Moments like these let them both pretend that they both still had evils to fight and adventures to go on, though the prey seemed embarrassingly simple compared to what fare they had encountered in war-electrified days under blankets of mist and space and darkness. Moments like these allow Freya to pretend she has not yet gone back to Burmecia to rebuild, forget reconstruction and spend an afternoon without missives and King Puck and Fratley on the mind. In this moment, the mist still fills the valley bowls of the continent, and she is still in search of the man she loves, and she is a warrior and not the symbol of one that she had become instead. In this moment, Amarant Coral pretends he is a man who had not yet wandered the entire planet, who still follows a kid who somehow knew more than he did. In this moment he is not a shadow without purpose, and in this moment, if he had been, the Amarant Coral that he is pretending to be wouldnít care anyway.
It is a competition, and it had started out as such, but when the clinching monster comes across their tracks, all that is discarded without thought. They are the champions before they had become champions, a surly monk and a shining dragoon who fought alongside heroes and saved the world. Who fought alongside each other and became friends. They can pretend that time hadnít passed and evils hadnít been yet defeated, and that they had reasons that meant something and that they had just stepped out of the airship bickering like always. Ignore the fact that they hadnít seen each other in a year. That she is chained to Burmecia and he is a chipped stone, rolling with tiring momentum.
They are a team again, and for a moment they can pretend that they had never stopped being one.
They relish and despair the final blow.