[The space left between them does not go unnoticed. It feels strange, foreign; a space that doesn't belong between two people who have been close since childhood, separated only by a few difficult years where the pressures of growing up and meeting expectations had weighed upon the both of them.
He doesn't turn towards Noctis' voice, only leans forward in turn. If he could see anything at all, he'd like to think that he was looking out at the ocean beyond Altissia's famed walls of water, but for the present, while he's wounded, the salt smell of the sea air will have to do.]
Good to know that you're up and about. We were worried, while you slept.
instead of casting fire/lightning/ice magic, you cast shrimp/meat/egg spells
[A lie. A more truthful response would be 'I'm feeling better' because physically he is - that he's up and walking is proof of that. But his whole body still aches, and he has a feeling he couldn't handle more than a flight or two of stairs just now. And mentally? Well... he's up and walking.
He takes a long breath in and lets it out just as slow before risking another sidelong look. Noctis knows he ought to say something more - ask after Ignis' own health, tease him, talk about the fine weather, anything - but the words don't come, and he curls his fingers into fists, nails digging into his palms.]
[None of them are fine, but it means something that Noct is trying. Ignis, too, is doing his best to keep himself together, to be as fine and level-headed as he can make himself.
He's angry, and he is in mourning, much like the prince himself, but lashing out will do little to help any of them.]
As 'fine' as can be expected, at least.
[Ignis takes the liberties of clarifying that much for him. He understands, even without being able to see the weary expression on Noct's face.]
I realize Altissia has-- not been what any of us hoped it might be.
[ Noctis can't help the bitter snort of a laugh that escapes at that.]
Understatement of the year.
[His voice carries a particular edge that hadn't been there since the day they learned of Insomnia's fall. Rough with that burning anger and grief - but there is a quaver too. A hint at the river of fear beneath, too deep now for the prince to bury and try to ignore despite the years he's spent building a damn against it.]
[A mirthless chuckle follows, though it's rather brief. He had been stating the obvious, of course, speaking only to fill the awkward silence. It felt out of place between the two of them.]
If there is aught I can do for you, you need only say the word.
[Offering Noctis his support is all he has at the moment. In doing so, he can almost pretend that he is well, unaffected by the assault on the city.]
[Noctis' breath catches for a moment. Even with all that has happened, even with his injury, Ignis still shows nothing but support for him. He swallows and nods, without even thinking that Ignis can't see such things right now. (But he'll get better - injuries like that take time, right?) There is little he can think of just now that would help at all, but one thing comes to mind.]
... don't die on me.
[Don't leave me, too. That's what Ignis can do for him.]
[Ignis goes still, his breath catching in his throat.
Well. He would certainly try his best. He exhales slowly, bowing his head, though the only thing it changes is his faint sense of where the light is coming from.]
Anything for you, Highness.
[He doesn't rightly know if he can promise that one, but gods, he would do his best not to fail his prince, no matter the request.]
[Anything... As long as it isn't everything, Noct can live with that. He manages after a moment to look at his oldest friend once more.]
Ignis...
[Any more words don't come, stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth. A moment later finds Noctis scooting over to close that few inch chasm, leaning his shoulder against Ignis'.]
[For a moment, he says nothing more, but he welcomes to contact. It's the closest they've been since before Altissia, before everything went wrong. As strange and hollow as this moment itself feels, as seemingly dark as his world has become, this one thing feels right: he and his closest friend, shoulder to shoulder, quietly drawing strength from one another whether they realize it or not.
He reaches, slowly and carefully, to take Noct's hand, closing his own over it tightly, offering a squeeze of reassurance.]
Things may seem exceptionally dark at the moment.
[They were kind words, really, too gentle for what the situation was, but he could not help being delicate.]
But I will ever remain at your side, Noct, as will we all. I will keep my promise to you as best I can.
