nascere | LET'S PLAY {open post}

LET'S PLAY {open post}

[ open. texts, messages, rp prompts and starters. gen & nsfw. ]

[ It's a stupid thing to say the first time you can see someone, but it's the only thing he can think of outside of the crushing disappointment and realization that it didn't work. It's just more proof that maybe, probably, he'll never be back to the man that Noctis had loved so fiercely. Worse: despite being certain that he'll never be that man again, he still finds it remarkably, infuriatingly easy to love Noctis. Noctis, who quite clearly shares those feelings, judging by the way he's willing to bend over backwards to accommodate literally anything Ignis wants.

He endures the poking and prodding from doctors and soon enough, it's...just the two of them in there and Ignis feels woefully inadequate once more. It's not a pleasant feeling, for all that it's becoming familiar. Slowly, he rises up from the bed, tucking the ridiculous hospital gown around himself so he doesn't scandalize the king or anyone who comes in here and heads for the windows. The curtains are pushed open bit by bit until the light floods into the room and Ignis is swallowed by it. He squints against the fierceness of it, like it'd never gone out in the first place and then presses his forehead against the cool window, breathing. You looked devastated, Noctis says and Ignis can hear him come closer. He allows himself an extra second of regret and then turns, not realizing that the flood of light would make Noctis practically glow. Handsome is an inadequate word when he's haloed in the light he brought back to the world. ]

It worked; I can see you. I had only hoped -- foolishly, I suppose, that I would just...remember.

[ In this light, Ignis is stunningly gorgeous. The light catches in his hair, sets off his eyes, and Noctis forgets to breathe. You'd think he'd be used to this by now, considering that he's not the half that only just recently regained his eyesight. But every time he sets eyes on him seems like the first time; he even looks good in that flimsy hospital gown, which really is saying something when they're deeply unflattering on just about everyone in existence, himself included.

He takes a step closer, thinking of Ignis' old apartment, remembering how he'd noticed that the man had lived cleanly in one half of it, as if expecting another to come in and fill the other half. The mind forgets, he supposes, but the heart remembers. Gladio tells him that too much hope is dangerous, that it would damage the both of them before they even have time to heal, but Noctis holds on to it anyway. It's his own little secret. ]

It's going to take some time. What Ardyn did to you -- [ He cannot help the anger, twisting sharp and hot in his gut. What Ardyn did to him cannot be healed by the crystal, no matter how much it's entreated. For that, Noctis would gladly kill Ardyn a hundred, thousand more times. He reaches out now, puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ] -- will take awhile, but one day. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next week, or month, or year. One day you'll remember, not for my sake, but your own.

[ And it will not change what he feels for Ignis, the love he offers to him freely, to be taken of his own accord and not by Noctis' intentions. Even if Ignis never loves him again, Noctis is content to continue on in silence. He smiles, just a little, head tilted in the direction of streaming daylight, unable to help a sense of happiness. A promise fulfilled, beloved. He's brought the light back to you. ]

It's the first time you've seen the light proper in years, isn't it? I think that's cause for celebration.

[ Distantly he wonders if this other him, this earlier Ignis ever felt so damnably insignificant. Lacking. He can't imagine it was easy losing his vision, but from what he'd gleaned from the others he hadn't let that stop him. He learned how to fight, learned how to listen and adapt because he wanted to be useful.

( Not so different from you now, Prompto had pointed out cheerfully, only for his smile to freeze in place and then fade like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to say that, if pointing out Ignis' failings was okay. )

Prompto was right about it, at the very least. The parts and pieces that made up Ignis, the older Ignis, were still echoed in him. He could tell in the way that he still preferred the same clothing, the same food, still drank Ebony like a man parched in the desert. He still spoke the same, with the same inflections and tone as the videos that Prompto had taken. Despite everything, he was still markedly similar to the old Ignis.

