#manusregis

[aequitaes]

.

[inscmnus]

“let’s not be dramatic,” he tuts, tone light and on the verge of a sigh. “i can assure you— you’ll live.” leaning back against the balustrade, green eyes twinkle with an unmistakable glint of mischief as they slant in noctis’ direction. he twirls the flute in his hand idly. “or, at the very least, we might be able to slip out in not much longer.”   /   what if i said brotherhood era champagne shenanigans? 👀  @manusregis​​

𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒  ,  eyes closed for a moment.  Dramatic was perhaps not the word Noctis would use  --  though he'd made no secret of his disdain for such events.  The corners of his lips twitched upwards slightly  ,  knowing that was more of a tease coming from Ignis than the mirth it would have usually held from someone else.    ❝ I'm not sure about that.  If I have to listen to someone else telling me the colour choice for the walls was excellent I might die of boredom. ❞    That was an exaggeration.  In truth  ,  these sort of things tired him out more than anything.  He wasn't a social butterfly  ,  and though he tried to engage occasionally  ,  it felt forced and awkward.  

He leans against the barrier  ,  gaze tilted upwards and a thoughtful expression on his face.  The sounds coming from the room were filtered only by his want to ignore them for a few moments.  His back ached a little  ,  though it wasn't anything he couldn't endure.  Despite the knowledge that this was part of his duty  ,  and one he would fulfil to the best of his ability  --  sometimes crowds became a little too overwhelming for him.  Yet his resilience in keeping up with them was owed largely to the one standing beside him.  One day you'll be the King  ,  and these events will be yours to hold.  The guests his to entertain  ,  the talks his to guide.  The thought of that alone was daunting  ,  and though he didn't doubt that he'd one day be able to do it.  He did sometimes question if that was because he had the strength to do it like his father  --  or because of the people  ,  mainly Ignis  ,  who he knew would be by his side.

Becoming King was perhaps one of the most terrifying things Noctis was faced with.  By that point it would have meant so much would have changed and a key figure in his life might not even be there anymore.  It wasn't simply about becoming the King  ,  but what he'd potentially lose by taking up that crown.  How often had someone commented  ,  saying he'd make a fine King one day.  Equally as many as those who wondered if he was strong enough to bear that burden.  Yet those were thoughts for another night and not something he'd ever easily voice  ,  not tonight.  He'd opted to at least try to enjoy it.

Pushing away from where he was leaning  ,  a few steps forward.   He brushes down the front of his jacket  ,  tugging at the bottom of it like he was trying to find the motivation to re-join everyone else.  ❝ Alright... you with me? ❞  Though posed as a question  ,  it was one that didn’t need an answer.

[battleshot]

             ↳       “   it might come as a surprise, but i genuinely didn’t think this could get any worse. evidently, i was incorrect.   ”   /  :) 💜    @manusregis​​

                                      Could  he  feign  surprise  at  the  tone  of  disappointment  in  the  Prince's  advisor?  Yes,  he  could.  Instead,  he  opts  for  optimism.  The  latest  event  in  Lestallum  ended  with  an  exciting  presentation  of  the  acquired  merchandise  he  and  Noctis  purchased  for  the  group.     "    Aw,  c'mon  iggy  --  brings  out  the  colour  of  your  eyes!    "    A  light  chuckle  filled  his  lungs  as  he  looked  at  his  friends  with  their  branded  t-shirts.  Leather-gloved  hands  make  quick  work,  adjusting  his  camera  to  the  equivalent  'selfie'  settings  before  exclaiming,      "    Say,  road  trip!    "    Grinning,  he  lifted  the  device  and  a  digit  pressed  on  the  shutter  button  --    a  few  quick  snaps  before  anyone  had  a  chance  to  protest.   