[Noct's fists remained clenched until he feels Ignis' hand, and only then does he relax it a little at the reassuring squeeze, turning it a little to do his best to at least put the tips of his fingers around Ignis'. He almost calls Ignis out on yet another understatement, but the promise silences him, and he nods again, making a small noise of acknowledgement.]
I - I expect no less. ... I won't let you down, either.
[He tries for a moment to sound kingly and firm, but he falls short. It is just as well, though. This isn't a promise of a retainer and a king but of a friend to a friend.]
[Except that it was. He was not the instigator of events, but he's no fool. Lunafreya did not call forth the Hydrean on a whim, nor has Niflheim been killing the Astrals just for show. Of course, none of this is going to deter him from his quest - if anything, in a way his resolve is only strengthened as far as exacting vengeance on the Empire is concerned - but still... the price for Leviathan's power and ... and for the ring... it is far higher than he could have imagined.
He thinks, now, about his duties. About what lies before him. He thinks about the ring and how heavy it is. Even tucked carefully in a pocket, separated from his skin by fabric, he can still feel it, burning with a cold fire. Had it been so heavy for Luna, too, even without wearing it?
Despite the grimness of his thoughts, however, at the assurance he manages a small twitch of the lips that could be considered a smile, if only for a moment. ... not that Ignis can see it, but perhaps he can imagine it, with the small grateful 'mm' noise Noct makes.
He's quiet again for a spell, eyes caught by a small bird landing briefly on the terrace and pecking at the cracks between bricks, seeking food. It finds none so it keeps hopping, oblivious to the two humans nearby for the moment. It is only now that he feels able (safe, perhaps? knowing now that nothing about Ignis' feelings has changed) to begin to ask other things preying on his mind. (Awful as it sounds, it's easier to think about what happened to Ignis than what happened to... to Luna).]
... what ... did the healers say about - about your injury?
[It's a noise he's heard countless times over the years, and even without his sight, the image of Noct's faint smile conjures itself for him, vivid. For friends that had been together as long as they had, there were some things that didn't need to be seen to be understood.
The silence weighs heavy for a moment, and even after Noct's question breaks it, Ignis waits a few seconds longer before choosing his words, listening to the bird's eager pecking as he considers how best to answer.]
They've been careful not to say much.
[They had realized early on that he was stubborn, that he would not accept bad news for what it was, that he would hold out hope as long as possible. It made him a difficult patient, he knew.]
... they have done all they can for now. For anything else, time will tell. The wounds will close soon enough.
[He would be able to open his eyes without pain then, he was sure. They would clear, and the darkness would be lifted.]
Edited 2016-12-24 21:23 (UTC)
there's a flavor of noodles for all occasions so i mean it works
['They have done all they can' is not a phrase that fills him with absolute confidence, but nor does it give him reason to despair. 'All they can' is what they did for him after the daemon attack when he was eight, and though it took months, eventually he was able to walk and run and everything again. He'd always have the scars, of course, and they still ache sometimes when he's used a bit too much magic. But at worst they serve only as a reminder of what he survived.
... of course... he'd had the Oracle's help in healing him, then, but that - even without that, if he had been able to go from bed ridden to where he was now, then surely given enough time, Ignis will recover too. Just with some new scars.
He lets his breath out in a bit of a huff, not realizing he'd been holding it through the answer.]
The scars'll look pretty badass when you're done healing.
[Gladio'll be jealous - his facial scars are pretty sick (and he still hasn't told any of them how he got the second one) but they've got nothing on what Ignis' will look like!]
[He chuckles, low and humorless, but appreciative of the effort Noct is making.]
Is that what you think?
[A faint smile quirks at one side of his mouth, and he turns his head towards his royal charge-- but not quite enough, looking past him instead, unfocused.]
Ruggedly handsome, then? I suppose I could grow into that.
THEY SAID I COULD BE ANYTHING WHEN I GREW UP so I became a noodle
[Something twists in Noctis' chest, seeing the way Ignis doesn't quite manage to look at him, and he hopes all the more fiercely this is temporary. The faint smile helps, though, as does the chuckle.]
