[ noctis is tired, real tired. he doesn't remember the last time he actually had some time to himself, his own frustration simmering under the surface. but things have to get done, deadlines have to be met, and he doesn't have time to just sit and stew. and he can't, either, he's the prince, right?
being a prince means dealing with things, even with someone who he had missed so sorely, his childhood friend and the person he had quietly pined for, dealing with his clear disappointment at being home, dealing with the fact that he'd found love and some measure of happiness away from him. that's okay, maybe, it has to be.
maybe it's not.
so he's sullen and simmering, nursing the wounds he refuses to let others see, prickly and distant -- especially with ignis, who had made him so unspeakably angry -- and if he's honest with himself, he had been jealous of whoever had made the man so happy in altissia that he would simply extend his working stint there and --
-- so when ignis sounds like he would rather be anywhere but here, noctis bristles. ]
no subject
being a prince means dealing with things, even with someone who he had missed so sorely, his childhood friend and the person he had quietly pined for, dealing with his clear disappointment at being home, dealing with the fact that he'd found love and some measure of happiness away from him. that's okay, maybe, it has to be.
maybe it's not.
so he's sullen and simmering, nursing the wounds he refuses to let others see, prickly and distant -- especially with ignis, who had made him so unspeakably angry -- and if he's honest with himself, he had been jealous of whoever had made the man so happy in altissia that he would simply extend his working stint there and --
-- so when ignis sounds like he would rather be anywhere but here, noctis bristles. ]
What is it now?