[He'd promised, hadn't he, that in return for the gift of twenty-four hours to think, he'd drop the pretenses he's been so staunchly maintaining since the moment he and Noctis had first arrived in this strange, colorless world. He'd promised that in twenty-four hours' time, he would stop lying and bare the truth, no matter how wretched or how painful, because more than simply the fact that Noctis deserves to hear the truth, he deserves to have people around him that he knows he can trust to be truthful with him. A king cannot lead without faith in the people walking forward with him, lest he be forever doubting his own stride, and watching his own back as much as the road ahead.
(It's a thought that makes Ignis's heart ache, to think of King Regis's last days, and what Nyx had told him about the fall of Insomnia. Traitors among the Glaives, the ones granted the ability to wield the king's own power — may Ifrit's fire be burning them even now, he thinks savagely, but even that is nowhere near punishment enough for that treason.)
The benefit of the twenty-four hours isn't really for the sake of figuring out how to make this conversation go any easier; he already knows, all too acutely, that there's nothing about this conversation that will be easy. But with the time he has, he can at least make things more comfortable, more safe. He can choose his setting and his time. He can try his best to help ease Noct into it, and to be ready to manage the fallout that will inevitably come.
So he chooses a time when they're crammed together on Noct's mattress, when he's got his arms wound around his king because these days that's the only time he ever feels that Noct is really and truly safe, when the covers are warm and pulled up around them and it's a little bit like they're children again, making plans to sneak out and look at the stars around the patrol patterns of the guards designed to keep them from it.
Noctis is warm, and safe, and alive.
Every time he closes his eyes, Ignis sees the silver steel of Ardyn's dagger poised over Noct's throat while he lies there unconscious on the wet remains of Leviathan's altar, and he shivers.]
[ One more day, Ignis promises, and the weight of that is on his shoulders, the impending dread nagging at the back of his mind as they go about their chores and duties in the daytime. One more day, and Noctis runs through a multitude of grim possibilities, his thoughts circling around and around until he tires of it.
But he promised Ignis that reprieve, even if when it came time for him to collect, Noctis is too exhausted to stay awake. Chores and dread and anxiety and stress are a potent mix, and it's only when he finally gives himself to sleep in the sanctuary of Ignis' arms that he comes to relax, slow and gradual. Ignis has always been an instinctive place of safety; the scent of him enough to lull Noctis to sleep -- how many hundreds of nights have they spent together since they were children, Ignis the balm to his frantic moods, his tears and his terror when he wakes at night, anchoring him and soothing him and stilling his frazzled nerves?
They don't do that as much anymore, but Noctis recognises safety instinctively, and in a strange place like this, that small piece of comfort is precious, worth so much more than its weight in gold. He's close enough to hear the calming beat of his heart against his ear, and if he doesn't think about it hard enough, he could pretend that everything is all right.
He's twined with him, sharing the same bed underneath a blanket, warm like a cocoon against the chill of the night; Ignis' body heat a welcome reprieve, a blanket of security that puts him at ease subconsciously -- the body remembers what the mind forgets, and the body remembers years and years of shared comfort, of a serenity tagged to Ignis' slow-breathing frame, as if the child inside of him knows that no harm will befall him as long as Ignis is near.
But they're not children anymore, and Noctis can no longer be the protected when his destiny lies before him, a death knell that draws closer slowly but surely.
Ignis speaks up, soft and quiet, and Noctis' response is muzzy, sleep-heavy. He stirs against his chest, shifting. ]
Mmm?
[ They're supposed to talk about this; time's up. ]
[You know, let's just say they exchanged hexcodes at some point TO MAKE THIS EASIER--but regardless, Noct is getting a message!]
This is Noct, right? It's Minato. I was just checking in... it seems like a lot of people ended up getting into some trouble, so I wanted to see how you were.
[The spell breaks, and the three towns all return to one.
By whatever criteria is being employed to adjudicate these matters, Ignis has "succeeded"; he'd held out against temptation and the hunger pangs, ignoring the food that had cropped up all around him — pun intended — and remaining obedient to the rule laid out for those of his color to follow. It's over now, and it's arguably a victory. And yet whatever victory he may have claimed from all this, it feels a hollow one, in light of what he'd lost to achieve it.
Prompto, gone. Noct, disappeared. Neither one of them anywhere to be found, and nothing in the world that he could do about it.
The clock ticks over, and yet he's up on the roof again, playing his violin and watching the stars, unaware that at long last the ordeal has concluded.]
[ It's not so much his awareness of time passing as it is his awareness of Ignis, the mournful pull of the violin handled with impeccable finesse, emotion poured into every note but not enough for it to be gauche. It's delicate, it's familiar, and he knows he's back -- he knows Ignis is here, and he bolts from where he had been settled in the room in the hope that he would return and be found.
And yet, here he is, not too far away -- rooftop, from the sounds of it, and Noctis has never acted faster, bolting from the room they share (far too empty for his liking, even if Prompto's around and makes up for most of it) to stumble outside, hurriedly composing himself to look like he hadn't been waiting for him to come back.