                                                                 ↳       𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝑃𝑇

[valiisthea]

“breathe, prompto. everything's going to be alright.” / bet you can't guess who it's for dfjkgl

Injury Care Starters || Accepting

@manusregis

"B-but, but I -"

Panic. It hits Prompto like a ton of bricks, spreading ice through his veins in a rush that makes his head spin. Panic panic panic panic -- he's in pain --

"Iggy?" It comes out so incredibly small, so desperate and fearful and needy, and it takes whatever is left functioning in his brain to keep from lunging forward and grabbing hold of his friend. Instead, he reaches one hand out and tentatively grabs hold of Ignis' upper arm. He can only hope that Ignis can't feel him shaking.

Then, after what feels like hours, he takes a shuddering breath.

His senses sharpen one at a time. It's dark, that's the first thing he notices. It's dark, it's cold, his side is on fire - and he can hear gentle snoring from somewhere near them.

Camp? Gladio? Noctis?

Ignis.

How utterly embarrassing. If only he'd taken that potion before shuffling off to bed last night...

"It's- ah...it hurts. Must've - must've rolled onto my side in my sleep. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

[aicidos]

💍  :    our  muses  are  mistaken  for  a  couple  by  someone  else . / okay but i saw this and got a nosebleed i had to send it consider this an official drabble request JDLFKG

tension symbols.  ♡  * accepting !  @manusregis.​

   his headache’s timing was too vague to attribute it to a single thing: the throb that followed the short visions, the lingering effects of it which kept him from sleeping deeply the entirety of the night, or, perhaps, waking before lestallum’s light seeped past their curtains in a great act of resilience. rather, annoyance, in his mind. it was already starting to warm up, unbearably so. and then— then there was hunger. 

   venturing outside, short-sighted with a single goal in mind, noctis suffered a rush of satisfaction when his guess laid out true in front of him: ignis was, indeed, lingering around the market. early bird gets the incredibly unappealing worm that was picking the best produce of the day, but he was undoubtedly looking forward to the meals these purchases would provide. since his first and last visit with iris, the clerks had, for the most part, given up on beckoning him; maybe they could tell his eyes were particularly unenthusiastic today, their gloss opaque, not unlike that of a caught fish. they’re lucid enough, however, to watch the shapes ignis’ lips formed when he asked something of the clerk, a gloved hand resting underneath his chin in thought, and, if he followed the line downwards, the neat fold of his shirt over his elbow. the flex of his forearm. the sun’s intensity flared then, and he felt it shake him awake.

   ‘your lady must have pretty refined taste buds’, noctis heard the stand’s owner say as he neared, bagging the spices ignis had picked. he knew, logically, the presumption spoke more of the man than anything else; merchant husbands with their wives working at the power plant, accustomed by now to the tranquil haze of the market and scraping for distraction in every customer. it was easy small talk, something so forgettable.

   still. still.

   “not really.” noctis spoke up, uninvited. 

   not setting the record straight would’ve bothered him all the way back to the leville, the knowledge that an imaginary other could forever exist in the man’s mind, laying claim to ignis’ efforts. he placed a tired cheek upon ignis’ shoulder, gaze roaming around the options, then returning to the merchant. “i just eat whatever he cooks for me.” which was a lie, but only depending on how you looked at it. he couldn’t be tasked with differentiating what certain herbs taste by image alone. regardless, he expected to be called out on it much later that evening.

   in the man’s pause, noctis thought he saw something slowly registering. and then— ‘...oh, of course! of course, my mistake. i see now.’ by the time noctis understood the weight of what was insinuated, two thoughts occurred to him: he had the strange advantage of not only being generally unrecognizable to the world, but dead, too. with the wedding a futile endeavor, ruse that it always was, only one kind of ring awaited him. he didn’t expect to feel restlessly euphoric from the freedom in that reality, false as it was, or that this would be the way he would experience his long-impossible desire. a simple mistake, the precise timing and wording and lack of foresight. straightening, noctis merely nodded at the apology, as if it was rightful to accept. yawning, he didn’t take a glimpse of ignis’ expression when he added, purposefully, “i’m heading back to our room, specs.”

