next to him, Say'ri smirks. "'Tis always to find a time for rest with Tiki."

Libra laughs quietly. How one can find time to rest at a time like this baffles him… but it's better than never being at rest at all.