#the reviews apparently said that this hotel is 'losing its glory'

[quitthebustabovemydoor]

So im on holiday and we are in the fancy 5 star hotel in thailand and im not sure why they have 5 stars.

• we are with 5 people. they did not have rooms with 3 beds. so im sleeping on a stretcher.

• laundry has to be paid per piece and the list is weird. do you want to launder handkerchieves? scarves? short sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts, or t-shirts? also laundry is weirdly expensive.

• there are both white and orange coloured lights and there is literally no order. why??

• the airco was broken and hanging from the ceiling. someone came to 'fix' it, after which it was no longer hanging from the ceiling but still made a hell of a lot of noise.

• it took a lot of trying to find the correct lightbuttons to get everything out at night.

• the card for the room you put in to get electricity? its periodically flashing light so i cant sleep. i pulled it out.

• the walls are thin enought that im not sure if that was my doorbell of the one from next door or from all the way down the hallway.

• we wanted to take the frontdoor out instead of the backdoor where we came in. the front door was not available. we took the back.

• we went to get something from the automat in the lobby. which did not work. someone opened it up, grabbed what we wanted and put the money in the automat.

• we decide to use the jacuzzi in the room. the buttons dont really seemed to work. the water seems to be draining. someone jokes "its probably getting wet in the lobby below us". i get out to get some more drinks. the water is leaking throught the raster. the whole floor is wet. the buttons still dont work. so the whirl-thingies dont want to go out, and they keep shouting water everywhere. there is also still water is the tub, so the floor is still gonna get even wetter. we get our stuff out of the way of the water.

• water is everywhere. it is in the hallway. there is now an army of woman dresses in stiff red dresses trying to mop up 30+ liter water. lucky the floor is made of stone, not wood.

• the staff told us this happens about once a year...

• we are now in a new room and trying to gather all our stuff from the drowned room to here and everything is everywhere.

• the new room already has issues.

• the door, who is meant to beep irritatingly when not properly closed, doesnt stop beeping when properly closed

• the stick to pull the drapes closed it not attached to the drapes.

• im still on a stretcher

• but!! the airco does its job properly!! its still noisy.

[the-desolated-quill]

The God Complex - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Oh great! Another Toby Whithouse episode! They’re always good for a giggle!

I’ve always felt Whithouse was the obvious candidate to take over from Moffat as opposed to Chris Chibnall. Granted not everything he writes is amazing, but he always maintains a decent level of quality and he seems to have a good handle as to what makes Doctor Who such a unique show. I absolutely adored School Reunion and while The Vampires Of Venice was a tad flawed, it was still hugely entertaining due to its camp silliness. The God Complex is very much in the same vein as Vampires. Although problems do crop up toward the end, it’s still very enjoyable overall.

The Doctor, Amy and Rory arrive at a hotel, only to discover it’s not a hotel at all. It’s a prison made to look like a hotel with other ‘guests’ trapped inside, their worst fears hidden behind every door and a hungry Minotaur roaming the corridors. Bit like a hotel I stayed at in Rome during a school trip.

Now of course the advertisements describe the rooms as containing their worst fears, but I do hope Whithouse didn’t actually intend this to be scary. Because if he did, he may have fallen short by a few... light-years. See the thing about fears that are personal to you is that only you find them scary. Everyone else just finds them either tame or just plain hilarious, especially if it’s something weird like a gym teacher or a man in a gorilla suit clutching some toilet roll, both of which appear in the episode and both of which are hysterically funny. So I’m assuming that Whithouse was going more for surreal rather than scary. And yeah, it works. It works really well. If Whithouse was going for surreal, this is definitely surreal. The hotel is a great setting and it does lend itself to some very weird imagery, like the dining room full of ventriloquist dummies. A lot of it feels very reminiscent of Stephen King. The most obvious is The Shining with perhaps a little bit of It thrown in for good measure. Not very original granted, but it’s executed very well. And I did like the Minotaur. Okay the design is a bit crap, but the use of fisheye lens and inventive camera angles help to make it somewhat threatening.