Most frustratingly, though: he still loved Noctis. Differently than he had back then, probably, but it was so damnably easy to love him, especially when he was talking Ignis through all of this, soft and sweet and considerate, resting a hand on his shoulder. Ignis wants to think badly of it -- wants to lash out and tell Noctis that he doesn't have the right to touch him like they're familiar, but those little flares of impotent anger are easy enough to swallow down into nothingness. Instead, he presses fingertips to the window and looks out over the city. ]

It does't look that different.

[ His finger drags over where the school Noctis had gone to for years is, and then traces a path to the penthouse where he'd lived, not knowing why either point is familiar, just knowing that those buildings are something he should remember. ]

Gladiolus said that it was lucky I lost my sight when I did. That at least I'd be able to remember everything as it was before the ten years where you were gone.

[ Is it a trick of illusion, when Ignis traces his finger over Noctis' school, or the line right down where it now rests over the penthouse? Does he remember this, where they once inhabited relatively mundane lives -- Noctis a lonely student save for Ignis and Prompto, the only two who saw him for who he really was, who loved him anyway.

He draws his hand back, looking at him more than the city, so rapidly rebuilding, working to go back to normal. The trains, he thinks, should be up and running today. But what matters is that Ignis remembers what it was before, how things were in their home, the track from school to home. ]

You always came to pick me up when I needed you, no matter how packed your schedule was. You'd bring pastries too, all the time. [ He doesn't continue after that, realising how much he's missed that one little pleasure, how it has been so much a part of him. Ignis, doing everything he could to replicate that one pastry Noctis had tried before in Tenebrae. He never quite got it right, but his creations had all been delicious, and Noctis took to them with great aplomb all the same.

Now, even the world's best chefs are struggling to replicate Ignis for their king's palate. It's not the same. ]

Was Gladio right?

[ There's something important about those areas, but he doesn't know what, or why. The sun makes his eyes ache, staring out at a city of glass and shiny metal, but it's a good sort of pain. It's similar to when he pushed himself too hard training, or fighting, but knew he was successful. He could work through this. After so long in the dark he's not willing to look away; it's harder to look at Noctis, anyway, with as brightly as he burns in the sun. ]

I could never get the filling or the dough right.

[ It's a barely there murmur, his words fogging up the glass in front of him as he watches the city below. It's ragged, of course - ten years means that there are parts still under construction that will likely be for years. But he never had to see how it looked when everything went well and truly to shit. He was saved that sight, somehow. The others all had to live with it, seeing the ghost towns that the lack of a sun wrought. ]

I don't know. I might not even remember it if I had seen how bad things got.

[ Being melancholy isn't helping either of them, though. Ignis turns and looks at him again, drinking in the sight of his king, stopping at the electric blue of his eyes. Just like looking into the sun. Too long and it hurts. He smiles thinly, and steps away. ]

As much fun as it is having a conversation in what's effectively a slip, I would like to get changed into something a little more-- covering, if possible.

I liked it, all the same.

[ He never got to tell Ignis that, and he hopes it's not too late. How he had sometimes taken Ignis for granted, believed that those days would last forever -- that Ignis would be by his side, loyal and faithful, loving and more devoted than Noctis deserves. It's bittersweet, how he never told Ignis how much he loved him with all his heart; that one time didn't seem adequate, and now he can't say it without it being a noose around this man's neck.

So he keeps it to himself, and looks out at the recovering city, remembering how bad it was when they returned. So much of it gone, crumbled, but within the ashes hope still thrives, and now, months on, it looks one hell of a lot better. They still have a long way to go, but progress is progress.

He nods, heading back towards the door to give him the privacy he needs, although really, he definitely doesn't mind the slip and all. He pauses then, just a little reluctant to leave. ]

Sure. Would you -- like to have lunch with me? You can say no.

Mm.

[ It's as noncommittal of an answer as he can manage. He hadn't meant to mention it anyway, but then he had and it wasn't as if he could just take it back. He feels ridiculous, truthfully, having this conversation like this, but blessedly Noctis starts to move toward the door.