Yeah! [he swallows] Maybe let yourself grow a bit of stubble, too, to enhance it. [... has he ever seen Ignis with even a 5 o'clock shadow?]
I'm not entirely certain that would suit me quite as well as it suits our dear Gladiolus.
[Whether it would or wouldn't, however, wasn't the point. What mattered most was that Noct was speaking to him for the first time in days, conversing rather than avoiding. That in itself was enough to make him feel better than he had been, a welcome distraction from the thoughts he'd been turning over and over in his head: about Accordo, about the Empire, about the Oracle, and about his own condition.]
But perhaps I'll take your word for it. I ought to be more open to change.
i now have a job as a model for the queens of noodles: clamp
You've already come a long way with your hair. [Sorry bro, how you used to style it - or rather not style it - when he was still in school was pretty lame.] Now it's time to begin a new hair adventure.
[Just don't ask him to go with you on the beard adventures. He tried a bit after graduating! It just... yeah. Maybe when he's older he'll live up to his dad's beard, but-
But thinking about it takes the teasing wind out of his sails, and the short-lived teasing smile fades. It is hard to remain distracted from, well, everything for long, and thinking of his dad's beard leads to remembering one blurry time as a child where he'd been sitting with his father in the Regalia and playing with his beard as little kids tend to do, running his fingers over the scratchy stiff hair.
His fingers tighten again, and he almost subconsciously leans against Ignis a little more.]
[Ignis frowns, leaning back just enough that their shoulders press together, his hand still closed over Noct's, never having reclaimed it after his earlier display of support, solidarity.
He did not need to ask what was wrong. He knew that the answer was 'everything.' It was all too much, too quickly, and Noctis was prepared for none of it. None of them were, not like this.
He squeezes Noct's hand against before carefully releasing it, letting his hand come to rest against his own knee.]
[He wishes Ignis hadn't let his hand go, and he wishes Ignis had ignored his slip and returned the teasing in kind or anything really but acknowledge the weight of everything like that. But it's too late and he digs his fingernails into the wood of the bench as his breath catches.
It is all so much and so heavy, and he doesn't know how he is going to carry everything on his shoulders. Luna had carried everything - she had always carried so much more than he realized until far too late to help her. And his father had, too, but never once had he seen his old man falter. He thinks of the last words the king had said to him. 'Stand tall, my son.' And he wonders how on earth he is going to manage that when he can't even bring himself to put on the ring Luna had carried so long for him.
And here he is, leaning on a friend who is already carrying more than enough of his own overwhelming weights instead of trying to do just that.
Noct takes a deep breath and lets it out, trying to keep it together. He's less than successful, as his breath catches again, and he feels that burning pressure behind his eyes. That at least he is successful in holding back, but his breathing remains shaky and uneven.]
[A sentiment like that is really not helping Noctis' attempt not to cry. Again. He's done practically nothing besides that and sleep since...
His breath hitches, and he recalls suddenly way back in that very first tomb, still reeling over the news of what happened in Insomnia, when he'd bit out at Cor, 'King of what?' Even as recently as the moment Leviathan whorled forth, he had an answer for that, but now it slips through the cracks in his mind, and once again he wonders, 'King of what?'
He's been told time and again that he is the Chosen King - King of the Stone, Gentiana called him, and other things - that he'll purge the land of darkness. But how can he do that like this? How can he when he can't even find the courage to put on his father's ring? When he can't even save those nearest and dearest to him? How can he fulfill such a destiny when he couldn't even manage the promise he made to Luna when they were children? 'When the time comes, I'll save you.'
And with Ignis... Friendship or not, he should have been able to, should have --
Noct's shoulders tremble as he continues to fight the losing battle, and one tear makes its way past his crumbling defenses.]
I -- I d-don't deserve -
[that friendship, that love, all this sacrifice
certainly not this kindness from someone who must hurt even more than he. At least Noct is whole of body - if anything, he's more powerful than before (not that he ever wants to call upon Leviathan if he can at all avoid it. Not after... this).]