Let’s talk about the characters, starting with my favourite. Rita, played by Amara Karan. Having had to put up with obnoxious plot device in a mini-skirt Amy for what feels like two ice ages rather than series, you can imagine I was very excited when the Doctor offered to take Rita with him in the TARDIS when all this was over. A woman that’s not defined by her physical attractiveness or her importance to the Doctor and is actually a fully realised character in her own right? Whithouse, please, remind me what that’s like! It’s been such a long time!

Needless to say, I really liked Rita. She’s funny, really smart, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and is able to keep her cool while everyone else is losing their’s. I particularly liked the exploration of her faith. She believes the hotel is actually Jahannam, the Muslim version of Hell, and I liked how she’s able to take it all in her stride. She’s confused as to why she’s been sent to ‘Jahannam’, believing she has lived a good and moral life, but remains steadfast that everything will be explained and that she will get out of this somehow. Plus it’s just nice to have a Muslim woman on Doctor Who. I certainly would love to see a Muslim woman become the Doctor’s companion. I was utterly heartbroken when she died, although I suppose I should have seen it coming. I thought Amara Karan gave a really good performance and would have  fit in really well with Matt Smith’s Doctor. I feel she would have provided a nice rational counterbalance for him. I especially liked her calm rejection of the Doctor’s all mighty saviour mentality.

I could have done without the stereotyping though. When Rita opens the door to her room, her worst fear is revealed to be her strict dad berating her for getting a B in mathematics.

Really Whithouse? 

In fact this episode contains a lot of stereotyping now that I’m thinking about it. I mean look at Howie. Bespectacled nerd with a stutter who blogs about conspiracy theories, likes Star Trek and is afraid of talking to girls. Joe doesn’t escape this either. He’s a gambler and we know this because he wears a horseshoe pin on his tie and dice cufflinks. It just feels really lazy on Whithouse’s part.

The other character I liked was Gibbis, played by David Walliams. Now this surprised me because David Walliams worked with Matt Lucas in the sketch show Little Britain, which I’ve always thought was about as funny as passing a kidney stone. They also worked together on the short lived mockumentary series Come Fly With Me, which was quite possibly one of the worst comedies I’ve ever sat through in my life. In fact I still vividly remember that Christmas. My family and I staring open-mouthed at the telly watching David Walliams and Matt Lucas in yellowface singing a really offensive, mock Chinese song about Martin Clunes. I actually consider it an insult to my backside that I had to sit through that deeply racist pile of dreck and to this day I still don’t know what possessed the BBC into thinking that was in any way appropriate. To cut a long story short, I don’t like Walliams or Lucas very much. What can I say? I have a thing against talentless hacks thinking casual racism is funny. It’s a quirk of mine. But yeah, I really liked Gibbis. It’s a great idea. A race of aliens that have survived by sucking up to their invaders and oppressors. It lends itself to some really funny moments (their national anthem is ‘Glory To... Insert Name Here.’ LOL), I liked how Gibbis’ cowardice is used to pit the characters against one another, and as much as I’m loath to admit it, I thought David Walliams did a good job in the role. Well I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day (unless it’s digital of course).

As I said, I do mostly like the episode. It’s very surreal and engaging. Silly but entertainingly so. It’s just a shame the whole thing had to go a bit tits up at the end.

So the Doctor works out that the Minotaur isn’t actually feeding on fear, but on faith, and that the reason the TARDIS was drawn there was because of Amy’s faith in the Doctor. Okay, not a bad idea. It’s certainly a good way to explore their relationship and how Amy has never really grown up, as demonstrated when the Doctor talks to her and he sees her as young Amelia. The problem is the whole faith aspect isn’t done very well. For instance, I can see Amy having faith in the Doctor, Rita having faith in Allah and Joe having faith in luck, but Howie’s faith in conspiracy theories? That’s a bit of a stretch. And what about Rory? He’s repeatedly shown the fire exit because apparently he doesn’t have any faith in anything.

BOLLOCKS

Everyone has faith in something.