He's here, he's back and he's not a figment of his imagination. Noctis pauses, his heart in his throat. He doesn't say a thing, but he's sure his eyes betray everything -- relief, such relief, happiness, and then some he hasn't quite come around to classifying yet. ]
[Nyx gingerly makes his way down the walk to the chocobohouse, leaning his weight against Chocobob as he moves. The green bird is remarkably patient, something he'll be grateful for for the rest of his life now. She keeps grabbing his braid in her beak, nuzzling against the side of his head every time he inhales a little too sharply. He digs his fingers under her feathers, petting her fondly in thanks.]
Almost there.
[It's only a couple houses down, but it feels like it takes him twenty minutes to get there. Cure'd done little more than make sure the bogeyman's hit on him didn't bleed out--and he's been down this road so many times he knows when the only thing he can really do is just let the damn thing heal--but staying in bed all day wasn't his idea of a relaxing time. There aren't any nurses or best friends or captains to keep him laying down.
Besides, this trip is important. He hopes Noctis is actually home and not out somewhere. Nyx might have to steal a soft corner if he is.
Finally Chocobob sees him safely to the front door, and Nyx knocks heavily as he catches his breath.]
[It's been a couple of days or so after the fateful bogeyman thing, and their lives are only just starting to revert to the standard, fragile equilibrium that it's always had before something comes along an upends it again.
This time, it's the knock at his door, and thankfully Noctis is within earshot. He attends to it immediately, surprised to see Nyx, somewhat the worse for wear, but thankfully still alive. Just barely. ]
Nyx, what're you doing here?
[ He's opening the door for him immediately to invite him in, moving to help him to sit on the couch. ]
[ dextera has been buzzing to tell someone about what happened between him and guren. he’s not normally the gossiping type, and he’s not going to go blabbing all the details, but going back to his house after that was a laborious effort and if he doesn’t say something about it to someone he’s going to die.
it’s not that he knocks on noctis’ door or anything. he’s not that bold. instead, he does the thing that people who have something they want to say do, and when he and noctis happen to be in the kitchen together, he… hovers. he seems happy, certainly, and eager for noctis to ask what’s on his mind. ]
[ and the best person to tell, of course, is noctis.
definitely noctis, who is innocently cleaning up the stuff in the kitchen, washing away plates and utensils and putting them away. it doesn't take long for him to notice dex, who's hovering around in the way that noctis instinctively knows he wants to talk -- it's a thing, okay, they're close enough to have things with each other and communicating with dex is now like some sort of sixth sense. bonus: noctis also really loves getting to talk to him, so.
dex is happy. he looks more rosy than he ever has and it's saying a lot -- there's a pep in his step and noctis finds himself smiling at that eagerness. he's drying that last plate, handing it to dex for him to put on the drying board. ]
You look real pleased. [ and like he's showered! and really clean! ] What's up, buddy?
[It's Ignis's nature, perhaps even a little moreso than for most, to try to enact the right thing in any given situation. That's the role of an advisor, fundamentally: to see the options, to adjudicate the right one, and to pass that opinion along to the one set to make the decision. And he's said before that if he does have one flaw that prevents him from being a capable leader, it's that he's not good at the decision-making aspect, in the end. He's better at simply laying out all of the possibilities, offering insight into their benefits and detriments, and letting someone else choose the path they'll walk together.
That tendency is why situations like this are so hard for him. Because he wants to do the right thing, and knows that the right thing is what's best for Noct, but the two possible choices lie in diametric opposition and the one that seems to be right for him has historically proven to be wrong.
Prompto said that Noct needed to know his future, needed to know the things that go on behind the scenes. When his loved ones keep secrets from him, it hurts him. What his father did...it had hurt him.
And that's rationale that can be applied out to Prompto as well, Ignis thinks. Prompto hates to be left out, or to be made to feel different. Perhaps there's no secret so horrible that he'd rather it be kept, as opposed to telling him. No matter how much it might hurt, being left out would hurt more.
So now he knows. What's done is done. And now it's time for Noct to know, too. Which means he needs to go find him.]
[ Ignis has always made the logically astute call -- whether it's preparing Noctis for being king, or taking down enemies. He's a strategist to the bone, and his plans are always stunningly accurate. Flawless, beautiful to a tee.
Except for one thing -- when he's dealing with someone as emotionally inclined as Noctis is, when so much of what he feels and thinks have everything to do with emotion and his heart that it throws even the best laid plans out of whack.
It makes the most sense to tell Prompto. It is, rationally, the best move to make. The correct move, and yet, choices like these are loaded with baggage, with emotion and unspoken fears -- Noctis is dealing with it himself, the weight of that revelation heavy on his shoulders despite the fact that finally, finally, he and Ignis are making something of their longtime attraction to each other.
He's troubled by it, still; anxiety and worry curled up in a ball in his chest -- after all, he is only human, and there's a reason why people don't usually find out how and when they die until it happens to them. Even so. He's off by himself in the kitchen, staring out at nothing in particular, lost in his own thoughts when Ignis calls to him.
He blinks, recognising his voice. ]
In here. [ He speaks up, having finished washing up the food bowls for the chocobos. This thing with Ignis is fledgling but no less precious, and he can't help a strange little flutter in his chest -- funny how you can know someone all your life and yet still be charmed when they say your name. ] Y'need something?