[After managing a nod, Noctis doesn't try to say anything more for a while - though he isn't silent. His breathing remains harsh and unsteady, hitching and punctuated by occasional sniffs as he continues to fight against the tears that make their way gradually past his closed eyelids all the same.
Ignis is right, of course (he always is). Deserving doesn't really factor into it, in the end, nor does fairness. In a way, he's never truly deserved most of what he's been given in his life - he was simply born into it, and he can no more help being one hundred and fourteenth in the Lucis Caelum line than Luna could being born into that of Nox Fleuret. Or Gladio into the Amiticia family. Truly, of the people dearest to him, only Prompto has really ever had an opportunity to choose his own destiny from the start. Even Ignis had his calling chosen for him in a way, as a trade for his education and upbringing. -- of course, they all could have chosen to turn aside at some point but...
But they had stood by him, and they believed in him and his destiny. And those who had died for him... they didn't do it simply so that he could live. They did it because of what the believed he could do with what they had given him. Take back the Crystal. Take back Lucis. Push back the Darkness and the Daemons that came from it. No one else could do these things. The question was... could he?
Probably. With half the Astrals having granted him their aid already and the formidable power of the arms of his ancestors, all that was left was to put on the Ring of the Lucii and claim the rest of their power and charge on ahead along the path laid out for him. And yet... perhaps the question really was... was he ready?
And the answer to that...
He manages to unclench one hand from its death grip on the edge of the bench, slipping it instead into his pocket, where his fingers brush against the ring. In that moment, he feels more than hears their whispers - the voices of his ancestors. Noct shivers, but he manages to force himself to take the ring out and look down at it, stark black against the pale skin of his palm. His hand shakes, but dropping it seems impossible. Their voices are louder this way, and he can almost make out the strongest ones - the kings and queens whose phantom weapons he holds.
Noctis hasn't told anyone about the ring, yet. He doesn't know if Gladio or Prompto or Ignis knows he has it. Maybe they do since it was in his hand when he woke or maybe he only received it through the dream, and they have no idea. He opens his mouth to tell Ignis now but words do not come. Instead, he sees for a moment sylleblossoms and Luna falling away from him and overwhelming darkness and the voices are too much, and he clenches his fist around the ring before shoving it back into his pocket. Only then does he find he can speak. ]
While... while I was asleep [ he begins and then has to stop because his voice cracks and he really needs to get ahold of himself and it's suddenly very important that he tells this to Ignis because maybe it'll help him be ready for what he knows he needs to do ] I ... [ but even thinking about the dream and the farewell is too much let alone voicing it, so he stops again ]
Luna... left me my father's ring. [ it isn't his father's ring anymore, but he thinks of it that way still because he isn't ready ]
[He doesn't sound quite as surprised as he ought. Some part of him, he supposes, knew that Lady Lunafreya still would have managed to do all she could to help Noctis fulfill his destiny, even in her final moments-- or perhaps it's only that part of him still feels so numb to all that's happened, so overwhelmed, that it doesn't quite register the way it should.]
The Ring of the Lucii. Now all that remains is the crystal.
[Some of his usual confidence is lacking. It sounds like such a simple thing, but the trials ahead of them-- none of it is to be taken lightly.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I WANT IT
[The space left between them does not go unnoticed. It feels strange, foreign; a space that doesn't belong between two people who have been close since childhood, separated only by a few difficult years where the pressures of growing up and meeting expectations had weighed upon the both of them.
He doesn't turn towards Noctis' voice, only leans forward in turn. If he could see anything at all, he'd like to think that he was looking out at the ocean beyond Altissia's famed walls of water, but for the present, while he's wounded, the salt smell of the sea air will have to do.]