And then there’s the resolution. If Amy’s faith in the Doctor is so strong, would a two minute monologue really be enough to break it? It feels very similar to a moment in The Curse Of Fenric where the Seventh Doctor had to break his companion Ace’s faith in him, but the reason that worked was because it was genuinely shocking and uncomfortable to watch. He coldly attacked parts of Ace’s self esteem and made her feel like little more than a piece on a chessboard. Here it just feels a bit pathetic and half-arsed in comparison. Also you never get the sense that the Doctor and Amy’s relationship has actually changed once her faith has been ‘broken’. They’re still laughing and smiling like they normally do. With Seven and Ace, while he does apologise and explain why he did it, you get the sense that their once close relationship is slightly more fragile now going forward.

But one thing that puzzles me especially (and this is in no way Whithouse’s fault) is why is Amy’s faith in the Doctor so strong considering everything that’s happened. Would Amy’s faith really be that unshakeable after the Doctor failed to save her daughter? Or when he coldly left her alternative self to die in The Girl Who Waited? 

Which brings me to this. Remember in my previous review when I said I had a problem with how The Girl Who Waited was resolved, but it wouldn’t become apparent until now? Well this is it. Wouldn’t it make so much more sense if Amy and Rory left after that episode rather than this one? The God Complex is really jarring at the beginning because the three leads are getting along, but surely after what happened in the previous episode there would be some tension between them. Can they actually trust the Doctor after everything that’s happened? So I have a really hard time buying that Amy would still have faith in the Doctor. Or at least that her faith would be as strong as they’re claiming it is. I would much rather have seen Amy and Rory take some initiative and choose to leave the TARDIS of their own accord because of what the Doctor did rather than having them get unceremoniously dumped for the weakest and most patronising of reasons. He’s worried they’re going to get killed if they stay with him. Well big whoop! Get over yourself! Yes it’s dangerous travelling with him, but his companions are well aware of that. They want to travel through time and space because it’s cool, not because they’re too stupid to know better. If Amy and Rory want to take the risk, that’s their choice. By stripping them of that choice, the Doctor is basically treating Amy like the child he just encouraged her to grow up from and leave behind a few minutes ago.

The God Complex was never going to be special. I realise that. But it was still a decent enough story that was both imaginative and enjoyable to watch. It’s just such a shame that ending had to spoil it.

[snaurus]

UPDATE: Prescription (2/2)

Pairings: None Ratings: T Categories: Angst/Friendship/Humor Warnings: Blood, Illness, Violence

Maybe getting sick was just the thing Noctis needed.

It’s a Christmas miracle! Today, I received the good news from @glyphenthusiast that the rest of this story was ready for reviewing, so here it is in all its completed glory. If you’re new to the story you can read part 1 here or find the entirety of it on AO3! 

The introduction was supposed to resemble the Omen trailer, since I wanted to include something equally dramatic and action-packed without ripping from the source material verbatim. Readers can probably pick up on the similarities with Noctis losing his weapons recall ability, the overall chaos, etc. Hopefully I did the creative geniuses behind the video some justice.

Have a happy holiday everyone, and enjoy!

The city of Insomnia is burning. Where smoke doesn't obscure the skyline, airships blot it out overhead. Buildings crumble under heavy artillery barrages.

Noctis stands under one of those collapsing structures – the Citadel. An explosion from inside, burning brighter and hotter than the sun, originates from the tallest tower. The blast rockets straight through the entirety of the palace, blowing out windows and supporting structures.

He knows he should move, but both feet stay planted shoulder width apart. His arms dangle at his sides as he cranes his neck back, hair billowing into his eyes. The dark strands aren't enough to block out the incoming stone, glass, and steel falling towards him.

Three sets of hands shove him out of harm's way. Noctis raises his arms to feebly defend himself. All he experiences is a blast of heat. He cracks open an eye to see Lestallum overrun with daemons.

The creatures crawl on top of everything. A Naga's body coils in and out of the doors, windows, and balconies of the Leville Hotel. Goblins are ransacking and vandalizing property. An Iron Giant slams its greatsword into a water fountain, decimating the architecture, before noticing Noctis' presence.

He dodges to the right and rolls under its blade. Noctis motions to summon a sword of his own, but nothing happens. He avoids another swing from the Iron Giant's weapon. In the span where the enemy tries to re-orientate itself, he calls on his arsenal of spears, guns, shields, anything. The sharp stab of light that signifies a weapon materializing simply isn't there.