[inscmnus]

💃   ─  dance around the living room to christmas songs  /  in all their years surely  @manusregis​

｡:*• ─ IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME !      ›   //   prompt.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄  ,  the final piece placed on the tree they'd spent nearly all day decorating.   You could tell by looking at it  ,  which bits Ignis had placed compared to the decorations Noctis had.  There was no rhyme or reason  ,  no coordination.  It looked odd at best  ,  and yet the young boy couldn't be any more proud of their achievement.  He stepped back to admire it  ,  unable to get the star at the top of the tree just yet  --  but that would come later.

Their mugs of hot cocoa not quite forgotten but the marshmallows and cream that had been sat on top looked a little flat.  Still  ,  he picked it up and took a large gulp of it  --  almost choking on one of the little marshmallow lumps but he just laughed it off.  ❝ I'm okay ! ❞  He chimes  ,  knowing how Ignis would likely worry if he thought anything was amiss.  They'd been in each other's company now every day for three years.  Both of them leaned more about the other every day  --  Ignis had become his only  ,  and closest friend.

The music that filled the air was nothing but upbeat Christmas music that Noctis had insisted on while they decorated the tree and the space within the room.  Yet the song that would come on next was one of his favourites.  A large grin as he took hold of Ignis' hand  ,  tugging him into a more open space. The dance was childish at best  ,  more jumping around and waving Ignis' arms while Noctis held onto his hands.  Laughter fell from his lips as he felt happy.  ❝ Come on Iggy! Dance! ❞  The tone was full of playfulness  ,  one that undoubtedly wouldn't last forever but for the moment...

All that mattered to Noctis was enjoying the time with Ignis.

[aicidos]

𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤  :  𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌.    

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.   being unable to stop smiling. laughter. bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual. gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.

𝙨𝙖𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.   tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away. deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking. a distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧.   furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability. jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.

𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧.   wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause (as a teen). pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks. exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining of colour. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.   constantly yawning. slurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking. trouble concentrating. stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “i’m awake, i’m fine.” (mostly directly post-altissia tbh). shaking so bad they spill their drink. fall asleep in their clothes. lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

tagged by: @manusregis / @vergili​ GRABS YOUR HEAD N FORCES YOU TO READ THE HUSBAND’S RESULTS<3 tagging: @yeshens can you PLEASE do this for min...... @militus​ hi again mika can you humor me n take this for cloud,, @fire2fuse​ ANSWER THIS FOR PROMPTO RIGHT NEOW❗❗❗

[battleshot]

I cannot believe I’ve been missing out on core lines said in the French localisation of FFXV, that in some cases were cut out from the English, not even just translated differently!! but my eyes have been opened and god … if you think I’m about to sit here and go through episode Prompto line by line to compare and scream about my son’s feelings ?? You’re god dAMN rigHT.

[aicidos]

6) things you said under the stars and in the grass / aka sqex can take the stargazing date in episode duscae from my cold dead hands 💜

things you said .  .  . ♡  @manusregis​​.

   there was a day’s worth of strain in the depth of his sigh, and yet, noctis felt himself wide awake. he felt aware of the breeze cooling his sun-soaked skin, the first nocturnal animals making themselves known in the distance, the dark sleeve he could brush against if he just inched closer. but he lacked something, something he recognized as momentum.

   momentum. that’s what it was all about when it came to ignis.

   noctis saw it best in the way he fought, that swift force channeled into a steady, definitive hit, always landing its mark, landing true. if ignis needed it to be, his way with words struck similarly: every comment on his childhood antics was a string of successful jabs, and with a huff here and there, noctis had to wonder why he wasted that cunning virtue on matters like that⸺ except that was a lie. he liked the banter if it meant seeing him smile while reminiscing, of seeing him smile when he smiled. 

   so, noctis let himself be swayed by that tide, and gave as good as he got. it seemed to be all he could offer back, really. he had forgotten the name of most remarkable stars or constellations, and even if he hadn’t, there was nothing he could tell ignis that he didn’t know already. things about the world, about them, about himself. it dawned on him then that the last secret noctis could have called his own had already been exposed, and since then, became so blatant to his own eyes.

   he couldn’t even hide his love anymore.