So I know I'm kind of...better friends with Prompto than I am with you. I mean I see you around and stuff but we don't really hang out that much, we're just. Kind of in the same circles but like, ships passing in the night. Or whatever. But Prompto talks about you so much that I feel like I know you. I don't know if he talks about me enough to you for you to feel that way back, but you're, like, his favorite topic of conversation, so.
Full disclosure, I probably wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for that quest. Nobody wants to be that guy who just walks up to someone and dumps their feelings all over them. But, um.
...I don't know if you even remember it, but way back when I first even got here, you were one of the first people I met, and you came along eating these purple french fries and I was all fucked up, but you gave them to me. Like...just like that, you just. "Here". And that was it.
That was, um.
That was the first time anyone had been nice to me, just nice to me, in...months. Like, a lot of months. And maybe it wasn't a big thing to you, but.
Anyway, I just.
It made a difference. To me. I don't think you were even trying but it made a difference to me, that's what I wanted to say. So every good thing Prompto says about you...I never think he's exaggerating. I just think you are everything he says you are. I think he's right about you.
[ OKAY SO THIS IS A LOT. This is also really... it's nice. Noctis isn't always the best at approaching someone, there are way too many ways to screw it up, but he really appreciates that Flora pretty much took the time out to remember that, and to tell him about it. ]
Don't mention it, it's not much. I couldn't just let a girl go without fries, right?
But thanks for this, I really appreciate it. I remember, though. And I'm glad you're settling in quite well now. I'm sorry that was the first time anyone was nice to you in months, and I hope people are nice to you more often.
[ THEN SECOND TEXT, like five minutes later. ]
Do you want to hang out, or something? I just caught tuna.
[Left atop Noct's pillow: a soft lumpy package wrapped in gray butcher paper that's about the size and shape of a drinking glass, with a folded note on top. When opened, the note reads: ]
Noct,
I have no way of knowing for certain if today is your birthday or not. I think I've got it reasonably close, however; I've been measuring the length of daylight from sunrise to sunset for a few weeks now, and though it's only an approximation, I'm fairly confident that based on the amount of daylight in each day lately, we're somewhere near what we on Eos would consider to be the end of August right now.
Once, I would have been ashamed to offer you so poor a gift as the one I've put in this package. When we were children, I always wanted everything to be perfect for you, or at least as perfect as I could make it. I couldn't abide the thought of giving you less than the best. But I'm starting to understand, gradually, that sometimes objective perfection and "the best" aren't inherently synonymous. Sometimes something imperfect can be superior, when the recipient neither asks nor desires perfection to begin with.
What we are to each other, this thing between us...it may never be objectively perfect. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the best thing to have ever happened to me.
Happy birthday, darling.
- I.
[And inside the package, provided it's opened carefully, Noct will find a precious photograph, tucked beneath the floppy ear of a hand-sewn, sort of unfortunately lumpy rag doll clearly pieced together out of a faded terrycloth towel and some makeshift stuffing.]
[ Noctis reads the note, baffled at first, then with dawning realisation, and he picks up the toy, his heart so full, so warm. He doesn't even remember that it's his birthday, but if Ignis says it is, then it must surely be.
He doesn't forget the first time he'd bugged Ignis incessantly about stargazing when they had been children, and how ever since that first time, the man's had a precise, accurate bead on just when the stars would be out on his birthday. Of course, he supposes, this time wouldn't be any different, either.
He smiles down at the photograph, tucking both it and the note into his pocket like it's something precious (it is), the stuffed toy cradled in his arm. Ignis must have spent a long time making this, gathering up whatever scrap he could just for today, sewing it up where Noctis hasn't noticed, and to him, this is the most perfect gift in the world, full of heart and intent.
So he waits for him to come home, and once Ignis walks through the door to their room he's pulling him down by his collar and kissing him hard. ]
[ the occasion for this has very much passed - by Lupin's count, it's been nearly two months since his transformation. The town seems to have largely forgotten about it, himself included, and for that, he's thankful... except, just now, he realized that he'd forgotten one thing he shouldn't have. He'd gone around making reparations to everyone he'd attacked, save for one person. Or, rather, one chocobo. It completely slipped his mind - probably because Noctis intervened and kept him from actually hurting anyone, person or animal.
Still, it was a rude thing to do, and he'd rather come forward about it now and apologize than wait for Noctis to realize what he'd actually been trying to do when Spot "attacked" him. So here he is, knocking at Noctis's door early one afternoon. ]
[ Noctis, bless him, doesn't actually figure out just what it was that Lupin had been trying to do. Heck, Lupin had said it was all a misunderstanding, right? Noctis likes him enough to trust him, even if there had been something just a little off -- still, it's all water under the bridge. The curse is over, and everything has gone as well as can be (which is to say, not really).
So when Lupin comes up and knocks at the door, there is an indignant 'kweh' on the other side of it, and a Noctis shushing the animal before the door opens. ]
[It's been too long and Prompto can't wait any more.
He's all for Noct taking the space he needs, especially when some of those weird shared memories seem to be triggered by stuff as unavoidable as eye contact. He knows enough that Noct got the brunt of everyone else's unpleasantness, and he knows Noct well enough to know how badly he'll blame himself. For everything. And he doesn't even have Gladio to help him turn it into anger instead of grief. If, uh, "help" is the right word for all the stuff Gladio did when they left Altissia.