Noctis sees no alternative; he flees. He rushes into a side street and runs into a Ronin. He slides under the rapid swings of its katana. Without losing his momentum, he keeps running. Another daemon appears, this time through a portal at his feet. It swipes at his pant leg. His ankle and calf bleed immediately. He continues, ignoring the injury.

The marketplace is dead ahead. Daemons swarm the streets here, too. He leaps onto one of the tarps above the closest stall. The monsters howl after him. Some tear down the shops in his wake or spit acid. A wad of it lands on Noctis' shoulder as he races to the end. He stumbles the last of the way, striking the ground with one knee.

He grits his teeth and brushes off his sleeve as best he can. Ultimately, Noctis rips the material away when it doesn't stop tingling. The skin is raw under his glove and fingertips. He limps to the nearest steps, panting up each one. His lungs feel as though they are ablaze. It is hard to breathe as he crests the stairs.

Where he expects to see the meteorite is a gaping, dark hole. The metal platform that was once the sole access to the power plant is mangled beyond repair. It was broken off at the end, as if a Behemoth had chomped down and gnawed on it.

"Noct?"

Growls and hisses from behind him have Noctis whirling around. Daemons close in on all sides. He steps backwards, startling when the heel of his boot floats over open air. Noctis stands at the edge of the bridge and stares into the divide. There is nowhere else to go.

"Noct!"

He faces forward. The monsters are closer. A Hobgoblin swings a giant fist at him, knocking him square in the chest. His body goes flying.

"Will you quit it? It's just me!"

Noctis' plummeting into nothingness stops, like a puppet caught on its strings. His breathing remains erratic, but he isn't inhaling ash, or fumes, or death. What he smells is muskier, with hints of wood smoke and tree sap. Noctis doesn't know how long he's suspended there. Eventually, the natural scents calm his panic. He eases downward, righting himself. His eyes flutter open to see nothing, at first. Situated across his forehead was something damp. Pulling a face, Noctis sat up. What turned out to be a washcloth fell into his lap. For now, he disregarded it.

A small lantern was switched on, but some last vestiges of sunlight filtered into the tent. He couldn't figure how long he'd slept, but Noctis knew it was much later in the day and that Prompto was gone. To be replaced by Gladiolus' guardianship, apparently.

The other man was lying on his side, head propped on his left hand and leafing through a history textbook. Noctis didn't comprehend why, exactly, but seeing Gladiolus whole and present calmed the remainder of his frantic heartbeat. It was dumb, needing to feel safe with him right then, but it wasn't like he'd admitted the fact aloud. He could go on pretending that everything was normal.

Without breaking from his reading, Gladiolus reached behind himself and proffered a bottle. Noctis' arms felt like the consistency of a wet noodle, but he managed to accept the offering. The plastic top was loosened for him, so he chugged what turned out to be a flavored drink. He didn't stop to check its contents until two-thirds of the liquid was gone and he needed to breathe.

Noctis gasped when he finished. He examined the exterior, turning the container in his hands. Kenny Crow stared back at him, promoting the orange-infused sports drink. Greedily, he finished what was left. Some spilled out the corner of his mouth, so Noctis wiped the excess off on his sleeve.

"What time is it?" he croaked.

"Dinner time," Gladiolus said curtly. Reaching behind again, he presented a stainless steel thermos. It was the simple variety where the top popped off to serve as a café mug and the secondary was a twist cap. Like before, the seal was broken for him. Not enough to spill, but Noctis didn't have to exert himself to open it.

Inside was leftover soup. The idea of eating another helping didn't appeal to him, but he was starving. Noctis forewent the faux-mug accessory and drank right from the thermos. The soup was lukewarm and all broth; this made it easy to choke down. Although he'd been ravenous, Noctis only managed to finish a fraction of his meal.

He capped the thermos, fumbling twice in the process. His coordination was next to useless, but a quick glance over to Gladiolus revealed him too absorbed in his book to have witnessed his flub. It could be an act, since very little ever got past the other man, but Noctis didn't want to risk bringing attention to his lack of skill.