Good to know that you're up and about. We were worried, while you slept.
instead of casting fire/lightning/ice magic, you cast shrimp/meat/egg spells
[A lie. A more truthful response would be 'I'm feeling better' because physically he is - that he's up and walking is proof of that. But his whole body still aches, and he has a feeling he couldn't handle more than a flight or two of stairs just now. And mentally? Well... he's up and walking.
He takes a long breath in and lets it out just as slow before risking another sidelong look. Noctis knows he ought to say something more - ask after Ignis' own health, tease him, talk about the fine weather, anything - but the words don't come, and he curls his fingers into fists, nails digging into his palms.]
truly you are a visionary
He's angry, and he is in mourning, much like the prince himself, but lashing out will do little to help any of them.]
As 'fine' as can be expected, at least.
[Ignis takes the liberties of clarifying that much for him. He understands, even without being able to see the weary expression on Noct's face.]
I realize Altissia has-- not been what any of us hoped it might be.
no subject
Understatement of the year.
[His voice carries a particular edge that hadn't been there since the day they learned of Insomnia's fall. Rough with that burning anger and grief - but there is a quaver too. A hint at the river of fear beneath, too deep now for the prince to bury and try to ignore despite the years he's spent building a damn against it.]
no subject
If there is aught I can do for you, you need only say the word.
[Offering Noctis his support is all he has at the moment. In doing so, he can almost pretend that he is well, unaffected by the assault on the city.]
no subject
... don't die on me.
[Don't leave me, too. That's what Ignis can do for him.]
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Well. He would certainly try his best. He exhales slowly, bowing his head, though the only thing it changes is his faint sense of where the light is coming from.]
Anything for you, Highness.
[He doesn't rightly know if he can promise that one, but gods, he would do his best not to fail his prince, no matter the request.]
no subject
Ignis...
[Any more words don't come, stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth. A moment later finds Noctis scooting over to close that few inch chasm, leaning his shoulder against Ignis'.]
no subject
He reaches, slowly and carefully, to take Noct's hand, closing his own over it tightly, offering a squeeze of reassurance.]
Things may seem exceptionally dark at the moment.
[They were kind words, really, too gentle for what the situation was, but he could not help being delicate.]
But I will ever remain at your side, Noct, as will we all. I will keep my promise to you as best I can.
no subject
I - I expect no less. ... I won't let you down, either.
[He tries for a moment to sound kingly and firm, but he falls short. It is just as well, though. This isn't a promise of a retainer and a king but of a friend to a friend.]
no subject
[Even when things were at their worst. Now, he feels it's more important than ever that he stress that.
What happened here was not Noct's fault by any stretch of the imagination.]
i... forgot to actually pick an icon last time BUT I GUESS KING OF NOODLES works somehow
He thinks, now, about his duties. About what lies before him. He thinks about the ring and how heavy it is. Even tucked carefully in a pocket, separated from his skin by fabric, he can still feel it, burning with a cold fire. Had it been so heavy for Luna, too, even without wearing it?
Despite the grimness of his thoughts, however, at the assurance he manages a small twitch of the lips that could be considered a smile, if only for a moment. ... not that Ignis can see it, but perhaps he can imagine it, with the small grateful 'mm' noise Noct makes.
He's quiet again for a spell, eyes caught by a small bird landing briefly on the terrace and pecking at the cracks between bricks, seeking food. It finds none so it keeps hopping, oblivious to the two humans nearby for the moment. It is only now that he feels able (safe, perhaps? knowing now that nothing about Ignis' feelings has changed) to begin to ask other things preying on his mind. (Awful as it sounds, it's easier to think about what happened to Ignis than what happened to... to Luna).]
... what ... did the healers say about - about your injury?
I'M COOL WITH IT TBH
The silence weighs heavy for a moment, and even after Noct's question breaks it, Ignis waits a few seconds longer before choosing his words, listening to the bird's eager pecking as he considers how best to answer.]
They've been careful not to say much.
[They had realized early on that he was stubborn, that he would not accept bad news for what it was, that he would hold out hope as long as possible. It made him a difficult patient, he knew.]
