Says the man who spent ten years trapped in a crystal.
[ It's not a retort, but it is an acknowledgement of what Noctis has been through. Ardyn told him that he was the one trapped in the crystal, that the Gods themselves had willed it until he could bring back the dawn by destroying the one who was responsible for all of this. It makes sense, in an awful way. Ardyn couldn't twist him into something wrong without wiping his memories and twisting the truth into something familiar. Maybe the memory wipes didn't take as well as he wanted, given what he's recalling bit by bit.
Maybe he's not as weak as he fears. That has to indicate some level of strength, regardless of the cause.
Noctis' hand settles on top of his a moment later, jarring him from his own thoughts. He wants to pull away, wants to tell him that he doesn't remember enough to merit touches like that, ones that are soft and familiar and affectionate in a way that he knows he once probably loved. He's not going to stay here, though. There's something tying them together; instinct, or residual memories, whatever it is he can't imagine telling Noctis to leave and forgetting about him. It's as unconscionable as hurting him right now is. ]
I want the freedom to leave if I need to. At any point.
[ He needs the ability to run away. He needs an escape route, something that he can run to (justification for if he needs to run away from) if it all goes to shit like he's half-certain it will. Gently, his hand slides out from under Noctis'. ]
no subject
[ It's not a retort, but it is an acknowledgement of what Noctis has been through. Ardyn told him that he was the one trapped in the crystal, that the Gods themselves had willed it until he could bring back the dawn by destroying the one who was responsible for all of this. It makes sense, in an awful way. Ardyn couldn't twist him into something wrong without wiping his memories and twisting the truth into something familiar. Maybe the memory wipes didn't take as well as he wanted, given what he's recalling bit by bit.
Maybe he's not as weak as he fears. That has to indicate some level of strength, regardless of the cause.
Noctis' hand settles on top of his a moment later, jarring him from his own thoughts. He wants to pull away, wants to tell him that he doesn't remember enough to merit touches like that, ones that are soft and familiar and affectionate in a way that he knows he once probably loved. He's not going to stay here, though. There's something tying them together; instinct, or residual memories, whatever it is he can't imagine telling Noctis to leave and forgetting about him. It's as unconscionable as hurting him right now is. ]
I want the freedom to leave if I need to. At any point.
[ He needs the ability to run away. He needs an escape route, something that he can run to (justification for if he needs to run away from) if it all goes to shit like he's half-certain it will. Gently, his hand slides out from under Noctis'. ]
And to know that you won't chase me if I do.