But anyway, it's been days. It doesn't seem like whatever was happening is happening anymore, and besides, that isn't even the problem. The problem is that Noct isn't here, and no matter what, that's just wrong. Ignis needs him. Prompto needs him. All his friends need him.
And so, in spite of all the dangers the woods hold, Prompto pulls his wool cap down over his ears and sets off to find him, two rocks in his vest pockets, gun in his hand, caution to the wind as he follows what he hopes is Noct's trail of dead animals and not some monster's.]
[ Too much; it was all too much. The last straw had been the memory of his father felled, burned into his eyelids -- his father's final moments is nothing Noctis would ever have wished on anyone save for his murderer, violent, terrible, and every time it replays itself in his mind Noctis feels like screaming. What more had Regis left to give, when everything had been taken away? His life's work, everything shattered before the Empire's greed.
Noctis' anger and grief had known no bounds, then, and he'd escaped -- away from people, from all the memories, the weight of so many people's grief so that he could tend to his own broken heart. He doesn't deal well with it, sequestering himself in the woods for the next few days, as if in hiding within he could cut himself off from the world just for a little while.
It works, just a little. But when he hears a nearby call for his name Noctis blinks slowly. He'd been resting in the nook of a tree, a monster of unknown origin felled just paces away from him, cut open from head to toe. He's sweaty, dirty, bloody, and it takes him a few moments to pin the voice to its owner.
Prompto. Prompto's here.
It crosses his mind not to answer, and so he doesn't, for a few seconds or so before he finally speaks up, not as loud as he should have. ]
[So as it turns out, a lot of people are grateful for Ignis, if the way he's abruptly and inexplicably taken ill is any indication. It's nothing so visible as Starscourge, thankfully, and nothing so dramatic as hanahaki, but it is a malady that leaves him feeling weaker than usual at unexpected times, and lightheaded in others, and just all-around woozy for the vast majority.
And of course, being Ignis, at first he tries to soldier on through it. Oh, he assesses his own health, of course, and makes a mental note not to push himself as hard as usual to compensate. He allots more time for the same basic tasks, and cuts out more duties that aren't strictly essential. He schedules some time for a brisk nap in the afternoon, which is outright unheard-of, but it helps to perk him up at least a little, even if it doesn't seem to have actually remedied the problem any.
It leaves him alert enough, at least, to think that he can manage a trip out to the garden, and at first he's just going to go and come back without preamble, but then gradually something nags at him. Something about hubris, and taking too much upon himself, and refusing to rely on others, and hurting the people he loves because of it.
So instead, before he leaves, he goes to find Noctis, who is just down by the docks trying his hand at fishing. It's a much shorter distance than trying to trek to Flavo, and he tells himself that he can make it that far, at least.
He's...well, mostly right.
He's managed to make it about as far as the docks when a fit of dizziness overtakes him, leaving him lightheaded and wobbling, but Noctis is right there and he takes a step to steady himself, but his foot lands wrong on the planks and his ankle rolls in an unpleasant fashion as he finally tips irrevocably off-balance.]
Noct —
[There's time, perhaps, if Noctis has quick enough reflexes, to warp over in time to catch Ignis before he pitches over and lands hard against the dock — but of course, he'll have to be fast about it.]
[ A lot of people should be grateful for Ignis -- and none are more grateful to Ignis than Noctis. For Noctis, Ignis had given up so much, wordless and selfless, sacrificing almost everything for his sake, anchoring him, being by his side. And now that their relationship's irrevocably shifted into something on more equal ground, something even deeper and more intimate, Noctis remains filled with gratitude and love.
So he'd planned to make a good meal for him, from catching the elusive tuna to skinning it and making a good breakfast right down to the ground coffee beans, just the way he likes it.
What he hadn't expected, however, is Ignis coming to find him, and he turns just in time to see him stumble, paler than when Noctis had left him this morning. He drops the rod almost immediately, lightning quick reflexes in action as he warps to him in the space of a heartbeat, catching Ignis as he falls. ]
Iggy!
[ Noctis is startled, an arm around his waist to keep him braced, the other on his shoulder. ]
no my question is why did you do that? what did you mean when you told him you loved him?
[ are you going to hurt prompto, he wants to ask. are you going to break his heart? prompto's heart is soft, warm and open -- and prompto loves flora with all of that soft, warm, open heart. what he doesn't know is if flora feels the same. what if she doesn't? ]
[Let me think about it, Ignis had requested in the wake of Noct's confession, as the truth about what had transpired while they were all trapped in the castle of ice and snow had gradually come to light. It's a conundrum of the highest order, really, because the more he thinks about it, the more he finds he really isn't as upset as reason would suggest he probably should be, and that just leaves him with a whole new line of inquiry, left picking apart why his feelings aren't what he would've assumed they would be.
It takes him a while, because he examines those feelings like he's methodically turning over stone after stone on a garden path, exploring what he finds there and cataloguing it into a greater whole. It doesn't always come easily; sometimes he pokes and prods, tests and questions, and sometimes even has to make guesses that he tests like hypotheses to see if he's right.
