[ The brightness of Noa’s smile fades a little into confusion as she watches Cole pull up the image and sound. But of course, once she recognizes it, it’s impossible to feel anything but wistful, melancholy and joy mingling as she watches her younger self — only two years younger, truly, but the difference between seventeen and nineteen might as well be years — and reaches out a hand before she stops halfway. ]
This was the first time I heard CY-Ren’s music. How did you...? [ She shakes her head — of course, she knows better. Guardian powers don’t have to follow any sort of logic! But though she’s heard the music again recently, showing it to Foster and Peridot, but this is different. It takes her back to that time, in that memory and place: muscles aching, on the brink of despair, wondering if it would be easier if she just gave up and—
It’s Noa’s memory. She knows how the rest of this goes. CY-Ren’s song finishes, but already, the Noa in the memory is looping it back to start again, raising her arms — and the real Noa does the same. They begin to dance together, past and present, mirror images improvising to CY-Ren’s music, half-wild and half-defiant. It’s no perfectly mixed track, and her movements grow larger and a bit more ridiculous to match the ramping of the song’s intensity, but at the end of it the Noa of the past ends up on the floor, laughing hard enough to cry.
The real Noa slows to a stop, lowering her arms. She’s not crying, but she is a little bit misty-eyed, if nothing else. ]
I’d almost forgotten about that. [ She tells Cole. ] Thank you for reminding me.
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This was the first time I heard CY-Ren’s music. How did you...? [ She shakes her head — of course, she knows better. Guardian powers don’t have to follow any sort of logic! But though she’s heard the music again recently, showing it to Foster and Peridot, but this is different. It takes her back to that time, in that memory and place: muscles aching, on the brink of despair, wondering if it would be easier if she just gave up and—
It’s Noa’s memory. She knows how the rest of this goes. CY-Ren’s song finishes, but already, the Noa in the memory is looping it back to start again, raising her arms — and the real Noa does the same. They begin to dance together, past and present, mirror images improvising to CY-Ren’s music, half-wild and half-defiant. It’s no perfectly mixed track, and her movements grow larger and a bit more ridiculous to match the ramping of the song’s intensity, but at the end of it the Noa of the past ends up on the floor, laughing hard enough to cry.
The real Noa slows to a stop, lowering her arms. She’s not crying, but she is a little bit misty-eyed, if nothing else. ]
I’d almost forgotten about that. [ She tells Cole. ] Thank you for reminding me.