   he thought of the way his restraint failed him once, wedding-suit clad and feverish. 

   he thought of ignis’ constellation book, of the way he marked the things he loved a little too much. 

   the meteorshower trickled the sky like droplets down a window, and for all its beauty, removing his eyes from it was easy.  “  how come i tell you what i’d wish for but you won’t tell me ?  ”  noctis had asked, pretending it was more jest than plea, pretending ‘more wishes’ had been his real answer. he could wish for a thousand things, in truth⸺ or he could act on those available. ignis was here, wasn’t he ?  

   he remembered the words very well, as if ignis had just uttered them: we won’t be spotted out here. they lured him like a fish to a hook, and only when he gathered enough courage to lean closer—to lean in—did it occur to him that ignis might have wanted them to.

   had his lips hadn’t pressed against ignis’, the sensation as spirit-spinning as it had been the first time, he would have told him he was wrong: their problems weren’t far enough behind them, they sat right ahead, just beyond the sea. it would have explained, then, why his second bout of recklessness had overtaken him in a desperate attempt to stop time, to keep the sky the way it was. more than futile, it had been foolish: noctis should have known not to ask for so much nightsky.

[aicidos]

   he doesn’t like to think about it, but the fact remains: noctis has died many times. that is, if he counts the times he has been bested as a real loss. he will admit, however, he has come far. far enough to stand his ground⸺  only for it to be swept under him again. restraining him, he realizes ignis presses, with clinical precision, the pulse point on his wrist that makes the weapon in his hand disappear. smart of him, he thinks, the soft melody of disintegration buzzing uncomfortably in his ears. maybe he’s just dizzy from the fall. maybe he’s dazed (  nervous ? )  by the proximity.  groaning, he speaks up in a voice close to a murmur:  “  remind me why gladio has been the one training me and not you, again ?  ”

   noctis makes no move to push him off—can’t muster the energy to—and simply closes his eyes instead, catching his breath. slowly, he cracks one eye open, a lighthearted hum,  “   .  .  . this isn’t some type of payback, is it ?  ”  then again, he had, for nearly the thousandth time, turned down ignis’ latest attempt to recreate a certain tenebraen dessert ( which, for the most part, is noctis’ fault; rather, the shaky grasp his memory has of it ).  @manusregis​  +  pin.

[aicidos]

   his chamber’s mirror made of his reflection an inescapable navy blue blotch. though the curtains were drawn closed, he couldn’t escape the familiar threat of watchful eyes⸺ his own. a bare hand lifted, touched the smooth, golden fabric weaved under the shoulder’s strap and across his chest, and tugged it undone with the closest thing to a tailor’s nimbleness he could muster, setting it on the desk, just beside the empty wine cup. even without it, something restricted the access to his chest, still. the criss-crossed stripes under his collar only seemed ironic to him, the way they fell so poignantly on the base of his neck, the symbolic restriction of his throat. even so, he couldn’t muster a curse or complaint, not when he found himself fixated on replaying the rite’s instructions in his head.

   when the knock he had been expecting struck gently, the reverberations stole a flinch out of him regardless.  “  come in,  ”  his voice was unexpectedly leveled, to his surprise. only after taking in a subtle breath did noctis turn around, and the sudden weight of being observed prodded at his confidence, and it did so in a way uniquely related to ignis. the gripping need to meet ignis’ expectations was territory he had threaded most of his early youth, and yet, it never got easier. despite the instinct to do otherwise, noctis stood a little taller, though his briefly-twitching fingers betrayed some of his composure. for a moment, it was entirely quiet. he saw, or tried seeing, deep into the center of ignis’ eye, and found something he thought he could recognize, but couldn’t describe.  “  it .  .  .  fits me alright.  ”  it’s clumsily said, but not stuttered, which was always a plus in his mind.