It comes slowly, and over time. But eventually, he thinks himself through, and that's when he goes to find Noctis.]
Noct.
[He's got a blanket with him; it's quite possibly the one they earned together, cuddling.]
[ Noctis gives him as much space as he needs, even if Ignis' silence threatens a profound avalanche of insecurities that the prince picks through constantly. Maybe Ignis doesn't really love him, after all -- or maybe he's really mad and is letting him stew. He cycles between two of that nearly, unable to grasp a third potential option -- or at least, not quite able to hold on to it because it's way too new and unfamiliar a concept.
So when Ignis calls him over and asks if he wants to cuddle, essentially -- Noctis comes over from petting Spot and feeding him. ]
Sure.
[ He tells him, supposes that this isn't a prelude to a breakup, right? You don't cuddle a person you want to break up with, not even when you're Ignis. Probably. Maybe. ]
[Once they're far enough away--well, no, they're never going to be far enough away, not until Ardyn's on an entirely different plane of existence from them. Once they're home, or as close to home as they can get in Bluo, Prompto closes the door to their shared room in that cramped house and seems to lose whatever nerve he had entirely.]
Oh, man...
[He sinks into a crouch right there at the door, face in his hands, color draining rapidly out of his cheeks.]
Oh, no. I can't believe that happened. I, I can't believe I did that. I can't believe you did that!
[His voice wobbles and breaks, terror bubbling up too abruptly to sound angry.]
I can ask the same thing of everything you did the past few days.
[ There should be bite behind it, but there isn't, because he's leaning against the wall, adjacent to Prompto as he lets it all sink in. Prompto fired an arrow into Ardyn, Prompto apparently followed him out and came for him despite that whole thing on the network, and he rubs his hand over his face tiredly. There are a million thoughts churning in his head, several threads of logic that he wants to pull together but the truth of it seems horrific, entirely out of this world. Adagium, the bogeyman, accursed, a monster that mothers tell their children about to get them to eat their greens, and here he is. ]
You saw that, right? The armiger. His armiger. [ He drew that sword out like it was nothing. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
→ one day more
(It's a thought that makes Ignis's heart ache, to think of King Regis's last days, and what Nyx had told him about the fall of Insomnia. Traitors among the Glaives, the ones granted the ability to wield the king's own power — may Ifrit's fire be burning them even now, he thinks savagely, but even that is nowhere near punishment enough for that treason.)
The benefit of the twenty-four hours isn't really for the sake of figuring out how to make this conversation go any easier; he already knows, all too acutely, that there's nothing about this conversation that will be easy. But with the time he has, he can at least make things more comfortable, more safe. He can choose his setting and his time. He can try his best to help ease Noct into it, and to be ready to manage the fallout that will inevitably come.
So he chooses a time when they're crammed together on Noct's mattress, when he's got his arms wound around his king because these days that's the only time he ever feels that Noct is really and truly safe, when the covers are warm and pulled up around them and it's a little bit like they're children again, making plans to sneak out and look at the stars around the patrol patterns of the guards designed to keep them from it.
Noctis is warm, and safe, and alive.
Every time he closes his eyes, Ignis sees the silver steel of Ardyn's dagger poised over Noct's throat while he lies there unconscious on the wet remains of Leviathan's altar, and he shivers.]
...Still awake, Noct?
no subject
But he promised Ignis that reprieve, even if when it came time for him to collect, Noctis is too exhausted to stay awake. Chores and dread and anxiety and stress are a potent mix, and it's only when he finally gives himself to sleep in the sanctuary of Ignis' arms that he comes to relax, slow and gradual. Ignis has always been an instinctive place of safety; the scent of him enough to lull Noctis to sleep -- how many hundreds of nights have they spent together since they were children, Ignis the balm to his frantic moods, his tears and his terror when he wakes at night, anchoring him and soothing him and stilling his frazzled nerves?
They don't do that as much anymore, but Noctis recognises safety instinctively, and in a strange place like this, that small piece of comfort is precious, worth so much more than its weight in gold. He's close enough to hear the calming beat of his heart against his ear, and if he doesn't think about it hard enough, he could pretend that everything is all right.
He's twined with him, sharing the same bed underneath a blanket, warm like a cocoon against the chill of the night; Ignis' body heat a welcome reprieve, a blanket of security that puts him at ease subconsciously -- the body remembers what the mind forgets, and the body remembers years and years of shared comfort, of a serenity tagged to Ignis' slow-breathing frame, as if the child inside of him knows that no harm will befall him as long as Ignis is near.
But they're not children anymore, and Noctis can no longer be the protected when his destiny lies before him, a death knell that draws closer slowly but surely.
Ignis speaks up, soft and quiet, and Noctis' response is muzzy, sleep-heavy. He stirs against his chest, shifting. ]
Mmm?