Was he terribly private, back then? Did he care about changing in front of the others? Was he modest? It's weird to think about and not really know for sure, but Ignis makes his way to where his clothes are neatly set out for him and frowns a little at the color choices. They're good, he supposes; Cor did a good job taking him out to obtain replacements, but the flashes of blue are unexpected. He hasn't worn this before; hopefully it looks decent on him. He isn't certain, but he'd put money on a guess that he was at least a little vain.

He changes in the bathroom, already dreading waving off the doctors who will try to get him to linger in there and do an ungodly number of tests; he's fine. Noctis fixed his eyes and while his memory isn't fixed, he could feasibly use this time to leave. The thought is tempting, if it weren't an impossibility. Ignis finishes the buttons and smooths his fingers down the front of his shirt, easing out wrinkles that aren't even there.

When he comes back out, boots laced tightly up to his knees, he's wearing something similar to his older outfits, but there's a peek of blue at his cuffs, at the skull motif threaded through the collar. Ignis' fingers pluck at it a little anxiously and he debates the merits of just running instead of agreeing, but his body remembers what his mind doesn't and it's never said no to Noctis before. ]

Where were you thinking?

[ No, it's never said no before, which lends credence to Gladio's occasional assertions that Ignis spoils the prince (now king) to no discernible end. But it's still a relief all the same when he isn't rejected outright, and he tries not to stare too hard at the flashes of blue. That one is new, he notes; Ignis never used to favor blue, but then things change, and he decides not to draw attention to it. ]

You look nice.

[ He is gorgeous in fitted clothes, and his gaze lingers until he forces himself to look away. Ignis seems anxious, just a touch, fidgeting, and Noctis pauses. Honestly, he hadn't thought that far ahead -- he'd assumed Ignis would politely decline, but now that it's up in the air, he has to think quickly. ]

Nothing much. I was just thinking of paying a visit to an some place incognito. Turns out it's still standing.

[ He smiles crookedly. The diner's still running, an old-school place selling traditional donburi that Ignis had discovered. It's the farthest thing to bring royalty to, but Ignis brought him there anyway, this tiny little cozy place where no one knew where they were, and Noctis had loved the food, the ambience, the friendliness of the young owner who'd just inherited the place from his father, and had taken so much pride in the age-old recipe passed down through the ages. The meat was rich, tender, and the rice with a singular fragrance that he finds himself craving.

More importantly, Noctis had leaned forward, kissed him here for the first time, tasted the last vestiges of sweet sauce from his lips. They had walked back to his penthouse after that, and Noctis had held his hand; he had never been happier.

He doesn't tell him that. ] Are you in the mood for sliced beef rice?

[ Ignis was never very fidgety, but that was mostly because he'd always been very careful with how he presented himself. People didn't take you as seriously when you were younger and if you had nervous habits or tics, they were even less likely to give you time of day or their ear. He'd paired down each and every single bad habit until he was just as pristine in his mannerisms as he was in his presentation.

Now, however, he doesn't have those years of experience under his belt, or the memory behind them. He adjusts his collar again, bangs sweeping into his eyes and that's frustrating too. Maybe it would be easier to do his hair when he could see what he was looking at; he'd tried a few times to recreate whatever it was that he did before and had a rough approximation of it, but it'd taken ages. With the work Noctis did to fix his eyes, he hasn't done his hair up at all; it falls in his eyes, obnoxious, but long enough to tuck some behind his ear. ]

Did I like that before?

[ Do you still like the same foods you used to when you were a different person? Ignis wants to take it back as soon as he asks, not sure if it was a favorite meal or something else but it's too late. He moves for the door and catches sight of himself in front of the mirror, jarred. ]

Thank y- oh.

[ It hadn't really...occurred to him to look at what kind of person he was. His memories of himself were shattered and jagged, like looking into a mirror that was broken into a thousand pieces. He could remember bits, like that he had green eyes, sandy-blonde hair, but that didn't mean much. Now, he takes full stock of himself and adjusts his buttons again, smoothing everything down. The scarring is bad but not utterly horrendous; he touches his fingers to it cautiously and understands why he wore those larger glasses. There's another scar on his lip, but otherwise, he supposes he's attractive enough.