   “  oh, i⸺ uh, i brought all the props.  ”  he hardly had the mind to realize his poor wording as he ran a finger atop the fallen candles atop the desk, following an invisible path to his breast pocket and revealing the ring within. noctis thought of his father, his lack of reluctance in passing on that heirloom ring, and thought he ought to inspire the same impression.  “  never thought i’d be holding my mother’s ring, but here we are.  ”  except, he pinched the silver band a bit too tightly as he held it for ignis to briefly appreciate, before setting it down. 

   he was stalling. he knew he was stalling. a sharp inhale,  “  so, you ready⸺ ?  ”  amidst the question, he glanced to the desk again, palm hovering atop the gloves, their pristine whiteness unnerving him, as though they’d stain from him merely putting them on.  “  wait, i .  .  . should wear these before we start, shouldn’t i ?  ”  .  .  . he couldn’t stop stalling.  @manusregis​.

[aicidos]

   it’s easy to pretend he’s listening to the chattering that fills the ballroom, and he’s smart enough to recognize it would benefit him to. even so, he lacks the will to be anything more than politely absentminded: speaking when spoken to, smiling when smiled at. he mirrors each and every royal, and he can’t find himself in any of the fragments, feels so far removed from it. it’s why he tries to retreat, to find the chance to reach the balcony once no one’s looking⸺  except ignis is. noctis’ breath hitches then, taking in the complex green of his eyes when he stares back, openly.

  he wants to mouth something to him, an invitation of sorts⸺ but it makes him feel all the more inadequate. selfish, even. it’s as much of a networking event for ignis as it his for him. he has no good reason to steal him away, other than .  .  . seeking a refuge of sorts, from the person he trusts most. noctis’ eyes beckon him regardless, a silent plea, and he steals a last look from ignis over his shoulder before pushing the blacony’s doors open, wind cooler than he expected.  @manusregis​​  +  gaze.

[battleshot]

"I knew you dancing in your Levis, drunk under a streetlight” ( Is it send Andrea unsolicited Taylor Swift Lyrics o’clock? I think so. )  @cultivatxr​

          ❝    Shhhhh  --  !!  Don't  be  so    loud  ...  Ignis...    still    doesn't    know    about  that  --      ❞    And  he  deeply  wished  it  to  remain  that  way.  Prompto  would  rather  see  the  next  day  than  being  chastised  by  the  advisor    once    again    for  his  reckless  behaviour  and  habit  of  leading  Noctis  astray.    

𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙒𝙄𝙁𝙏 𝙇𝙔𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙎 ( 𝘼𝙇𝙒𝘼𝙔𝙎 𝘼𝘾𝘾𝙀𝙋𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 )

[aicidos]

❛ what’s done is done. i’ll never be exactly as i was. ❜ / soft angst for noctis 💜

   all of which has kept him alive shares a pattern; they were once bodies, and they had to perish. even at the end of it, it was not without comfort: a squeeze to the shoulder or a pressed flower, lingering like a haunting. the aftermath’s hopelessness had spilled out of him down to the bed’s covers, pooling with the renewed sunlight. outside, the days regain vitality, beautiful and overbearing, even among the debris. it feels ungrateful to admit it breaks his heart further, to turn away from the displays of survival. regardless if he tried telling himself otherwise, the feeling would flare as truthful.

   out in his chamber’s balcony, when ignis’ cane gently taps a potted flower in his sightless navigation and announces his presence, noctis can’t decide whether to label the tightness in his chest as relief or remorse. despite hesitation weighing him down, he moves closer, a hand ghosting behind the small of ignis’ back, leading him to the railing. he settles, and silently, noctis watches all the signs of life: the gentle rising and falling of his chest, the wind sweeping his hair, the sun catching onto his skin. somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.  “  ignis, i .  .  .  ”  noctis’ mouth opens and closes uselessly, until the words become bigger than he can contain.

