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.]
[Noct isn't quite sure what he was hoping Ignis would say, but that isn't it. Then again, it isn't any of the things he was hoping Ignis wouldn't say either. Even so, he shivers just a little hearing Ignis give the ring's name. The Ring of the Lucii. All the Lucian Kings are in there, or so it's said. Or maybe they're in the Crystal and the ring just connects to it. He's ... never been entirely sure, and that's the sort of thing he and his father never really talked about, at least not in depth.
He takes a breath and then lets it out.]
Yeah.
[What else is there to say? It sounds so simple. Except that it isn't.]
[It may not be particularly encouraging-- but now is not the time for grand promises or speeches. Too much has happened, the reality of their situation weighing heavily upon them.
The way forward will be a struggle, but they'll stay together, and they'll make it.]
I'll have Gladio locate the train schedule. We'll need to leave Altissia sooner rather than later. ... we cannot afford to wait, now that you're awake.
[His own injuries will heal on the move, he has to believe.]
[The mention of trains calls to mind the last time he was on a train outside Insomnia's subways: first being brought to Tenebrae and then, later, being sneaked out again after... after everything. Each leg of the journey had been painful in different ways - the way there because the rattling of the train jostled his injuries horribly, and the infection had been an agony of its own; and the way back because every time he had closed his eyes, he saw blood and fire and Luna letting go of his father's hand, disappearing into a crowd of soldiers chasing after him and his father. Both times, though, at least he'd had his father's arms around him, keeping him safe in spite of his helplessness. Now there was nothing, and yet the helplessness remained. He thinks of Luna's hand slipping away from him and how he could do nothing - but he remembers, too, the warmth and soothing of the Oracle's magic then and now.
His voice sounds distant even to him when he speaks again.]
We should sail back to Caem. Regroup with Cor and the others before we head north. There's... still one more Tomb to find.
[And Ravus, wherever he's gone to. He has Regis' sword, and Noctis knows in his bones that that's become one of the glaives, too. Ravus who lost his parents to Niflheim and served them all the same, blaming Lucis. Who now has lost his sister. Noctis half expects Ravus to try and kill him for that when next they meet. Noct thinks he'd let him, if it'd bring Luna back. But it won't, and Ravus' blood will be on his hands, too, by the end of it.
Noct shakes his head, trying to dispel the memories, and a different thought occurs to him. He makes himself look at his oldest friend again.]
If they'll let us out through the harbor, then yes, I agree. Returning to Caem may be easier said than done with things as they are now.
[But he respects Noct's wishes, of course, respects what he wants to do and why. If they could get back to Cor, it might help strengthen their current position, but the Empire was unlikely to make that easy.
He pauses, going very still for a moment.]
What would you like to try?
[He trusts Noct. Whatever it is, he trusts him, but he's curious all the same.]
[Noctis doesn't answer right away in words, but instead he shifts away a little so that he can turn to better face Ignis, pulling one leg up (carefully because he is still sore). He takes a breath and lets it out.]
I ... it ... I can't - I can't say for sure if it'll do anything, because of the time passed and I'm not - not a very good healer, but I wanted to try...
[he doesn't know why he can't quite bring himself to say the words 'healing your eyes', but there is a block he can't seem to get around, so he trails off and instead gently lifts his hands to touch the sides of Ignis' face, just below the scabbed over wounds and to turn Ignis' head to face him, if it isn't already.]
[He doesn't have to say it out loud. Even before Noctis reaches out to brush his fingers just beneath the healing wounds, of course Ignis knows precisely what he means. Neither of them has been able to say the word outright. Even Ignis himself hasn't been able to bring himself to use the word "blind," temporary or otherwise.
It makes it too real. He's simply compromised for the time being, that's all.
Except that isn't all, and he knows that they'll both regret it if he doesn't let Noct try. Altissia's best healers had already done all they could-- but none of them were of the line of Lucis.
[It means more than Noctis has words for to hear Ignis say that - not that ordinarily Noct has any doubt about Ignis' trust, but this is different, and so much has gone wrong...
He makes a noise of acknowledgement before carefully removing Ignis' glasses and gently placing his fingers back on Ignis' temples. He just looks at the gnarled mess that is his friend's left eye in particular for a moment before he swallows down the new fountain of apologies that threatens to burst forth and closes his eyes, reaching deep for his magic.
