What does a man who has been so caught up in the plights of the world do when there is no longer a world that needs his intervention? It's a question that Nier asks himself each day that he rises, faces himself in the looking glass as he trims and grooms the scraggly facial hair that dots along strong jaw line. In a simple room over is his daughter, an existence he didn't realise he could come back with. In the face of hopelessness, somehow...
They've managed to come out of it unscathed. How? He's asked himself that plenty of times as well. Is this the real world, or is simply a dream created from everything he's ever wanted? It's unrealistic in the world that everyone can be saved. It's unrealistic that he can partake in the world with those he considers closest. Yet that seems to be the way of it, doesn't it? His brow furrows, a hand tracing along his jaw in thought.
His work never ends. He still runs errands. Still travels. Still misadventures for the sake of those of the village, a name synonymous with 'home.' When he steps out for the day after exchanging a hug with Yonah, her words echo with him.
"Don't be out too late, Dad, otherwise dinner will get cold!"
Broadsword slung over his back, he eyes the sky, squinting into the distance. The village is a good ten minutes by foot behind him. She's never much liked visiting it and he understands why, despite the idea that she's ever infinitely welcome in his home, at his table, for she too, is family.
I'M SINGING THE WORDS TO A SONG THAT I DON'T KNOW. Post game bullshit? Everyone lives?
They've managed to come out of it unscathed. How? He's asked himself that plenty of times as well. Is this the real world, or is simply a dream created from everything he's ever wanted? It's unrealistic in the world that everyone can be saved. It's unrealistic that he can partake in the world with those he considers closest. Yet that seems to be the way of it, doesn't it? His brow furrows, a hand tracing along his jaw in thought.
His work never ends. He still runs errands. Still travels. Still misadventures for the sake of those of the village, a name synonymous with 'home.' When he steps out for the day after exchanging a hug with Yonah, her words echo with him.
"Don't be out too late, Dad, otherwise dinner will get cold!"
He wears a weakened smile. He's made plans on this day. At least, they'll be plans if he can find the one they involve. Kainé is a wild spirit. Always has been. Unrestrained. A storm with no leash at times, though one he has come to appreciate. Difficult to hold onto, but despite whatever may sometimes leave her mouth, her heart and her intentions have always been purely good. In her, he has found a confidant. A particular spark of affection that he doesn't always acknowledge the way he'd like to.
Broadsword slung over his back, he eyes the sky, squinting into the distance. The village is a good ten minutes by foot behind him. She's never much liked visiting it and he understands why, despite the idea that she's ever infinitely welcome in his home, at his table, for she too, is family.
"What's the best way to catch a Kainé?" he contemplates aloud, the grim little smirk growing. "Obscene words."
It's a joke, really. If she was a fish, he'd catch her with every swear word he knows. He hopes he won't have to resort to that, however.