There's another pair of glasses outside the ones he used to wear and after a beat of hesitation, he takes them; they're likely prescription, as opposed to the others which were probably to hide the scarring. When he puts these on, though, he frowns, looking around the room. ]

There's barely a difference.

Edited 2017-12-29 05:06 (UTC)

[ Did he like that before, he asks, and it feels like a trap. What does he say that won't seem like an expectation? Tastes change, people can change, and Noctis is the last to want him to conform to what he's been before. This Ignis is different in little ways, and sometimes conversations feel like an emotional landmine, even though Noctis wouldn't trade that for anything in the world, because the alternative is no Ignis at all. ]

I think so. [ He finally says, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth. ] You were the one who brought me there.

[ Would he take it well? Would he decline it? Noctis finds that he doesn't have good a read on Ignis as he used to; but that's to be expected. They're still recalibrating, finding their footing with each other. He observes how Ignis takes himself in quietly, wonders if this is the first time he's truly taken a look at himself. Glasses, now; and those glasses send a bittersweet pang through his heart.

His Ignis, he thinks, and he misses him more than ever. ]

You probably won't need them anymore. [ He murmurs, because the crystal probably fixed his eyesight. Another small, fundamental charge, another departure from the way Ignis used to be. Maybe that's not a bad thing, maybe that's just what they need. ]

[ He thinks so. There's no way to know for sure but maybe he'll eat it and remember. At the very least it isn't as if there are a ton of foods he's discovered he doesn't like. For the most part, Ignis seemed to be a fairly non-picky eater, which is convenient now. Knowing that he brought Noctis there makes him hesitate. Brought him there after school, when he was ferrying Noctis around as his Chamberlain? Or brought him there later, when they were seeing each other and needed a break from being the Prince and his keeper, instead wanting to be lovers on a date?

It doesn't matter, not really. Nothing changes if it went either way; they still need to eat and Ignis still doesn't know how to say no to him, doesn't want to say no to him. ]

No, I know. They barely change my vision. [ It's odd to put them on and realize that they barely do anything to distort the world, though. He'd worn them...what, just to fix eye sight that wasn't nearly bad enough to justify it? He lifts and lowers the glasses a few more times in disbelief at his former self and then sighs, folding the glasses back. The newer ones are slid into a pocket instead, since he figures it's a little ridiculous to wear sunglasses inside when he can see. ]

Do we need to alert your entourage to warn them the King intends to go sight seeing?

No.

[ Noctis says quickly, a hand on the doorhandle. The last thing he wants is to make a big deal out of this. Noctis is tired of royal traditions and etiquette, which somehow hadn't managed to die -- but he supposes that traditions like these help people feel better, are as much a coping mechanism as it is anything else, and he doesn't have the heart to take it away from them.

But it does make him feel like a bird in a cage sometimes, gilded and worth more than he really is, which is just ridiculous. ] It's getting to be a pain.

[ He confides, shaking his head. ] All that bowing and 'Your Majestys', I'm starting to think that my first name ought to be 'Your'.

[ A silly little joke, but Noctis is getting tired of the constant tension, the melancholy that lingers in the background. He can put aside his own selfish needs and tend to Ignis' first, to make sure he's all right before anything else. After all, it's been a long, long time since he was last 20, a bratty, sheltered prince. Still, more than a little pleased that Ignis is clearly amenable to come with him, he adds. ] Ready to go?

[ It's the King asking him to go out on an excursion without telling anyone. Logically, that's...not how this should go. Either he'd be the one to tell someone or they'd tell someone on their way out to escort them, right? He has a feeling this isn't something normal they do, but then, he has no idea.

Judging by the way Noctis doesn't want to involve anyone, he thinks it's a fair bet that this isn't allowed. He's not part of the Crownsguard though, is he. Not technically.