Noctis hesitated before handing the container to Gladiolus. He wordlessly took it. The prince cleared his throat, it backfiring when a pinch formed in the back of his throat, but he managed to ask, "I miss anything?"

"Well," Gladiolus started, with the air of an apex predator that'd just found its opening to go for the jugular, "someone gave us one hell of a scare earlier. He was kind of a dick about it."

He scowled, immediately on the defensive. Gladiolus tended to have that effect on him. Afterwards he appreciated the honesty, since transparency was hard to come by in his royal life, but getting steamrolled in the process was never a pleasant experience.

"I know." Noctis side-eyed the other man and caught Gladiolus staring him down, chin resting in his palm. He wasn't yelling or posturing, meaning he might not be mad yet. This was something altogether worse. Gladiolus' disappointment didn't often supersede his temperament, but when it did, he upheld anyone's bullheadedness.

Yeah, well. Noctis was disappointed, too.

"I was doing so much better," Noctis seethed. He took up the washcloth in his lap and wrung it between his fingers. "The fuck am I getting sick for, at a time like this?"

Gladiolus let his book slip shut. He reasoned, "It's not like you've been exposed to these kinds of stressful conditions before. You gotta take it slow. Besides, you might as well take advantage; this is the only chance you'll get where I'm willing to go easy on you."

"Easy?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, easy! Iggy was worried about you, you know. We all are."

"So?" Noctis mumbled, still unable to look him in the eye.

"So get better. We can't afford for our fearless leader to be out of commission for too long."

Gladiolus sat up and took away the washcloth making Noctis' fingertips all wrinkly. He replaced it with a new, cooler one. Contrary to his tone, he then ruffled the prince's hair and smoothed the bangs out of his face. Embarrassed by the care, Noctis showed him his back and squished the compress over his eyes.

"Fine. We done?" he asked.

"If you feel up to being a decent member of society," Gladiolus said. He was already returning to his book, the creak of its spine sounding as he resumed where he left off.

Ass, he thought. At Noctis' best it was like arguing with a brick wall, and he especially wasn't feeling up to competing with Gladiolus in his current state. He reluctantly conceded, instead. "Maybe later."

Gladiolus grunted and said, "Good enough."

It didn't take much for them to come to terms, which was a relief for Noctis' anxiety. His shoulders eased as the tension left him. The washcloth smelled earthy where Gladiolus had held it, reminding Noctis of…he didn't know what, but it lulled him further, regardless. Noctis awakened not with confusion or mild terror, but an off-ness that he can't explain. And it was completely dark. All their lanterns were off, but enough firelight from their campfire shown past the tent that he could see enough.

There was a huddled lump beside him. Prompto had cocooned himself in his sleeping bag, curled into a tiny ball. The sole part of him that remained visible were some blond tufts of hair that stuck out the top.

Noctis, lying on his back, needed only to turn his head to observe Gladiolus on his other side. His form was more distinct in the dark, body stretched out and one arm thrown over his eyes. He snored softly in his sleep.

He didn't spot Ignis, causing Noctis to lift his head a little higher in an attempt to find him. His advisor's bedroll was empty. Ignis' missing presence might explain the odd sensation that'd enveloped him while he slept.

With an effort, Noctis pushed away all but one bed covering. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl as he exited the tent. He almost tripped over Bon Bon on his way out. She raised her head from the crouch she was in and he gave her an idle scritch under the chin to dissuade her from making any unhappy sounds. She clicked her beak softly at the treatment and lowered her head once he was done, but watched him like a hawk.

He surveyed the rest of the outside. Their chairs encircled the fire, which cast warm hues that intermixed with the blues of the haven wards. Some rustling by the portable grill drew his attention, where Ignis busied himself cleaning up for the night. Silky was hovering over his shoulder, probably begging for leftover scraps.

Noctis walked closer, disturbing some loose stones on the ground. Ignis straightened in place. His hardened expression faded to concern as he realized it was Noctis making an approach and not an enemy.