The blue glow is visible even through Noct's closed eyelids, and he feels the tingle of its work, but try as he might, he can find no way to begin to restore that which is broken - it's all too well sealed now with scarring. Whatever happened to Ignis reached deep and though Noctis strains until his hands tremble and his head spins and throbs, he can't seem to reach any knot he can undo. At best, all he can manage is perhaps easing residual pains or muscle strain and speeding any remaining mending of tissue or fixing any remaining bruises.
Even so, he tries until either Ignis stops him or he simply can't anymore and is left to slump against his friend lest he fall over. His forehead is damp with sweat, and his vision is blurred and swimming with exhaustion, and everything hurts in the way it only does when he has used too much magic, but it isn't enough.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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 ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
He takes a breath and then lets it out.]
Yeah.
[What else is there to say? It sounds so simple. Except that it isn't.]
Gotta figure out how to get to Gralea first.
no subject
[It may not be particularly encouraging-- but now is not the time for grand promises or speeches. Too much has happened, the reality of their situation weighing heavily upon them.
The way forward will be a struggle, but they'll stay together, and they'll make it.]
I'll have Gladio locate the train schedule. We'll need to leave Altissia sooner rather than later. ... we cannot afford to wait, now that you're awake.
[His own injuries will heal on the move, he has to believe.]
inspired by a plurk yesterday
His voice sounds distant even to him when he speaks again.]
We should sail back to Caem. Regroup with Cor and the others before we head north. There's... still one more Tomb to find.
[And Ravus, wherever he's gone to. He has Regis' sword, and Noctis knows in his bones that that's become one of the glaives, too. Ravus who lost his parents to Niflheim and served them all the same, blaming Lucis. Who now has lost his sister. Noctis half expects Ravus to try and kill him for that when next they meet. Noct thinks he'd let him, if it'd bring Luna back. But it won't, and Ravus' blood will be on his hands, too, by the end of it.
Noct shakes his head, trying to dispel the memories, and a different thought occurs to him. He makes himself look at his oldest friend again.]
... Ignis... can I... can I try something?
❤
[But he respects Noct's wishes, of course, respects what he wants to do and why. If they could get back to Cor, it might help strengthen their current position, but the Empire was unlikely to make that easy.
He pauses, going very still for a moment.]
What would you like to try?
[He trusts Noct. Whatever it is, he trusts him, but he's curious all the same.]
no subject
I ... it ... I can't - I can't say for sure if it'll do anything, because of the time passed and I'm not - not a very good healer, but I wanted to try...
[he doesn't know why he can't quite bring himself to say the words 'healing your eyes', but there is a block he can't seem to get around, so he trails off and instead gently lifts his hands to touch the sides of Ignis' face, just below the scabbed over wounds and to turn Ignis' head to face him, if it isn't already.]
no subject
It makes it too real. He's simply compromised for the time being, that's all.
Except that isn't all, and he knows that they'll both regret it if he doesn't let Noct try. Altissia's best healers had already done all they could-- but none of them were of the line of Lucis.
He swallows hard, nodding.]
I trust you.
[As he always has. As he always will.]
no subject
He makes a noise of acknowledgement before carefully removing Ignis' glasses and gently placing his fingers back on Ignis' temples. He just looks at the gnarled mess that is his friend's left eye in particular for a moment before he swallows down the new fountain of apologies that threatens to burst forth and closes his eyes, reaching deep for his magic.
The blue glow is visible even through Noct's closed eyelids, and he feels the tingle of its work, but try as he might, he can find no way to begin to restore that which is broken - it's all too well sealed now with scarring. Whatever happened to Ignis reached deep and though Noctis strains until his hands tremble and his head spins and throbs, he can't seem to reach any knot he can undo. At best, all he can manage is perhaps easing residual pains or muscle strain and speeding any remaining mending of tissue or fixing any remaining bruises.
Even so, he tries until either Ignis stops him or he simply can't anymore and is left to slump against his friend lest he fall over. His forehead is damp with sweat, and his vision is blurred and swimming with exhaustion, and everything hurts in the way it only does when he has used too much magic, but it isn't enough.
It isn't enough.
(It's never going to be enough.) ]