... they have done all they can for now. For anything else, time will tell. The wounds will close soon enough.
[He would be able to open his eyes without pain then, he was sure. They would clear, and the darkness would be lifted.]
there's a flavor of noodles for all occasions so i mean it works
... of course... he'd had the Oracle's help in healing him, then, but that - even without that, if he had been able to go from bed ridden to where he was now, then surely given enough time, Ignis will recover too. Just with some new scars.
He lets his breath out in a bit of a huff, not realizing he'd been holding it through the answer.]
The scars'll look pretty badass when you're done healing.
[Gladio'll be jealous - his facial scars are pretty sick (and he still hasn't told any of them how he got the second one) but they've got nothing on what Ignis' will look like!]
never stop being yourself, Snarky
Is that what you think?
[A faint smile quirks at one side of his mouth, and he turns his head towards his royal charge-- but not quite enough, looking past him instead, unfocused.]
Ruggedly handsome, then? I suppose I could grow into that.
THEY SAID I COULD BE ANYTHING WHEN I GREW UP so I became a noodle
Yeah! [he swallows] Maybe let yourself grow a bit of stubble, too, to enhance it. [... has he ever seen Ignis with even a 5 o'clock shadow?]
chokes
[Whether it would or wouldn't, however, wasn't the point. What mattered most was that Noct was speaking to him for the first time in days, conversing rather than avoiding. That in itself was enough to make him feel better than he had been, a welcome distraction from the thoughts he'd been turning over and over in his head: about Accordo, about the Empire, about the Oracle, and about his own condition.]
But perhaps I'll take your word for it. I ought to be more open to change.
i now have a job as a model for the queens of noodles: clamp
[Just don't ask him to go with you on the beard adventures. He tried a bit after graduating! It just... yeah. Maybe when he's older he'll live up to his dad's beard, but-
But thinking about it takes the teasing wind out of his sails, and the short-lived teasing smile fades. It is hard to remain distracted from, well, everything for long, and thinking of his dad's beard leads to remembering one blurry time as a child where he'd been sitting with his father in the Regalia and playing with his beard as little kids tend to do, running his fingers over the scratchy stiff hair.
His fingers tighten again, and he almost subconsciously leans against Ignis a little more.]
glorious
He did not need to ask what was wrong. He knew that the answer was 'everything.' It was all too much, too quickly, and Noctis was prepared for none of it. None of them were, not like this.
He squeezes Noct's hand against before carefully releasing it, letting his hand come to rest against his own knee.]
It's all too much. I know.
no subject
It is all so much and so heavy, and he doesn't know how he is going to carry everything on his shoulders. Luna had carried everything - she had always carried so much more than he realized until far too late to help her. And his father had, too, but never once had he seen his old man falter. He thinks of the last words the king had said to him. 'Stand tall, my son.' And he wonders how on earth he is going to manage that when he can't even bring himself to put on the ring Luna had carried so long for him.
And here he is, leaning on a friend who is already carrying more than enough of his own overwhelming weights instead of trying to do just that.
Noct takes a deep breath and lets it out, trying to keep it together. He's less than successful, as his breath catches again, and he feels that burning pressure behind his eyes. That at least he is successful in holding back, but his breathing remains shaky and uneven.]
I... I'm sorry.
[The words come out broken and tired and small.]
no subject
You need not apologize to me.
[But he understands why Noct might have to say the words to someone, just to get them out. He also understands why that person is him.]
You know I would do anything for you in the line of duty, but not only because you are my king. Our friendship means more to me than that.
no subject
His breath hitches, and he recalls suddenly way back in that very first tomb, still reeling over the news of what happened in Insomnia, when he'd bit out at Cor, 'King of what?' Even as recently as the moment Leviathan whorled forth, he had an answer for that, but now it slips through the cracks in his mind, and once again he wonders, 'King of what?'