"Noct! What are you doing awake?" he asked. He gently brushed Silky away and intercepted Noctis halfway. The blanket was wrapped tight around Noctis' shoulders, but Ignis fussed with the covering anyway and drew it closer around his front. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm okay," Noctis said. The reassurance sounded like a singular word rather than two. It was an effort to talk, although surprisingly not because of a sore throat. The soup and electrolytes from his drink earlier had started to aid his wrecked immune system, but his sinuses hadn't gotten the memo yet. The congestion in his nose made conversation a challenge.

"…Of course." Ignis' ministrations slowed, the change in demeanor not immediately apparent.

An arm curled around Noctis' hunched back and guided him toward a seat near the campfire instead of insisting he return inside. "Come-come, then. It's late. At least get off your feet."

Noctis didn't argue and dropped heavily into his chair. The heat from the fire felt good on his muscles and he eased deeper into his seat. Ignis didn't join him, fiddling with something over by the grill. At first he assumed the other man went back to cleaning or prepping for tomorrow, but eventually he came over with a steaming mug.

He frowned, at first refusing to accept it. Noctis felt up to his eyeballs in soup and the thought of choking anymore down unsettled his gut. "You didn't have to do this. I'm not hungry."

"It's tea," Ignis said. His hand didn't waver as he continued to hold it out to him. "I added ginger root to quail your stomach and lemon to boost your recovery."

Noctis grunted and unfurled a hand from his blanket to finally take the drink. He held it close to his face, allowing the scent and vapors to radiate on his skin. The initial sip cleared his sinuses with a sudden pop that had him gagging, more so than from the aftertaste.

"I may have brewed it rather strong," Ignis supplied, distinctly unapologetic. Noctis was about to unleash a string of sarcastic gratitude when he felt something rest on his shoulders. He glanced around and saw Ignis' purple spotted jacket resting there, the sight making him clamp his mouth shut.

He stared into the recesses of his tea instead, clutching the mug tighter in his hands. Ignis kindly shooed Silky away from his work area. The chocobo had been pecking at the stew pot in his absence and emptied whatever had been inside. In the tranquility, with his friend not paying attention to him, Noctis said, "You're going to make a cool dad someday."

The advisor's ministrations missed a beat, but the scraping of his brush on the grates resumed before he deigned to reply. "Thank you. Although, as Gladio pointed out, that's a long ways off for all of us."

"I know that. I'm just saying," Noctis mumbled.

His task of cleaning done, Ignis grabbed his own drink – a can of decaf Ebony coffee – and joined him. Ignis folded himself neatly into a chair, one leg crossed at the knee.

"You don't normally discuss these matters. Has it been weighing on your mind?" he asked. Ignis popped the tab on the container of coffee and the bitter smell intermingled with Noctis' tea. The prince didn't much care for either or the combination of smells, but the Ebony was at least familiar to deal with.

"Something like that," Noctis admitted. Fatherhood had been low on his list of priorities, but it was a lesser topic than what was really bothering him. When it came to battle or politics he had no qualms trusting Ignis' wit, but broaching any of his many shortcomings was painful for Noctis. He didn't know how to convey how sorry he was for the way he'd acted, even in private.

Although, now that he needed to face the subject, he wasn't that relieved. It was kind of useless to worry about heirs if he died before reclaiming the throne. "Luna and I exchanged whole books, talking about a lot of things, but…that wasn't ever one of them."

Truth be told, Noctis wasn't sure how she felt about children, either. He could see her surrounded by them. Luna was so full of love and kindness, more than enough to go around. That didn't mean she'd want some of her own, though. Especially if she were sincere about traveling to honor her Oracle duties, on top of being a queen. If anyone were capable of doing it, however, he believed she could.

"Well, perhaps you can start small. Shared custody of a feline, perhaps?" Ignis' smirking around his can of decaf showed how clever he thought his aside, but Noctis' interests were avidly piqued.

"Just one?" he asked.

"Only to decide if the dual responsibility is manageable. Should you two be amenable, you may decide to turn your shared kingdoms into a cat sanctuary."

"I can work with that," Noctis said.

The tea had gone cold in his hands. He set the remainder aside to bury his limb under the layers of protection he had. Ignis finished off his drink and had other ideas, it seemed. He rose from his seat and doused the fire, the embers turning gray and then black.

"If you're feeling tired then let's get you to bed, proper."