   “  i wish i could’ve been there for you. i .  .  . i wish⸺  ”

   soon enough, it’s all nonsense. soon enough, his throat is closing again at the threat of tears. he tries to recollect himself with a shaky breath, pressing his forehead on ignis’ shoulder, fists to his sides. the tightness leaves crescents upon his palm, almost drawing blood, but his body is much too numb to register. 

   he remembers when he first awoke a few days ago. dazed and sore and startled. he had heard ignis better than he could see him, back turned and hidden behind a velvet chair. and then⸺  and then he realized ignis couldn’t see him at all; there’s no sacrifice noctis can call small enough, and there’s no person he fears it from most than ignis. and yet, it was done. ignis himself reassures as much, aloud: what’s done is done. i’ll never be exactly as i was. he looks up with the quickness of a stab, another breath taken like an aborted gasp, as though a dagger, ignis’, pierced him. under his shades, noctis sees the slow-healing burns, the scar on his nose, lip, brow. noctis stands closest than he has after what has felt like an eternity now, and finds he can’t bridge the sense of distance that overwhelms him⸺  finds it hard to not feel less than worthless.

   even so, his head lowers again, and this time, it doesn’t quite touch ignis. only the tears do, an arrhythmic succession dampening his shirt. 

   “  why won’t you resent me ?  ”

short angst sentences.  ♡  * closed !  @manusregis.

[battleshot]

I am once again asking you to help support me in my decision to riot @ SE for doing prom dirty with the goatee. We will get my son the justice he deserves. 😔✊

[aicidos]

the crackle of the fire echoes distantly ; a melancholy soundcheck to the warmth of the hands encasing his own, ever a reminder of the time lost to them ––– slipped between his fingers like the fine grains of white sand on the coast of the quay. there is a chasm between he and all he's ever wished to speak ––– truths caught between tongue and teeth, like the mere prospect of thinking them into existence is something meant to demand atonement. and yet––– and yet. grip of his gloved hand tightening around noctis' own, ignis swallows, but is unable to repress the sentiment as another tear slips over the scarred slope of his cheek. "noct..." / hi hello i'm in love with the boys after the 10 year gap and i heard that maybe you might be interested in exploring that too, so i said hey how about that last campfire huh? 👀 (for the psychic damage — bonus points for the "thanks for everything, iggy" scene 💜)

   it turns out the vast dark that spread across them isn’t so different from the crystal’s emptiness; all-encompassing and temporary. he stands as the strange figure in it, having to imagine everything to come, in detail and without an end. noctis sees into the heart of the matter, and finds there is no heart. that the odds have been pit against him from the start, and even that doesn’t matter; yet, his life had felt worthwhile. despite it all, the love had been overwhelming. its reminder moves him to tears: a love so unconditional that it felt, at times, undeserving. noctis experienced it first-hand, and saw the ramifications of it even after death.

   the flesh is weak, and love outlives it. he wants to harness that even more than the crystalized power embracing—threatening—his finger.

   even with that resolve so clear in his mind’s eye, he cradles ignis’ hands and asks himself how a human, resigned martyr or not, could ever be past desire. he strove to, once, until he saw him again. and then .  .  . noctis tried another tack: if death is anything like sleep, he could find himself in a place untouched by time or starscourge, devoted to dreaming of their memories, the same way he did while drifting in a decade-long slumber. he’s⸺ he’s tired, still. tired of being a cause of concern or tears, much like the one that betrays ignis before his words can. he moves a thumb to remove it, and all it seems good for is smearing a raw wetness. the feeling of his skin, the tender and scarred parts of it, sears into his memory.

   “  hey,  ”  a choked sigh, and he shakes his head,  “  this .  .  . isn’t how i want to remember you.  ”

   after his name hangs in the air, noctis takes a step. he removes both hands in order to pull ignis forward, one palm flat on the nape of his neck and the other on his shoulder blade; he wants to be close enough for him to sense his heartbeat. onto his ear, the murmur:  “  i know.  ”  ignis doesn’t have to say it, nor carry the truth like a burden. not when noctis had safekept his own, equal in scale and intent, for fear of losing even more. but now, it felt like laying something to rest. bare and pulsing like a wound or an animal, alive for as long as he had been conscious. this feeling .  .  . maybe it would outlive him. he hopes it does⸺  he’s counting on it to. 

   sucking air through his teeth, faintly, his lips are weak with a smile.  “  guess we both know it too well.  ”