Ignis hesitates a moment more and then blows out a breath, agreeing wordlessly. A few fingers through his bangs to straighten them from where they've gotten mussed already and then he follows Noctis out. Escaping the palace is laughably easy; he's not certain if it's because Noctis knows how best to avoid all of the safeguards meant to house him and keep him safe or if it's because security is laughably lax as they rest from the fight with the Empire. He'd double security in certain areas they pass and notes them, along with any other weak spots as they make their way out.

As it turns out, the restaurant is somewhere he'd like. He drinks in the sight of the city around them, slowing at certain shops when colors catch his eye, or in one shop where there's a cat lounging in the sunlight. It makes him hesitate for reasons he doesn't quite get, but they make their way to the restaurant and are seated, handed menus. He looks it over idly, not quite sure if everything sounds good because he's somehow familiar and doesn't recall or just hungry. ]

I'll -- whatever you get, I will.

[ As it turns out, Noctis happens to know just what he likes -- he remembers his order from a lifetime ago, a beef bowl with a side of salad (much to Noctis' distaste for the latter), and he orders the same for them both the second time around. He tries not to think about the few times they have paid visits to this place, essentially unchanged.

The young owner comes out to chat with them, friendly as he had been, and Noctis effortlessly keeps up his end of that particular conversation. If the owner's sensed that Ignis is different -- or having an off day, he doesn't mention it. After all, they did use to be quite friendly.

All throughout the trip here, however, Noctis has paid special attention to when he slows down, registering his interest at certain shops, especially the one with the cat, and he wonders if he remembers how fond he is of these shops -- he's picked up on it by the third shop he'd slowed down at, and makes a note to ask if he wants to go in on their way home. ]

What about dessert? They've got excellent cheesecake. [ Noctis is terribly fond of it, up until one day Ignis decided to make it because the man's always had a complicated relationship with the food Noctis likes that weren't made by him, and Noctis had switched to Ignis' creations ever since. ]

[ Unsurprisingly, the food is delicious. He's tasted good food before, of course. He can follow orders and instructions exceptionally well and all cooking and baking are made of are a list of orders, performed one by one. This, however, tastes even better than normal. Perhaps it's because everything feels good right now, being able to see things like the glint of his cufflinks, the decorative lines on the plates they're eating off of. He notes the colors of the salad, the deep greens, purple veins, the color and life of all of it.

When he looks back at Noctis, he's endlessly grateful he can school his face to hide his emotions because he's relatively certain that he'd have raw awe written across it. It's one thing to know that he's the king, and that Ignis had served him faithfully for years despite other options, offers, most likely. It's another to see the proof of him written in the city around them, in the lettuce they're eating, fresh as you like, in the way the city comes alive around them.

A car horn honks. The air conditioning unit above them creaks and groans with its age; it hasn't been replaced, from the looks of it, but despite ten years it still seems to function. All of the shops, all of the buildings, all of the people living normal, boring, mundane lives again and none of them know that their savior is sitting in a tiny shop with room for eight people, maybe, talking about cheesecake.

What would they have done if Noctis weren't a good man? It's not a pleasant thought to consider. Noctis isn't, though; he's good through and through, smiles quickly and easily and asks Ignis, a man he barely knows, if he wants dessert. It's absurd.

( This is why he loved you with everything he was. ) ]

I'm not certain I could finish an entire one but I could take a taste yours if you intend on getting it.

[ It doesn't matter to him either way; the accolades are tiring, and in Noctis' mind all he did was to honor the sacrifices of all who had fallen for his sake. He loves too much too deeply to abandon the world to darkness, and most especially the ones who had walked beside him, Gladio and Prompto and Ignis, who put their faith in him. He cannot fail them; that's all there is to it.

To see his people happy, to serve them as they pledge their loyalty to him -- that's everything that he needs to do. They've suffered enough in ten years of darkness, of daemons that have overrun everything, where fear had been the order of the day. There is now hope and a future, aid from the coffers that Regis had so shrewdly hidden away from the Empire flowing into the everyday citizenry.