"But I'm comfortable," he whined.

Ignis approached and bundled his jacket tighter around Noctis' shoulders, ushering him out of his chair. "Now do as you're told, young man."

They held the charade for all of five seconds until the both of them gave way to laughter. Noctis got to his feet, leaning into Ignis as he guided him to the tent. "There's no way that's going to work on your future kid."

"Then it's best to practice my technique while I can," he reasoned.

Noctis stopped in his tracks. His friend didn't pressure him, but he did stare quizzically.

"Thanks. For the soup yesterday. It helped; even if it was just vegetable water." Ignis snorted, but Noctis' forehead buried into the other man's chest. "And sorry. Ya know, for being a jackass."

"Gladio butted in again and let into you, I see," he said wryly.

"He was right, though." He recoiled at the admission. "Gladio can never know I said that. I forbid you from referring to it."

"As you've decreed. Think nothing of it," Ignis demurred. His reassurance didn't have the desired outcome. It wasn't as obvious when Ignis initially evaded mentioning it, but Noctis picked up on his careful choice of words. The prince only had himself to blame, due to his earlier vehemence about his health.

"You're allowed to be annoyed at me," Noctis grouched. He remembered a time when Ignis nagged him daily to do his homework, to keep with politics, to regulate his time wisely, what to eat. Whenever they came to a head it was almost a relief. Noctis wasn't looking for a fight, but he'd relax better knowing what the other man was really thinking.

"Your guilt is evidence enough of your regret," Ignis said, "but if it means that much to you, all is forgiven."

The pardon came so readily, so easily. Noctis lifted his head and turned in Ignis' grip. His hold loosened, but Ignis left his hands in place so they slid along Noctis' body. His expression wasn't open, but it was serene.

"After all, I am well acquainted with your poor mannerisms during these weathered times."

"Theeere it is," Noctis deadpanned, although he slumped in relief. If Ignis was making quips at his expense, then matters really were settled.

"Anymore of my council that you require before we retire?" Ignis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. Bedtime," he announced.

Noctis swept past Bon Bon and entered the tent. He collapsed in the middle of their two friends, elbowing his way and wriggling around to reclaim his spot. Normally he was opposed to sharing his space and threatened to kick anyone who got too close. However, his temperature was fluctuating again, and Prompto and Gladiolus were space heaters reincarnate.

At his insistence, Gladiolus grunted in his sleep and rolled over to show his back. Noctis greedily turned so his back pressed against the wider expanse of his, soaking up the guardsman's body heat. In turn, Noctis pressed his face into the comfort of Prompto's side.

Ignis was more meticulous (and considerate) in comparison. He was careful not to disturb anyone as he took vigilance on the far side of Prompto. Noctis listened to him settling in, adjusting his pillows, before laying down. The soft opening and closing of his eyeglasses case predated the sigh he released as he went to sleep. It was almost too quiet for Noctis to hear, but he did and it was enough to urge him to sleep, too. A sharp prod in the middle of his back roused Noctis from his slumber. He'd assumed that he was alone this late in the morning, but maybe Gladiolus was keeping watch again. And being the big jerk he is.

"Knock it off," he grumbled. Another jab elicited a blind swat over his shoulder. "Quit it!"

"Kweh!"

He yelped at the foghorn in his ear. Noctis got caught in the sheets and sleeping bags as he mad-scrambled to face the loud intruder. His chocobo had shoved her head inside, almost to the full extent her neck allowed.

"Bon Bon, what—" Noctis forewent talking and feebly gave her a firm shove in the direction of the entrance. She answered him with a short string of chirps and clacks of her beak. Laughter outside, most likely at his expense, caused Noctis' cheeks to flush brighter than his fever already had. He pushed harder at her, but she didn't budge. "I'm up, I'm up! Now get out."

His bird was as responsive to moving as a Regalia without gas in its tank: heavy and wily, at best. Eventually there was enough room for him to crawl between her legs and escape. It wasn't his most graceful awakening, but at least he wasn't crowded inside the tent anymore. A click of someone taking a picture with their phone had Noctis' head snapping up. Gladiolus' fingers were already flying across the digital keyboard.