[ They're supposed to talk about this; time's up. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
#3630FF; post-forest suffering
This is Noct, right? It's Minato. I was just checking in... it seems like a lot of people ended up getting into some trouble, so I wanted to see how you were.
no subject
hey, man
ive uh been better
what about you?
what trouble?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
→ reunion
By whatever criteria is being employed to adjudicate these matters, Ignis has "succeeded"; he'd held out against temptation and the hunger pangs, ignoring the food that had cropped up all around him — pun intended — and remaining obedient to the rule laid out for those of his color to follow. It's over now, and it's arguably a victory. And yet whatever victory he may have claimed from all this, it feels a hollow one, in light of what he'd lost to achieve it.
Prompto, gone. Noct, disappeared. Neither one of them anywhere to be found, and nothing in the world that he could do about it.
The clock ticks over, and yet he's up on the roof again, playing his violin and watching the stars, unaware that at long last the ordeal has concluded.]
no subject
And yet, here he is, not too far away -- rooftop, from the sounds of it, and Noctis has never acted faster, bolting from the room they share (far too empty for his liking, even if Prompto's around and makes up for most of it) to stumble outside, hurriedly composing himself to look like he hadn't been waiting for him to come back.
He's here, he's back and he's not a figment of his imagination. Noctis pauses, his heart in his throat. He doesn't say a thing, but he's sure his eyes betray everything -- relief, such relief, happiness, and then some he hasn't quite come around to classifying yet. ]
Some entrance you're making.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
#AA3333 | during punishment week
Prompto says you can't talk to anybody. Figured maybe I'd see if "talking" isn't synonymous with "typing".
no subject
you're prompto's friend?
i can't interact with him in any way, not even through text
he ok?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
A couple days after the bogeyman hunt
Almost there.
[It's only a couple houses down, but it feels like it takes him twenty minutes to get there. Cure'd done little more than make sure the bogeyman's hit on him didn't bleed out--and he's been down this road so many times he knows when the only thing he can really do is just let the damn thing heal--but staying in bed all day wasn't his idea of a relaxing time. There aren't any nurses or best friends or captains to keep him laying down.
Besides, this trip is important. He hopes Noctis is actually home and not out somewhere. Nyx might have to steal a soft corner if he is.
Finally Chocobob sees him safely to the front door, and Nyx knocks heavily as he catches his breath.]
no subject
This time, it's the knock at his door, and thankfully Noctis is within earshot. He attends to it immediately, surprised to see Nyx, somewhat the worse for wear, but thankfully still alive. Just barely. ]
Nyx, what're you doing here?
[ He's opening the door for him immediately to invite him in, moving to help him to sit on the couch. ]
Shouldn't you be resting?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action | after… you know.
it’s not that he knocks on noctis’ door or anything. he’s not that bold. instead, he does the thing that people who have something they want to say do, and when he and noctis happen to be in the kitchen together, he… hovers. he seems happy, certainly, and eager for noctis to ask what’s on his mind. ]
after whaaaaaat? c:
definitely noctis, who is innocently cleaning up the stuff in the kitchen, washing away plates and utensils and putting them away. it doesn't take long for him to notice dex, who's hovering around in the way that noctis instinctively knows he wants to talk -- it's a thing, okay, they're close enough to have things with each other and communicating with dex is now like some sort of sixth sense. bonus: noctis also really loves getting to talk to him, so.
dex is happy. he looks more rosy than he ever has and it's saying a lot -- there's a pep in his step and noctis finds himself smiling at that eagerness. he's drying that last plate, handing it to dex for him to put on the drying board. ]
You look real pleased. [ and like he's showered! and really clean! ] What's up, buddy?
;)
:3!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
→ confession
That tendency is why situations like this are so hard for him. Because he wants to do the right thing, and knows that the right thing is what's best for Noct, but the two possible choices lie in diametric opposition and the one that seems to be right for him has historically proven to be wrong.
Prompto said that Noct needed to know his future, needed to know the things that go on behind the scenes. When his loved ones keep secrets from him, it hurts him. What his father did...it had hurt him.
And that's rationale that can be applied out to Prompto as well, Ignis thinks. Prompto hates to be left out, or to be made to feel different. Perhaps there's no secret so horrible that he'd rather it be kept, as opposed to telling him. No matter how much it might hurt, being left out would hurt more.
So now he knows. What's done is done. And now it's time for Noct to know, too. Which means he needs to go find him.]
Noct?
no subject
Except for one thing -- when he's dealing with someone as emotionally inclined as Noctis is, when so much of what he feels and thinks have everything to do with emotion and his heart that it throws even the best laid plans out of whack.
It makes the most sense to tell Prompto. It is, rationally, the best move to make. The correct move, and yet, choices like these are loaded with baggage, with emotion and unspoken fears -- Noctis is dealing with it himself, the weight of that revelation heavy on his shoulders despite the fact that finally, finally, he and Ignis are making something of their longtime attraction to each other.
He's troubled by it, still; anxiety and worry curled up in a ball in his chest -- after all, he is only human, and there's a reason why people don't usually find out how and when they die until it happens to them. Even so. He's off by himself in the kitchen, staring out at nothing in particular, lost in his own thoughts when Ignis calls to him.
He blinks, recognising his voice. ]
In here. [ He speaks up, having finished washing up the food bowls for the chocobos. This thing with Ignis is fledgling but no less precious, and he can't help a strange little flutter in his chest -- funny how you can know someone all your life and yet still be charmed when they say your name. ] Y'need something?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
→ dumbshit
I could ask out loud, but it's late, and this way is quieter.