Noctis walks among them, unknown and all the happier for it -- gives him a better, more unpolished look into their lives, ensures that he knows exactly what to fix up when he returns to the Citadel. He does the best he can, he does as Ignis had taught, so long ago. It feels good, spending lunch with him here, the bliss and contentment of the blessedly mundane, and Noctis can't imagine anywhere else he'd rather be. They'd fought for a chance for this, a shot at normalcy, and Noctis will never take this for granted again.

So he smiles at the man opposite him like he's the only one that matters (which is true, he is), loving him with every ounce of his being. He orders cheesecake and it's quickly delivered to their table, two forks thoughtfully provided. He carves out some for himself, takes a bite of the deliciously decadent dessert, and decides that Ignis' tastes just slightly better. ]

Mm. Try it. [ Years ago, Noctis would have fed him from his fork. Today, he restrains himself from it. ]

[ That's the beauty of it, really. Their king and savior walks among them like it doesn't even matter. Ardyn hadn't cared about the world. He'd been spiteful, wanting to spurn the crystal and the Astrals out of misplaced anger that had nowhere else to go. He'd manipulated people like dolls just to see what they would do in some circumstances, and to further his goals in others. He didn't have allies, he had pawns, or underlings, or people who he had evidently wiped the minds of, just to see what would happen.

What would happen if he were sitting across from Ardyn as king right now? If Ardyn had brought back the light, taken him to some hole in the wall restaurant and offered him cheesecake? The thought is almost too bizarre to entertain so Ignis takes his fork and delicately slices a portion off of it, eating it just as carefully. It is good. They live in a world where it's possible to buy milk and sugar and cream, now, where you can eat cheesecake on a whim. It's sometimes overwhelming to realize.

Ardyn would have been a poor choice. Ignis knows that. But he isn't prepared for the realization that there is no better choice than Noctis. A man that's been through the worst of everything and come back out alive and well and cares enough to make it better. ]

I should earn my keep here. More than I am already.

[ Once it's out of his mouth, there's no taking it back. Ignis takes another slice of cheesecake and lets it linger on his tongue before continuing. ]

I may not have all of his memories but I can be useful.

[ That there is increased availability of essential commodities had been one of the top priorities -- they had opened up transportation pathways and roads, because rebuilding cannot happen if your people are parched and starving. Food and water had been first, followed by power. Everything else had come after.

Now, they are steadily building on these inroads and pathways, with the Citadel rendering aid everywhere they can. They have come a long way, even if they have further to go. This afternoon, however, Noctis finds spending time with him a most precious gift -- there is something about watching Ignis eat cheesecake that is impossibly alluring, his enjoyment of food something so surprisingly addicting that he can't tear his eyes away.

Does he remember, he wonders? Is he aware of all the memories within these walls, the evenings they'd shared here as lovers and equals? He can't bring himself to ask, and it's just as well, because Ignis' next words surprise him. ]

Of course. [ It's quick, but Ignis has always been this way, driven and hyper-competent, efficient and bright and hardworking to a fault. ] What do you have in mind?

[ The cheesecake is good. Delightfully so, soft and sweet and the crust on the bottom is the perfect texture. Ignis measures all of it as if he has the grounds to criticize food he can't ever recall eating in his past and then steals another bite while he considers. What could he do? What good is he like this, in all actuality?

He can fight, of course; Ardyn made certain of that during the period of long dark where Ignis had been made to fight the very people he had taken an oath to protect. He'd been trained a thousand different ways in fighting by Gladiolus, by other members of the Crownsguard back before everything went to complete and utter shit. He had value in that, at the very least but what good was he when fighting wasn't something directly necessary these days?

While he recalls bits and pieces of his former job as adviser he knows that he won't recall enough to be directly helpful in a way that Noctis needs. Now that he can see, however, he knows he can figure something out. He is nothing if not determined. ]

Perhaps not all of the same tasks as before, unfortunately. I can attend Crownsguard training with Prompto; it may be a rehash of items I'm already aware of but a refresh wouldn't hurt. And I -- well. My mind wasn't damaged, just my memories, as far as I can tell. I can still organize things and provide structure.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

LET'S PLAY {open post}

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*an entire cheesecake not one jfc self

SMOOCHES U

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