"Delete that!" he ordered and rushed over. Noctis went to snatch the cell phone away from him. Gladiolus, infuriatingly, just had to raise his arms out of reach while still messaging whoever it was he was contacting.

"Too late. Iris says you're adorable. Like one of Bon Bon's little chicks."

Noctis practically scaled Gladiolus' body to grab the device from him, but it was true. The chat screen was full of hearts and kissy-face emojis under a picture of Noctis' gangly escape. He was tucked into the chocobo's downy feathers, all but his face and an arm visible underneath her.

While he fumed, Gladiolus asked, "You're pretty spirited today. Feeling better?"

"I was."

"Let him be," Ignis reprimanded from the background. His was the only other chocobo present, it watching curiously as Ignis sewed buttons and mended holes in their clothes. Noctis wished his fowl acted that docile.

"Yeah, let me be," Noctis said. He tossed Gladiolus' smart phone, aiming for his face, but the other man caught it without breaking eye contact. His smirk had Noctis scowling. "Where's Prompto?"

"Hunting," Gladiolus said. His grin hadn't abated; it may have even doubled in size at the declaration.

The prince stared at him expectantly, but when Gladiolus wasn't forthcoming with more information he turned to regard Ignis for guidance. Still without deterring from his task, the advisor clarified, "Prompto volunteered to go fishing for our breakfast."

"Fishing," Noctis mimicked, albeit disbelieving.

"Yep," Gladiolus said.

"We're going to starve," he determined.

"I can hear you guys!" Prompto called from somewhere behind and below them. He was riding on Silky, with Drumstick tethered to her saddle. The red chocobo was loaded down with two sacks, presumably full of fish.

"Oh, my. This is a pleasant surprise," Ignis said. He folded the shirt in his hands and set it on top of a pile of other completed garments in a basket.

Gladiolus was already hauling one of the bags off his chocobo, Noctis attempting to see around his shoulder. This was unbelievable; whenever he wanted to go fishing, he practically had to beg Prompto to accompany him. Even then, his friend stood around complaining, if he wasn't idling on his phone or fiddling with the settings on his camera. And here his friend was, with a week's worth of trout!

Ignis came over and peeked inside the other bag. He lifted one of the fish by the gills, turning it every which way to inspect the haul. "That's peculiar. These appear to already be partially cooked?"

The reason why came to Noctis. He weakly shoved Prompto in the arm. His friend flinched, although it was out of shame as opposed to pain. "Cheater!"

"Lightning magic isn't cheating!" Prompto sniffed haughtily. "There are no rules to fishing, so fair is fair! You should be thanking me, you know."

"I suppose my work is minimized," Ignis said dryly. He chose a few other specimens for breakfast. "Jerky may be best for the remaining stock. Gladio, if you would?"

"On it," the other man said. Gladiolus grabbed both sacks to begin the process of converting the rest for long-term storage.

Prompto shifted from foot-to-foot as Ignis began to fillet their food. "Um."

"Yes?" Ignis asked.

"The first few I tried to catch… I mean…" He floundered for awhile, before settling on, "You might want to be extra careful? Or we shouldn't chew too hard. Whichever."

Ignis' hand stilled for a second, before resuming with the same skilled and harried pace as before. "Ah. Not precisely how I foresaw us adding iron to our diet. I'll be sure to be thorough while deboning the meat."

"Yeah," Prompto agreed, ducking his head.

During the activity, Noctis meandered over to a chair and sat down. He kicked out his legs and clasped both hands on his chest. After Bon Bon was assured that he wasn't going to choke on his own flem during his sleep she'd dismissed him to go scouring in the grass for bugs, leaving him the first chance to be left alone to his own devices.

"Oi!" Gladiolus voice called over, interrupting his thoughts. "You going to help out here or what?"

"Can't. Too sick." Noctis fake hacked into a fist, which morphed into a real coughing fit.

"Oh. Now you're sick. When five minutes ago you were on the mend, and the days before that you weren't sick at all."

Noctis ignored the guardsman's grumblings. If he'd really wanted the help, Gladiolus would have thrown the prince over his shoulder and made him assist in turning fish into jerky. So he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, at peace.