→ cuteshit, ftfy
[ He's just reaching for the coffee aaaaaaaaaaaaand bringing it to his side. ]
oops, six.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
#FFF59D
u been spotted by.........the $ MONEY GOO$E $
send the $ MONEY GOO$E $ to 3 people or u get scorched
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
#AA3333
u been spotted by.........the $ MONEY GOO$E $
send the $ MONEY GOO$E $ to 3 people or u get scorched
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
#AA3333 | time is an illusion but before sirens probably
So I know I'm kind of...better friends with Prompto than I am with you. I mean I see you around and stuff but we don't really hang out that much, we're just. Kind of in the same circles but like, ships passing in the night. Or whatever. But Prompto talks about you so much that I feel like I know you. I don't know if he talks about me enough to you for you to feel that way back, but you're, like, his favorite topic of conversation, so.
Full disclosure, I probably wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for that quest. Nobody wants to be that guy who just walks up to someone and dumps their feelings all over them. But, um.
...I don't know if you even remember it, but way back when I first even got here, you were one of the first people I met, and you came along eating these purple french fries and I was all fucked up, but you gave them to me. Like...just like that, you just. "Here". And that was it.
That was, um.
That was the first time anyone had been nice to me, just nice to me, in...months. Like, a lot of months. And maybe it wasn't a big thing to you, but.
Anyway, I just.
It made a difference. To me. I don't think you were even trying but it made a difference to me, that's what I wanted to say. So every good thing Prompto says about you...I never think he's exaggerating. I just think you are everything he says you are. I think he's right about you.
...Anyway, I...guess that's it.
no subject
Don't mention it, it's not much. I couldn't just let a girl go without fries, right?
But thanks for this, I really appreciate it. I remember, though. And I'm glad you're settling in quite well now. I'm sorry that was the first time anyone was nice to you in months, and I hope people are nice to you more often.
[ THEN SECOND TEXT, like five minutes later. ]
Do you want to hang out, or something? I just caught tuna.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
post-event 9
no subject
yeah sure, do you know where bluo is
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
→ DELIVERY, 8/30
Noct,
I have no way of knowing for certain if today is your birthday or not. I think I've got it reasonably close, however; I've been measuring the length of daylight from sunrise to sunset for a few weeks now, and though it's only an approximation, I'm fairly confident that based on the amount of daylight in each day lately, we're somewhere near what we on Eos would consider to be the end of August right now.
Once, I would have been ashamed to offer you so poor a gift as the one I've put in this package. When we were children, I always wanted everything to be perfect for you, or at least as perfect as I could make it. I couldn't abide the thought of giving you less than the best. But I'm starting to understand, gradually, that sometimes objective perfection and "the best" aren't inherently synonymous. Sometimes something imperfect can be superior, when the recipient neither asks nor desires perfection to begin with.
What we are to each other, this thing between us...it may never be objectively perfect. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the best thing to have ever happened to me.
Happy birthday, darling.
- I.
[And inside the package, provided it's opened carefully, Noct will find a precious photograph, tucked beneath the floppy ear of a hand-sewn, sort of unfortunately lumpy rag doll clearly pieced together out of a faded terrycloth towel and some makeshift stuffing.]
no subject
He doesn't forget the first time he'd bugged Ignis incessantly about stargazing when they had been children, and how ever since that first time, the man's had a precise, accurate bead on just when the stars would be out on his birthday. Of course, he supposes, this time wouldn't be any different, either.
He smiles down at the photograph, tucking both it and the note into his pocket like it's something precious (it is), the stuffed toy cradled in his arm. Ignis must have spent a long time making this, gathering up whatever scrap he could just for today, sewing it up where Noctis hasn't noticed, and to him, this is the most perfect gift in the world, full of heart and intent.
So he waits for him to come home, and once Ignis walks through the door to their room he's pulling him down by his collar and kissing him hard. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action
Still, it was a rude thing to do, and he'd rather come forward about it now and apologize than wait for Noctis to realize what he'd actually been trying to do when Spot "attacked" him. So here he is, knocking at Noctis's door early one afternoon. ]
no subject
So when Lupin comes up and knocks at the door, there is an indignant 'kweh' on the other side of it, and a Noctis shushing the animal before the door opens. ]
Lupin? Hey! What's up?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
10/1, action
He's all for Noct taking the space he needs, especially when some of those weird shared memories seem to be triggered by stuff as unavoidable as eye contact. He knows enough that Noct got the brunt of everyone else's unpleasantness, and he knows Noct well enough to know how badly he'll blame himself. For everything. And he doesn't even have Gladio to help him turn it into anger instead of grief. If, uh, "help" is the right word for all the stuff Gladio did when they left Altissia.
But anyway, it's been days. It doesn't seem like whatever was happening is happening anymore, and besides, that isn't even the problem. The problem is that Noct isn't here, and no matter what, that's just wrong. Ignis needs him. Prompto needs him. All his friends need him.
And so, in spite of all the dangers the woods hold, Prompto pulls his wool cap down over his ears and sets off to find him, two rocks in his vest pockets, gun in his hand, caution to the wind as he follows what he hopes is Noct's trail of dead animals and not some monster's.]