He's been told time and again that he is the Chosen King - King of the Stone, Gentiana called him, and other things - that he'll purge the land of darkness. But how can he do that like this? How can he when he can't even find the courage to put on his father's ring? When he can't even save those nearest and dearest to him? How can he fulfill such a destiny when he couldn't even manage the promise he made to Luna when they were children? 'When the time comes, I'll save you.'
And with Ignis... Friendship or not, he should have been able to, should have --
Noct's shoulders tremble as he continues to fight the losing battle, and one tear makes its way past his crumbling defenses.]
I -- I d-don't deserve -
[that friendship, that love, all this sacrifice
certainly not this kindness from someone who must hurt even more than he. At least Noct is whole of body - if anything, he's more powerful than before (not that he ever wants to call upon Leviathan if he can at all avoid it. Not after... this).]
no subject
He exhales slowly, choosing his words with care.]
It's never up to us to decide what we may or may not deserve.
no subject
Ignis is right, of course (he always is). Deserving doesn't really factor into it, in the end, nor does fairness. In a way, he's never truly deserved most of what he's been given in his life - he was simply born into it, and he can no more help being one hundred and fourteenth in the Lucis Caelum line than Luna could being born into that of Nox Fleuret. Or Gladio into the Amiticia family. Truly, of the people dearest to him, only Prompto has really ever had an opportunity to choose his own destiny from the start. Even Ignis had his calling chosen for him in a way, as a trade for his education and upbringing. -- of course, they all could have chosen to turn aside at some point but...
But they had stood by him, and they believed in him and his destiny. And those who had died for him... they didn't do it simply so that he could live. They did it because of what the believed he could do with what they had given him. Take back the Crystal. Take back Lucis. Push back the Darkness and the Daemons that came from it. No one else could do these things. The question was... could he?
Probably. With half the Astrals having granted him their aid already and the formidable power of the arms of his ancestors, all that was left was to put on the Ring of the Lucii and claim the rest of their power and charge on ahead along the path laid out for him. And yet... perhaps the question really was... was he ready?
And the answer to that...
He manages to unclench one hand from its death grip on the edge of the bench, slipping it instead into his pocket, where his fingers brush against the ring. In that moment, he feels more than hears their whispers - the voices of his ancestors. Noct shivers, but he manages to force himself to take the ring out and look down at it, stark black against the pale skin of his palm. His hand shakes, but dropping it seems impossible. Their voices are louder this way, and he can almost make out the strongest ones - the kings and queens whose phantom weapons he holds.
Noctis hasn't told anyone about the ring, yet. He doesn't know if Gladio or Prompto or Ignis knows he has it. Maybe they do since it was in his hand when he woke or maybe he only received it through the dream, and they have no idea. He opens his mouth to tell Ignis now but words do not come. Instead, he sees for a moment sylleblossoms and Luna falling away from him and overwhelming darkness and the voices are too much, and he clenches his fist around the ring before shoving it back into his pocket. Only then does he find he can speak. ]
While... while I was asleep [ he begins and then has to stop because his voice cracks and he really needs to get ahold of himself and it's suddenly very important that he tells this to Ignis because maybe it'll help him be ready for what he knows he needs to do ] I ... [ but even thinking about the dream and the farewell is too much let alone voicing it, so he stops again ]
Luna... left me my father's ring. [ it isn't his father's ring anymore, but he thinks of it that way still because he isn't ready ]
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[He doesn't sound quite as surprised as he ought. Some part of him, he supposes, knew that Lady Lunafreya still would have managed to do all she could to help Noctis fulfill his destiny, even in her final moments-- or perhaps it's only that part of him still feels so numb to all that's happened, so overwhelmed, that it doesn't quite register the way it should.]
The Ring of the Lucii. Now all that remains is the crystal.
[Some of his usual confidence is lacking. It sounds like such a simple thing, but the trials ahead of them-- none of it is to be taken lightly.]
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inspired by a plurk yesterday
❤
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