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"You’re not like him, you know," Cimorene says softly. "You are nothing like him."
Alphinaud doesn't need to be told to whom she is referring. Not when they're in the final stages of preparing to ascend Mount Gulg and put an end to Vauthry's reign - and the reign of the Lightwardens - for good.
He gives her a polite smile. "I know," he says in a way that means thank you.
Cimorene shakes her head. It's imperative that he understands this. "Alphinaud, look at me," she says, willing some steel into her tone.
He does. He looks older, she thinks, and not just in reflection of his literal extra year on the First. He isn't the boy she met in Gridania, in so many ways.
"I am not saying this as your friend," she says. "I am saying this as someone who was there. At your worst. Your most arrogant and most- most annoying. You remember I was saddled helping you with forming the Braves, don't you?"
He flushes a little, but he doesn't look away. "I do."
"Then believe me when I say what was most apparent throughout all of that was how much you cared. Yes, you thought you knew what was best for the whole of the alliance because of it-" Here, he does duck his head with a small, embarrassed laugh, and her tone softens. "But no one doubted that you were doing it out of a real, genuine love for every person living there. A kind of love Vauthry never gave his citizens and never would have. You know that."
Alphinaud doesn't answer right away, studying her the way she has just studied him. She wonders what he sees; the Light's corruption has become more outwardly apparent following defeating Storge, she knows. Her hair is lighter, her skin colder. She doesn't know what another Lightwarden will do, but… she needs Alphinaud to know that he was never anything like Vauthry, in case fighting Vauthry ends up killing her.
She can see the moment that occurs to him. His eyes grow wet and he blinks a few too many times to vainly prevent any of the tears from spilling. She would not fault him if they did - she wishes to ever be a person he can cry to when needed - but nonetheless they both understand now is not the time for it. Instead, once he's regained composure, he nods and smiles.
“Thank you, Cimorene,” he says.
She smiles back. This was all she needed. “Come on, then. Let’s finish this.”
"You know you're not-"
"I know," Cimorene interrupts. She doesn't sound annoyed, but then, she doesn't sound much of anything. Dim lantern light catches on tear tracks down pale cheeks and her once-long hair now lays scattered around her because she couldn't look like… someone she could not even name. Alphinaud does not consider her composure a good thing.
"Will you allow me to finish, please?" He says, gentle and patient.
That earns him something like incredulity. Then, with a small deflating exhale, she nods. The mildly exasperated acquiescence is reminiscent to how she took being ordered around by him in their early days together. Fitting really, given what he's about to say.
"You're not much like me, you know."
Once Alphinaud would have considered her inscrutable, even as their friendship grew. Now he can note surprise, confusion, a war between hurt and amusement - all in a furrow of her brow and small intake of breath.
"… What?" she says at last.
He smiles. "If there is one thing I can claim to know, that I might go so far as to say I have expertise in, it's ambition," he says. "Surely you recall why I wished to create the Crystal Braves; I wanted to be a champion of Eorzea, a savior of the realm. In short, I wanted to be your equal."
Cimorene's eyes widen slightly, but she says nothing. She understands him as well as he does her, and she knows he's not finished.
"I also need not remind you that I fell short in every possible metric," he continues, keeping his tone light. The sting is still there, ever shall be, but he has learned to bear it. "It took me some time to understand that it wasn't strength, smarts or even Hydaelyn's blessing that separated us. No, you gained your laurels not because you sought them - it was only in your inability to sit by while others suffer, at anyone's hands, that you championed these causes."
Still holding her gaze, Alphinaud reaches to gently take the sheers from her. She lets him.
"I cannot claim to know exactly what in Halmarut or Calyx's words hurt you thus, but I can and will remind you that it is through your conviction that Eorzea, Etheirys, and its Reflections yet live… and for that I will ever consider you my inspiration."
That does it, as he expected it might. Cimorene blinks like she is shaking off a stupor, then all at once her eyes are filled with tears. He immediately drops the sheers so he can pull her close, lets her cry as she has let him so many times after so many failures. She has never thought less of him for any of them, and he cannot fathom her ever failing him though he knows she feels otherwise. He means what he said to her, they are in many ways very different, but they're not without their similarities either. How fitting for family.
She does not explain herself, but he doesn't expect her to. Instead, after some indeterminate amount of silence, she murmurs, "Thank you."
He nods. Her comfort is the only accolade he needs.