Noct! Nooooooooooct!
no subject
Noctis' anger and grief had known no bounds, then, and he'd escaped -- away from people, from all the memories, the weight of so many people's grief so that he could tend to his own broken heart. He doesn't deal well with it, sequestering himself in the woods for the next few days, as if in hiding within he could cut himself off from the world just for a little while.
It works, just a little. But when he hears a nearby call for his name Noctis blinks slowly. He'd been resting in the nook of a tree, a monster of unknown origin felled just paces away from him, cut open from head to toe. He's sweaty, dirty, bloody, and it takes him a few moments to pin the voice to its owner.
Prompto. Prompto's here.
It crosses his mind not to answer, and so he doesn't, for a few seconds or so before he finally speaks up, not as loud as he should have. ]
Here.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
1) Has someone explained to you about Halloween, and
2) Do you and Ignis want to dress up in costumes with us if we dress up?
no subject
and what are you guys dressing up as
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
→ character development
And of course, being Ignis, at first he tries to soldier on through it. Oh, he assesses his own health, of course, and makes a mental note not to push himself as hard as usual to compensate. He allots more time for the same basic tasks, and cuts out more duties that aren't strictly essential. He schedules some time for a brisk nap in the afternoon, which is outright unheard-of, but it helps to perk him up at least a little, even if it doesn't seem to have actually remedied the problem any.
It leaves him alert enough, at least, to think that he can manage a trip out to the garden, and at first he's just going to go and come back without preamble, but then gradually something nags at him. Something about hubris, and taking too much upon himself, and refusing to rely on others, and hurting the people he loves because of it.
So instead, before he leaves, he goes to find Noctis, who is just down by the docks trying his hand at fishing. It's a much shorter distance than trying to trek to Flavo, and he tells himself that he can make it that far, at least.
He's...well, mostly right.
He's managed to make it about as far as the docks when a fit of dizziness overtakes him, leaving him lightheaded and wobbling, but Noctis is right there and he takes a step to steady himself, but his foot lands wrong on the planks and his ankle rolls in an unpleasant fashion as he finally tips irrevocably off-balance.]
Noct —
[There's time, perhaps, if Noctis has quick enough reflexes, to warp over in time to catch Ignis before he pitches over and lands hard against the dock — but of course, he'll have to be fast about it.]
no subject
So he'd planned to make a good meal for him, from catching the elusive tuna to skinning it and making a good breakfast right down to the ground coffee beans, just the way he likes it.
What he hadn't expected, however, is Ignis coming to find him, and he turns just in time to see him stumble, paler than when Noctis had left him this morning. He drops the rod almost immediately, lightning quick reflexes in action as he warps to him in the space of a heartbeat, catching Ignis as he falls. ]
Iggy!
[ Noctis is startled, an arm around his waist to keep him braced, the other on his shoulder. ]
Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
→ color theft aftermath
Pretty sure that means the next question is what are you going to do to me.
no subject
my question is why did you do that?
what did you mean when you told him you loved him?
[ are you going to hurt prompto, he wants to ask. are you going to break his heart? prompto's heart is soft, warm and open -- and prompto loves flora with all of that soft, warm, open heart. what he doesn't know is if flora feels the same. what if she doesn't? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
→ defrosting the ice prince
It takes him a while, because he examines those feelings like he's methodically turning over stone after stone on a garden path, exploring what he finds there and cataloguing it into a greater whole. It doesn't always come easily; sometimes he pokes and prods, tests and questions, and sometimes even has to make guesses that he tests like hypotheses to see if he's right.
It comes slowly, and over time. But eventually, he thinks himself through, and that's when he goes to find Noctis.]
Noct.
[He's got a blanket with him; it's quite possibly the one they earned together, cuddling.]
Care to lie with me awhile?
no subject
So when Ignis calls him over and asks if he wants to cuddle, essentially -- Noctis comes over from petting Spot and feeding him. ]
Sure.
[ He tells him, supposes that this isn't a prelude to a breakup, right? You don't cuddle a person you want to break up with, not even when you're Ignis. Probably. Maybe. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
#510808
no subject
what scheme?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
#510808
Should I continue? From what I've heard you don't remember this part.
no subject
it was you, wasn't it? what you did to luna.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
After Ardyn
Oh, man...
[He sinks into a crouch right there at the door, face in his hands, color draining rapidly out of his cheeks.]
Oh, no. I can't believe that happened. I, I can't believe I did that. I can't believe you did that!
[His voice wobbles and breaks, terror bubbling up too abruptly to sound angry.]
Why did you do that?
no subject
[ There should be bite behind it, but there isn't, because he's leaning against the wall, adjacent to Prompto as he lets it all sink in. Prompto fired an arrow into Ardyn, Prompto apparently followed him out and came for him despite that whole thing on the network, and he rubs his hand over his face tiredly. There are a million thoughts churning in his head, several threads of logic that he wants to pull together but the truth of it seems horrific, entirely out of this world. Adagium, the bogeyman, accursed, a monster that mothers tell their children about to get them to eat their greens, and here he is. ]
You saw that, right? The armiger. His armiger. [ He drew that sword out like it was nothing. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...